#i have literally no time for Anything bc i've been so swamped with work I CANR EVEN READ!!!!!!!!!!! CAN U BELIEVE!!!!!!

[mayclair]

my school not even giving us the time to be burnt out is so funny like no joke i've literally got exams every three weeks give or take + summatives + notebook submissions + actually studying WITH NO LETUP WHATSOEVER we dont even have term break

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[quirkle2]

I've gone through your zombie au, but I don't think we've seen Mob's headspace before? I'm reaaaally interested to know what goes on his head during the time he's a zombie (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

i think it's a bit like wading through a swamp. every step u try to take in the water is slowed and sluggish, and every thought that mob has as a zombie is the same. every emotion takes twice as long to process and act upon, and every outside stimulus is met with a very delayed reaction

i do think he's constantly trying to piece together answers though, on why things are the way they are. he's constantly trying to grapple onto old memories that are foggy and distorted, and he feels like there's something or somebody missing from their current gang, but as he soon as he remembers reigen and teru's faces (or even their parents) and feels even a little bit of grief, his brain does a soft reboot and he has to start over. juuust on the edge of noticing something is off, that something is missing, but never quite having the brain power to hold onto the answers

he knows he's with ritsu, and he knows this new girl with them is a friend and is likely to be trusted, since she brought ritsu back safe and sound and healthier than he was before. he also knows that something is seemingly Wrong, Very Wrong, with how ritsu is acting almost constantly. when his brother looks at him, there is Grief there, but mob has trouble pinpointing whether its grief or smth else, and he hasn't a clue why it's there to begin with. he thinks maybe something happened a while ago, to make ritsu upset—mob can never put his finger on it, but he knows ritsu is Sad, in the purest and most basic form, so sometimes he'll certainly try to cheer him up like he always has in the past. when he tries, he's not sure why it seems to make it worse

even though this sounds frustrating, i don't think zombie mob even has the wherewithal to Be frustrated at this—it's not like he's rly aware that he's A Zombie, he's just . a being, yaknow? he doesn't differentiate zombies from humans, and he's not rly aware he's sick, or that anything is wrong with him. he's just him. as far as he knows, this is how he's always been. the fact that he can't remember certain things beyond a set point or that his mind is working leagues slower than it used to is simply not known to him

in terms of their Situation, mob is mostly unaware of what they're even doing most of the time. in his eyes, they're simply wandering from destination to destination with no real goal in mind, and since mob doesn't rly have any goals of his own other than Live he's perfectly content with following ritsu around

ritsu is his brother.ritsu is good and kind and he loves him, and despite mob's slowed down brain, he still knows, fundamentally, that he's the older one, that one that is supposed to look after the younger. which is why mob never leaves his side even when ritsu is asleep—u can't just leave ur brother alone like that ! it's also obviously why when ritsu is attacked by literally anybody, mob's instincts kick in and he goes to town on the fucker

no, he does not horrify himself by biting into throats, and no, he is not aware that it's quite a drastic measure he takes. the taste of human flesh does not alarm him—it's simply a New taste, like trying a new food. in his mind this is natural and not something to think twice about. ritsu is surely very scared afterward bc he was attacked, not bc he's currently cleaning human blood from his brother's mouth. obviously.

[keywhole]

radio waves.

okay i toss this to the wolves. i've only seen like 1/4th of the game so if u tag this w spoiler mentions pls add that theres spoilers bc I Will Read Every Tag.

18+ for heavy gore. also. trigger warning for gore.

sanmos deimos/sanford lil hurt/comfort bc deimos has adhd/autism it's true he told me himself also ty @sparrowchute for editing this bc i would never 4.8k words enjoy

——————————————————————————————————

Hearing the alarms on the rooftop had sucked ass, but in the sewers? Oh, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The sound pierced directly through his headphones as if they were made of clay. They weren’t. They were a good sturdy pair of a headset; Deimos just kept them a few sizes down for them to be pressed into his head. For something he found as a joke, his dumbass trademark had become a lifesaver. He never understood the phrase “so quiet you can hear a pin drop,” until he found these. And, well, after Doc fixed them up a little, but even before that they were perfect. He could finally hear and not hear at the same time. Instead of hearing every single creak of metal or wood, pounding enemies a dozen feet from him, with stomping footsteps behind, he just heard the footsteps. Instead of being in car crashes and hearing every sputter of the engine, every shriek that the windows made as they broke, he just heard Sanford asking if everyone was okay, Hank complaining about an illegal left, and his own laughter. It was like he was a radio, and the dial finally found a sweet spot.

But somehow, those tall ass dinner bells had shot right through the shells. The headphones were no match for the blaring sound the towers bellowed, and they didn’t stop. It started out as just an annoying ringing in his ears, fine, nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But they really didn’t stop. Deimos and Sanford were careful, duh, but zeds weren’t. Little tiny pebbles that touched a goddamn pixel within their range weren't careful. Sure, yeah, it was pretty much par for the course for the two of them, but it sucked ass. And then sucked more ass. 

Every ricochet of drops hitting the sewer water echoed in Deimos’ ears. The water simply moved and bounced in his eardrums and never stopped, because that’s how water works. The old metal creaked inches from age and what lived behind the bars, and even with their sneaking and stealthy footsteps, they sounded like slams against the ground. The feeling of it too was louder to himself because it was, y’know, himself, and Deimos wanted to punch through the side of his head and close his eardrums by hand. He had considered if that would be beneficial in the long run, but they didn’t have enough bandages for all that jazz. He was in hell, and he’d have to deal with it for now. Deimos had done better with worse.

It still SUCKED MAJOR ASS though.

Especially when Sanford had simply explained a plan for once they get out of this place, and Deimos just had to find a dick joke in there, and moved his hand slightly too far to the left and set off an alarm. The same constant ringing that ripped through his skull, except it was amplified by the tunnel of steel encasing the two of them. A shit-fart of a cacophony. It got to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was a zed’s skull or his own cracking in half. The latches of the gate audibly flaked rust as they wailed open, letting a disgusting amount of sludge that pounded against the water beneath it, all combined with the swampy zeds treaded forward with footsteps that sounded like they belonged to moist giants. Not only that, but one of them (if not both) had been pushed into another alarm, which doubled the process.

In case it needed reminding in the last five hundred and eighty-seven words, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The fights weren’t exactly a big deal physically. The second wave sort of (literally) swamped them, but it wasn’t anything the two of them couldn’t handle. Sanford was slashing his hook through skulls, using various heads as surprisingly useful hammers. Deimos switched between his gun and his bat, but he was off his game. Sanford was there, and his guard over both of them around zeds made up for it, but at some point Deimos couldn’t take it anymore. He took out his gun, and didn’t let go of the trigger. The noise was worse, the recoil creating a sound that not only shot outside his body, but inside, too. But, hey, if his ears were going to bleed, he had to do some of the damage himself. Go big or go home, and the latter didn’t have much meaning for him. So he flooded his ears until he felt Sanford pull his wrist aside.

Deimos’ head was pounding. Luckily, Sanford took a second to scan their surroundings to inadvertently  give the other a chance to compose his face. He pinched between his eyes, not a single beat in the air dropping. Everything was at a constant state of screeching, despite the outward danger being nill. He was about to consider busting his head open and ripping out whatever part of the brain registered sound when Sanford turned back around. He knew Sanford was scanning him to make sure he was okay, and at least it seemed Deimos could keep it together on the outside, in the dark. Sanford quickly gestured for him to follow, hugging the wall a bit more. Deimos knew that also meant to parrot his movements and follow him carefully.

“Up ahead there seems to be a dip in the wall,” Sanford said whispering, though it hit the other like he was speaking in his normal volume, “We should be able to at least breathe for a second.”

“Gotcha,” Deimos whispered in a desperate amount to not say anything more. He was talking as quietly as he could, an attempt to not even be able to hear it himself, but he still did. It received a nod from the other, so at least he knew he was keeping it together at the moment. They shuffled, and he put up with it, his head on a swivel as natural. His face was constantly twitching in discomfort. 

The ringing didn’t stop. It didn’t even start to ebb off.

Luckily, the little dip had been just a small, closed off alley-sorta thing. The two of them checked it out for any ironic traps, but Deimos called it quits far before Sanford and sat himself down. His ass hit the ground and his hands immediately flew up to press his headphones deeper into his head. It muffled some of the water, but the metal was loud.

Sanford wasn’t looking.

One of his hands was pressing against the edge of their little hiding hole while the other was gripping at the handle of his hook. His head was jotting around as he scanned the surroundings. The exit was in sight, but it was still quite a few tip-toes away. There was little to no telling of what was behind that door. Of what Sanford could remember, he could work out some kind of probability, but it’d be a long shot. And with shots on the mind, he thought back to how Deimos just let it rip with his gun. The coast seemed clear, but Sanford didn’t turn around when he sighed.

“You didn’t have to drop all that lead, y’know?” Sanford couldn’t be too mad, because he had spread the bullets out to save him the trouble of being tackled down, “I have no idea when we’ll be able to stock up again.”

“Hey, Sanford.” Deimos' voice was a bit out of breath, but not enough to be concerning; there was a small laugh in it. He tried for it to not sound too forced, because Sanford would notice immediately, so he kept thinking about that time Sanford blew himself up with a grenade. It had been really funny. No one had time for Deimos’ drama, and he knew that, but he wanted to peel his flesh off until that was the last resort. “Be quiet for a sec, ‘kay?”

Sanford knitted his brows. His sense of sight was more focused than his hearing, but he at least gathered a decent idea that his partner definitely needed a break. He couldn’t lie, he wouldn’t mind one himself, but he knew they didn’t have the time for his sore muscles. He didn’t like zeds. He really, really didn’t. It’s not like Deimos did either, he knew they both wanted to get the fuck out of here, but they can’t take a short rest while they’re in initiative. With his back turned, Sanford had no idea of the actual state his partner was in, but with the super funny joke he had made earlier that set off the alarms had him adverse to the idea of him taking him too seriously right now. It’s not like he was mad— no, the joke had been super funny and worth it— but again, they both wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“Deimos, this really isn’t the time to fuck around, we—”

“Sanford, seriously,” Deimos sounded annoyed, but that same rhythm was practiced in his voice, “Shut up for a second.”

Okay. Okay, that was a bit weird. Surely Deimos wasn’t doing the thing where he hides something tying him down under jokes— oh, Sanford felt like a fucking idiot for even considering the possibility that Deimos wasn’t covering something up. They still seemed safe for the time being, at least. He turned his head around to look at the other, confused and concerned.

Deimos was reaching his limit. Usually, when they found a spot they could sit, they had a quiet moment while Sanford jotted some things down and Deimos did fuckall (mostly sneaking in a cigarette) and took an actual second to themselves. This wasn’t one of those moments. His hands kept pressing and pressing and pressing his headphones closer to his head. He didn’t know if that was helping, or if it was making his circulation fucked up enough to cover up more sound. He didn’t want to be a dick, he really didn’t, but if Sanford didn’t give him a minute of silence Deimos would have to be getting his ears sewn back on when they got back. Or bash his head in with a nail bat until he could pick his own brain out; whichever would be faster, either were inevitable. Sanford was walking over to him. The only eye Deimos had opened twitched over to him for a moment, seeing only concern in his face. Despite trying to keep that feeling away from him, he found comfort in the care. He couldn’t comprehend that right now. His skin was buzzing with the reverb of every sound. Sanford’s shoes scraped against the ground in a sound that made his skin burn and sent bullets straight into his brain. His ears couldn’t stand it. The usual soothing gruff in his voice sounded like static squeaking. Deimos knew he was only trying to help. The part of his mind with sense had instantly regretted not asking for it in the first place, but Sanford didn’t shut up, let alone shut the fuck up, and the care didn’t make sense next to the rattles of metal, or the groans of rusted gates, or the sheet of crashes sewage water created. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? I have some—”

Deimos opted to push his headset against his head until the plastic was digging into him. One of his knees dug into his forehead as he killed his own ears himself. Once again, Deimos had to stumble into an alarm.

“Sanford I need you to shUT THE FUCK UP!”

Oh. Oh, shit, something was wrong. Sanford’s shoulders fell. He didn’t turn around fast enough.

The yell was loud enough for some attention to be drawn. Dammit, if Sanford had just noticed Deimos was struggling earlier he could’ve used that very convenient spot to actually help him. The gates behind him opened with moans of familiar fuckers, and another slab of guilt stacked onto Sanford’s shoulders when he realized he’d have to turn his back again. But he had to take care of this before he could do anything for Deimos, so he tugged the rope on his hook for the handle to be back in his hand. With Deimos’ hands still clutched to the side of his head, he still moved his elbow towards his gun before Sanford put out a hand. Unfortunately, he had to talk.

“Don’t— I got this, just stay here.”

He hopped out of their ratting spot and hooked the closest zed by the legs. He flung it against the wall, hopefully buying himself some time to spread the zeds farther away from Deimos. Being in the middle of it all would be a bit of a risky move alone, but he’d find a way to make it work. Deimos hadn’t looked injured (but, then again, goop thrown up on him from a sewer creature could probably cover up blood) but he looked in pain. Either way, something was wrong, and he hadn’t realized. Sanford was so good at noticing his hints, but Deimos was just as good at faking it.

A fist flew its way through a zed’s stomach, making it fall to the ground with a gross squelch, leaving Sanford nothing but a bloody fist. He lifted his boot to crush its head, his foot soon flushed to the ground as if he stepped on a rotten pumpkin. If pumpkins had a lot more blood, at least. His less bloodied arm swung his hook into the throat of another, throwing the freak into another zed to buy him time. With said time, he ended up getting punched in the face and grabbed by the arm. He fought them off with a decent amount of effort before he loosened the rope on his hook to return the punch he owed, and kicked the other zed in the chest to send it down. That same leg stayed up to kick against the standing zed’s shoulder to give him the leverage to grab the thing by the sides of the head and twist its head off. Its bones let out a crunching sigh of relief, as if they had been begging to be free of the rotting meat they were trapped in. It fell towards him, which he dodged right back to the two zeds that were standing once again as they were still held together like a fucked up shish kabob. Sanford pulled the rope tighter to his hand as he lunged himself forward and stomped on their chests. His arm ripped the blade forward, short enough for a flick of his wrist to hold the hilt in his hand. It slashed against the zed’s faces with a rough, wet tear. Good.

There was a tug at the back of Sanford’s leg that led to an instinctual kick. He spun around to see a zed with no legs reaching towards him, its spine poking out of its body. His free boot sent a quick kick up into its open mouth, easily knocking the top of its head off with a swift movement, leaving nothing but a forgotten bottom jaw. A few more surrounded him, green foam bubbling from its mouth. This wasn’t going to be easy with a single weapon. His eyes jotted down to the dead legless zed, the spine writhing out like a larva trying to escape. Sanford ripped it out of its body, feeling it creak and shatter under his hand like spikes of wood. He slammed it into the side of another zed’s head and pierced it through and through. The head stuck on the barbs of the spine kept the thick sludge of a head stuck to it as Sanford whipped around once again and scratched another zed’s face before shoving it down. He used the other, splintered end of the spine to stab another in the face, the movement causing the stuck zed head to drop to his fear and roll around the other corpses. 

It wasn’t long until most of the heads were bashed in, but there were always, always ones that still got back up. Sanford gripped his hook as he threw it forward, giving its rope some slack. He didn’t have time for this. Something was wrong with Deimos.

“Just stay the fuck down, you chu—”

With precision and instinct Sanford hopped to the right to avoid a litter of bullets heading straight towards a zed’s head. It went down immediately, and Sanford couldn’t help but turn his head. Deimos was laying on his side with a cheek pressed to the ground with his gun matching his line of sight. His cheeks felt wet, and he was really hoping it was just miscellaneous goop and not tears. In Deimos’ mind, firing a few shots was the least he could do. In Sanford’s, it instilled another set of determination. He was hurting, but still at his back to help him. Sanford gave him a stern look, but his smile was sweet; a very “this stupid, stupid man” smile.

Deimos could only fire so many bullets. Partially because it was making him go insane, and he wasted most of his ammunition in a fit of rage. Still, it sped up the process of taking the rest of them down, but even with the extra hand Sanford eventually gave him the signal to stop. Deimos didn’t know why, but he did, because his aim was getting worse with disorientation swarming his head. Sanford must’ve noticed that. Or maybe Deimos’ aim had been fucked up enough to graze his arm— he didn’t know, and as long as Sanford wasn’t screaming in pain, it didn’t seem like he had to care.

The scariest part was making sure Sanford could creep his way back into the pair’s hiding spot without attracting further attention. Deimos really couldn’t care much, as long as Sanford was okay. His feet kicked their way to the back of the wall and had his shoulders fight to climb its way up for him to (lopsidedly) sit up. With his back against the wall, he finally had his hands free to push the padding against his ears closer. The pressure on his head was uncomfortable, but so were the bullets pelting their way into his brain through sound. The protection of the headset began to press into his skin more this time, the pads flat against the sides of his head. He could feel the plastic sewing its way against his skin. Was this the last resort?

Sanford stepped back into the tiny ally while looking in each direction. 

“Safe,” He said, mostly to himself, and turned around to run to Deimos and ended up skidding on one knee to meet his level, “I’m here, I’m here, what’s up?”

An annoyed groan ripped its way through Deimos’ tired, overworked lungs. How is Sanford not getting it? With great dramatic effect with his elbows, he pressed the muffs closer and closer and harsher against his head. He could feel the plastic scrape against his skin.

That’s when it all clicked. Sanford felt as if he failed a test for not realizing it sooner.

It was pretty common for certain sounds to cause Deimos to say his ears were ringing, but they always seemed to pass. Or, at the very least, was bearable enough for him to seemingly ignore it, but this one had been constant. They had been careful, yes, but shit still happened, because they were Sanford and Deimos. When the first alarm was tripped, he thought the majority of Deimos’ aggravation at it was the surprise. But adding on the fact that a few more went off— Hell, Deimos was probably still hearing the first alarm screeching in his ears.

Sanford crouched down in front of Deimos. His face was twitching with discomfort, and his chest was rising in panic. Slow enough for Deimos to stop them, he moved to be next to him. His arms laid around his shoulders at the same speed. Deimos didn’t stop him, but he also didn’t loosen up on the force of his headphones. Sanford tried to lower his voice to a point where he could hardly hear it himself, but he didn’t know how loud that was going to be right next to Deimos.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just try to breathe.”

And then, finally, Sanford shutted the fuck up.

His hands gently laid around Deimos’. He wished he could stop shaking, but the weight of Sanford’s arm was enough to hold him a bit more in place. Sanford’s fingers laced with his and gently tugged them away from the casing of his headset. They gently lifted his hands up, only a little, so that the blood coming from the small cuts on his head would slow at some point. Sanford applied the pressure with his wrists, an amount that kept it from hurting him, by gently guiding his hands off carefully. Deimos let him. The pressure slowly released, and blood suddenly felt normal throughout his body. Sanford’s wrist still kept down the pressure while he let his hands be peeled back. Sanford was still keeping an eye out. He could breathe. Deimos’ hand relaxed against his palms. He finally untensed his own wrists, but the muffling of sound was still there with Sanford’s help. One of his arms was around his shoulders.

Deimos closed his eyes and leaned a bit more against Sanford’s arm. The light blanket of quiet that attempted to cover up the overwhelming noise of everything ever was now in his hands. The warmth, and sticky-icky shit from fighting off icky-sticky zeds, was something Deimos could focus on. Everything was still there, threatening to overwhelm him to the point of crushing his own skull with his headphones, but the small bit of reduction was now thanks to Sanford. Deimos lifted his fingers to lay over Sanford’s as much as he could. What was left of a comfortable volume was easier to focus on with the outside comfort. 

Thankfully, their hands only moved to adjust to the position of Deimos turning his head to look up at Sanford. It hurt his head and his throat when he cleared it, trying to find the right way to talk with the least discomfort while he still had time.

“Sorry,” He sheepishly said in his anxiety riddled smile, “I didn’t mean to, to uh, y’know, yell at you. Not really.” 

Sanford shook his head. He turned his body a bit more to face Deimos, his hands holding the mittens around his ears in a firm but not intense force, but his arms were relaxed.

“I know, I know— it probably hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. I get it now,” Sanford whisper-talked(?) in a way like he was trying to turn a dial on the radio, trying to find the sweet spot, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Is this helping?”

He gave Deimos more time to breathe. His hands shakily reached up and placed themselves on Sanford’s biceps, taking a deep breath in, and a long breath out. It still felt as though if the two of them lifted their hands his ears would start spewing blood, but it didn’t seem like either of them would be letting go anytime soon. Right now, Sanford’s hands were keeping that overwhelming static that threatened to incase his senses at an almost bearable bay. When he looked up, the worry and care in Sanford’s face made him glance away. That part of sense in his brain that wanted to reach out for his help before? Yeah, it's at the forefront of his brain now. And it made his chest warm, and his face hot, and a bit more guilty for accidentally yelling loud enough to make Sanford lose whatever recuperation time he had in this spot. More sensations for him to focus on.

“Yeah,” Deimos admitted when he looked back at Sanford with a hint of a smile, “A little.”

A little while ago, Deimos had been writhing in discomfort, when he could laugh with broken ribs. But the moment Sanford’s hands could take their place beneath his, Deimos was giving him an embarrassed smile. A dopey grew on his face. He pressed his forehead against his. He could hear Deimos’ smile in his laugh.

Sanford pulled back with a huff. Now he knew what the problem was and, luckily, found a temporary fix. “Okay, how’re we gonna keep this right until we can take a look at it and see what we can really do?”

Deimos grinned. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Sanford was already nodding before Deimos even answered, because he already knew he had no fucking clue. Not only because he just knew him, but he knew how Deimos also couldn’t think when everything sounded like pot pans being slammed together. He hummed in thought, before he sat up. Softly, he reversed his hands with Deimos’. He made sure Deimos’ palms weren't pressing down too hard once they were placed on the shells, before he (reluctantly) let go. He reached into one of his side pockets before motioning Deimos to put his head down. With a confused look, he did so.

He heard the sound of fabric against the shell of his headphones. The fabric pulled tighter, similar to the added weight Sanford had applied. He felt Sanford securing something on his forehead.

“Okay, let go, see how that feels.”

Slowly, with genuine fear, Deimos lifted his hands. He blinked. It wasn’t as filtering, but it was similar. It was bearable. He moved to touch his forehead, feeling a knot with little, messy bits of fabric sticking up. “What’d you do?”

“I ripped a bandana a few days ago and kept the scrap, just in case,” Sanford said as quiet as he had been, “It’s not enough to cover up much but, hey, looks like it came in handy. How is it?”

Deimos adjusted it. He moved the fabric to the middle of his muffs, tightening the knot a bit. The creaking of the metal wasn’t as taunting. The water sounded farther away. There was only one test That could really see if it’ll work at all.

“Uuuuuhhhh,” Deimos adjusted to the sound of his own voice before he looked up at Sanford, “Say something.”

Sanford smiled. His hands moved up to hold Deimos’ shoulders. “Hi, Deimos.”

The soothingness of Sanford’s voice was back. Everything else felt like needles trying to use him as a pincushion, but needles were better than bullets. In two little words, Deimos was melting with a silly smile, finally able to straighten his vision and being held by what he saw. “Hey, Sanford. You smell like shit.”

Sanford’s snort was a happy chime in the musky air. “Yeah, because you smell any better. Works?”

“Yep, I’m just a drama queen.”

Sanford huffed. He shook his head, his hands falling down Deimos’ arm to his hands as he started to stand up. His grip wasn’t tight enough to force Deimos to stand; it was his choice to make. He took it. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. “You’re not a drama queen. Next time, just say something, okay? Yeah, we’re in a crunch here, but there’s time for you.”

Deimos bit the inside of his lip. If he hadn’t been crying earlier, he came pretty close to then and there. He gently shoved Sanford’s shoulder, but put a hand on his bicep to keep him from actually moving. “Dammit, dude, don’t get so sentimental.”

Sanford smiled. There was his stupid, stupid man. He couldn’t help but chuckle, which made Deimos snicker under his hand before he took a step back. Unfortunately, he did have to reload his gun, because they did have to move. Sanford still kept a watchful eye out. Once Deimos was standing at the ready, Sanford couldn’t help but smirk. He flicked one of the loose pieces from the knot around his forehead. 

“If you’re a drama queen, is this your crown?” Sanford teased.

With a flushed face he waved away Sanford’s hand, the two of them in hushed laughter. Deimos shook his head, and this time Sanford knew he was fine. The playfulness in his voice was real. “I’m mostly good now, but maybe you should still shut the fuck up.”

Sanford laughed as Deimos started to walk to the opening of their hide-y hole, quickly stepping to his side. “What? Should I carry you, too, your Highness?”

Deimos groaned into a flustered laugh as Sanford grinned, gently nudging his way in front of Deimos to guide him out in the best direction. His arm still brushed against Deimos’. 

He smiled up at his partner.

“C’mon, get a move on,” Deimos said, “I still wanna get out of this place alive."

[lil-cherubb]

hello my dear crochet mutual! i am curious now. what are you crocheting for the holidays??

i myself have a few family/friends' birthdays coming up in november so i have a few crochet/knit projects on the go for that. im in my 1st of 6 weeks of midterm hell, so i've started extra early in hopes of having a surplus of time to finish them all!

for my sibling's birthday i am fucking around and finding out in an attempt at knitting a tank top in colours she likes.

for my friend's birthday, im crocheting her a bag that looks like a boob!! i've been powering through it lately and im very proud of it. also i think it's fucking hilarious :^) (not to like honk my own horn or anything) as a boob enjoyer tho, i figure my friend will love it.

and then i am additionally fucking around and finding out in attempting to knit a scarf for one of the indigenous elders in residence at my university. she also knits and she's just so lovely and kind and so i really wanted to make something for her. plus, from what i've heard it seems to be a local indigenous custom to give something away when you make it for the first time to invite abundance back in to yourself and your family. the two knit projects i have going on are my first knitting projects ever, hence the amount of fucking around and finding out lol! also i am allergic to not throwing myself into hobbies and going big or going home, which is how i've ended up with two knitting projects at once. if i had more needles i would probably do more lmao.

so far i've found i really prefer knitting in the round and using circular needles in general. also knitting hurts my hands less (but differently) than crochet! so that's a win ig lol

excited to hear what you're making 👀 !!

i would say sorry for going off but i am not i love opportunities to talk about fiber arts <333

Hello crochet mutual!!!!

I completely get starting early bc of school lol, that's exactly what I'm doing. Normally you start early anyways (you always underestimate how much time a project will take you, trust me) but with school you REALLY need extra time. I'm only in high school still but its hell for me as well lol.

I do find it quite worrying though that for your first two knitting projects you are really just jumping in the deep end lmao, I can't believe you're trying to knit a tank top first go. I've been knitting since I was 5 and I still don't even feel like I'm skilled enough lol! But that's just me. I'd love to see any pictures of your projects so far if you're comfortable sharing!! A boob bag is hilarious and I bet your friend will love it :)

A scarf however is not that bad, unless you're really trying to go fancy with stitches or with color changes (or both 💀). I'd love to see a picture of this especially, I don't really have a reason lol I just rlly want to see it

Personally, I prefer knitting with regular needles (see: me knitting a blanket on regular needles rather than circular ones...). Its just what I've known for longer so I guess I'm more comfortable like that. Circular needles are great thought don't get me wrong

Knitting and crocheting do hurt your hands very differently! It depends on the techniques you use and the way you hold things but they do. I do old English knitting, which hurts my wrists very badly after a long time of working. I hold my crochet hook like a knife (in my hand/hand wrapped around the handle) which also hurts my wrists but it does hurt my fingers more bc I'm using them more.

Never apologize for going off!! especially when talking to me I'm literally desperate to talk to anyone other than my mom and grandma about fiber arts so talk away friend!

(now for the part you probably actually wanted to hear about lol....)

I'm only going to share the one project I've already made, as I have a lot to say about him.

this little guy!! (Free pattern)

This is an adorable pattern! the bottom was a challenge, she decreases so quickly there were massive holes in the bottom which I did not enjoy. Instead of following the rounds for the bottom I did the following (starting directly after round 26 with no alterations made to that round):

Rnd 27: SC evenly around (48 sts total)

Rnd 28: [SC 6, decrease] 6 times (42 sts total)

Rnd 29: SC evenly around (42 sts total)

Rnd 30: [SC 5, decrease] 6 times (36 sts total)

Rnd 31: [SC 4, decrease] 6 times (30 sts total)

Rnd 32: [SC 3, decrease] 6 times (24 sts total)

Rnd 33: [SC 2, decrease] 6 times (18 sts total)

Rnd 34: [SC 1, decrease] 6 times (12 sts total)

Break yarn and weave in end. Yes there is still a massive hole.

Make a magic ring with 6 SC inside. Increase in every stitch until 12. Then 1sc, increase. Repeat until 18. Then 2sc, inscrease. repeat until 24 sts. End.

I then sewed this into the remaining massive hole in the bottom to finish off.

This was much more complicated than it had to be, and I kinda regret doing it. When I make this pattern again (I know I will lol, I just love it too much) I will just do rnd 26, then SC evenly around, and then make another magic ring and increase that until size matches the leftover hole and sew that on.

Honestly, I love the little guy I made, but I am a bit disappointed? The snout is off center and so is one of his legs. The bobble stitches on the back are not evenly spaced (which nags the hell out of me!!) and the bottom, as I already said, was just Not It. The whole point of decreasing so quickly in the original pattern is so that it'll sit flat. Mine is left with a big bump that just looks a little odd.

And just to be clear, I'm pretty sure all of these things are my fault (bottom is definitely my fault!) other than the uneven spacing of the bobble stitches. Its not the amount of stiches between but the number of rounds. The first bobble stitch round (rnd 16) is worked and then there is a round of SC (rnd 17) between it and the middle bobble stitches. The middle ones and the bottom ones however don't have a round between them (Rnds 18 & 19).

Anyways, here's pictures:

I love him sm but I think I'm gonna frog him and redo it all up to his eyes (and add some stuff, like another round between those damned bobble stitches). Also ignore how he's propped up against a bunch of stuffing 💀

Anyways! That's my own fucking around and finding out adventure! I will make sure to tell you all about the other things I'm making (expect an ask me from soon lol) and how this little guy turns out (if/when I redo him) :D this reply is too long lmao

[nukenai]

The absolute insanity that has been my past 48 hours. I am once again so glad I'm going to a different barn, I at the VERY fucking least need a goddamn break from the insane boarder barn environment. I just can't stand this shit.

This post is long sorry I'm just finally at my wit's end lmfao

My barn friend (S) who is moving to the new place with me told me "oh, "K" said she'd move our horses but she wants to make sure they both load well so message her to set up a time to practice with Rogue"

So I do that and K scolds me like a child for not asking "in person despite having multiple opportunities to do so". I've seen this woman once this month, for like 15 minutes, and have been to the barn three times because of how busy I've been with work and the house. She then asks me to CALL her later bc she ~doesn't like texting~.

So we talk on the phone and she once again says I "didn't ask" (which is literally what I was doing in the fucking text message), and said "you didn't say please, which annoys me". Lady, we're both fucking adults. I'm not a child asking for a candy bar I'm offering to pay you for a service.

She then talks at me for like 15 straight minutes (she's a very talkative person in that scatterbrained way where she steamrolls all conversations and repeats things 45 times, but until this nonsense she's been very nice!!). She told me she's just SO busy because she has a SECOND trip to Europe soon and has to go back to working full time after that (I can't imagine the difficulty of having to work at your job after a second European vacation in one year, truly difficult times). So I tried to placate her by saying I could absolutely find someone else if she didn't want to add stress to her plate. Wouldn't it have been cool if she was just clear about that?

So then she goes on about saying she's for some reason concerned that my horse and my friend's horse will go ballistic in her trailer and destroy it. Because friend's horse is "BIG" (she's a friesian who behaves fine in a trailer) and because Rogue is a mustang. And "mustangs can have chips on their shoulders about things". I've gone on and on about how Rogue is the sweetest and calmest horse in the world, but turns out this lady is a weird horse racist and seems to think mustangs are Genetically Insane and will lose their shit if they do anything. For the record, Rogue is not some recently captured 5 year old stallion. She is 15 years old and has the energy of a slug. What in god's name.

And at the end of all this she's like "set a date and we can figure it out". And like I'm sorry if you're going to have a mental fucking breakdown about putting a horse in your trailer specifically designed for horses, I think I'd rather find someone who doesn't think my 14HH mare in her teens is going to pull the fucking train scene from Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HORSE PEOPLE I AM SO SICK OF THEM I WANT TO BUY MY OWN FARM AT THIS RATE BUT WITH WHAT MONEY. AAAHHH

I need a break from big barns. From having no privacy and having all my posts in horse groups be stalked. I commented on a post and the next day got a text from the barn manager like I SAW YOU COMMENT ON A POST ARE YOU LEAVING US? I'm so sick of being around wacky racist conservatives who think it's fun to start debates with me because I'm a Young Liberal and I must definitely wanna hear the Gotcha they have prepared about why vaccines are killing people. I want to not have to wade through a swamp and down a steep hill to get my horse from her paddock made of mud. I want to be able to actually get ahold of my goddamn barn owner and not feel guilty for asking things like "why hasn't my horse had hay for 3 days? Oh you're in Florida again? Great". I wanna be able to hire someone to haul my horse LESS THAN TEN MINUTES DOWN THE FUCKING ROAD(!!!!!!) without thinking my fat mustang will DESTROY A TRAILER FROM THE INSIDE!!!

This is why I have like 3 irl horse friends I CANT DEAL WITH THIS SHIT 😭😭 IM SO TIRED I JUST WANT A NORMAL BARN

One petty thing I did was make sure not to apologize for "not saying please" because I am not a child and this woman is not my mother. I was like "Hey K, S said you said you could move our girls at the end of the month, but wanted to set up a time to practice loading! I know you're busy so I can work around your schedule just lemme know what works! Thanks!" and that's apparently insurmountably rude. Okay weirdo.

I hate horse people so much aagsjfelbsodndjdjr

[atxxzist]

Hi. I just wanted to drop this here after binge reading Broken. I'm in shambles. Literally.. The more I read on the more I was drawn in. It's really been quite a while since I got to read some good Ateez [series] fics. Often times there aren't many series/long fics... I'm also unfortunately a sorta, picky reader so that makes it harder for me to just read anything. But still I applaud all Authors for putting in the effort and writing regardless!! It's not easy, but do what u love 🤍 As for yours, I'm convinced. Writing was on point as well. I absolutely love it so far. There are also a few things that truly spoke to me with ur writing! But I'll share those another time. Looks like I'm gona be sticking around for a while 🫡. I've completely fallen for the characterization of Yeosang!! Just so u know. I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT. BUT I WENT SEARCHING; AND READ FOR SAN, but ended up falling for Yeosang. Like what's even up with that. I'm just so exited to see what's up next. Again thank you for sharing ur work 🤍 I will be browsing through Tumblr with giddiness and restlessness for the next few hours. Sleep can certainly wait. & classes can certainly be skipped XD. BUT SERIOUSLY, Broken is gona be replaying in my head so much that there's even a chance I fall asleep and dream about it. 😭😭😭😭

crying 😭 first of all, ty 4 taking the time to send in such a long and thoughtful message. i honest 2 god have not been having the greatest time when it comes 2 writing 😭 i was rlly excited 4 the upcoming chapter but its proving to be a lot more difficult than i thought lol, and am just v swamped with life in general that even finding the time to actually sit down and write is hard. but enuff of that, i am glad you gave the story a chance bc y/n's pain has always been one ive been wanting to write 4 a very long time lmao and i hope 2 b able to convey it the way i have in my head.

more under the cut

and yeosang, omg. was honestly kind of worried abt his characterization at first bc he rlly isnt a bad person, but with how he acted initially, it is fair some would write him off as an ahole. im just relieved i was able to get that across, that he is a lot more than what he shows around y/n and what she thinks of him. and next chapter kind of breaks down his character more so i am also excited 4 his backstory. but by the time im answering this, i hope u got 2 sleep and attended your classes lmaoo. again, ty 💕 u made my day.

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Ok so I've been stalking your blog for the past couple of hrs after seeing your TadaAi posts (I'm drowning in the period drama that is this ship) and I find you ship Tododeku and rinharu (god i can't stand bakudeku and makoharu) and seems like we share a lot of our views on fandom and ships probably because we're older (I'm 22). Followed and looking forward to your input in the future!

Also you might've given me the motivation to finish watching Free! XD

Hehe yay, please, we need more ppl in our “house of oldies”, make yourself at home lol. And we share a lot of ships?! Even better <3

I knooow, I can’t believe we’ve got a gay “master who fell in love with his servant” ship in the anime, just what I needed for my idiotic collection lmao

But also these two have too much going on between them, so much wasted potential in my opinion, it’d be so interesting to explore (but sadly no xD), they were still the only interesting thing for me lolz. I love complicated morons, who became the victims of a huge unrequited requited love misunderstanding, bc they’re insecure morons lmao and they just have 2 of my fav ships vibes, so it’s probably mostly this haha. 

Oh, I’m inputting *wink wink*, can’t wait to finish the vid, I’m having too much fun with it. I’ve just literally spent several minutes trying to get whether I’ve put Tadashi’s sexy mole in the right distance from his eye in the “him moaning on the table” manip lolz. What can I say... I picked the best hobby, with all the support I’m getting with my vids, I’m living a dream xD

You know, I think I’ve said it before, but when it comes to bakudeku, I at least understand what ppl hope to see there and why, but like.. it’s just not happenning. Also imagining Bakugou lovingly hugging Midoriya is just so OOC I start laughing all the time. And whatever ppl say, in any ship whether they’re enemies or rivals or anything, if you can’t imagine them being tender with each other, smth is not right in my opinion. Also once again, who needs idiotic bleating Midoriya, idk. I’m just tired of the endless “die, deku/out of my way” yelling, I like watching Bakugou going to parties and amusement parks and doing silly stuff, too. Like I’ve said before, pride won’t ever let him change the way he behaves with Midoriya, even when they’re doing “great”. If he was the one, it wouldn’t have mattered, no matter how tough you are, and it wouldn’t take that long. I also don’t think they’re that kind of relationship, like they move each other for sure, sometimes, yeah (not always in a good way tho), but be together in a relationships? Can’t imagine that. Like not all rivals have the rivals to lovers dynamic, no matter what ppl say. But I get the shipping, bc 1stly these two are playing too huge of a role in each other’s lives, 2ndly Midoriya is obsessed with him and Bakugou obsessed with him too (just in a bad way lmao) and 3rd ppl want that “enemies to lovers” dynamic, since many love it (me included, when it done right and progresses right), so they’re trying to write that “to lovers” bridge, that just doesn’t fit here in my opinion, simply bc Bakugou won’t be soft with Midoriya, like ever in a way, you’d want, and I don’t think it’s possible for them to go there.

Tododeku on the other hand, 1stly they also play too huge of a role in each other’s lives, 2ndly Midoriya is obsessed with him too and Todoroki is lovingly obsessed with him in return, 3rdly they are also rivals to lovers, and I have no problem imagining the second part, it won’t be OOC, 4thly Midoriya when he’s with Todoroki is my fav Midoriya, he’s happy, he is cocooned and he’s badass af (and like when he told Endeavor to fuck off or yelled at Todoroki “the fuck are u doing?” xD are still the best), 5thly Midoriya forgets about Bakugou, when he’s with Todoroki a lot and it’s just funny to me, 6thly they healed each other so nicely, I can’t not be into that, 7thly when they’re together I have like 0 worries, idk I’m like “he will catch him” anyways haha, Bakudeku just don’t give me this vibe. It’s like yeah, they won’t let each other die, but it’s always this chaos of “out of my way”, “I don’t want your help” and “let me punch you before I punch the villain” that I’m just “oh for god’s sake, pls bring in Kirishima and Todoroki so we could just go home, it could’ve been solved in 2 minutes” lmao. Etc, etc.

Tododeku just have too many winning points over bakudeku for me, same with kiribaku over bakudeku, even tho I 100% get bakudeku as a ship ofc. Also idk whether things would be different if Todoroki wouldn’t exist in the equation, but the moment I saw that s2 scene where Bakugou started yelling and Todoroki just ignored him and was like “was Midoriya always this good?”, there was no going back to me XD. Like they both obviously see that Midoriya is wonderful, but only one reacted to that in a way that I wanted. And I’m a sucker for the ships who don’t give a fuck and like “yeah, I find him amazing and everyone should know that”. Todoroki is also one of those guys, who if you give them the much needed love, they’ll return it tenfold with a forever devotion. And all of my fav ships are like that: Yullen, Rinharu, Mikayuu, Wangxian, Akakuro, etc. They’re like “well, I ain’t an idiot to let someone this precious go”, you know lol

On the other hand, when it comes to Kirishima, Bakugou can do all kind of ridiculous thing I wouldn’t imagine he would do to keep him or make him happy, you know. Kirishima is also the only one, who can put his arm around Bakugou without it being cut off, so I don’t make the rules here lol.

So it’s not like I can’t stand bakudeku, more of like can’t imagine this work, to me it’s easier to imagine todobaku in a relationships, but not bakudeku lolz.

But when it comes to makoharu, I just have a huge problem with it and I will never get it. Bc they don’t bring anything good in each other like AT ALL, I don’t even understand what kind of relationships this is from their shipper point of view; they give each other nothing, and one of them is totally in love with someone else and wants a future with him. And that someone also head over heals with him and also wants a future with him. And I hate how 99,9 % of mh fans don’t give a fuck about Haru or Rin whatsoever and just ignore their character’s everything. Bc Makoto. I’m also like if you love him so much, the fuck would you want him to be with Haru anyways, dude doesn’t reciprocate, like at all. I’m at confusion, like name good points of this ship and what good can they do for each other characteristically. There is none, it’s like a damn swamp. Like usually I can give my notp some points, but this is like... they’re both no good for each other... like... why would anyone even want this idk. Don’t tell me “for the childhood friends” one-sided dynamic, like why won’t you also ship Shion with Safu then, like even he seemed more invested in that, than Haru in makoharu lol.

Even if you think of them from the point of view of “the two who are always walking together” ships, that are everywhere nowdays (even tho since Haru moved to Tokyo, he was always with Asahi instead), but even if... those kind of ships are usually at least make each happy and are enough for each other. Haru on the other hand, when he doesn’t have Rin, he is walking with Makoto like a ghost, not even caring if he’s talking next to him AND he’s getting ennoyed by him. Like explain, how someone’s shipping them romantically. It’s been showed like 20 times, that with Rin, but without Makoto, he can be perfectly happy, without Rin tho, he never is.

Also someone explain, what exactly is the point of splitting up two characters, who are happy together, make each other the best versions of themselves and want to be together whole-heartedly? Like I know many start shipping smth, bc the relationships are better in the other pairing, for example, but this is like... definitely not the case here. Like what exactly is missing in rinharu, that makoharu has? Lack of progression and mutual inspiration?

So yes, if you’re into rinharu, totally finish Free! They’re like doing sooo incredible and holy shit they’re inspiring, I mean, look, they’re now the tokyo olympics ambassadors, like how many of yall gay ships reached that? you can’t miss out on them, and also they’re so hilariously romantic, they literally made a wish to swim with each other since they were 13 and did everything to get each other there, I’m.. you’re lying, if you didn’t cry watching them as chibies making wishes on a star and watching them now. One of the most wonderful development in my opinion. Like who would’ve thought back in s1, that we’ll get Haru yelling on top of Rin about how he made him want a future with him, def not me lmao and now all the olympics boyfriends fanfiction are true, I mean, idk what to say anymore. I miss them so much, I can’t wait for the movie :D