#i got a carpet that I don't want to step on because it's so fuzzy

[deva-arts]

You gonna stream now that finals are over or am I gonna have to start crying again?

I'm setting up my studio right as I type this, actually! yay! no more streaming in my room! I finally have a desk! and sanity! Needless to say I'll be streaming soon enough, so save your tears lol

Please wish me luck because i'm setting up strip lights and I don't want to ruin my wall

[hapinesbuterfiy]

casual - rafe cameron ೨౿

🎧🪩 casual - chappell roan

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe have been casually seeing each other for what feels like forever now, but is your relationship really casual?

warnings: angsty, rafe is a dick in some parts, not proofread!!

"baby, no attachment" is a phrase you know all too well, one that rafe cameron whispers to you between passionate kisses, before getting on his knees and devouring your pussy in the passenger seat of his jeep. nothings official between you two. you're relationship is casual, according to rafe. he's confusing, to say the least.

rafe could be all over you, wrapping his arms around your waist in front of the entire club, drunkenly telling you how beautiful you looked. he'd call you in the middle of the night, to say "m' pickin' you up be ready in 5. we'll go to that diner you like, i miss your face." you spent countless nights with each other, sharing your deepest secrets and the most intimate parts of yourselves. your favorite bra is still in his dresser from the first time you hooked up, and he refuses to give it back to you because he likes the "constant reminder of your tits." you even got invited to spend a weekend with him and his family in paradise island.

but you're relationship is casual. right?

you hate yourself for letting it drag out this long. rafe's different around his friends, distant. there are even rumors going around that you're "just a girl he bangs on the couch." you try your best to be nonchalant and give him his space, but deep down you know you're not capable of that.

it's casual but you spend hours on late-night phone calls, having the deepest conversations and confiding in each other with things you have never told anyone else. you're his casual hook-up but picks you up in the middle of the night to take you back to tannyhill because he misses you. so really, is it casual? no.

it's 1:52 am. you find yourself underneath your plush duvet cover, you're small reading light illuminating the space, on facetime with rafe, again. you always carefully listen to everything he has to say, trying your best to console him, especially when it comes to everything going on with his dad. however, this time it's different. you're sick of the constant state of confusion he puts you in, you decide that now is the perfect opportunity for you to confront him about it.

"rafe. can you come pick me up? i wanna talk to you about something." you're soft-spoken but your tone is stern, you're not going to allow yourself to continue to play these games with him, you want answers.

he's unfazed by your request, simply grumbling in response. you can hear his bed squeak as he gets up and grabs his keys off his nightstand. he mumbles "mhm, text when i'm there." before ending the call.

you rush to your dresser, throwing on your favorite brandy melville set and fuzzy slippers, he'll be here soon. rafe's massive headlights could be seen from down the block, you didn't need him to text you to be aware of his arrival.

you step up into the passenger seat, carefully shutting the door behind you as you get into the truck.

"hi. missed you today. what did you wanna talk about?" he motions his hand toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh under your shorts. the truck was freezing. you could feel the goosebumps appear throughout your limbs as you sat their, you're only relief from the cold being rafe's hands.

"rafe... i know you said no attachment but i can't do this whole casual thing anymore. 'm not that kinda girl." you're eyes dart down to the carpet beneath your seat, trying you're best to avoid contact with him until he responds. .

he lets out a large, exasperated sigh as he removes his hand from your thigh, brushing his fingers through his greasy curtain bangs as he shakes his head.

"listen kid. alright? 'm not in the headspace to be in a relationship right now. i don't wanna get into anythin' serious. i don't wanna hurt you. yea?" he brings his focus back to the road ahead of him, driving around in circles as his firmly grips the wheel.

your face drops. you're in complete disbelief that he had the audacity to say that to you. "you don't wanna hurt me? are you fuckin' kidding me? rafe you're casual bullshit has been hurting me for the past six months." you begin to yell, anger completely taking over you.

he pulls over, not wanting to get distracted while driving, he knows how much you hate it when he doesn't pay attention to the roads. "hurting you huh? so you mean to tell me that i'm hurtin' you by buying you shit, listening to your rants, and givin' you the best sex you ever fuckin' had? really?" he throws his arms up in defense, licking his lips while eyeing you down.

you could feel the tears starting to spill out from your eyes. you manage to let out a "rafe it's not fair, i can't just do casual" between sniffles, you place your head into your hands as you continue to sob into them. oh shit— he knows he fucked up.

he parts his lips, letting out a large exhale as he tries to come up with a quick way to calm you down. he moves his body so his torso is situated above the glove box, making it easier to reach you. he pulls you into his arms, wiping the tears off of your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, pepping soft kisses to the top of your head.

"sh. i know. i know. 'm big bad rafe cameron yea? 'm sorry i hurt you. i gotta figure my shit out. 'm gonna take you back to my place, we'll talk about it in the mornin' alright?"

you nod in response, embarrassed that you let yourself break down like this in front of him. you know it's wrong, but maybe you weren't delusional after all. maybe when you wake up in the morning you wont be casual anymore.

[hidefdoritos]

Patch on a Pocket

Hello everyone! I'm back with my latest DIY: fixing a cargo pocket that tore out.

I had my work ID badge in this pocket, and I caught it on a truck door. It's a messy tear! When I was brand new to mending, I would've given up. But I have two options: unpick this pocket and use it as a template for a replacement, or try a patch. I tried the patch.

Step one: Clean up the fuzzy edges.

Hmm. Yeah, since chunks of the original fabric are missing, I can't whip the edges back together. I need a patch.

If I'd actually torn the shorts fabric, I'd have put a patch on the inside and another patch on the outside, so the raw edges would be encased in a "patch sandwich." However, this is just the pocket. The inside of the mend doesn't have to withstand the washing machine. I decided instead to...

Step 2: Whipstitch around the tear.

I don't like the look of a whipstitch on a tear, and in my experience, when done on the outside, it disintegrates in the wash. But for the inside of a pocket, it's actually fine. I used marigold thread because I hate the color and have too much of it.

Step three: Prep a patch that's bigger than the tear.

I measured a 4-by-4 square-ish and pinned it flat onto the moving box that's protecting my carpet. Then I used my nail polish brush and my white mystery paint to paint a spiderweb. I've been inspired by goths lately, I guess.

Step four: Hem the patch.

This one isn't necessary--you can do it while you affix the patch--but I just got my machine back from the shop and wanted to try it out.

Step four point five: Pin the patch to the pocket.

I didn't measure well for the patch, and I'm extremely lucky that it just barely covers all the tear. Also I stuck scrap cardboard in the pocket so I couldn't actually sew it shut.

Step 5: Sew on and admire!

Here's the finished look! It took me a few hours (longer than making a new pocket would've taken), but I like it a lot. I did a few tiny stitches on the inside to keep that big corner of the tear anchored to the patch. I also put a few studs on the shorts because why not!

[feastfic]

He keeps you entangled in this web, this ever-growing maze of rooms and buildings and facilities. One doorway will land you from the interior of a museum to the open abyss of an empty storage unit. You can run, or walk, or crawl, but you cannot get out.

You don't even know how you got here.

But he watches you, through cameras and omnipotence. He can just feel you within the bowels of his presence, this twisting of dimensions at his whim. How he so loves to speak to you, telling you how you befell another misfortune, why you behave the way you do. All in a tone of voice that is too pleasant and casual. Mocking you, almost. You're certain that he is.

Sometimes you can catch glimpses of him, but it is never the same thing. Camera lenses are your best shot at it. All you can tell is that whatever he is, there is a glint to his eye, an invisible smirk.

Oh, no, my dear; you don't understand. He speaks to you, it feels like it's through an intercom in this new place you stepped into. It's a supermarket, and he has put you into the shoes of a new and clumsy employee. The mistakes, the fumbling, you tripping over yourself; he takes great joy in it, sends his formless body abuzz.

When he feels like it, he can just snatch you up and discard you into a new room of his choosing. You don't ever know when this will happen next, or even why. Sometimes you think it's just because he's bored of your blunders, and wants to put you into a new stressful situation.

This time, it's an empty building. You don't know what it's for, or what it could possibly be either. The floor is covered in black carpet, the walls painted metallic grey. Fluorescent tube lights high above your head illuminate the floor, circles of light dotting the path (there is no path. Looking behind leads to the same hall as if you looked forward.) You breathe into your hands, rub them together. It's cold, and you just have to press on.

The chill won't kill you; he would never kill you. But he will make you painfully uncomfortable.

The lights are more spaced out the further you walk, the walls closing in. So tightly that you have to shuffle and squeeze your way through, feel your shirt scraping against the weird fuzzy texture that the wall had slowly morphed into being. Somewhere, you can hear mechanical humming. Somewhere, you can feel him watching you.

You enter upon a large room, after squeezing through the tight space it felt like your lungs could expand again. Blackened monitors line one side of the wall before you, spanning several feet high. It is a circular room, with a raised segment in the middle. On either side of this circular pedestal there are stairs.

You feel pins along your neck, your hair standing on end. It is like breathing, but not quite. You're being compelled to push forward, to go up those stairs.

You rise.

And waiting for you is a simple dashboard, with buttons of all colors. There's a large red one to your right.

Go on. He coaxes you; it sounds like he's right in your ear. Haven't you ever wondered what I do with you in here?

Your fingertips tingle as you lift your hand, reaching for that button. You don't know what you're expecting to see, but whatever it is, it's making your heart pound in your chest. Everywhere along your body it feels like a low electric current is running through you.

As the button is pressed, the monitors flare to life, all blindingly bright and white. Static floods the room, before one by one different clips, all appearing like cam footage, begin to mark the screens. They're all clips of you, in different places, different times. Every single one of your blunders.

Above you he doesn't laugh, but he instead purrs his amusement. Hmhmhmhm.

You can just stand there, transfixed, as your eyes track screen through screen, all of your mistakes laid out before you. All of them replaying in your mind; it feels like a punch to the gut, and it twists it uncomfortably as well. All you can really do is clench your jaw and ball up a fist, swinging your arm back down onto the button.

Make it stop. Just make it stop.

It doesn't. The monitors just keep playing, your voice pleading and begging to just let you go to a place that isn't so embarrassing, his comebacks and witty remarks.

Angrily, you kick the dashboard, and then again and again.

Oh, stop that. You'll only hurt yourself. He warns you with a tone that makes it appear he's more concerned about you breaking something, rather than worry about your own wellbeing.

But you don't listen. You keep kicking and kicking and kicking, battering the metal shell until it finally shows even a hint of a dent. And you keep going, until you can't feel your feet anymore and like you're about to collapse. But then you use your hands.

Tearing at the seams of the casing, you pry your fingers in and tear off the sheet metal disguising the wires and circuitry beneath.

It's tense and eerily quiet, before he begins to speak again.

Put that back now. He tells you. Before you get hurt.

But you don't listen. You're angry, frustrated, tired. You want to go home. Where nothing changes on a whim and nothing mocks you or leaves you embarrassed or—

You don't know what you're doing. For the first time there is venom dipped into his voice. Warning you that if you don't get your act together now, there will be consequences.

You look up at the ceiling, before steeling your gaze and digging your hand into the exposed wires. He tells as if it hurts him, then is silent for a second, and then he's thundering. Desperate to get you to stop now.

You can feel the electric hum of his circuits in your palms, sparks sputtering from the board, his voice straining, beginning to sound pleading (just slightly.) Stop that. He commands you; again you deafly continue, digging your hands further in. It gets warm, there's something almost like the beating of a human heart. It's only wire and memory boards and chips. Y–You STOP THAT!

In an instant he goes from begging to angry all over again, cold steel snaking around your arms, ripping your hands from his innards all exposed by your doing. You shriek and struggle, try to tear yourself away, but he drags you. You can feel the overwhelming press of his gaze on you, somewhere in the abyssal dark above you, where it seems there is no ceiling.

"You son of a bitch, you let me go!" You howl, gritting your teeth as you finally manage to painfully rip yourself from his hold. Your right arm stings, and it hurts even to move, and the walls begin to close around you. The room gets tighter.

He's closing you in. The doors are disappearing.

There's no way out for you.

I told you not to mess with that. You don't listen. He hisses, off in the distance you can hear something slithering. You didn't listen, and look at what happened. This place is falling apart now. The sound gets closer. It's not slithering; it's something being dragged, accompanied by the clicking of many, many feet. Clawed, at that.

You just sealed your fate in being trapped here. He laughs, just once. Don't you know? You just ruined your chances of escaping! His voice devolves into manic laughter, a beast composed of wires and metal parts emerging from the dark.

It is an ugly hulking thing, long in body and equipped with many limbs, all armed with sharp pieces of shrapnel, jagged and gleaming in the very faint light. It has no face to speak of, but it still groans with each movement, lurching towards you.

I was going to give you an exit from my little Creature, but, oh well. He begins again after his laughing fit dies away, the beast snarling and sending screws and other debris at you like spittle. Good luck getting away now.

It lunges at you, crawling right over the control panel and nearly crushing it under its weight, pieces of wall chipping away. Holes for him to watch you, bright outlines of eyes tracking your movements. Unblinking, judgemental.

But the wall keeps flaking, and it begins to shift slightly. You paw frantically at the cracks and the holes, trying to tear yourself an opening. It just has to take you somewhere — you don't care where so long as it saves your hide from being ground to shreds.

It's so horribly loud. Your fingers hurt, you think you're screaming. But out of fear or pain, you don't know. Your heart is racing nearly out of your chest, you can taste blood in the back of your throat.

The wall gives way almost like a thin wallpaper, and you tumble through the darkness of nothing before crashing on your side onto a thinly carpeted floor. You scream again, this time you know in pain, and curl up into a tight ball. It's too much, you feel like you're about to faint from it all. But god, that thing, is it —

You're a clever, cheeky little thing. He speaks, almost calmly. It's unnerving, after he was just so upset. You don't even know what you've done, do you?

You don't respond. You can't.

This place is falling apart now, because of that stunt.

Still, you say nothing. Hot tears, that make you feel weak and pathetic in the faceless entity that he is, roll down your cheeks, darken the carpet beneath you.

Oh, get up, why don't you.

You're lifted, actually. Wires descending from the ceiling, in cracks in the floor, pulling you to your feet, despite your protests and pleas to be left alone. He never listens to these.

Well? What's your grand plan now? A wire squeezes your arm to get at least a sound out of you, before you grip it and tear it away. He doesn't respond to this, and just continues.

You don't exactly have much time to get out of here before you're locked in here forever.

Weren't you already?

You just turn on your heel and walk, down the hall, grey and drab and lifeless. No doors, no windows. Just hall as far as the eye can see.

Your arm throbs in pain, so much that you block out his voice. All you can really tell about what's going on around you is that...that...—

You don't even know. Shaking your head doesn't clear your mind, it just makes you dizzy and tired. Fuck, you wish you could do something.

Excuse you. He crossly states, as there's a light thunking approaching from behind. You have nowhere to go.

"Just shut up, why don't you." You snap back through grit teeth, clenching your one good hand into a fist. "I have...had it with you — I can't even —" Your voice trails off into a growl, all that you give him is a venomous glare.

He's decided to chase after you physically, in the form of a small box. Little thunk, thunk, thunks follow him for each little hop he makes.

"What are you so small for now?" Your lip curls up slightly, as you speedwalk ahead, push through paper-thin walls. It feels like ripping through the fabric of space itself. It almost makes you feel...powerful. But you know you aren't. You just got the upper hand this time.

Your hands dive through into cold air on the other side, bitter and biting. Quickly you retract them, rubbing your fingers with your thumb, and peer out. You're looking down at a skyline, miles above the buildings. One misstep and you'd be plummeting.

"Leave me alone." Again you hiss and snap, kicking away the box that he resides in for now. "Just leave me alone!" You storm off before he can speak, leaving him floundering over himself and trying to continue to follow you.

You won't be able to get out.

You're stuck here. This place is falling apart faster than you can escape.

You'll die here, alone.

With me.

[byanyan]

@lee-sol sent:ㅤwhen they climb through his window, he’s nowhere to be seen, having left for work hours ago. however, there’s something sitting on his pillow, laid out specifically so it’d get their attention. it’s a homemade bouquet, but the flowers are replaced with an assortment of sanrio plushies, with multiples of hello kitty, my melody, and kuromi plushies. the bouquet is decorated with colorful stickers, and the bouquet itself is bright pink, close to the shade they frequently wear. and attached to the bouquet, there’s a neatly handwritten note that reads: i wanted to do something special for you, so i got some of your favorites. i should be home by 6:30pm, if you’re still here by the time i get back, we should go and grab dinner. my treat. - love, sol <3.

ㅤfamiliar as they are with sol's work schedule, it isn't until just before six that they show up at the window to his bedroom, pushing it open to climb inside in what has become their usual routine. thick sole of their boot hits the carpet first, the rest of their body pulled over the sill until their second foot follows and they can push the glass shut again against the cool autumn air. backpack dropped to the ground without any ceremony whatsoever, byan raises their arms over the head in a broad stretch, lifting the bottom of their top higher and exposing more of their stomach as they barely stifle a yawn. ...a nap sounds nice right about now. they should have time for a quick one before sol gets home, right?

gaze drifting toward the bed, arms dropping back to their sides, there's a pause as their attention is caught by a vibrant pink and many familiar faces. although confusion tugs at their brow, a smile begins to form as they step around to the head of the bed to get a closer look at the display which certainly wasn't there yesterday. eyes trace the fuzzy shapes of their three favourite sanrio characters, the pull at their lips only spreading wider as they catch more of the details — from the arrangement to the stickers, right down to the shade of pink used as a base, everything about the strange but cute little bouquet is so clearly geared toward them. did he... put this whole thing together himself?

leaning in closer and catching sight of the note attached, byan grabs it between two fingers and plucks it free, lifting it toward their face. eyes scan the words scrawled across it slowly, carefully taking each one in so they don't get ahead of themself and miss anything. by the time they reach the little heart at the end, their smile has grown into a soft grin full of nothing but fondness, and an uncontrollable hint of warmth has even crept its way across their cheeks. a quiet breath escapes — an affectionate, if somewhat disbelieving laugh — and they turn on their heel to drop down onto the bed, reaching over to pull the full bouquet into their lap.

it's so... sweet. no one has ever done something like this for them just because. hell, no one has ever done something like this for them, period. it's almost hard to believe that someone would not only put the money in to purchase all of these plushies, but also put in all the time and effort of putting it together, from creating the base to arranging each plush... all just for them. thinking about it brings back that odd, giddy, fluttery feeling inside their chest which only sol has ever managed to cause.

ㅤ—god, he's so fucking cute.

suddenly, it's feeling a lot harder to wait the half hour for him to get home. they want to see him now, want to cover his stupid adorable face in kisses, to go to dinner with him and hold him real close for the rest of the night. patience never has been one of their strong suits, but for him... they can wait. impatiently, to be sure, but they can do it. rather than that nap they were originally thinking of, however, maybe they'll freshen up a little instead — spend a bit of time getting ready so they can look extra good for their date.

giving one of the kuromi plushies a little poke on the nose, byan sets their gift back down against sol's pillow. the note, on the other hand, they skim over one more time with warm eyes before tucking it neatly into their pants pocket and moving toward their backpack in order to dig out their makeup bag and a bottle of perfume. if he's not going to be able to pull them off of himself tonight, and he certainly won't be if they have any say in the matter, they might as well at least smell good for him, right?