#my first pattern creation attempt

[vashti-lives]

The first step of the rough draft is done!

#adventures in knitting #hmmm it’s acrylic do I try to block it and then seam the pieces together #or do I seam everything and then see #in my final wool I’ll definitely steam block here #not sure its worth it for now #fairy cape #my first pattern creation attempt #though I’m copying an existing pattern that’s been pulled down #so it’s not that impressive

[jade-gemstone]

Danganronpa Ultimate Categorization

Welcome back to another episode of: Jade is a nerd about something absolutely useless! Today's topic: Talent classification in Danganronpa/Fangans.

In the process of making my own fangan/s, I've created a classification system for the types of talents you can give characters. These classifications are...

Arts: Talents that are involved in the visual arts, performing arts, or fashion. Encompasses performers of all types, any type of visual artist, or anyone involved in fashion. (Ex. Actor, Abstract Artist, Model)

Practical: Talents that focus on a specialized skill or work with your hands. Also includes any talents that are religious or spiritual in nature. (Ex. Mechanical Engineer, Detective, Shrine Maiden)

Academic: Talents that are recognized by how much knowledge or experience a character has in an academic field. Covers most science, literature, math, and research based talents. (Ex. Chemist, Theologian, Archaeologist)

Sports: Talents relating to athletic skill. (Ex. Footballer, Kickboxer, Bowler)

Novelty: Talents given to a person who is special simply by existing. Can also be given to characters who win a contest for their talent. Includes Lucky/Unlucky Students, royalty, and non-human characters. (Ex. Lucky Student, Student, Princess)

This system of classification was based on my experience in the community over about three or four years, seeing many other people's original characters as well as creating my own. I found many fell into these categories. My "perfect" ratio, which my friends and I used as a guideline for making our fangan casts, is 4 arts : 4 practical : 4 academic : 2 sports: 2 novelty. I felt this ratio kept things even and grounded.

A few months ago, I began to wonder if my "perfect" ratio was more of my own creation than an actual pattern I saw. I thought, in the event it was, that I would come up with a mathematically accurate ratio that better represented the talent distribution of Danganronpa and its fan projects. This was my attempt at doing just that.

Data Collection

For this, I tried to collect as varied of a sample as possible. I included the three mainline Danganronpa games and sixteen fangans, ranging from very popular ones to very obscure ones. The fangans sampled for this analysis were...

Danganronpa Another

Super Danganronpa Another 2

Danganronpa Despair Time

Brave Danganronpa Coward's Paradise

Project Eden's Garden

Danganronpa He(art)less Deceit

Danganronpa Hushed Whispers

Danganronpa Muave

Danganronpa Despair's Revival

Danganronpa Re:Birth

Danganronpa Twisted Truths

Danganronpa Survivor's Guilt

Danganronpa Despair's Flame (my fangan! also the one where the talent ratio originated)

Danganronpa Cyberspace

Danganronpa Akeda Amusements

Danganronpa Lost Paradise (my other fangan that isn't released anywhere but I'm counting anyway)

I figured out the talent ratio for each individual game by looking through their casts and sorting them with my classification system. Ultimate ???'s were thrown out if possible (such as in the case of Akeda Amusements, where Hanari was thrown out due to the fangan having seventeen participants) and if not, they were counted as novelty.

Also, shout out to Yuki Maeda and Teruya Ōtori for managing to count for two different data sets despite my best efforts at finagling a way to keep them confined to one.

Observations

The first thing I noticed in looking at the ratios for canon Danganronpa was that Academic ultimates are underrepresented compared to what I initially remembered. It had been a while since I revisited the mainline games, and it was a shock to be reminded of that. I was also reminded, but not quite as shocked by the greater emphasis on practical ultimates.

In fangans, the focus on practical ultimates continues to be heavy, with none having less than two. There was also less focus on sports ultimates, with the majority having only one or two compared to the three that the mainline games had a majority of the time. They also tend to have more academic ultimates.

I think that this could be explained by looking at the types of people who make fangans. The majority of people I know who make fangans have very particular knowledge about certain fields due to experience or heavy research, and more often than not these fields do not include sports. They are more likely to make characters based on their experiences and knowledge that they can then insert into the story to make it seem more authentic.

I also, unsurprisingly, found that my "perfect" ratio was not reflected in many of the fangans I looked at. There was only one besides my own that followed that ratio.

Now, if my "perfect" ratio is not the mathematically perfect ratio, then what is?

According to the data collected for the canon games, this is.

This just so happens to also be the ratio for Trigger Happy Havoc.

According to the data collected from the fangans, this is the perfect ratio.

The only fangan that followed this ratio exactly was Akeda Amusements. V3 also had this distribution.

When considering both mainline and fan made games, the perfect ratio was this.

Ironically, not a single mainline game or fan game followed this ratio.

Out of curiosity, I also calculated the standard deviation for each data set.

Canon Danganronpa has little to no variation, conveying that talent ratios are quite consistent between games. The biggest variation would be in the novelty category, making sense as V3 scaled down the amount of novelty ultimates compared to the other two games.

The fangans are shown to have a much larger variation. Though I can't be surprised by this, as perhaps it is an unfair comparison. The mainline Danganronpa games were written by mostly the same team and had less to sample from, while the fangans have not only a larger sample size in which to deviate, but many different writers that think differently about talent distribution.

Final Thoughts

In putting this all together, I found that my classification system, while not perfect in any sense of the word, has some validity to it. If I wanted to, I could definitely make some improvements to it (especially in distinguishing between certain academic and practical fields from novelty), but as of now it works perfectly fine as an aide in cast creation for me.

My ratio is also not perfect, which was an expected outcome. Really none of the ratios I found are perfect, with none of them representing more than one or two of any mainline or fan made game. While ratios like the ones I found can be good for making sure you have a balanced distribution of talents, they aren't required to make a good cast. Personally, I'll continue using my personal "perfect" ratio as a baseline for any cast I make in the future.

I also had a lot of fun making this, and hope I can find a way to make more posts like this in the future. Thank you for reading this.

#woah that was a behemoth of a post #hope you all liked it! #i love statistics so much #danganronpa #danganronpa thh #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #sdr2 #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa killing harmony #drv3 #danganronpa another #dra #super danganronpa another 2 #sdra2 #drdt #danganronpa despair time #brave danganronpa cowards paradise #project edens garden #edens garden game #danganronpa heartless deceit #heartless deceit #danganronpa hushed whispers #danganronpa muave #danganronpa despairs revival #danganronpa rebirth #danganronpa twisted truths #danganronpa despairs flame #danganronpa cyberspace #dangaronpa akeda amusements

[shiyorin]

The Inquisitor knows about yandere astartes, it won't end well

Inquisitor [REDACTED] report on yandere Astartes (????)

+++ CLASSIFICATION: [LOCK]

+++ CLEARANCE: Obsidian

+++ ENCRYPTION: [LOCK]

+++ DATE: 327.M38

+++ AUTHOR: Inquisitor [REDACTED], Ordo Malleus 

+++ SUBJECT: INVESTIGATION INTO SUSPECTED GENEFLAW AFFECTING ADEPTUS ASTARTES SUBJECTS ACROSS ALL CHAPTERS AND FOUNDINGS

+++ EYES ONLY HIGHEST TRANCHESINQUISITORIAL CASE FILE [EXCISED]

Summary of Findings:

Initial reports of this suspected "Geneflaw" first reached my conclave several terran years ago. Astartes assets deployed to war zones began exhibiting highly erratic behaviors and perverse compulsions unbecoming of the Emperor's finest warriors.

Behavioral divergences included:

Unnatural emotional outbursts and loss of emotional mastery

Uncontrollable sexual urges and deviant acts

Possessive, clingy behaviors violating sacred chains of command

Irrational self-destructive and anti-imperial actions driven by object fixations

At first, these cases seemed sporadic and isolated across different Chapters. However, as more deplorable incidents piled up, a clear pattern emerged. Something grievous had gone wrong on a fundamental level.

Excerpted examples of documented cases:

[REDACTED] - BLOOD ANGELS CHAPTER Audio log of Sanguinary Priest [REDACTED]

"Some dark curse has been visited upon our Chapter. A growing number of my battle-brothers have become… afflicted with wanton hungers. No mere physical needs, but all-consuming fixations on certain mortals within our care."

"They will stop at nothing to "claim" these individuals for themselves, body and soul. Any attempt at intervention results in unthinkable acts of disobedience and violence…"

[SAMPLE ENDS]

[REDACTED] - BLACK TEMPLARS CHAPTER Thought downloading from captured Chaplain [REDACTED] upon interrogation

"The time for restraint is at an end. I can bear this throbbing in my soul no longer! She must know the depth of my unfettered desire, the fever pitch of my infatuation. If she does not return these longings, I shall shatter worlds until the God-Emperor take pity!"

*Interrogator's Note: [NEUTRALIZE]

[REDACTED] - EXCORIATOR CHAPTER Recorded pict-captures from helm-cams during incursion on [REDACTED]

-Extreme Battlefield Fraternization between crusaders and human auxiliaries -Acts of exhibitionism and self-mutilation by crusaders -Systematic execution of any battle-brother expressing disgust at above actions -Final pict: [REDACTED]

The list of astartes goes on. Worse, there appear to be no patterns in age, founding, homeworld or even primarch genealogy. These repulsive behaviors are emerging across every Adeptus Astartes chapter at random. The Imperium teeters on the brink of an catastrophic, gene-coded crisis.

Research into potential countermeasures and remedies continues. However, my conclusions thus far firmly advocate an extreme response to contain this threat.

RECOMMENDED ACTIONS:

1) Immediate executions for any Astartes subject exhibiting Geneflawed behaviors. No exceptions.

2) Full and systematic extinction-level viral bombings against all potentially compromised Chapters and fleets.

3) Pre-emptive destruction of all Astartes gene-seed repositories, along with any Adeptus Mechanicus factions and forge worlds implicating in its creation or study.

Only through the complete erasure of this genetic stock can the essence of the Adeptus Astartes be preserved for the inevitable darkness yet to come.

The Emperor's work must be done, no matter how abominable the means required.

I await your tribunal's final judgment on this matter.

Thought for the Day: "There is nothing to be gained through mercy, only fleeting weakness and eventual damnation."

-Inquisitor [REDACTED]

#shiyorin's writer #tw: yandere #yandere au #space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #lol

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hello! I'd like to give Inumaki an ugly Christmas sweater (with high neck ofc) that was knitted by reader. It was her first time, but sweater still looks nice; and probably there is a bear pattern or written something cool and funny.

Good luck!

Ahhh this is so perfect for him, I love it! Also, credit for the text on the sweater goes to that one jjk x reader texts person who has Inumaki's name saved as toge bear. Lmk in the comments if you know who it is.

CW: Singular mention of puke (as a description of a color), crack, fluff

Collab Guide | Collab Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

For weeks you had toiled on your secret project, working well into the wee hours of the morning. Weeks of finger cramps, endless frustration, and eyes burning from a lack of sleep. But finally. Finally, it was done.

Holding out the monstrosity you had created, you couldn’t help but to cackle with glee at your horrific creation.

All your hard work and sleepless nights had finally come to fruition, and in your hands you now held the world’s ugliest Christmas sweater.

The base was a puke green shag, mottled with random patches of mud brown. Neon orange sequins had been sewn winding around the arms, the pattern imitating lights strung around a tree. And to top it all off there was a misshapen white bear with lopsided violet eyes on the front above the words ‘My Toge Bear.”

It was perfect. It was divine. It was your best work yet. Carefully wrapping it in navy tissue paper and placing it in a silver bag you throw open the door to your dorm and make your way to your boyfriends dorm.

“Togeeeeeeeeee!”

You call as you burst into his dorm.

“I have something for youuuu!”

“Really?!”

His eyes light up and he quickly pauses his game before swiveling in his chair to face you.

“Gimme.”

You had barely extended your arm and offered him the gift bag before he reached out and snatched it. Scurrying over to the corner of his room, he sat with his back to the wall and eyed you suspiciously as he opened it. And finally, the moment you had been waiting for arrived. Your boyfriend looked at your creation for a couple of seconds, silent.

You were practically wriggling with glee, dying in anticipation for his reaction to your gift. Slowly he looked at you, and an evil smile spread across his face. He stood, and retrieved a gift bag of his own from his closet and handed it to you.

Wait, where was his abject horror? His look of acute betrayal?? What was with that look on his face? You were beginning to feel a little uneasy.

He motioned for you to open it, before retrieving the hideous sweater and what-did he just put it on?

A sly little grin flashed across his face, quickly replaced by one of doe-eyed innocence.

I love it! He signed, gesturing for you to open your gift. Now open yours!

Filled with trepidation, you slowly pull whatever is lurking in the gift bag out into the light. Staggering back, you dramatically fling your hand against your forehead as you drop your gift. Your handsome, loving, loyal boyfriend had finally revealed his dark side. Laying crumpled in a pile on his hard wood floor was not a ugly Christmas sweater, but an ugly Christmas dress, made of itchy wool and covered with bells and flashing lights.

Do you like it?

His shoulders were shaking with the effort of suppressing his laughter, making his signing choppy. Giving him a half-hearted glare, you made eye contact and that was the end. 

The two of you burst into hysterical peals of laughter as you wheezed and leaned against each other. The second one of you was beginning to calm down, the other would hiccup and start giggling, starting a whole new round of cackles.

Once you had managed to get yourselves under control, the two of you each put on your respective gifts and had a photoshoot, dramatically posing with exaggerated facial expressions. As the two of you rolled on the ground, practically sobbing with laughter after Toge attempted to throw a sultry look of his shoulder for the camera, you fell in love with him all over again. This was what you wanted your future to look like; enjoying spending time with the man you love, while laughing over mundane things such as an ugly Christmas sweater.

#lee's brain writes #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki x you #end of 2023 collab #fluff #crack #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction

[gaiaseyes451]

Choice - A New Good Omens Fic

You may be aware we're having a smut war over at @goodomensafterdark. I'm pleased to be firing my first volley of the war with Choice! Note: Rated Explicit on AO3.

An Excerpt:

At first I wanted you because you were beautiful. 

Oh Lord, but you were beautiful. 

The first time I caught sight of you in the darkness of the budding universe, starlight tangled in your hair, the brightness of creation shining in your eyes. How I had wanted you, there and then. The yearning possessed me, ached in my core, intruded on my thoughts. I passed the nights in my quarters, feeling every needling second as I waited for the appointed time to return to the stars beside you.

I could not say when the furtive glances and carefully incidental grazes began. I tried to deny the feeling, dampen the hope that there was a pattern behind the brief encounters. A side-effect of working in close proximity, I told myself, encounters that were unavoidable and meaningless. Nothing more than happenstance, and surely not borne from your desire. A friction, exciting atoms to emit heat, pleasant in the moment—how I burned for you—but chafing in the aftermath when you pulled away. And so I attempted to deceive myself.

***

Six days I waited for your approach, listened for your voice, felt the phantoms of your touch. You were pulled away, conversing in hushed whispers and strident tones. Angels I had never seen demanded your attention… I sat on the precipice, waiting for any breeze to tip me over the edge.

On the seventh day, you approached me for the third time. Before I heard you, I sensed you—a star binding a body in its orbit, I was drawn to you, encompassed now by a force I could not resist. Even if I could have broken the tether, I did not desire escape. I stilled as you neared, holding my breath, thrumming with anticipation. Your hand hovered between my wings, a touch so light my back prickled as you leaned over my shoulder, breath hot on my ear. 

“Plans are progressing.” Your fingers slipped over the primary feathers to the soft coverts and I shuddered in pleasure.

“The observatory tonight after evening prayer. Let me show you what could be.” You spoke the words with your nose tucked beneath my jaw and I knew you could feel my pulse racing beneath the thin skin.

Your fingertips dug into my back and I arched into the sharpness. “I will not ask again.”

You withdrew, leaving me churning in your wake.

*~*~*

A special thanks to @sohoscribblers and my wonderful beta readers: @hakunahistata, @ineffable-obsession, @the-literal-kj, @adverbian, @depraved_dame, @adeptdragonfruit54, @azeutreciathewicked, @uz-6,

#good omens #crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens 2 #my fic #my fanfiction #good omens smut #good omens heaven #good omens fandom #ineffable smut war

[ofmiceandwomen]

I’m very bad at social media but on the other hand I keep complaining that nobody cares about my creations and it’s like a vicious circle and I don’t know what to do with it.

Also, I have been experiencing a kind of a Tolkien burnout recently, and I feel particularly bad about it.

So, anyway… have my latest passion project - Autumn court waistcoat inspired by ACOTAR series. Maybe it will be a full Eris Vanserra cosplay although I don’t particularly love the series.

I have copied the pattern from 1760s waistcoat and I got inspired in the Napoleonic uniforms for the embroidery.

The waistcoat is made from synthetic silk brocade, embroidered with metal (I love the gold work and the oak leaves make me feel very heroic and empowered, lol).

The shirt is a classical 1700s shirt and my first attempt at historical sewing.

Is anyone interested in these irregular screams into the void?

#this embroidery technique will make everything look absolutely splendid although my embroidery skills are nonexistent #I might or might have not threatened to throw it out the window at one point #the ginger on a ginger background is obviously my kind of ginger camouflage #the quality of the picture is so bad it looks like I took it on a typewriter #eris acotar #eris vanserra #goldwork #embroidery #historically accurate #historical clothing #18th century #napoleonic era

[lizaluvsthis]

The Girl in Fatal Lavanders

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

First (Prologue)

Author's note: I'd like to thank @itsajjanea for drawing three that describes out the song Heathers by Conan Gray (I loved that song before and still do) the song gave so many feels <3

For now- onto the fanfic!

Summary: SMG4 has found someone new, much to Three's dismay. He couldn't help it but feel like something is wrong with his new "Girlfriend" and that there is something more going on with her than just being all 'kind' and 'polite' to people, especially with SMG4.

will SMG4 still end up being inlove with the Lavender Girl? or does he end up with Three's open heart

Tags: Enemies to Friends, Sun and Moon, angst, betrayal, catching feelings, comfort, hurt/comfort, drama, enemies to lovers, enemy, fluff, oblivious, slowburn, fruityass, gayness

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG3

SMG4 & Original Character

PuzzleVision(TvAdware) & Original Character

SMG3 & Mario

SMG4 & Mario

Beginning Chapter - 1 New Person, 1 New Goal

An announcement breaks out from the castle of SMG4's as he calls everyone. "The hell did you bring us here for?" Bob angrily asked, ruining his dating plans with another chick.

"Whatever it is, I don't care." Three calmly said sitting peacefully on the couch waiting for SMG4 to say something. "Prepare yourself to be blinded by this but..." 

"But first- promise you guys won't laugh..." SMG4 held back in reassurance from his crew's support. Boopkins being the bright one of the team, spoke. 

"Awe don't worry SMG4! We won't laugh or judge you!" SMG4 gave Boopkins a weak smile and proceeded, taking a deep breath. 

"I know it has been a few weeks now since I've gone out for a few or most days, I never bothered to check the castle much because I went away. Now that I'm back again... I wanted to surprise you all with something..."

"Ohhhhh is it spaghetti-os?" Mario cheered in excitement, but with a disapproving look on four's expression, he wasn't talking about that. "No, but it's something else... I uh- I've met someone new" 

Four gave a nervous chuckle at the end. The whole crew felt silent as they all began to laugh. SMG4 felt embarrassed and humiliated himself, grunting and blushing down. Mario spoke up.

"Are you sure you're not high or anything S-M-G-4 ? Or haven't you gotten enough B-tches from the past few years you've attempted dating a girl? Oh no wait- you don't have any!" This caused the whole crew to laugh even more, except for Boopkins and Meggy.

"C'mon, guys! At Least Four is trying his best here- say- SMG4, we haven't met this person yet- what's their name?" SMG4 looked at Meggy bringing his smile up again.

"This is a surprise everyone- but... here she is!" A door opens from the entrance, with a first footstep from the opening. Is seen with purple scandals following on with a pair of white socks exceeding up to the leg reach.

Slow opening, the person dressed in dark magenta overalls. With the length of the pants put a match near the sock's leg reach. With cute navy blue buttons, and lilac color of cloth from their shirt.

Up to the face with a smile, oddly enough with a non-patterned color of red as the hat's signature. Almost near to Mario's similar color but gave off soft and dark.

The symbol from the top spots out a "#" Then the hair gave out a brunette color, and the excess ends to the shoulder length gave out curls. 

Oddly enough, Lavender colored eyes are rare to have. And a mole near the corner of the left cheek.

She gently closed the door, seeing from her second hand, it was a phone with the color of cyan. "Hello there everyone! Wow! I'm super excited to meet you all!" Everyone went silent.

"Guys, meet my new girlfriend..." SMG4 let out his hand extending to the brunette. She gladly accepted the handhold, getting pulled slowly by SMG4s. She looked at everyone who still smiled, side-hugging SMG4 with his hand touching her back.

"Haha- very funny SMG4-" SMG3 crossed both of his arms, there is no way SMG4 could pull out someone with the likes of HER... (plus- she looks kinda mid...) SMG3 thought to himself squinting his eyes at Four's new 'Girlfriend's' face.

"Are you brain damaged?" Three pulled out his sarcasm to see how his 'girlfriend' would react to that and how she'd deal with it. Unfortunately for three, however, She was pretty aggressive for action so he brought back what he said.

"Aren't you emotionally unstable?" The crew went on with the hums of "oohs" as Four quieted them down pushing three out of the way. "Hey- slow down- we don't want to settle up fights here, right "Three"?" 

SMG4 tilts his head, side-eyeing at Three. He just wished that the man wouldn't do anything stupid. "Right." Angered by the purple and black. 

"Anyways- six, you have the microphone" SMG4 lets go of her to make the brunette feel welcomed and comfortable. "Hello everyone! My name is T-A-G-6, I'm just a lovely and polite girl who loves to play video games and helps out with editing videos! I do find memes funny too besides with this cutie" 

Six looked at Four with a smirk and winked at him, four giggled like a blushing boy from high school. This made Three's brows change out with a more angered expression giving her the looks.

"My name stands for 'Totally-Average-Girl' then there's six! You can call me Tag or Six if you prefer it that-" SMG3 decides to break in again, approaching her confidently smiling. 

For three who wanted to show her who's boss at being close with SMG4.

 "how about bombers? You sound like a horse and you play like a hooker tiny wrink-" 

TAG6 took a step back summoning a big solid grey hammer, whaming Three's chin then up to the roof where he gets thrown out to the space leaving him screaming.

"So- any questions?" Her left eye twitched from Three's sudden call from her. (Why he... better get a taste of his own medicine! ) Six pouted her mouth just putting a thought about Three's immediate reaction.

"Ooh! Ooh! How did you two meet?" Tari asked intrigued with TAG6's special skill and appearance. "Funny to answer that but- we met online" SMG4 walked in looking back at Tag's lavender eyes.

Four and Tag explained to the crew how they met while on a public server from multimedia works. Four noticed Tag has the same interest as him, and a few more days of him taking her on dates.

The two finally made it official. "Wait wait! Did you both kiss?" Saiko looked at the two with an amused look when Four and Tag struck eye contact and then back to her. "Umm- no we- haven't yet... we're taking this whole thing- slow..."

TAG6 made a sheepish grin and with Four scratching his back, "We uh- we're not there yet..." SMG4 looked down sadly but forced a smile just for TAG6 to not worry her.

"But- that's okay! We can- do that if... we're both ready..." simply patting Four's back gaining comfort from her.

The crew showered her with questions and conversations, as Meggy left in hopes of finding where SMG3 had gone right after TAG6 blew him off the roof.

"SMG3? Are you here?" She said following three foot tracks from the mud. "SMG3!" Meggy shouted his name to be left with faint sobs near the bush.

Meggy quietly sneaks in, to see SMG3 crying silently hugging both of his knees. "What am I gonna do now? Four has a girlfriend and he didn't even tell me... I don't even know WHY this bothers me so much-" 

Meggy felt bad at Three, he didn't deserve any of this. She began to back away but snapped a twig from under, getting Three's attention as he looked at the sound.

"Squid. What are you doing here...? Came to make fun of me?" SMG3 wiped out his tears after seeing Meggy, getting up properly from the ground.

"I didn't mean to barge in like that, I saw you crying and... well- sorry..." Meggy held her left elbow in a single shell of comfort.

Three sighed, but seeing him not pushing or telling the orange squid to go away. She continued. "He means so much to you if that's what I would've guessed" 

Meggy stood next to him, looking down at the ground. "Ever since before and after three, I know. I saw how you acted... you know, you can't keep your feelings in there for too long" 

“I can’t say that I’d let it all out only idiots do that.” 

Meggy turns around. “It’s your choice, only you decide what you pick. Please remember SMG3… it’s not healthy to cover up wounds without someone doing so.” 

“But at all costs, you’ll be okay three” Meggy placed her hand to his shoulder. “I can’t promise that sh-t.” SMG3 shrugs off Meggy’s hand leaving her out of the way.

—-

In the castle, SMG4 enjoys getting compliments on how he just got a girlfriend along with them congratulating him. For Mario however, he doesn’t see anything changing from the man.

“Boy, you sure know how to charm a woman SMG4” Mario gave out a laugh to which SMG4 gave along. “Guess I bring out my luck to 'em” he finger guns at TAG6 with a wink.

TAG6 played along to her role, acting in love, acting happy, acting fine, acting okay. Everything was fake behind the mask, she felt anger, disgust, hatred, and pity with his crew and SMG4 to himself.

(How cheesy could this guy get along with his members? It’s so boring…) The goop who controls its own human body, rolled its eyes for who knows how many?

But no matter… I still have the Meme Guardian in our grasp, there is no way of escape for the man and the plan itself…

TAG6 made a sly face behind his shoulder. This plan is just getting started…

“Hey! U-uh- Meggy Spletzer… was it?” She caught the orange squid’s attention by surprise. “Yep, that's my name! You know me from somewhere?” Tag gets too excited and squirms, hugging Meggy tightly in results crushing her ribs.

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD- OH MY GOD!!! I’M SUCH A BIG FAN! I SAW YOU ON TV, YOU WON ON SPLATOON FEST!” Tag shook her from side to side, nuzzling under her neck. “Sorry- heh…Again- I’m such a big fan!” Disgusting. 

Meggy swoons her head from left to right, trying to recover her strength after Tag lets her go. “How long have you been a fan? Now that's a shock, but- well- it’s an honor to be known as your splat star!” 

(Everything is going smoothly as it is… remember the plan… get close to his friends and never let them know about his disappearance.)

With a quick glance on the brunette’s, it is now Mario’s turn again to speak with his closest friend. “Don't you feel a bit happier now that you got a girlfriend SMG4?” Mario asked, in such a simple question. 

This made SMG4 rethink about his whole life, yeah he is happy that he got a girlfriend. But why does he feel like something else is missing? Why did it feel so wrong? Where does he even get this? It couldn’t possibly be SMG3.

The SMG3 he knew wouldn’t be having these kinds of feelings to him… right…? He's never been the intimate guy that he knew who would be pulling these stuffs... or would he...? Nah- three doesn't have these stuff its just SMG4 being an overthinker...

But really tho... he doesnt have these feelings to him right...?

…

Right…?

“Pshh- You’re talking nonsense Mario- TAG6 is a perfect girl and a perfect person to me! Why would I be less happy about this?” SMG4 re-arranged his hat and pulled his collar.

It felt that something inside of him cracked, from this hurting and deep tingling he’s touched. He couldn’t get a hint.

Mario points up his hand, speaking of his joy rate. The more the red italian spent the time with SMG4, the more he knew every move and every breath of his best friend.

There is a high difference on how he acts around them, yet this one is giving him a vibe that- he couldn’t understand.

Something is telling him that this person does NOT have a soul… nor this person is even living...

——

Next Chapter - One is off, theres two but one

[PENDING...]

#lizaluv #smg34 #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #tgifl #my fic

[anon-e-miss]

The Desert Blooms - 10

“I know it wasn’t an easy decision,” Jazz told Prowl. 

Crowds had lined the streets cheering as they had ridden to the temple in a sedan chair. They had not come across as vindictive or wrathful to Prowl. He had searched the faces of thousands of mechanisms for hatred and he had only found jubilation. With singular joy, they had cheered the return of Amalgamous’ sparkline to the throne of Polyhex far more loudly than they were cheering Barricade and he taking the Touch of Adaptus. The worst of the indolent fool’s excesses had been well hidden and well managed during his life. If he had not been assassinated while serving as Prime in Iacon, there was no telling how much worse it would have gotten for Polyhex. He had named Zeta Major, Prowl’s eldest uncle his heir. The same uncle who had first attempted to murder Camshaft when they had been small sparklings. Zeta Prime had known who had arranged for this and had allowed his originator, the Emperor to collect on his debts by invading Polyhex. Perhaps it was karma that Zeta had been assassinated by Sentinel. Regardless, Prowl did not grieve the mech and unlike Amalgamous there was no cult in Praxus celebrating him. Windbreaker had only made a token show of anger at the murder of his first emerged. A simple bribe had been enough to see him turn his troops away from Polyhex. Sentinel had overpaid. Those troops had been simple conscripts pained to look like noble creations, trained from emergence for war. Zeta had not been worth even a single battalion of Praxus’ elite troops.

Barricade and Ricochet had been ushered off into their own room. Prowl wished he was not here to endure this but Barricade would not go and Prowl had made his peace with it. Jazz kept him company as they waited. As they spoke, priests were brewing the tisane that would unmech him. He had come to the temple wearing his armour, polished to a shine, he would leave in a silk gown. Already, it was hanging over the chair in the sitting room. The material was so fine, that Prowl hardly felt it against his sentio-metallico. To think this was what he was to wear for the rest of his life. It was unlikely he would be permitted to wear armour as Punch did, no matter the circumstances. Though having seen the welts and sores armour left on the revolutionary Touched, Prowl did not believe he would be terribly inclined to break that convention. In for a thoughtful touch, Punch had woven the cloth himself, creating a beautiful floral pattern. He had woven silks for Barricade as well in rich purple and black. It had been the norm when Punch had been Touched that the silks they wore to be perfectly sheer, simmering white. Prowl thought he understood why and it had nothing to do with the fragility of the Touched. Pigment and embroidery, done correctly added some modestly to a Touched’s garb and modestly was not their due. Would there be grumbling when he stepped out in his for the first time? The gown was sheer where there was no embroidery but there was embroidery over his array and his wells. His spark chamber would be bare between the panels of silk that made his bustier. It could hardly be called a chest plate.

“It was not as hard as I would have wished,” Prowl replied, twisting the soft silk of the gown’s skirt with his digits. 

His vestigial claws had been painted gold. Punch has not been sure if they would fall off as he was changed or if they would impale his digits internally if they were sheathed so for the time being, they were on display, perhaps they always would be. Would they still grow? The Emperor’s were long, as long as each digit in length and he kept them painted red and viciously sharp. His originator had always kept his claws short and unpolished and Prowl had always done the same. Camshaft and not seen the point of lacquer when he dug in the garden as often as he could. 

“Barricade would not have liked it if I had chosen death but he would have understood my reasoning, even though he disagreed with it. I could not have explained it to Bluestreak. He would have only known more pain, more loss. I was not sure if his little spark could take it. After I spoke to Ratchet, he confirmed my fears, there was really no choice at all.”

“Do ya regret’m imprinting on ya?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Prowl replied, smoothing the silks he had wrinkled. “Maybe I should?”

“Ya got a spark for love, nurture‘n protection,” Jazz declared and Prowl found his cheek plates warming. “Ya don’t regret doin’ what ya did for my framekin, do ya?” 

“No.”

“Even now?” Jazz asked. “Knowin’ that they celebrate what’s comin’?”

“Do they not see it as a blessing?” Prowl asked. “In the Lower and the Least?”

“Yeah,” Jazz replied. “They don’t know better.”

“Exactly,” Prowl replied. “They do not know better.”

“Y’re a good mech,” Jazz replied. “I can’t give ya the life ya deserve but I’ll do right by ya.” 

“Thank you,” Prowl said. “Punch is a fine mech, one of the finest I have met. You and Ricochet do him great honour as his creations. I believe you will show yourselves worthy as kings.”

“I hope you’ll be willin’ to advise us.”

“Of course.”

Punch brought Bluestreak to him a final time before the ceremony. The bitlet all but threw himself from Punch’s arms and into Prowl’s. He clung so hard, digging his tiny, clawed digits into his armour. Bluestreak latched hard, harder than he ever had and he suckled with great urgency. Prowl stroked his back and crooned to him. Since Bluestreak had fully imprinted on him, the bitlet had not been away from Prowl’s side for even a moment and this mega-cycle they had been apart for two joors already as Prowl had been detailed from ped to helm and the pure bitlet was beside himself. The violent loss of his biological family was still far too fresh, Prowl realized and he just could not cope with a prolonged separation. What were they to do after the ceremony?

”Seems like yer gonna have to bring Bitty Blue to us soon as ya think Prowl can handle it,” Jazz said as he stroked Bluestreak’s helm. The touch helped to reassure Bluestreak further and he became less frantic in his nursing. Prowl sighed with relief and he nodded.

”I will,” Punch promised. “I’ll take good care o’m. I promise.”

Prowl trusted him. He knew Punch would dote on Bluestreak even more if only Bluestreak would let him but Bluestreak had become very clinging as soon as Prowl had begun to lactate for him. Punch was one of the two mechanisms that Bluestreak could enjoy a little snuggle with, Barricade was the other. He loathed Ratchet at the moment. All the pain and confusion he had endured had been overlaid onto Ratchet. In time that would fade, Prowl hoped. Eventually, Bluestreak would be old enough to be reasoned with but he was just a tiny bitlet, not even a stellar-cycle old. Prowl wished he knew what his procreators had designated him and what they had been called themselves but their Praxian neighbours had all fled and no Polyhexian neighbour had come forward with information. It was unfair; their creation deserved to know them.

“Y’re sure?” Jazz asked as the temple bells rang. It was time. Prowl cocked his helm.

“Would you prefer if I changed my processor,” he asked.  

“Primus no,” Jazz exclaimed. Prowl raised his doorwings in surprise at the force of Jazz’s cliffs.

“I believe you,” Prowl sighed and his doorwings drooped with relief and he found himself flushed again. Jazz smiled at him and it was a charming smile.

“I don’t wish the Touch on ya, but I wish for death less,” Jazz replied with simple sincerity. “I wish I could think o’ some way to spare ya this that wouldn’t mean war with the chiefs. I wish, I didn’t think sacrificin’ ya was the best answer we were gonna get.”

“I do not wish for any more harm to your framekin,” Prowl said. “They have suffered long enough. I was always intended to be a sacrifice. In this way, I can serve as a shield against the Emperor’s machinations, rather than a convenient excuse for war.”

“I hope some mega-cycle I get to tell yer ori what a good pair o’ mechs he raised,” Jazz replied.

“I cannot imagine Originator being permitted to come here,” Prowl said and he grieved that with all his spark. He missed Camshaft dearly. He wished he could tell him that he was going to the temple and to the Touch with a clear helm. If Camshaft ever did make his way to Darkmount, it would not bode well for Jazz or Ricochet.

“From what ya told me, he ain’t the sort to ask permission,” Jazz replied.

No, Camshaft had never been inclined to ask permission from the Emperor and unlike the adage that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, Camshaft did not ask his originator’s forgiveness when he did as his willed. But Windbreaker was both cruel and petty and he knew his second creation perfectly well. It would hurt him to be forever separated from his creation, just as it would hurt Prowl, the most reviled of his grandcreations and Prowl had no doubt Windbreaker would make it all but impossible for them to reunite. Prowl prayed his originator faced this cruelty with stoicism and not temper. He did not want Camshaft killed. Perhaps, in time, one of his uncles, or perhaps his aunt would draw the focus of Windbreaker’s ire and Camshaft would have the chance then. Windbreaker hated Camshaft even more than he hated Prowl. It would take quite a grievous error to distract the emperor’s wrath from spiting his Second emerged.

Symbolically, it needed to appear that the one to be Touched went to the blessing willingly. The fact force was applied in the background, as it had been for Punch, as it was now for Prowl and Barricade, could not be on show. Prowl imagined there had been times when mechanisms took the Touch fully willing but Prowl suspected more often than not there was familial pressure and manipulation behind it. No mechanism after Prowl and Barricade would be faced with this pressure. Jazz and Ricochet had stayed out on the burning sands until the playing on their legs and arms had burnt and blistered to ensure they found every crystal and destroyed every one. They would go out again, Jazz had told him, at least once a vorn to make certain no new crystals ever grew.

Prowl stood in the doorway and waited. He saw Barricade take a goblet from from the priest at his own door and brush past the mech mid-blessing. He walked past Prowl to join him in his room. Prowl lightly dipped his doorwings as Ricochet followed after him. Prowl took poisonous tea from the high priest as the priest Barricade had interrupted, rushed to join him and the priests blessed them both as they exalted Adaptus. Jazz waved them off and closed the door. This was a private thing. Though Prowl would be presented when the ordeal was over, to show all, mostly the court, it had been done. Setting the poison down, Prowl removed his armour as Punch had advised. Prowl shrugged his doorwings as the others watched anxiously as he retrieved the poison and drank it down.

Pain!

He screamed but no sound came out. Prowl felt to the floor, saved from falling flat on his face by Jazz’s quick catch. It felt like Jazz’s digits were digging into his plating. Over and over Prowl wretched as it felt like shards of glass carved their way through his fuel tank and energon lines. It felt like acid was burning through his array. Servos cupped his helm as he writhed on the floor. The carpet scratched his sentio-metallico; it felt like hundreds of small knives cutting over and over. A keen deafened him and for a moment Prowl thought it was his own but his spark flared and Prowl dragged himself onto his knees and he crawled towards the door. Bluestreak. Bluestreak was hurting. His legs gave way as the poison burned like acid through his array. Was he leaking energon? It felt like he must have been. Though it felt like the carpet would skin him, Prowl pushed himself up onto his elbows. Bluestreak. Bluestreak. The door flew open and the keening became louder.

“What’s wrong with him?” Barricade demanded.

“He feels it through the bond,” Punch explained. “Jazz, help’m sit up.”

“I don’t wanna hurt’m,” Jazz sounded distressed.

“Ya will,” Punch replied. “It can’t be helped.”

“‘M sorry Prowl,” Jazz crooned and he pulled Prowl into his arms. Prowl thrashed. A cry finally escaped his vocalizer. Jazz was crushing him!

“Hold the bitty to his chassis,” Punch ordered.

“Won’t that make it worse?” Jazz asked. A weight like a boulder pressed against his chassis. Bluestreak’s spark screamed against his and Prowl stopped his thrashing and crossed his arms over the bitlet and trembled with pain beyond agony. His ventilations came in hisses as he tried to still his spark so as to soothe Bluestreak.

“No,” Punch replied. He stroked a tear from Prowl’s faceplate. “Their sparks were feeding off each other, creatin’ a loop that mighta been strong ‘nough to gutter’em both.”

“Fraggin’ pit,” Jazz cursed. “‘M so sorry Prowl.”

“Are they okay?” Barricade asked.

“I think the worst is o’er,” Punch said. “Barricade…”

“Ya don’t gotta do this,” Ricochet sounded panicked as he caught Barricade’s wrist. Prowl looked up at his brother and saw a will of fire.

“I only waited in case this was some trick,” Barricade said. He pulled his wrist free and took a step back. Prowl locked optics with his brother. “You aren’t getting rid of me.”

#valveplug #maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf barricade #tf ricochet #mechpreg #the desert blooms

[ansxit]

The Beauty and the Dreaming

[Morpheus x Reader (Beauty and the Beast Au)]

a/n} Yesyes I did post about the Howl's moving castle au,,, but this came first in my brain so here it is! i assure anyone who will read this though, the hmc au is on the way !! (will probably post it later this week lolol) btw comment if you want to be part of a tag list for this series !

(Also!! Please reblog + like!! It would really mean a lot to me !! <3)

Prologue, Part 1

- The cruel King of Dreams is cursed by a witch, doomed to be a beast forever and to be forgotten by humanity. But what happens when a determined woman finds herself in the abandoned halls, and happens to fall in love with the unlikeliest of people.

TW] Small Description of bone disfigurement

~Prologue~

There are trivial things known to the world, many mortals dedicate their lives and lineage seeking power, glory, fame. It's a deep concern as to why beings with no need for the shimmering stones or acknowledgment within history would want. But maybe in their anthropomorphic personification’s hearts lay the same greed a dragon has to their hoard. Or in the way a king will still demand everything from nothing; either way, beings such as the endless decided to want, and the frivolous things they surrounded themselves with became the utmost important in society.

One of these beings was none other than the King of Nightmares, ruler of the dreaming; Dream of the Endless. His kingdom in the mortal plane was grandiose and, to put it simply, beautiful. Ivory walls, golden inlay held just the support of the palace’s walls. The gardens were vast and endless, with blossoming flowers stretching towards the horizon, their soft petals drinking in the bright sun. The knowledge held between the walls of the palace was more than what could be gathered in several lifetimes. There was a nearby village, one full of his citizens who he liked to call Dreams, amongst them lived his creation called Nightmares. Together they lived to serve him and the grounds, and in return lived peacefully amongst the flowers and trees.

No mortals were permitted past the kingdom's gates, however. It was the one law the King enforced with an iron will, but eventually under the threat of his siblings, they were finally permitted past the gates for one night and one night alone.

On this fateful night, the sun was shielded from the kingdom, the dark clouds murmuring bringing upon an unwelcome storm.

-

“You act like you are going to a funeral.” Jessamy stated dryly. She moved to the other side of Dream, taking another pin and not-so subtlety stabbing him in the elbow with it. The suit he adorned was black, with the subtlest hints of gray when the candlelight struck. Each seam was pressed neatly, and just below his collar lay a glinting red ruby.

“I might as well be,” Dream declared, side eyeing her. Her dark skin blended beautifully with the black garbs she donned for that night. The patterns on her skirt matched the ones on his vest. It was a familial sign, perhaps even one of trust. “A party, inviting simple mortals into my palace.” He shook himself and Jessamy sent him a glare.

“Those ‘mortals’ are your people too; All of them dream, therefore they belong here just the same.”

“They are insects, crawling and destroying any life they are granted with. Let it be a miracle to them they are even permitted past the gardens.” The Lord of Dreams squared his shoulders, daring her to even attempt an argument. Jessamy lifted her chin, defiance glimmering in her clever eyes.

“My lord, if you will-”

“Sire,” a voice interrupted from the door. Standing there was a woman in a blue vest, with a pocket watch held out like an offering. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but there is a woman requesting your presence.” The Lord of Dreams stepped off the podium, not sparing Jessamy a single glance.

Enchanting music swirled around him as they exited the West Wing, making their way to the main hall where the party was commencing. Servants bowed as the Lord of Dreams passed, and many of the partygoers below the bannister whispered at the shadows that followed behind him. Outfits with stark white frills floated around the room, the chandeliers casting bright light above them all, and the musicians sat in the far left corner of the room, their director joyfully conducting the tune. The King looked down at the dreamers, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips.

How could mortals beat the beauty that were his citizens, it was a question that needed no answer; they could never compare.

“She seeks an audience with you,” Lucienne whispered, motioning towards an older woman, gazing at the golden decor with wonder in her eyes. The longer the king stared at her, a feeling of uneasiness slipped through him, and the dreamers that surrounded her appeared to sense it too.

The rain beat like a steady drum against the windows, lightning flashed as the cloaked woman side-stepped into three, all holding the same cutting eyes. But when the thunder roared to follow, it was the one beggar woman, knelt in front of him.

“Your highness,” The woman whispered, her gnarled hand reaching out to grab at his lapel. “Please, let me seek shelter from this storm- there will be no trouble amongst your realm, I will leave when the sun breaks.” Dream slowly took her hand off of him, and his lips curled in disgust.

“You have no right,” He paused, his tone laced with poison, “to lay your hands upon me.” Old anger as hot as burning stars shot through him, and the shadows that danced behind him grew taller and leaner.

“My lord please, I beg of-”

“You shall beg nothing of me,” He sneered, “You will leave my palace at once, and my realm for that matter. And if I ever see your face again, you will live to regret it.”

The woman knelt to the floor, dejected. The Lord moved to walk away, finished with the events of the party, but stopped when what sounded like laughter began to radiate from her weathered bones. The King of Dreams watched the one woman revealed to be three, and for the first time in his existence, He felt afraid.

Wrenching gasps and screams filled the room as most of the party goers watched the women orbit around their king, all cackling as he spun to protect himself. The harsh rain rattled the windows, threatening to break them.

“One shall not turn down the fates that lead you,” The Crone sneered at him, her eyes piercing his soul like a sharpened blade, twisting deeper into the grooves of his very being.

“You are still young and foolish, Endless.” The Mother tutted, reaching out to grab his chin before shoving Dream away. “Appearances are deceiving, but you won’t worry about that anymore.”

He fell into the shoulders of the Maiden, who giggled and kicked him to the ground.

“You shall be cursed with a beast as cruel and ugly as your heart,” The Maiden said, her black eyes shimmering as the mist began to swirl around Dream. “Since you act like a monster, why not look like one as well.” The air became heavy in the circle casted around him, and Dream found himself

“A wall will be cast, the mortals will forget you and your pitiful prowess.” The Mother stalked around him, cackling as he tried to stand, but invisible forces shackled him to the ground, as if his own shadows strangled him.

“It will stretch as far as your gates, so no one may ever find you again,” The Crone sneered, “You will be forgotten, and maybe then you shall learn humility again.” The one that was three began to circle him, a gray mist swept through the ballroom, the guests all but gone as the magic ran to capture them all.

The sounds of bones popping and crunching competed with the symphony of the storm raging outside, as well as the loud cackling from the Fates. In the distant halls, Dream could hear the cries of his servants and citizens. The dreams and nightmares that brought meaning to his realm, swept into the storm of his mistakes. As his collarbones cracked, he finally caved and let out a horrid scream- one that felt to shatter the windows and crack the mountains holding his realm together.

Many centuries passed, and the people outside the kingdoms forgot about the Sandman and his realm. Nightmares ran rampant through the waking world, and mortals fell into fitful dreams, terrorized by the fears that followed them.

-

“Y/n!”

A voice broke you out of your reverie, and warm hands pulled you out of the way of an oncoming wagon. With a beating heart, you turned to find your younger sister, Rose and behind her, Jed who was flushed from trying to pull the both of you back onto the sidewalk.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Rose chastised, “You’re going to give me gray hairs, and we’re not even thirty yet!” Her tone was playful, but the way she gripped your hand told you she was terribly worried; well, for good reason, You supposed.

“Oh, just daydreaming I suppose.” You squeezed her hand and smiled down at Jed. “I dreamt of a fantastical castle, with gold everywhere the eye could see.” He broke out into a grin and you eagerly continued on. “There were these two little raven’s concocting mischievous plans.” Rose Simple rolled her eyes and, with you and Jed in separate hands, walked you both through the traffic and into the markets.

“Like those ones?” Jed pointed, and you followed his hand to some black birds perched on one of the building's roofs.

“Hm, I believe those are crows, but it’s a common mistake to make. In my dreams the ravens were accompanied by…” You trailed off, and watched two men walking together in the distance, the happiest of smiles on their faces. Your heart tugged as they reached to hold each other’s hands, faintly remembering wisps of black hair. “A beautiful prince.” You finished, and Rose turned back to give you a questioning glance.

“And this prince was very kind,” A soft smile crossed your features and you reached over to grab Jed’s hand. “He treated his subjects fairly and there was never a cloudy day in their kingdom.” He hummed and they lazily swung their interlocked hands.

“Well what happened next?” Jed asked, letting you lead him out of the way of other pedestrians as Rose hurried on to hit all of the needs from the grocery list.

“I dunno, I suppose I’ll find out tonight when I dream again.” You grinned.

“Rosie, I want to dream too!” He exclaimed, running up past them both and climbing onto the fountain’s edge. “I want to be a prince with a castle and ravens.” Kids and adults alike stopped what they were doing to watch Jed balance on the fountain. The nearest people covered their child’s ears, while most hurried to move away from him. Some noticed you as well, averting their gazes and keeping a wide berth away from You and Rose.

“That’d be lovely, wouldn’t it bud,” Rose said, turning to give you a hard stare and motioning towards the vendors. She went up to him and held his hand as he walked along the side, “But we have Y/n’s dreams, and her stories— so it's better that she tells them, right Jed?”

You sighed, choosing to ignore whatever convincing argument Rose said to satiate Jed for the evening, instead beginning to pick out some fresh fruits from the bin. Dreaming was a finicky thing nowadays, with some falling asleep and never waking up, as if in a coma; Which made people fear everytime they fell asleep. Most simply never dream, just drifting through the nothingness for the hours until they awoke. But you had been one of the lucky few, if not only, people who still dreamt. While they weren’t as much as the fantastical adventures you would tell to Jed before sending him to sleep, they were still special in their own right. But nothing was wrong with a little extra imagination every now and then.

The golden kingdom still tugged at your mind as you purchased the fruits, thanking the man and going to find Rose again, hoping she wasn't as furious as she pretended to be. As you walked away, you noticed an annoyingly familiar face jogging to catch up to you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Rowan called, briskly passing people and giving you a cheeky grin the closer he came. Now, you were not a hateful person; but Rowan was absolutely the exception. He was vulgar, loud, obnoxious, and somehow the prized jewel of the town you and your siblings resided in. According to every other woman in the village, he was the handsomest, rugged, and had everyone tripping over themselves to even get his attention. He had money to waste, and one of the most skilled huntsmen in the town. Beside him was “Hey,” He greeted, “What're you doing here?”

“Oh, Hello,” You greeted with a grimace. “We’re getting groceries, like many others are today.”

“We?” Rowan’s eyes narrowed and he began looking behind you. “Have you been holding out on me N/n? Last I heard you weren't interested in anyone.”

A warm hand slid into yours and you looked over to see a very pissed off Rose glaring up at him. Behind her was Jed, holding her basket of vegetables from earlier.

“We, as in her family. Besides, it's not your business whether or not she’s courting someone.” Rose squared her shoulders and if it was even possible, Rowan narrowed his eyes further.

“He's not worth it,” You sighed and as you moved to walk away, Rowan’s hand shot out like a snake and grabbed your wrist.

“Come on, Y/n, just let me take you out for one night— I can make it worth your while.” You grimaced and wrenched your arm away.

“No offense, but I wouldn’t consider it even if you were the last man on earth.” You took Rose’s hand and started walking back to the path home, with Jed walking two paces ahead.

As you walked off, one of Rowan’s hunting buddies came up beside him, and clapped him on the back.

“I don’t see why you leave them alone, you said it yourself on how you despise her spitfire of a sister.”

Rowan smiled at your reatreating figure andturned around to face his friend.

“That's where you’re right, but oh so wrong. It's the evasive prey that make it the best hunt. She'll come around, and that's when I'll make her my wife.”

-

“I don’t like the way he talks to you.” Rose grumbled, holding open the door for Jed with her hip. You sighed and grabbed the basket from her arms and set it on the table inside. “I mean who does he think he is? The king of England?” You snorted and Jed started giggling.

“He certainly has audacity where he lacks brains,” You mused, lighting a match to get started on dinner. “I'm thinking some stew for tonight, how about you?” You looked over at Jed, who was sorting through the fresh produce. He looked up and nodded at you, and Rose walked over to join him— getting a pail out to wash the fruits in.

Jed started to hum as he worked, with you and Rose joining in occasionally. It was a song their mother had taught them, and eventually found it's way to you when you were all younger. Between the three of you, You had a different mother than them, being born just weeks before Rose was due. There was a little strain on your family relationship, but once your guys’ father left the picture, the hurt became easier and there became no blur between you and your siblings anymore. While you and Rose were similar in age, you took on the responsibility of caring for the two of them when their mom passed away. Of course, Rose wouldn’t let you take all the responsibility, and together you tried the best you could to give Jed the best childhood he deserved.

At times it became difficult, but when there were moments like these, it made everything worth it.

But what none of the siblings realized, that this would be the last peaceful dinner any of them could have for a long, long time.

-

Despite what Rose had said, Jed always knew the stories Y/n were actually just her dreams. He had tried to read the same books as her, trying to find the ending to whatever bedtime story he sought that night, but they weren’t the same, and his imagination couldn’t do it justice. But he didn’t quite understand

His teacher wasn’t too pleased to have him tell the wonders of dreaming to his classmates, and after Rose found out, Y/n stopped talking about the Sandman. Instead, she talked about day-dreaming, using her imagination to create her own adventures to tell to her little brother.

He desperately wanted to dream, he wanted to go on incredible journeys he imagined and go back to his sisters and get to tell them the stories of his adventures. But his wish remained ungranted, and sleep became a very disappointing venture.

But then, one fateful night, he found himself wandering a lush garden, with hedges twice his height, and flowers that bloomed colors he had never seen before. A childish joy overtook him as he ran through the gardens, wild animals and butterflies took off as he chased the breeze that flew around him. He finally broke through the garden and his jaw dropped in amazement as Y/n's storytelling voice drifted through as a reminder.

A grandiose, golden castle sat in the center of the garden, with a fresh snow falling from the skies above. With the castle was clearly in disarray, it meant nothing to the young boy who could finally find an adventure for himself.

The grand floor was completely deserted, and no candles were lit as far as Jed could tell. “Maybe the prince had found a different castle.” Jed thought to himself, running his hands along the ivory railing and sneezed at the dust that flew into his face. Soft whispered trailed behind him at he climbed the stairs, but he couldn't care less; First he wanted to explore.

Jed managed to find a ballroom with the windows shattered in it, many many guest rooms that he believed could house the entire village if it wanted to. He also found a dining hall and kitchens, and then finally he stumbled upon the master bedroom.

While the rest of the castle appeared to just lack some dusting, this room seemed to have been pillaged- or as if a wild beast was set free to destroy everything in its path. He found a painting of a pale man with wispy black hair and equally black eyes, but it's face had been slashed and it's frame was cracked in many places. Jed grinned as he began to imagine whatever prince owned this castle facing in a terrible battle to defend his citizens and the final showdown happening in the very room he stood in.

In the far right of the room, lit perfectly by the moonlight was a rose protected by a glass dome.

“The treasure the prince was protecting,” Jed whispered excitedly. He reached out to touch the glass but a giant clawed hand grabbed his wrist painfully before he could do so. Gold shivers wracked his body as he looked up at the beast that had caught him.

He'd couldn’t find the words as he stared at the monstrosity that towered over him. It must've been at least seven foot, with black, matted fur draped over its hulking form, feathers protruded from the creatures should blades into giant wings, and it stood on hind legs, like a person would. The creature wore tattered royal clothing and a glinting, red ruby hung from it’s neck. The scariest thing about it though, Jed thought as he saw the pointy fangs protruding from the creatures mouth, was it's incredibly human-like eyes. Intact, they looked just like the dark eyes in the painting of the prince Jed had seen.

“What are you doing in here, mortal,” It snarled, and Jed whimpered as the grip on his wrist tightened. “You trespass into a realm that is not meant for your pitiful existence.”

“I'm- I'm sorry!” Jed cried, and fast crocodile tears rolled down his face. “I just wanted to have an adventure, I didn’t realize—!” He broke off into sobs as the creature bared its razor-sharp teeth again.

“You should have known better, boy.” He hissed. “You mortals are all the same, destroying any good thing we have left. Maybe if we lock you up for an eternity you shall learn your lesson.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jed cried again, and the beast wrenched his arm hard enough to pop his shoulder. The boy let out a terrible scream as he was dragged deep below the kingdom. His cell was small, and there was little moonlight that made it through the bars.

“It's just a dream, it's just a dream.” Jed told himself, but when he opened his eyes, he was still in the prison. He pinched his arm, nothing. More sobs wracked through his body and he curled up into himself. Rose was right, dreaming was too dangerous for him, and now he'd never see his sisters again.

a/n} Please reblog + like!! It would really mean a lot to me !! <3

#fanfiction #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x reader #beauty and the dreaming #beauty and the beast Au #lucienne #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #the sandman netflix #morpheus fic #morpheus fanfiction #rose walker #jed walker

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

*hold gun cutely* Your turn to share headcannons for us to stea- take inspiration from

I find this so funny because there was a period of time where I only posted HCs… and it’s so weird bc damn I don’t do that anymore huh

A lot of my HCs have obviously changed in the 2/3 years I’ve been posting for this fandom, so…

Ahem.

If you ever want any SPECIFIC HCs, do ask, like I’m genuinely happy to offer any info you want. Anyways

DIVINE WARRIORS, because mfers keep talking about them.

TW, for like, sacrifices, and attempted child-murder/sacrifice... and child-on-mother cannibalism... if it counts as cannibalism when the child is a god.

They’re all gods or god-adjacent. Everyone talks about how they are making them not all gods, but fuck that man I find this fun.

They all reach their godhood in different ways, though. and godhood is something that is... complicated. fluid, even.

i'm just gonna talk about Shad (Judgement, in LR) and Irene, tho, bc otherwise this post would be mega fucking long. and i'm pretty sure i have a Kul'Zak ask anyways.

Y'know how people say 'the world is your oyster'? Well, the world is shad's egg. literally. He's the Draconic God of Death, and his entity was created in the belly (centre) of the earth, in heat and warmth and magma. He clawed his way out of the world, and this lore is mentioned in the prologue of LR, but his emergence from the core of the earth caused the earth to bunch up, and created mountains and valleys, and ravines. similarly to dropping a pebble into water, his emergence caused literal ripples. which is why most mountains and such are kind of in a radial pattern outwards from the 'belly of the world', which is just a huge fuck-off ravine. That said, not all mountains, because it's been thousands/millions of years since his emergence, and things do change. He was created as a god, before anyone knew what gods were. He was not the first being to exist, Early humans were around to witness his birth, but he is by far one of the most ancient. Hence why his followers call him 'the Ancient'.

Irene was born a god, though she was birthed by human parents. It's a whole situation, really, very lengthy. More about her mother than it really is about Irene. But she was born during the emergence. Her head crowned as Shad's emerged from the earth, and when he had fully freed himself and laid upon the cool ground, Irene was put into her mother's arms. Her and Shad are perfectly the same age, born at the same exact moment, to balance each other out. It's unclear which one sparked the creation of the other, but it doesn't matter. Both were born bloody and screaming, made to match. Irene was, however, not born looking human. She was a creature from day one. And she was ugly asf too bc like, she's feathered in her creature form, and have you ever seen fresh baby birds? Them mfers ugly. So, reasonably, her parents' people went 'aa' and decided to sacrifice her to the juvenile god of death bc they have volcanoes now, they can do that. However, Irene's mother was fiercely over-protective of her, and instead hid her in the woods to keep her out of the grasps of those wishing to harm her. She meant to go back and get her, so that she could find somewhere safe for her, but Irene's mother kind of got caesar'd (happy ides of march for two days ago), for trying to keep the fucked up little thing she birthed. Her body was dumped into the forest, and Irene ended up finding it and going 'oh a snack'. so... that's fun. However, as is how blood magic works, when one of magic consumes the heart of another, they consume their entirety. It was how Irene claimed a human form, by eating a human heart, and whilst it wasn't particularly an instantaneous transformation, it also lead to her becoming a mother. If not for eating her own mother's heart, she never would've had the maternal traits that ending up characterising her for most of her existence.

half of the irene stuff wasn't even info on how she became a god lmao, just 'oh she was born that way... also she ate her mother lmao'

#could get into the metaphors but nahhhhh #tw cannibalism #tw sacrifice #tw attempted child murder #aphmau #aphverse #aphblr #rewrite #minecraft diaries #mcd #ranthredo #Lycoris Radiata/Ranthredo #maybe i should make a 'ranth lore' tag

[seramilla]

I bet it was the exterminators trying to get rid of the ones that will most likely be able to fight back.

It takes almost 6 months for Odette to recover from her ordeal. Even after months of physical therapy, as well as actual therapy, because the event left her mind and body scarred, she is still slowly on the mend. There is no easy or expedient way to get over an attack from angelic weapons; somehow she is managing it, but it’s been a long and difficult process. Verosika sleeps over almost every night at this point, unless she’s on tour; if she can’t, Odette will crawl into bed with Clara or Carmilla. Even if Kiki or Velvette are staying over, they will always make room for Odette, so Clara’s sister will never have to feel alone.

Carmilla is thankful they have a family now to help Odette through this. Odette has the type of support system Carmilla could never provide on her own, and for that, she is eternally grateful. However, she’d be lying if she said this hasn’t taken a toll on herself, as well. Even though she will never admit such things to her children.

Carmilla puts on a brave face for her daughters. She still doesn’t know who tried to murder her kin right on her own turf, but for Odette’s sake, she never lets her own pain show. Her daughter needs her — needs her to be strong, be a rock she can lean on when she herself is feeling weak. They may have others she can rely on now, but Carmilla had promised her she would never let her guard down. Not again. Not after what happened.

This isn’t anything new for Carmilla. Tampering down her own fear and anxiety is something she’s done ever since Odette and Clara were children. What’s one more thing to worry about?

Except, she’s not handling it as well as she lets on. Multiple times now she’s been jarred awake, thrashing and practically screaming in Sera’s arms, until she realizes it’s just her wife holding her cheeks, or rubbing her temple and trying to calm her down. Eventually she will realize she’s in no imminent danger, and she’ll collapse into Sera’s arms. Sera will comfort her, or sing to her, or just hold her like the tiny thing she tries desperately not to be in public. Carmilla doesn’t know how she’d get any sleep if not for her.

Carmilla’s anxiety reaches an all-time high the day she finds a mysterious letter waiting for her on her desk at work. Her name is written on the back in golden script, in penmanship she does not recognize. The envelope is covered in a gaudy, embossed floral pattern, and still has a smell of that particular place about it. Carmilla suspects she knows the origin of this particular letter. She wastes no time in opening it, and while her suspicions are quickly confirmed to be true, it doesn’t halt the horror she feels upon reading it.

“Greetings to Carmilla Carmine. My sincerest hope this letter finds you well. You may be wondering at the purpose for this auspicious communication, so I will get right to the matter at hand. You are harboring known fugitives of the Heavenly realm; antagonists of our great cause to maintain the balance between our worlds. What’s more, it has come to our attention that the weapon which felled Adam, the First Man, was of your very own creation. With these facts before us, we have reached an unfortunate conclusion — you and your associates must face consequences.

You may have noticed our efforts to infiltrate and serve justice have thus far been unsuccessful. Good work on thwarting our attempts; I would expect nothing less from the likes of you. However, our patience runs thin, and this office must find a conclusion to the problem that you pose for our realm. Thus, I’m offering you a deal. A simple solution that ensures your family’s safety, for the swift return of the fugitives, and an immediate halt to any further manufacturing of “Holy” weapons in Hell. This is a mandate directly from Heaven.

The angels you harbor are an abomination, as are the weapons you construct. You have 3 days to return Sera and Emily to us, and cease any and all further modification of angelic weapons. To refuse means the lives of you and your daughters are forfeit. There will be no negotiations. Any attempts to alter our terms will serve as a refusal, and justice will be swift. This court is done playing games, and we will entertain your existence no longer.

Please consider our terms. Leave your response with your own letter on the roof in 3 days time. Someone will be by to collect it. Think carefully about your next move, Carmilla. Don’t make the wrong decision.

Sincerely yours,

- Seraphiel, the NEW High Seraphim of Heaven.”

#carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #helluva boss #verosika mayday #kiki helluva boss #velvette habzin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #seramilla #sera x carmilla #carmilla x sera #see what y’all made me do #tw: angst #seraphiel #attempted murder angst au

[thespianinthebackcorner]

bringing this old thing over from Hoyolab

its a theory of mine about Rhinedottir from a while back that I think still stands. I'm just copypasting the entire thing so here we go

Ok so I've had this theory simmering for a while now but after that new trailer and some research it's really coming together. Compared to some other theories out there it doesn't have that much evidence but I am fully prepared for any new Rhinedottir lore so if you have info I've missed please tell me (and tell me where you found the info so I can factcheck.)

My theory summarised is: Rhinedottir, like her son, is a synthetic human. This actually started out way back when we first heard her name. Rhinedottir. sounds like Rhinestone, yeah? And what's a rhinestone? A man-made stone. I did some research into the word Rhine on its own though, and it's (a) the name of a river in France and (b) literally means "that which flows" in like Czech or something. (Edit, it's not Czech, it was like Celtic or something, sorry) So I thought it was a dead end at the time.

But then I did more research. Basically, the "dotter" part of the name is a Swedish last name suffix. Joined onto a name, it literally means [name]'s daughter. (If you're wondering, the male version is "son". Like Johnson or Andersson.) Which is where things get interesting. Since this is Rhinedottir's first name, it seems like her own master's name was simply "Rhine." Which, for a synthetic human, would make sense, as their master is usually the most important person to them. If Rhinedottir chose her own name, it wouldn't be surprising that she picked that. Or, that's the name her master gave her, and she chose "Gold" for herself. (Of course, abiding by the Swedish name logic, Albedo's name should technically be "Rhinedottirsson" or "Goldsson" but... Well, it's pretty clear why Rhinedottir didn't follow the pattern.)

We could also take the "Rhine" part literally, making her name mean "Daughter of That Which Flows." Considering that the alchemical substance that seems to bring these kinds of things to life is a liquid, it makes sense. (Albedo had a line in 2.3's Shadows Amidst Snowstorms that implies this- "The alchemical substance drips and spreads out in all directions, resulting in this rather ingenious diamond shape." He's talking 'bout the star on his neck.)

My second piece of evidence is the story teaser- that is, the Windblume cutscene. The Hexenzirkel that she belonged to was formed a long time ago, and in the conversation in the trailer, Andersdotter (the woman who wrote the Boar Princess, who was human) mentions that her lifespan is nothing compared to the other members of the Hexenzirkel. This conversation appears to have happened before the Cataclysm, so it implies that Rhinedottir already had an extended lifespan. She could also simply be a human cursed with immortality after the Cataclysm, but since she literally went underground for 500 years afterwards, I don't think she could have spared the time to have a tea party. She was blamed for the whole disaster, remember, and it was her creations that went out of control across Teyvat, so she was probably running and staying away from society while working on her ongoing project. In the same cutscene, the hands that hold the small child when she's speaking look a little like puppet hands- they look a bit like they're made of multiple overlapping plates. Coincidence? I think not.

And as a last piece of not-really-evidence that I just want to mention- she's been portrayed a lot as a very cold, calculating woman. And yet in the cutscene, she's shown to have her own humanity and affection for her creations- a direct contrast to how the rest of Teyvat sees her, and how her actions have influenced the world and the people in it. From her creations going wild and causing the deaths of many people and other characters (Xiao's siblings included) to her ruthless abandonment and attempted murder of Subject Two, it's interesting to see her own feelings for a change. However, that stroke of humanity we see is also an explanation as to why Albedo and Durin are so attached to her regardless. (Well, were in Durin's case, but... Not the point.) It's implied in the descriptions of the claws we get from defeating Rifthounds that she considers "Cretaceus"- aka Albedo- as her greatest creations, and that Durin of "Humus" is far greater than the Rifthounds, and likely most of her other creations. So perhaps, despite being an awful perfectionist and a sorry excuse for a mother, she loved her "children" in her own way. It's possible that this morally grey switch between "cold and calculating" and "warm motherly type" is a direct result of the way synthetic or artificial humans- not just in Genshin but in lots of other media too- struggle with how they perceive and express their own emotions, often resorting simply to their natural cold, blunt, logical way of taking things when it gets too much for them or they get confused. Which often results in them suffering even more emotional pain and/or guilt, but what's life without needing therapy at some point? And since that conversation we hear Rhinedottir talk so fondly in likely happened before the Cataclysm, she might've been damaged by all that as well, and used raising Albedo as a method of escapism- leading to her perfectionist attitude getting the better of her. Perhaps she disappeared on him so readily because she needed time to heal, and she had nothing left to teach him in her eyes.

So yeah, that's the theory. If you've got this far thank you, cause I know the formattings gonna look awful on PC. Sorry.

#genshin impact #genshin #rhinedottir #albedo #genshin theory

[bloodiedbeloveds]

Rotating BDTA-John in my head, and it's leading me to ask... why does he paint? And why paint, rather than write or sing or something else?

this is a really good question! it prompted a long conversation, but we didn't come to an agreement, so here are various perspectives.

"Having left the education system as a form of rebellion, it seemed obvious to him that he must pursue an artistic career of some nature. I think he is a painter because he has isolated himself from the world in trying to hide his inhuman nature, and it is easiest for him to pursue a career path where he is not required to make many public appearances and where he is expected to be somewhat skittish and eccentric. As a musical performer, he would have much more difficulty hiding his wings."

“honestly he probably could have been a writer and it wouldn’t have changed much, to tell you the truth the others are giving all these sensible watsonian explanations but i’m 95% sure it’s because we like describing fictional works of visual art”

“shut up it absolutely would have changed things, him being an artist adds to the epistolary form by contributing even more implied content— in the same way that there’s all these interpersonal interactions which must take place but aren’t written down, the descriptions without the presence of the actual images add to the sense that we as readers are not getting the full story. this is especially blatant in we never really learn, with that image description”

“my take is that he has to be some sort of creative for this story to work, because so much of it is about perception & a lot of his Issues are about how he makes so much goddamn money by drawing his deepest traumas and people eat it up. but actually we started thinking about this because of the trends in modern poetry publishing. so that could’ve worked. so i think it’s mostly for the epistolary stuff”

“he could not be a singer because part of his tragic backstory is having loved to sing as a child but having that joy taken from him because he didn’t sound human enough. the simple childhood pleasure of singing a duet with yourself strangled by shame and self-hatred and despair”

“there's also a historical explanation for this— BDTA (the first fic, not the series as a whole) was written as a reaction to some AUs we had with a friend & to the subsequent acrimonious parting we had with them. it's actually kind of spiteful; we wanted to write something better and more interesting than they ever could have come up with. we've moved beyond that in writing the rest of the series, but john was a painter in the AUs with which BDTA is in conversation, so he's a painter now."

"okay this has no precedent, i'm just making this up, but it's super convincing + sad + creation is about constant reinterpretation, so bear with me. john, as a child, was very sad and fucked up and coped with his alienation from his peers + from childhood as a whole via a) reading too much and b) drawing too much. so by the time he's a teenager he's already fallen into the pattern he exhibits as an adult of drawing tortured eldritch characters as a form of emotional self-harm, and when he drops out of college + loses access to his previous viable career path art is both his only other major skill + something he can't stop doing even if he tries."

"honestly, this is making me interested in a take on BDTAverse where john is a fiction writer and alex is a freelance artist. (hey, you know what would be super fucked up? if The Photo hadn't been released, and alex drew for magazines and people kept asking him to draw john's suicide attempt)"

"anyway! i think he paints as a compulsive thing, because he has so few emotional outlets, and doing art about it has been pretty much the only way for him to manage his feelings for a lot of his life. (he learned, as a child, that there are correct emotions to have and if you don't have the right ones people will be mad at you, so talking about it has been out of the picture for a long time.) and once he doesn't have other career plans, well, he's going to be painting fucked up stuff anyway, might as well sell it"

#does this help? probably not! but we had fun writing it #asks #bdtaverse

[pawsnread]

The Making of Cubao Goes to Cannes

A lot of you may have seen the progress of Cubao’s suit on twitter, but I thought I would take a moment to note down my thoughts while progressing through the suit construction. So here’s a general summary of what I did, why I did it, and what I was thinking while making this tiny suit.

It all started, of course, after seeing Gong Jun walk the red carpet in that gorgeous Jason Wu creation. I was able to watch his walk live between work things; the whole thing only lasted maybe 2 minutes but it was the highlight of my day/week/month.

I was fixated on this suit for days afterwards, but it wasn’t until close to the end of May (probably a good 10 days later) that I decided to try and replicate this suit. It was partially motivated by the fact that my Cubao is the 15 cm version (the more common version is 20 cm) and it’s always so difficult to find doll clothes for that size (though it saves the wallet). Seeing as I have 13 years of cosplay experience, I was like “I’m used to frankensteining patterns to fit me, why not try in small scale? Less fabric, less stitching, how hard can it be?”

I was about to find out.

Having never made doll clothes before, I started by using stockpiled fabric to make mock ups while sourcing out fabric and other notions. First thing on my to-do list was pants. I had a pair of doll pants that were too small and short in the waist for Cubao’s rotund bum, so I deconstructed the pants and used it as a template for a mock up. I added about an inch to the top and about 1/4 of an inch to the bottom hem; after putting them on Cubao, I started pinning to the right height and length in order to determine where the hems and waist should be and the seam amounts. Last step was to add elastic and finish the seams.

This is the mock up in progress (left) and completed (right). It was a pretty simple process and moved pretty easily. Once I found fabric I liked (after purchased 4 other types that didn’t match the color - good thing about doll clothes is you don’t need a lot), I constructed the suit pants. I lined the suit pants since they were a bit translucent, and the extra fabric made them as little more snug than I anticipated, but it still turned out fine. The leg hems were finished by hand because I wanted and almost invisible stitching, and I always finish suit pants by hand. The pants fit well enough that I made two pairs of doll pants out of chambray fabric for my dolls to romp around in with other outfits.

Next was the shirt, and that was a process.

I started off with a pattern I found on Pinterest but original came from Xiaohongshu (I think, I can’t really make out the watermark). There were no measurements on the pattern so I had to undergo some trial and error sizing the pattern up on my printer. The sleeves seemed odd to me, so I initially reworked them to be raglan type sleeves thinking they would work better with Cubao’s mostly straight arms. Mock up #1 ended up fitting very poorly with the collar too low.

I sized up the pattern a smidgen, reprinted, and went back to the original sleeves. For mock up #2, I attempted to change the collar to mimic a more traditional shirt collar, which has two pieces - one neck piece and the actual collar. That turned out to be too much fabric for a little bao.

In the end, with mock up #3, I went back to the original shirt pattern and only omitting the extra fabric piece for the front closure, folding over instead. The collar opening ends up being a little wide, but not as much as my first attempt so I can live with the little gap.

Mock up #1 at the top, #2 on the left, and #3 on the right.

Overall the shirts were relatively easy, except for the sleeves. Sleeves have always been the bane of my cosplay/sewing existence; sewing sleeves on small scale was more difficult than I imagined given the tinier space to work with.

I actually made two suit shirts, one of a textured material and one of the same, slightly stretchy material used in mock ups #2 and #3. The textured material is more appropriate for shirts, but there was no stretch so getting it on Cubao was challenging.

Next came a little bowtie. I don’t have a lot to say about this process as it was pretty simple: sew two rectangles then attach them to an elastic band. Initially I wanted to mimic the double layer of Gong Jun’s bowtie, but that’s too much fabric for a tiny bao.

Last up but the most important part was the jacket. I started with the same shirt pattern but sized up again to ensure there was room to get both bao arms and sleeves in, also to accommodate the lack of stretch in the final fabric. The first mock up had no changes as it was done to see the fit and determine how the collar would be cut. After making the necessary trims, mock up #1 was deconstructed and the pieces were used as a templates to cut out mock up #2. In working with mock up #2, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to do a set in collar as I had hoped. The jacket collar is an important element to the suit so I didn’t want to not incorporate it. In the end, I decided to do stitching to mimic the lines of the collar.

Mock up #1 on the left with the front pinned down, and mock up #2 on the right with the collar stitch placement outlined in red.

Once the jacket was mostly sewn together, I laid it out on some pattern paper and traced around to get the general outline. I then used this outline to design the beading. There was little chance I would be able to replicate the beading exactly without seeing the suit in person, so I tried to incorporate some of the details that caught my eye (notably the swirl like patterns). Initially I had planned to do the beading on mesh fabric, cut it out, then sew it to the suit like actual bead work is done. After my initial attempts, I learned two things: that takes FOREVER on small scale, and the mesh fabric is very noticeable on a suit that small. My sketch was also way more detailed than feasibly possible on doll clothing. I ended up having to simplify the design and sew directly onto the suit jacket.

Initial sketch work on top, and beading process below. I tried to keep a loose tension during the beading so as not to cause any puckering of the jacket.

Miyuki Delica size 15/0 beads were used. Silver beads were the main design element with AB crystal beads as accents. The AB crystals came in two sizes; the larger ones were mostly used to give the design a little bit of dimension. Pearl colored beads were later used for the dangles. 15/0 are tiny beads to work with; most of the silver and AB beads were able to be threaded through a thin sewing needle, but the pearl beads required me to switch between sewing and beading needles to get them strung and sewn. For the dangles, I attempted to follow a similar pattern to the original, looping and hanging in the same places.

After the beading, the arms were sewn up and the sleeve hems, bottom hems, and inner collar were hand stitched down. Initially I had planned to line the jacket to make it a proper jacket. However, after constructing everything I found adding the lining increased the bulk and would make it impossible to get Cubao’s arms + shirt sleeves in.

Last was to add the hand made pipa knot closure in the front and the button knots on the sleeves. Both of these were made with 2.0 mm nylon macrame knotting cord and surprisingly very easy once you get the hang of it. The final touch was the brown shoes; these were purchased off Taobao using Superbuy as a proxy, and they arrived just yesterday, the day after I finished everything.

Overall, I am very pleased with the look. Construction was spaced out because of work and a bit of anxiety on my part. Concessions had to be made since bao clothing is on a much smaller scale. Naturally there was bits and pieces I’m not super pleased with, but overall I’m quite happy with the results. It was a feat, to say the least, replicating such an intricate design for a 15 cm doll. I’m glad I did it, but I’m also glad I don’t do this for a living. 😅

Hope you enjoyed this little insight into the process. If you have any questions, just pop in an ask and I’ll be happy to answer them. 😊

#crafting #sewing #doll clothes #cubao #bao clothing #cuhanbao #my crafts

[metrova]

Mimikyu's Origin

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction. I hope you guys like it! Pls don't judge too harshly lol

@vall007 @bi-fiend yo guys Mimikyu lore, I think you'll love this :D

A long, long time ago, when the Great Olde Ancient Ones were still around, was birthed an entity we know today as “Mimikyu”. Shub-Niggurath had her pleasure with a human man, allowing another one of many monstrous abominations to be created and brought into their realm. The entity originally did not have a name - it did not need one, for it was not important. Its appearance is still unknown, but according to some interpretations, it’s said to be about seven feet tall, with tentacle appendages making most of its form. It has two piercing pink-colored eyes which may be the last thing you see before inevitably dying upon witnessing the creature’s true appearance. When The Ancient Ones still reigned over Earth, the entity, along with many others, was released to wreak havoc, destroy and kill anything and anyone in its path. Although it is nothing compared to the Ancient Ones, to an average man it was as much of a threat as they were; it seemed to take great pleasure in watching the humans quickly lose every bit of sanity upon seeing its incomprehensible to the mind appearance before viciously tearing them apart.

When the Ancient Ones were repelled away, while some were lucky enough to be taken with them, most of their creations were left stranded on Earth, the entity being one of them. They all perished either from the piercing heat of the sun or the poison of the stars, except it. It managed to avoid the harsh sunlight, nor was it affected by the poison of the stars. Darkness seemed to give it a sort of energy.

…

After years upon years of being stranded alone in the realm of humans, the entity eventually became curious about them. Yet it knew it could never approach them, for its appearance would make them promptly drop dead. This made it experience its (second-to-)first emotion - loneliness. The entity eventually learned to isolate itself from everyone, keeping itself out of sight. The more time passed, the more that empty feeling within it grew. Over its many centuries on Earth, it has seen how humans and their companions interacted with each other after The Ancient Ones had disappeared - how they spent time with each other, how they leisured, how they had fun, how they… Shared physical touch. It wished it could have that. It really wished it could have that. Yet it knew it couldn’t.

In a more recent time, somewhere around the 2000s, the entity had taken shelter and resided in an abandoned store (which is known today as one of the trial sites in the region of Alola). It has seen all there is by now, yet could never experience it. It learned that a certain creature had been getting adored by humans - a cute fuzzy little yellow rodent with long, pointed ears, two adorable little brown eyes which one could easily get lost in, and red circles on each cheek serving as pouches to store electricity. Its charming appearance, along with its “cool” factor, seemed to attract quite the following.

The entity figured it could try to mimic that creature - perhaps it could try disguising as one and get a little positive attention, too! So, it took a yellow sheet and began crafting a disguise, putting all and everything into it. Once finished and satisfied with the final result, it set out for the first time in Azothoth-knows how long. When it tried to approach people, however, the result was not as expected. They seemed frightened by it and seemingly tried to avoid it, given how quick they were to walk away. It had not realized, but its appearance,  although supposed to imitate such an adorable creature, had ended up appearing more frightening and ominous - wobbly, busted ears, black scribbles for eyes, orange scribbles to imitate those red pouches and a wide smile-like pattern for a mouth. Defeated, the entity retreated to its shelter, the feeling of loneliness now having grown into a big, empty void within it. It began crying to itself, for all its time and efforts were completely in vain.

A young man, a journalist, found out about it and decided to observe it and its behavior, eventually finding out about its intentions and desire to get closer to humans. Hence it attempted to mimic another creature, the man decided to name it “Mimikyu”, and that’s how we know the entity today. One day, the young journalist passed after accidentally being exposed to Mimikyu’s true appearance, which it eventually noticed and found his unconscious body. It looked through his notes, and that’s how it found its new name. That’s when Mimikyu eventually decided to observe other pokemon, learning how they spoke and the sounds they made. That’s how it learned to speak the way we know it to, with that cute high-pitched voice.

I wonder, what would have happened if the Alolans had not turned their shelter into a trial site? Would Mimikyu have never been noticed? Would it not be as famous as it is today? That is up to your interpretation.

#pokemon #mimikyu #pokemon mimikyu #fanfiction #fanfic #pokémon fanfiction #ghost type #fairy type #gen 7

[comicaurora]

This question has almost certainly been asked before, and apologies if it has, but I've been thinking about creativity and creative endeavors and such and I was very curious. This comic has clearly been in development for a long time, so my question is, what was the creative process of developing this world and story like for you? Where did you start, stuff like that?

Like many projects, it started because I was bored and unhappy and I wanted a fun place to put my brain. I was eleven-ish, socially isolated, ADHD-undiagnosed, internet-free and entertainment-deprived. When I read Diana Wynne Jones's Tough Guide To Fantasyland for the first time I had a sudden burst of clarity and realized if I couldn't have entertainment I liked, I could make it. (A lot of my issues were permanently resolved as soon as I got an internet connection, for the record. It's like an IV drip for an ADHD brain.)

I started building a fantasy world, initially just by throwing in everything I liked and every idea I thought was fun. It was like I'd just discovered the concept of drinking water for the first time - there was no strategy and no higher plan at the beginning, I just really needed it. At the time I thought my end goal was to create a comic I could read and enjoy, but I realized gradually that it's impossible for an artist to ever be their own audience - instead the enjoyment I was getting from the process was the actual act of creation itself. I liked having ideas and having somewhere to put those ideas. I liked fitting ideas together and finding bigger, more coherent patterns in the mess. I shifted away from "piling on every single thing I liked" and towards a more coherent strategy - building a world that actually held together, a magic system worth exploring, and a gradually-expanding cast of characters that were fun to play with.

At this point I'd say this wasn't too far off from how a kid would play with dolls. You have characters and dynamics and maybe even an overarching plot, but ultimately it's freeform; you're not aiming to construct a coherent narrative, you're having fun. But the idea that someday this world would be something I actually made was very useful for me, because it became something of an unreachable star I could orient towards.

As a side effect of Who I Am As A Person, I have a lot of trouble learning skills if I don't have a reason to want to know how to do them. The process would be incredibly slow and incredibly tedious until I was given something I could tangibly connect the skill to, at which point I would suddenly pick it up startlingly fast. For instance, I was initially slow to pick up how to read - I had the alphabet down, but putting the characters together into words was hard and boring. I could pick out the names of storefronts, but who cares what a store is called? And then my dad started reading me Harry Potter as a bedtime story and I got so invested I decided he was getting through it too slowly, and somewhere in that fugue state I apparently just learned how to read so I could get to the good stuff faster.

So before I had the beginnings of this world, I had been taught how to sketch and how to write, but in my head those skills were tedious to learn and pointless to master. I didn't want to sit down and draw owl wings from every angle, and I had no stories I wanted to write, so the good-natured attempts from my parents to teach me those skills were just deepening the tar pit of my constant, crushing (undiagnosed ADHD) boredom. But now I had a concept I wanted to create - and more than that, I wanted to do it justice. And that meant I had a lot of stuff I was suddenly very invested in learning how to do.

Art was the big one. I was also obviously bad at writing, but that was harder for me to notice. I knew when I tried to draw things they didn't turn out the way I saw them in my mind, and that frustrated me. This is when my habit of doodling in class went from a minor distraction to a full-on menace, and also when I started contemplating the logistics of actual comic creation and distribution. I knew from my mom that the comic industry was a huge pain in the butt and not a good way to get your story told the way you wanted it, and I also knew many comics were having newfound distribution success as webcomics, which at the time was a fairly new form of the medium. So that meant I had to learn how webcomics worked, and I had to either get really good at physical art or I had to start looking into the also-new field of digital art.

It kinda continued on like this. I got better at sketching, won a gift card in an art competition and used it to buy my first digital drawing tablet, honed my skills and continued to work on the lore and story of the world, which at this point was threatening to become too massive and unwieldy to do anything with. Some of my early digital art went into my college application art portfolio, so somewhere on some eight-year-old uchicago computer there's a very dramatic drawing of Falst and Kendal fighting in the rain. I was juggling a lot of different things at this point - the channel was just starting to become A Thing, so that was taking up some attention, and I was developing an interest in voiceover and prepping for college, so the story sort of ended up on the backburner for a bit. I think this was good, because a lot of projects like this really need time on the backburner so your subconscious can look them over, clean them up and drop in some editing notes for the next time you pick it up.

When I got back into it in the first year of college I'd started experimentally drawing comic shorts, character intros and chapter covers. I had the cast and overarching plot pretty solid at this point, so with the basic framework of the story ready to go, I just needed to make sure the art was up to snuff. And it wasn't. So I took a few more years, honing my skills by drawing lots of video frames and more test comics and getting acclimated with Clip Studio Paint's tools, and after I graduated when I was in the post-college haze of Suddenly Absolutely No External Stressors And Schedules, I said "fuck it" and bought the domain name.

This story, in a very real way, grew up with me. It provided structure and stability that my mind needed, and in return I could refine and rebuild it better and better over time. I didn't want this to be A Good First Try, I wanted to be good enough to make it good. I was a tool to make the story better, and the story was a tool to make me better.

I have no idea if this is applicable to literally anyone else, but that's basically been my process. All things considered, I'm quite happy with where we've ended up.

#asks #behind the curtain