#Step-by-Step Sewing Guide

[anielskaaniela]

How to Sew Own Clothes for Beginners - Free Sewing Patterns

In this post, you will learn how to sew own clothes as beginner. Love what you see ? Support me by snagging some cool items from my shop! Every purchase helps me bring you more awesome content. Thank you! Shop Now Why Sew Your Own Clothes? Sewing your own clothes is a fantastic way to express your personal preferences and style. It offers the freedom to create unique pieces that fit you…

[kingdom-falls]

Ah the wonders of bag lining

[ozzgin]

Thinking about the human adoption agency for monsters as I was struck with silly ideas. Courtesy of 👘 anon. content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

"Congratulations, you've been adopted!"

You blinked, slowly, trying to process the words you'd just heard. You were a grown adult with a living set of parents. What exactly was going on?

The agent rushed you in his office, handing you the stack of documents. You’d been given away to a generous monster patron.

Your attempts to protest were cheerfully dismissed, as he guided your hand for signature after signature; then, he nonchalantly ushered you back outside, where an enormous beast was waiting for you.

Dear Lord, you thought, were you being trafficked? Purchased as some sort of sex slave at the mercy of this creature’s depraved needs? Or maybe he was looking for the main fresh ingredient to finish his dinner stew.

Nonetheless, you stepped hesitantly inside the monster’s home, eyeing his figure with suspicion. Truly a fiend from Hell, you concluded at the time.

The main desk was covered in piles of fabric. Buried underneath was an older sewing machine. From the walls clung hangers and fancy garments that seemed to be made for inhuman wearers.

In truth - you soon learned - you’d been tasked to act as the emotional support human to the poor creature. He was a famous seamster, you see, but he was cripplingly shy and deplorably anxious around other monsters.

Thus, you now find yourself smiling and nodding at the latest client, holding your owner’s enormous hand reassuringly. It’s alright, you’ll do the talking. He grins at you, exhaling in relief. Thank God you’re here. His little human to soothe the aching heart.

[More Monsters]

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

Lone Warrior

summary : reader is put into emergency foster care after a tragedy , despite living with the Wayne family for a bit , reader takes it upon herself to move away and start anew since she clearly wasn't welcomed , after many years have passed Damian finally joins the family and after a particular spat w his father he finds himself in reader's room and an interest in them has sparked.

a/n : this story is a wip ( work in process )

part 2 , part 3

Reader's POV

Beginning

Everyone knows biologically , a child needs a father and mother to come into existence . Growing up I had exactly that , a mother and a father . I had what many would consider a good childhood , a mom who brushed my hair everyday before I went to school , a mother who would have prepared meals and would have read me several stories . I had a father who would pick me up everyday and let me get a treat from the nearby parlor everyday after school. We certainly weren’t rich but we had enough to make do and I was content with it - I was content with my life until life struck.

My mother got laid off from her job - it was some run down mill cashier job at an old mechanics pit stop but it brought in money no matter how grimy the place was . I remember my younger self sat in front of the television when it was broadcasted - Joker , Prince of Gotham held three hostages at gunpoint in the shops and sadly despite Batman’s efforts , one hostage suffered a car falling onto their legs - crushing them instantly - the news anchor panned their camera onto the car and how it’s green front bumper was smeared in crimson blood.

Since then mom had been home while father went to work . It was fun at first , we had dinner earlier than usual , mom started back sewing and she even took up gardening since she loved planting tomatoes in our backyard garden . Everything was good but gradually - mom began feeling trapped like a bird in a cage . It started off slow - mum and dad arguing every night after dinner , sneering at each other as they walked past one another . It evolved into dad sleeping on the couch and mom sleeping in their bed . I was young and too naive - I assumed like the silly little girl I was , that mum and dad were just arguing about the dishes in the sink.

One day, it got extremely bad. It was a Tuesday morning and I had ran into mum’s arm’s , comb in hand, waiting for her to brush my hair like every other morning but instead she screamed at me to get out of her face . I ran away, of course, crying and brushing my own hair since then. Every day since that point had been utter agony - mother grew even more distant - began shouting , screaming at everything and everybody .Every day was a new struggle , she had no luck finding a new job, and there was no luck of her getting any better .

One day , dad just hugged me before he left out the front door . He kept muttering ‘sorrys’ and ‘i love yous’ and he kept weeping . I recall hugging him back , telling him it was okay, and he just smiled at me and left . He hadn't come back since. Mother grew furious that night, and for the first time - she screamed at me , blamed me , cursed me , cried about how I ruined everything, and then she choked me . I remember my young , frail body clawing at her tight grip desperately - pleading with her to let me go, but she didn’t let up . She kept squeezing me, and I remember going in between conscious and unconsciousness - I remember hearing police sirens blazing in front of our house.

I don't remember anything after that point . Memories were all a blur, but I recall a police officer handing me off to Mr. Wayne at his porch step. I remember the look of uncertainty, the look of pain and burden flashing in his eyes when he looked down on me . I remember him holding me by my elbow and guiding me through his foyer until he reached his butler.

I watched them both converse , the butler glanced at me every other moment. Eventually , Mr. Wayne leaves me alone with the butler and returns deeper into the mansion. The butler smiles down at me, though, and I just looked at him as he guides me down some halls and into a room.

It's been a full week , I've only ever known my room , the garden, and school. I haven't met anyone besides Alfred - the butler and my teachers. Alfred kept assuring me that I had brothers who would love to meet me and that my 'dad' , Mr.Wayne was busy, so I should bear him patience.

I hadn't really cared about Mr. Wayne's absence , as far as I considered my father, was out there somewhere and had left me, and I had no interest in having siblings. I hadn't told Alfred any of that, though - I had been silent since I had arrived here . Two weeks passed, and Alfred introduced me to someone named 'Ricard' , Mr. Wayne's eldest .

This Richard had given me a tight-lipped smile and a half hug that I didn't reciprocate . I could tell he felt uncomfortable and forced, and I respected his boundaries because I would of reacted the same way if I got introduced to my new supposed 'sibling' .

Alfred had told me that Richard lives away and visits when he can since he too has work . Since then, I haven't met anyone . Maybe if you count seeing Mr. Wayne walking in and out the foyer then maybe .

Months passed, and it's been the same process - I wake up , scarf down whatever Alfred makes , go to school , come home , sleep, and repeat. Now and again, Richard may perhaps drop by, but our meeting were just exchanging pleasantries before we go our own ways.

I was still mourning my parents. It's weird to mourn when they aren't dead. Today I had I.T class , meaning I had access to a laptop . Using what minimum sites I could , I dug up that my mother was admitted to Arkham asylum and was deemed ' mentally unstable ' . It's weird seeing her in that old , grimy straight jacket and her worn hands in silver cuffs . It's weird that she is the same person who used to bake me fresh cookies when I was sad and used to so attentively braid my hair everyday - It's weird to know that somehow my pure , kind mother somehow turned into what she is.

I hadn't found out nothing about my father - reports just suggested he moved to another city or somewhat - some speculated he manipulated her into the abuse - but I knew my father went far away to start a new life - a new life that hadn't involve me .

It stings every time I think about that, though , that my dad thought I was so much of a burden he had to leave me to start anew . A part of me loathes him - wants to tear him out , another part of me wants to cry and scream ' how could he ', but the biggest part of me has already grown numb to everything around me and has accepted the fact that it's better off being on your own.

Months continue to pass on - nothing really changed , I haven't 'bonded' with anyone at the mansion , Alfred keeps making excuses for their wariness and coldness. I discovered through him that recently, one of Mr.Wayne's children , Jason, had recently passed due to a mishap with the Joker . He hadn't gone into full detail, but I understood the pain and grief - the pain of losing your loved ones and having to bury them.

Days blurred into one another, but as recently, I have been seeing advertisements for a youth camp. It's new to be supposedly based in Russia and aims to teach children survival skills, and for some odd reason, it called out to me . I became further intrigued when on one particular evening , my English teacher pulled me across after class and handed me a pamphlet for it , I remembered her saying " I thought ...maybe you can use this Y/N maybe they can help you " . I remember taking it home and staring at it for a good while.

That same day - apparently we got a new member to the family named Tim , I saw him walk in the foyer , Mr. Wayne's hands practically draped over his shoulder with a proud 'dad' smile on his face . I exchanged pleasantries with both, but the Tim guy was giving me a dirty look .

After that night , after careful consideration, I decided to join this youth camp but in order to do so I would of course need money so that very nigh I applied to some jobs . A week passed since Tim and I didn't really get along . He kept glaring at me, and I just kept ignoring him .

Apparently he didn't like that and one morning when I was leaving for school he pulled me across and with a nasty snare said , " can't believe Bruce and I bust our asses every night protecting the city and people like you get to squander away - you know for someone who uses so much of Bruce's resources I don't understand why he hasn't gotten rid of you ".

I slapped him in response and walked out - I won't and don't tolerate shit - especially from someone so far up their ass . Alfred walked in on us in the foyer and began lecturing me on the spot, but I had a cold, hard look - challenging him . Alfred just tutted and carried us both to school.

Yes - apparently, this Tim person goes to the same school as me, and I had to listen to him nag Alfred about it on the way there . I rolled my eyes - seriously, he sounds like an entitled brat . Alfred dropped us off . The moment Tim stepped foot in school lots of kids approached him - probably because it was publicly known he was a Wayne , I on the other hand wasn't- hell I didn't even take his name I still kept my father's surname .

I left him and continued my day like normal, and after school, I went to my waitress job on the block. It's a quaint little cafe waitress job . It was nice and had good pay, so I wasn't too bothered. Of course, a week into my job and Tim had to already cause a scene .

The brat had to walk in with his group of little friends and had the audacity to demand I get them a table . I sat them down, took everyone's orders, and this man had to order some complicated shit with absurd add ins. Why order expresso and complain it's too bitter ?? Why order no flat decaf when decaf is already flat ? Why , when I explain to you , you snare at me .

The brat even had the audacity to say ' I was embarrassing the family by working here ' . I stepped on his foot, causing him to flinch and whispered to him , " Frankly I don't give a fuck what you or anyone thinks or has to say - you can frankly kiss my ass and see if I could care " and walked off .

He didn't leave a tip sadly and walked out of there with a nasty glare . I came home that evening and met Alfred, leaving out my dinner in my room , " Master Wayne restricts you joining dinner tonight since you are behaving too violent." I just gave him a look . For one pathetic of Tim to tattle to Daddy darest - another many reasons why I don't want siblings and secondly I've never joined anyone at dinner , I live and breathe in this room and unless the mansion is burning down I won't leave it to go anywhere unnecessary.

Months like this pass , Tim and I glaring at each other. Occasionally, Richard stops by to check on Mr. Wayne, or simply hang out with Tim and I was steadily saving money to go to this youth camp.

On my final day , I paid off for the youth camp registry and began packing my things - I simply began packing my clothes , I left behind any things deemed unnecessary like my record players , little nicks and knacks friends gifted me , the very painful photos of my parents and I and the home sewn clothes I once made in tech Ed.

Everything held very little value to me here , especially since I wanted a fresh start there . I packed my bags that night and left without a trace. Downtown Gotham was dangerous but had useful people for the wrong things. I carefully knocked on a banged up door and waited .

I heard a latch move itself and a wrinkly , obese man peers through at me . " What you want, kid?" he grunted . " A passport and a straightway ticket to Russia tonight," I say monotonous. He stared at me for a moment and left . Moments pass and he returns and slips me a passport and a ticket . I let our a small grun before slipping a $100 dollar bill in the latch before taking off in the night.

Training

Russia was cold - but for some odd , maybe sick and twisted way, I loved it . I loved the feeling of the cold nipping at my fingertips , I love the ghostly feeling when the cold air blows in you and I love the way it makes me feel alive .

The youth camp was a successful idea - marvelous even . Though many in my unit complained about how strenuous the training was , I enjoyed it . Every morning , from 4 am to 6 am , our mentors took us on a two hour long jog in the snowy forest of Cheremkhovsky .

It was hard at first , I had literally fainted on my first go, but as I eased into this , it became easier . After that jog , we had breakfast, and then we trained in our combat , hand to hand , handling weaponry such as guns and knives, etc.

My mentor , Kerry Lenz, took me under her wing when I joined . She saw my raw potential, my greedy need to feel alive and belonging . She had practically made me into what I am , a trained assassin .

While most of my peers were asleep in the dead of night , she took me out into the forest , regardless of whether it was snowing , raining, or a massive heatwave . There, under the start nights, she taught me the art of murder , she taught me how to effectively hide a body in plain sight and taught me how to read a person thoroughly , taught me how to stalk a prey and how to notice the tiniest details no matter how absurd .

She taught me like a mother hen would to her chick, and it made us closer. I came here to Russia at fourteen, and now here I am, graduating at eighteen into Russia's CIA program.

She kissed both of my cheeks that day and hugged me, and for once , I reciprocated it . " My beautiful rose , be the strong daring girl I taught you to be," She sobbed into my shirt . I smiled and hugged her , my eyes brimming with tears as I nuzzle into her shirt - her smell of rose scented perfume and Columbian cigar wafted into my nose .

" I promise to be that strong girl , mom," I promised her that day . She smiled at me and patted my shoulder . " hun , this life is a life you can't back away from , it digs its claws into you and keeps you hostage, promise me , you would not deter."

I nodded into her and tightened my hold on her . Since my graduation , I , out of the twenty five candidates at the youth camp , graduated into Russia's CIA task force . Our missions were never easy , every one we face the brutality of human nature - from sex traffic rings , child predators , serial killers to huge organizations abusing civilians , we were tasked to handle them all.

Every mission had its difficulty, a loss albeit one of our own or a victim, or maybe it's the mind-numbing pain of killing . Every mission had its fair share of shit but that didn't deter me one bit - I loved my job - I lived knowing that when I killed another child predator that I saved another child.

What's the use of arresting them in a system we're they are bound to be free and face no repercussions? Doing this job made me look at persons like Batman and his folk and a bit differently - he knowingly puts people like the Joker back into the Arkham asylum, knowing they'd break out and wreck havoc again.

Damian's p.o.v

If anyone told me that I of all people would feel out of place I would laugh at you . For my whole entire life - I've been a man sure of everything - down to the nitty things - I've been sure of everything.

I knew what I liked to eat , what shirt I wore with its specific pants , what show I like to watch , knew for certainty I wanted to be Robin but here - in this family I'm at a loss.

I'm always cleft confused and rather frustrated . My father's eldest , Dick , keeps lecturing me about how 'violent' my ways are , how I'm not suited to be Robin , that Robin is not 'violent'.

How is a boy supposed to believe the methods he's had instilled in him from birth are considered wrong - considered too orthodox. We both always argue - he always pushes me to my wits end . Today, though - today, he took it a notch further .

Today he involved father in our spat . It was a simple situation - a simple stake-out , a robbery being done in some small local supermarket , the robber noticed us before we noticed them and took off running and I had simply launched a batrang into his leg to stop him.

It led to the robber bleeding out in the road and almost dying, but wasn't the objective met ? Father and Dick seemed to think otherwise considering I was berated for it for fifteen minutes straight.

But what got me was when dick said , " You're a monster like your mother." I literally launched myself at him - almost prying out his eyes but father managed to pull me off and send me off to my room with a glare.

I didn't go to my room - I was far too angry, so I just roamed around the mansion . I have never been to this side of the mansion - to be fair, I don't even think Alfred ventures down here, but somehow - the quiet halls bring a bit of peace to me .

I walked down a hall and stopped at a door left abit ajar - weird I thought all doors in this house automatically closed . Approaching it , I carefully opened the door and peer in , inside - inside looked like a bedroom.

The bed looked like it was purposely shoved up against the window , it only had two pillows but frankly sat plush in-between them was a small plushie of a penguin. The room held minimum decor - whoever lived here may have been a minimalist or has long since moved on .

It had a quaint dark oak desk covered in dust and had several stacks of books that looked well used . Next to it was a wardrobe in matching oak that had a red,very worn , backpack hung on it's round handle . The room had a vanity , a cute miniature white one that every little girl must dream off , it held a simple comb and hair ties in a singular cup but the mirror was covered in old polaraid pictures.

So someone definitely lived here - but who ? I've seen Dick's room , even though he isn't here often Alfred cleans it and he has those stupid posters all over , it can't be Tim's either because his room is all dark and has a bunch of clothes strewn around , it's clearly a girl's so Cassandra? No she's too neat for this - steph ? No , I remember her decorating her room with pink frilly ribbons last Christmas- Jason? - no so then who -

" I see you've come across y/n's room " comes a sudden voice behind me . Turning around , I am met with Alfred, who looks around the room so - so sullen ? " Pennyworth, why such a cres- fallen face ?" I enquire . Alfred looks everywhere but me .

" This is y/n's bedroom " he says as he steps in. " y/n ?" I ask perplexed - father - hell no one has mentioned y/n to me ever .

ty for reading !!!

incorrect quotes

[kiwisoap]

How to Make Your Own Binder that Fits Well and Looks Good

A while back I was in need of some new binders and thought hey, I bet I can make one way cheaper than buying it from somewhere (especially cus some of the ones I’ve bought in the past didn’t really fit right). Except when I started looking for a binder patterns online, I was very surprised that I really… couldn’t find many that looked very nice lol. Most of them had really wrinkled necklines, or didn't bind well, or just overall looked weird. A lot of the patterns also required a serger, which I don't have.

So I just said fuck it and made my own pattern! And it ended up being relatively easy! And the binders fit REALLY WELL and are comfortable to wear, even for long periods. The neckline doesn't show under shirts with loose collars, and the bottom hem doesn't gap or stick out. Here's me wearing one:

(plus I was able to make myself 5 of them for a total of like ~$50.)

So I figured I could throw together a guide to help out anyone else who wanted to make their own binder but was dissatisfied with the patterns available!

Disclaimer: This tutorial is going to assume a baseline level of sewing experience, and also will require access to a sewing machine. It is not a complicated pattern, but it will most likely require some tweaking and adjustments after you make the first one. Don’t be afraid to make alterations to make it fit better!

This tutorial is for a gc2b-style half-tank binder. It could be altered to be a full-tank binder, but all instructions will be for the half-tank design.

Materials needed:

Stretchy fabric, probably listed as 'athletic fabric' (I use this kind from Joann’s. Most athletic stretch fabrics should work, look for around 80% nylon/20% spandex blends)

Stiff fabric (I use this shirting cotton because I like how lightweight it is. If you want something a little stiffer with more structure, you can use a cotton or cotton/poly blend twill like this. gc2b binders use twill for theirs.)

Lightweight fusible interfacing (I use this kind) (get FUSIBLE not sew-in)

Fusible webbing like Pellon Wonder-Web (this is technically optional but it WILL make your life easier when you’re sewing - just make sure to get the kind with the paper backing!!!)

“But kiwisoap thats 4 whole kinds of materials, surely I don’t need that many!” Ok sure, you can probably get by without the fusible web and interfacing, but consider: they are both dirt cheap (im talking like $1-2/yard), they will make it much easier to sew the final product, and will give you an overall better-looking result. This tutorial is written with the assumption that you’ll use them.

"How much fabric will I need?" Measure the circumference of your chest below your armpits. Add 6 inches just to be safe. This is the yardage of stretch fabric you’ll need, and should give you enough material to make at least 3 binders without much excess left over. You will need around half as much stiff fabric.

Other supplies:

Big Paper (for drawing the pattern)

Flexible measuring tape

Sewing machine

Iron

Pins

Step 1: Measuring

You will need 4 main measurements for this pattern.

A) Measure the circumference of your chest just below your armpits, then divide the number in half. This will be the widest part of the pattern.

B) Measure from the top of your shoulder down to where you want the binder to end. For most folks, this will usually be around the natural waist (narrowest part of the torso), about 3-6 inches above the belly button. This will be the overall height of the pattern.

C) Measure the distance from below your armpit to where you want the binder to end. This will determine where the arm hole starts.

D) Measure the circumference of your waist where you want the binder to end, then divide the number in half.

So for example, after dividing A and D in half, my measurements are 17", 15", 7", and 14.5".

Next:

Subtract one inch from measurement A - This will help provide some compression. You might need to take it in even further depending on how it fits, but one inch is a safe starting point. I take mine in around 1.5 inches.

Subtract half an inch from measurement D. This will help prevent the bottom edge of the binder from gapping. Again, you may need to take it in more or less, depending on your own body.

Add 1.5 inches to measurement B and one inch to measurement C. This is to account for the hems and armhole placement.

This makes my final measurements

A = 16"

B = 16.5"

C = 8"

D = 13.5"

From here on out, we are only going to be working with the measurements that we have added/subtracted to, NOT the ones we initially took.

Step 2: Drawing the Pattern

You will need a piece of paper large enough to accommodate the entire pattern. This may involve taping multiple pieces together, or using a piece of newsprint, etc.

I recommend folding the paper in half to ensure that you get a symmetrical pattern. However, this means you will need to divide measurements A and D in half again, or else you’ll end up with a pattern that’s twice as wide as it should be!

Also note: the pattern is drawn with the seam allowance built in! You don’t need to add any seam allowance.

To draw the pattern:

Begin with your folded paper. Measure and mark B and C on the paper, and draw a line extending across the paper. These will be your guidelines.

Measure and mark A and D along the middle and bottom guidelines, respectively. Remember, the paper is folded, so you only use half of the measurement for A and D.

Draw a loose curve connecting the endpoints of A and D. If needed, you can also just draw a straight line between the two.

Mark the opening for the neck hole. Depending on your size, it will measure around 6-8 inches across at the top (remember to divide this in half for the folded paper) and about 5-6.5 inches deep. (mine is 6.5" across and 5.5" deep) Draw a curve to connect the two points. This part will take some tweaking and adjusting to get it to look right lol.

Measure the width of the strap - this should be somewhere between 2.5 - 4 inches wide. They will end up about 1/2” to 3/4” narrower once you sew them. Draw the line at a slight angle, as shown.

Connect the endpoint of the strap to the endpoint of line A with a curve like in the diagram.

This will be the pattern for the front piece.

To make the back piece, trace the front pattern, but make a very shallow curve for the neckline instead of a steep one, as shown:

The last piece is the stiff front panel. This is what provides the flattening effect of the binder. To make the pattern, trace the front pattern again. Trim 3/8” in on the sleeves and neckline, and 3/4” to 1” along the bottom. This gives a flatter hem. Then trim the straps shorter by a few inches. This helps the binder lay flatter along the shoulders.

When you're done, you should have 3 pattern pieces that look approximately like this (stiff panel shown overlaid on the stretch fabric to show how it fits together).

NOTE: If you want more compression or just want to make it a bit sturdier, you can add a second panel of stretch fabric to the back piece. Just use the bottom half of the back pattern (from the widest part down to the bottom hem) to cut out another piece of stretch fabric. Attach it to the back piece with a strip of fusible webbing and a zig-zag stitch along the top.

Step 3: Putting It All Together

Once you’ve made the patterns and cut out the pieces of fabric, you should have something that looks like this:

The next step is adding interfacing and fusible webbing. Use your pattern to cut out 3/8" strips to fit on the top of the straps for both pieces, and to the neckline, sleeves, and bottom hem of the back piece, as shown:

If you want to add it to the bottom hem of the front piece, it will help keep that hem flat when sewing it down later, but it's not essential.

If you choose to also use fusible webbing (WHICH I RECOMMEND), you will apply it to the stiff front panel similarly to how the interfacing was applied, ~3/8” strips along the neckline, sleeves, and top of the straps. Cut out two strips for the neckline and sleeves, because we'll use those later too.

Iron the strips onto the front panel as shown:

Once it's on, just peel off the paper, position it webbing-side down on the stretch fabric, and iron it to fuse the two pieces together so everything stays in place while you sew. THIS MAKES IT WAY EASIER TO SEW.

After the stiff front panel is fused to the stretch fabric, you’ll sew the straps of the front and back pieces together, then join the pieces along the sides. Pin the hell out of it to keep everything in place -this type of material is VERY prone to puckering.

When sewing, USE A ZIGZAG STITCH. A straight stitch will NOT WORK for stretch fabric. I adjust mine to 1.3mm long and 3.5mm wide which has worked well. If your machine doesn’t let you adjust stitch length or width, well. That sucks, I don’t really have any advice.

After you sew the front and back pieces together, you can add more fusible webbing to the front panel to help hold the hem down flat and prevent it from puckering while you sew it. Just add the strip, peel the paper off, then fold the hem over and iron it down. This part isn’t really necessary, but it does make the hems look nicer. If nothing else, I would recommend adding it to the neckline.

After that, you just fold & pin all the hems and sew them up with a zigzag stitch, then go over the raw edge at the top of the stiff panel (where we cut the straps shorter).

And that’s it! You’re done! And now you can make your own binders whenever you want!

And hey! If you used this tutorial and wanna throw me a dollar or two on ko-fi, I wouldn't complain.

[websterss]

THE HAND THAT’S FORCED (1) — ROBERT REYNOLDS

SUMMARY: You hadn't meant to get attached to Bob, much less fall in love with him. You hadn't meant for things to slip out right from underneath your grasp. Out of your control, much like Valentina holding your love for one another over your heads.

WARNING(S): angst, a slur, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death, a bit of a graphic depiction towards the end, Valentina being terrible

WORD COUNT: 2,739

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: Hope you guys like it.

MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

"What is this, Bob?" Yelena was curious as they all watched a new illusion appear before them.

"M-My memories..."

"Whose the girl-"

"J-Just watch." Bob silenced John.

-

"Hi Bob, remember me?" You smile up from your chart.

"You're Y/n." Bob answers.

"Yes, that's me. Would it be alright if I could draw some blood from you today?"

"You're asking." Bob's head remains faced down. You're highly aware of the two former doctors he's turned into shadows right behind you. "The other's never asked..." His brows crease in wonder.

"Well, I...I think we all deserve to be shown some bedside manners. Some respect for our boundaries. You more so than others..." You trail off.

"Do you think you do?" Bob finally raises his head to look at you.

"Do I think I deserve to be shown respect?"

"Mhm."

"I would like to think so."

"Why's that?"

"I haven't given you any reason to believe otherwise. I'm not here to poke and prob you. I don't have ill intentions, Robert."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I like to think we're a bit alike, honestly."

"Alike...you think we're alike?" He releases a dark chuckle.

You nod. "We're both here against our own will." You place the chart beside him. "My reason, albeit in contrast to your own, I'm under contract to see that you succeed in our experiments. Though if I fail...to meet certain requirements." You inhale shakenly. You muster your best smile, though it's far from meeting your eyes. "My family gets killed. So I can't afford to mess up."

"I don't want to be pricked by anyone anymore..." Bob finally admitted.

"I can work around that." You nodded in reassurance. "Needles isn't the only way. There are cotton swabs we could try..."

"But blood is what you need, though, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Blood samples are more effective for the test we want to conduct."

"You got a knife anywhere or a scalpel?"

"What for?" You tense.

"So you can get your blood sample..."

"Oh, yeah, I do!" You scurry around the room in search of something sharp. You instead find a sewing needle, something you found similar to the needles he didn't want anymore. "There's a needle, but I can step out if you want the scalpel."

"That'll work." He gestures it over.

-

"Where are we going?" You peer over your shoulder as Bob guides you into a broom closet. You hold your breath as heavy boots hurry past the door he shoved you both in. You peer at him in curiosity, in wonder as he strains his ear. "Valetina will have my head if she finds us alone-" You gasp as he cups your face. His lips silenced your worries in a matter of seconds. You sigh into the kiss as he backs you up against the metal storage shelves. You raise your hands to rake them through his locks.

"Bob, we can't stay in here-" You push back slightly, only for him to chase the kiss again.

"Shh-"

"Bob, I'm serious we can't risk this-" Your whisper is muffled by another kiss. You go to protest only to see he was quieting you once more with precaution.

"What do you mean you can't find him? Well, where's Dr. Y/L/N? She was the last one to know about his whereabouts?" You both pull back in time to hear and see Valentina's shadow fall below the door. You hold your breath again. "Well, page her now!" You begin to panic as you reach for the device tucked into your scrubs. Before it could emit its alert tone, you feel Bob reach forward and crush it in his hand. "You're all useless!"

-

You had been a former member of the team of scientists that had run tests and experiments on Bob when the team was only at the beginning of their trial runs.

Heavily emphasized as former, when Valentina viewed your empathy towards the man, incompetent to her wretched morals. Your perspective on your team's ethics and your reluctance to keep sticking needles in his veins had guaranteed you your very own enemy. A target on your back if you didn't comply with her wishes.

Bob had grown fond of your sweet nature, having made a friend out of you during your time spent in the lab. That friendship, though, the closeness you garnered, had cost you, cost him your company.

Valentina proposed access to you if he did what was asked of him. He too fell victim to Valentina's manipulation. What small but significant leverage she dangled over your own heads like dogs. You were his demise, as much as he was yours. But you would ensure the safety of one another, go to certain lengths, of what was asked of you to see each other. Then and only then would she bring you up the tower to see him. And she did for what felt like a month's worth of waiting to see him. Though it wasn't like any of the other times she dragged your cuffed hands towards the top floor. Dragging felt like a misconception; she all but shoved you face down onto the ground before Bob's feet. He knelt, brushing the disheveled locks back behind your ears as your fear-stricken gaze met his bewildered one.

This wasn't like your regular visits.

"Your lip?" Bob pointed out. It was busted.

"Bob, don't listen to her-" He helped you onto your feet before the clock of a gun triggered his fight or flight.

You turned cautiously towards Valentina, who directed the end of her pistol right onto you. Bob shoved you behind him, his hands out before him as though to tame a wild beast, in your case, Valentina, who always felt like the devil incarnate.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you two...I'm gonna send some people your way, Bob, and you are gonna deal with them for me, cause I'm getting real tired of having to put up with them. If you don't comply. I'm gonna shoot her dead. Right here." Valentina grinned, thumping her forehead with the butt of her weapon for her example. "And you'll never see her again. Though to be honest, I should have shot her the second she got attached to you. I'd have shot you too, but this won't do shit I'm afraid." Valentina sighed, tired of over-explaining herself. "You just had to go and let your heart win." Valentina glanced at you over his shoulder. Your face was reminiscent of a lost child, scared. Fearing the unknown. Like, where did your future lie in her hands?

"You broke your contract, you little bitch. What was the one thing I asked of you?"

"To not get-"

"What was that?" Valentina turned her face, cupping a hand behind her ear to mock you. "Oh, that's right, to not get attached, to not make a connection. Now look at you." She feigned a gag of disgust towards you both. "I hope you've been smart enough to keep your legs shut. Otherwise, that's a whole other problem that I don't have time for." Though the faint dread that crossed your face had her paling at the sudden realization. "Oh...you didn't, please tell me you didn't? When would you two have even found the time?"

"What kind of people?" Bob tried to shift her attention to anything else besides you.

"No, now I'm mad. When the hell did that happen? God, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"N-No." You promised.

"Well, good. At least you weren't stupid enough to conceive a baby of destruction. The press would have a field day with this!"

"What people?" Bob asked again.

"You'll know when they come. Let's go!" Valentina gestured for you to come over with the gun.

"I don't get my hour with her?" Bob circled an arm around you to keep you behind him.

"No."

"I've done everything you've asked of me..." Bob pleaded.

"Your lover hasn't. Why don't you tell him what I found out today? It'll help explain your fault for ending up shoved against the ground. Let him in on why I decided to bust your lip open."

"Y/n?" Bob turned to face you, confusion written across his features. Hoping your truth wasn't some form of disloyalty towards him.

"I tried to..." Your gaze averts Valetina's, feeling the water works begin. "I tried outing her plans...to the public, what they've done to you. The public should know of her cruelty. I tried reaching out to a contact of mine, but he was struck down in the air last I heard, going through therapy and training, so I was on my own. V-Valentina broke into my house this morning."

That explained your pajamas. His gaze shifted to your slippers.

"And that is why we are here today. Maybe I will give you your hour, to remind you of the good I do to allow you both to be together, since both of you comply so well." Just as she said this, her phone rang. Her mood shifted into one of ease and joy. "Ah, I've got to take this. You get an hour." She waved you off. As soon as she entered the elevator and the door closed behind her. Bob broke the cuffs, freeing your trembling hands that now circled around his neck to hide yourself in the nape of his neck.

"Hey, hey, you're with me now. She's gone, we have an hour again." Bob hurried you off to his enclosed case that remained open now. The single mattress on the ground welcomed you. Bob pulled you down with him. His lips colliding with yours in a desperate rush. Valentina hadn't let him see you for a month. Sometimes a month expanding into three, and before he knew it, three months had turned into more if he acted out. That solemn year without you had set him off. He was on his best behavior now, desperate to even catch a glimpse of you if Valentina was in good spirits.

Your tears hadn't stopped even if Bob kept wiping them away. Whatever grief you were withholding had broken your resolve. He could feel it in the way you gently ran your hands through his locks. Foreign to your usual wanting grip.

He'd never coax it out of you like Valentina would. He'd wait, and he'd be patient with you-

"I-I'm pregnant." You choked back a sob amid another kiss.

Bob's breath hitched at the sudden confession. His gaze neutralized as he continued to caress your wet cheeks with his thumbs. His only response in the moment was to kiss you sweetly, then lift the hem of your shirt, just enough to place a faint whisper of a kiss against your stomach.

His words of comfort only being. "I don't want her to use it against me if she finds out."

"She won't find out..." Your eyes space out as Bob reaches up to push back your hair. His gaze settles over your cut on your lip before he cups your jaw as he begins his light descent of kisses.

"If she touches you again. I'll raise hell. No one would be safe."

"It should just be Valentina. What does anyone else have to do with it?"

"I don't think I'd be in the right mental capacity to determine whose good and whose bad. I'd be too angry to try to be coaxed out of seeing any good morals in anyone."

"All because Valentina touched me?" Your heart felt overwhelmed by how deeply he felt about your safety. It warmed you as much as it almost concerned you.

"Because she hurt you." Bob's soft gaze hardened.

-

“That’s Y/n. My love.” Bob tilted his head with a smile as he showed the thunderbolts another memory of you. “I haven’t seen her since this day. I’m lucky enough to get any time with her throughout the month. Y-You guys haven’t seen her, have you? Valentina said she would bring her by today, but she hasn’t come.”

Yelena felt like throwing up at his words. If your discarded self, which she saw in the broom closet, wasn’t enough evidence to indicate your demise, then she hated the idea of telling him where you really were even more.

Yelena turned her gaze to close her eyes. The heaviness weighed down with the guilt that tightened in her throat. You poor thing. You only wanted to be with him, nothing more than wanting to see him again and again. You were innocent, a helpless life that Valentina took.

"You don't think she's done something to her, right?" Yelena looks up this time to find his gaze has settled onto her.

Bob's gaze was solemn yet imploring as he searched Yelena's expression for reassurance. His hands clenched involuntarily, a visible sign of his anxiety and concern. Her silence only fueled his unease, making the air around them feel heavy with suspense.

"Valentina wouldn't. She wouldn't go that far, right?" Even as he asks, the lingering doubt in his voice exposes his inner turmoil.

Yelena knew the truth, and the weight of that knowledge pressed upon her conscience. The guilt churned within her, and she wrestled with the difficult task of finding a way to break the news to Bob.

"No..." Yelena finally replied, shaking her head as her voice was soft and filled with hesitation. "I hope not..."

You're a bad liar, you know? Bob’s voice appeared in her mind.

Yelena's heart sank as she heard him breakthrough her mental walls, the weight of her deception settling heavily on her conscience. She knew her lie had been detected, and the realization hit her with a pang of remorse.

I know. Yelena silently admitted, unable to meet his gaze. The weight of guilt threatened to overwhelm her, knowing she couldn't bring herself to reveal the truth to him. I don't know how long she's been there...

Bob's expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing as he read the guilt in her eyes. He could sense the internal conflict that plagued her conscience, the secrets she was wrestling with. It made his heart ache to witness her torn by the burden of his ignorance.

"You…do you know where she is then?" His words cut through the tension like a knife, his voice a mixture of desperation and urgency.

"Know where who is?" John's confusion was evident in his voice as he looked to Bob for clarification. "No one's said anything?" John and the others looked over to Yelena, who kept looking down at her chipped nail paint.

"He just read my mind...Bob, I'm so sorry, but I found her body in a closet. By the looks of it, it could be the same one you dragged her inside of."

Bob's expression paled as Yelena's words hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind struggled to process the news, the weight of her revelation crashing upon him like a tidal wave.

"W-What...? You're not saying-" His voice trembled as he searched Yelena's face for any indication of falsehood.

"I do think Valentina would go that far, and she has."

Bob's emotions flared, a mixture of anger, despair, and disbelief swirling within him. The revelation that Valentina had gone to such extremes struck a chord deep within him.

"Damn it!" The outburst escaped his lips like a strangled cry, his fist clenched tightly as he struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality. "How?" He stopped to glare at her. "How'd she leave her?"

"Knowing won't change any-"

"Tell me!" Bob's voice rose. An echo of darkness mixed with grief, his emotions on the edge of uncontrollable. He was demanding answers, desperate for anything that could help him piece together your tragedy. “Just tell me.”

"T-There was bruising around her neck-" Yelena shook her head, not wanting to think about the state she found you in. "Her face was beaten..." Yelena's shoulders fell. She shook her head at Bob. "It looked intentional. Like it was done out of spite. If she fought back, I don’t think she stood a chance. I'm so sorry, Bob." Yelena's voice cracked.

Bob's world shattered around him as Yelena's words painted a haunting picture of your fate. He couldn't bear the thought of you gone. His anger flared, mixing with a profound heartache, as he processed the cruelty inflicted upon you.

"Out of spite…" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought of someone, particularly Valentina, intentionally causing you such pain made his blood boil.

[cassiefairy]

Easy sewing project to upcycle old Christmas jumpers into festive cushions

When your favourite festive jumper gets felted in the wash, don’t despair! Why not turn it into a cosy cushion for Christmas? Here's a handy guide to sew your own festive jumper pillows:

When my favourite pullover got a big hole in it, I decided to use the fair isle design as the front panel for a scatter cushion to dress up my sofa for the festive period, using a pillowcase (that I’d accidentally burnt with an iron!) as the backing. That was my first attempt at upcycling a Christmas jumper into a cosy cushion and I loved making it. I’ve since had a few other festive knits that…

[emperordinozenmon]

Celebration

A little something for y'all

Cube’s end-of-the-year party was a bizarre event shrouded in mystery, a legend whispered about in hushed voices among trainees and industry insiders. No one outside its invite list had ever confirmed what went on inside, but that didn’t stop the rumors from spreading like wildfire.

Your friend group had spent years speculating, each person pitching their own wildly different theory. You leaned toward the idea that it was some kind of exclusive, over-the-top karaoke party where idols got blackout drunk and embarrassed themselves in front of their seniors. Nathan suggested a big aphrodisiac induced orgy where idols and staff let off steam and fucked rapaciously. Danny swore up and down that it was a cosplay event, where the biggest names in K-pop dressed up as anime characters and took part in elaborate skits. And Q—well, Q liked to claim it was an annual ritual sacrifice, though whether he actually believed that or was just being Q was anyone’s guess.

It had always been harmless fun, something to gossip about late at night when you were all exhausted from work and just hanging out and needed a distraction. Until now.

The door burst open, and Nate strode in, looking equal parts exhilarated and overwhelmed. He ran a hand through his hair as he shut the door behind him, as if he needed to physically close himself off from whatever whirlwind had just hit him.

“Guys,” he started, breathless, his eyes flicking between you. “You’ll never believe what I got invites for.”

Q scoffed, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “What, the Cube end-of-the-year party?” he said, grinning. “Nice try, Nate.”

The air in the room shifted when Nate didn’t immediately laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, his face went completely still, his hands tightening around the strap of his bag.

“Wait…” he said slowly, voice deadly serious. “How did you know?”

A silence settled over the room, thick and unnatural. You felt your pulse pick up as you and the others exchanged glances.

Dani leaned forward. “Nate,” she said carefully, as if afraid of spooking him, “you’re joking, right?”

But he wasn’t. You could see it in his face.

He swallowed hard. “No,” he said. “I got us invites. All of us.”

The words sat heavy in the air. For years, the Cube party had been nothing more than an untouchable myth, a fun mystery to poke at from a safe distance. But now, the distance was gone.

“How did you nail that?” you ask.

Nathan blushed and said, “well there's been thig girl I have been Nailing,” he stammered before he said. “Her name is Nayoung.” the name reminds you of something buy you can't place why. Regardless you were excited to go.

Here’s an expanded version of your scene, adding more detail, atmosphere, and character moments:

Over the next few days, Nate drip-fed information about the party to the rest of you, each new detail adding another layer to the mystery. The most surprising revelation came from Nayoung—apparently, the party was both costume and karaoke-themed. That, at least, explained the secrecy. If a single photo of top idols drunkenly belting out power ballads while dressed in ridiculous outfits got out, it would be chaos.

With that in mind, you and Dani wasted no time in deciding on your costumes: Persona protagonists. The moment Q heard, he took it upon himself to make sure your outfits were perfect.

“Alright, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” he declared, cracking his knuckles like a man preparing for battle.

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled at costuming, but over the next few days, he guided you and Dani through every step of the process—choosing fabrics, cutting out patterns, even distressing certain parts to make them look more authentic. Watching him work, you realized he had a real talent for it.

“You’re scarily good at this, Q,” Dani said one evening, watching as he sewed intricate silver buttons onto your jacket with precise, practiced hands.

Q shrugged, eyes focused on his work. “I used to help my sister with cosplay when we were younger. And, y’know, I have to live vicariously through you two since my costume options are limited.”

Neither of you missed the way his tone dipped slightly at the end. It was an unspoken reality—Q’s darker complexion and broad frame meant that many of the characters he admired weren’t ones he could easily portray, at least not without running into criticism. But instead of letting it get to him, he poured his enthusiasm into helping you and Dani.

By the time the night of the party arrived, you, Dani, Nate, and Eraqus were ready.

The four of you stood outside the venue, a sleek, high-end building that didn’t look like the kind of place where chaotic karaoke and costumed idols would be running around. You adjusted your jacket, trying to shake off the nerves, while Dani smoothed down her gloves. Nate was already bouncing on his heels, the anticipation buzzing off him in waves, while Eraqus stood a little more stiffly, scanning the entrance like he half-expected security to turn you all away.

Then, the doors swung open, and a tiny blonde woman stepped out. You barely had time to process her sharp eyes and confident stance before she grabbed Nate by the collar and kissed him, right there in front of all of you.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh.”

It all made sense in an instant.

When she finally pulled away, Nayoung turned her attention to the rest of you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You guys look great,” she said, giving you all a quick once-over. “Now get in. Before someone sees you.”

She stepped aside, motioning for you to follow, and just like that, the four of you were stepping into the legendary Cube end-of-the-year party—where, for better or worse, the mystery was about to unravel.

The party was already in full swing by the time you stepped inside. The air buzzed with energy—idols in elaborate costumes laughing over drinks, half-shouted conversations competing with the pounding bass of a remix that someone had taken too seriously. Neon lights flickered in hypnotic patterns against the walls, casting shifting shadows over the chaotic mix of people.

Eraqus (Q) quickly found himself enmeshed between a couple of well known idols praising his zombie costume.

“Wow those exposed ribs are so good how did you do that?” Chowon from Lightsum asked asked.

“How did you find glowing contacts?” Sakura of le Sserafim asked.

“Ah well you know…” Eraqus stammered not used to all the attention. While this was going on you couldn't sense the encroaching presence behind you

You barely had time to take it all in before someone appeared beside you, slipping into your personal space so smoothly you almost didn’t notice until she spoke.

“You clean up well.”

You turned your head and found yourself face-to-face with Karina.

She looked effortlessly cool, dressed in a sleek, all-black ensemble that could have been a costume or just an excuse to look devastatingly good. The sharp contrast of dark fabric against her fair skin made her seem even more striking under the shifting lights.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—”

Her lips quirked up at the corner, amused at your hesitation. “Yu Narakami the Persona protagonist, right?” She reached out, barely brushing the lapel of your jacket between her fingers before letting go. “Nice choice. Thought I was the only one who cared about good taste.”

Your brain scrambled to keep up. You had never really spoken to her before—at most, you’d been in the same rooms during fan events, maybe exchanged a polite nod in passing. But now, here she was, looking at you like you were the only person worth talking to in the room.

“Thanks,” you finally managed, fighting to sound casual. “Didn’t think anyone here would notice.”

Karina hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Oh, I notice a lot of things.”

Before you could figure out what that meant, she took a step closer, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “How about you ditch your friends for a bit?”

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder where Dani and Ersque were deep in conversation, completely oblivious. Nate was off somewhere with Nayoung. No one was paying attention to you.

Karina smirked, reading your hesitation like an open book. She leaned in, just close enough that you could smell the faint trace of perfume clinging to her skin.

��Come on,” she murmured, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s have some real fun.”

Then, before you even had a chance to agree—or process what was happening—she took your hand, lacing her fingers through yours, and tugged you deeper into the party.

And just like that, you were gone.

Here’s an expanded version of your scene, adding more emotion, tension, and atmosphere:

Karina led you through the maze of hallways until she found an empty practice room, slipping inside without hesitation. The moment the door shut behind you, the noise of the party outside became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space.

She turned to face you, her expression unreadable for a moment, before a small, playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“So,” she said, leaning against the mirror with her arms crossed, studying you with open curiosity. “Which Persona is your favorite?”

Her eyes gleamed, pupils slightly dilated—not just from intrigue but something deeper, something hungrier.

You hesitated for half a second before answering, “Persona 4. I had a similar experience when I was younger.”

Karina arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Oh? You fought demons and gods in a shadow world?” she teased, tilting her head slightly.

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not what I meant… I had to spend a full school year with extended family because my parents were having issues.”

Her teasing expression softened, her gaze turning more thoughtful. “Where at?”

You shrugged, answering offhandedly, “Oh, [redacted].”

The reaction was immediate. Karina’s eyes went wide—wider than before, not with curiosity but with something bordering on shock. Her posture stiffened, her body leaning forward slightly, as if she needed to be closer to confirm what she was hearing.

“No way,” she breathed, searching your face with sudden urgency. “I went to [redacted] too. What year?”

Your brows furrowed, a flicker of confusion passing over you. “Uh… 20XX.”

Karina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait—” Her voice caught, her breath hitching as realization dawned in her expression. “Ace?”

Your entire body locked up. Your pulse pounded in your ears as your brain scrambled to catch up.

She knew.

She knew.

Your eyes widened, the breath stolen from your lungs as everything snapped into place.

“Yu???”

The name tumbled from your lips before you could stop it, the childhood memory flooding back in full force.

The long afternoons spent wandering the quiet town, the laughter shared over convenience store snacks, the whispered conversations about dreams and fears, the silent understanding that had always existed between you—until life had pulled you apart.

Karina—Yu—stood there, her face a perfect mix of shock, nostalgia, and something even deeper, something raw.

Neither of you moved for a moment. The air in the room was thick with tension, an electric charge crackling between you like a live wire.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for her.

She met you halfway, surging forward as your lips crashed together in a desperate, almost frantic kiss. Karina made a soft, breathy noise against your mouth, her hands gripping the front of your jacket as if she was afraid you might disappear again.

You felt her hunger, her longing, the years of separation dissolving in the heat between you.

“I missed you so much,” she whimpered against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your forehead resting against hers, trying to ground yourself in the reality of the moment.

“Holy hell, Yu,” you murmured, your hands cupping her face, your thumbs brushing against her flushed cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening against you as if she was afraid to let go.

Here’s an expanded version with more romance, affection, and warmth:

“Well,” she whispered, her breath fanning against your lips, her voice barely above a murmur, “you found me.”

Her eyes shimmered with something between teasing amusement and deep, unfiltered joy. The kind of joy that only came from reconnecting with someone who had once been your whole world. Her fingers traced light, ghosting touches along your jaw, as if she were memorizing the feel of you all over again.

A slow smile spread across your face before you leaned in, capturing her lips once more. The second kiss was softer, more intentional—less of a desperate reunion and more of a lingering promise. Her lips felt just as you remembered, warm and inviting, but now there was a sweetness to them that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was her lipstick, or maybe it was just her.

Emboldened, you gently nipped at her bottom lip, earning a surprised, breathy laugh against your mouth.

“Okay,” she murmured, her forehead resting against yours, “as much as I love this, I gotta ask… what are you doing now?”

You exhaled a small chuckle, still a little lost in her touch, before pulling back slightly. “I’m a stuntman and stunt coordinator now. Director too, for some projects. The last one we worked on was Train to Busan III.”

Karina’s eyes widened so much you were worried they might pop out of her skull.

“No way!” she gasped, pushing against your chest lightly as if to confirm you were real. “You—what?! That’s amazing!”

Her excitement was contagious, and you felt heat creep up your neck at the way she looked at you—like she was genuinely proud.

“I remember how obsessed you were with Taekwondo when we were kids,” she continued, her fingers now absentmindedly tracing patterns on your sleeve. “You were always practicing, always trying to perfect your form… and now you’re actually doing something huge with it. I love that.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but her enthusiasm made your chest feel light.

Then, with a cheeky glint in her eye, she smirked and nudged you. “So, think you could get me a role as an action heroine? I am a rocket puncher, after all.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Yu… I haven’t seen you in six years. Might be a little rusty.”

Karina let out an exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her chest as if you had wounded her. “Wow. Abandon me for six years and then insult my skills? Unbelievable.”

Her pout was devastating, and you immediately felt bad—not that you weren’t enjoying the way she was hamming it up.

You sighed dramatically, then softened. “Alright, alright. I might be able to pull some strings,” you conceded, and she grinned victoriously.

“But enough about me,” you added, giving her a look. “You’re, like, a world-famous idol now. That’s insane.”

Karina smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder in mock arrogance. “Yeah, I’m pretty savage, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her nose.

Karina blinked, stunned for half a second before a warm, slightly bashful smile took over her features. Her hands curled against your chest as she tilted her head, gazing up at you.

“So…” she murmured, quieter now, her voice holding something a little more vulnerable. “Are you back forever? Or is this just a visit?”

The weight of her question settled between you, the unspoken hope lingering in her eyes.

You reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your thumb brushing against her cheek.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted honestly, watching as something flickered across her expression.

Karina studied you for a moment before exhaling softly, then resting her head against your chest. “Well… I hope you stay,” she whispered.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, breathing her in.

“Me too,” you murmured, meaning every word.

While you and Karina were lost in your own world, elsewhere in the building, Eraqus was being dragged through the dimly lit hallways by none other than Magenta from QWER, whose mischievous grin practically glowed in the dark.

“Magenta,” Eraqus hissed, glancing around as they weaved between corners, avoiding wandering partygoers. “Why are we sneaking? You do realize you’re famous, right? You literally can just walk places.”

Magenta turned, still moving backward like some kind of rogue in a heist film. “Shhh, Eraqus, you’ve gotta commit to the bit.”

“What bit?”

“The vibe of sneaking! It makes things more exciting.”

Eraqus pinched the bridge of his nose but followed anyway, resigned to the fact that Magenta operated on a wavelength no one else did.

“Why are we even looking for a practice room?” he asked.

Magenta shrugged. “To talk.”

“You dragged me through this whole building like we’re infiltrating a government facility just to talk?”

“Exactly,” Magenta replied, completely unbothered.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a practice room door, and Magenta leaned in dramatically, pressing an ear against the wood. Eraqus, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow.

“Magenta, I swear if someone is in there—”

Ignoring him, Magenta slowly—oh-so-slowly—turned the doorknob and peeked inside. Then, with all the grace of a cartoon character, Magenta took a single step in, turned to Eraqus, and whispered, “Oh, yeah, someone’s in there.”

Eraqus groaned. “I told you—”

Before he could finish, Karina’s sharp voice cut through the room.

“…Are you two gonna stand there and gawk, or do you wanna come in?”

Eraqus grimaced and finally stepped into the room to see Karina still nestled comfortably against you, both of you staring at the intruders with varying degrees of amusement.

Magenta blinked, then grinned. “Ohhh, we totally interrupted something, huh?”

Karina sighed dramatically but didn’t move from your side. “A little, yeah.”

“We’re so sorry,” Magenta continued, not looking sorry at all. “Should we leave? I feel like we should leave. Eraqus, should we leave?”

Eraqus, who was already turning to walk out, nodded. “Yeah, I think we should.”

Before they could escape, you waved them off. “Nah, it’s fine. You guys can stay.”

Eraqus hesitated. “…Are you sure? We really don’t wanna intrude.”

Karina rolled her eyes but smiled. “Just sit down before Magenta gets another idea to sneak into someone else’s room.”

Magenta gasped in mock offense. “I would never—okay, I would. But that’s beside the point.”

With that, the four of you settled onto the floor, forming a loose circle. There was a beat of silence before Magenta, ever the instigator, grinned and leaned forward.

“So… you two childhood lovers reunited by fate or something?”

Karina scoffed, but her cheeks warmed slightly. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Eraqus, who had taken one glance at the way you two had been sitting when they walked in, deadpanned, “Yes.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around Karina’s shoulders as she nestled in a little closer. “Yeah, turns out we knew each other as kids.”

Magenta gasped, hands clutched over their chest. “That’s adorable.”

For a moment, the conversation drifted, with Karina and Magenta comparing industry horror stories, Eraqus chiming in with his usual dry wit, and you just sitting there, enjoying the moment. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by something lighter, easier.

Eventually, Magenta stretched dramatically, flopping against Eraqus, who let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t push them off.

“This is kinda nice,” Magenta mused. “Just… sitting and talking.”

Karina hummed in agreement, her fingers lazily tracing patterns against your knee. “Yeah, it is.”

Eraqus, always the pragmatic one, muttered, “I still don’t know why we had to sneak here.”

Magenta cackled. “Because it made for a way better story, obviously.”

Everyone laughed, the room filled with an easy warmth. And for the first time that night, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter—just the four of you, lost in the comfort of old and new friendships, in a quiet little room where, for a moment, time didn’t exist.

As the conversation lulled, Eraqus stretched his arms over his head, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You know, for all the mystery and hype, this party is… kinda cute,” he mused. “I was fully expecting chanting, ritual sacrifices—maybe even a secret underground fight club or something.”

Magenta snorted. “Right? With the way people talk about it, I thought we’d at least have to swear an oath of secrecy.”

Karina, who had been lazily tracing circles on your knee, perked up at that, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh no, that’s SM’s flow,” she said, her tone casual but far too knowing. “They bring in a bunch of boys for the female idols to pick from so they can blow off steam the whole night.”

Eraqus and Magenta froze.

A long, stunned silence filled the room as their expressions contorted into a mix of horror and disbelief. Magenta’s jaw practically hit the floor, while Eraqus blinked rapidly as if trying to reboot his entire thought process.

“…You’re joking,” Eraqus finally said, voice wary.

Karina held his gaze for a beat longer, face completely serious—then she cracked, bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, the look on your faces!” She clutched her stomach as she doubled over, shaking with laughter.

Magenta smacked Eraqus’s arm. “Dude, I believed her! My soul left my body for a second!”

Eraqus, still recovering, rubbed his face. “You can’t just say things like that, Karina!”

Watching them lose their minds, you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head fondly before turning to Karina. “God, I missed you.”

She tilted her head up at you, her laughter softening into something more tender. Her fingers curled lightly around your wrist as she murmured, “Well, I missed you more.”

The teasing bickering between Magenta and Eraqus faded into the background for a moment as you and Karina just sat there, basking in the warmth of familiarity.

Eraqus, regaining his composure, finally exhaled. “Alright, I think I’ve had enough emotional whiplash for one night.”

Magenta, still fanning themselves dramatically, nodded. “Same. But I gotta admit, this is way better than a ritual sacrifice.”

Karina grinned. “Glad I could keep things entertaining.”

You squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. “You always do.”

And just like that, the four of you fell back into easy conversation, laughter echoing through the practice room, turning what was supposed to be a legendary, mysterious party into something even better—something simple, warm, and unforgettable.

[htchnr]

ミ★ old and weary ꜜ LOGAN HOWLETT.

𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a ko-fi!

「 ꜜsummary,, his body isn't what it used to be, so you help him after each fight he gets into. you heal his wounds and heal his soul, day by day and kiss by kiss. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, old man!Logan ⋆ hurt/comfort ⋆ r's mutation is healing wounds with the direct touch of her fingers ⋆ blood ⋆ injuries with no mentioned severity ⋆ this tired old man needs a hug. ꜜwc,, 0,6k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

your home's quiet at this late hour, only the low sound of the tv playing some show in the background. the distant sound of Logan pulling up outside in the limo makes your heart jump a little with a tired smile.

you set your sewing project aside — patching up one of Logan's shirts — as you move up to greet him at the door.

your smile falters as you're met with the bloody sight of Logan, his shoulders hung in exhaustion, his body flinching with each heavy step. he closes the front door without a word, letting you lead him up the stairs and to your spacious bathroom.

he sits down on the edge of the tub like clockwork, sore fingers already pulling at the buttons of his stained and torn dress shirt. you sigh, gently pushing his hands aside. you wordlessly take over, unbuttoning the shirt and peeling the fabric off his figure.

you sigh sadly as you observe the damage, cuts and scrapes spanning across his broad chest and shoulders; no doubt scattering across his back as well. Logan flinches beneath your touch as your thumb slowly smooths over the first small cut on his shoulder, starting the intimate routine of healing the wounds his aging body has trouble with.

he grunts as he feels the skin weave itself back together beneath the soft pad of your thumb, leaning forward to rest his head against your stomach. you lean down to press a kiss to the skin where the small cut once was, letting your lips linger for a second before your thumb finds another injury to smooth over.

the room is filled with Logan's quiet grunts and pants as you lovingly work away each wound; leaving only the dried blood behind as evidence. and after each wound is healed you press gentle kisses to the aging skin — a regular routine that slowly heals Logan's aching, old heart kiss by kiss.

you rest your cheek against the top of his head after healing the last wound, your body slouching beneath his hold from exhaustion. while you would always heal him, no matter what time or day; that doesn't take away from the fact that it's a draining routine — the healing taking every bit of your energy.

you tiredly pull away from him, his strong arms reluctantly letting you go as you wet a washcloth with warm water and soap. you could almost hear low purrs emitting from Logan as you drag the wet cloth across his scarred skin, gently scrubbing away at the dried blood.

you drop the dirty cloth in the sink, raking your damp fingers through his greying hair as he keeps his face pressed against your stomach. his rough hands are tucked beneath your shirt, fingers digging into the supple skin of your waist. " sometimes you're really like my big dog i used to have, he liked head scratches too. "

Logan doesn't say a word about your quiet admission when you bend down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, your lips lingering before you rest your cheek a top his head. " let's get you to bed, " you yawn, your fingers scratching soft, soothing patterns against his scalp.

he hums against your stomach, the sounds low and rough. he lets you guide him up, his knees cracking as he stands up, leading him out of the bathroom and to the bedroom by his hand.

the moment he slides into bed beside you his shoulders finally relax, melting against you as he settles with his head on your chest and his face buried in the crook of your neck. you smile tiredly as you lace your fingers with his with one hand, the other rhythmically combing through his hair.

Logan lets out a long sigh, his heavy figure deflating against yours. " you know, sometimes i think he came back in the form of you, somehow always there to protect me. "

his fingers twitch around yours, his heart throbbing at your mumbled words. he scrunches his face, nuzzling impossibly close against you.

" goodnight, Lo, " you yawn, resting your cheek against his head. " 'love you. "

he tries not to tense against you at your words, not wanting to startle you wide out of your sleepy state. his eyes are wide open, blinking at the soft skin of your throat. the more he thinks about your words, the more at ease he feels. no longer do those particular words send him running, they anchor him.

he lets his tired and aching eyes fall shut, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. " i love you too, sweetheart. "

[wayeasier]

COUNT TO TWENTY-TWO — part seven

⋆˙⟡ robert (bob) reynolds x reader (thunderbolts*)

summary: Alive or not, you're now facing your biggest fears and memories. A voice guiding you forward to your lost ghost with your history laid out for you and Bob to sew together. Some things are just supposed to happen and meant to be found. Even the silly ones.

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, depressive and suicidal thoughts, death, thunderbolts* spoilers (obviously)

author's note: english is not my native language, so i apologize for all grammatical errors / mistakes in my writing (if there are any!)

author's note 2: remember when i told you that i'd remind you all about the card with two ghosts in a future chapter?!?!? well...... now it's the timeeee BIG WINK WINK

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN ...

The darkness had changed.

It was still there. It clung to you like a shadow. Endless and dark. It no longer felt like the death. It was lighter now, in a way that didn’t make sense even to you. The darkness that had consumed you as death differed from the darkness you were now in. It looked softer, brighter. It was dark, but not as dark as death was.

It felt strange. It felt strange saying that the darkness became a less dark. The darkness had a spring of color in it. Not a real color, it was just a shade of something else. Not just the darkness itself. It looked like the darkness you see when you close your eyes. Not the darkness that consumes you when you die. There wasn't any sound either, but there was something small. It sounded like a small noise, a hum. Or an echo of something in the darkness. Death didn't have sound, it was dead quiet, only silence.

You were not dead.

Or maybe you were.

Maybe this was what came after. You never got that far in dying. You didn't know where you were. If you were stuck in the actual afterlife, or if you were stuck in a nightmare. Or just dead.

But there was a certain feeling. It told you to move. To try. Your eyes felt odd. It didn't feel like you were gone with the death, it felt like you were just resting. Sleeping, maybe. It felt like you just had your eyes closed. Like you had the will to open them. Then, your eyelashes twitched against your cheek, and you could feel them brushing against the skin. The weight of your lids was heavy, like you had been asleep for too long. The instinct told you to wake up, to open your eyes and see what you need to see.

So, you opened your eyes.

You blinked away the darkness and then you were suddenly standing. You didn't remember rising, it felt like you were laying this whole time. You hadn't sensed moving at all. But you felt awake, felt real. You didn't know if this was actually death or just a burst of your imagination.

The room was quiet. You finally aligned your eyes with the dim but not dark interior of the room you were standing in. Your eyes adjusted slowly. The corners of the room were hazy, soft, and blurred as if it were a painting or a dream. But the center was clear. Too clear.

In front of you sat a child.

On a chair too big for a child that small. The child wore a long black hospital gown, and the child's small feet swung back and forth over the high chair. Almost as if the child was on a swing. The child's frame was hunched over, head hung low, staring at a certain item that was in those tiny hands.

A bright, pink birthday card.

The child read quietly in the mother tongue in which the words were written in. Not in English. It was Sokovian. A language you recognize too well. You watched from the side, standing just a few steps to the left of the small child, your stance angled subtly toward the scene unfolding in front of you. You couldn't pull your eyes away, you remembered the whole scene so vividly.

The little child was you.

Then, a door to your right creaked open. You turned your head at the sound, and you already knew who was coming through the doorway. Through the doorway stepped a red-headed woman. Her steps were graceful and elegant, her posture straight. She wore a smile that stretched on her lips like it was painted on. It glowed on her face. Her back was straight, chin lifted up. And in front of you, the child lit up, beaming at the sight of the entering woman.

"Mama," Mum, the child breathed out, "dziekujem za rodenodnevne želanie," thank you for the birthday wish, the child said sweetly in the soft native tongue. The child's whole face opened with joy.

The woman didn't speak, she just stepped forward to the child. And then she reached out. Her hand moved slowly, fingers outstretched to the child's thinner wrist. The red-headed woman's fingers locked around the tiny arm.

"Why do I need to see this again?" you said out loud, your voice rasping as if it didn't belong to you. It stung at your throat when the words left your mouth. You closed it when you asked the second time, your throat tingling. No matter how much your instincts screamed to look away, you couldn’t. You couldn't pull your gaze away. It was almost like your eyes were stuck, glued to the scene as if you hadn't seen it before.

You remembered it all, you felt it all. You lived through it.

The woman’s smile only deepened as she held the small child’s thin wrist in her hand. Then, the red-headed woman grabbed her other arm and reached into her belt, under her shirt. You knew what she was reaching for before you saw it.

She took out a gun. A loaded gun.

The small child blinked, the eyes catching a sight of the sleek handgun in own mother's hands. Still holding the pink birthday card in the other hand which was not being held by the red-headed woman. The child's smile wavered, cracking down.

"Mama?" Mum? the small voice barely made a sound, the child's voice trembling slightly, "što robiš...?" what are you doing...?

No answer came from the red-headed woman. You, the older version of the child, stepped forward, your expression furrowing as you stared at the scene you vividly remembered from your childhood.

The red-haired woman didn't respond to the fragile child's small distressed question. She guided the small hand of the child towards the weapon. Her own fingers wrapped gently around the child’s as she placed the gun carefully into the tiny palms of the child. Then together, they both lifted it like they were holding a medal. And then their moving of the gun stopped just beside the small child’s temple. Pressed softly against the skin there. The child stared at the mother with wide, searching eyes.

“Mama?” Mum? The child said again, more urgently now, "mama, mama, mama, što—” mum, mum, mum, what—

Then sounded a single shot.

Splitting through the small, grey room. The child’s small body jolted from the force. The pink birthday card slipped from the small child's fingers, fluttering and landing on the floor. It landed before the child did. Then the body of the small, young, child dropped from the tall chair. The small figure of the child twisted as it fell, limbs bending as the force of the shot made it jerk to the side. A small, lifeless body of a young child laid helplessly dead on the floor beside its own standing mother. Her own child. The tiny fingers she had just held, now open and limp against the cold, grey floor.

"Fuck—" you breathed out, your throat stinging and so did you eyes. They burned. You didn't want to cry over your own memory. You blinked the tears away.

But the second you blinked, the room twisted and changed in that second. And there you were again, in the same room with the child before you. The child was untouched. No blood anywhere, the pink birthday card in the tiny hands. The small legs swung back and forth as though time had never stopped.

Everything was back to the start.

It was a loop.

The moment, the memory was playing out again. And then she came in again, the red-headed woman with elegant posture and a beaming smile that brought comfort to the small child. You knew what she was reaching for before her hand even dipped beneath her shirt. But this time, you moved. Fast. You caught her wrist in your hand just as her fingers brushed against the grip of the gun hidden under her shirt. You pressed hard against her wrist, keeping her away from hurting the younger version of you.

The red-head's eyes flickered to you when your fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes widened and her smile stretched even more, "moje dziev—" my gir— she began softly, her smile wide like she had seen her best gift. But your face hardened and your fingers tightened around the wrist of the woman.

“I’m not your girl anymore,” you hissed back in English. She didn’t deserve your language. Didn’t deserve your blood. She didn't deserve to hear the language she had taught you, the language that was called a mother tongue to you. She winced at your grip.

“I know,” she muttered, her language switching to English too. Her Sokovian accent thick in her sentences, “you never really were. You were just a subject for our—”

The small child before you cried out.

You turned your head instinctively. Your eyes snapped to the small face. The small child whimpered, staring at the red-headed woman with tears in eyes, "mama..." mum...

But the redhead didn’t look at the small teary-eyed child that she called hers. And that was your mistake. A mistake you once again overlooked. Because while your gaze lingered on the trembling child, the red-headed woman moved quickly. With her other hand, she dropped the child's wrist and yanked the gun from under her shirt. You barely saw the flash of metal before the gun was pressed to your temple and a shot rang out.

She shot you. Instead of the younger version of you, the small child.

Then it began again.

The child was perched on top of the high chair again, head bowed as the child read the Sokovian words written in the pink birthday card. Then, a door to your right creaked open. Through the doorway stepped the familiar red-headed woman.

“This is insane,” you hissed between clenched teeth, staring at the woman in the doorframe. You didn't waste time this time. You didn't need to see your nightmare being played once again, repeating like it was a television show.

You stormed towards the woman. Her mouth opened to call out to your older figure when you came just in front of her. Your hand went under her shirt faster than she could react, right to the spot where she was hiding the cold metal of the weapon she had used to kill you once with.

You ripped it free from there and the woman gasped loudly. She was not expecting this.

You were quick to raise it, aiming it down at her feet.

The bullet ripped through her foot. Shooting twice, once at the left one and once at the right one. Both feet shot through. The woman screamed and stumbled forward, deeper into the room, collapsing forward onto her knees as she couldn't stand still anymore. She let out a pained noise as her body stumbled onto the grey concrete floor of the small grey room, right in front of the small child perched on top of the high chair. But you didn’t stop to watch the woman, whom you used to call your mother, fall down in pain. You darted just past her, shoving through the door she had just entered from multiple times before. The one you recognized too well.

You ran through in a second.

The moment you flew through the room into the hallway, the entire world exploded in white. Burning white, so bright.

It slammed into your face. It pierced its ends into your eyes and face. You staggered backward, stopping your run, and your hand flew up to shield your eyes from the blaring brightness. You blinked a few times behind your hand, trying to adjust your vision. Then, when your vision cleared into something more natural you noticed that the entire space around you had changed. You were not inside a building anymore, there were no grey walls surrounding you from all sides. You were not locked up anymore. You were almost somewhere that you could call a freedom.

You were outside now.

There was a cold maliciously biting at your face liek you were a lunch for it. Wind was screaming against you. Pushing you around, making you stagger backwards. As if it wanted you to turn back and get back inside. Then, you realized your boots were drenched in cold. You were buried ankles deep in a thick, cold snow. You could feel your knees tremble, the cold pushing at your body. The cold was slicing at your cheeks like small cuts from blades' tips.

The world around you was so bright, so white. You couldn't tell where you were. The cold was terrible.

"Follow your fears."

The voice did not come from anywhere near you. Not from behind you nor from above. It was almost like it was in your head, like you were imagining it. You staggered, one hand flying to your temple. The voice was almost like a night terror, a deep noise. A rasping, hollow sound of a nightmare that made you want to crawl and hide somewhere.

“Where do I follow them?” you asked out loud trying to make your voice be heard over the gushing of the strong snowy and cold wind. The cold was so sharp.

"To me."

The sound of the voice almost hurt. The words were too loud to be called a whisper and too quiet to be called a yell. It almost sounded like it erupted in your mind, like a pressure pushing against your skull from the inside. It hurt.

You recognized it. The voice, the sound. You don't know how, but you did.

You nodded, or at least tried. The cold is biting at you. You took a step forward and then another. Then you went into a run, your boots sinking into the thick, cold, and crunchy snow beneath.

You kept moving, each step felt even more colder. Boots sinking into the snow and becoming even more colder and wet. Devouring you. The cold kept biting at your skin. Like you were its last meal.

And then you heard it. Just a small bit of a noise.

An engine. Tires against the crunching snow. There was a truck. It looked blurry through the veil of snow in your vision. But it was there, moving forward. Headlights lighting its snowy path in front of itself.

You moved forward, squinting at it, "I'm here! Wait! Please!" you shouted as loud as you could. The cold wind whipping the sound of your voice away like it was just a little piece of another snow.

You stumbled forward, your boots sinking into the snow. You nearly fell with each step, and your legs felt sore from the cold. Stinging frost at your eyes.

"Please!" you ran, harder and faster than you could. Feet burying into the snow with each taken step. Your muscles cried and so did your whole soul.

And so did the silhouette before you.

Just a few steps ahead, you haven't noticed the figure before. It was a teenager, maybe sixteen. They wore tactical pants with pockets empty, and their boots were frozen and buried in the snow. Then a shirt that was far too big for the teenager's frame. A plain t-shirt in the freezing cold. Own thin arms wrapped tightly around own chest, arms trembling violently in the coldness surrounding the figure. The head of the teenager was bowed slightly, looking like the figure was asleep, but standing still.

You stepped slowly forward, the cold raging wind whipping around you. The figure pulled you to them, maybe you did. You wanted to know why the figure was there, who the figure was. There wasn't supposed to be a teenager in a snow blizzard in the middle of nowhere, wearing just a pair of tactical pants with a t-shirt.

You stopped just a step away from the teenager, "are you okay?" you had to shout over the snow. The figure didn't respond at first, just kept the head low and trembled. Then the teenager lifted up head.

And your breath left you. Not from the cold.

But from the recognition.

Because those eyes that looked up. They were yours.

You found yourself gazing at the same person. You were staring at yourself. The younger version of yourself. Maybe, sixteen. Those eyes that were looking into yours were yours, you recognized them from anywhere. It was you. Almost reflexively, you came closer, your legs slow with coldness that was all around you. And the look the teenager gave you was one of the deep, quiet knowing ones.

The teenager's cheeks were raw and their eyes, your eyes, brimmed with tears. Maybe, just snow. But they were yours.

“Are we going to die?”

The teenager asked you and everything inside you had screamed to lie. To lie to the younger self. To say no. To shield them from the truth you’d grown used to carry with yourself like a friend. But you couldn't lie to yourself. The teenager has to know and will know later on.

"Yes. We will eventually die."

The teenager had nodded like they already knew, but needed to hear it from someone. From you. From themselves. The teenager looked out into the blizzard in front, looking at something unseen.

“Why do they like hurting us?” the teenager asked quietly, not looking at you this time, "what did we do wrong?”

"We didn't do anything wrong," you responded to the teen's question. Stepping closer to the trembling figure. They were shivering completely. Bare arms tucked in around own torso. The too-large shirt and tactical pants soaked through. Cold seeping in like a snake.

The teenager then turned their head towards you. The voice cracked when they asked, almost hesitantly, "can you… can you stay with me? Until I… until I leave?”

That made a tear in your heart. Aching.

"I will stay,” you whispered to the teen version of you.

You then opened your arms and the teenager collapsed into them like their legs were not working anymore. Almost as if the teen was waiting for your arms to be held out their whole life, like you were the teenager's missing piece. You held your younger self as tightly as the cold would allow, their thin body trembling against yours, just holding against your own chest, bent like a child. You let your head bow, lips against your own, but a younger head. Your tactical grey suit was already soaked through, but you felt the tears flow from the young you. Seeping into the cloth. Just tears running down cold faces in a world that never stopped hurting.

"You need to let yourself too," the words left the teenager's lips. And then the trembling in their limbs went still. The shoulders stilling and the small hands relaxing against your chest almost the next moment. The body fell at a dead weight on you. You remained upright, holding the fragile body against yourself.

Then, you sank down, lowering yourself until you lay on your back in the cold snow. The snow above you was flying like it was playing an act in a theater. The flakes of snow flew around like stage actors during a performance. You laid still, watching them fall.

You cradled the teenager, your younger self, against your chest. Snow gathered on top of the teenager's hair like a decorative flowers, flakes landing on their lashes too. Not melting in the cold. Your arms curved protectively around them, staring up with snow falling over your face.

The teenager laying limp in your arms was still you. But different, younger. This version of you, the younger one, won't be coming back as soon as you usually do. Twenty-two minutes before death, over and over again... That part wasn’t always there. You were not yet the one to be called Twenty-Two. You were just a broken thing learning how to live again through the wreckage of what had been done to you. This body didn’t know the rules yet.

So you lay back.

You had to let yourself too.

You closed your eyes. The snow welcomed you. It wrapped around your body. The snow kissed around your body, piercing your face. You dipped your head back until you felt it cold. Really cold, almost painful. Like a terrible migraine. Let the snow land against your face. You let yourself go, but not the teenager in your arms. Your arms remained looped tightly around the smaller figure.

You let the cold take you. Your breathing slowed down and you let your whole body be still. Your breaths grew shallow and hard. Hurting.

Then your chest stilled, your consciousness slipping slowly away. Your body stuck with the frost just like the younger version of you. Both of you closed in with the snow and coldness. Like you belonged together, to fall in the snow.

And then you were gone.

And your arms felt empty. A shift in the weight, the coldness was gone. You opened your arms slowly, confused at first. Grasping at nothing but air. An empty space. No fragile body of the younger version of you against your chest. No teenager slipping their consciousness away in the snow and cold in middle of nowhere.

"The pain only gets worse. You can't die here," the voice that was almost like a night terror sounded out again. Ripping at the air around you and your head. Almost hurting. A rasping, hollow sound that sounded right around you.

"You will ache. You will bleed... But not from your wounds. The light awaits, at the end of everything—" it wasn't just a sound. It was a voice, but it was something else too. Almost like a pressure that hurt.

So, you opened your eyes.

You weren’t in the snow anymore. You were standing in the center of a room in an old apartment. Wooden floor underneath your boots.

Right in front of you was a mattress thrown on the floor and on top of it sat a hunched-over person. Legs bent to their chest, arms thrown over their knees. Head bowed low, almost hiding their face. Broken beyond repair.

You didn't move at first. You very well recognized the person sitting on the mattress and the apartment that you were in. It was one of the first weeks in Bratislava. Just a few days after you were finally let free from Sokovia and your so-called hell. It was one of the first places you were ever truly alone. Not alone as in locked up in a cell alone. But alone, trying to take care of yourself.

You took one slow step forward. The wooden boards of the floor groaned under your moving boot. The figure on the mattress flinched at the new sound, their head snapping upward. Almost terrified. Under those terrified eyes were blooming dark shadows from not much sleep. The figure's face was so familiar, yet so painfully distant.

The figure's eyes were so wide. Awaiting your next move. The older version of you took another step forward, almost like you did not want the younger you to flee away or be scared away. Their eyes were searching. For something hidden within the older version. Eyes bruised with exhaustion.

"This apartment is better than the whole Sokovia, don't you think?" you said quietly to the person on the mattress who was so curiously staring at you. You took another slow step forward and tilted your head, looking around your old apartment.

The younger person didn't answer. Just stared wide-eyed back at you.

“Have you visited the Medic garden yet?” you asked, your gaze moving across the apartment, remembering your stay there. Every inch of the apartment was familiar to you, but not to the younger person on the mattress on the floor.

“No,” the teen rasped, voice so dry and so hoarse. It sounded just painful just to speak.

“You should,” you replied, a faint smile tugging at the edge of your mouth, "I... We used to go there every other day... when we were still here. It was a safe place in all this chaos."

Your steps slowed as you neared the person on the mattress, stopping just a few feet in front of the mattress. The younger version of yourself sat motionless, but staring straight at you.

“I don’t understand the language,” they whispered, trying to find a reason not to go out. Not to get out from the apartment.

“You will,” you said gently, kneeling down so your eyes could meet theirs, "eventually, you will know just enough to start a conversation."

There was another moment of silence between you and the younger you. Almost like you both were picking out the words. Then, the younger you furrowed their brows tightly at you and a snarl went out from their mouth.

“I don’t wanna go out. I want to die.”

The words twisted in your insides. Even though the words weren’t new to you. It was still you who spoke them.

You finally crouched just comfortably in front of the younger self, staring into a face you knew too well. Into your own, but younger.

“I know,” you said softly.

The younger you dropped their head again, letting it hang low between their hunched shoulders. You watched the figure tremble slightly and then they whispered something. Too quiet. You didn't catch the words.

You furrowed your brow and leaned in closer. But not too close. You had to keep your distance, you were so fragile and emotional back then. You could do things youu'd never do now, "what did you say?” you asked, your voice low to not startle your younger self.

Then, the person opposite you lifted their head, slowly until their eyes met yours. Your own eyes staring into yours.

You didn't even have time to jump back into your thoughts. One moment, you were looking at yourself with those sad, almost empty eyes. Then the next moment, out of nowhere, the younger you lunged almost as fast as a cheetah at you. You barely had time to widen your eyes or yell out at yourself before they crashed into you with the full weight of themselves. Tackling you backwards. Your back slammed into the wooden floor, your head striking backward into the floor with a loud noise. Your teeth clenching together at the pain rising at the back of your head.

Then their arms were around your neck. Just like you had yours around Valentina before. Choking you, fingers digging into your skin. Your own hands were wrapped around your own neck, but it was the younger you strangling the current you.

You just choked, your legs flailing and kicking underneath the body of the younger self. Your boots sliding on the wooden floor completely uselessly. Almost like they were designed not to be helpful.

Your hands clawed at your younger hands. Trying to pry them off your throat as fast as it was possible. But your younger self only tightened their grip.

“This is all your fault!” the younger version of you screamed and their fingers dug into your neck. Your younger face above you was twisted into something raw, rage-filled, a hint of sadness and pain flooding it. There were tears clinging to the corner of their eyes—of your own, but younger, eyes.

"It's—It's not our fault—" you gasped out, your throat crushed under your own hands.

"I want to die!"

"I want to die—please! I don't want this. I need to die! I don't want to keep doing—" they screamed and screamed. Trembling above you, shaking almost like they could never stop. Like you could never stop.

And then, all at once, it all broke down.

Your younger arms gave out suddenly, the pressure around your throat released, and their body collapsed onto yours. Tangling together. The younger you letting out a heap of breathless, never-ending sobs. Their hands, once shaking and cruel, trying to kill and hurt themselves, now fell limp around your neck. Your younger fingers wrapping around the cloth of your grey tactical suit. Their legs folded into yours, almost in desperation to not be let go.

The younger you broke down completely in that moment.

Gasping sobs escaped the younger person's chest like they had been kept there for years. Your younger face buried in the curve where your shoulder met with your neck, hiding yourself into you. Almost shameful. Shivering like a small, lost fawn.

“I know,” you whispered, "I know…”

You wrapped your arms around the fragile person slowly. Carefully slowly. You didn’t speak again, there were no words needed now. No words could overcome whatever is going on now. The silence is the key. You just held them, held yourself, through the breakdown. Letting the past you drown in you and your pain. The younger you wailed, sobbed, and cried. Tears are soaking the side of your neck. Their cruel grip from before now turned into a desperate hug of comfort. Like they were seeking the needed help. Pulling it from you.

You laid there with your younger self tangled over you for minutes. For such a long time, unmoving, letting the pain drain. You didn't move, you just held the younger self close. Let the younger one sob and shake. You didn’t tell the younger person to stop. You didn’t try to shush yourself, to not wake the neighbors. You let them, the younger you, fall apart the way you had once needed someone to let you.

Eventually, the sobs slowed and eased. Then they completely stopped.

The younger you shifted slightly, your breath still hitching now and then. A small whisper escaped their lips, "is it true?”

You tilted your head slightly, your younger face still hidden in the curve of your shoulder. Your hand absently smoothing up and down the younger self's back, "what is?”

"That we found our ghost."

The words hit you unexpectedly. You forgoten about that. You haven't thought about that since you left Bratislava. Your eyes closed and you puffed out a breath, “I forgot we still believed in that card…” you whispered out.

The younger you slowly peeled away from your chest, untangling their limbs from yours. They sat on the floor just beside you, you were still laying flat on your back on the wooden floor of your old apartment. Staring right above at the ceiling.

“But did we?” the younger you asked with a quiet voice, pulling their knees up to their chest.

You let your head fall to the side, your eyes falling onto the younger version of yourself.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, "I don't know if he is our ghost..." you chuckled softly at the word ghost. It was a silly thought that you had in your mind since you were a little kid. Since you've got that card from the only nice person in that Sokovian facility. The doctor who cleaned your wounds. He was the only nicest out of them. You were not allowed to call anyone by name back there, he only whispered it once when you were terrified for one of the experiments. His name was long forgotten to you, and you couldn't really remember the correct spelling of his name anymore. He was Sokovian, his name was something similar to Svetoslav, if you recall it right. It had been too long since you last thought about him. He was the closest to what you could call a friend, or someone that you could trust back when you were in Sokovia. He used to tell you about the two daughters he had waiting for him back home, the books he used to read. He told you he once wanted to be an author, but he couldn't leave this work. It was his whole life. He told you all that while he cleaned the wounds that the scientists made on you with their weapons and experiments.

He gave you that card.

That card with those two little ghosts.

"I—We may never see him again. I don’t know if I can get out from…” you paused, then motioned vaguely around the room, you still don't understand or know what this is. Where you are stuck at, "from here. From whatever this is."

The younger you watched you for a moment, then gave a shaky little nod, looking around the apartment.

"I can help you."

The younger you start to stand up, pushing themselvesed off the floor. You stood up quickly with the younger self. Reaching your arms forward when their knees buckled. Your arm slipped instinctively around your own back.

Then, the younger you reached into the pocket of their worn, baggy jeans. Dirty from all things you could imagine. It was a pair you used to always wear. Their fingers fumbled and trembled, then pulled out a small paper.

A card.

Its edges were creased, the paper worn from being touched too often. You used to carry it with you at all times. You recognized it before they even handed it to you. It was so familiar that it nearly stung at your eyes. The younger you placed it in your palm gently.

You turned the card over. Your heart tugged at the sight.

Two small, not scary-looking, but childlike sweet looking, sweet-looking ghosts. Faded colors adoring its own beauty. A faded orange-pink heart floated between them. Their forms almost looked like they were dancing together in love. You hadn’t seen this card in years. You haven't seen those two ghosts for years. You haven't even thought about them. Haven't thought about the missing ghost to your ghost.

“I used to believe in the saying,” you murmured, eyes locked on the card in your hands

“You still do,” the younger you said.

Above the round head of one of the ghosts, barely visible now, was a small, playful boo! After all, it was a card for children. Your eyes moved lower, to the line of text written there. It was written elegantly, old-fashioned like. Like the text you'd find written as a title of a storybook.

Count to twenty-two and you’ll be mine too!

The words curled like ribbon on the bottom of the card. You used to believe that it was destiny. That it was written for you and your own future. After the many, many experiments you've been through, they told you that no matter how many times they would kill you, or how they would kill you. Your body would reappear twenty-two minutes back from wherever it had its life ended earlier on.

Always twenty-two.

You held on to that number like it meant something. It meant you. So, you found comfort in the card. In the two ghosts. One of them was you. You decided that early on. Just a few days after the only sweet and caring doctor gave you that card and they told you about the twenty-two-minute curse you had been given by the scientists. There was another ghost out there. Someone you haven't met yet. Someone who would understand you, someone cursed like you, maybe. One to be the the one next to your ghost, right under the faded orange-pink heart.

You called them your ghost. And you used to look out for the other ghost. For the missing piece that was left to you.

“Keep it,” the younger you said softly with a quiet voice, pulling you from your running thoughts.

You looked up at the younger you. You noticed how their lashes still kind of clung to their cheeks when they blinked, from the tears holding there.

You unzipped a pocket on your tactical vest and slid the ghost card into the opened pocket, the one closest to your chest. Closest to your heart. You then zipped it back up and lifted your head to look at the younger self.

“How do I get out of here?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, looking around the apartment you were in.

"Close your eyes and go."

"Go?" you echoed back, confused by the choice of words. By such a simple words. The simplicity of it all.

“You’ll know,” the younger you said, staring up at you with their, yours, slightly still red eyes from the tears, "just… close your eyes and let it take you.”

You nodded a few times, acknowledging the words. Then, you took one last look at the younger self. The younger, hurt, living picture of yourself. You didn’t say goodbye. There was no need to say. You were always with this person. It was you. Stuck with you forever.

You closed your eyes. And you let go. You didn't know what would happen, you didn't know what would take you or wherre you would be taken to. But somehow, beneath the uncertainty lingering, you trusted it. Trusted yourself.

You left your eyes closed for a while, letting your whole body loose, the tension slipping away.

Then you felt it. A slight shift. As if you were moved.

You heard a gasp. But it wasn't yours, though. You snapped your eyes open at the sound quickly. And there he was, sitting on the floor. The only person you were looking and longing for. He was breathing and right in front of you like nothing ever happened to him.

Bob.

You were next to gasp. Your knees nearly gave up from underneath your weight.

He was right there.

Cross-legged sitting on the wooden floor on a rug inside an old wooden attic. He was surrounded by many trinkets and items, there was a Rubik's cube on the floor beside him too, with colors uneven, almost like he tried to solve it but gave up halfway in the time. His blue eyes were wide, stunned. Unbelieving to the sight. His mouth slightly parted in disbelief. He looked at you like he remembered every detail of his life. He looked almost as if he did not believe his own eyes. Like you were a flicker of his imagination. An unreal thought in his mind.

He had seen you die. He remembered that. He remembered you dying. He remembered that part so well.

“Twenty-Two?” he breathes out, so much disbelief lacing his words. His voice trembles too. He doesn't believe or trust his eyes at this moment. Almost as if this whole situation was impossible.

You stare at him back, frozen in place. You take his sight in for a little bit longer and then you take a slow step forward, like you don't want him to run off.

“What is this?” you ask quietly, barely above a whisper. Your voice low and unbelieving, so confused, "how are you—”

By the next few slow steps, you're standing just before him, ends of your boots touching the old worn-out rug he's sitting cross-legged on.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and soft. There is something swimming in them, it's not the golden hue you saw back when you were still alive at the fight. It's something soft. As well as guilty and aching. Almost like he seeks a comfort and finds himself the reason to not get it.

“I can explain…” he whispers, blinking up at you with those aching blue eyes full of miracles, "I promise.”

And at those promising words, you slowly lower yourself to the floor right. You sit beside him on the dark red rug that is much thinner now. Your knees are nearly touching each other.

He’s not wearing the golden suit anymore. You notice that at first. He isn't sporting a useless long blue cape anymore. None of that armor remains. Instead, he’s dressed like he’s just a person. Like a human being.

He’s wearing corduroy pants, a caramel brown that looks softer than anything. The pants themselves look baggy and worn. Something he's wearing for the comfort, not for the look. On top, a dark blue crewneck hangs off his torso. The crewneck itself is deep navy blue with horizontal stripes so close to the blue shade that they’re almost identical to the actual colour of the top. The ends of the sleeves fall just over his palms, one of his fingers playing with the end. Most likely not realizing so. On his feet, a pair of old beaten, and scuffed Nike trainers. They looked loved enough by the boy. The laces are unevenly tied, slightly hiding under the corduroy pants. The shoes look like they have been walked in for a long time. They were being loved for a long time. And are still being loved. Just like he should be.

He’s hunched slightly forward. His crewneck covered elbows resting on his knees, shoulders curved inward like he was carrying something so heavy on his back. But he looked comfortable.

"The blond hair is gone," you murmur, lifting your head up and catching the sight of his now not bleached hair. The brown curls back at adoring his head.

He follows your gaze, raising his head up trying to catch a sight of his own hair on top of his head. Almost like he hadn’t noticed the change, "oh—yeah,” he breathes out. Then his eyes drop back to you.

"You are alive," he says, almost like a whisper. Like he doesn't want to jinx the statement. Disbelieving the words, he saw you die. He remembers you laying on the floor.

"Am I really?" you breathe out the question. You don't know if you really are alive. If this still isn't your mind being twisted after death, "I really don't know what this is. A dream, my afterlife… some cruel in-between part of those? I don’t know. I just—” your breath catches at the words, “—I just suddenly appeared. Face to face with my younger self. More versions of myself from before and with… with everything I tried to leave behind myself. Things that were long forgotten."

"My worst memories.”

He doesn’t blink, just stares, like he gets what you meant by your words, "you're alive,” he says again, “you're here.”

“But how?” you whisper, your voice sounding different than before, “Valentina... she killed me. The right way. There was no coming back. I knew it and she did too. She made sure of it..."

"I was dead.”

He is still looking at you. His eyes were glued to yours, like he couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere else. He then starts to say with slight hesitation drawing at his words, "I have a feeling…” he starts, opening and closing his mouhh to a few times before continuing, "I have something in my mind. I feel like I know how you’re alive but—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head, letting his hair cover the front of his face. There is a silence for a while, an understanding one. A one that doesn't need to be filled in with useless words.

"When I was back there... I heard someone speaking," you murmured after a while, "it wasn't you. It wasn't me either. Just someone else, I don't know—"

Bob’s head dropped lower, the shaggy curled ends of his brown hair falling just over his forehead, "yeah,” he whispered out, “that’s what I mean. That’s why I feel like I know how you’re alive.”

"What do you mean?" you asked while your eyes tried to find his through the fallen hair hiding his face. You shifted slightly and your knees bumped into his again.

"There is someone else," he swallowed and said, "he is the reason you're alive. The reason you saw those... memories."

You listened, unmoving. Letting him talk while your eyes watched his fingers tremble under the blue sleeves of his crewneck.

"It's not me... Well, it is. But it's not just me. He's different," his voice dropped again, his fingers twitching under the ends of his sleeves, looking like he was gesturing at something.

"He lives inside me. When I'm at my lowest. He is there. He seeks to be let out at my worst," he exhaled out, his voice trembling and he opened his mouth again.

"The Void."

The word was deep. It showed pain, the name he gave out was almost hurting him. He shuddered at the mentioned name, his shoulder rolling.

"The Void?" you echoed his words back.

Bob nodded at your echoed back name, "is he there?” you asked him.

Bob then shook his head a few times, then he stopped and nodded a few times. Like he didn't know the answer too, "this is him," he said without lifting his head, "the memories, those nightmares and fears... That's all him. He's out right now. He's terrorizing everyone outside, while I'm stuck here. Trapped in my own memory."

"He is bringing everyone into their worst shame. Their fears," he continued, his voice dropping again.

“This is your—” you began to ask him if this attic was his memory. A fear of his, or a nightmare that terrorized his history.

A sound of shattering plate cut through the floor beneath you. Loudly. Then came the unmistakable sound that you too well recognized. So did Bob beside you. Skin on skin.

A slap.

Then another and another.

You looked down from where the sound came from. Just at the edge of the rug was the wooden floor slightly sagged, there was a small hole peeking. Through it, you could see straight into the kitchen below you where the sounds came from.

Bob saw where you were looking from where he had his head bowed down.

He didn’t even try to stop you from seeing his childhood memory, "don't mind them…” he whispered, "they're just—” he paused, swallowing in his throat, “it’ll end soon.”

"This is the nicest room out of all... The other rooms are much worse," he whispers out and lowers his head in almost shame.

You turned to look at him slowly. His hands were shaking, gripping the edges of his sleeves. You noticed his fingers trembling and gripping the ends of the blue sleeves. You didn't even think or hesitate about your next move. You just reached forward. Your fingers brushed the edge of his fingertips first. Then they wrapped around his fingers that were peeking out from beneath the worn cuffed sleeves of the blue crewneck. His fingers were cold, much colder than yours. Almost like he was the one to be in that snowstorm that you were in moments before.

At your sudden touch, his head snapped up. His eyes, glazed with kept and unshed tears met yours. They were wide. He wasn't expecting you to reach out at him and touch him. But he didn't pull away, he didn't move his hand away from yours.

His trembling then slowly stopped. He let your hand lay against his, now not not-trembling hand. And then, slowly he curled his hand into yours. A shudder left his chest, like a small cry of fear. Like your touch of your fingers against his broke something deep inside him that he couldn’t try to put into words. His hand stayed in yours.

"Say that again!" someone, an angry man, yelled from downstairs which made you turn your head towards the small hole in the wooden floor again. A furious sounding command.

You caught a glimpse of a man standing up at the table, in front of a young boy. His shoulder high in defence, but he still looked scared. He stood in front of woman, blocking her from the view of the angred man before him.

"Don't touch her—" a child, a young boy, stated firmly to the man before him. The young boy planted himself before the man marching towards the woman. Most likely his mother.

"Oh, yeah. He speaks up!" the man speaks out with angred mockery. He then pushed nearly all food off the table as he neared the boy who was standing in front of the woman. The clattering sound echoing off the kitchen walls. Almost like the boy was protecting her from the man.

"Mum..." the boy gasps out as the man nears him and his mother. The older man closed the distance between himself and the younger boy, who remained glued to the spot. Desperately standing straight to protect the woman behind him.

The mother stays put and yells out with a sharp voice, but a kind of voice that doesn't make anyone flinch or move, "stop!"

"A hero, Bobby!" the man barked mockingly and pushed another items off the kitchen table, all of it going across the kitchen onto the floor.

"Bob, sit down," the woman suddenly snapped at the younger boy, cutting with her voice through the chaos of the argument, "you're making it worse."

You felt Bob beside you start to tremble again, just slightly. The grip on your hand hadn't loosened, he tightened it. As if he didn't want you to vanish or be let go.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers again, his head dropped with his hair covering his face again. His chin nearly meeting his chest.

You tear your gaze from the crack in the floor at the edge of the rug and look back at him. He's hunched over, his head dropped like he is hiding and his hands is tightly holding yours in almost a silent prayer. You see in between his hair and see that his eyes. Teary. His blue wells full of water threating to spill.

“Bob—” you begin with your voice barely a whisper. But your words are cut off by Bob speaking.

"Do you have a card?"

You still at that question. Your mouth hangs open, no words coming out. Your mouth hangs open for a few seconds and then you close it, your brows knitting together, "what?"

You had to ask. You know what he means. You know that he means the small card in your pocket of your vest. You know exactly what he means. But you don't know how he knows about it.

“I had a dream,” he says quietly, his finger grazing over tours again, "you… you had a card. We were there... like this. Sitting next to each other. You held a card in your hands," his voice trembles slightly, "there was a drawing—”

"Of two ghosts."

"Of two ghosts."

You both speak at the same time. Your eyes are wide and his head lifts up, his eyes catching yours like a magnet. You reach for the pocket of your vest without thinking. You unzip it and your fingers find the creased edges of the card in instant. You pull the card out and hear Bob let out a long deep exhale. His eyes are already on it by the time you pull it out and he stares like it’s not just a piece of an old paper, but like it’s a real prophecy.

You don't see it, but his lips are parted. He doesn't believe the fact that his dream was somehow real.

You hold it in your palm, staring down at it without looking up at the man sitting next to you. He looks down at it too.

He sees the drawing, the complete exact drawing of those two sweet-looking ghosts from his dream. There are those two familiar small ghosts, floating toward each other like they're almost looking like they're dancing together. That faded orange-pink heart between them. The same creased edges, right at the same spot where it was in his dream. The same everything.

He nearly chokes when your fingers graze and trace the drawing of the card. Right over the two ghosts there. The same way you did in his dream. Like it was repeating. As if you had seen that dream too and had to react to it whole. To the single detail. Except the fact that instead of the Rubik's cube in his hands, there is yours holding his.

He then notices the writing now. The line of text. Finally. The symbols that he couldn't make out when he was dreaming. Like that piece did not belong in that sream, like he was supposed to find out himself. Not by the dream and thoughts. But with you by his side. The part that the dream refused to give him. The letters that blurred each time he tried to read them.

Count to twenty-two and you’ll be mine too!

His heart tugs. At the text. The part that the dream did not want to give it to me. Something inside him ached. He understands that text, that's why the dream did not want to give him that part. It would be too easy. His fingers, still curled around yours, squeezed once, "I think,” he started to say but a breath caught itself in his chest, “some part of me was waiting for you.”

"I had a similar one... I remember similar text on it," he whispered and his gaze stayed on the card in your fingers. Looking at the two familiar ghosts floating around.

You tilt your head and stared up at Bob. Your fingers tracing his fingers that are held around yours. Then, you looked down at your intervening fingers and that's when you saw it.

A familiar edge of a card that was peeking out from beneath the Rubik's cube.

Your heart lurched against your ribs the second your thoughts ran straight, "Bob—” the word came out strangled, gasped out, "under the cube—”

Bob's brows pinch together at your words. Confusion ran up his face. His gaze drifts to where yours is locked, right where he remembers where the colorful cube was. The second his eyes catch the sight of the cube, he gasps out just like you did.

He then reaches for it, for that one creased edge that's peeking from underneath the cube. He picks it up slowly, pulling it from underneath the colorful item. His breath quivers as it gets pulled free. It’s nearly the same paper. The edge of a familiar type of paper creased just like yours. Nearly the same card. This version isn’t like yours. Not exactly.

Bob holds the other card gently between his fingers, staring down at the faded drawing of the same two ghosts that were on your card. You’re already leaning closer, eyes locked on the small creased card in his hands. It’s not the same as yours. Not quite.

The ghosts on his card aren’t dancing like the ones on your card.

They’re sitting.

Just like the two of you now. Side by side on a floor colored the same colour as the rug you are sitting on. They have their ends, where their arms are supposed to be, held together. Almost like the two of you are doing now. One of the ghosts leans slightly towards the other, just like you are leaning towards Bob now.

Above the ghost on the left, the one that is leaning, is a pink heart.

Above the one on the right is a soft orange one.

Those two hearts mixed would make the one on your card. Almost like they were each other's future or history. It’s almost like whoever drew it had seen this moment before it happened. Maybe it was meant to.

Bob swallows and his voice barely breaks through the air, "they're not dancing like on yours… they're sitting.”

You nod slowly, still looking at the small card in his hands. It doesn't make sense but also makes huge sense.

“They’re us,” he says with a small chuckle and you let out one too, “this isn’t like your card. It’s… before. Before your card."

“Before the ghosts found each other,” you whisper quietly, your eyes lifting up and his as well. Staring into each other's eyes.

"They were never just ghosts,” Bob softly said and then he looks down back at his card. His finger traces over the line of text on his own card. You look down too, noticing the text as well.

Counted to twenty-two and I thought you’d feel it too!

Your heart nearly drops and so does Bob's. Your own fingers tighten slightly around the edges of your card. You both fall silent, your matching cards resting in your hands.

Bob lets out a low, unsteady laugh after a few moments, "I found this in a book. I stole the book... um, from a library when I was just a kid."

You chuckled at that. You'd never imagine Bob as a book thief. It's almost hard to believe. Your eyes flicker between him and the card in his hands, "you found the card inside?”

“In between the pages,” he nods slowly, "the card just fell out when I opened it. I remember thinking it was weird card. But I kept it as a bookmark."

“What book was it?” you let your finger graze over his, you once again heart the same shattering noise of plates from beneath you. But you tried to let it fall silent against your ears, so did Bob. Completely ignoring the scene below you.

"I can't recall the name of the book, but the author was…” Bob says, thinking about the name for a second, “Svetoslav Staríjski.”

You feel the world slow around you. Like it was suddenly stopped. You then whisper back when you hear that name, "Svetoslav Staríjski..."

Bob turns to you, staring up at you with those blue eyes of his, "you know him?” he asks.

You nod shakily, "um... The doctor who used to take care of me after... all these experiments. He—He that gave me that card."

You stayed silent after. A silence taking over your surroundings. Your knees touching Bob's while you both hold hands tightly, like either of you could vanish in a moment. Bob is the first to break your comfortable silence.

"Do you think he knew?” Bob asks softly, "do you think he meant for us to find each other?”

"I'd like to think so," you smile softly at him. Bob does the same, he looks back down at the card in his hand and then he slides it into his pocket of his corduroy pants, keeping it safe there. You do the same, but zip it up into your tactical vest's pocket near your heart. Keeping it safely hidden. His eyes stay on you again, like he is glued to you. Two ghosts with hearts.

"So... You are my missing ghost," Bob smiles at you with a curved smile, his eyes soft and deep. You look at him back, the same smile on your face, "and you're my missing one."

Two cards, two ghosts, two people.

A silence stretches on for a moment, both of you staring at each other. Then Bob’s voice, quieter this time asks out, "so, what now?”

"We should find a way out of this memory," you glance down at where your knees met and where your hands are holding each others. Bob then squeezes your hand and that makes you look up, he is staring at you. Wide-eyed and waiting.

"I feel like... I need to do something," Bob says, voice trembling slightly, hesitating maybe. You tilt your head, watching him, waiting for him to elaborate. His eyes are wide, something urgent swimming in his eyes. He’s staring at you like the moment might vanish if he blinks, so wide-eyed, "if we don’t get out... I need to—”

“What do you—” you start, but he cuts in quickly before you finish your question.

“I need to kiss you,” he says so quickly that he nearly stumbles over his own words. The sentence rushing out of his lips like a flash of lightning. Those wide, startled blue eyes don’t leave yours.

You don’t speak. You just look at him. But after a moment, you shift, just enough for your knee to nudge his again. His eyes are blown and his cheeks are red. He looks like he’s barely holding himself together. Then, just as you do, he leans in too.

Just as your lips draw close, the entire attic shudders violently. Like an earthquake approaches. Like it's about to shatter underneath your feet.

Bob then suddenly yells out.

Before you can even react, his arms slam around your shoulders, pulling you towards him, hiding your head down. Tucking your head beneath his chin, his body shielding yours. Something wooden, you don't catch sight of what, crashes against your back. The floor trembles beneath you, objects rattling and flying around. Another chair hurls itself at Bob from behind him. Bob is quick to raise his arm and hide his face behind it, the chair breaking as it makes contact with his body. Objects are flying from all the shelves and boxes. Papers are scattered into the air and everything is almost in like a rapidly rotating and growing whirlwind.

You scramble to your feet, Bob rising with you quickly too. Both of you dart away from the flying objects, and you back up until your back is pressing against the wooden wall of the attic.

But then, a sudden force tugs on your shoulders from where you lean against the attic's wooden ceiling-wall. Pulling at your shoulders with invisible force, absolute pain shoots through your shoulder and you cry out. Bob lunges for a nearby wooden stick from a box nearby. He grips it tightly, ready to defend.

You were kinda worried he'd swing the stick at you.

Before he can even strike, another object flies straight at him, slamming into his side with force that sends him falling onto the floor of the attic.

You somehow kick yourself off the wall of the attic that was pulling you and rush to Bob’s side. Your hands wrap his crewneck-covered arms as you help him up back onto his feet.

“Who’s doing this, Bob?" you yell out as you hold on to the man's arm. His eyes were darting around the room. Like he was looking for whoever was doing this, like the Void was hiding somewhere there.

Just then, another, thankfully wooden, heavy object smashes into the back of his head, staggering him forward, "I think I am!” he shouts at you.

Before you can even say anything, another chair flies right towards him, striking him in his back with unexpected force. Bob stumbles into you, and your arms wrap around him to keep him from hitting the floor once again.

Just then, from behind you, a window curtain whips itself from where it was hung. One of the ends wraps itself tightly around your neck, the other wrapping the same way around Bob’s. A choking the breath escapes from your lips. Your vision breaking as it cuts you slowly off. Bob’s mouth hangs open, a line of drool escaping as he gasps for air right at the opposite end of the curtain. Both of you tremble, struggling against the grip.

Both of your hands claw and try to rip off the curtain from the grip on your necks. Then suddenly, your savior bursts in.

Ava suddenly appeared out of complete nowhere. Almost like a miracle.

In a swift slash of her blade cuts through the curtain, freeing both you and Bob from the unforgiving grip of choking. You gasp loudly, the air flooding back into your lungs. Bob’s breath came out instantly as ragged.

From behind Bob, Bucky storms in and rips apart a flying couch that was hurling straight towards the two of you. John follows next and kicks away a speeding object that almost catches at your head. Yelena is there next, kicking away a heavy filled-up box of scraps that was aimed straight at the man in corduroy pants.

Then, Alexei is the last. He rips apart, into two pieces, a pillow that wasn't even moving, "stupid pillow!" he yells out in his thick Russian accent.

You double over, gasping for breath as you pull off a curtain that was clinging to your neck.

"Twenty-Two..." John is the first one to speak, he comes forward and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"We saw you die—" Yelena starts, moving to you too. Her face twisted, almost like she was about to cry. She comes closer to you and stares at you with her longing eyes. Her eyes almost shine as she looks at you. John is next to you too, his hand still on your shoulder, almost like he believes you'd die and vanish if he lets go.

"You were gone!" Yelena finally reaches out, placing her palm so gently on your arm.

"But I'm here now," you tell her and give her a small, comforting smile, and put your hand to where hers is. Right over hers, you give her a small squeeze. Your face then twists, realizing they must have seen their memories as well to be there with you, "what did you see? Are you all okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I have a great past, so I'm totally fine," Bucky is the first to answer and gives an awkward smile to you. You don't really know the man, but you're pretty sure that the man in no way had a great past when his whole arm is completely missing.

"Yeah. This place is messed up," John nods and his hand falling off your shoulder. He steps away, looking around the attic you're in. Bob next to you wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at the new additions in the attic.

"We're here together," Alexei says, nodding at you and his daughter. Then stares at the others around too, "that's what matters."

"Thank you, guys," Bob says from beside you, nodding at everyone, "really..."

"Of course. Here we are, Shane's elite electronics, Thunderbolts," Ava says with humour in her voice but with a stone-like facial expression. You smile weakly at her and Bob next to you shuffles closer to you, his hand making slight contact with yours. Bucky turns to her, and he looks kind of confused but smiles.

"It's not Shane!" Alexei mutters from where he is standing, stretching his arms out.

"Aha, okay. How—How do we get out of here?" John turns to the brown-haired man in corduroy pants and asks him the main question that lingers in everyone's head. You turn towards Bob too, staring up at him. He doesn't turn towards John, but turns his head at you, as if you had asked that question.

"As far as I know it's just... endless rooms," he looks down at you as he explains what he knows about this place.

"Wait. You said that this was the nicest room that you've found. The others were way worse, right?" you turned towards Bob with your whole body, thinking of his past words he told you when you were alone in this attic, sitting close on the worn-out rug.

"Yeah," Bob softly says, his eyes staring down at you.

"Okay, well..." Yelena says from beside you, also staring at the man in blue crewneck, "show us the worst."

You nod at Yelena and then you look at the man beside you. He's still staring down at you without turning his gaze at anyone else in the room. Your hand finds Bob’s, almost without thinking, "you've got to show us the worst one. We will all be there with you, Bob."

He swallows and looks at the others. At everyone in the attic. Then he nods a few times, "alright... I'll show you."

The attic's door creaks open when Bob opens it. Bob shows the stairs downstairs and you are the one to go first down. The others follow in close behind you, Bob on your feet, just a step away. Like he doesn't want to lose you. Again. His eyes constantly flickering to the back of your grey suit covered with the black tactical vest and on the back of your head. The steps creak loudly beneath your feet as you descend down the stairs, you once again hear the same repeated sound of dishes breaking and a man yelling. You don't stop as you reach the bottom and head for the kitchen where the yelling is coming from.

"Where do you think you're going, Robert?" the angred man, most likely Bob's father, yells at Bob, who is just a step behind you. John is the quickest to jump in and smashes his shield against the head of the man, knocking him out cold onto the floor. His reaction was immediate.

"Oh, he seems nice!" Ava commented sarcastically as she stepped over the unconscious body on the floor.

The room then starts breaking down and you're quick to follow Ava, who's moving for the way out. Plates rattled off the table, glass cracked from the windows and the walls started breaking and falling. You all jumped through a closet that you hadn't even caught sight of. Bob just suddenly shoved you into that closet.

You then felt yourself falling down. As if the closet had a hole in the floor. You hit the ground with a groan and clothes started flowing form the sky too. From the closet you came from.

Before you could even stand up and push yourself up, an unexpected object slammed right into the middle of your face. Sending you falling back down. You looked back up and squinted at the figure that hit you. You thought that you might have just gone insane.

A chicken.

Or rather, someone in a ridiculous, oversized chicken costume with his yellow ruffled skin of feathers. Its beak turned into a smile and its face was something that would make a child cry in fear. In the chicken's hand was a twirling sign with some advertisement of Alfredo's Bail Bonds. Whatever that was.

“What the fuck—” you gasped out, but before you could finish, the chicken suited person brought the sign down again, slapping it hard against your head and sending you back down on the floor.

The chicken caught Alexei with the sign, sending the Russian man tumbling away. Alexei crashed against the wall nearby. John stepped forward next, trying to block the chicken's chaotic, but violent swings wih an advertising sign. The chicken was quick to notice and hit the shielded-man with the sign.

Alexei, who was very quick to recover, charged at Bob who was helping you up from the ground. He grabbed Bob firmly by the shoulders, shaking him slightly as if he wanted to get some sense into him, “Bob, if you hit me with that sign one more time—”

Before he could finish, he turned around to charge at the chicken but the twirling sign whirled through the air and smacked him hard across the face. Alexei staggered back. Bob took a step backwards, almost hiding himself behind his own arms, "I was on meth!" he screamed out wildly.

The chicken raised the twirling sign up again, now aiming at Bob. Chicken-suited Bob now trying to attack normal Bob. It charged at Bob witht some wild,chaotic energy burst. Bob barely had time to turn his head away, but Bucky moved fast.

He lunged forward, sliding in front of Bob just in time to have his fist connected with the chicken’s face. The chicken crumpled backward, falling hard onto its back.

"This way!" sounds out from behind you from the Russian man. He is standing by opened basement-like doors. You all run towards him, going down into the hole while Alexei stands and urges you all to go. He is the last to enter, closing the door behind all of you. Off to the next room of Bob's memories. The way the man in corduroy pants shakes slightly when he enters tells you that the next room may be the worst one.

The final chapter of Bob's memories is waiting just in front of you. But this time, Bob isn't alone. He isn't alone to fight his own fears. Together, you’re ready for whatever may come. Whatever the room before you holds. You all will face it as one. Because you’re here for each other. Just like Alexei said, you're here together and that's what matters.

You’ll get out of this nightmare alive. You have to.

hope you liked this! if yes, comments and feedback are very appreciated! <3

this chapter is definitely one of my favourite ones!!!! i put my whole imagination into work when i thought of some sad :( memories that twenty-two could've had. also oooh the backtoback-past-to-future-destined-to-be-together card i pulled out??? IM PROUD OF THIS sorraaay for yapping bye

TAGLIST: @qardasngan , @one17 , @ren-ni , @werewolfgirl1995 , @mysticdelusionengineer , @lauryn2theelectricboogaloo , @mewmew222 , @badbishsblog , @lovely-foxes-exe , @funkyfable , @melvin333 , @sunflower-0180 , @witch-of-letters , @articel1967 , @kazamys

[anielskaaniela]

How to Read Japanese Sewing Patterns to Sew Clothing

In this post, you will learn how to read and understand japanese sewing patterns to sew amazing clothes from them. Check out my japanese sewing patterns [here]. Japanese sewing patterns are renowned for their precision, elegance, and unique style. However, they can seem daunting for beginners due to the different symbols and conventions used. This step-by-step guide aims to demystify Japanese…

[aventurineswife]

Hello, I just had the cutest idea, for Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, and Jiaoqiu, what if the reader dressed up their toddler in a mini version of their father's outfit, ngl lie I think that would be so cute.

Little Reflections

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Blade x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Fluff, Family Bonding, Domestic Moments, Miniature Costumes, Parental Love, Tender Interactions, Slice of Life.

Jing Yuan lounged on a garden bench in the Luofu’s arboretum, a cup of tea balanced delicately in his hand. The peaceful atmosphere seemed to mirror his unhurried demeanor. Despite his reputation as the "Dozing General," his eyes missed nothing—especially not the sound of small, uneven footsteps heading his way.

He turned his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You approached, holding the hand of your toddler, who waddled toward him with as much dignity as a two-year-old could muster. Jing Yuan's sharp gaze softened when he noticed what the child was wearing: a perfectly tailored miniature version of his own uniform.

The tiny cape draped over your child’s shoulders fluttered with each step, and the golden accents on their blouse glimmered in the sunlight. Even the nian-inspired armor on their right arm had been lovingly recreated, though made of light fabric instead of metal.

“Look who’s decided to join the Cloud Knights,” Jing Yuan teased, setting down his cup. He crouched and opened his arms as the toddler tottered into his embrace.

“Say hello to General Jing Yuan,” you teased back, watching as the child babbled nonsensical sounds, clearly more interested in tugging at Jing Yuan's ponytail ribbon than any formality.

Jing Yuan chuckled, adjusting the red ribbon so it wouldn’t be pulled loose. “I must say, this little knight already looks the part. Who made this for them?”

“I had some help from the tailors,” you admitted. “But the design is all mine. Do you like it?”

Jing Yuan stood, cradling the toddler in one arm while placing a hand on your shoulder with the other. “Like it? I love it. Though I think they might upstage me at the next council meeting.”

You laughed. “Well, maybe they’ll share the workload, too.”

Jing Yuan smirked, looking down at the child now trying to gnaw on the tassel hanging from their hip. “Perhaps. But for now, I’ll enjoy having both of my little stars by my side.”

Blade was rarely one to let emotions show, but when he stepped into your living quarters and saw your toddler standing proudly in the middle of the room, even he paused.

The child was dressed in a miniature version of Blade’s attire, complete with a tiny replica of his tailcoat. The red inner lining peeked out with every wobbling step they took toward him, and the dark blue embroidery shimmered faintly in the dim light. They even had a bandaged arm and a toy sword strapped to their waist.

“Is this your idea?” Blade asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

You smiled from where you sat nearby, a sewing kit still on the table. “Do you like it? They wanted to look like their papa.”

The child reached Blade and tugged at his coat, their bright red eyes looking up at him expectantly. Blade knelt, his usually piercing gaze softening as he reached out to brush a hand over the child’s head.

“You’ve done well,” he murmured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or the toddler.

The child giggled, gripping the toy sword and thrusting it forward with all their might. “Fight bad guys!” they announced, their high-pitched voice echoing in the room.

Blade chuckled—a rare, genuine sound that you hadn’t heard in a long time. “You’ll need a lot more training for that.”

You approached, resting a hand on Blade’s shoulder. “I thought it might make you smile. Do you like it?”

He stood, the child now perched on his arm, their small hands gripping his coat. “I do,” he admitted quietly. “It’s...perfect.”

Sunday was deep in thought when you entered his study, guiding your toddler into the room. His sharp eyes shifted from his documents to the sight before him, and he froze.

The child wore a small version of his regal Halovian outfit, complete with a tiny halo hovering above their head—a clever accessory you’d crafted using lightweight materials. The gold cross-shaped cutouts on their gloves and the navy wing-like vest were lovingly recreated, and the soft gray blazer hung slightly oversized on their small frame.

“Is this...my little successor?” Sunday’s voice was tinged with amusement, though his piercing gaze softened as he took in the sight.

You grinned. “They wanted to dress like their papa. What do you think?”

The toddler toddled toward him, their hands reaching out to grab at the papers on his desk. Sunday leaned down and scooped them up, careful not to disturb the halo balancing atop their head.

“I think they’re a vision of perfection,” he said, his tone warm. “Though I might need to keep them away from my work.”

The child giggled, their small hands patting Sunday’s face. “Papa!” they exclaimed, clearly delighted to have his attention.

Sunday chuckled, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “Perhaps this is a sign,” he mused, looking at you. “A reminder to step away from work every now and then.”

You smiled. “I thought it might bring some joy to your day.”

“It has,” he said, cradling the child in one arm. “Though I think our little angel might outshine me in this outfit.”

Jiaoqiu sat quietly on the veranda, his feather fan resting on his lap. Despite his blindness, his ears perked up at the sound of light footsteps approaching, accompanied by your soft laughter.

“Who’s there?” he asked gently, his closed eyes tilting toward the noise.

“It’s us,” you replied, guiding your toddler closer. “And we brought a surprise.”

The child toddled forward, their tiny hands gripping the edge of Jiaoqiu’s robes. They were dressed in a miniature version of his healer’s attire, complete with a feather fan of their own. The soft salmon-colored fabric matched Jiaoqiu’s hair perfectly, and their fluffy fox ears twitched with excitement.

Jiaoqiu’s lips curved into a smile as he reached out, his fingers brushing over the child’s outfit. “What’s this?” he murmured.

“They wanted to be like you,” you explained, kneeling beside him. “Do you like it?”

The child climbed onto Jiaoqiu’s lap, giggling as they waved their tiny fan. Jiaoqiu let out a soft laugh, his hands resting gently on the child’s shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice warm. “Though I think they’ll make a better healer than I ever could.”

You leaned against his shoulder, watching as he playfully ruffled the child’s hair. “I just thought it might make you smile.”

Jiaoqiu turned his face toward you, his gentle expression full of gratitude. “It did,” he said quietly. “Thank you—for reminding me that even in the darkness, there is light.”

[soov]

CUSTOM-MADE。 yang jungwon

fem reader & fashion student jungwon ᗢ 15OO words ━━ fluff ꕀ college!au, situationship, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing, suggestive (?)

“Do you like it?”

The black pen that was being spun around between Jungwon’s fingers stopped its movements as he held it with a bit too much force. He tilted his head towards you and chuckled sweetly, “Love it, even. Give me a twirl?”

Doing as he requested, you smiled bashfully like every other time you tried on his pieces. “Feels a bit awkward to breathe in this shirt, Won. The right side’s too tight.” You took wary steps towards him, fiddling with the ends of the miniskirt carefully so as not to prickle your finger with the pins.

He hurried to your side with his measuring tape in hand, “Really? It looks perfect on you.” Jungwon frowned, worrying more about your comfort than having to redo the shirt.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to adjust it.” You commented as his tape encircled your ribs. You had to suck in a breath when he playfully squeezed your side to ease you up. “Did you wash it? The cotton could’ve shrunk.”

“Mm, yeah, I did. Must be it.” He nodded and wrote down your measurements before approaching you again with a cheeky grin.

Jungwon grabbed your hands into his soft ones and guided you to the studio’s mirror. “Look at you.” He went behind you so you’d have a better view of yourself. “You look so beautiful in this set.”

And he wasn’t lying when he said that. He had been working on the beige blazer, plaid skirt, and snug shirt for the past few weeks. Jungwon felt incredibly happy with the outcome and how it fits your body; after all, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it would be surprising if something — apart from the minor washing incident — went wrong.

”You’re flattering me too much, Won. You should be proud of yourself first.” Staring at your attire, you did your best not to react to how he wrapped you up in his arms, his broad chest glued to your back.

“Oh, I am. I’m getting better, right? But I’m not flattering you enough.” Jungwon spoke lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look stunning. It would be a sin not to praise how gorgeous you look in it.”

You looked away from the mirror at how vocal the fashion student was. It was common to see him make a few nice comments and go back to grumbling about how he should’ve used a different kind of fabric, not kiss the ground you walked on.

His caresses, on the other hand, were too familiar, even when you two were stuck in a weird friendship with lover benefits. You didn’t mind it when one of you snuck a quick kissing session between his sewing and clothing adjustments, which also seemed to be his subtle plan for the day.

Jungwon dipped his nose to your neck, right before the collar of your blazer started, “I have a new project for my next class. Might make you that dress you wanted so much.” The boy mumbled, lazily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Holding the strong arms that were around your stomach, you tilted your head back to give him more access and gasped happily, “Really? You’re not joking, right?”

“Of course not.” He let out a small laugh and the sound reverberated against your skin. His plump lips pressed to the sensitive spot under your ear for a few seconds before pulling away. “You’ve been my model since senior year, I need to start making more of the clothes you want.”

The promise was so simple and stupid, but you still turned to latch yourself onto him.

“You’re the best, did you know that?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his whole face, to which he replied with a satisfied, wolfish grin.

After your kisses landed on every possible place but his favorite one, Jungwon raised his index and meekly tapped his mouth. “Missed a spot.” He reminded you cheekily with his eyebrows raised.

His tap on his lips made you laugh, happiness bubbling inside you. Jungwon didn’t even bother to move his eyes elsewhere when you caught his gaze, maintaining eye contact for as much as possible.

You took a moment to drink in the sight of him as he did to you. His bangs fell perfectly just above his eyes, and his mouth curled up in a beam. He looked so cute when he was excited — you could see the stars in his irises just from knowing he’d get a kiss. Unhurriedly, you leaned in, your hands still cradling his face, and pressed your lips to his.

The act was tender and quite desperate, but there was no one to blame except the three weeks when the boy had been cooped up in his studio. Jungwon’s lips were so sweet that you swore you were going to get a cavity just from the kiss.

He was getting so lost into you, nearly whining as his hands squeezed your body, head dizzy. But then, almost as if afraid of crossing an invisible line, Jungwon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyelids were still closed, his breathing uneven, and you could feel his nervousness in the way he held you.

“Relax,” you soothed despite digging your fingers into his strong triceps.

He responded with another hum, his palms slipping under the fabric of the shirt he had made, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. The tailor trailed his mouth along your cheeks, up to your temples, the sensation littering your skin in goosebumps.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face as he mumbled, “You’re everything to me.”

Truth be told, he wanted to be yours, needed you, but didn’t dare to voice it. The fear of crossing this fine line, the fear of trying something new, held him back. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Repeatedly, Jungwon pecked you and leaned back with a kissy face. Then, with a soft chuckle, he said, “I guess I should finish adjusting the shirt.”

“Yeah, you should,” still a bit dazed, you agreed, though part of you wished you could stay like this forever.

As he went back to work, measuring and pinning with a focused look on his face, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to touch him. You moved closer again, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted a pin. Jungwon glanced up, catching your loving eyes on him.

He smiled, a soft and genuine smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. ”Thanks for being my muse,” he said quietly.

You took in the sight of him so close, his features soft in the dim light of the studio. The curve of his nose, how his thick eyebrows arched highly, and his feline-like eyes that crinkled with his beam, all didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Jungwon…” You whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say. No words felt adequate.

“I…” The tailor began, but his tongue seemed to fail him too. Instead, he cupped your jaw with his nimble fingers, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a gesture so careful it made your heart ache.

There were so many things you wanted to say, try and ask why you didn’t just get together, or why you were being so hesitant, but it was obvious that none of you had the answer for it.

While you leaned into his touch, you murmured a question, “What are we doing?”

Jungwon’s thumb stilled on your cheek as he pondered over your puzzle. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I... seriously don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Jungwon’s palm slid from your cheek to your neck, creating a path down to your collarbone. The touch was almost imperceptible, however, your breath hitched at the sensation. He seemed to be remembering the feeling of you after being too busy with his projects.

Your own hands moved on their own accord, one slipping to his nape, the other resting on his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you spoke, but you could sense how the other wanted to open their mouth and address the elephant in the room.

Finally, unable to stay quiet any longer, your lips brushed against his once more in a kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Jungwon let out a soft groan, his hands tightening on your lower waist as he tugged you closer.

It was different from the previous one — not as urgent, but an attempt to communicate wordlessly. The boy backed you into sitting on his desk, knocking some of his precious utensils off to make you space and ensure your comfort. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about them.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Jungwon’s pupils were completely blown, his gaze holding yours in a silent question.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “We’ll figure it out,” you assured, “one piece of clothing at a time.”

Jungwon nodded with an amused laugh at your dumb joke. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “One piece of clothing at a time.”

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i always wanted a brother is such a goated song

2024 © SOOV

[number44newseries864962]

Need to rant for a minute because even though I have very much been enjoying the fruits of my efforts learning how to sew vintage style clothes, I just swapped out old fatphobia (nice plus size vintage clothes never making it to stores) for new fatphobia (trying to find patterns). Cause it doesn't end at what clothes you're able to buy already made.

I finally bought a Friday Pattern Company pattern the other day, and man it made the bare minimum feel like I was being spoiled. The sizes go up to 7X (that's XL, XXL, 1X, 2X, etc, so there's 9 sizes above L) they had a thin and a fat model on the cover! Usually I'm barely lucky enough to get an XL, and I'm just expected to guess how it's going to look on my body. The majority of their patterns have two differently sized models on the covers, and all of them have that full range of patterns inside.

It is so hard to find good plus size patterns, even if they're available, many companies just scale up their mediums and I can't guarantee they're actually sized correctly for a different shape. As good as Friday is, them and other modern indie pattern companies aren't easy to find.

Okay well what if I went another step deeper, what if I forgo patterns all together and decide to be completely independent and draft things myself?

Then I'll need a plus size dress form. I got lucky and found one at an antique mall for 50$ but these are incredibly rare and more expensive than smaller ones. I'll need to learn how to draft patterns, something that was taught to me on a XS form by my college and nearly every tutorial out there. Drafting close fitting clothes for fat bodies is a completely different skillset, because all that extra fat is much squishier and shifts more. Measuring yourself correctly and getting the shape you're looking for is far more important. Before I even got there I'd need to sketch out what I wanted to make, right? Well the patterning book my family got me only shows you how to draw tall, skinny people. A beginner would have to look up their own drawing references and tutorials because what what supposed to be a super accessible beginner's guide to fashion has decided their body isn't normal enough for the baseline tutorial.

We're expected to be the ones who put in the extra effort. Digging to find the pattern companies that fit our shape and actually prove they can, paying extra in shipping or driving farther to pick them up. Having to search specifically for plus size tutorials for drafting and sketching. It's always treated like it's not part of the beginner's experience to be working with a fat body, that's just going to make people more frustrated and lost and less likely to pursue something they're excited about! Especially if it's in response to already being frustrated about the lack of clothing options.

We need a little positivity to this post so to end on a high note, here's me modeling the blazer I just finished with a shirt I made a couple years ago!

Being able to finally wear clothes I really feel like me in has been an amazing confidence boost. It's not fair that there's so many roadblocks in the way for someone who looks like me who just wants to wear things they enjoy.

[doggyspeakart]

✩ Make your own Kyrii Plushie ✩

Thank you @free-sewing-patterns and @jestersneopia for asking so kindly for me to release my pattern dupe! :3 These guys are very intricate little plushies so I did my best to make something comprehensive. I also made detailed instructions which I will include after the readmore, so long post ahead!

McD's Plush Kyrii

What you will need:

•The two included images printed on 8.5"x11" (A4/Letter) paper.

•Enough of your desired Fabrics (reference the pattern size on your paper, you don't really need much at all)

✩ I recommend a short pile faux fur or other nonstretch fabric for the two body colors, and a long pile (1-4cm) faux fur for the mane and tail.

✩ You can also make the mane and tail using yarn or doll hair wefts by attaching them (sewn or glued) to a backing fabric like cotton or felt.

•Scissors or precision knife to cut fabric.

•Sewing implements (needle, pins, thimble, thread scissors, etc.)

•Thread matching one or both of your body color fabrics.

•black thread or embroidery floss for the mouth embroidery.

✩embroidery floss or thread in your desired eye colors (recommended a white for sclera, an iris color, and a black for outlines)✩OR✩buttons or safety eyes in your desired size and color.

•Stuffing (two or three handfuls of polyfill will do the job)

✩ribbon or cord to use as arm tension band and/or a loop to clip hardware like keychains and backpack hangers.

((✩ optional ))

General note: default suggested stitch length is 3mm apart unless stated otherwise.

Step 1

Print out the pattern, making sure to format your printer to use the full page with no margins. Check print preview to be sure nothing is cut off. (I made the piece inventory sheet to sort of offset any default margin weirdness but I'm new to this so let me know if it messes up.)

Step 2

Conceptualize your design and gather your materials. Are you cloning one of the plushies already out there, or making your own design? It is always good to keep reference on hand during any art project!

What special design elements are you translating to plush form? Keep in mind this pattern is small and intricate and it might be easier to omit or simplify certain design elements if you are working from something more detailed.

The cutting guide assumes 1 base color, 1 accent color, and 1 fur color with no significant shape, size, or design difference to the original McD's plushie. (Only a few fixes for symmetry and fur direction.)

Step 3

Prepare your base material for cutting. If you are doing embroidery or applique designs this may be easier while the fabric is flat and whole. Same with fur wefting, do anything like that while you have one big piece of fabric to work with. Trace the pattern pieces using chalk, heat erase pen, or some other washable marking tool using the cut guide provided. (I recommend cutting out any shape you need to add details to from the pieces inventory page, then trace those pieces on your fabric in roughly the same positions as the cut guide page.) Then do any embroidery or details you need to do while the pattern is flat.

Embroidery tips:

• Use a stiff backing piece like interfacing or felt behind your fabric to make the embroidery more durable and stiff.

•Use a back stitch or chain for lines, line in color for crisp color-changes.

•Parallel vertical lines close together catch the light and read as blocks of color best.

•Don't use stitches that are too long or loose, build stitches up diagonally like a brick pattern instead, the key is to attempt to stay parallel.

•If you are using sewing thread instead of embroidery thread, use two or three strands at once to save time.

•When you are done, cut away your backing fabric/interfacing a little outside where your embroidery stops so as not to interfere with future seams.

Step 4

Cut out your materials. If you didn't need to trace from the pieces inventory for pre-cut details, then you can just pin the cut guide paper to your fabric and cut it directly. Otherwise simply follow your trace and cut out your pieces. Be sure to keep track of which pieces go on the left and right of your plushie.

Step 5

Begin assembly by sewing all your darts first, those will be on each side of your face, inner leg, arm bottom, belly, and back pieces. Follow the blue lines that appear anywhere that says "dart" and any sew lines that create a V-like dip in the perimeter of the piece (like the arm bottom and belly pieces). Fold the seam allowance inside your seam so that the right sides of the fabric end up with a clean, unnoticeable seam. I recommend a tight, short straight-stitch about 2mm apart on darts.

Step 6

Make the loose body parts.

Sew together ears, arms, and tail by placing right sides together and sewing around based on the solid black lines in the pattern.

•Each ear will have a base color piece and an accent color piece. Make sure their shape lines up so that right sides of the fabric are together. The ear pieces are fairly flat and their sew lines should line up perfectly. Use any stitch you are comfortable with, straight stitch about 3mm apart works just fine.

•Sew one top arm piece and one bottom arm piece together for each arm. The discrepancy in their shapes creates a slight twist that gives the arm part a tube-like shape. I recommend pinning the pieces at the ends and wrist first to get the tension/gathering correct on the arm part. Any stitch works but a straight stitch will probably be easier to keep track of tension with or to rip if you make a mistake and need to retry. Keep it tight, about 2mm apart.

•For the tail, sandwich your pieces right sides together so that all the fur is tucked inside and you can sew the edges with a secure stitch like a whip or back stitch.(about 3-4mm apart) You might need to pick or brush out the fibers if they get caught in the seam.

Once you finish each piece, flip it inside out, wrong sides should remain inside while the right sides of the fabric show and all seam allowance remains inside. If any edges are having trouble flipping inside out, use a thin tool like a crochet hook or chopstick to prod them from the inside.

Stuff the 2 arms until they hold a 3D shape, firm fill recommended. Leave the other pieces in this step unstuffed.

You should have two ears, two arms, and one fluffy tail.

Step 7

Shape the face.

With the dart now sewn into the cheek, the two seams with the || registration marks should be much closer in length. Line the seam up according to the marks and fudge the rest of the length using tension. I recommend  using a ladder stitch on the right sides while keeping in mind the general size of the seam allowance.

Repeat on the other side.

When you are done, your face piece should have curvy cheeks.

Step 8

Build up the head.

Connect the forehead piece to the face piece, the curve's center goes right above the nose.

Sew in the chin piece along lower jaw.

There is a bit of leeway into how long the ears will be and which angle they stick out. For best results, give it a test right side out and pin where you like the ears to stay.

The ears go into the notches on the top of the face piece, about half of the ear should fit into that notch. Sew it into that notch, any remaining ear folds around that top seam towards the forehead and is stitched down to give the ear a slight curve that helps it remain upright.

When you're finished you should have the (bald) head.

Step 9

Construct the body.

Sew the two inner leg pieces onto the sides of the belly piece.

Sew the back pieces onto the belly and inner leg piece, leaving the arm notches alone to make the arm holes. Sew all the way around the inner leg and to the center line on the belly where the dart seam sits. There may be some overlap/extra on the back piece.

Sandwich the tail between the two back pieces and sew them together. You can adjust the angle of the tail before you sew it in, the original plushie has its tail sticking up behind the back. (Tip: if you fully close the tail seam you can use a loose couple of stitches to attach it to the body to make a hanging tail that wags when you pick up and shake the plushie.)

Your current parts should be a head, a body, two arms, and the hair piece.

Step 10

Attaching the hair piece to the head.

(OPTIONAL): First, if you want to add a keychain loop like the original plushies, snip two tiny holes into the backing of your hair piece about 6mm apart and feed a small length of cord or ribbon inside to create a loop on the outside.

Leave plenty of slack on the ends of the loop for a more sturdy hold.

Secure the loop and holes with a lot of sewing and/or glue to keep the fur fabric from fraying. Stitch down the ends of the cord/ribbon to the backing of your hair piece.

Start sewing the hair piece to the head beginning with the hairline along the forehead to get it nice and clean. Next sew across the ears and down the face piece on both sides.

Your head should now have hair, with the rest of the mane hanging down behind.

Step 11

Sew head to body.

Make sure the chin piece lines up to the belly piece, the bottom of the head should line up with the rest of the back piece on either side.

Next, sew down one side of the hair piece to the back piece, connecting the bottom edge to the seam near the tail and stopping.

Leave the other side seam of the hair piece open for arm adjustment and stuffing.

Step 12

Attach the arms.

Tension Band Explanation:

The original plushies have an arm tension band inside to keep the plushie's shape and seams intact when pulling on the arms. Generally I think this can be skipped without much issue, but could be a good idea if you plan to use this as a bag hanger or keychain plush, as the arms are the extremities most susceptible to getting caught on things, and when they are secured more comprehensibly they are less likely to rip the plush apart when yanked. Not a big deal if you just plan to keep them around the house.

(OPTIONAL): If you want to install your own arm tension band, start with the plushie right-sides-out. Sew the band to one arm and pull it taught through the chest to the other arm, securing the tension band before sewing the arms into the body piece.

To sew the arms, be sure to pose them and pin them in place right-side out first. (originals usually have one arm down and the other up on their chins/waving, though they vary a lot and there are plenty of ways to position them for different expressions.)

Then, either turn insideout again or ladder stitch the arms into place.

Almost there! You should have all your pattern pieces together at this point.

Step 13

Stuffing the plushie.

Make sure your plushie is right side out, with no incorrect seams or holes other than one of the seams between the hair piece and back piece. If you need to, gently prod a crochet hook or chopstick along the backs of seams to turn them out.

OPTIONAL: To make a weighted plush, add a small mesh bag of plastic pellets or weight of your choice to the bottom of the plushie before stuffing.

Add in your polyfill, pillow fluff, yarn fibers, scraps, or whatever you decide to stuff the plushie with, paying attention to the density of the stuffing.

I recommend keeping the head and feet more densely stuffed to keep their shape while leaving the body a bit more loose for a squishable belly.

Step 14

Close up the last seam.

Using a ladder stitch, close up your last seam, pulling tight and tying off your thread at the end for a clean, invisible seam.

Now that all the seams are in, you can now brush or pick any long fibers from the hair and tail out of the seams.

The plushie is whole! You can keep it like it is, or do some thread sculpting for a more finished look!

Step 15

Thread Sculpting.

(OPTIONAL):

Using thread in the color of your body fabrics, you can pull tension at various points to create a more sculpted shape. The original had two through the face (vertically through the chin up behind the forehead, and horizontally between the corners of the eyes), and two over top of each hand and foot to look like the separation of the toes. See the original pattern pieces for precise placement.

And that's it! You should have a finished plush kyrii!

If you have any questions or concerns please contact doggyspeak. Feel free to use this pattern, share it, or edit it with or without credit.

PLEASE DO NOT SELL THIS PATTERN OR INSTRUCTIONS! IT IS BOTH NOT ORIGINALLY DESIGNED BY ME AND ALSO SOMETHING I'VE WORKED VERY HARD ON!

If you would like to see more pattern reconstructions from me, show me your finished plushies and provide feedback and suggestions to me. I would love to see what you have made and hear what you'd like to see next! ^o^

[solxamber]

Hi! Can I have a request for skully j. graves with a fem reader? (romantic)

Where his s/o wears a clothing style like sally? Since skully clothing is like skellington, she even wore makeup up like sally's! Imagine the couple wears like jack skellington and sally <3

Bonus: reader shyly asked if Sally can make a clothing style like hers AHHHH cute interaction with her 😭💕

Skully J. Graves x reader

I hope it's not too ooc and I hope you like it <3

It’s a crisp, shadowy evening in Halloween Town, and the air practically hums with excitement. The strange blend of mystery and delight is palpable—especially with Halloween just around the corner. You and Skully have been together for a while now, and tonight, you’re ready to take the plunge and ask Sally something you’ve been thinking about for ages.

With a deep breath, you approach Sally as she sits under a gnarled tree, busy at work stitching up a new creation. She hums softly to herself, her needlework delicate and precise. There’s something serene about her, something calming—though, as you sneak a glance back at Skully bouncing on his feet with excitement, you realize not everything about Halloween Town is peaceful.

“Um, Sally?” you call out, walking up with a shy smile. “Can I ask you something?”

Sally looks up from her sewing, her expression warm and welcoming. “Of course. What is it?”

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “I… I’ve always loved your dress, and your whole look, really. I was wondering if… if you could help me make something similar?”

Sally’s eyes light up with surprise and pleasure. “You want to make a dress like mine?” she asks, setting aside her needle and thread. “I’d be more than happy to help.”

Her excitement makes you feel a bit more comfortable, and you sit down beside her as she explains how she pieces together scraps of fabric and stitches them by hand. She’s patient as she teaches you, her soft voice guiding you through each step.

“It’s all about finding pieces that fit together,” she says, threading a needle with ease. “Just like how you and Skully do. You complement each other well.”

That comment makes you blush, but you smile in return. “Thank you, Sally. This means a lot.”

Sally’s hand gently rests on yours, offering a kind smile. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m just glad you’re making something that feels true to you.”

The next few days are spent working on the dress, with Sally guiding you and encouraging your creativity. And when you finally finish, you feel a sense of pride that matches the joy in your heart. The dress is a patchwork of colors, stitched together like pieces of a story, and it’s perfect. To complete the look, you add a bit of makeup to match Sally’s iconic stitched appearance.

As you step out wearing the dress for the first time, Skully’s reaction is immediate and unmistakable. His wide eyes, slack jaw, and dramatic gasp make you laugh, though his sheer excitement is impossible to ignore.

“My dear,” Skully exclaims, rushing over to you with a flourish. “You… you look absolutely stunning! Truly, a masterpiece! This—this is the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen!”

His excitable energy radiates from him, and his hands flutter around you like he’s unsure where to start with his compliments. “The stitching, the colors, the sheer brilliance of it all!” he continues, twirling you around to get the full effect. “You’ve captured the essence of Halloween Town itself!”

You can’t help but grin at his reaction, feeling the warmth of his admiration. “It’s thanks to Sally,” you say modestly. “She helped me put it all together.”

“Ah, but it’s you who brings it to life!” Skully declares, grabbing your hand and twirling you in a playful spin. “You, my love, are a true artist.”

As the evening continues, the two of you walk hand in hand through Halloween Town, an eye-catching pair with your Jack and Sally-inspired looks. The town’s usual eerie glow seems even more magical tonight, and the townspeople can’t help but notice. Some smile and wave, while others chuckle at Skully’s over-the-top commentary about how “perfectly terrifying” the two of you look together.

When you reach the iconic hill with its curled peak, Skully pauses, his hand still clasped in yours. He turns to you with a wide grin, his excitement now tempered by a softer, more heartfelt emotion.

“I have to say,” he begins, his voice still brimming with energy, “you’ve made this town feel even more magical. It’s always been my home, but with you here, it’s… it’s like the spirit of Halloween itself is stronger.”

His words touch you deeply, and you step closer, resting your head on his chest as he wraps his arm around you. “I feel the same way,” you admit softly. “Halloween Town has never felt more like home than when I’m with you.”

Skully pulls you in tighter, a genuine smile lighting up his face. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” he says dramatically, looking out over the eerie landscape. “The King of Halloween and his perfect Queen.”

You laugh at his flair, though the sentiment warms you from the inside out. You chuckle, your voice filled with affection. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As the two of you stand there, the glow of Halloween Town casting long shadows, you realize that this is where you’re meant to be. With Skully by your side, everything feels like it’s fallen into place—just like the pieces of the patchwork dress you now wear.

And in true Skully fashion, as he sweeps you up into his arms for a grand twirl, you realize that his dramatic flair and excitable nature make every day with him an adventure. A perfect, spooky, and utterly charming adventure.

Masterlist