#Loop Tie Wire

[anpingdongmingwiremesh]

Loop Tie Wire

Anping Dongming Wiremesh Co.,Ltd offers high-quality loop tie wire, a flexible way to secure and fasten things in crops and building applications. Our loop tie wire, which is made of strong components, provides consistent and strong connections. Loop tie wire is a perfect option for securing fencing or bundling rebars.

Phone No. +86-15131872040

Email: sales@wiremeshdm.com

Address: Industrial Park, Anping, Hebei, China 053600

[fancy0609]

[brain-usurped-by-bug]

Sugar and Smoke

King Candy takes advantage of the luxuries of his new life, while still longing for the simple pleasures of his old.

Characters: King Candy/Turbo, Sour Bill, Turbo Twins (mentioned)

Tags: Smoking, bubble bath, eating lots of sweets, angst

Completed on September 15th, 2024. 1476 words.

...

The new skin felt strange. It was softer than he was used to, higher definition. The flesh was unscared, the eyes bright, the cheeks jolly. The cadaverous pallor, the sunken eyes, the body he had carried his entire life was gone, phased out, banished into electric aether.

It wasn’t what he had before. He could smile again, but it wasn’t the same smile. He had a car again, but it wasn’t his red rocket. He didn’t have the simple pleasures of his home world; the gentle wave of the pixelated green grass, the earthy scent of the simple dirt loop, the reliable company of the twin racers…

Whatever. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need any of it. It was old software; untextured, primitive. The players had outgrown it, he had outgrown it. It didn’t deserve him. What he deserved was this! A castle, hundreds of subjects hanging off his every word, glitter graphics, high definition, a spotlight, a crown! It was the least fate could repay him for his suffering, rotting unknown in crawl spaces for ten years.

His honey brown eyes bounded over the walls of his new domain, cataloged it, let his mouth water. Pink cookie walls, rainbow sugar glass, sparkling white icing. It had been a long, long time since he’d had a taste of something sweet. 

At the urging of his tongue he dove in, flew through his castle, eager to see every room, sample every flavor. Devour it, all of it, literally and metaphorically. It was his, all of it, all of it! 

He admired the paintings of ice cream landscapes, chewed the corners off the nightstand in the cheesecake guest room, let the swirl of the lollipops hypnotize him, Let chocolate doorknobs melt in his mouth, ran his palms up the twisting licorice banister, broke peppermint decorations off the walls and sucked them to points. 

He was in the middle of licking the icing off a gingerbread headboard when he caught the movement of a stranger behind him. He leapt off the bed and hurried to make himself presentable. The stranger stared back, licking his lips, adjusting the cuffs of his purple suit. The stranger had that look on his face, the look of being caught in the act. 

He approached, cautiously. The stranger approached, cautiously. They lifted their hands, fingers meeting on the mirror’s glass. The strange reflection turned its head, ran it’s peach fingers over the wisps of gray hair above its ears, squished the soft cheek, pulled at the corner of the lip, ran a red tongue over white teeth. It stood back a bit, dusted itself off. The reflection wore a purple tailcoat, gold puff pants, caramel leggings, a lace collar, a gold crown and a shimmering red candy wrapper bow tie. 

Not a single color carried over, no textures, not a sliver of his old face. This was good. It was. No one would ever recognise him. Even he didn't recognise him. He left the room. The stranger moved to follow, then vanished as he shut the door.

…

His room…. His room…. Ooh… he couldn't make a decision on it. It was different. Very different from what he was accustomed to. There was a rug, a clean one. Gingerbread armoires, rock candy lamps, footstools, a fainting couch, a make-up desk, wallpaper, a four poster bed with satin curtains! All white and pink. There was no black plastic, no exposed wires, no oil, no rubber, no concrete, no trophy shelf. Just sugar. 

He wanted to fix it. Bring in the scent of tools and grease, rust, motor oil and gasoline, antifreeze, real dirt, real grime. Was there anything real in this world? 

He reached for the pocket of his jumpsuit. His fingers grazed gold silk. He chuckled nervously and moved a hand to the new pocket within the interior breast of his tailcoat. He removed the contents and laid them on the bed. His last cigarette. A nondescript lighter. The password to the code room written on the corner of a Tapper’s napkin. These three things were the only possessions he had deemed essential enough to take with him. His homemade beer bottle string lights, portable radio, cassette tapes, checkered flag pillow, the steering wheel of his old car, all had to be left in the bowls of GCS. They were too big. Too tied to his old name. They were useless anyway, he didn't need old junk dragging him down. 

He took the cigarette between his teeth, lit the end, and let the smoke ease his rattled code. Tabaco lifted his insides, wafted from his lips, overpowered the smell of sugar. He breathed, out and in, tapped the ash off and kicked it under the bed. His softened gaze fell on the door to the bathroom. His personal, private bathroom. A luxury the greatest racer ever had yet to experience. A smile pinched the corners of his mouth. He slipped his possessions back into his tailcoat and locked himself in the new room.

The bathroom was pink and white, same as the bedroom, but it had more of the later color than the former. The floor was tiled with sugar cubes and the windows were made from frosted sugar glass, but the pink clawfoot tub was remarkably normal looking. Finally. He turned the wheel atop the gold faucet and watched crystal water flow. He frowned. This wasn't some strange candy water was it? He wasn't going to bathe in soda. He parked his cigarette between his first two fingers and leaned over the edge of the tub for a taste. Alright, it was just sparkling water. He could deal with that. He put the cigarette back between his lips, tossed in a bit of soap that promised a perfect bubble bath and stood aside to remove his clothes. 

He found something to recognise once his model was striped to its base. The skin may be different, but he still had the same bones, the same basic shape. The oversized head, short limbs, long feet, pudgy belly. He shifted the cigarette from the right corner of his mouth to the left and stuck a familiar pose; chest lifted, right hand gripping a (nonexistent) trophy, left hand giving the thumbs up.

‘Turbotastic!’

He almost said, catching the phrase before it left his mouth. His arms fell to his sides. The cigarette drooped on his lip. 

Careful, careful. You can’t keep anything from your old life. It’s gone. You're not getting any of it back. You're above it anyway, you've grown beyond. Throw off the old rags. 

He breathed smoke from his nose, shaking his head and muttering nonsense. He tapped cigarette ash into the sink, turned the faucet off and eased into his bubble bath. The soap’s label had been honest, some of the bubbles were nearly the size of his head. It was probably scented like something sweet, but he couldn't smell it through the tobacco. The water was what he expected; warm, fresh. Cleaner than him, almost certainly. 

He lay back. Soaking. Smoking his cigarette down to its filter. He started to hum to himself. 

“Hmm… hm hm hm hm, hm hm hm hm, hm hm h-”

The trumpets of the Turbotime overture played between his ears. The cheer of the plywood crowd. The way his fingers gripped the wheel, the way he’d turn it at the south bend, the dust he’d kick up, the way the twins would curse him when it got in their mouths, the way he’d laugh. They would beat him up after the race sometimes, when he t-boned them or made them spin out, but they always forgave him in time. If they had lived, would they have forgiven him for-

No, no no no stop stop STOP. He had to stop thinking about it, it had to disappear, he had to forget. He needed a distraction. He should have brought his casetes, more cigarettes. He threw a bar of soap at the service button beside the door. He missed, badly. He threw a larger bar and hit it this time. A dreary voice crackled over the intercom. 

“King Candy?”

“Sour Bill! I need music brought to my bathroom!”

A long pause. “Like… a band?” 

“No no! A radio, a walkman, something along those lines!” 

“Mmmm… we have a record player.” 

“That will do. Bring it in.”

“Yes sir. What kind of music do you want?”

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anything, something… something energetic. I need cheering up.” 

“Yes sir. Is there anything else you need?”

He took a final drag, kept the smoke in his body as long as he dared, then let it escape. A ghostly tower, part of his soul fading into the air. He sighed. 

“No, that will be all.”

End

Author's notes: this was my first time writing fanfiction since like, 2019. It was fun to write something short and in a very different setting than what I normally write in. :)

[skygoldart]

ETHO S10 COSPLAY

It’s mostly done so here’s the progress

The design:

I created this design using the fandom headcannon that Etho is a fox hybrid and combined that with the Japanese themes this season to make a kitsune hybrid, putting the red accents into the white fur.

The vest

I patterned the vest using plastic wrap and duct tape and then made a mock-up with an old curtain I had laying around.

I got some pink and green fabric (pink to tie in with @basic-amoeba ‘s s10 Joel cosplay) and found some green scraps with a cool ornamental pattern on them to put across the shoulder blades.

Not bad for a first time making an article of clothing by myself.

The mask

I wanted the eye scar to show from a distance so I hand embroidered red thread extending down from where the makeup scar is drawn

The pants were bought for the cosplay but I did sew on some pink ribbons to tie in the pink more into the costume.

The tail and ears!

I have a lot of fun sewing fur projects and tails with patterns are especially fun.

To make a patterned tail, I first draw out the design to scale on a large piece of paper. I then cut out all the pieces that are different colors, labeling which directions the fur goes and what color they are.

I use those pieces as patterns to trace and cut out twice of the fur fabric.

Next, I blanket stitch around all the edges on each side where the fur pattern belongs. Since it’s being hand sewn, not much seam allowance is necessary.

I sew the two pieces together and brush down the fur to check that the pattern is symmetrical.

Since the tail does have a pattern, it requires shaving and trimming around the markings to make them stand out and look sharper.

The difference it makes:

Last few steps involve sewing on a double elastic loop for a belt, then stuffing it.

If I wanted a more stable tail, I would have added a flat base to go against my back and without it, it moves a lot more

The ears are made by tracing out the shape of the ear(unfolded) into fur, lining the inside with a wire and thin eva foam. They are carefully trimmed and then drawn on with a pastel. I forgot to seal with with hairspray so the wig now has some pink patches where the ears go.

To add the markings and tufts, I simply glued red fur patches on and trimmed the fur to match the fur around it. I later added hairspray to shape the tufts and inner ear fur.

Some last details

The headband:

I made the headband using a tube of pink fabric that has been ironed flat with some shaped and painted Eva foam as the headband. I used a dremel to carve the hearts as well as adding scratches and dents for weathering.

Contacts:

I only wear one contact with this cosplay and it is a red mini sclera

This cosplay still has some things to add, but it’s at a good point to show how far it’s come!

[specialagentartemis]

I just started trying out stained glass, which I know you also do...any hot tips for beginners or things you wish you'd known when you were first learning?

YOOO STAINED GLASS. Fave. I would love to see what you come up with!

Are you primarily using foil+solder or lead came? I've never actually used came so I have very little advice in that department, though I do want to at some point...

Some things to keep in mind, some imparted to me by my craft center teachers and some discovered by trial and error:

Get a designated box to cut glass over, because the more ambitious the shapes you want to cut, the more shards WILL go everywhere and you want to keep them contained.

If you're cutting glass by hand, you cannot make sharply concave shapes. You will think you can. You will think it can't be that hard. You WILL push your luck. You will end up frustrated. Avoid concave shapes.

If you want to cut concave curves, make them very gently and generously sloped.

If you want to incorporate concave shapes in your design, use multiple pieces of glass to make the curve.

Design with glass in mind from the get-go, rather than trying to adapt a complicated image. If you're designing your own work, try to build it around larger, geometric shapes, without a lot of small fiddly curves. Small fiddly curves DO make fun images, but they will also drive you crazy when they inevitably don't quite fit together right. Make sure you build in enough larger, geometric shapes into your design to anchor your piece and save your sanity.

That said. NGL incorporating things like fossils and marbles and weird shaped natural things is Fun. You can wrap anything you want in copper tape.

Draw or print out your pattern on paper and number each piece on both the pattern and the glass itself. Sharpie wipes off glass pretty easily.

When grinding glass, make sure each piece is ever so slightly smaller than it is on your pattern. The thickness of copper tape seems negligable but adds up when you want pieces to fit precisely.

There are non-lead solders, and they're basically fine, if a little more annoying to use. Lead melts more easily, but I usually use zinc because it's not lead lol. Though if you're not eating off of your stained glass, using lead proooobably isn't a huge deal. Always wash your hands after glasswork regardless.

Tip tinner is your friend! Tin the tip of your soldering iron before and after use, it makes it so much easier.

When you're soldering pieces together, I find laying down a base of thick cardboard, laying out your design on the cardboard, and then using thumbtacks around the edges to anchor the glass pieces in place and prevent them from sliding around helps a lot.

If you want to hang up your stained glass creation like a suncatcher, add loops or hooks, and try to put them at junctures/seams of different pieces of glass to distribute the weight and pressure. My go-to method to make loops for hanging the pieces is to take a metal paperclip, and then loop it around needlenose pliers to make a circle with the wire sticking straight out on either side. Lay the flat wire ends along the outside and solder it down. It makes good secure loops that you can tie a ribbon or attach a chain to, while distributing the pressure along the outside of the piece. And it’s metal so solder sticks to it.

I hope that's not too much! I love working in glass, it's fun and it's so pretty.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XVI)

Surprise visitor

TW: strangulation, choking, strangling

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

The commute home was quiet for the most part, uneventful. Kit wore headphones to silence the world around him and let his mind go blank as he stepped out from the underground into the cool night air. The sky was halfway through its change, streaks of purple and red striking through the slowly darkening blues. Kit’s breath reflected back at him on the air, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him as he walked up the steps to his apartment.

Thoughts of a warm shower and dinner was tantalising as he unlocked his door and stepped in, pocketing his keys. He didn’t get a chance to close the door when his head was slammed again the wall. Kit cursed, clicking his fingers as electricity pulsed around his hand like a glove.

He swung his hand out blindly, hoping he’d hit his attacker. His attacker stepped back, to avoid Kit’s wild swing or because Kit managed to land a blow, Kit didn’t know or care as he stumbled further into his apartment. His eyes searched the darkness futilely, with a click of his fingers his lights came on and he was faced with the familiar dark eyes of Ambrose.

He was dressed in his usual suit, crisp and free of any wrinkles or creases. He wore a white shirt and a red tie today, a five o’clock shadow covering his jaw that somehow made his dark hair and eyes look darker.

Kit’s lip curled back as he threw his hands wide. “What the fuck! How did you even get in here?!”

Ambrose’s lips moved, but Kit couldn’t hear what he said over Bring me the Horizon playing at top volume in his ears. Kit’s anger dissipated as a realisation came over him and he laughed right in Ambrose’s face.

“Hey Rosey, can’t give me commands if I can’t hear you, dickhead.”

Ambrose tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as Kit stuck his middle finger up at Ambrose. “Get out of my house, or I’ll give you electro-shock therapy free of charge.”

Take off your headphones, Mallory.

The command was like a snake made of ice slithering through his brain, his body reacting before his mind became aware of the order. Ambrose smiled as Kit’s expression turned sour.

Did you forget that I don’t need your ears to make you obey me, Kit? I just need your mind.

“Fucking show off,” Kit muttered, turning his headphones off and discarding them on his couch. He took off his jacket and did the same, deflating as his prospects of a nice quiet evening and a shower dissipated with his guest’s arrival. “I had a long day. Sue me.”

“Still, you forget your manners around me, Kit,” Ambrose said, beginning to remove his tie from his neck. Sensing the direction Ambrose was about to go down, Kit clicked his fingers quickly and was only starting to raise his hands when Ambrose ordered: “don’t move.”

Kit tried with everything in him to fight the order that settled thick over his body like cement, locking his limbs in place. His hands still sparked with electricity as Ambrose undid the knot of his tie, starting towards Kit.

“Listen, Rosey, I know you’re into some kinky shit, but doesn’t it have to be consensual? I get it, I’m a good-looking guy—”

“Stop talking.” Kit’s lips wired shut and all he could do now was glare up at Ambrose as he stopped in front of him. Ambrose smirked down at him. “You’re so much more palatable this way, Kit. You should consider never speaking again.”

You’re such a dick, Kit thought as loudly as possible, pointing it straight into Ambrose’s mind. Ambrose didn’t reply, his smirk staying on his face as he wrapped his tie around Kit’s neck. He looped it, once, twice and pulled it tight until Kit made a noise in the back of his throat, his breath getting slightly more laboured.

Kit glared at him as Ambrose said: “you may speak.”

“You piece of sh—” Ambrose pulled the tie even tighter until it cut off Kit’s words and tied a knot to secure it properly.

Ambrose chuckled as Kit coughed, his breath catching as Ambrose wrapped the loose end of his tie around his palm.

“Now,” Ambrose hummed, pressing a hand to Kit’s shoulder. “On your knees.”

“Are you serious?” Kit barked, his voice coming out harsh and breathy. Kit fought his shaking legs that ached to obey Ambrose’s order, glaring up into two dark eyes.

“As the plague, you need to learn respect, Kit. Which is why, from now on,” Ambrose grabbed Kit’s face with two hands, forcing Kit to look into his eyes that were enthralling and far too intense to look away from. “When you see me, you will fall to your knees.”

This time Kit dropped like an anchor, his knees smacking off the ground was the least of his concern. Ambrose yanked up on the tie and Kit was choking as his airways were cut off from oxygen. Kit wanted to reach up and claw at Ambrose’s arms; to try and relieve the pressure on his throat but his arms were still locked to his sides. His electricity cackled with his panic before weakening to dull sparks and dissipating altogether.

“See? This just feels right,” Ambrose hummed above him. “You would have the women flocking around you if you just shut up for once in your life. You look almost decent when you’re not running your mouth.”

Kit fought his way through a coughing reply. “Fuck… yo—ou—ou—.”

Ambrose yanked the tie harder and Kit airway was cut off completely. Kit gasped, struggling to breathe trying to pull in air through his nose but there was nothing coming. All thoughts left his mind replaced by a blinding, hot panic.

Kit’s desperation was plain on his face, pleading with Ambrose to let him breathe, but one glance at Ambrose’s coal-like eyes and he knew there would be no mercy.

“I can wait until you pass out and we can try this again, or you can submit to me, and we can move on. It’s your choice, dog. Blink twice if you’ve had enough.”

Kit glared up at him, trying desperately to hold out but his face was going purple, and he thought his head was going to explode. Hating himself, Kit blinked twice, and Ambrose stopped pulling on the tie.

“You can move,” Ambrose told him. No sooner had the words left his mouth that Kit fell forward, hands hitting the floor, gasping bucketfuls of air into his scorched lungs. He choked on the air as it overwhelmed his airways, falling further to rest on his forearms and knees, wheezing as he tried to collect himself.

“You-ou-ou,” Kit wheezed, punctuated by short coughs between, “fuck-king ah-arsehole.”

“Oh, stop flirting, Mallory,” Ambrose said waving the comment away.

Kit satisfied at the amount of oxygen he had now pushed himself back up to his knees. One hand on the floor he began to push himself up again, but Ambrose interjected: “ah-ah-ah. Stay on your knees, good dog.”

Kit wiped the tears from his face, sharpening his gaze to a glare. “I hate you.”

“Standing privileges are earned, Kit. Someone has to teach you manners now that your only parental figure is indisposed.”

Kit’s heart thrummed in his chest, a quick flash of anxiety and hurt at the easy comment. “You—” he began but no other words came to him as humiliation crawled hot and red up his neck and flooded his face.

“I?” Ambrose asked with a shit eating grin, sitting down in Kit’s favourite armchair and spreading out as if it were a throne.

Kit looked away from his coal-like eyes and turned his attention to removing Ambrose’s tie. Until Ambrose stopped him again. “Don’t touch your leash, doggie.”

“Quit calling me a dog!” Kit barked, running a shaky hand through his hair because he couldn’t do anything else.

“I’ll call you whatever I like, Mallory. That’s the beauty of being me. If you want to stop me, then stop me. If you want to disobey, then disobey.”

“I can’t,” Kit spat through gritted teeth.

Ambrose spread his hands in a shrug. “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

“It’s your orders I’m following!” Kit said hotly, looked away, his anger getting him nowhere. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “You know what, forget it. What do you want?”

“I missed you. Can’t an old friend come by and see his favourite pet?”

“Evidently you can do whatever you want,” Kit muttered, sitting back on his heels to alleviate the pressure on his knees.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Ambrose hummed.

An easy silence fell over them, interrupted by Kit’s growling stomach which neither of them commented on. Kit just wanted a shower and food and his bed, to process everything that had happened at work. From his theorising with Tides, to interrupting his meeting Superhero was having with Mr Silver, to his argument with Superhero to put him on the rota for patrols.

“Not now, you’re still recovering.”

“I know myself,” Kit protested. “Put me down on patrols, Superhero. I’m fine! I wouldn’t be back at work if I was still sick!”

Superhero stared at Kit. Kit stared at Superhero imploringly. Superhero sat back with a sigh. “Okay. Fine, but you’re not patrolling the inner city. I’m putting you on residential.”

“But—”

“No buts, it’s residential or nothing.”

Kit pouted like a child, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. “Fine,” he said after a beat. Something was better than nothing.

Ambrose unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, drawing Kit’s attention to him. He had already unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat down, and Kit scoffed.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“You really are so accommodating, Mallory.”

Kit glared at him. something strange struck him. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

Ambrose pulled out a key in reply. Kit shot forward, remembered he was on his knees and had to stop himself before he fell forward. “I made a copy of your key.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that,” Kit said, running a hand through his hair with a huff. “How’d you make a copy?”

“I asked you to give me your key and made you forget that I asked,” Ambrose replied as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “It really is easy to get what I want.”

“Must be nice,” Kit muttered.

Ambrose looked at the key, something flashing over his expression as he turned it over between his fingers. “You would think.”

Kit scoffed, crawling over to the kitchen. “Is this the part where you tell me how hard it is to be able to control everything and everyone to your will? Because I’m all out of sympathy for psychopaths today, so come again another day.”

He had only put the kettle on when Ambrose spoke again. “Come here, Kit.”

“Are you serious?” Kit whined, crawling back towards Ambrose. Kit stopped right in front of Ambrose, glaring into his impassive face. Ambrose reached forward and grabbed the end of Kit’s tie, yanking him up.

Kit yelped and shot his hands out, grabbing the red fabric with his hands trying to alleviate the pressure.

“Let go, Kit.”

“Wait, Ambrose, please. I—” I’m sorry didn’t come to his tongue, his pride wrestling with his self-preservation and winning.

Ambrose tilted his head, black eyes dancing with amusement. “You?” He prompted, wrapping the tie around his knuckles once.

Kit pinched his lips into a thin line, halfway between a grimace and a frown. “Look, I’m—”

“You’re a rude, insolent child?” Ambrose supplied, wrapping the tie around his hand again, drawing Kit up closer towards him. Kit was now high on his knees, his face inches from Ambrose’s. “You need to be taught some manners?”

Kit didn’t say anything.

“I think you—”

“Do you not like my rudeness?” Kit rushed out, straining his neck to try and get more air into his lungs. Ambrose’s death grip didn’t make it exactly easy to breathe. Ambrose tilted his head at Kit, a silent motion for him to continue. “You like that I fight back. You like that you’re able to be rough with me and make me submit because I hate you. I fucking despise you when you do it.”

“You are so bold.”

“And you like it!” Kit all but yelled. Kit cried out as the heel of Ambrose’s palm slammed up into his nose. Blood gushed instantly and Kit’s hands went to his nose instead of the tie, which Ambrose used to his advantage, tightening the tie until it cut off Kit’s air supply.

Ambrose got to his feet dragging Kit along the floor behind him until they cleared the couches. Ambrose released Kit in the open space of the living room, to gasp and curse and choke on blood.

“Don’t bleed on my suit, Mallory. Honestly, were you raised in a barn?” Ambrose asked, removing his suit jacket swiftly and undoing his cuffs as Kit pushed himself to his hands and knees. “Oh wait, I almost forgot. You’re from the Rookery, aren’t you? No wonder you have the manners of a swine.”

“Fuh— fuck off, Rosey.”

“Mmm,” Ambrose hummed, something dark in his tone. a dress shoe was flying towards Kit’s cheek, and he was thrown off balance, his shoulder hitting the ground hard. “That was rude, Mallory. Don’t worry. I’ll whip you into a model citizen.”

Another kick to the face and Kit was on his back on the ground. He didn’t have time to move or blink before Ambrose was on top of him, two molten black eyes gleaming down at him. Kit put his hands up, trying to push the villain off of him. Pain, anger and fear blunted his reflexes, leaving him dizzy and weak.

Ambrose didn’t touch him again. Instead, he started to slowly, methodically roll up his sleeves, his weight pinning Kit to the ground, knees straddling Kit’s waist.

“You know, Mallory, you caught me off guard the last time I was here. I mean, your connection to Mentor, how poetic could all this be, hmm? What sort of God hated you so much that he drew me to you, after I disposed of Mentor?”

“Shut up,” Kit hissed, throwing his fist up. Ambrose caught it and punched his nose. Kit cried out, warm blood beginning to gush again as he bucked his hips trying to throw Ambrose off.

“Manners, Kit. Your elder is speaking.” Ambrose chided with a sickening smirk, tucking his sleeve all the way to just below his elbow. “So, I decided to do some digging into you, into your— oh what did you call it? Your tragic backstory, and damn. Talk about pathetic. Not only did your parents not want you, but apparently neither did any of your precious heroes.”

“Shut up!” Kit roared, grabbing Ambrose by the shirt and planting his foot on the floor, bucking his hip and they went rolling until Kit was on top of Ambrose and started to rain down punches.

Ambrose threw his arms up, forearms protecting his face from Kit’s furious onslaught. Kit let out a roar as he punched, switching from his face to punch Ambrose in the stomach. He managed to get one solid hit on Ambrose’s solar plexus and Ambrose gasped, curling up as he gasped.

Kit’s nose curled up, grabbing Ambrose’s shirt and sending a nasty left hook to his jaw. Ambrose saw blood flying across his face, though it wasn’t his. Ambrose grabbed Kit’s tie and yanked him down. Ambrose slammed his forehead into the bridge of Kit’s nose and Kit cried out.

Ambrose used the distraction to flip them again, slamming his palm into Kit’s nose once more. Kit let out a harsh cry, kicking uselessly, struggling to get away, to get Ambrose off of him.

Ambrose laughed as Kit writhed beneath him, hands cupping his stomach where Kit had punched. If Kit could see right now, he would see the crazed look in Ambrose’s eyes, that were always so impassive or subtle. Splatters of blood painting his alabaster skin with bright red freckles that were starting to dry in.

“Fuck, Kit! This is why I just can’t leave you alone. You’re too much fun, you know that? If you were boring, maybe I’d’ve gotten bored by now, but no.” Ambrose leaned down, grabbing Kit by the collar of his shirt, fists twisting into the fabric. “Look at me Kit.”

It was more of a growl than a command, but still Kit obeyed. Tear-filled blue eyes met sparkling onyx and widened in fear. Ambrose looked insane in that moment, and something primal took over.

One of Kit’s blood-stained hands went to Ambrose’s wrist trying to dislodge it from his shirt while the other pushed at his crisp white shirt, trying to push him off.

“Look at you,” Ambrose whispered, cupping Kit’s cheek and digging him thumb into Kit’s cheekbone. “Knuckles beaten raw, nose broken, blood dripping down your lips and chin and still you try to fight me?”

Ambrose let out a boisterous laugh, verging on hysterical. His eyes narrowing as if Kit was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“What makes you think you’d stand a chance against me? Like are you stupid? Delusional? Is there something wrong up here?” He asked, tapping Kit’s temple with his finger.

“I think…” Kit said, tightening his grip on Ambrose’s wrist. He sucked in a breath through his mouth, feeling the energy rippling in the air and his eyes turned a static red. “That you talk too much.”

Ambrose was thrown off of Kit before he had time to react. His back smacked off the wall with a dull thud before he slid down. Kit’s entire body cackled to life, his lights flashing in the apartment, his TV turning on and off. All the electrical appliances in the kitchen beeped and buzzed, sparks flying.

Kit got to all fours, gasping in laboured breaths through his mouth, his nose too clogged with blood to breathe through as his body thrummed with an uncontrollable energy. Sparks flew from every part of his body, even his blood which was dripping onto the wooden floor beneath him seemed to glow with the eerie red hue.

Ambrose let out a startled, broken laughter, his muscles spasming as he drew his knee to his chest with a wince. “Phew, Kit. You… you’ve got a dark side. You would be a truly, magnificent villain.”

Kit looked over his shoulder like some wild animal, baring his blood-stained teeth at Ambrose. “Make it stop,” Kit growled, his words filled with static. A particularly nasty strike of lightning erupted from his chest and Kit faltered, crying out. “AMBROSE! Make it stop! Please! Argh!”

Kit’s arms shook and faltered as another shockwave of red electricity thronged from him and he hit the ground. Ambrose watched, licking his lips as Kit fell again to the ground. He let out a soft scoff, pushing his back against the wall to get himself standing again. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and took a deep breath. he said, “Kit, stop using your powers.”

 Another shockwave of energy blasted from Kit, staggering Ambrose and pushing him back against the wall. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Kit… hey. Kit! Shit.”

Kit cried out again as another wave of energy was torn from his body. Ambrose kicked Kit onto his back, grabbing the tie and pulling it taut. Kit gasped, wide eyes on Ambrose’s face, kicking out at his legs. “Ah, fuck. Kit! I’m trying to help you, stop … nng… fighting –”

Another red wave hit Ambrose square in the chest, and he was sent flying back against the wall again. The whites of Ambrose’s eyes disappeared completely, his lips turning a deep crimson red. “Kit. STOP using your powers.”  

Kit’s body went impossibly still. The only movement was aftershocks spasming through his body as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. His eyelids grew heavy when Ambrose stepped into view, his lips a bright red against his marble skin. It faded back to their normal colour, still more vibrant than most. Kit couldn’t really focus on them though, thoughts moving through his brain like sludge, heavy and muddled.

Ambrose crouched down beside him, pushing Kit’s hair off his forehead, almost tenderly. “That’s it, Kit. Just relax. I’ll make us that tea while you get your bearings, hmm?”

Kit didn’t move while he stood; he just rest his worn body while his tormentor left to go make him some tea. He wished in that moment that his electricity would consume him, tear through his veins and kill him swifter than an electric chair or a noose. When he closed his eyes they were still gleaming an unnatural red.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie e @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @tippytappytyping @stefaniesblogs @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump

[katyawriteswhump]

Never let me go (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18, Free Space--Hurt/Comfort. 

Steve’s really good at pretending he’s fixed—especially to himself—and decides he’s totally up for kinky fun with Eddie. Also part of my steve whump fic thread on ao3

WC: 922.

Rating: M.

CW: Mild kink and bondage, sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD, flashbacks. Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort. Trauma. Fluff, whump.

***

Eddie draws the tinsel garland around Steve’s arm, looping it loosely before dragging it tighter. Not too tight. Steve swallows hard, nerves fizzing. Eddie tethers Steve’s wrist to the bed frame behind his head with a loopy, hitchy knot.

“Where the heck did you learn—"

“My uncle. He’s worse than a billion scout leaders, I shit you not.” Eddie lazily kisses the tender underside of Steve’s wrist, beneath the knot, setting Steve’s pulse skittering. Eddie shifts his attention to Steve’s other hand. Steve has, without thinking, moved himself into place, ready to be tied. He’s happily drowning in Eddie’s gorgeous eyes, lapping up Eddie's hungry appreciation of him, till…

“You’re sure you’re good with this, Stevie?” 

“How many times, dude? I’m fine.” Steve slides his tongue around suddenly dry-feeling lips. “Tinsel is dangerous for cats and babies. I could literally snap this crap in half.”

“You could snap me in half.”

“I dunno. You’re crafty. And deceptively strong.” Steve tugs speculatively at the tinsel. It’s deceptively strong too, and the wire holding it together grooves into his flesh. Clearly breakable, though. If he wanted out.

He doesn’t.

When Eddie confessed a drunken desire to tie Steve to their bed, they’d both been apprehensive—given Steve’s “history,” with Soviets and throttling vines, and the rest of the shitshow. Using tinsel was Steve’s dumb, buzzed-out-of-his-skull idea.

Now, Eddie drags the tinsel across Steve’s bare chest, swirls it over his abs, raising goosebumps in its wake. Eddie’s using black and silver tinsel. “So pretty against your skin,” he purrs. Steve’s eyes flutter closed, because the sensations… Gnng! So good! Also, kinda excruciating. Both too little contact, and too much.

Eddie trails the tinsel lower. Steve’s wearing his boxers, and he moans, whimpers—why isn’t he naked yet? Eddie’s fingers drift down Steve’s leg, and Steve flexes into Eddie’s hand. Eddie spreads Steve’s leg toward the bedpost then crouches beside.

Eddie’s hot breaths scorch his flesh. Steve’s breaths accelerate further. As he binds Steve’s ankle, Eddie’s brows knit in concentration. Why’s that super-hot? Steve’s gotten a semi already, and he’s no clue what Eddie’s gonna do next.

“I better be naked soon, Munson.” Eddie lightly pinches Steve’s inner thigh, a total blindside. “Ow!”

“Patience, Babe. Or I’ll start over with your ass upward.”

Steve smirks: “Only just thought of that, moron?”

“Haha, don’t be a brat. Takin’ this slow. Now, shhhh.”

Steve shudders, frets his lip. Eddie winds the last of the tinsel around Steve’s other leg. This is still fun—right?—and he trusts Eddie. Okay, that nervous stirring in the pit of his stomach persists, but it’s sure as hell exciting. Eddie backs away, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Gonna eat me or fuck me?”

“C’mon on, man. Didn’t I say, ‘Sssssh’?”

“There’s better ways to shut me up.”

The kiss is delicious and deep, and Steve just breeeaaaaks. It’s easy to surrender to this—the hot, thrumming weight of Eddie’s clothed body pressed to his near-nakedness, the slick sweep of Eddie’s tongue, the frisson of tinsel against Steve’s ever-more-sensitive flesh as he fidgets and sighs. He feels wanted, worshipped… and randy as hell.

Eddie breaks the kiss abruptly. Before Steve can whine about it, Eddie presses a finger to his own lips, looking… kinda stressed?

The blood thundering in Steve’s ears calms enough for him to hear the loud knocking on the door.

“Eddie? Steve? Hellloooo!” It’s goddamn Henderson.

“I’ll tell him to scram.” Eddie leaves.

Steve’s breathing speeds up again—his face burns, the rest of his skin feels oddly chilled. Distant voices murmur, an owl hoots, and he’s all alone… and feeling… okay, yeah, vulnerable.

Don’t be a wuss, Harrington. You can break free if you want. It’s candy-ass tinsel.

He tugs at his bonds. 

No, don’t spoil the game.

His eyes lull closed, and he’s lost in an instant. 

His hands are tightly bound… above his head… no, behind his back? Shit, shit, shit, he’s losing track of everything save his terror. All he knows is he’s struggling, and he can’t get free and the Soviets are gonna hit him again. They just keep hitting him. Shouting in his face. He tastes the blood, and he’s screaming it over and over: “For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy.”

His raw throat clogs, then closes up. He can’t breathe! The vines… Those goddamn vines. They’re winding about his every limb, slithering, squeezing tight around his neck. His whole existence reduces to a desperate fight for air… I’m choking… drowning… suffocating… Oh God… Oh God! He fights in small, snatchy gasps that he barely believes in. Vecna’s got him, and he’s gonna die, and…

“Steve! Sweetheart, you’re okay… You’re okay… I gotcha.”

“Wha—” Steve’s eyes fly wide. Eddie. Eddie’s here! Leaning over him. Touching him tenderly. Reality slams back, and he throws an arm around Eddie’s neck and clings. Eddie hugs him close, and the whirlwind of his panic slows. His only actual pain is a faint sting in his wrists and ankles, where he’s busted through the tinsel.

“Crap, I’m sorry.” Eddie presses a soft kiss to Steve’s clammy brow. “Leaving you was dumb. The whole idea was dumb.”

“S’okay.” Steve buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, and his pulse and breaths calm further. “I kinda enjoyed it till…” I totally lost my shit. He slowly inhales Eddie’s warm, reassuring scent. The terrifying flashbacks retreat a little further. He’s okay… He’s okay! As long as Eddie never lets him go, the darkness won’t win.

He nuzzles up toward Eddie’s ear: “Maybe try again next year?”

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 0.5 | Jake Seresin x Reader AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst + eventual smut , suggestive content and language but no sex, minors dni

…

“She said she’s not coming out while you’re here.” Allen explains, adjusting his tie as he steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him. Jake keeps a straight face, then shrugs his shoulders. He wants to laugh. You’ve spent two weeks trying to get under his skin and he managed to get under yours in six minutes.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Jake asks.

“How about you two head downstairs, check out the hall, I’ll bring her in with me in a couple of minutes.”

“That isn’t what the briefing said-“

“I know that, but whatever you said to her this afternoon has her pissed off. This is the new plan.” Allen interrupts, his tone stern. It’s the first time he’s shown a sign of actually being a leader since Jake got here. Jake nods his head.

“Fine.”

He turns and abandons his post outside of her door. Manny trails along after him.

“What did you say to her to have her this mad?” Manny asks, glancing behind them to make sure you aren’t within earshot.

“Told her to stop flirting with me.” Jake answers calmly. It isn’t a lie, but Jake chooses to leave out the part where he had her pinned to her bed and begging for his cock.

Manny chuckles, pushing his hands into his pockets, “So she was still trying to get you fired, then?”

“Think so,” Jake agrees, adjusting the wire behind his ear as he leads the way into the event hall. It’s already teeming with security, which is good. It means that Jake’s job should be a little easier tonight. “I don’t know how you put up with her for this long. She’s driving me crazy.”

Manny hums amusedly, then shakes his head, taking in the tasteful decor around him, “Well, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favours by being such a dick to her.”

Jake stops at the top of the stairs, turning to face his colleague seriously.

“We aren’t here to be her friends.” He reminds him.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe she could do with some real friends more than security?” Manny replies calmly, pushing one hand into his pocket as he heads down the stairs towards the event. There are a couple of low tier guests here already, a lot of people without their own details. The higher tier guests always arrive later on.

Jake follows this time.

“She has friends,” Jake answers. He doesn’t dare put his hands in his pockets because he remembers his training. “Did you forget the dozen or so kids she had over the first day I showed up?”

Manny scoffs.

“What?” Jake urges him to continue with what he was going to say. Manny grabs a non-alcoholic champagne and turns, taking a sip from the glass. He gives Jake a look. Like Jake’s so out of the loop, like there’s something that he just doesn’t get yet. Manny has been waiting for him to figure it out, but he figures that if he waits any longer then the two of you might actually kill each other.

“Those aren’t real friends.” Manny takes another long drink from the glass.

Jake stands at his side, considering what this statement means. He thinks about it for a while. He’s been at your side all day, every day for about three weeks now. He hasn’t heard you getting a lot of texts, no phone calls. He wonders if any of those friends have checked up on you since he got here.

He opens his mouth to question Manny further, then spots the head of security heading straight for them.

“Gomez - enjoying the refreshments?” Don calls out.

Manny’s eyes widen as he hides the glass behind his back like he hasn’t already been caught.

“Yes, sir. - No. No, Sir.” Manny answers.

Jake’s gaze lifts. He notices the security at the top of the stairs first. The president enters the room, arm in arm with his wife. You look most like your mother. She’s a beautiful woman, she looks elegant as she stops at the top of the stairs. He glances down at his watch, you’re supposed to be here before they are.

He shakes his head, lifting his sleeve, speaking into his cuff, “Update on Apollo, please.”

The President and the First Lady move down the stairs together and immediately get to greeting their guests.

“On our way, asshole.” Your voice comes through Jake and Manny’s earpieces after speaking into Allen’s cuff. Manny glances across at Jake. Jake sighs and leans his head back, staring at the twinkling lights covering the ceiling.

Jake waits patiently, checking periodically as the president makes his way around the room while Don scolds Manny at his side.

“Manny. It’s been a while.” Matthew interrupts Don’s lecture to reach out and shake Manny’s hand. Manny smiles at him, the two of them make small talk about their personal lives and how long it has been since they last crossed paths. Matthew then turns his attention towards the taller agent at Manny’s side. “And you must be the one causing all the trouble.”

It’s a playful comment, and the President smiles as he says it. He extends an open palm out towards Jake.

“I’m sure that’s what you’ve heard.” Jake agrees as he places his palm in Matthew’s and shakes his hand with a firm grip. Matthew chuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Seresin,” Matthew smiles, Jake catches a glimpse of you in his features, but you still look most like your mother. “Allen has been telling Sara and I that you’ve been doing a great job taking care of our little girl.”

Jake thinks back to this afternoon. He did a great job of making her want to fuck him, then murder him in the space of a couple of minutes. Still, Jake smiles and nods his head.

“Just doing my job, sir.” Jake says calmly. He feels a little bit like a pilot again when he says it. Maybe it’s trying to hold back the smugness in his tone.

“Keep it up, kid. - It’s not an easy placement, I know. I want you to know that I appreciate you being so patient with her.” Matthew says.

Jake nods his head.

He probably could have done with this pep talk before the events of this afternoon, but he smiles and nods nonetheless.

Jake glances up, catching a glimpse of colour in his peripheral.

Your hand is resting in Allen’s, you’re at the top of the stairs, there’s an almost nervous smile on your face as you glance down at the steps. You’re worried about tripping in these shoes, but Allen’s got you and you’re secure in that knowledge.

Jake’s gaze starts off at your heels. A simple pair of classy heels, not too high, you walk confidently in them - you’re worried inside but Jake can’t tell. The dress ends around your calf, not floor length, not short. It’s elegant, mid-length and its colour lands somewhere between pearl and champagne. It compliments your skin tone, your figure.

The straps are dainty, the structure of your collarbones catches Jake’s attention. The supple curve of your shoulders, the way the satin sits on your skin. It doesn’t expose much, you’re still plenty covered up - it’s a charity event after all, but Jake’s in awe.

It’s a straight neckline, draping slightly in the centre. It’s flawless and almost posed, even when you’re moving. There’s a dainty gold necklace - a birthday present from a few years ago - dangling between your collarbones, the twinkling lights overhead make it glint with each step that you take. Jake’s eyes take a while to find your face.

You’re looking at him when he finally does.

It’s his turn to be searching for words. He watches you take your first step, your hand in Allen’s palm as he walks with you.

He doesn’t know where the doe-eyed deer in headlights from this afternoon went, but the beautiful girl in that incredible dress walking towards him now, she would never fall for such a thing. There’s a confidence to the way you hold your chin high, a grace to the way that you step down into the room. An effortlessness that gives away how much practice you’ve had at doing this kind of thing.

Your eyes are on Jake’s each step of the way. A softness in the green of his eyes. Maybe regret, even, for the way he treated you earlier.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and squeeze Allen’s hand gently. Jake’s lips part slightly, you’re staring right at him, headed straight for him. He closes his mouth and stands up a little straighter, swallowing. It makes him feel like he’s in middle school again, the way his heartbeat picks up with each step that brings you closer.

His eyes briefly flicker upward, to the twinkling lights overhead, then he looks over at the live band. Then, back to you. He holds his breath as you reach him, worried that a trembling inhale will give him away.

“Daddy.”

Jake’s brows furrow tightly together. Your eyes are on him when you say it. There’s a split-second where Jake worries he’s about to explode with embarrassment, then your attention turns.

“Princess!” Your father returns your greeting as he turns his body to face you. He opens his arms and hugs you tenderly. Jake lets out a breath, then brings a hand up to loosen his collar. It’s extremely warm in here all of a sudden.

Jake adjusts his earpiece and keeps his eyes on everyone else. Anyone but you. Your mother when you hug her, Allen as he’s greeted by both of your parents. Manny just so that he doesn’t have to pay attention to the way your eyes haven’t faltered from burning into his side.

It’s an observation that Jake cant help but make: there’s a formality and structure to the way that you greet your parents that isn’t all that different from how you have greeted everyone else earlier today. The media training takes precedent over familial ties. Your smiles and soft touches look good on camera. That’s what matters.

“I have someone for you to meet.” Your mother takes your hand and squeezes it, smiling widely like this is something for you to be excited about. It isn’t. This has happened at every event since you turned eighteen. She has been trying to find you a husband for a very long time. She was married at your age and she reminds you of that constantly.

“Oh, I-“ You look to your father for help, for an out. Jake catches the look. He looks over at Manny.

Manny quirks an eyebrow knowingly, Jake thinks back to their conversation about friends. He wonders how many of your friends were carefully picked out for you by your parents or their staff.

“You’ll love him. His mother is the…”

Jake’s eyes are firmly on your back as you’re led into the crowd. The dress isn’t entirely backless, but the top half of your spine is exposed to him as your mother leads you away. He cranes his neck to keep an eye on you in the crowd.

“Well, it was great catching up with you boys,” Matthew smiles politely, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more hands to shake.”

The three of them are left there, watching intently. They should split up for better viewpoints, but they remain for a moment.

Allen leans in close to Jake, his expression calm and friendly as he does. His tone is anything but.

“I don’t know what you did, but I swear to god, if you hurt her - I’ll end your career.” Allen says calmly. Jake keeps his head straight, his eyes on you. He nods his head in silent understanding. Honestly, he’s surprised that you didn’t tell Allen everything. Jake knows that he was out of line and could be fired for what he did. But he doesn’t regret doing it.

Jake keeps an eye on you. You’re introduced to a boy around about your age. He’s the son of one of Matthew’s friends from law school, he’ll be a lawyer himself soon. Tom. Average height, short, dark hair, skinny.

The two of you chat for a while, talk over some drinks, and then move towards the dance floor. Jake doesn’t know how long he watches, but he knows that he’s pulling a face. He just can’t help it. He doesn’t like the way this kid touches you.

“Hey, Jake, mind doing me a quick favour?” Matthew’s hand comes up to rest against Jake’s shoulder, squeezing platonically over the fabric of Jake’s tux. Jake turns his head and raises his eyebrows. Surprised by the gesture and Matthew’s presence simultaneously. He nods his head quickly, anything, he agrees.

“Break that mess up, for me, would you?” Matthew nods his head, gesturing to the centre of the dance floor. Jake follows his gaze, already knowing exactly what your father is talking about. The boy’s hand is a little low on your back, his fingertips are white at the tops, and leaving indents in your skin, he’s trying to hold you closer and closer to him.

You’re leaned back slightly to put some distance between your faces. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not comfortable.

“What should I tell her?” Jake asks. Matthew shakes his head and sips his scotch.

“No, no, I don’t want to ruin her fun completely. Just dance with her for a bit, until that little shit takes the hint.” Matthew decides.

“Oh. I don’t - I think she would be more comfortable if I asked Allen to do that, Sir.” Jake shakes his head slightly.

Matthew nods his head, tapping at the edge of his glass, his eyes on you.

“Yeah, but you’re the only one here who looks as pissed off about those two as I do,” Matthew smiles at Jake. “And even if she doesn’t like you, I’m sure she would much rather be seen with the guy every woman in here keeps looking at as opposed to someone old enough to be her father.”

“I don’t kno-“

“One dance. Don’t make me ask twice, son.” Matthew chuckles, like it’s a joke, then nudges Jake towards the dance floor. Jake swallows.

He straightens up and sighs as he makes his way over. You see him coming first, narrowing your eyes at him. He places his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jake asks, though it’s clearly not a question. If Tom wasn’t so repulsive, you would have objected yourself. Jake waits until Tom’s gone before he takes your hand in his and wraps one arm around your waist softly.

You look past Jake and find your father smiling. He nods in head in acknowledgement, thinking that he just saved you from that creep, and then turns away. You scowl at Jake.

“I’m not thrilled about this either,” Jake announces, before you can say anything. He leads your body with the arm around your waist, swaying to the music. He looks you in the eye, his face softens. “You look… nice.”

“Nice.” You muse over the compliment.

Jake’s lips quirk slightly, “What was I supposed to say?”

“No, nice is fine. Maybe worth it might have been more appropriate, but I’ll let it go.” You answer him. Jake smirks. His hand rests safely on the middle of your back, thumb stroking tenderly over the exposed skin for a moment. You hold his shoulder, letting him bring you closer. He leans in so that he can talk quietly.

“Well, if you’re still wearing those cute blue panties then I might reconsider.” He isn’t serious, his tone tells you clearly that he’s making fun of you. You pull back and look up at him, tilting your head.

“Actually, I’m not wearing any.” You tell him. You watch his nose scrunch just slightly. He shakes his head.

“There’s no way you’d show up here with no underwear on.” Jake answers.

“Shame that you won’t get to find out.” You give a soft shrug of your shoulders. Jake smiles at you. He hums in agreement.

Sara sets her glass down and leans into her husband’s side, brows furrowed slightly as she leans into her husband’s side, “Matthew, why is she dancing with the staff?”

Matthew chuckles, “Because the staff are the only guys here that I can trust not to try something with her.”

Sara frowns, watching the way he looks at you with a soft smile toying on his lips, the way your hand rests on his shoulder. She’s too far away to hear you quietly threatening each other. The two of you look good together. The way you move together is swift, dynamic, it makes sense.

“How can you be so sure that they won’t? - I mean, look at him, I wouldn’t blame her if she had a little crush on him.”

Matthew frowns at his wife’s opinion of the agent. Still, he finishes his scotch and kisses her temple, “Because if any of the staff are stupid enough to try that, then I get to personally set them straight, sweetheart. That’s why they behave.”

“If you want, I can go get that little slimeball to come back here and finish the dance.” Jake says it tenderly so that no one around you will catch on to the nature of your conversation. You narrow your eyes at him.

“What happened to you to make you such an asshole?” You ask.

Jake shrugs his shoulders, “I’d ask what happened to make you such an entitled bitch, but - I think I have an idea.”

He gestures around him. At all this.

You step forwards, pressing your heel purposely into his shoe. Jake narrows his eyes at you.

“I’m not an entitled bitch. I’m mean to you because you’re a miserable dickhead.” You tell him.

“Smile!”

You turn your head and Jake tucks you in against his side. You both smile politely for the camera. The photographer moves on and Jake turns to face you again. He wraps an arm around your waist, then pulls you flush against his body. You open your mouth to protest, caught off guard as he dips you back slightly, his hand finding the back of your thigh to guide it along his.

Jake’s got you, secure in his arms, his eyes on yours. He’s only a couple of inches from your face, and the lights overhead bring out the shimmer on your eyelids. Jake’s been through years of training. He considers himself to be a disciplined person. Yet, there’s a split second where he does consider just doing it. It would be so easy for him to lean forwards and press his lips to yours.

He stands you upright and takes your hand in his.

It’s clear that the two of you could do this all night. The last thing Jake wants is for you to run out of the event, screaming about how much you hate him. In fact, he’s quite enjoying having you exactly where you are. He leads the dance, swaying you against him. You narrow your eyes as Jake’s features soften.

“I’m sorry.” Jake says softly.

Your brows furrow for a moment, then raise in surprise. The music is loud, you aren’t sure if you heard that right.

“I’ve been being a little hard on you, and what I did this afternoon was out of line. I’m sorry.” Jake’s fingertips trail over your exposed spine tenderly.

You shake your head softly.

“I could have you fired for what you did today.” You tell him.

Jake nods, his lips quirking up into a soft smirk, “Sure. If you wanted to tell your dad about how you needed it so bad.”

You stop moving and scowl at him, Jake pulls you back in against him and continues to guide your bodies to the music.

“That’s what I thought. I said I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I think we just need to respect each other a little more.” Jake murmurs.

You let out a heavy breath. It won’t happen again. You’ve been thinking about Jake’s deep voice, strong muscles and the things that he said to you all afternoon. Sure, you’re upset with him for what he did - but you’re more upset at the idea that he won’t do it again.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t-“

“Stop talking,” Jake sighs. He looks back at you and smiles, “I love this song.”

Your scrunch your nose at him, not recognising the melody. He guides your body to each note, letting out a contented breath. You frown slightly, surprised by this behaviour.

“Wow. So, you don’t hate everything.” You comment teasingly.

Jake chuckles. He lifts your arm and turns you, spinning you away from him and guiding you around until your back is to his chest. He sways the two of you to the music, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Just you, sweetheart.” Jake jokes.

You drive your elbow backwards into his abdomen, feeling him flinch. He laughs at the action, then spins you back around and turns you to face him. He’s a good dancer. You wonder if he has ever been married, you know that some men take dance lessons before their weddings.

“I need a drink.” You tell him.

Jake squeezes your hip playfully, “Stay until the end of the song. For me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, then lean closer. Jake realises what you’re trying to do and leans down slightly, turning his head so that you can whisper to him. Your hand slides around to cup the nape of his neck, holding him close.

Jake closes his eyes as your lips graze his earlobe.

“You’re not worth it.”

His lips quirk up into a smirk as you pull back and slip out of his grasp. You step around him and head for the refreshments. Jake watches, you glance back over your shoulder once and smirk to yourself as you grab a glass of champagne. He’s seen you wandering around the house in a bikini a couple of times now. He hasn’t ever given you a second look.

But, the low back on the dress and the soft smirk on your lips as you turn away from him, sipping the champagne - that has his full attention.

Jake stands idle on the dance floor for a few seconds, watching you walk away from him.

Somehow, Jake has always dated women that have had an attitude. Even his first girlfriend in middle school had had plenty to say. His girlfriend in freshman year never let him have the last word. Even Dani, she spent more time making fun of him than she did making out with him.

He stands there under the lights, his eyes unashamedly on your ass, and realises that he has a type.

Jake moves from the centre of the dance floor and picks a point where he can see you, but not where the two of you will run into each other. Manny’s closest to you, Allen’s standing by the exit.

Jake glances around the room. It isn’t dissimilar to all of the Navy balls he has been to. Only, at those, it wasn’t so bad that his date was mean to him, because he spent the entire night secure in the knowledge that he was going to take her home. Dani wasn’t ever officially his date. She wasn’t ever officially his girlfriend. Or his anything - except for his wingman.

It was an unspoken rule that they would be each other’s dates to every event, without anyone ever questioning what they were.

Jake does his best to not think about Dani these days.

She would love the way you push Jake’s buttons. Jake bites his cheek, he imagines that Dani would be in fits of laughter at how pissed off Jake has been these last few weeks. She always thought he was cute when he was mad, which usually just made him more mad. Jake glances over at you periodically.

You have a fresh glass in your hand each time, but it isn’t his job to stop you from drinking. Allen or Manny can hold up that end of the bargain. Jake stands by the steps and watches an hour pass. There are plenty of people who want your attention, you’re polite and friendly with each one.

It grows boring to watch quickly. Jake moves to count the lights on the ceiling instead. 111… 112… 113.

“Um, does anyone have eyes on Apollo?”

Jake frowns, brows furrowing. He took his eyes off of her for a couple of minutes. He presses his earpiece closer to his ear and raises his cuff, “Manny, she was right next to you. What happened?”

“Someone got in my way and she was just gone! - Can either of you see her?”

“Fuck.” Jake mutters, he cranes his neck to look around the crowd.

“Alright, she’s not in here. Jake, you take the north wing, check her room. I’ll take East, Manny you take west.”

Jake takes off without need for further instruction. It’s part of the job to not take off running. Not cause a scene. Not let your father know that he lost you already. His heart thuds a beat harder with each room he checks that you aren’t in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jake mutters under his breath. He checks his watch. He has been searching for eight minutes now, he doesn’t know how long you were missing before that. There’s a maximum window of twelve minutes. A lot can happen in twelve minutes.

He hears giggling and comes to an abrupt stop. Jake grabs the door handle and slams his shoulder into the wood, swinging it open.

It’s Tom. That’s the first thing he notices. The second thing Jake notices is Tom’s slacks around his ankles, and the surprising lack of hair on his legs. Finally, Jake’s eyes land on the bare ass, belonging to the girl bent over an admin desk.

“What the fuck, man?” Tom pants, eyes blown wide. He struggles to grab for his underwear, making no effort to hide the girl. Jake has already averted his gaze. The girl rushes up and drops her dress, Jake frowns. It’s not you.

“Jake! Have you- oh my god.” There’s a hand on Jake’s shoulder. His head whips around, lips parting to find you looking equally shocked at his side.

This is bad. Jake’s hands find your hips and he’s shoving you out of the small office. The last thing he needs is for someone to come across the four of you. Tomorrow morning your picture in the papers with a headline about an orgy. He swings the door to the office shut behind him, his other hand still pushing you back into the hall.

You stumble, your back hitting a portrait so hard that it almost falls off of the wall.

Jake’s brows furrow, he steadies you with one hand and the portrait with the other.

“Where the fuck have you been? - You can’t just take off and not tell anyone!” Jake demands, his tone stern and scathing. He glances down and notices the open bottle of gin in your hand, then looks back up to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“I needed to pee!” You defend yourself, pushing off of the wall and standing upright. “I walked by Daddy’s office on the way back and found this.”

Jake sighs in frustration, lifting his wrist, “Found her, Apollo secure. Moving to home ground.”

“Apollo, homeground…” You shake your head disapprovingly as you lean back against the wall, looking at him through heavy lashes. “Can’t you just say my name? - And that we’re going to my room?”

Jake shakes his head as he waits for confirmation that his team just heard what he said.

“Did you see his dick?” You giggle. Jake shoots you a look. He did see Tom’s did, unfortunately. “That thing was weird looking.”

“Heard. Moving to position A, standing by.” Allen confirms.

“Heard, I’ll go to B.” Manny agrees.

Jake catches movement in his peripheral and turns his head. His lips part as you take a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He grabs the bottom of the bottle and tears it away from your mouth. You frown and grab the neck of the bottle tight. Jake narrows his eyes at you, “Let go.”

Your lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Make me.”

Jake shakes his head, “I’m not playing with you, drop the bottle.”

“Make me.” You answer again.

Jake tugs hard at the bottle, making your hands slip from its neck. You frown as he sets it on the hallway table behind him and grabs your hand in his. He begins to try to drag you along the hall.

“How is Tom getting laid and I’m not?” You complain, trailing sadly behind Jake, dragging your heels.

“Stop.” Jake checks around and shushes you.

You dig your heels into the carpet and stop walking, folding your arms over you.

“Move.” Jake gestures his head. You stare at him defiantly. It’s been a long day, he has been up for almost twenty-four hours straight. He doesn’t have the patience left to put up with this.

“Make-“

Jake leans forwards and grabs the back of your thighs. He lifts, tossing you over his shoulder and grabbing your legs to steady you. You yelp, pressing your palms to his back. You bite your cheek to keep from grinning as he carries you through the hall.

He opens the door to your room, then swings it shut behind you. He flicks on the light and sets you on your feet. You wobble slightly from the head rush, Jake grabs your waist and steadies you. You lean into him, lifting your chin, your eyes locked on his.

“Don’t.” He tells you again, his voice soft. You slip out of his arms and turn to face him.

He watches as you stand before him, at the bottom edge of your bed, then pull at the tie fastening the back of your dress. You stare at Jake, waiting for him to leave. His eyes fall down to the tie in your hands, then he glances back up to your face. He takes a step further in and away from the door.

Jake stands up straight and loosens his tie slightly.

You let out a soft breath, sliding the strap off of your shoulder. Jake watches silently. Your heart thuds in your chest, liquid courage in your veins. Jake’s eyes follow the second strap as it slides down to your elbow. His gaze flickers back up to meet yours.

You wait for him to stop you, or to head for the door. He stays where he is.

The straps fall past your elbows as you straighten your arms. Jake watches as the champagne coloured fabric slips, exposing your chest to him. His eyes linger on your breasts for a moment, before he looks back up at you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

You swallow, pushing the fabric past your hips. Jake’s eyes widen for a split second. Your lips quirk at his reaction.

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, eyes raking over your body. He clears his throat, then meets your gaze once more.

“I did tell you.” You say gently, heat rising to your cheeks as you cross your ankles, standing before him in nothing but a pair of heels. Jake almost smiles. He stops himself. You did warn him. He just didn’t think you were brave enough to actually go commando in a room full of some of the biggest names in politics.

Jake reaches out, skimming your side softly with his fingertips. A soft trail from your hip to the edge of your ribs, your skin soft under his fingertips. He’s distracted, looking down at your body, watching the course his fingertips take. He looks back up, finding you to be staring at him. There’s a nervousness to the way that you look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? - A-Am… Am I-“ You’re just tipsy, it’s just that he treats you like such a burden. You just need to know that he didn’t mean what he said.

Jake knows what you’re asking. He feels guilty for this afternoon. He bites his cheek.

He glances down between your body and his, sliding his fingers between yours, squeezing your hand softly.

Jake’s eyes find yours, searching over your features for a moment. He lets out a soft breath and guides your hand forwards, pressing it over his crotch. Your lips part, you look down at your hand over the fabric. His cock is hard and straining against the black fabric. You press your palm against his length and lean into him.

Jake brushes your hair tenderly off of your shoulders.

“You’d better get ready for bed.” He tells you gently. You look up at him, unsure whether he means for you to put pyjamas on or bend over. Jake clarifies for you by turning and picking up your neatly folded pyjamas from the chair in the corner of the room.

“Wha- Jake.” You frown at him.

“Do me a favour and don’t argue with me for once.” Jake tells you, unfolding the pyjama top. He takes your arms and pulls the shirt over your shoulders first, then pushes the matching shorts into your hands. You frown up at him as you step into them. “We can’t.”

You whine softly, watching as Jake’s capable hands button the sleep shirt.

“You don’t want to?” Your fingers skim over the fabric of his suit jacket as you look up at him. Jake fixes the collar on the sleep shirt and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if I want to.” Jake tells you. Fuck, he wants to.

You sit on the edge of your bed and lean back on your palms. It makes sense that he doesn’t want to. You’re in your childhood bedroom, the entire house is teeming with security at all times, and Jake’s career is on the line. You nod your head.

“Good girl,” Jake tells you. You stare up at him. He has to get out of this fucking room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. You lay back against the white sheets and close your eyes. A breath slips your lips. You already know that you’re going to regret all of that in the morning, but right now, breathing softly as you rest for a moment, you don’t.

…

Tag List:

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @the-mouse27 @hawsx3 @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter

[love-takes-work]

Teabag Cookies

Amethyst routinely eats used teabags. This is not good for humans, but if you wanna be like her, how about making your own edible teabags (well, as chocolate-dipped shortbread cookies)? Read on. . . .

See more SU food tutorials!

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon tea, any flavor you like

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

½ cup fine granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate pieces (to be melted)

Directions:

Use a stand mixer or hand mixer to whip the butter on medium speed until it is fluffy; it will take about 3 minutes. You can use a spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl.

In a little dish, stir together the tea and sugar. (Variation idea: If you want to make different flavors with different tea, you can half the ingredients and make separate batches.)

Whip the sugar mixture into the butter mixture, and once it's fully incorporated, add the vanilla extract.

Then add in the flour and salt. You will want to turn off the mixer, fold it in with the spatula a bit, and then use a low speed to complete mixing it in. Don't overmix; you want this to be evenly mixed together but no more.

Flatten the dough into a disc. Wrap it up in plastic wrap or a reusable refrigerator wrap, and chill it in the fridge for 1 hour or more.

Once the chilling is complete, prepare a clean floured surface and roll the dough out with a rolling pin to about half a centimeter/a quarter of an inch. Try to get it into a nice rectangle shape.

Using a nice sharp knife that makes clean cuts (or a pizza cutter), cut into nice little rectangles.

Use a spatula to lift the rectangles onto baking sheets lined with baking parchment. Space them with about a centimeter between them.

Then use the knife to chop two ends off each rectangle so they will be shaped like teabags.

Use a straw to punch a nice hole in each--not too close to the top. Make sure each hole goes all the way through.

Chill the cookies in the refrigerator for 15 to 20 minutes. This will help them retain their shape and not let the hole close up too quickly; they will start to harden as they cook in the oven before the butter in them melts if they start cold.

While waiting for the cookies to chill, you can preheat the oven to 340º F / 170º C. When ready to bake, use the middle rack only (do two baking batches). Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes and do not let them get brown--they should remain tan.

Cool on wire racks. Once the cookies are totally cooled, you can dip them. Use a double boiler to melt your chocolate pieces, stirring with a spatula to help combine lumps.

Dip the cookies halfway in to coat them with chocolate, and then put them back on their parchment to settle. You should chill the cookies again to help the chocolate solidify.

Now, for the strings (which really make the effect!), if you are already a tea-drinker you can save up tea strings and tags from other teabags you've used. This is especially cool if you are varying the flavors of the tea in the cookies and you can include matching tags. . . .

But if you don't drink tea, don't want to wait to collect tea strings, or just want to make your own, you can use dental floss for the strings and folded-over address labels as tags.

If you are serving these at a little tea party or at a gathering, you can always decorate these tags with names, symbols, stickers, or messages!

When you're ready to put it all together, just loop each string through the cookie holes and tie them.

It's pretty much required that you serve them on adorable dishware with dainty cups, right? They are perfect for dunking in tea!

Or you could just unceremoniously chomp them down, like a certain Gem we know!

See more SU food tutorials!

[bijoumikhawal]

how to make love in a mist (aka devil in the bush or nigella) fabric flowers

I have. An unfortunate passion for fabric flowers and not much money or experience making them. I could not find a tutorial for these, so I juryrigged something and figured I should share

Materials:

1/2 inch wide blue satin ribbon, double faced highly preferred

A flame (a lighter or candle works, I prefer a candle because I can just light it and be done with it)

Wire, about 18 gauge but honestly you don't need to be specific about it, anything between 16 and 20 should work fine

Sheet foam

Hot glue

Green paint

Paintbrush

A bamboo skewer or other stick

Black fringe, 1 cm wide or just cut it shorter. A dark green fringe would also work well.

Instructions:

Cut your blue ribbon into 9-10cm long strips. You should use about 8-10 of these per flower

Cut an inverted v into both ends and seal with heat.

Cut a 2cm wide strip of foam. Roll it to form a small spiral and cut- you want a little more overlap than a tube, but not much.

Cut 3 small pieces of wire per flower, about 6-4 cm long, and fold loosely in half. Insert them through the foam, close to one end. Bend the pieces to form a bit of a spiral shape. Clip wires shorter as needed. You can tie the other end of the foam with thread if it tries to unfurl.

secure the wire and foam with hot glue. Cover the foam evenly with a first layer of glue, then let harden. Add more hot glue near the unwired end to for a tear drop like shape, imitating the center capsule of the love in a mist flower. In all honestly you could skip some of this, just use glue as reinforcement, and paint the foam directly. Initially I was going to, but I decided to try this.

Make 3 cm long wires with a loop on each end. Glue one end inside the bottom of the foam tube.

Once hardened, paint the capsules green all over and let dry. Use the bottom wire to hold without getting paint all over yourself, and using the loop, string onto a thin stick and balance it between two items so the capsules can dry freely (for example, I balanced mine on the inside of a lampshade)

Once mostly dry, glue the fringe around the bottom of the capsule.

Fold the petals in half at an angle, with a bit of glue in the fold, and then glue the petals to the bottom of the capsule

If you only have single face (instead of both sides being shiny, one is dull) twist the fabric so one side has two shiny petals and one side has two dull petals before you fold and glue them.

[anpingdongmingwiremesh]

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Email: sales@wiremeshdm.com

Address: Industrial Park, Anping, Hebei, China 053600

[msnogood]

Pocket-sized Teddy Bear

A little miniature teddy bear made with sweatshirt fabric scrap, threads, some beads, and sewing pins!

It came out looking like a combo of Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox and Bad Bob from Rex the Runt. Both are my favoritest animation so I’m quite chuffed with it. Also it has good hand-feel.

Keep reading to see the process!

Materials:

Sweatshirt fabric (another odd scrap from a gift bag from some random online purchase)

Sewing threads

1 small black bead for the nose

2 white glass beads for the eyes*

2 metal head sewing pins for the eyes*

Black paint marker for the eyes*

Poly fill

Awe, or a toothpick

* Alternatively just use 2 larger black beads for eyes

Tools:

Sewing needle

Scissors

Wire cutter

2 nose-tipped pliers

To make the bear:

Cut out a piece of body.

Sew it onto another piece of fabric with back-stitch. Then cut out my excess fabric. Make sure the desired fabric side are facing towards each other on the inside when you sew. Leave a gap on its head.

Flip the body inside out. You can use a toothpick or something similar to help with flipping the limbs.

Sew a nose. Flip it inside out.

Sew it on the bear face with ladder stitch. Then stuff it with polyfill.

Sew on black bead for the nose tip.

Add some optional buns on the back by making one single long stitch from the bottom to the tip of bun, then tightening the thread, and knot it back at the bottom. Make sure to grab some polyfill through the stitch to make your bear buns plump.

Paint the heads of the 2 sewing pins with black paint markers. Give it half a day to completely dry. Plush each of them through a white bead. Then use pliers to slowly create a loop on the back of each bead so they become a sort of buttons. Cut the end of the pins with wire cutter.

Gently create 2 holes where the eye should be with the awe or toothpick, without cutting the fabric. Just push the fabric around to make one of its hole bigger and bigger. Big enough to allow you to shove the back loop of your eyeballs through the fabric.

Once the 2 eyeball back loops are pushed through the fabric, tie them with each other with some threads. Make sure it’s just tight enough so the eyes won’t fall out but lose enough so they aren’t squeezed together and distorting the face.

Close up the head gap with ladder-stitch.

Sew 2 ears with back-stitch. Flip them inside out.

Sew them onto bear head with ladder-stitch.

And you have yourself a mini teddy bear plushie!

[pixiemage]

My Fate Is In Your Hands - Entry 4

[ Entry List ]

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[A/N: This is a story entirely guided by you guys, by the readers. Be sure to vote at the end of each entry! ALSO, if you'd like to be added the tag list, please let me know and I'll be sure to add you next time!]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

➤ Right? Left? Unclear! It’s a tie!

Jimmy can’t make up his mind and stands there in the actively burning ship like an indecisive fool. He stays there for SO long that the fire overcomes the part of the ship he's in and a piece of heavy metal interior panelling dislodges and falls on his head, squashing him instantly. He respawns in the Sheriff's office in a panic and has to make the trip all the way back to the spaceship, by which time he's beginning to wonder if he should have just asked Pixl for help instead. Hopefully the pilot survives without him! :D

[...just kidding. But honestly, you’re lucky I love you. I’ll give you the better option despite the tie, as a treat. I might not be so kind next time!😉]

➤ Right

Jimmy turns right and clambers over rubble, ducking under hanging hoses and wires and being ever-mindful of his wings. He’s not sure where the cockpit is exactly, but he’s fairly sure he’s going in the right direction. Before long he’s rewarded for his quick deduction work when he comes across a damaged door. It’s just as white as the rest of the ship with a red stripe running across it, and it’s jammed halfway open by debris and fallen supplies from a nearby storage locker. It takes a few minutes to try and clear the mess, and a bit of brute strength with the pickaxe from his inventory for Jimmy to pry the door open far enough for him to get inside.

The cockpit. He guessed correctly after all.

The cockpit is in just as much ruin as the rest of the ship. Sparks fall from torn wires in the ceiling, and the control panel is missing a large chunk off its right side. The front window is shattered and broken glass litters the ground like ice crystals. There’s a lone sturdy chair mounted in the center of the small space…and though Jimmy had expected to find the pilot there, that’s not the case. There are unfastened buckled straps hanging free from the seat, and Jimmy almost wonders if the pilot had gotten out of their own accord…

Jimmy's eyes fly wide and his breath hitches as something catches his eye in the corner of the room. There’s a person. There, half-buried beneath rubble and too close to fire for Jimmy’s liking, is a person. Someone in a white soot-tarnished spacesuit is trapped and seemingly unconscious in the corner of the cockpit, and the moment Jimmy spots them his pulse skyrockets. Oh gods.

He darts forward in an instant, keeping low to avoid the growing smoke, and he begins prying heavy panels of metal and tangles of other debris off the stranger on the ground as carefully as he can. He has to cut away a few cables with his pocketknife to finally pull them free, and the moment they are Jimmy loops his arms around their torso, all but dragging them out of the rest of the mess to the only clear spot he can find in the tiny room. He moves quickly, almost frantically, rolling the stranger onto their back to check for vitals.

Their helmet is broken. His helmet is broken, Jimmy realizes, eyeing the pale face behind the broken glass with ever-mounting concern. The man he's looking at has narrow, pointed features and he looks human enough, though Jimmy has had enough experience with human-ish people on the Empires server to take that observation with a grain of salt.

(And the man had crash-landed out of the sky in a spaceship of all things, so for all Jimmy knows, he could be an alien. He shoves the thought aside to ponder later.)

More importantly, it looks like some of the glass from the helmet caught the pilot's face on impact, tiny cuts just barely bleeding...though there could be more he can't see. It’s difficult to know how extensive the damage from the crash is while the man is sealed in his spacesuit, but moving him without checking first could do more damage. Jimmy squares his jaw and takes a breath. He can't waste time. He has to make a choice, and fast.

He could pull the astronaut from the wreckage first, injuries be damned. The fire is still roaring around them, and though the cockpit seems stable for now, Jimmy isn’t sure how long that could last. But at the same time, the fire isn’t spreading fast, and he can’t possibly know how injured the pilot really is without taking the time to check. Trying to haul him out of the ship without stabilizing injuries first might make them worse…and might even cause the astronaut to respawn. (If he even can respawn. It’s a painful thought.)

Jimmy’s fingers fidget at the helmet’s seal, pondering whether he should be taking it off yet or not.

Does he stay or does he go?

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[moonlightpaladin]

So... Au Ra and earrings. They wear them in-game, obviously.

But how? Do they have modified earrings that loop over the horn? Maybe leather cords to tie them in place like decorative pendants? Do they drill holes in their horns to put earring hooks into?

Leaning towards the latter if only because that sounds the most aesthetically pleasing solution if I was to draw it. But that just brings up more questions about how Au Ra horns function, what they're made of, if there's sensation and how much, etc etc

Wire decorations would be pretty cool though. Like, wire wrapping jewelry? Decorate the whole horn, no drilling required, and it can act similarly to a charm bracelet. Put whatever you want on it as long as each "charm" allows it!

Might've answered my own question there, but I'd love to hear others' thoughts and/or see their Au Ra's :)

[crochetedblorbos]

"Closure's for movies, mate. All we get are manky holes."

Character Name: Alice Dyer

Fandom: The Magnus Protocol [Podcast]

Voiced By: Billie Hindle

Yarn Used: Sandals: CraftSmart Value - Coffee Skin: CraftSmart Value - Peach Leggings: CraftSmart Value - Ivy Tunic: CraftSmart Value - Turquoise Mint Hair: CraftSmart Value - Curry Stripe: CraftSmart Value - Purple Mouth: Loops & Threads Soft Classic - Neon Pink Glasses: Ashland 12 Gauge Decorative Wire - Gold + Aunt Lydia’s Crochet Cotton - Wasabi

Basic pattern here.

Look. You can’t NOT love Alice. It’s basically illegal. She’ll be the first to tell you so, actually. I didn’t expect to love her as much as I do, let alone for her to be the first Protocol character I crocheted, but here we are. I’m working my ass off to get her done before the next mid-season hiatus, but we’ll see; I’m writing this paragraph after having only finished the first leg. Goddamn does she need a hug, though. [Crafter’s note: Not only did I finish her in time for the public release of Episode 20, I finished her in time for Pride Night at the local ballpark, so go me.]

I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to do her, actually; the podcast is still relatively new and we don’t know anything about her physically other than that she’s trans, so I’m still getting an idea in my head for how she looks. Or I thought I was. But as I crocheted, a design…emerged. She differs from the base pattern as follows:

Shoes: I decided to give Alice sandals. (Was I thinking of a clip I saw from an old game of Super Password where the clue someone gave was “those ugly shoes that lesbians wear” and the other person immediately got that the answer was “Birkenstocks”? Mmmmaybe.) They…didn’t turn out necessarily as well as I’d hoped, but they work. Sort of. Anyway, I stitched two stitches in the brown on either side of the toe, then at the top of the foot did an ankle strap to tie it all together. Should have given her painted toenails, in retrospect, but eh…

Leggings: Alice’s attire could go two ways, in my mind. She could wear neat, tailored, neutral-colored business attire at all opportunities, or she could be an OH THANK GOD THERE ARE ACTUAL COLOR OPTIONS IN MY CLOTHING kind of trans woman, and frankly I crochet enough neutral business suits. Besides, she very much gives off “what are you gonna do, fire me?” vibes, so she’s not going to worry about if there’s a dress code in the office. So, bright green leggings! I gave her a row of skin between the ankles and the leggings, but other than that they’re done exactly like Joseph’s pants.

Tunic: Okay, it’s somewhere between a tunic and a dress, but whatever. I did R36 in the front loops of R35, then R37 in the back loops of R36, then continued the same as normal for the upper torso. I did give her a little bit of a V-neck in the last couple rounds. The hem was done as follows: R1: Join yarn to middle back of R36, ch 1, sc in each front loop around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R2-3: Ch 1, [sc in first 6 st, hdc in next st, dc in next st, trc in next st, dtrc in next st, trc in next st, dc in next st, hdc in next st, sc in next 5 st] 2 times, sl st in first sc (22 sc, 4 hdc, 4 dc, 4 trc, 2 dtrc). R4: Ch 1, sc in first 9 st, hdc in next st, sc in next 17 st, hdc in next st, sc in next 8 st, sl st in first sc (34 sc, 2 hdc). R5: [Sl st in first 9 st, ch 1, dc in next st, ch 1, sl st in next 7 st] 2 times. Fasten off.

Head: I caved. I didn’t want to bother with the fur stitch, so instead I just stitched her scalp on as normal and then went back and used the loop method to hook in individual colors. On the other hand, doing it that way meant I could give her some funky stripes in her hair, so I gave her a purple streak because why the fuck not. I also gave her ears so her glasses would stay on. Basically, I did two chains on either side of the head to anchor them, then did three hdcs in each ch, then sl st the outside edges and joined the lobes to the head. (Also, just as a side note - the mouth is technically the same yarn as the rest of Alice; it’s the Michaels store brand, essentially. They rebranded their yarn a couple months back.)

Arms: I was trying to give her bell sleeves, but I don’t think they turned out quite the way I had them in mind. Anyway, I worked her arms in the skin color up to R12, then switched to the tunic color and did R13 in front loops only, R14 in back loops only, and continued up the arm. Once they were done, I went back to R13, joined the yarn back onto the loop, and: R1: Ch 1, sc in front loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (12 sc). R2: Ch 1, sc in first 2 st, hdc in next 2 st, dc in next 4 st, hdc in next 2 st, sc in next 2 st, sl st in first sc (4 sc, 4 hdc, 4 dc). R3: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (12 sc).

Glasses: They’re…wobblier than I would have liked, but that’s just because I was working with the wire for the first time and I kinda cut it shorter than I should have. (I wanted them to be square.) Anyway, I had skimmed a book of various doll parts that I will likely be obtaining at some point (it had a pattern for a wheelchair in it even!), and its suggestion for glasses was to make them out of wire and then wrap them in embroidery floss. I’m not sure what happened to my embroidery floss, but I have lots and lots of crochet thread handy leftover from last year’s still unfinished whoops shut up temperature blanket, so I grabbed one at random. It happened to be Wasabi, so Alice has green glasses and y’all are just going to have to live with that.

[underlockv]

I recently made a gift for Hocus' birthday and I forgot to post about it here until now! Behold, The Unofficial Unlicensed Talking Magnetic Karl Heisenberg Plush!

More pics and info under the cut!

I've made dolls like this in the past, and had a pattern for it, but this project took me a while. Partially as he was hand sewn (and hand embroidered) and I have a mild hand tremor, partially because I kept adding stuff to him and making him more detailed as I went along (so much so he was late for birthday, sorry Hocus!) but I'm glad Hocus likes him thats the most important part! He wasn't entirely a surprise because I had said I wanted to make him for them, but I think maybe they weren't expecting how overboard I went on the project (nor was I! I just kept having ideas).

I really wanted to be able to make an alternate outfit for Karl based on a fanfic my friend wrote so I made a base doll body and then made Karl's clothes with a bunch of little buttons and snaps. The shirt buttons are decorative (made of sculpey, I couldn't find small enough regular ones) and it has a hook and loop (velcro) tab on the inside. The pants are a combo of this and some snaps. The belt has snaps but technically works like a real belt and then the undershirt also has snaps as do the "boots". His necklace accessories (sculpey, wire, paint) just tie on and off loosely with strings of embroidery thread. The hat has a cardboard/maskingtape base for shape and just an eyeballed-pattern sewn around it (I think it turned out nice!)

(this is prior to me adding his scars in embroidery thread).

The Glasses though are attached with his second feature

I knew I wanted to add some semi powerful magnets to his hands so he could pick up metal objects because that just MAKES SENSE with Karl's powers. I also made him his hammer (paper mache, paint and sculpey again) and added in a magnet to it's handle (as I wasn't working with actual metal for it lol, but I forgot to photograph it before I sent him off) . But in the process of doing that I realized if I attached some magnets on the inside of his head I could also make glasses that snap on and off, and that solved the issue of them staying in place.

Third feature: HE TALKS! Yes, just as advertised on the box if you squeeze him he says a voice line. Just one voice line really, but it's a long one. I'd argue it's probably the most important line he says in the game that really decides his fate with our protagonist (not in his favour, unfortunately). I used a voice recorder for plush toys that allows up to 20 second recordings. one of the unlisted features is there is a zipper on his back so they can take the recorder out for battery replacement, or to rerecord the message if desired.

POV: you're about to go in the hole (I only took a vid for this in the middle stage lmao). The last part of the manual goes over the alternate outfit and then includes a personal message for Hocus I won't show here. The alt outfit, is like I said before, based on a fanfic. But it's actually the unpublished portion of Hocus' long running fic series so its technically SPOILERS. I may post about it later because I actually tea-dyed fabric while making it and it was a more involved process than expected lmao. I hope you enjoyed reading about all the details of this ridiculous project! Oh! btw the box is actually the box the Chris statue came in for the RE8 collector edition. I bought it a few months ago from ebay (found a good deal!), and inspiration struck when I realized I still had it so thats why Karl got an official looking unofficial box lmao. I just cut chris' face off it for the window haha.