Reference- Various minky swatches (UPDATED 15/5)I had to wait for fabric to dry so decided to photograph and label all the Chinese minky swatches. There are nearly 300 colours, so I do not take responsibility if there is an error in numbering. I have tried my best to label accurately.
This is short nap minky swatches (labelled as super soft velboa) from: https://www.aliexpress.com/store/group/Super-soft-velboa/1724559_508558038.html
There may be variation between the saturation due to my iphone camera, but it is as close as I can manage.
Individual colour palette images: http://sta.sh/21xksciq7plk
Since so many people can't get them atm, here's some photos of my shannon brand minky swatch set.
Colours may vary from monitor to monitor. Please be aware that they may not match the irl colours exactly (but it's at least a guide).
Use as a guide for ordering colours or to see if your OC's colours are available in
Player Two, Press StartIf I had any idea what I was in for when I signed the lease to my new apartment, I never would have done it. It wasn’t the apartment’s fault. It was a nice place, big windows, six individual rooms, two shared bathrooms, a kitchen, reasonable rent with all amenities including. The place itself was a dream come true. The problem was my roommate. She bent reality.
I first found out when we went grocery shopping together. She ignored the shelves and went straight to the check out.
“Hi,” she said. “I want three frozen pizzas, a tub of ice cream, two cans of pop and a roll of bandages if you have any.”
I watched, my reusable grocery bags clasped in my sweaty hands. I would never be able to shop here again. But instead of being kicked out, or ridiculed, the cashier simply smiled.
“Certainly.” He said and pulled the items out from under the till. I knew there wasn’t enough room for them to be there and they were still frozen. Bewildered, I
Passing in the NightIt was a quiet night on the ship. Night, of course, was subjective in space, but in order to keep the crew in a mentally comfortable position a day-night cycle had be introduced. Silas sat in the bridge watching the blinking lights on the consoles.
His continued wakefulness was mostly an exercise in over precaution. Once the course was set there was very little to do. They were not at war, piracy was limited to the systems far from their usual routes, and if anything were to happen, the ships sensors would pick it up just as fast as he would.
Still he didn’t mind, the quiet was nice after a day of hubbub and he had always found shutting down to be a lackluster experience. So Silas sat and watched the consoles and the stars. He’d always enjoyed the cosmos, the idea of an incomprehensible fastness that spun and twirled like a giant but fascinating clock.
He was contemplating new names for the sector’s constellations, when someone crept onto the bridge. Silas turned his
The ParableThe hologram display registered the time as thirteen hours into the day cycle. Silas ignored it. It was his hours off, lunch break. Though he didn’t eat, that’s what it was called. Had Silas belonged to a different time and place, he would have called it ‘me time’ but he was firm in his position in the space-time continuum so he called it nothing at all. Just because it didn’t have a name, didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to use it.
The small room was lit up by a big screen splashed across the far wall. He was playing Martian Homestead, a quiet game that, as the name suggested, was primarily about farming on Mars. He’d never been planet side before and so the game fascinated him. It was no where near close to real life but Silas wasn’t interested in a simulation, he was interested in a diversion. And diverted he was when the door to his cramped bunk cabin slid open.
“Not now,” said Silas, not bothering to check who it
A Slow DanceThe moon is getting further away, slowly trying to pull free of the forces that held him steady on his path for years uncounted. The moon, you see, has no concept of time, but still he feels it passing.
When at first he was flung from the bosom of his sister, he cried. He begged to be taken back, and the Earth, her sorrow deep in her bones, held onto him the only way she knew how. They fell together through space, locking into synchronous rotation, staring at each other through the darkness and willing the distance to close.
He watched as she flourished, and held tight to her waters for fear he might one day lose his grip. The impacts that scarred his back never fazed him. He would be strong and she was strong. The Earth in turn, watched as her brother waxed and waned, and the life that blossomed on her surface soon loved him as she loved him.
So they stayed, as the Earth turned and the moon turned with her. Locked in their dance, each knew the other as well as they knew themsel
The Moon RisesHe feels it come upon him, and in defense he slows his breathing, his fingers digging into the counter in the kitchen. Nex to him, Frank can smell the chef, her sweat mingling with the kitchen spices.
“Get out.” He tells her, his voice a low growl. Soon the moon will be rising and he doesn’t want to hurt her. She needs to leave. She needs to leave.
Her pulse doesn’t speed up, in fact she doesn’t budge from the skillet except to tip a chopped onion into the pan. Her lack of movement frustrates him. She’s only worked here a week she couldn’t know the danger. He tenses, drawing a breath to raise his voice, a necessary evil.
Before the words leave his mouth, she smacks him with a rolled up newspaper she pulled from her back order up and stop being dramatic, you’ve got time yet.”
His vision clears and he blinks slowly, the kitchen counter swimming into focus. The hair on his arms still stands upright, but his shoulders relax and t
Oracle of the ApocolypseThe zombies didn’t bother Claire after the first few months. It was true they made life difficult, but they weren’t hard to avoid once you had some experience. All you needed, Claire found, was a decent set of roller-skates and a good knowledge of the area. Though the cities were full of the undead they were still, more or less, thriving communities. Rooftop gardens and community cisterns, ladders into barricaded apartment stairwells and nightly patrols. It all worked fairly well.
If anything, Claire found the zombies annoying. They didn’t just moan and shamble, they talked sometimes too. Usually babble but every so often they would mutter old bits of news or snatches of song lyrics. It was like someone’s bad idea of a joke.
She made her way through the empty streets, careful to avoid broken bits of pavement and mud puddles. The straps of her bag weighed heavily on her shoulders. She’d found a convince store that hadn’t yet been raided in the depths