#twelve nights

[splinteredsoul]

Twelve Nights (2000)

dir. Oi Wah Lam

#twelve nights #十二夜 #cecilia cheung #eason chan #hong kong cinema #asian cinema #2000s #00s #00s film #film aesthetic #films #film stills #film caps #film screencaps #cinema #movies #movie caps #movie screencaps #cinephile #female filmmaker

[blarrghe]

Time for the annual Twelve Nights update. I almost didn't write this but then I did. It's uh,, 1:00 am just after Christmas so close enough.

Twelve Nights is the gay holiday Hallmark fic that you deserve. This is a big ol' sappy satinalia sequel. Rated E for Extremely soft blowjobs. To all a good night! --

Snow was falling in large, fluffy flakes, adding to the white of Deshanna’s yard that glittered in the glow of dangling white holiday lights across the edge of the old house’s pointed roof. Smoke rose from the chimney, and even from halfway up the long driveway Taren could smell the familiar scent of woodsmoke on the crisp air. 

They pulled Bee up on a sled, alternating turns as she laughed and cheered and occasionally swept up a handful of snow that had to be (unsuccessfully) scolded away from her mouth. She was in charge of guarding the presents, and so far doing a very good job.

“Still have them all, da’len?” Taren slowed a few steps to walk beside the sled as Dorian pulled, looking down at the well insulated bundle of a five-year-old dwarf girl cradling several large, colourfully wrapped presents in her lap. 

“Thing’s heavy enough,” Dorian returned from in front, barely believably grumpy about it. 

“Yep!” cried Bracha, grinning. 

Taren felt himself grinning back, warmth spreading through his cheeks even in the cold. He leaned over to scoop his daughter up into his arms. 

“Light enough now?” 

Dorian harrumphed, still unconvincingly, and dragged the sled the rest of the way over to the porch steps. “Still don’t see why we couldn’t drive.” 

“It’s a lovely evening for a walk,” Taren bantered back, hopping up the steps, babe-in-arms, and adjusting his hold on the child to just one arm in order to knock. 

“It’s a bloody cold evening for a walk.” 

“It’s just up the road.” 

“Up the road — key word.” 

Dorian was still struggling to manoeuvre all the gifts from the sled and up the steps when the door opened, revealing a warm golden glow of light and the tall, grey-haired figure of Deshanna "Auntie Dee" Lavellan. She smiled warmly, a bright gleam still in her eye even as her mouth pulled back against the wrinkled skin and faded tattoos over her cheeks.

“Auntie!” Bracha squealed, wriggling in his arms before Taren let her down. Then she was jumping into the woman with a hug to her legs that stumbled her backwards with a laugh, and then she was hopping down the steps again to help her father unload the sled, shouting “lo Satinalia! We brought presents!” 

Auntie Dee embraced Taren in one of her very secure hugs and left a firm kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside. Then she did the same to Dorian, once he and their daughter had managed to bring the last of the gifts up. Taren hung his coat and knelt to help Bracha out of her snowpants and boots. Dorian rubbed his hands together and aggressively stomped the snow off his feet. He still played at grumpy complains, muttering and grumbling, his cheeks reddened with the cold. 

Within moments, however, they were all well and warm again, seated in Auntie Dee’s living room by a roaring fire and a tall pine tree hung with tinsel and lights and too many ornaments. Bracha tore into presents, Auntie Dee filled Dorian’s cup with mulled wine, and Taren relaxed into the couch beside him. 

The scent of food cooking in the kitchen filled the whole house. After his own mug of mulled wine had been drained, an oven timer began to beep, and Auntie Dee sprang up to attend to things. Taren followed, leaving Dorian to pull Bee into his lap, examining her new toys together with inquisitive eyes and fiddling fingers. He set plates at the table, got himself shooed away from tasting things, helped to fill serving dishes and carve meats and finally popped out again to beckon his husband and daughter over to the table. 

Bracha bounded over, hopping up to her own spot at the table and waiting eagerly for the rest of them. Auntie Dee set to serving her ahead, spoiling her with heaping portions and settling in across from her with a story at the ready. Dorian followed more slowly, not just an adult with an adult’s reasonable pace across a living room, but with distant eyes and a thoughtful smile as he took in the tree, the pictures on the wall, the beaded decorations in the windows, and finally, Taren. 

“Amatus,” he muttered softly, coming close and smiling into a kiss at Taren’s temple. 

Taren tucked an arm around his waist and pulled him along, returning a kiss to his cheek. He smelled of new aftershave and his skin was warm against Taren’s lips, his sweater soft under his hand. 

They ate, filling up on too many courses and too many rounds of stories and sweet mulled wine. Bracha bounced up from the table to play with new toys and returned again for more helpings of pie at least three times, then she nearly fell asleep face-first into one of them. Taren laughed, tipsy now on his wine, and Dorian rose from the table to scoop her out of her chair. Taren followed him down the hall, looking wistfully himself now at familiar walls covered in familiar pictures. 

They set her down in his old room. The walls were different, decorated now in new art instead of his old drawings and posters — though some of it was still his. The bed was different, set tidy for guests instead of strewn with his unmade sheets. The desk was new, the dresser filled with spare linens and summer clothes. But it was still his room, still the same place — sometimes the only place — that had felt safe and quiet when he’d been growing up. 

He hadn’t been much older than her, he thought, touching on bittersweet memory, when he’d first slept here. 

He watched from the doorway as Dorian toppled the little girl into the bed and tucked blankets around her. His heart melted in wine-drunk sentimentality, and just the very true joy of it, as he watched that tall, serious man bend a kiss to her sleeping brow. 

He took a breath and cleared his face as well as he could of his welling tears when Dorian turned to look up at him, and stepped into the room. 

“Goodnight, Bee,” he whispered, brushing back a thick fringe of tight brown curls to kiss the sleeping girl’s forehead himself, and ruffling it all a little extra as he left the bedside. 

Dorian’s hand rubbed a circle against his shoulder behind him, and then he caught him in a close hold as he rose up again. His hand came up to round over Taren’s cheek, then to pull his face close by the chin. They met in a long kiss, sweet wine and deep feeling between their lips. 

It was hours still before the fire in the living room burned down and the stories ran out. Auntie Dee told several embarrassing ones, while Taren shook his head with laughter and Dorian leaned in. She got them blankets from a cupboard as the clock passed midnight. Taren remembered how to roll the couch out into a bed, and he helped to set the living room while Dorian helped to tidy the kitchen. Then Auntie Dee took her yawning leave down the hall, and there they were, left alone with the glowing embers of the woodfire and the dim twinkling lights around the tree. 

Taren sat on the creaky old couch bed, taking it all in. Dorian came slowly to a creaking seat beside him, and for several quiet moments just held his hand. He turned a soft kiss into the side of Taren’s neck, now smelling of the aftershave and the wine on his lips, still soft and warm. The kisses trailed up until they nibbled at the lobe of his ear. Taren laughed, tickled, and turned into him. 

The whole house was so still and quiet. Soft snow continued to fall outside in the dark beyond the windows, while inside the warm air smelled of pine and cooked berries. Quiet and peaceful and perfect, though their every movement sent the bed into creaks and sharp whines.

Taren rose and slipped from his sweater, a heavy holiday knit that Dorian especially liked to poke fun at — and was already tugging playfully up from his waist. Dorian did the same, catching him skin-to-skin in another long kiss before he could slip out of anything else. 

“Vhenan,” he whispered, feeling the prickle of his moustache on his lips and then just his mouth again, digging in hard and full. He pushed his hands up against Dorian’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and rubbing down over the hair and muscle and belly of him, gripping fingers down around his sides and bringing him in again. 

He felt right, still. Always. Felt like strength and comfort and home, like a gentle tug of magic on all his too-sentimental heartstrings. Like love, always like love. 

“Amatus,” Dorian said, agreeing with his every sentiment. 

Dorian’s hands slid down, around his back with a playful grab to his ass and then to the waistband of his pants. He pulled them down and backed Taren up with an urgent knee between his legs and a press of his own hips. Taren backed up against the fold-out bed, and it creaked. 

“Careful,” he whispered, practically giggling, like he wasn’t an old man with a family but some teenager with a boy over, still living in Auntie Dee’s house. “Don’t make too much noise.” 

Dorian grinned and bit a feistier kiss into his lips. “You don’t make too much noise,” he challenged, as he pushed Taren down into a slow seat on the edge of the bed and pulled away his pants and the shorts beneath entirely. 

He slid to his knees next, quiet as promised, dragging kisses down Taren’s chest and then his thighs. He sucked spots against his hip bones and into the inner flesh of his thigh, hard enough to make Taren lean his head back and swallow a gasp. 

Taren dug fingers into his hair, pressing against the scalp and letting the soft black locks run through his fingers. Dorian left softer kisses, tempting and teasing closer as he handled Taren’s already rigid cock with teasing care. Taren pulled his face back, leaned forward despite the telltale creaking of the bed, and captured his lips in another long kiss. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

Dorian’s eyes glinted in the ambient light, his smile creased up to their corners. “I know,” he murmured back, “my sweet amatus, I know.” 

It was everything Taren could do not to rock and pulse and grind his hips against Dorian’s mouth in a noisy frenzy of old bed springs and moaned appreciation. He pushed Dorian's head in with his hands and held onto his gasps, letting out light, quick breaths and tensing all over as Dorian’s mouth and hands found his cock.

He felt so godsdamned good. Always had, and only better all the time. His wet mouth and tight hands pulled everything out of him, brought him to the shuddering edge of tension and relief like it was a trick he’d been practicing for years — because he had. Taren stood to finally come, bending his knees and struggling to manage a thrust that didn’t knock his husband right over onto his ass, but managing it. His hand in his hair, another on his shoulder, and then pulling him straight up and into tight, breathless kisses of praise and thanks. 

Taren’s hands slid down, returning the favour of pushing off trousers and wasting no time in finding Dorian’s hard cock between his legs. He pulled at him gently, kissed him tightly, and finally pulled him back and close to him while he slowly made his way back to his careful seat on the bed.

He took less time in working up any teasing gentleness with his kisses or the strokes of his tongue, needed less time. Dorian pressed firm and full against him and did a considerably worse job of stifling his groan as Taren took him in his mouth. His hands gripped harder at his hair, and Taren returned the force of that grip with his own hands over Dorian’s firm ass. He didn’t play with him so much as he fucked him, and helped him fuck back, moving into his mouth with urgency as Taren still managed not to move so much as to set the bedsprings rhythmically creaking.

He loved the frantic need of it, the hard, heavy push of his length up into his mouth and at times all the way into the back of his throat. He moved his hands to help with friction and speed, let Dorian pull his hair back and his face up and grinned at him for a flash while Dorian looked down in blushing, slightly dishevelled wonder. Taren caught his orgasm over the flat of his tongue and wrapped his lips around him to slowly take it all in one last time, sucking and swallowing and coming away with half a stifled laugh and wipe of his lips. 

“Maker,” he heard Dorian breathe as he stepped back. 

They returned to undergarments, took hushed turns tiptoeing down the hall to the bathroom to wash, and finally rolled into the slightly lumpy bed together, arms clinging tight. 

Taren settled his head over Dorian’s chest, curled on his side, his arm wrapped over him while Dorian lay on his back with his own over Taren’s shoulder and back. He closed his eyes and kissed his chest, sleepy with wine and affection and all the warmth and quiet in the world. 

“Thank you,” Dorian whispered as his thumb stroked an idle line over his shoulderblade. 

“For?” 

“All of it.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, agreeing with the sentiment. 

“I love you. I love our family and our life.” Dorian’s arm around him pulled tighter. 

“I know, ma vhenan,” Taren kissed his warm skin again, “I know.”

#I may add this to the ao3 fic later but I'll have to change the rating lol #twelve nights #my fic #my writing #pavellan #dorian pavus x lavellan #dorian pavus #taren lavellan #modern au #hallmark au #gay holiday romps #they have a family and they're very happy kthnks

[coloursofunison]

I'm excited to welcome Penny Ingham and her novel, Twelve Nights, to the blog #HistoricalMystery #MurderMystery #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I'm excited to welcome Penny Ingham and her novel, Twelve Nights, to the blog #HistoricalMystery #MurderMystery #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @pennyingham @cathiedunn @penny.ingham @thecoffeepotbookclub @cathiedunn

I’m excited to welcome Penny Ingham and her novel, Twelve Nights, to the blog. I adored this book. Check out the excerpt below, and you can find my review at the bottom of the post. Excerpt Magdalen was beginning to wish she had crept back to Silver Street. Her world had turned upside down and she had no idea how to set it right again. She put her head in her hands, and her obvious distress…

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#Amazon #Blog Tour #book review #historical fiction #Penny Ingham #The Coffee Pot Book Club #Twelve Nights

[neoyan]

#图集 #十二夜 #张柏芝 #twelve nights #Shap yee yeh #Cecilia Cheung #twelve night 2000

[drama-kpop-quotes]

Drama: Twelve Nights (2018) Genere: Romantico, Vita, Melodramma Paese: Corea del Sud Episodi: 12 Rete Originale: Channel A, Viki Durata: 1 hr. 15 min.

"Voglio solo che tu ci sia per me".

#kdrama #twelve nights #Shin Hyun Soo #Han Seung Yeon

[spoopdeedoop]

mk and mei sleepover (gone wrong)

#my art #it is twelve at night rn and this video looks like okay brightness in the dark of my room so?? #i hope you guys can see it #lmk #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk fanart #goldendragon #jackfruit duo #lmk mei #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #long xiaojiao #ive had this audio for ages im glad i finally got around to using it lmao

[bookstagramofmine]

Giveaway: Twelve Nights by Penny Ingham

Giveaway: Twelve Nights by Penny Ingham @rararesources @pennyingham #TwelveNights #PennyIngham #BookReview #BookTour #Giveaway #BookBlog #BookTwt

Book Tour organised by Rachel’s Random Resources! Happy Saturday everyone! If you’re into historical thrillers and William Shakespeare, I have just the book for you! Thanks to Rachel, I’ve just finished Twelve Nights by Penny Ingham! Twelve Nights is a work of historical fiction set in Elizabethan times. The book first came out on the 6th of May and was published by Nerthus. It’s the first…

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#book review #book tour #fiction #historical fiction #kindle unlimited #mystery #Nerthus #penny Ingham #Rachel&039;s Random Resources #twelve nights

[doortotomorrow]

WHOUFFALDI : time heist

#Doctor Who #Twelfth Doctor #Clara Oswald #Whouffaldi #dwedit #doctorwhoedit #a late night upload before I go to sleep #and one featuring two characters that I miss very much #I wish Twelve and Clara were coming back for the big 60th anniversary #even if it's just for a 30 second cameo

[12u3ie]

“grian never left the desert” “scar never left the desert” PIXLRIFFS NEVER LEFT THE DESERT DO YOU HEAR ME

#caps tw #this one goes out to darubyprincx #cause I’ve never watched Pixl’s empires s1 #and yet I’m intrigued by his guy #twelves rambles #pixlriffs #cause like. he could leave his home. he could leave his empire. #but he could never leave the desert. #the sand keeps on going. #he know he’s going west and he should see other lands at some point #but every night he sees the sun set on the sands #DO YOU HEAR ME

[isbergillustration]

DOWN

#sketchbook #acrylic painting #painting #colour pencil #eldritch angel #i forget to give them their wings a lot #because there's twelve wings with #when i chose #a decent amount of lineart #couldn't be bothered here as you see #it is late. i just woke up. and i am going to spend an hour or two watching a pretty man do sexy gun violence. good night #illustration #artists on tumblr #my art #this one looks particularly awkward in a way i enjoy #they are mysterious seemingly all powerful transdimentional beings but because they are written by me they also have social anxiety

[thefiresofpompeii]

the main mistake that people who dislike s8 and put it low in their series rankings make is the belief that, like any other series (apart from s9), it’s a collection of standalone stories tied together by some vague throughline i.e. missy’s ‘heaven’. “oh, this episode’s mid, that episode’s bad” meanwhile it’s not about individual episodes at all. i firmly believe that it should be viewed as a singular long serial.

so grateful that i was extremely late to the party and binged it all in a week instead of watching every episode as they were airing, because sometimes the plots barely matter at all. do you remember what the skovox blitzer actually looks like or what it wanted with coal hill in the first place? hardly. i had to google its name. but what you do remember from the caretaker is twelve acting like an antagonistic prick towards danny, and that’s what matters. almost every villainous entity is some kind of soldier, the contempt twelve shows to everybody but clara becomes the source of their toxicity… in the forest of the night is pretty obviously rubbish scifi, but it demonstrates danny’s fundamental incompatibility with clara, as well as the scene in which clara is ready to sacrifice herself and her students for the doctor’s sake, foreshadowing their reckless, almost suicidal codependency.

point is, but it really does work best as a tightly woven tapestry. sure, some episodes succeed individually, but most of the individual plots are mildly exciting only in a ‘this is fun to watch for kids’ way… UNLESS you approach them from the overarching perspective. i.e. mummy on the orient express has wonderful style, a thrilling mystery, creative concepts and interesting side characters, but its story appeal hinges on the twelveclara failed breakup. listen is frightening enough, but its entire story appeal hinges on just how much clara affects the doctor’s values past and present, and whether or not she has a future with danny (she doesn’t).

what i’m saying is, the narrative in s8 is a non-negotiable package deal. buy one, get them all. and it has no skips. i hate the idiotic pro-life message in kill the moon as much as the next sensible person, but what the episode does well is really hammer home how much of a sanctimonious asshole twelve initially is, which is crucial to his future character evolution.

tldr; the correct way to watch series 8 is all in one go. series 8 is great. more love for series 8

#oops! it’s another pointless doctor who rant nobody will read. just kidding please read it #i vow to speak the truth and nothing but the truth #oh boy the tags. too many tags #dw #doctor who #doctor who meta #doctor who analysis #doctor who series 8 #peter capaldi #twelve #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #jenna coleman #danny pink #the caretaker #in the forest of the night #mummy on the orient express #kill the moon #flatline #doctor who s8 #steven moffat #pro moffat #jamie catches up #jamie.txt

[blarrghe]

Ooooh. For the ask game: The idea that got you to All Hail West Thedas or Twelve Nights?

funny you should pick those! Both of those fics were planned out in more or less one go, so it's a little harder to say which scene was their raison d'etre.

For Twelve Nights, I spontaneously wrote out the plot of a stereotypical Hallmark movie (only make it Pavellan) on my phone one day on a whim. It was very brief and silly, but I think it was the stereotypical "turning point" of that kind of film that hooked me into actually writing it. You know, the "BusinessMan McMoneybanks' business is a threat to LocalArtsit OutdoorsyGuy's small community!" of it all. The scene that really solidified first, and had the fullest pre-planned notes (literally the entire conversation word for word was written in my notes app I just had to fill in the scenery), was this one:

“I don’t want your help,” he said, and as he said it Dorian’s face fell into a frown, and another one of Taren’s agitated thoughts settled into place, “or your money.”

But Dorian kept his arm, and kept his eyes in their uneasy connection with his own; grey storm clouds of fear and longing pulling his heart into faster beats.

“Taren, please.”

He snapped his own eyes away, pulled back his arm with deliberate purpose. “What?” 

Dorian looked at first like he had a whole speech to give, but then he swallowed, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down before he opened his mouth, and all that came forth was a hoarse, quiet stutter. “I — I’m sorry.” 

Taren sighed, a vice around his heart, and whether it was because he was too tired to think or too full of thoughts to be reserved, it wasn’t clear, but he opened his mouth and out they came: the words to begin a conversation he wasn’t at all ready to have. 

“I care about you, Dorian.” His voice came out now with a sudden clarity, and from there it was really all over. He’d be honest, and he’d say everything, whether it was wise to or not. Dorian flinched with the confession, and Taren tried to keep from watching what was sure to be a trembling avalanche of guilt again in his eyes. “You might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met. You’re charming, you’re impossibly smart, and passionate, and I” — he shook his head — “I like you.” The word sounded juvenile and insufficient for what he felt: impossibly connected; fate-twined and breathless. His face full of smiles he couldn’t help every time Dorian’s glance fell on him, besieged by the knowledge that he’d risk his stupid heart over him from the moment he’d complained his way into his life. Like one of a pair of blushing pilgrims, and in the wrong play; "too much, probably.” he said.

Dorian reached for his arm again, and this time he didn’t draw back.

“But you’re so obviously unhappy, uncomfortable in whatever life it is that you have, and I think you deserve better.” Taren risked a glance up into his eyes, and found them quivering, a glint of distress mixed with that heady pull of want, “I believe that you're sorry, that you mean well, I just wish you had told me.” 

And that was that: all he had to say. He watched Dorian register the words and sigh, shaking his head as he took a turn now in tearing his eyes away. 

“I can't have better.” Dorian breathed bitterly, “I didn't tell you because, I don't know, because you’re right. I hate this life, and I hate that everything in it is about my father and his company. Even if fighting from the inside is the best thing I could do with my life, it somehow never feels like it. And I have such a history of just being that poor little rich boy, but…” It was more from him than Taren had expected to hear. He watched Dorian take a deep breath, and whether it was due to that pull on his heart or Dorian’s grip on his arm he couldn’t say, but he stepped closer. “With you I'm not. I'm just me, and you're so real and I've never had anything like this and I just wanted it to be mine.” Dorian continued, so close to him that Taren could fall, if he let himself, just collapse right there into the dark sea of longing waiting for him in Dorian’s eyes. “For just — fuck — for just twelve fucking nights.” 

Dorian took another deep breath, and then both of them fell — and it was still unclear who had the pull on who —  into a long, deep kiss. It filled him; shook his soul and cleared his mind and warmed up every ache left by the fight in the snow and the night on a cold bench in a cell. He closed his eyes and sank into it, Dorian’s hands firm at his sides the only thing keeping him standing. It felt like it might never end, like he might just keep falling into him forever.

But it did, and he pulled back and looked once again into Dorian’s lonely eyes, and then away. “I’m not your fantasy, Dorian.” He whispered. Twelve fucking nights, he’d said. Just something to have for the sake of having had it, a taste of freedom to remind him that somewhere in the world, things were still real. “I don’t want that.” 

(sorry that was long, I was gonna format it somehow but tumblr sucks)

For AHWT, similar thing. I had a couple conversations with @gaysolavellan where we came up with some hilarious ideas and then I basically plotted the whole thing out point-form in one go. The things I really wanted to include and looked forward to writing most were 1) All of the Satinalia chapter, especially Dorian Finding Out, and 2) Ehsaan feeds a baby goat.

#twelve nights #the chapter was twelve fucking nights and it was very exciting to get there #thanks for asking!

[coloursofunison]

Today, I'm delighted to welcome Penny Ingham to the blog with a fab post about her new book, a giveaway and my review #blogtour #histfic #highlyrecommended

Today, I'm delighted to welcome Penny Ingham to the blog with a fab post about her new book, a giveaway and my review #blogtour #histfic #highlyrecommended @pennyingham @rararesources

I’m delighted to share with you an excerpt and my review for Penny Ingham’s new novel, Twelve Nights, set in the theatres of late Tudor London. Please read all the way to the end because there’s a lot going on in this blog post:) Here’s the blurb: The Theatre London, 1592 When a player is murdered, suspicion falls on the wardrobe mistress, Magdalen Bisset, because everyone knows poison is a…

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#Amazon #Blog Tour #book review #historical fiction #history #New Release #Penny Ingham #Twelve Nights

[doccywhomst]

just thought “fourteen first female doctor” then was like no…. wrong. you’re forgetting abt twelve <- disease wrong with my brain

#thirteen was like three agender kids in a trenchcoat #meanwhile fourteen and donna have matching tramp stamps and cocktails at karaoke girls night #and twelve is just joan jett reincarnated idc #doctor who

[leverage-ot3]

hozier starting to sing take me to church and then unfurling a pride flag healed something in me actually

if you listen closely you can hear me yell ‘oh my god’ when he does it

#(don’t listen too closely though I’m a bad singer lol) #I tried to post this Sunday night but it didn’t go through #I had no idea he was going to do it I almost cried #not leverage #hozier #slept at our airbnb for like 4 hours #woke up for an hour until Cumbies would be open so I could get breakfast (5am) #and then drove over 2.5 hours to get back home in time to get prepared for work #I ended up teaching my two hour group and then working till twelve and taking the rest of the day off #I forgot my meds so I slept ten hours until 10 at night 💀 #worth it #seeing him was a spiritual experience fr #and this was like SO spontaneous. like I cannot express enough how much I didn’t plan for this #also I literally got my tickets saturday when the show was sunday. thank u stubhub ur a true mvp #I knew my friends were going and were staying overnight and someone in my facebook group was selling tickets last minute and was like 👀👀👀 #I’m not gonna go into how she decided to sell to someone else later that day when I had already made plans and made me cry but whatever #it worked out in the end

[melannen]

Dracula cross-stitch sampler pattern

Since I've had time on vacation, I finished up a cross-stitch pattern I started a year ago in the first Dracula Daily round, based on the words Dracula uses to greet Jonathan Harker when he comes to the castle: "Welcome to my house. Come freely, go safely, and leave some of the happiness you bring".

I wanted a sampler for my front hall, but all the patterns I could find were very Hot Topic Goth. Nothing wrong with that, but my goth aesthetic is more "creepy thing found behind the wall in an old attic", and I wanted a pattern that my aunt wouldn't realize was anything out of the ordinary. I was looking around for inspiration and stumbled on an 1871 sampler by 12-year-old Jemima Clements in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. It's a little bit early for Dracula but the aesthetic was spot on, so I spent a long time squinting at a zoom of the best download of it they had to copy the wolves and the letters, and then left it for almost a year because I got frustrated trying to figure out how to get a good-formatted pattern out.

When we came up on a year I transcended frustrated and went with the good-old fashioned grandma method and transferred my pixels to a spreadsheet. So on the off chance you want a creepy Dracula sampler for your front hall, I now have it in .pdf and a downloadable Google Sheet. The .pdf is formatted to print on legal paper, but it will be a bit small that way; you are welcome to fiddle with the spreadsheets to get it the size you want.

PDF of the pattern of the Dracula quote ^this will not work if your browser redirects to https because my webhost messed that up, but it should work if you force http

Google Drive link to a shareable/downloadable Sheets file

The pattern uses 7-10 different thread colors; I don't believe in locking in brand-name floss, so the pattern includes color description and it's up to you to find stuff in your stash that looks good together.

I could not come up with a decision on the border, so the options are:

Make all the flowers plain lavender

Use a variegated purple for the flowers

Pick 4-6 different shades of lavender/light purple and alternate them - this is most similar to Jemima's border

Use the "allium flower" pixel art pattern I coded into the pattern (recommended only if you recognized the allium flower pixel art pattern I used.)

#dracula daily #dracula #cross stitch #cross-stitch #sampler #embroidery #pattern #welcome to my house #come freely #go safely #and leave some of the happiness you bring #don't recommend putting this on the front door since the caveats on the welcome are pretty vague #wolves #the children of the night #not the music the original sampler meant #(probably but never underestimate the creepiness of twelve year old girls) #(I don't know why else you'd do howling wolves for a prayer about music)