//ok guys legit ok listen

please figure out the difference between me and @shenpaidoodles

Like im not mad or anything but ive been getting some inboxes and messages complimenting me on comics that i haven’t done, shenpai’s done them :^)



Atrium House by Tham & Videgård Arkitekter | via

Tham & Videgård Arkitekter created ‘Atrium House’, a vacation home for a family of three generations on the island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea. It is built around a completely enclosed atrium courtyard that is designed to serve as a fixed point, a sheltered outdoor room. The rest of the property is left undisturbed as a meadow where grazing sheep prevent the land from returning to forest.

Inspired by the impressive materiality of Gotland’s vernacular agricultural architecture, the masonry construction has a natural plaster colour that has been mixed with carbon black, exterior metal parts made of oxidised zinc, and oak doors as well as windows that have been treated with tar oil. The large sliding glass windows are mounted on the surface of the exterior walls, according to the same principle as many barn doors. Also the interior doors are surface‐mounted, allowing the walls to appear unbroken.

Photography: Åke E: son Lindman

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Settle Down With Me.

After chapter and chapter of TTDP, (don’t worry it’s still on going), I decided to take a break and do a little one shot. This is inspired from an prompt given by the lovely destiny919 and the song “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran aka my other boyfriend. This was written and listed via my phone so sorry for any errors etc. Hope you enjoy!

“Almost there Lydia, I promise. Hold on”.
The bedroom door burst open to reveal a soaking wet Stiles who was carrying a equally rain drenched Lydia. Her face was hidden against his neck and although her hands were clinging to him tightly, she was weak in his arms.
“We’re home now Lydia, you’re okay. We’re going to get you warm and dry.” The boy carefully placed her onto his bed before diving into his bathroom to retrieve a bundle of towels.
He kneeled beside his unmade bed, Lydia looking tiny in the mess of blankets. She was shivering, her usual vibrant curls now a dark auburn colour and plastered across her pale cheeks.
Her lips were blue.

Panic rose in Stiles’ chest and it came bubbling out of him in a rush of words as he watched the girl slowly close her eyes.
“Lydia! Hey Lydia, wake up. Come on, keep those eyes open for me.”
Lydia’s eyes fluttered and her faze was unfocused as it rested upon the boys face.
Recollection came back to her as she realised she was in Stiles bedroom.
She had had a banshee episode, a horrifically strong and powerful one. She was led into the woods by unseen force and she screamed until her throat was raw and her tears couldn’t be controlled. She screamed for what seemed hours in the relentless rain that slammed into her from the purple skies.
When Scott, Stiles and the sheriff arrived, she had taken one look at then, broken her scream and fell to the ground.

Stiles had taken her home. He had carried her to and from his keep, his own body holding little warmth as he cradled her small frame. Her eyes flickered again, the dim light from the lamp beside her illuminating the features of the concerned boy.
He sighed in relief as she came to once more.
“Hey pretty girl, welcome back.”
If Lydia had the energy, she would have blushed.
Her voice hoarse and broken, her lips numb and painful, she managed to whisper: “I’m so cold Stiles”.

The boy leapt into action and within minutes her soaked jacket was eased from her shoulder, her shoes placed on the warming radiator. A towel was wrapped around her limp curls and the boy hesitated at the zip of her dress.
Lydia gave a small, sleepy smile, “It’s okay. I don’t have the energy Stiles, my arms won’t reach. I’m too cold”. She gave another violent shudder that made Stiles’ mind up.
Delicately, he unzipped her floral dress and flung it to the corner of the room were it was already forming a puddle of water.
He would deal with it later.

Stiles did is his best to keep his eyes downcast, but having Lydia Martin in his bed in only her emerald green underwear, was proving difficult.
She shivered again. Her usually creamy skin looked deathly pale and her lips were now tinged a frightening shade of purple.
Stiles ran his hands up and down her bare arms and legs soothingly, hoping and praying that she would warm quickly.
Another tremor ran through Lydia’s body and Stiles’ voice held fear when he groaned, “I don’t know what to do. Will I run a bath? Help me help you, Lydia, please-“
He was cut off by a murmur of words that barely left her lips, however, he heard her - loud and clear.
“Take your clothes of Stiles and get into bed with me.”

Settle down with me.
Cover me up, cuddle me in.

The boy swallowed noisily and gaped at her through hooded, chocolate eyes. His rain soaked hair was a mess that fell across his forehead.
With shaking hands, he pushed his fringe back and his eyes met hers.
Even through her pain and shaking, Lydia managed to roll her eyes.
“Body heat,” she ground out through shivers, “Skin to skin contact. It’ll help us both warm up faster”.
Never one to argue with Lydia, Stiles simply nodded and lowered his hands to the hem of his shirt.
“Lydia, are you sure-“.
The girl let out a whimper as another tremor rocked through her. Her voice was hoarse and weak as she moaned, “Goddammit Stiles, please!”

Lie down with me, and hold me in your arms.

He didn’t question her again and he peeled his wet top off of his body; it fell to the floor with a heavy smack. His hands stalled at his belt buckle and he shivered from both the cold and nerves.
He gazed down at Lydia who had cocooned herself in his duvet. Her eyes were dull and hazy, her teeth chattering angrily against each other. With a sigh of resolution, he quickly undid his belt and jeans button, the dark denim falling quickly to the floor with the weight of the water.

He carefully slid into bed beside Lydia in only his boxers as she held the covers open for him with weak and shaking arms.
In an instant, she was by his side, her ice cold skin making him gasp and flinch.
“I’m sorry!” She mumbled.
“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Stiles soothed, “Come here”. He held his arms open for her and within seconds she was in them.

And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with a feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

Lydia moved without hesitation, practically climbing onto the boys lap and into his warm, open arms.
She intertwined their bare legs without a second though, skin on skin and achingly warm. She trembled still and Stiles held her tighter. With careful consideration, he placed one arm on her lower back, avoiding the band of her bra and he rubbed soothing circles into her skin. The other hand fell naturally on her hip, where he held tight, pulling her tiny, freezing body into his own - willing his warmth to transfer to her quickly.
They sat surround by pillow, blankets and each other in complete silence. The rain was the only sound as it continuously battered against the window.
“So, this is scientifically proven huh?” Stiles voice spoke softly into her hair.
Still too cold to exert too much energy, Lydia simply nodded against his chest.
“I should start paying more attention in class”.
Despite the situation, Lydia let out a breath of laughter and Stiles smiled. The girl shifted until her head face was pressed into his neck and he felt her lips pressed there - the coldness radiating off of them in waves. Her eyelashes tickled his skin and he could feel her heart match the beat of his own inside his chest.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes and both wondered over the fact that they felt minimal embarrassment despite their current predicament.
Their friendship didn’t call for them to see each other partially dressed - never mind wrapped up in each other in bed. Nevertheless, Stiles held Lydia with ease and she had no problem sighing contentedly into his chest. Stiles marvelled at Lydia’s skin - it’s was still so cold but it was amazingly soft and smooth. His hands went on a journey of their own over her waist and down her hips, round and across her arms and back. Eventually his fingers trailed lazily up and down her sides; to which Lydia only moved closer to. Her shivers had subsided and Stiles asked how she was feeling.
The girl shifted and looked up at him from her spot on his chest. She smiled tiredly and spoke with a hushed voice.
“I’m okay. I’m not as cold, you’re nice and warm”. To prove her point, she draped herself back across his body and wrapped her arms around him.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.

He pressed an innocent kiss to her now drying curls, before softly untangling the ends that lay splayed across her shoulders. Lydia smiled and in return, pressed a soft, cold kiss to his collarbone. She watched from under her eyelashes in fascination as his skin erupted in goosebumps.
Curious and probably still a little out of it, she placed another to his skin. And another, this time higher and on his shoulder. Next, she bravely placed her open lips onto his neck.
Stiles had stilled, dropping a lock of hair and was watching Lydia with surprised eyes.
She lifted her head and met his amazed expression with a small, shy smile.
“What you doing there, pretty girl?”

Settle down with me, and I’ll be your safety.
You’ll be my lady.

Lydia didn’t really have an answer for her actions, instead she continued to smile and simply shrugged - letting herself tumble back into the warmth he now radiated. She smiled warmly at his words and what he had called her - so used to normally hearing “hot” and the gentlemanly “nice ass babe”. His arms went back around her and minutes passed before his hands mapped out her skin once more.
This time, they travelled across the top of her thighs, warming each cold spot that had previously been neglected. Within seconds, Lydia was burning and she lay still - hardly breathing - as she let Stiles explore.
He never wandered too far, his rough plans remaining fairly chaste. As they slid along her hips and across the dip in her waist, Lydia became dangerously warm and eventually lifted her head to meet his gaze once more.

I was made to keep your body warm,
but I’m cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms.

The room was bathed in silence, even the rain had stopped it’s unrelenting roar. Moonlight flooded through the slightly open curtains and Lydia inhaled sharply at the molten chocolate eyes that started back at her. Her mouth parted involuntarily as Stiles ran his thumb ever so gently across her bottom lip. His touch left a trail of fire.
His voice was deep and hoarse as he said, “Your lips are better. They’re not blue anymore”. His eyes slowly surveyed her face, always watching for a sign that he had stepped too far, too much out of their friendship boundaries. He never did.
Lydia could only nod dumbly; she was now aware more than ever of her scantily clad body, Stiles’ own bare chest and the growing heat between her legs.
With careful movements, Stiles placed his large hands on each side of Lydia’s waist and he pulled her into him. With her now sitting between his legs, she was closer than ever and he could see the tiny freckles that were dusted across her cheeks.
Her wide eyes blinked at him curiously as he delicately tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He licked his lips and nerves were evident on his face.

Oh no.
My heart’s against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.
And with this feeling I’ll forget, I’m in love now.

“Lydia, can I kiss you?” His voice was broken and hushed, in fact, Lydia barely heard him.
At his words, the girls heart trembled and soared against her ribcage. No one had ever asked her that. No one ever asked, they expected. Her throat clenched at the silly tears that threatened to escape and she smiled a watery smile as she nodded.
Joy erupted on the boys face and Stiles took her face in his hands.
Moving closer, the tip of his nose brushed hers and her heart leapt once more. Stiles could feel her long lashes fan out across his cheeks and they shared a breath.

Kiss me like you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved, you wanna be loved.
This feels like falling in love, falling in love. We’re falling in love.

Their lips met softly and without any rush nor hesitation. Like their bodies, they fit together perfectly. Their kiss was gentle and delicate and achingly tender.
Stiles held Lydia like she was the most precious thing in the world and the girl was ready to burst at the sweetness of it all.
Instead, she moved as close as she could and wound her arms around his neck - sinking her fingers into his thick hair. He groaned at the contact and their kiss deepened, tongues meeting tongues and teeth nibbling at lips.
With heavy breaths and overheated bodies and minds - they eventually separated - staring at once another with hooded eyes and parted lips.
Catching his breath, Stiles ran a finger along her collarbone: “Feeling warmer?”
Struggling to speak, Lydia simply nodded and let herself fall into his arms again, delirious with emotions.
They lay together, wrapped up in one another all night. They shared body heat and more slow, burning kisses.
Eventually they fell asleep the way they had started their night, intertwined with each other.

I’m in love now.

So, it’s no joke that @alainaprana has inspired me to start sewing again since getting her commissions and since then I have made the collection of colourful plasters that I submitted already.

This is probably the biggest thing I have made from scratch and I am very happy with it. I mostly made this because I really liked the small painted bead that @dc-the-traveler made and thought “I could plushify that.”

Its 7inches tall from the bottom to the tip of the soul and is like a lil cushion. (based off this here image)

Thank you @furgemancs for inspiring my piece of felt craft I did here! it was fun to make.

(EDIT) tumblr squashed the pic, click it to see it properly.

In her own darkened cottage, Granny Weatherwax sat and watched the fire die. It was a grey-walled room, the colour that old plaster gets not so much from dirt as from age. There was not a thing in it that wasn’t useful, utilitarian, earned its keep. Every flat surface in Nanny Ogg’s cottage had been pressed into service as a holder for ornaments and potted plants. People gave Nanny Ogg things. Cheap fairground tat, Granny always called it. At least, in public. What she thought of it in the privacy of her own head, she never said. She rocked gently as the last ember winked out. It’s hard to contemplate, in the grey hours of the night, that probably the only reason people would come to your funeral would be to make sure you’re dead.
—  Terry Pratchett, “The Sea and Little Fishes”