#i have wanted to weave easy blankets SO BAD

[milkweedman]

😳

was looking at craigslist looms (never a good idea) and found a harrisville designs 36″ 4 harness floor loom for. $250. which is about 1/10th of the price of a new one

its only a 3 hour drive away.....

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 8

WC:1175 Masterpost

Wherever they stopped was completely dark and definitely outside. As a cool breeze blew past, Danny was very glad he listened and had brought a jacket.

“You know,” Danny said as he climbed off Flash’s back. “It’s a good thing that you’re a hero, because this has mild serial killer vibes.”

“What?! No no,” Flash stammered before he dashed around the area.

Lights bloomed behind him as he ran, illuminating the space. They were in a field of some sort, standing on the foundation of a long gone building. The prairie grasses caught and sparkled in the light of the various lanterns that Flash had turned on. A cozy looking pile of blankets and a few pillows sat in the center of the foundation. Flash stopped next to it, shifting nervously on his feet.

“I, um. So there’s a meteor shower tonight!” Flash rushed to explain, the words almost garbled with how he was practically vibrating in place. “And I thought we’d come somewhere really dark where we could watch it? Since you like space? And I packed a little picnic for us too and…”

“That sounds really, really nice,” Danny said with a soft smile, talking over Flash’s almost panicked explanation. “I didn’t think I’d get to see the meteor shower this year, so this is really awesome.”

“Yeah? Okay, good,” Flash said, almost slumping as the nervous energy drained out of him. “I hope it’s a good night for them.”

“Even if not, this is… great, really great Flash,” Danny said. He made his way to the blanket, slipping his shoes off before he sat. “It’s been… it’s been a really long time since anyone has done something like this for me. Thank you.”

“Yeah? Wow, I keep saying that. I mean you’re welcome,” Flash said as he took off his peculiar boots and sat down next to Danny. “I’m glad you said yes.”

“You made me curious,” Danny said honestly. He picked up Flash’s boot, studying it as the other unpacked the backpack. “What are these made of to not just disintegrate when you run? I mean, obviously a polymer of some sort, but the friction it has to withstand…”

“Oh, we use a lot of the same stuff that you see in factories where machines produce high friction and some science from the automotive industry and even the aerospace,” Flash explained when he paused to see what Danny was talking about. “The shoes were pretty easy. The suit was the real problem.”

“Weave issues,” Danny said with a little nod. “Makes sense.”

“And chaffing,” Flash said with a grimace. “I have used so much baby powder.”

Danny couldn’t help but laugh at Flash’s expression. “I bet.”

“Yeah. Luckily Un—um, the other Flash had a lot of things worked out before I put on the suit.”

“That’s cool. Chemistry was never my thing, but material engineering can be really inventive.”

“There you are being smart again.”

“Me? Nah, my parents are just inventors. I used to do some work in their lab when I was a kid,” Danny said, setting the shoe down.

“And you didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?” Flash asked, his tone oddly soft.

Danny snorted. “Their type of science? No way. And besides, I never would have gotten into a good program. I, ah… didn’t do too well in high school.”

“No?”

“Nope. There was an accident in my parent’s lab with one of their inventions…” Danny closed his eyes. It was still hard to talk about the accident, especially when he couldn’t really talk about it. “Got electrocuted pretty badly by it. My heart stopped. Anyways, it threw me off pretty badly for a time and then I just never really got my feet under me. And there was this stupid bully and some other shit… sorry, excuses, I know.”

“Hey, no, reasons. People who think every reason is an excuse really don’t want you to explain yourself, they just want you to feel bad,” Flash said and bumped their shoulders together lightly. “Besides, look where you are now! You’re doing so much good and already a team lead. That’s amazing. Who cares about how you did in high school anymore?”

“My sister, for one,” Danny said. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Wow, sorry, I really brought the mood down, huh? Show me what you brought for this picnic. After your pizza choices I’m curious what else you like.”

“Dude, you ate the pizza!” Flash defended, though his grin gave away his amusement.

“I wasn’t insulting your tastes, curious can be a good thing. It got me to agree to tonight, remember?" Danny asked. He was smiling again, despite the serious conversations a few moments ago. It was almost startling how easy it was to smile around Flash.

(Danny wasn’t complaining about that either.)

“Mmhummm, sure,” Flash said, ducking his head to hide his grin.

"Come on, unpack the snacks,” Danny said, nudging their shoulders together.

“Okay, okay, demanding,” Flash said with with a smile. “It’s a picnic, yeah? So have to have watermelon, but even better than normal watermelon, I have pickled watermelon!”

“Pickled watermelon?” Danny asked, taking the presented container curiously.

“Salty, sweet, tangy— the best,” Flash said. “And some little bread bite things to go with them.”

“How specific.”

“Shut it. Oh! Right, wasabi peas, a must have, and cupcakes for dessert!” Flash said, pulling out frankly extravagant looking cupcakes.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Well,” Flash said. Danny could just barely see the blush coating his cheeks. “Maybe I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

Danny froze for a moment. Oh. Oh. This was a date. He felt foolish for not cluing in earlier. Suddenly feeling bashful himself, he glanced at Flash. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, okay, I’m getting that you don’t seem to think it, which is really like, so wrong, but you’re really amazing and nice and I mean, I’m just saying that I’m glad you said yes to tonight and since you said yes I’m going to spoil you, because, um, you deserve it,” Flash said in a blur of words.

It was charming that Flash thought that highly of him. Misguided, maybe, but charming. It bloomed a warmth in Danny’s chest that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Before he lost his nerves, Danny leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Flash’s cheek, right above the corner of his lips. “Thank you.”

Flash blushed red enough to match his mask. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed and leaned against Flash. “Oh, look! A meteor!”

“Where? I see it! Wait, I’ll turn out most of the lights!” Flash said, gone and back before Danny even had a chance to tilt over. There was just enough light left to see the food without losing the overwhelming wonder that was the night sky and streaking meteors. “Make a wish.”

“Naw,” Danny said. He’d never do that again. Besides… “don’t need to. This is already perfect.”

“Yeah,” Flash softly agreed as he twined their fingers together.

-----

AN: The boooooooys. My, I just enjoy writing these two being all soft and cute so much. And hey! Danny clued in! What do we think of Wally's food choices? (Can you tell I've been craving pickled watermelon?)

Stay delightful, my darlings!

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to be notified on the masterpost!

[hell-drabbles]

Leviathan 1

Summary: What sort of expression will Leviathan make, when he finds out that Solomon wishes to stay by you above all else?

(About time I finally got started on him. It's a thought experiment, where Eldritch Reader crafts a body for Solomon to use to interact with the devils.)

How does Leviathan act when around Solomon?

Dazed, air-headed, as though his head was filled with nothing but that pink cotton candy that Solomon once handed you to try. It was interesting to you, watching this devil go from an envious, haughty being to this being that was almost puppy like in nature.

A rather grumpy puppy, always gazing at Solomon for any hint of praise, or to just simply drink in his joy as he continued to talk.

"You can stay."

However, such a face, such a personality was simple. Stupidly simple. Simpler than any of the humans you've ever met.

Leviathan was filled with such longing that he must have Solomon stay, must 'give him permission,' to stay so that they can never be apart. He didn't pick up Solomon's reluctance to talk about anything beyond the general vague platitudes. Leviathan didn't even notice that all of Solomon's stories are of before his meeting with you.

Or, rather, Leviathan did listen, but sorrily thought that because Solomon is so secretive about the years he was missing, and the years he spent as one with you, that they simply didn't mean anything. That clearly, being here in Hell was more important than anything.

Solomon paused then shifted back. He glanced at you, ever an observer of his every waking moment, then smiled somberly.

"I won't." Not can't. Won't.

Human language in all their subtle social rules will forever fascinate you. A simple difference, all to express Solomon's will.

Such things, as you've learned and absorbed, completely miss Leviathan.

Leviathan has this face that keeps perfectly composed. It reminded you of pale marble, untouched by the reaches of time. It made that slight change, that furrowing of his eyebrows, look childish, like Leviathan didn't practice the expression enough.

"It would be easy work, to get rid of your captor, if that's what's keeping you-" Then Leviathan touched Solomon's wrist.

Captor, huh? Are you truly? Captor of knowledge, certainly. You had a phase where you wanted any and all knowledge to begin and end with you, where you made whole villages forget where they are, who they are, and what they are. Simply because their knowledge was interesting to you.

But a captor of humans? Of their physical selves? No, you never did such things. Still haven't.

And Solomon knows this well.

You smiled when Solomon got up from the table, pulling his arm away from Leviathan.

"… Those words, never say them to me again," Solomon gazed down at Leviathan, "I don't wish to hate you."

The finality in his tone had you reaching out your hand. Clearly Solomon has reached the ends of his patience, being away from you, from your essence for too long.

"Wait! Solomon!" Leviathan could very well close the distance and simply take Solomon away, but he won't. You know he won't, not when his heart still beats for everything that is Solomon.

Too bad, his heart beats for you and you only. Now and forever.

Solomon will forever be within your gaze, within your self.

He grasps your hand without hesitation and knelt down on one knee. A silly little ritual that Solomon doesn't need to do, but does nonetheless. How adorable. How human.

"You could never be my captor," Solomon murmured against your wrist, "You are my key of knowledge, the stellar gaze that lays within my heart. I will walk into the fabric of eternity that is you."

"And I will always hold you close to me, until we weave into one." And you had to entertain him. How could you not? His devotion is second to none.

He vanished into dust upon your palm. You are not a void, there is nothing in you to feel missing. But it felt like a warm blanket upon your shoulders, having Solomon within you once again. He holds onto you as much as you hold onto him.

You both won't let go.

"You…" Ah, it seems Leviathan has learned to express true indignation. His face was almost distorted with it.

You shook your head. "Did you expect any different? Leave those false hopes behind, lest Solomon learns to hate you."

[hopepetal]

zera hopepetal may i request a simple hurt/comfort (either or neither or both) drabble of either scarlo pearlo or the ranchies 🙏

Hello liau absolutely. have a low effort ranchies

-

There was something to be said about the peaceful moments in a game of death. 

Never truly peaceful– it was the nature of these games to always have the players on their toes, after all– but far enough away from the constant violence and tensions of the server to at least give the illusion of peace. Tango found that he quite liked these illusions. They were precious, fleeting, and offered what little comfort they could give. It was easy to let himself drift, to let the feeling of peace wrap around him like a blanket.

Without those brief moments where the chaos ebbed and the violence ceased, it was more likely that they’d all die from stress before anything else.

Jimmy was less willing to let himself relax, Tango had noticed. His rancher walked as though he was on eggshells, his small wings quivering. He often spooked at the slightest thing– earlier today Tango had dropped something and scared Jimmy so badly that the avian hid for an hour. And man, was he good at hiding!

It was long after the sun set that Tango found Jimmy sitting outside, and sat down beside him, crossing his legs and flicking his tail into his lap. “Hey, rancher.” 

“...hey, rancher,” Jimmy mumbled despondently, not looking up from where he was picking at the grass. 

Tango frowned. “You good, dude? Something bugging you?” 

Jimmy shrugged. “‘M fine.”

“Mm… you don’t sound fine, bud.” The tip of Tango’s tail flicked back and forth in his lap. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong? Like, I’m not gonna start judging you or anything. I get it.”

Jimmy let out a long sigh. “I just…” He sat up, finally looking over at Tango. “I’m worried, man. It’s so early into the game and already…” He tapped the yellow hearts that had been magically inked into his arm. “I know! I know it was an accident, I don’t– I’m not blaming you, but…” He gazed back down at the grass, wings drooping. “I’m already so bad at these games. I don’t want to fail again.” 

Tango let out a soft noise, leaning forward slightly. “I getcha, man. Every time we’ve played these death games, I’ve died to such stupid things! I don’t even know what I was thinking…” He shook his head. “I’m really sorry you got paired with me,” he said, at the exact same time Jimmy did.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Hey– wait, no! Tango, dude, you’re like– you’re one of the best teammates I’ve had!”

Tango laughed. “Seriously? Dude, what– I got us killed one day into the game! Not even! How am I…?”

The two laughed for a moment before going quiet, taking a moment to just think. The stars shone down on them, familiar constellations a comfort in this strange world. It was a warm night, with a cool breeze weaving its way through the trees. 

“I think we’ll do well,” Tango decided, “we’ve had a bit of a rough start, but I think we can make this work. Just you wait! We’ll turn it around on all of them and win this thing!”

Jimmy giggled, smiling at Tango. “You think so?”  Tango nodded enthusiastically. “You bet! Now c’mon, get inside and let’s get some rest. I’m tired.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

God I love everything about Yves so much he’s so powerful it’s ridiculous.

It’s like being besties with the last boss right off the bat and now you get to play life on easy mode with this cheat code of a man.

I can’t wait for the “The Court™️” arc where Yves wipes the floor with Evangeline and everyone related to her.

Also Yves always seems like such a cool character who has everything under control so those rare moments where he shows extreme emotions like when he cries or gets cuteness aggression hits so much harder. It makes you wonder how he would’ve been if he hadn’t gone through all he did and had to adapt :( Whenever he cries I wanna hug him.

Also unrelated but god I wanna play with his hair so bad. I wanna have cuddling sessions with him and start braiding little chunks of his hair while being wrapped in a blanket with him and a movie playing in front of us. I hope he likes movie nights and Ghibli movies because with me he’ll have a lot of them

An ask that mentioned about touching his hair

similar ask about watching your favorite movies

Yves would love to have those sessions very much. You would think that he knew nothing about Ghibli movies, but he researched so much about it, that you may think he was on the production team itself. Yves just likes to hear you rave about your favorite things, that is why he would be quiet and smile, expressing his interest in listening to your info dumping.

He would sit still as you weave his hair into braids, watching the wonderfully made animation in front of him. Yves has already analyzed it numerous times to know what the main themes of it were, the hidden easter eggs, and different fan interpretations of it. Yves understands why you love it so much, be it due to its beautifully expressed story or because you simply relate to the characters.

Give and take, you play and braid his hair, Yves expected to do the same to you. Of course, he is going to maximize your tingles by massaging your scalp and controlling his strength. He prefers when you're the one in his lap, where his form encases you like a crescent. That way, he could witness all those precious reactions to key parts of the movie, especially the ones he deems new or unseen before.

It's cold, so you snuggle deeper into him, pulling the blanket around you tighter. Yves would press a kiss on your head, ideally, movie nights would happen after you and he are fed, freshly showered, blowdried, and mildly sleepy. He wouldn't have any makeup on, so you don't have to worry about smudging red lipstick on your face.

Because he has a flatscreen television in front of the bed, you can fall asleep anytime you want. Soft, plush pillows will surround you, strategically placed so that you have less of an urge to leave his arms, let alone the bed.

Perhaps you would absentmindedly toy with the brush of his braids while your eyes are trained on the screen, but Yves doesn't mind, because he would similarly soothingly rub your arms or thighs, or twirl a lock of your hair out of habit. He would have numerous pillows propping his back up at the best angle, becoming your personal couch for the night.

Maybe you might yearn for more media regarding a specific Studio Ghibli movie. Perhaps you didn't like the ending, it was too bleak and sad for you. So you cope by consuming fanmade content that aligns with your ideal.

Yves knows this, he monitors all of your internet activities after all. He would pretend that he wholeheartedly agrees with your take and even sketch fanart of your favorite characters. His work would be so well made, so intricate that you would think it was an official lost chunk of the actual movie. He's been an expert in mimicry since he was a mere boy, hence, copying its art style and creating a narrative that doesn't seem too far off from the movies is simply child play to him.

You could fangirl/fanboy over the characters with him. He would gladly join you and add fuel to the fire by feeding you his own headcanons, analyses, and drawings. You might think that he's even more enthusiastic than you are with the way he is obsessively collecting observations about the works of Studio Ghibli. You knew that he would make it big in the fanbase if he published his thoughts and creations surrounding the media, but they're for your eyes and ears only.

It is baffling to you because his art is god-like. Yet, he is content with an audience of one: the love of his life.

Yves will allow you to have movie nights daily. He gets to hold you and you get to relax. It's a win-win. During days when movie nights aren't appropriate (i.g., you fall sick, and have to rest), he would just alter your environment to make you sleepier than usual. No need to tell you no, you're already dozing off with your head on his chest.

It would pain him to undo his braids. It was your hard work. But he has to take care of his hair, so he would gently pull the bands off and proceed with his regular haircare regimen. The same goes for you, he would let your hair breathe as you sleep, and he wouldn't want you to suffer from hair damage or loss either.

But that only means you get to braid his hair again tomorrow night.

[angelmavmurdock]

Lock & Key: Epilogue - B.B.

A/N: Just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who supported this series! Love and appreciate you all so much, you don’t even realise. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t worry...something new is already on its way... !!Leave me some asks about what you’d like to see me write!!

-

It was the day after the mission. The night everyone got home, everyone went home. There was no way any of you had the energy to go out that night. You somehow convinced your Dad to let Bradley stay over with you in the house because you didn't want either of them to be alone, so it was the best option in your mind. You, your dad, and Bradley sat in your living room with some of your dad's favourite records playing in the background – some of which Rooster had recommended – and you sat with some drinks and chatted. You all got along - talking and conversing with each other for hours.

Your heart was full. You were leaning back into your dad and your legs were slung over Bradley. You were the happiest you had been in a long time with those two finally getting along.

But soon, you felt your dad's body relax and Bradley nodded when you asked if he had fallen asleep. So, you carefully stood from the couch, and slung a blanket over him and you and Bradley left to your room. You both crashed as soon as your head's hit the pillow, in all honesty. You were both just so happy to be in each other's arms.

In the morning, you woke to the smell of bacon. You and Bradley walked out of your room to see your dad in workout gear, making breakfast for the two of you before leaving for his morning run. He had a bowl of cereal while you and Bradley scoffed multiple rashers of bacon down.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing. You did, however, have to go to a doctor's appointment about your back. But luckily it wasn't as bad as it was before, you just had to take it easy. You were extremely happy no hospital time was needed.

You and Rooster walked on the beach and grabbed some lunch at a nearby diner in town. And you couldn't not take the opportunity to fuck your boyfriend in his bronco.

When you arrived home, you and Bradley got a text to meet the team at The Hard Deck later on. And you informed your father of the invite.

On the warm summer's evening, you put your favourite pair of jeans on and a plain white t-shirt that fit the cut of your jeans. You didn't bother with makeup, and you let your hair go naturally. Bradley – of course – wore one of his father's old Hawaiian shirts with his white t-shirt and jeans. And he couldn't forget the aviator glasses. You and Bradley rode on his motorcycle with your dad on his own behind you, to the bar. You pulled up and placed your helmets on the seat before walking into the crowded and hot bar.

Bradley led the way, holding on tightly to your hand as you weaved through the crowds. You knew your dad was going to see Penny, so you didn't need to wonder where he went off to.

"Hey, guys!" Phoenix welcomed you and Rooster as you finally got to the team in the usual spot.

"Hey, babe." You smiled as you embraced her, letting go of Bradley's hand to do so.

"How's you?" She asked, sitting back onto a barstool.

Bradley brough a seat for you and him and you thanked him as you sat down.

"I'm great. Feeling a lot better. How are you?" You asked.

"Want a beer, hun?" Brad asked you, placing a hand on your hip.

You looked up at him and nodded, "Thanks."

He pressed a kiss to your temple before sliding his hand and his body from you to the bar.

"I'm also a lot better, thank you. But you guys...I mean, come on."

You blushed. You couldn't help it. Just the thought of the man made your whole body get hot. You and Phoenix both looked to him standing at the bar being so casual and charming to Penny. You groaned as you turned back to her.

"I can't even." You sighed.

She chuckled, "He's so happy with you, it's unreal. I've worked with Rooster quite a few times, but I don't think I have ever seen him so genuinely joyful."

You pouted your lips, "I can't believe we went 10 years with no contact. It's crazy to me, now."

"Well, you've got each other now. And I better be first to know when he proposes."

You scoffed a laugh and smacked her leg, "Phoenix!"

"What! He's infatuated with you and he's not a waiting kind of guy. That man knows what he's got, and I don't think he's going to lose you any time soon."

Your whole body warmed. God, you felt like a kid with a playground crush. Your stomach flipped at the thought of him down on one knee. You opened your mouth to retort against her but a hand came to your shoulder to shut you up.

"My ears are burning."

You rolled your eyes and looked up to your boyfriend as he handed you a cold bottle of your favourite beer.

"Were you intentionally listening?" You asked as he sat down next to you.

He shrugged, "I guess you'll never know."

You shook your head and looked to Phoenix. She smiled and sighed.

"You two make me sick in the nicest way possible."

"Love you, too, Phoenix." Bradley commented.

She pretend-laughed before getting up and heading to the bar.

You turned back to your boyfriend and watched as he took a swig of his drink, slinging an arm around the back of your barstool.

"I'm guessing you want marriage at some point, right?" You asked, resting your closest hand on his mid-thigh.

He nodded, "And the house and the kids. The whole package."

"How many kids?" You asked, raising a brow.

"I want an equal number of genders. So however many it takes to get that."

You scoffed, "Well, I'm telling you right now, mister; no more than three."

He furrowed his brows, "Three? That's hardly any!"

"We are both only children. How is that not enough?"

"Because I want a whole baseball team, baby."

You shook your head, "No way in hell, Bradshaw."

You watched your boyfriends eye level rise and his hand lifted from the back of your chair.

"Aint that right, Mav? You want a whole baseball team of grandkids?"

You shook your head ferociously, realising your dad was now behind you.

"Or even a football team would be great." Your dad commented, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shrugged his hand off and he came around to face you with the stupid grin he always wore when he wound you up.

"Not a chance in the world." You said.

Brad placed his arm around your shoulder and you nipped his inner thigh. He yelped, jumping slightly in his seat.

"Any more talk about sports teams, and I'll nip you someplace else where it won't be possible to have one kid."

He held the hand holding his beer up in a gesture of surrender. You smirked at your win and settled back, rubbing your hand over his thigh soothingly. He played with your hair as you both engaged in other conversations with the team.

After about 30 minutes and two and a half drinks down, your dad shouted over to the group from afar.

"Hey, Rooster?"

You all turned, and Bradley moved his hand from behind your seat to your knee.

"Wanna give this old girl a play?"

Mav trail his hand over the top of the piano and tapped it. A grin grew on your face. Bradley turned to look at you as if he needed permission. You squeezed his thigh and nodded.

"On you go." You encouraged.

You thought it was the most wholesome thing ever that he looked at you with such hopeful eyes. He slid off his seat and pressed a kiss to your cheek before heading over to the piano. Your dad pulled the plug from the jukebox and a collection of annoyed sounds came from the crowd. The energy tonight was insane. There were probably more people in the bar than you had ever seen before – and it was all because of your amazing team and your two favourite men.

Phoenix came to stand by you, and you watched as your boyfriend lifted the lid of the piano and sat his beer on top of the instrument, sitting down on the stool. His fingers began toying with the keys and your heart – and somewhere more north – fluttered.

"If that man plays Great Balls of Fire, I'm gonna need another drink." Phoenix commented before leaving your side for the bar.

You chuckled to yourself and stayed seated, happy with your clear view to Bradley. Your dad stood by the piano, and you watched as they laughed and chatted together. He took his aviators from their folded place on his t-shirt and put them on his nose.

He is definitely about to play Great Balls of Fire. You thought to yourself.

You looked at your dad and then to your boyfriend. You watched how happy they both were and how your dad used to tell you and Bradley about the times where Goose would play in the bar with you and Rooster sitting on the piano. And Carole usually joining in, too. You wondered if your dad had somewhat healed from that memory, because he was enjoying himself so much with Bradley.

He started playing some improv, but you knew just by the notes and the key he was in, what he was about to play.

You had such a clear flashback in your mind of a moment you and Bradley spoke about a lot growing up. It was his mom and dad's catchphrases before Goose played something or did something silly. You smirked at the memory and gained a rush of confidence.

"Hey, Rooster, you big stud!" You called from your seat.

Bradley looked over to you, tipping his sunglasses to look through them at you with a huge grin on his face, his fingers still playing the keys. You felt the whole crowd – including your dad – turn to face you.

"That's me, honey!" He replied.

You sat forward, "Take me to bed or lose me forever!"

"Show me the way home, honey!" He called back.

The crowd watched and erupted in laughter and applause as your interaction with Bradley finished and the four iconic chords began to play.

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!"

You giddily laughed and stood up from your seat, meeting Phoenix on your way to the piano. She replaced the bottle in your hand with a new one and you thanked her. You both had your arms around each other before you parted ways so you could get closer to Rooster.

"I laughed at love 'cause I thought it was funny!" Your boyfriend sang, looking to you as you managed to fight your way to his inner circle.

"But you came along and you moved me, honey!"

You grinned as you danced closer to him, using his signature shimmy to get yourself to him. He laughed at you as he sang because you were getting that kind of tipsy. He opened an arm quickly for you and you swiftly slid onto his lap, resting your butt on his right thigh. He closed you back in with his arm.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he winked at you.

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!" You all sang in unison.

"Kiss me, baby!" He looked to you.

You grabbed the nape of his neck, and he craned his neck slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You held it long enough for you to taste the beer from his lips, but not long enough that it affected the song.

"Ohh, that feels good, baby!" He shivered comically after your kiss and you laughed, shaking your head.

"I want to love you like a lover should,"

He pressed a quick kiss to your arm, tickling your skin with his moustache. You ran your fingers into his hair and smiled at him as he played.

"You're fine!"

"And so kind!" You sang to him.

"Imma tell the world that you're mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!"

You giggled, and laughed, and danced your way through the song. You even attempted to play a few notes, but they were so wrong that you couldn't continue.

As Bradley finished, the whole place erupted in cheers and applause. You looked around the room and it was almost intimidating how big of a crowd had actually formed. Bradley did the same and you both exchanged a look of awe. You grabbed his sunglasses from his face and put them on your own, ignoring how big they were on you.

Bradley swept you up into his arms and you squealed, holding onto his broad shoulders. He had you in bridal hold, swinging you around in circles. Everyone began chanting your names and you felt like you were in a movie.

"Rooster! Locket!"

They kept going. And going. You were laughing and smiling so much your cheeks hurt and the warmth of the beer was spreading through your veins.

Bradley eventually placed you back on the ground, but you still held onto his shoulders for balance. His hands slid around your waist, and you could finally look up at him without the room spinning.

He was smiling so big; his cheeks were flushed, and his hair was messy. You knew how happy he was in that moment, and you felt the exact same.

"You know what?"

"What?" You asked, looking up at him through the aviators.

"I was always going to be the only key to your lock, honey."

Your cheeks flushed, "You are so cheesy, Rooster."

He smirked, and you felt the glasses getting removed from your nose.

"I know. And I don't care." He said, before his lips crashed into yours and the whole bar exploded in whistles and cheers.

-

Taglist:  @mak-32​ @anolddayslover​ @alana4610​ @n3ssm0nique​ @daryldixonstorm @livychan @luckyladycreator2​ @justatiredhuman​ @surely-sherly @marvelsvalhalla @im-your-possession @honey-leclerc @wherearetheavacadosat @welpthathappened​ @edgypickles​ @kylpkfbe @lillizxzz @lilpeekabooze​ @daisyhollyxox​ @piceous21​ @hey-its-kayla-claire​ @shrimping-for-all @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @khaylin27​ @santiiagopopegarcia​ @avengersfan25​ @thescarletknight2014​ @beebslebobs @delaneyburghardt​ @shadowsndaisies​ @inlovewithstiles @marantha @devrill 

[lucy90712]

Hi!! Can you write something for Fabio Q. I was thinking that he goes dirty biking with his friends in Andorra, reader stays at home and he falls, nothing too bad, just a bit sore, and reader just takes care of him, worrying too much, and his friends kinda tease than about it. Thaaanksss

Fabio Quartararo- Training injury

As usual I was awoken at the crack of dawn also known as 6am when Fabio got up to go training but after saying a half asleep goodbye to him I went back to bed as it's Saturday and any sensible person would sleep in. After a few more hours sleep I actually got up ready to start my relaxing weekend because after the week I've had at work I think I deserve some time to do nothing. All I wanted to do was lay down and watch all my favourite shows that I've missed so that's exactly what I did, I gathered a few blankets and made myself comfortable while choosing which show to watch first. It was clear that the house needed cleaning or at least tidying a little but it was very easy to ignore the mess and put it off for later or tomorrow so naturally I did just that and instead enjoyed watching tv. 

Once I had ran out of things to watch I decided it would be best to get up and eat breakfast and then get ready because Fabio should be home soon and I'm sure he'll want to do something as he always has plans for us on a weekend. When I got to the kitchen I realised Fabio had made me breakfast and left it in the fridge for me which put a smile on my face as it meant he was thinking about me this morning before he left. Fabio is truly the best boyfriend I've ever had he's just so caring and will do little things like this all the time, he will get up with me in the morning and make me coffee before work or will do other things to help me get through the week which I really appreciate. 

I enjoyed my breakfast before heading upstairs to shower and get ready for the day because I actually like to shower in the morning or of an evening when I have time as its usually my bit of time each day to unwind and relax. Every time I shower I play music because if I didn't I don't think I'd ever listen to music because I just don't have the time to stop and enjoy music. So as always I put my favourite playlist on and hopped in the shower ready to spend a good 15 minutes in there. My 15 minutes in the shower was cut very short when after a few minutes my phone began to ring, I so desperately wanted to ignore it but when I saw that it was Fabio I knew I had to answer it. 

"Hey" I said trying to keep my phone dry despite me having just got out the shower 

"Hey sorry to interrupt your morning but Fabio fell while training and he's hurt" one of Fabio's friends explained 

"Ok um can you send me your location and I'll come and pick him up in a few minutes" I said in a complete panic 

With that the call ended and any ounce of relaxation was gone and instead it was replaced with worry. Like any normal professional sports person Fabio gets injured but usually its not too bad so the fact that I need to go and pick him up has me really worried that he's broken something but for now I need to get there before I can worry too much. There was no time for me to think about what I was doing so I just put on some clothes and ran down to leave the house not putting on any makeup or even drying my hair because I just wanted to leave as quick as possible. Of course the location I was sent in the middle of nowhere but I managed to weave my way through all the small streets of Andorra and get somewhat near before I had to park my car and run down through some trees to get to where Fabio and his friends were. 

The poor guy was sat on the ground next to his bike which was on its side clearly in quite a bit of pain. I ran over to him and knelt down by his side with his friends so that I could actually talk to him. He explained what happened and that his ankle was what hurt the most which is what I was afraid of because a broken ankle will mean he either can't race for a while or will struggle to race. I'm not a medical expert but after being with Fabio for a while I've come to learn a few things about the common injuries racers get. With this knowledge I took Fabio's boot off and tried to look and see if his ankle was broken but from what I could tell it was just sprained and a bit swollen which was a huge relief as a sprain doesn't involve us spending hours in a hospital. 

When I knew everything was sort of ok Fabio's friends helped him up and then we all made our way back to my car where I moved the passenger seat back to allow Fabio to have more room to have his leg stretched out. I helped Fabio get in the car before thanking his friends for their help because without then we would definitely still be in that field because I'm not strong enough to help Fabio walk all the way back to the car. They also told me that they would bring Fabio's bike at some point along with the van he uses to transport it which I thanked them for again as I'm sure that bike is more important to Fabio than anything else including me.

On the way home Fabio kept gripping onto my hand when we went over a bump in the road which told me that he really was in some pain as usually he doesn't show when he's in pain so for him to feel the need to squeeze my hand tells me everything I need to know. Along the way we stopped at the store and I got some pain medication as well as some other things for Fabio before I drove the rest of the way home. I hadn't thought about how I was going to help him up the steps to our house at any point until they were in front of me and I realised just how many there were for absolutely no reason. First I decided to take the stuff I brought inside and put a chair in front of the door to keep it open before going to collect Fabio from the car. He put his arm around my shoulders and I put mine around his waist so that I could take some of his weight and we slowly walked towards the steps then took it one at a time until we finally made it up and inside to the sofa. 

Fabio put his leg up on the coffee table while I ran off and got all of his recovery things for after he trains to see if any of it would help because I don't know what it all does. I also went and got him something to eat and drink because he's been gone for a good few hours and would have eaten a long time ago and if I can't fix his ankle I might as well do something he would appreciate. Once I gave everything to him I went to go and change and fix my hair but before I could go anywhere he pulled me down on the sofa next to him. 

"Please just stay here I just want to cuddle with you it will make me feel better" he said with puppy dog eyes even though I didn't need convincing 

"I'll stay here don't worry" I said 

"Good and by the way you look beautiful so don't worry about the way you look" he said as if he was reading my mind

"Aww well aren't you extra cute when you're hurt" I joked

"I try my best" he laughed 

As Fabio was hurt I gave him the tv remote and allowed him to pick what he wanted to watch which usually I don't let him do as he will watch the worst tv show to exist if I do but because I felt bad for him I decided to be nice. He seemed surprised but he took his chance while he had it and went to Netflix to put on a new show I hadn't seen before but from the description it actually sounded pretty good. We were sat a bit apart on the sofa as I didn't want to get to close incase I accidentally hurt Fabio more which I really don't want to do. Clearly this wasn't good enough for him as he put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him which I knew meant he wanted to cuddle so I completely closed the gap between us and snuggled into his side while resting my head on his shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Since we got home we just sat and watched the show Fabio has now got me hooked on in between me putting heat and ice on his foot to help with the pain and the swelling which has gone down quite a lot. Even though he seems to be doing better I haven't let him get up on his own because if I'm here to help I don't want him to possibly hurt himself more. When I went to make lunch he tried to get up to help me but I made him sit back down and surprisingly he actually listened to me for once but that was probably because you can see the living room from the kitchen so he couldn't sneak up on me. Fabio hates to not be doing things so he was a nightmare to live with during quarantine and he's even worse when he should be resting because he's sick or injured. Sometimes it's almost impossible to get him to rest but I've learnt that if I want him to actually rest I have to cuddle with him which honestly is a huge bonus because generally we are so busy we don't get to cuddle that much. 

After just laying on the sofa for a good few hours the door bell rang which I knew would be Fabio's friends so got up and answered it while grabbing the keys to the garage as I knew I'd need them. When I opened the door Fabio's friends were all there so I invited them in and took the van keys off them so that I could move it from where it was parked in the middle of the driveway. Usually I refuse to drive the van as I'm not that great at driving and it's so huge I know it will be hard to park but I managed to get it in the garage without too much difficulty which I was proud of. When I got back inside everyone was sat in the living room laughing and joking which made me smile as I love to have people over and to see them enjoying themselves. There wasn't really much room for me to sit down which I didn't mind as I'll happily sit on the floor but Fabio moved over on the sofa which left just enough room for me to squeeze in although I was practically sitting on him. I tried my best not to put any of my weight on him as not to cause anymore pain but it was pretty much impossible especially when he insisted on having me as close as possible. 

After a while I felt like I should be being a better host and offer everyone a drink which I did before squeezing out of my place on the sofa to go to the kitchen. Once in the kitchen I realised that our spare glasses are on the top shelf of a cupboard which I can't reach as usually we only have enough people round to use then when Fabio is here and he can reach. Thinking about it I'm not sure why I ever let him put things on the top shelves as it means I can't reach any of it so if he's away and I want something I have to either find a stool or climb on the counters which is really annoying. Just as I was about to climb on the counter a hand reached up from behind me and grabbed the glasses for me. I was fully expecting it to be one of Fabio's friends but when I turned round Fabio was stood behind me with a smile on his face. 

"What are you doing you should be resting" I said 

"Well I knew you'd need help reaching the glasses so I thought I'd help" he explained 

"Well I understood that but you need to rest your foot I don't want you making it worse plus I can reach just fine" I said 

"First off thats a lie you can't reach at all plus I'm ok I promise" he replied 

There was no convincing him to go and sit back down so I just let him help me with the drinks and getting some biscuits for everyone because once he wants to do something there is no stopping him. I let him do what he wanted and just helped with bringing the drinks to the living room as there was no point arguing especially over something as little as this. Sometimes he drives me crazy but over time I've gotten more used to him so now these sorts of things don't bother me as much as I've learnt to let it go as otherwise I think I'd have gone insane by now. We went back to our original positions on the sofa and got back to talking, well I just sat and listened as Fabio started talking about training and technical things about riding which I don't know enough about to contribute anything useful. 

At some point the conversation shifted more to what they were doing today and how Fabio hurt himself in the first place which sounded painful so I can see how he got hurt. At times I wonder why he does all these things when he could do what he did today and not be as lucky and end up with an injury that sees him out of a few races. Although it doesn't make much sense to me I know all of the riders do it so I guess its just part of what they do and they consider the risk worth it for the benefits it gives them on the motogp bike. I zoned out a little bit while thinking about the training but I zoned back in when I heard my name being mentioned. 

"I'm very lucky that y/n is here because she takes care of me and stops me being stupid" Fabio said 

"I don't know how she copes with you you're a nightmare in the few hours we see you let alone pretty much 24/7" one of his friends said 

"Honestly I'm not sure but she's been great today she's been making me rest and doing things for me so that I don't have to go anywhere" he explained 

"Sounds to me like you're using this injury to your advantage" one friend joked 

"Yeah use the fact that she's worried about you to your advantage when she finds out your not that hurt it will all change" another joked 

I was about to laugh at what they were saying as I knew they were just joking around but Fabio's facial expression changed and he held onto my waist tighter which made me stop. His reaction made me think that I had read the situation wrong and that his friends weren't joking like I had originally thought. I wondered why his friends would say such things without it being a joke because I have met them a good few times and I thought we got on well but I guess there is always the chance that they were just being polite. 

"Hey don't say those things she has every right to be worried and I wouldn't dare take advantage of her plus she's smart enough to know if I'm actually hurt or not" Fabio ranted 

"Don't worry dude we were just joking we know you wouldn't do that" one said 

"And we love y/n so we definitely didn't mean that in a mean way" another added 

Fabio let go of his grip on me a little bit and I chuckled slightly because it was clear that he was just being protective over me which I think is really sweet. I like that Fabio is willing to stand up for me if he isn't happy with what someone has said because I'm not the type to create a scene to stand up for myself so I appreciate him doing it sometimes. Sometimes it can be a bit much but most of the time I appreciate his protectiveness. 

After a little while his friends left and the house went back to being quiet like it was before which was when Fabio moved to lay down on the sofa and pulled me on top of him to a position where he was happy. He played with my hair and I traced shapes on his side all while we were complete silence which to some may seem weird but for us its quite normal and its actually super relaxing. We laid there for ages before my stomach started to makes noises which was when I ordered dinner because I knew Fabio would appreciate it and I didn't want to cook plus its a weekend and if you can't have takeout on a weekend when can you. We enjoyed our takeout together before deciding to head to bed where we cuddled just like we were on the sofa the only difference was it was a lot more comfortable as we fit better in the bed than the sofa. For once Fabio fell asleep first so I spent a bit of time admiring his face before going to sleep myself.

[thatbrokenpromise]

humbly requesting a sickfic starter pack, for research purposes of course

(how does everyone react to being sick/others being sick, whatever you can think of <3)

Asking the easy questions, I see LOL. Sounds good why not.

Skyloft: He's very used to being sick at this point, and has 1001 ways to entertain himself (carving, weaving, doing needlework, literally anything) but probably doesn't have anything on hand so he'll be more than a little stir-crazy. He much prefers to be taking care of others, and is extremely patient even if someone's cussing him out.

Minish: Hates being sick. Ball of blankets that hisses at you for disturbing him, even if its with food. He has generally no idea how to handle other people being sick, although he'd probably cuddle if someone needed it and he trusted them enough to touch.

Kokiri: Will deny he's sick right up until he passes out. Absolute misery to take care of, will sneak out as soon as he feels well enough to try and possibly sooner. Hates taking care of others, and has zero patience for it, but would cooperate with providing distraction if asked.

Outset: Will deny he's sick right up until he passes out. This goes great with often being on a boat, yes. Misery to take care of, will sneak out as soon as he feels well enough to try. Finds it much more fun to take care of someone else and likes to be the one fussing instead, and is pretty good at providing distraction in terms of tall tales and chattering and cuddles.

Chief: Will deny he's sick, although not quite to the point of passing out. Sullen and prefers to take care of himself if he can manage it, extremely impatient. Won't sneak out, but WILL sit up for hours reading and taking notes when he shouldn't. Extremely patient taking care of others, although he's a little brusque about it and not super inclined to cuddle anyone unless he thinks they actively need it to stay put.

Ordon: Will deny he's sick, although not quite to the point of passing out. Sulks massively. Sometimes turns into a wolf just because he's so bored and wolf brain makes it suck less. (Ilia is incredibly annoyed every time he does this.) Doting caretaker who's happy to take care of everything someone needs. Has absolutely spent entire days just holding his sick kids and not putting them down because they asked him to.

Four: Will deny he's sick right up until he's passing out. Impossible to keep still, will escape the moment he can try. Would rather suffer alone than let anyone see him weak. (If one is sick, *all of them* are sick, excluding Shadow who can't get sick.) Absolute shit caretaker to anyone ~~including~~ but themselves. Impatient and more likely to tease than help, but good for entertaining someone who needs to stay put if they find him funny.

Prince: Will deny he's sick almost to the point of passing out, then prefers to recover alone. Incredibly prickly about who he allows near him, and bad-tempered about it, although he won't try to escape unless triggered. Can be a very sweet caretaker, but he's particular about who he'll offer it to and is even less likely to cuddle than usual under the circumstances (unless it's someone's he's very close to: Chief, Smith, Kokiri or his Zelda.)

Rabbit: Absolute sullen mess. Won't deny it but will still push himself to ridiculous lengths because he's impatient with recovery. Sulks massively once he admits he's sick. Decent caretaker, but also a bit impatient there and more inclined to teasing care than fluffy care.

Smith: Also a sullen mess. Will bundle herself in blankets and sulk it out,but is grudgingly happy about getting taken care of. Very much wants to cuddle, but tends to be shy about asking for it. Does not really know what to do about taking care of someone else, but would try (and mostly model it off Ravio's example when taking care of her.) Very sweet and attentive, and has a strong tendency towards worry.

Far: Extremely sensitive to when he's getting sick and tries to hide it, but he doesn't deny it. He'll dial himself back and become very quiet and take it easy and try to fend it off, and probably will be extremely uncomfortable with the group because his usual way of coping is "Hide until it passes" and he can't. Does not know how to take comfort well. *Does* know how to *give* it and is extremely doting and attentive and fusses about someone else if they seem remotely accepting.

Hateno: Will deny it until he passes out; also tends towards "Hide in a corner until it passes" and will be an absolute bitch when he can't. Hissy ball of blankets, even over food because he'll be mad he can't cook for himself. Moderately decent at taking care of someone else, will fuss and spend a LOT of time cooking for them and offering blankets; not super keen on cuddling unless he trusts someone. VERY keen on cuddling if he does.

Hope that answers it!!

[sappymix1]

day six!! princess dream and knight george. writing angst for once in my life oh princess dream my poor baby :((( see you tomorrow for the last day!!

Dream wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the war room when her mother made the decision. 

She was supposed to be back in her own chambers, her ladies in waiting helping her remove the mountain of petticoats that pooled around her lower body and undoing the tiny buttons that ran up her back. She was supposed to be sitting still and straight as they undid the pins that kept her curls pinned up and perfect and brought water for her to wash the day off of her face. She was, most certainly, not supposed to be kneeling in the hallway, ear pressed up against the wooden door as she strained to hear what her mother was saying while Hannah, her closest companion in the royal household, stood a few feet away as a reluctant lookout. 

Dream had been tracking the war for months, studying maps and every memo her mother left out in her war room as the lines of their enemies steadily grew closer. She’d read the reports from their neighboring allies of burning homes and mass casualties. She knew what was coming for them. She’d been hoping, desperately, that someone could stop it before it arrived. 

Her mother’s words to the diplomats right now were the last chance. She trusted her mother. She did not know if it would be enough.

Every word that drifted through the door made her stomach twist. She needed them to find a method for peace. She wanted it for the kingdom, obviously. But she needed it for herself.

When she heard the words in her mother’s sweet voice drift through the door, a tiny proclamation that their kingdom was going to war, it felt like it should have been louder. It rang through Dream’s ears like it was. 

“What?” Hannah said when Dream got unsteadily back to her feet, abandoning her previous pointed disinterest. “What are they saying?” 

Dream hurried down the hall towards the front of the palace, the sound of her frantic steps echoing off of the marble floors. She could hear Hannah following her. 

“Dream, you said you’d tell me if I kept watch for you,” she complained as Dream weaved through the halls to find the staff door. Karl was on guard and he wouldn’t say anything if she left that way. “This isn’t fair. What’s your problem?” 

They got to the door, and Dream finally turned around. “Stay here so that you can let me in when I get back.” She reached out to grab Hannah’s hands in hers. “If anyone asks, just say, I don’t know. Bad sent you to wait for a delivery.”

“But where are you going?” Hannah asked, clutching Dream’s hands back. 

Dream stayed for a second longer before pulling away to grab a cape. She pulled it over her intricately patterned green dress, and then she lifted it to cover her hair. “We’re at war.” Her voice sounded hollow and scared when she said it, nothing like her mother’s. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

Passing Karl was easy; he just nodded and let her pass through the outer gates. Once she was through, she took off running, hiking her skirt up to keep it from becoming tangled in her legs.

It wasn’t long before she reached where she was going, a small wooden house with dark windows and two pairs of leather boots placed outside the door. It was a cold November night and running in the winter air made her throat ache. A small stream of smoke drifted from the chimney as she knocked on the door, loud and harsh against the quiet darkness. 

The walls were thin and she could hear someone coming down the creaky stairs. Then the door opened up, revealing a drowsy looking girl with tangled dark hair, blue blanket wrapped around her shoulders with thick knitted socks sticking out from under it. “Dream?” she said, voice still slightly slurred with sleep. “What – huh?”

“We’re at war.” The words tumbled out of Dream’s mouth like marbles from a game spilling from her hand onto her bedroom floor. The normal coziness of the house, fire burning low just within Dream’s view, faded with them. “My mother met with diplomats tonight. She’s making it official tomorrow. George, you have to go.” 

The gentle sleepiness faded from George’s eyes as her face hardened. She stepped outside, bringing a lantern with her, and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. Undoubtedly, she didn’t want to wake the other knights she lived with and have to explain why the fucking princess was standing at their door step. “Dream,” she started, but Dream cut her off. 

“I’ve read the reports, George.” Her voice shook. “I’ve read about the casualties. Do you know how many people died in the last battle? Two hundred. We have to step in because our allies are losing. I am not going to be responsible for you going into battle and getting yourself killed.”

“Dream!” George said again, voice raised slightly. She stepped forward, closer to Dream, and her voice lowered again. “You know I can’t.” 

“Yes you can,” Dream said, and her voice broke under the guilt. She should be able to do something about this. She should have talked to her mother, begged her to try harder to work out a deal. She was the future fucking queen; she should have been able to stop the thing that was going to kill the woman she loved. “It will break me if anything happens to you. I can get you out of here.”

“But I don’t want to leave.” George’s face was pale and pinched in the light of the lantern but her voice was very firm. Dream thought it could have brought her to her knees. “I signed up for this. You know that.” 

She was wearing a blanket and socks big enough that they pooled around her thighs and her hair was unbrushed but her shoulders were steady enough to wear her normal iron armor. Dream hated it. George was happy and loud and silly; she had been ever since Dream had met her in a new crop of knights when both of them were much younger and less jaded than they were now. She was supposed to stay that way – dumb practice fights where George laughed so hard at Dream’s unfunny jokes that she nearly dropped her sword and late nights curled up in Dream’s giant bed after Sylvee and Hannah snuck her in even though Dream had never seen anyone so gorgeous look so out of place dressed for the royal court. She wasn’t supposed to look like someone who was ever going to see actual fighting. Dream didn’t know if it was more upsetting; the idea of her going to war ill prepared or that it wouldn’t matter that she was.

“I was supposed to be able to stop it,” Dream said miserably. “I said I’d stop it before it could get to you.”

“I know.” George gently took Dream’s face in her hands. “But it’s out of your hands. I didn’t expect you to stop anything.” George’s voice was steady, but her hands were cold and clammy. Dream could tell she was scared. “Come in. You’re freezing. You can spend the night.”

Dream wasn’t thinking about Hannah, waiting back for her. She wasn’t thinking about the other knights who lived with George who could see her. She was just thinking about the unspoken pleading in George’s eyes. This wasn’t supposed to happen to them. She nodded.

Dream had only been to George’s house once or twice, and as George led her up the stairs, she was horribly aware of how unlikely it was that she would be again. She tried not to think of it as George kissed her jaw and undid the tiny buttons on her dress with a painful intimacy that her ladies in waiting doing the same thing never had. George’s fingers were freezing against her bare skin and as soon as Dream was in just her chemise, she pulled her to climb under the layers of blankets tangled up in her bed. 

“I don’t want this to be the last time we lay together,” Dream whispered as George’s legs tangled up with hers. “I don’t want it to end like this.”

George exhaled, soft and like she was trying to brace herself. “I know,” she said, voice stilted. “Me too.”

When Dream wrapped her arms around George, she could feel her shaking. Dream buried her face into her hair, and for the first time in ages, the princess allowed herself to crack.

[bitterbetabunny]

It’s a day where we have nothing going on. We don’t plan to go out so we just stay at yours watching movies and getting high. We’re all taking turns holding each other, occasionally kissing and biting and grinding. I’m getting needy and keep breathing out the word “please” but don’t elaborate when you ask what I’m asking for.

When you think I’m ready, you get up and coax omega and I into the bedroom. You let us get some distance, walking slowly as you follow us, so that by the time you’ve come through the door I’m already trying to wrestle omega down. You stop and smile for a moment, enjoying the view, then clear your throat.

“Boys, don’t you want to know why we’re in here?”

I have omega pinned and they’re struggling, but I turn my head to pay attention to you.

“We’re going to do a bit of rope and then I want to teach you your last pose today.”

A heat explodes in my stomach when I hear that. I immediately think over every other pose I’ve learned and all the fantasies I’d had about the ways you could use me.

I move off of omega and sit up straight. Luckily, omega seems to be interested enough not to rebel more.

“Good boys.”

You tie each of us, I get a harness around my waist that squeezes my thighs nicely. A few strands weave through each other between my legs, but they’re not too tight to my cock.

Omega has their hands tied behind them to their ankles and whines beautifully. You stroke their hair.

“I won’t leave you like that for too long, I just don’t want you distracting my bunny while he’s learning”

You shuffle around some of the pillows and blankets, pull me into the middle of the bed. Your hands roam me, gently pushing and pulling. I follow your lead obediently, just as you’ve taught me. You talk as you pose me.

“Let me know if anything is uncomfortable. I’m hoping for this one to be an easy pose that you can hold for a long time when I ask.”

My face, turned to the side, and my shoulders are pressed into the bed. My knees are underneath me, raising my hips high. You climb onto the bed behind and grab my hips, grinding yourself into me. I moan at the movement. As if you don’t hear, you spend more time grinding, reaching down to pull my legs apart further and further until my cunt is at the perfect height for where your cock would be.

Almost as an afterthought, you pull my arms behind me and bend them so each hand can grab the opposite elbow.

“Beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“I like the position, sir, but it’s already hurting my neck a bit.”

You hum and grab one of the blankets that was off to the side, folding it into a long rectangle, then reaching over to touch my upper arm.

“Lift,” you say.

I lean my face into the bed more so that my shoulders can get into the air. Where they once made contact with the bed, you lay the blanket.

“Okay, back down.”

I relax my neck and my shoulders sink into the blanket, now elevated so they can take more of the pressure with my neck needing to be at a bad angle.

“And now?” you ask.

“Good. Green. Much more comfortable, thank you sir.”

You run one hand along my inner thigh once and then turn to put something on the tv. Omega whines.

“Be patient”

You let us stay like that for a while, each of us occasionally shaking or moaning, but otherwise staying still and docile. After two or three episodes of the show, you get halfway through the next episode and then get up, pulling out a box from underneath the bed. You move behind me, out of view, as you rummage into the box.

I feel the bed shift as you climb back on behind me. You bend over me, your chest pressed against my back.

“This may pinch for a moment.”

You reach around me to the ropes in front of my crotch. You’re tugging a bit and occasionally I stiffen and moan when you pull the rope against my tdick. I feel you slip something into the ropes. It doesn’t take you long before you have it nestled against my tdick, the ropes holding it fairly tight against me.

“Just breathe.”

Before I can ask what you mean, I hear a button be pressed and the object begins to rapidly vibrate, ripping a noise from my throat. I fight to stay quiet, but you’re still pressed against my back and saying the sweetest things in my ear. I feel omega moving and they rest part of themself in front of me, maybe their thigh, and I bite and suck on it gladly, looking for any outlet for relief. You keep telling me to breathe, but I’m shaking more and more and breathing fast and getting so close that I bit down hard on omega and-

You turn it off. Again, an involuntary noise escapes me, but this time I am pleading for the sensation to come back. You chuckle and hold my hips till I stop moving them. After one last kiss on the neck, you climb off the bed and I see you start unwinding another rope.

“Don’t worry bunny, I’m gonna turn it back on, I think I just need to tie you down so that you don’t forget to memorize this pose for me.”

And you do just that, tying my arms behind me, tying my legs so I can’t spread them wider, maybe even tying on a chest harness to connect to the leg tie so I can’t straighten up at all.

Satisfied, you turn the vibrator back on. I try to prepare myself but I gasp and groan at the sensation, thanking you over and over as if my life depends on it.

I am occasionally caressed or admired for a moment, but you turn your attention to omega, slowly untying them and correcting their bad behavior as they act out from desperation to be touched. I feel it when they move to lunge on me, but you stop them before they even come close to touching.

“Have you forgotten what I told you yesterday?”

They whimper.

“It doesn’t matter if bunny is here, when I say I’m going to punish you, you’re going to get punished. Go get your chair and wait for me in the living room.”

They whine more and there’s some biting, but eventually they get up and grab their stool and leave.

You linger a bit longer, petting my hair.

“Okay, toy, puppy and I are going to go spend some time in the living room. Can you shout red for me if something starts to hurt?”

“Yes,” I gasp out, obviously having to put effort into staying coherent.

“Good boy. And what’s your color right now?”

“Green.”

“Good. Good.”

I watch you leave the room and shut the door, leaving me in near black. I can hear the muffled sounds from the living room, evidence that you two are having fun, and feel myself get wetter as I wonder what specifically you’re doing to make those noises.

The vibrations are unbearable. When I stay still, the vibrator is pressed so tight that legs start to violently shake within seconds. I instinctively move my hips to distribute the sensation more, to let the arousal build slower, but revert to holding still every time I remember that I’m meant to be learning how to hold the pose. Without anyone around to hear, I talk aloud, begging, asking my sir for permission to cum, repeating mantras about being a good breeding bunny boy, all the things I’d say if I was masturbaiting at home. A particularly loud noise comes from the living room and, emboldened knowing that only the two of you would be able to hear, I start getting louder which only turns me on more.

When I have my first orgasm, I can’t help but move. I groan and my voice goes hoarse as I beg and that all encompassing heat runs through me. Where I would usually let out a deep breath, I start to hyperventilate, trying to find a position that gives me some relief from the vibrator but I can’t really find one. The door opens. Even though my eyes are closed, I can see the light and I know you’re there. Instantly, I’m able to take a breath and then another. Deep breaths, occasionally sandwiching a soft moan.

I don’t hear you walk over but suddenly your hand is on my neck, gently caressing.

“Color?” you ask.

I hum, take a few more breaths, and then shift myself a bit, making sure I’m back in the correct pose.

“Green.”

“Thank you for answering, I’m going to go back out and keep playing. I want you to keep track of how many times you cum for me.”

“Should I want that number to be low or high?” I ask, either wanting to know the best way to please you or trying to regain some dominance by knowing the rules of the game you’re setting up.

“I’m not telling.”

And you’re gone again. And I’m left with nothing to distract me from the vibrations. You leave me like that, coming in every once in awhile to check in on me and then tease me. You pull on the ropes, kiss my neck, grope my chest, run one hand between my legs to around my cunt just to see how wet I am. Each time you tell me I’m doing such a good job and remind me to keep count.

I’m still high and having trouble keeping track of time, so I have no clue how long it’s been when you and omega finally come back in together. Omega looks blissful, nuzzling into you and making soft noises. My cunt clenches at the sight. You reach under me and turn off the vibrator and slip it out of the ropes. I sigh.

“You both have been so good today. Bunny, how many times did you cum?”

“Six, sir.”

“Oh goodness, all from having that vibrator on your cock? Oh, you must be so sensitive bunny.”

You have omega climb and sit behind me and you rub my back for a bit.

“Are you ready for your punishment?”

I groan. “Sir,” I plead, “you just said I was good.”

“Oh, you’ve been so sweet for me, I love hearing you beg for me and asking for permission, you were communicating so well and I could hear you from all the way out there, but I don’t remember ever actually giving you permission to cum.”

I just groan again and you laugh.

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll like it.”

Another box is retrieved from under the bed and I can tell you’re putting more ropes on omega. I’m not touched for awhile and then you rest your hand on one of my thighs.

“Sweet thing, can I ask how much you care about these boxers?”

I make a face. “I don’t.”

“Okay, good.”

Your fingers reach through the rope and pinch the fabric over my cunt, the brief contact making me gasp before you pull the fabric away from my skin. I hear scissors being opened and hear the fabric give way, one blade slipping into the hole you’ve created and ghosting against my skin as you carefully cut away a bigger hole. My cunt feels colder than it did before.

“I promise I’ll buy you a new pair to make up for these,” you say, making me chuckle.

Your hands are on me again, caressing my ass and around my cunt. The closest you get to really touching me is when you grab at me to see how it looks when you spread my cunt wide. I resist the urge to lean into your touch.

One of your hands leaves me and I can feel omega shifting behind me again. It feels like I’ve only just calmed down again (as calm as I could get in this situation) when I feel something hard pressing against me.

“You ready to be stuffed, pretty bunny?”

“Yes, sir,” I say quickly.

I catch myself shaking in anticipation and force myself to breathe and calm down. You notice and praise me lightly. As if that was the cue, omegas strap on against my cunt begins to push in.

There’s a familiar pressure then release and then my cunt feels full. I whisper yellow a few times, just to slow down so I don’t get too excited. Both of you are giving me so much attention, telling me I’m doing so well and thanking me for using my safeword to help set the pace. My hips are noticeably moving and even when I realize I should be holding still I allow myself to keep up the movement. I know you would’ve noticed by now and assume you’ve decided to let me do it.

Ultimately, the cock goes in easily. It isn’t long before i feel the base and omegas hips against me. There are a few moments after it’s bottomed out that we’re able to grind against each other, I feel hands on my hips, the cock gently being pulled and pushed in me. I hear you laugh again and then your hands slow our moments.

“Alright boys, I’m not quite done.”

More rope (so much rope in this scene!) is pulled out and I feel you running it through the waist harness I have. At one particular pull of the rope, omega is pressed into me further and I give a sharp intake of breath. We hold still as you wind the rope around us, securing omega firmly against me. When you’re done you step back and just look at us. Omega takes the opportunity to lean down and grab at me, bite at me.

“I’m going to keep you two tied like this for 5 minutes for every time you came without permission. So I’ll set a timer for 30 minutes.”

You fiddle with your phone for a moment and then sit done and put a new show on the tv. I whine but refuse to answer when you ask if I need something

Omega is constantly moving, trying to rut into me, leaving marks on my arms and back. I can hardly get any friction from how tight you’ve tied us, but I push back into omega each time they try to push into me.

“Bunny, from now on, every time I catch you moving yourself I’m adding a minute to the timer.”

“Then tell puppy to stop moving,” I whine.

“Sweetheart, I thought you wanted me to breed you one day.”

A spark shoots through me at hearing those words and my breathing picks up, hands clenching and unclenching.

“I only breed good boys who can hold still. You think I’m going to be gentle when I’m breeding you? This is good practice.”

I try to listen but my brain is turning to static.

“Sir,” I whimper. “Sir, sir, please, sir-“

“What is it, bunny?”

“Please, sir, may I cum? Please, sir, I can’t- I can’t-“

You shush me and stroke my hair, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Yes, you can cum.” As soon as you’ve said it, you bite my neck and pull my hair hard and I cum. I see stars. I am breathing heavy and barely breathing, squirming and pushing back into omega harder.

I come down slow, My breathing easing. You breathe on my neck, praising me for asking for permission, lightly squeezing the back of my neck. Kander experimentally ruts into me again, making me sigh. Encouraged, they slowly begin picking their pace back up.

“Color?” You ask quietly.

“Green.”

“Good, only 23 more minutes.”

[trashbinbackyard]

30-40 for any armed asshats and space couple you want

My turn to write about Ivana and Carmina. And and thought about which armed asshats this time but i’m kidding myself, Lucien and Viessa take about 70% of my brain RAM right now and i just gotta ride the wave lest i stop creating altogether lol

30. Do they enjoy dancing?

Ivana doesn’t really do dancing, never been good at it. She would enjey a little slow dance that's more like holding each other and leaning from side to side, if and whenever Carmina wants to

They doooo! They’re both experienced in multiple ballroom dances and you know, living for a millenia can get boring at times so why not hit up every fancy party Lucien invites himself into

31. What’s a perfect date for them?

Go to some very quiet restaurant with good food and wine

Get cultured in a museum/art show/theater, then evnture to some secluded spot overlooking a breathtaking scenery, have some food and wine, and just watch the sunset and the stars

32. How do they comfort each other?

Ivana will straight up ask Carmina what she wants her to do, how to best comfort her in the situation, get her some tea, let her know she can take off her hearing aids and just focus on herself, act as a weighted blanket for her. They’re adults and neurodivergent so just telling and asking what the other wants is the best way to communicate. Ivana would like to be comforted by just letting her vent or letting her take some time off of chores so she can relax

Just be a shoulder to cry and vent on, spend some quiet time together, wash the others hair, small things like that 

33. Who is the big spoon and why?

Ivana is the blanket (sometimes). I dont think theyd sleep spooning but when watching a movie or something i feel like Ivana is the big spoon

Lucien, quoth the ancient texts: “dick hard on the butt, titty in my hand, kiss ya neck, hell. yeah”

34. What’s their favorite nonsexual activity together?

Reading (parallel play style), playing with cats, cooking together

Also reading parallel play style, attending theater, going out in the night to hunt some wrongdoers

35. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

Like adults. Text each other on the regular. Carmina can send all the cool bug facts to her, Ivana might even react with an emoji. 

They keep themselves busy, Lucien doing Deanoh’s bidding, hunting down artifacts, lending a hand to some guilds. Viessa seems to have an endless supply of tomes to get through and develop new magic.

36. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

Lips, cheek, jaw for Ivana, if getting a bit risquè its cleavage. 

Lips, jaw, hands on Lucien. Corner of her mouth, earlobes and neck on Viessa

37. Have they ever hurt each other on accident?

Yeah, it happens. Ivana might’ve said something inconsiderate. Carmina might’ve ignored something Ivana had asked and other forms of miscommunication.

During the second age, after Vilya went nuts and exploded the entirety of the weave, Viessa’s magic became quite unstable, so she might’ve exploded Lucien a couple of times. Viessa’s gotten a few cuts when Lucien’s been careless with his weapons. 

38. Have they ever hurt each other deliberately?

Nope, neither of them have any time for this juvenile attitude of “oh they aren't acting like i want them to so i’ll do something bad to make them realize. Like no, that's so dumb.

They’ve said some nasty stuff to each other in the beginning. Lucien wasn’t very sympathetic nor comforting to Viessa when all that undead stuff unraveled. And Viessa used to be very frustrated with him and his antics 

39. Who gets hit on the most?

Carmina, bc she is a bombshell, just a quirky one. And Ivana’s aura is so offputting even her coworkers refuse to talk to her if it isn’t absolutely necessary

Lucien, he makes it super easy for anyone to approach him and is more out there than Viessa is. Not that Viessa doesn’t get hit on

40. Who tries to distract the other when they’re trying to do something else?

They respect the other’s space. It’s more “hey when you got a second come look at this”. And I think Carmina would do that a bit more

Lucien, especially when he’s bored, constantly asking Viessa what she’s doing, laying in increasingly weird position on the couch behind her desk, throwing daggers at a wall, etc general nuisance stuff

[charlizekkelly]

bikes & blood; chapter VI

{poly!lost boys x oc}

word count: 3400 rating: explicit chapter warnings: an unintentional mixture of timelines, and NOSTALGIA (I'm so desensitized that I don't know whats bad and whats not) bikes & blood masterlist

tag list(feel free to leave a comment if you want to be added to the list <3) : @henhouse-horrors

"𝐀 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚, 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬."

--

Marko, Paul and Dwayne's howlers of delight echoed across the shoreline of Santa Carla. Despite the two having left before them, they'd slowed their pace and continued to weave from one side of the beach to the other. Paul's cheeky grin etched across his face as he pulled ahead of Dwayne and disappeared into the tree line. Amara's hair whipped around behind her, tangling itself as Marko followed Dwayne into the tree line ghosting the beach.

A soft, adrenaline-filled smile upturned the corners of Amara's mouth. The moonlight above and the headlights mounted on the front of the bikes—the only sense of guidance as they weaved their way through the trees. Amara's grip on Marko's waist tightened as he swerved to avoid a fallen tree branch, righting himself as smoothly as if he knew it'd been there all along. The air growing colder the deeper they drove into the forest, the smell of salt filling the air and their lungs.

The faintest brush of sea spray across Amara's skin paired with the sound of waves rumbling nearby filled the starless sky; the ash-grey clouds coating the sky in a never-ending blanket of darkness. Dwayne and Paul's lights flickered from sight as they maneuvered their way through the trees with ease; missing rocks, bushes and fallen trees with an air of practised calm. Paul glanced back over his shoulder at Amara before he disappeared over the crest of a small sloping hill, his eyes dancing with delight.

Panic seized Amara's heart as the boy she'd only known for a day vanished. Worry nipping at her gut as the smell of the ocean grew stronger. The crashing of waves louder and thundering as Marko chuckled to himself; the vibrations rippling from his chest and into her own. Amara watched from behind Marko's shoulder as Dwayne disappeared over the crest of the hill, his ebony-brown locks billowing in the wind. Marko sped up with a quick twist of his hand as he cleared the crested hill with a small, easy jump, Paul's amused grin etched into his face as he and Dwayne waited for the pair.

Amara's stomach rolled with unease, the crashing of waves thunderous to her ears as the earth several metres away from Dwayne and Paul disappeared with an abrupt drop. Marko stopped beside them and quickly killed the engine of his bike, his Cheshire-like grin plastered across his face as he watched Amara stare down at the impassable drop. Amara tore her eyes from the edge of the cliff face and frowned as a lone bike sat vacant of its rider. Paul all but pranced to where Amara sat behind Marko, helping her off of the back of Marko's bike and towards a set of old, beaten-down stairs that clung to the cliff face.

Amara clutched onto Paul's hand as he led her down the rickety stairs. The wooden staircase groaned and creaked beneath her feet, the faintest sway to the steps enticing her heart to pound within her chest. Paul's hand squeezed Amara's gently as he glanced down at her with a sense of surety in his eyes. Dwayne and Marko followed behind them, talking amongst themselves in voices too low for Amara to hear over the crashing of the waves.

Anxiety crept into her veins as Paul let go of her hand and disappeared into a gap in the rock face. Amara's senses kicked into overdrive; one half of her mind screaming at her to run while the other urged her to stay. A frown marred Amara's face as she hesitated, eyes narrowed at the gap in the rock face. Dwayne brushed past her shoulder with mirth in his umber-brown eyes, sparing Amara an encouraging look over his shoulder before he disappeared into the entrance of the rock face.

Marko's patchwork jacket brushed past Amara's shoulder as he walked past her and stopped beside the coarse, creamy rock face. He leant against the rocks, a gentle smile across his face as he waited. "You coming?" He asked, gesturing with his head towards the gap within the rocks.

Amara paused, eyeing the gap within the rocks with unease as she contemplated turning around and walking back through the forest to the boardwalk. Marko waited for her answer, patiently leaning against the rock face as though he had all the time in the world. Amara threw a glance back up the wooden stairs behind her, the crashing of the waves against the cliff face filled her ears as she breathed in a deep breath of air and turned back to face Marko.

"Lead the way." She breathed out with as much courage as she could muster.

Marko's eyebrows rose, doubt seeping into his hazel irises. "You sure? Because I can take you back to the boardwalk if you're uncomfortable."

"You'd take me back to the boardwalk? Just like that?" Amara asked, clicking her fingers together as though to emphasise how he'd take her back to the boardwalk.

"You've only got to say the words, Amara. I'll be more than happy to walk you back up those stairs and take you back to the boardwalk."

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head as a soft smile spread across his boyish features. "Just like that." He paused, lifting his fingers to his mouth as his eyes studied Amara intently. "I promise you that we'll never hurt you, not now or even in the future."

Amara's brows furrowed at his choice of words, dismissing it with a swift shake of her head as though it'd rid her of her thoughts. Amara breathed in a deep breath of air to calm the nerves that'd begun to build. She knew, despite having only known Marko for a short amount of time, that he meant what he said, and that soothed the anxiety that had crept in. Foolish or not, Amara followed him into the gap of the rock face when he turned away from her and slipped through the sizeable gap.

Small stones skittered across the dank, dimly lit tunnel of the rock face as Amara's shoes sent them tumbling across the sandy floor. She squinted her eyes as she cautiously inched closer to the faint light emitting from the end of the tunnel. Voices and laughter echoed off the rough walls of the tunnel, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise as the dank tunnel opened up into a large, spaciously lit cave.

As Amara's fawn-brown eyes wandered the room in awe, she soaked in the Victorian styled ruins before her with wonder filled eyes. An askew chandelier hung from the ceiling. Its ornately designed crystals chipped or broken upon the cave floor. The base of which hung dislodged from the roof by a thick power cable. A broken fountain sat within the middle of the room, its once intricately designed tiers crumbled beneath that of a second chandelier that had fallen from the ceiling—pieces of shattered crystals filling the base of the fountain. Barrels filled with fire illuminated the cave, reddish-orange flames licking at the metal as though eager to escape its confines.

A large painting of a man hung up on the rocky wall, varying trinkets scattered around the cave floor and surrounding crevices. Shell wind-chimes hung from the ceiling nearest to three beaten-down couches placed beneath the fraying portrait. Paul and Dwayne lounging comfortably within the worn couches beside that of an old, ancient-looking wheelchair. David sat perched within the uncomfortable-looking chair, sparing Amara a fleeting glance before continuing on with his conversation with Dwayne. Marko sat off to the side further back in the cave, a messily arranged bookshelf and book stacks scattered around him. An old stereo left beside him on a small jutting out ledge, the sheerest of curtains brushing against the boombox as the faintest breeze blew across the cave.

Amara peered over Marko's shoulder to the unused and seemingly forgotten bed, her eyebrows coming together as Amara wondered why the mattress looked so vacant and unused. Amara sat down beside Marko, who held a small white bird within his hands, running his fingers ever so gently across the sleekness of the pigeon's feathers with care. His hazel eyes tracking the movement of his fingers as though memorising every stroke of his hand down the bird's back.

David's voice rang out across the spacious cave, both Amara and Marko's heads raising from the small bird in unison. "This used to be one of the hottest resorts in Santa Carla about eighty-five years ago." David paused as he scrutinised the cave. "Shame they built it on a fault line. Because, when the big one hit San Francisco in nineteen oh six. This place took a header straight into the crack."

Paul, Dwayne and Marko each wore grins of bemusement as though they'd heard the same explanation time and time again. A sense of déjà vu creeping through the group of bikers as Amara looked around the Victorian styled room with interest. Her gaze coming to rest on that same empty room, left forgotten at the back of the cave to collect dust.

"You live here?" Amara asked.

David nodded his head in response, glacier-blue eyes filled with a sense of cool calm. "We do."

"What about your parents? Wouldn't they be worried that you live here?"

The biker's laughter filled the cave as they all shared a knowing look with the other; Dwayne's lips twitching as though he was fighting the urge to smile. Marko peered down at Amara with a soft smile, chuckling lightly to himself as her eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Our parents couldn't care less, Amara. Then again, they never were too concerned about us in the first place." David explains calmly.

Amara nodded her head slowly as she let that piece of information sink in. "So, it's just you four?"

Paul nodded his head, sky-blue eyes alight with happiness as he rose from his seat and came to stand in front of her. Taking Amara's hand in his own, he led her over to the worn couches beside the fountain.

"Now it is," Paul uttered as they sat down on the soft couches.

Amara frowned. "Now it is?"

"We used to live here with two others but that didn't work out." Marko piped up from his spot in front of the bookshelf.

Amara hummed in acknowledgement, letting Marko's words hang in the air before Paul broke the silence with his muttered explanation. "Because of some guy."

"A guy?"

David glared at Paul, shaking his head in exasperation as he rubbed his face with his gloved hand. Amara watched, mildly amused as the platinum-blonde peered up at the ceiling as though praying for some semblance of patience. Marko's lips upturned into a cheeky grin as he noticed the way Amara bit her lip to suppress her smile, shaking his head as he let the small white pigeon go and crossed the room to sit down beside her.

"And what a mistake that was," David uttered lowly, tearing his icy stare away from the cave ceiling.

Amara's brows came together as Paul muttered something about a dog beneath his breath. Marko's eyes narrowing into a glared as he leaned across the back of the couch and smacked Paul upon the shoulder. A soft chuckle slipped past her lips as Amara watched the two interact—every little thing they did reminding her more and more of siblings fighting amongst themselves. Marko's hazel eyes hardened as Amara caught the ending of Dwayne's muttered response.

The small, curly blonde-haired biker leant down and picked up a small pebble as Amara blinked in mute shock; trying and failing to hide the amusement across her face with their antics. Amara's lips parted in shock as Marko tossed the small greying pebble at Dwayne's chest. A triumphant grin etched across his face as the brunette levelled him with a deathly glare. Paul chuckled as Marko leant back into the couch, resting his arm across the back of the seat while throwing Dwayne a mocking smirk from over the top of Amara's head.

David shook his head as a disappointingly fed up sigh spilled from his mouth. Icy-blue eyes watching the entire interaction as though he'd seen it many times before. David's eyes met Amara's, his eyebrows lifting as a smirk lifted the edges of his mouth.

"Marko, food." He ordered smoothly, blue eyes never straying from Amara's as he held her stare.

Marko huffed, glancing down at Amara quickly before he stood from the couch and disappeared down the dimly lit tunnel. His footsteps echoed throughout the cave, the sound of the waves crashing against the rock face barely decipherable from within the cavernous home. Paul fidgeted for several moments, searching through the pockets of his pants before a sound of triumph bubbled from the excitable blonde. Amara turned her head toward him, fawn-brown eyes alight with regale as his Atlantic-blue eyes met her own.

Paul twirled the pre-rolled joint between his fingers, dirty-blonde eyebrows wiggling as he pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the pasty-white joint. Tipping his head back with a delighted smile across his face as the smoke filled his lungs with one inhale and left them in another cloud of smoke.

"Tell me, Amara. How long have you been in Santa Carla?" David asked from his position in the ancient wheelchair.

"Not long. I've been here for three days now."

"What brings you to Santa Carla, of all places? Not a lot of people have heard of the famous 'Murder Capital of the World'." He drawls, toying with the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear.

Amara's nose scrunched up with displeasure, the disdain she held towards her parent's divorce clear within her expression. "My parents divorced. Mum stayed in Phoenix with my older brother. Dad and I moved to Santa Carla."

Paul nodded his head, inhaling another lungful of smoke as he rested his head upon the back of the couch, his arm slung across the back of the chair while his eyes darted from rock crevice to rock crevice of the ceiling.

Amara's eyes flitted over to Dwayne as he sat up on the couch across from her, elbows coming to rest upon his thighs while his umber-brown eyes locked with her own; interest swirling within his dark irises.

"How old are you, Amara?" Dwayne asked softly, the deep timbre of his voice calming and pleasant to hear.

"Eighteen."

"And, your father lets you wander the boardwalk alone?"

"Why shouldn't he?"

"It's dangerous after dark in Santa Carla."

Amara arched an eyebrow doubtfully as his words sent a sense of déjà vu through her—reminding Amara of what her mother had said before they'd left for Santa Carla. And, just like her father, Amara plastered a carefree smile across her face and spoke. "There's nothing to be afraid of in Santa Carla."

David's disdainful laugh filled the cave, his glacier-blue eyes dancing with amusement as Paul lifted his head from the back of the couch to look down at Amara in surprise.

"Nothing to be afraid of? Oh, sweetheart. There's always something to be afraid of after dark." David drawled as Amara turned her head to face him.

Amara shrugged dismissively. David's expression turning to stone as he bristled from her dismissal. Amara's head turned in the direction of the cave entrance as footsteps echoed to meet her ears, Marko's beaming face emerging from the shadow's seconds later—a large brown box held within his hands as he maneuvered his way through the cave with ease.

"Who's hungry?" Marko questioned in a sing-song type of voice, hazel eyes flickering over towards David briefly as a small frown marred his face.

"Me!" Paul exclaimed. Jolting up from the couch in a rush to get to the food, his shoulder knocking into Amara's as he scrambled off the chair and snatched the box from Marko's hands.

Marko merely shook his head without a single trace of surprise in his eyes, shrugging his shoulders as he followed the taller blonde back to the couch. Paul released a sound from the back of his throat akin to that of a whine, pouting as he pulled a carton of Chinese food from the box.

"Chinese? Again?"

Marko ruffled the pouting blonde's hair, sitting down beside Amara on the couch as he leant over and pulled the cardboard box from Paul's lap into his own. "Quit your whining, Paul. You know it's the only place open after dark." Marko scolded, pulling two cartons of Chinese from the box before tossing a box of Chinese towards Dwayne, who caught it with ease.

Marko passed Amara one of the unopened boxes of food. The mouth-watering smell of Chinese spices and sauces greeting her senses as Amara opened the medium-sized white box. A hushed laugh fell from Amara's lips as her mind drifted to a story her father had told her about a carton of rice he'd once believed had been real live maggots. The harmless, unmoving special fried rice eliciting a soft rumble from Amara's stomach.

Marko and Paul chuckled lightly at the sound. The two blondes digging into their cartons of food like it was their last meal on earth, nudging the other playfully as they ate. Amara shook her head as her eyes lifted to meet David's, his brows furrowed as he watched Amara closely—his icy-blue eyes trying to decipher Amara from across the room.

"What'd you think of Santa Carla so far, Amara?" Paul questioned with a half-finished mouthful of food.

Amara shook her head as she deadpanned the blonde who sat beside her. "It's been a refreshing difference to Phoenix."

"So, you didn't like Phoenix?" Marko asked.

"It was okay, but something about Santa Carla is... inviting. It seems to appeal to everyone that comes down to the boardwalk."

"Like you're supposed to be there, right?" Paul pipes up, lifting another spoonful of rice to his mouth as he waited for Amara to respond.

Amara nodded her head as she chewed her mouthful of rice, swallowing before she spoke again. "Oddly enough, yes. The boardwalk has a type of allure for everyone. Something captures someone's attention and there's always something to feed that curiosity."

"Sounds like a siren's call to me," David uttered from the wheelchair, chopsticks in hand as he lifted a mouthful of noodles to his mouth.

Amara chuffed with amusement, musing over the platinum-blonde's words as she ate another spoonful of rice. "Maybe you're right, but something tells me that Santa Carla is the city for the lost."

"City of the lost. Murder Capital of the World. It's all the same thing, different but still alike." David spoke with surety.

"I think people come to Santa Carla in search of a place to belong. Either they find what they're looking for within the boardwalk or they become one of the many missing persons of Santa Carla." Amara paused as she mulled over her own words. "And maybe that's why it's the Murder Capital of the World."

David lifted his eyebrows, fascination seeping into his chilling irises. "What do you mean?"

Amara sighed, raking her hand through her hair as she tried to find another way to describe the way she thought Santa Carla worked and what made it the feared 'Murder Capital of the World'. "You come to Santa Carla in hopes of something new. Something better, right?"

David nodded his head, interest well and truly peaked as he leant forward in the ancient wheelchair. "Right."

"And, you either find what you were looking for or a piece of you dies when you realise that nothing within this world can bring you happiness, surety or a sense of calm."

David hummed, glacier-blue eyes filling with a look that Amara couldn't decipher as a satisfied smile spread across his face. The intimidating aura that surrounded him easing slightly as he seemed to see Amara in a new light.

"A piece of you dies when you enter Santa Carla, Amara. It's just if they can save you in time that counts."

-

<previous chapter next chapter>

[merianmoriarty]

Neurodivergent Knitting:  Casting On

Let’s face it, casting on is one of the hardest parts of knitting to learn, and sometimes one of the hardest to implement.  Here are four of the most common methods and their pros/cons for the disabled and/or neurodivergent knitter.

Simple Cast On (single twist)

The easiest to execute, but one of the hardest to work stitches out of, especially if you have hand disabilities.  It is a very stable casting technique, good for items you don’t want stretchy edges on or for items you want to puff in the middle.  It uses no extra yarn, so you don’t need more than a couple of inches of tail (that way you actually have something you can weave to hide it later).  Where it gets tough is that it has no gauge regulation of its own--the tightness of each stitch is 100% controlled by the knitter, so the tiniest moment of carelessness can pull a stitch too tight to get a second needle into it to work it.  All you have to do to execute the simple cast on is to place a slipknot on your right needle, take your live yarn (the end connected to the skein/ball), give it a single clockwise twist so that it makes a closed loop, slide the loop onto the needle, and pull fairly tight--the tightness here has a big influence on the gauge of the bottom border, and if you make it too loose you may find it difficult to get any kind of uniformity going.  When you look at your needle, it should look very similar to a sewing blanket stitch--vertical bars spaced out with yarn traveling horizontally between them, and the horizontal part should look kind of like it’s weaving in and out, in this case over the stitch it came from and under the stitch it’s going into.

Super Stretchy Cast On (double twist)

This one shares many of the same characteristics as the single twist cast on, both the positive and the negative, with one HUGE difference:  this cast on will give you stretch instead of stability.  The amount of stretch is variable, and tends to adjust itself based on what you work out of it on the first few rows of the work.  It’s ideal for a rib or cable pattern with no bottom border, including top-down socks and gloves, cowls, hats, or limb-warmers.  The stretchy cast on is most easily executed by placing a slipknot on the working needle, taking the live yarn, making a loop/twist like before, then twisting it one more time before sliding it onto the needle.  The biggest challenge when using this cast on is that if you do not slide the stitches close together and pull up all their slack, they become irregular in size later.  As a result, your first row working into them will be tight, just like with the simple cast on.

Crochet Cast On (picking up stitches)

This is probably the second-easiest to execute.  Nothing fancy here, just make a slipknot, chain however many stitches you want to cast on.  Then you get your knitting needle and pick up the back bar of each chain stitch (I say back bar because it makes what crocheters call a ‘neat edge’ at the bottom, but you can pick up the front top if that’s easiest for you).  It is a very stable edge, but has a bit more give to it than the simple cast on, and makes a somewhat ornamental, very visible bottom edge.  This cast on is the gentlest, sensory-wise, as you have no extra yarn touching you and there is little risk of the stitch getting too tight to work.

Long Tail Cast On (two-strand cast on)

Personally, I hate long tail.  If you don’t judge the length of your tail correctly, you’ll either run out before you’ve cast the right length or you’ve got all that wasted yarn.  I’m so, so bad at estimating that kind of length.  That being said, it is extremely easy to work into, and is the foundation of most provisional/invisible cast on techniques (which allow you to make live-stitch borders that allow you to work both up and down from the same edge with no seam, very handy for fancy borders).  To execute the long-tail cast on, first acknowledge that you’re probably going to estimate your tail length wrong and be ready to sacrifice a few inches of yarn (I’ve been told that the simplest way to estimate is to get two to three times as much length as the width of your work, depending on the size of needle, but let me tell ya, this definitely doesn’t always work for me...).  It’s like cooking pasta or making buttercream frosting:  size up the project, estimate the amount you think you’ll need, you are wrong.  Now that you’ve come to terms with the loss and reminded yourself that it’s not your fault and you’re going to trust the process...twist the yarn around the needle so that you have the dead yarn (the tail end) crossing over the top of the live yarn (the skein end).  With my mobility issues, I’ve found it easiest to hold my live yarn like I always do (behind the index, in front of middle and ring fingers, behind the pinky; sometimes, if the yarn feels like it’s getting away from me, I’ll slow it down by looping around my pinky once) and hold my dead yarn looped around my thumb and using my ring finger or pinky to catch up fresh loops.  It’s difficult to execute this cast on if you hold the two ends in different hands, but it is possible if you don’t have enough control in your yarn hand--in that case, hold the dead yarn to the left (the ‘bottom’ of the cast edge) and the live yarn to the right (the ‘top’ of the cast edge); this is also the easy way for knitters who hold their yarn English style.  Okay!  All that complicated stuff is out of the way.  Now is where it gets extremely simple:  You’re going to make a single twist on the dead yarn (as if you were casting it onto the needle; as I mentioned, I like to keep this loop ready on my thumb, as if my thumb were my left needle), insert your needle knitwise and use your live yarn to knit a stitch onto your needle while dropping the twisted loop from your thumb and tugging the slack tight.  That’s it.  That’s all it is.  Just using loops on a tail to knit through.  You can even use scrap yarn from the same skein or dye lot and have your tail be a totally separate piece.  You can use a contrasting yarn for the tail and then come through and add a border by using that contrasting yarn to find where to pick up stitches, after which you can just remove the contrasting yarn (this is called a provisional or temporary cast on, and it’s the easiest way to leave live stitches for a decorative edge).  Sensory-wise, since you have two distinct strands of yarn doing two different tasks, this method is kind of icky; for me, I spend the whole time mentally chanting ‘nope’ while I remember that I have Big Plans™ for a fancy edge.

[artificialqueens]

In the Dark (Camgeria) - Athena2

Summary: Camden is dragged to a haunted house by Bosco and Daya. After she gets lost inside, Angeria comes to her rescue.

A/N: This is just a cute Halloween fic I wanted to post!! I really hope you like it, and please leave feedback if you like! Thank you to Writ for your help <3

It’s not that Camden doesn’t like Halloween. She loves seeing the fiery red leaves fall down and crunch under her feet. She loves looking up costume ideas and putting one together to wear to work. She loves how it gets so cold at night that it's easy to justify staying in with a blanket and some tea and relaxing Halloween movies to drown out the scream-filled horror movies her roommate Bosco loves.

She likes Halloween.

Just not the scary parts.

“This is so cool!” Bosco screams from the passenger seat as their girlfriend, Daya, pulls into the haunted house’s parking lot. It’s not really a house—it’s a giant warehouse made of faded gray stone, with broken windows inside rusted frames. It was probably condemned for health reasons at one point.

“So cool!” Daya says cheerfully.

Camden just wonders how she let Bosco talk her into this. Probably the promise of hot chocolate after. Camden is easily tempted by hot drinks.

The line to get in weaves through the parking lot, moving fast with the pace of Camden’s heart.

“You said this wouldn’t be that scary!” Camden says, shuddering at the entrance’s Beware sign written in a dark red color that she knows is just paint, but looks a little too close to blood for comfort.

“It isn’t,” Bosco says.

Camden huffs as they finally enter the warehouse. The entrance is designed like an old mansion, with fancy chairs and lace-covered tables. There are portraits on the wall, but a closer look reveals that they’re zombies. And that red design on the striped wallpaper is meant to be blood. Camden ignores the shiver down her spine as they get their tickets and prepare to start their walk through the house.

The door opens into a hallway that will take them to the first room. It’s pitch black, like walking into the mouth of a giant monster.

“Are there no lights in here?” Camden demands. “Not even a single one? It’s not like one little lightbulb somewhere would run up the electric bill.”

“Camden, it’s okay,” Daya says. “Most haunted houses are dark inside, but they have little lights and signs inside to guide you.” She points to a tiny red light blinking on the wall, pointing them to the room.

“I wish I knew that before I agreed to this,” Camden mutters under her breath, but Daya and Bosco are too busy marveling over how real the cobwebs dangling over the door look. Camden thinks it’s less an instance of realistic effects and more of a lack of dusting.

The door creaks as it opens, and Camden clenches her shoulders.

It’s styled like a dungeon, with rusty chains hanging from the ceiling and cages in the corners. The haunted house actors laugh and reach out from the cages, but there are lots of lights and it’s not as bad as Camden was expecting. Especially if she keeps her eyes on the back of Bosco’s familiar flannel shirt.

Camden manages through the next few rooms, with blood-splattered walls and more groaning actors jumping out at them. Camden’s doing okay—she thinks she is, anyway. She’s jumped and yelped and only clutched at Bosco once.

And then they reach room number four.

It’s dark inside, with only one lantern revealing a surprisingly tiny, surprisingly empty room.

There’s nothing here at all, and Camden is trying to get the hell out because she doesn’t think haunted houses would have empty rooms, and she’d like to avoid whatever trick is coming. But Daya and Bosco are too slow in front of her, and then there’s a crack like a boom of thunder somewhere.

A white face like the moon suddenly appears in the dark sky of the room. A white face with smeared clown paint and blood all over its lips, lips that are opening to release a cackling laugh through sharp teeth—

Camden screams, her vision blurry, as she finds the first door she can and runs. The clown is still laughing; she can hear heavy footsteps and the laugh that makes her hair stand on end. She keeps running, her heart like a drumbeat in her ears, until the footsteps and maniacal laughter are gone, and she can finally catch her breath.

She’s in a hallway, as dark and long as an abyss, ready to swallow her. There’s a faint red light down the hall, but it’s so dim it’s practically a mile away. Things are quiet, quiet enough for her to hear her own heartbeat, and she realizes how alone she is in this hallway. It’s like she’s drifting through outer space, and she shrinks against the wall, breaths shuddering out of her. She’ll be lost in some stupid haunted house forever.

A minute passes, and Camden pulls herself together. She’s acting like the horror movie idiots Bosco is always complaining about, and if she wants to get out of here, she has to do it herself. She slowly unpeels herself from the wall and makes a plan.

She can’t try to find her way back to the start; if she gets it right, she has to see that bloody clown and go through all the rooms again, and if she gets it wrong, she’ll be even more lost in a haunted house. She’ll just have to keep going, and she takes a breath and sets off. But before she can take a step, she hears a distant scream, and then footsteps clacking along the floor, and her heart jumps into her throat.

“Daya? Bosco?” Her voice is shaking, squeaky like an old spring. “Are–are you there? If this is a joke, I swear—”

“Is someone there? Are you lost too?” A voice suddenly asks, and Camden yelps, sure it’s some sort of creepy doll or murderous clown lying in wait to terrify her when she can’t see it coming.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice continues. It’s a nice voice, with a warm southern accent, and Camden feels her heart slow just a bit. “I was here with a friend, but we got separated after that creepy room.”

“The one with the clown,” Camden says bitterly. “It got me too.”

“Yeah.” The voice is growing closer now, gentle footsteps padding across the tile. “I can handle scary stuff. I watch lots of scary movies. Clowns always get me, though. My friend didn’t know that clowns would be here, but I should’ve figured.”

“My friends told me this wouldn’t even be scary! But they love scary things, and I…don’t.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out myself.” Camden hears a smile in the voice, and then somehow they’re both laughing in the dark. Camden’s racing heart finally calms, and she takes her first real breath in what feels like hours. “I’m Angeria, by the way,” the voice continues.

“Camden.”

The moment is cut like a knife by distant screams from somewhere in the warehouse.

“We should probably try to get out of here,” Angeria says.

“Right. Um, is it okay if I grab your hand?” Camden asks, grateful the darkness hides the warmth in her cheeks. Sure, she doesn’t know Angeria, but she’s been so kind, and her voice alone is like a port for Camden to cling to in this dark storm. “That way we can stick together, right?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll try to find your shoulder, I guess, and then you can—wait a minute! My phone!” Camden’s confused, until she sees the glow of a phone screen and then the brighter sweep of the phone’s flashlight. “I didn’t even think to use this until now. I’m acting like an idiot in a horror movie.”

“Me too,” Camden laughs. “I was too busy panicking.” The flashlight allows her to finally take a look at the woman, and Camden’s stomach leaps at the sight.

Angeria has warm eyes to match the sweetness of her voice, with dark brown hair and a big smile. She’s beautiful, even in the harsh phone light.

“It’s nice to be able to see you,” Angeria says shyly.

“You too,” Camden says, and they share a tiny laugh.

“Let’s go.” Angeria offers her hand, and Camden takes it. Her grip is a little sweaty, but Angeria already found her cowering in the dark in a haunted house, so it’s not like Camden has a lot of dignity left. Besides, it seems like Angeria doesn’t mind, just holding her hand tight and leading her down the hall.

Maybe it’s the light, or having Angeria’s hand in hers, but Camden feels safer, somehow, as they walk down the hall. Like nothing in this warehouse can get her as long as Angeria is at her side.

They trade small talk through all the rooms. Angeria talks about being a teacher, and the stories of the crafts she does or the hilarious things her students say keep Camden grounded. Angeria is like a lighthouse light through the storm, and Camden hangs on to her voice and her stories to get through the rooms designed to look hospitals and cabins and one truly creepy kids’ bedroom with demonic stuffed animals. Camden adds in her own stories about dance, keeping her mind off the zombie cast member in the corner, or the ghostly moans coming from behind her.

“We’re doing great,” Angeria says as they exit another room. “I think we’re close to the end now.”

Camden just nods. She knows Angeria is probably only being this nice to her because she’s basically a scared little kid, but Angeria seems too kind for this to be anything but kindness. She could have just left Camden here, but she didn’t. Every time one of the cast members jumps out at them, Camden squeezes Angeria’s hand too hard, rushing out an apology a second later. And every time, Angeria brushes the apology off and tells her it’s okay.

They reach one last door, and cool air soothes over Camden’s flushed cheeks and normal voices instead of scary ones fill her ears, and Camden realizes they’re outside. The moon is like a safety net over her, and she finally lets go of Angeria’s hand as they breathe in the air.

“We made it!” Camden says. Her wobbly legs are starting to feel steady again.

Angeria laughs. “We made it.”

“Camden!” She hears Daya’s relieved voice, and then she and Bosco come running. “Thank God, I thought we were gonna have to send a rescue party.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Bosco says nonchalantly. “But I’m glad you’re okay.” They squeeze Camden’s arm in comfort.

“I’m fine. Angeria helped me.” Camden says, nodding at her. It’s still dark outside, but with the bright lights from the building and the parking lot, surrounded by her friends and the other people lingering around, her earlier fear seems ridiculous. But it has been real, and she might still be inside, hiding in the dark, if not for Angeria.

“Well, thanks for helping this chicken,” Bosco says to Angeria.

She laughs. “It was nothing. We helped each other. I think you were pretty brave for someone who doesn’t like scary things,” she says softly, brown eyes peering into Camden’s. She rocks on her heels for a few seconds, biting her lip. “I'm gonna go find my friend. Maybe I’ll see you around, Camden.”

“Maybe,” Camden says, and then she’s gone, like a ghost into the crowd.

“Camden!” Daya yells.

“What?”

Daya and Bosco stare at her with wide eyes. “You should ask her out!” They say simultaneously.

“Why would I—no, I shouldn’t. I’m just some person she met in the dark.”

“I think she likes you,” Daya says.

“And you obviously like her, you’re all red,” Bosco adds.

“Well, I was fleeing for my life not long ago,” Camden says defensively, but she can’t even pretend her eyes aren’t searching the parking lot, trying to find Angeria.

“Oh, just ask her out! And you might want to make it fast because she’s coming back over here right now.”

Camden doesn’t even have time to panic before she spins around and Angeria is back, giving her a hesitant smile. “Would it be okay if I give you my phone number?” Angeria asks.

Camden’s heart skips a beat, but it’s not out of fear this time. “It would be okay, but I actually wanted to ask…um, do you want to get hot chocolate? It’s okay if you’re busy or—“

“I’d love to get hot chocolate with you,” Angeria says, smiling eagerly.

Camden grins. “Do you…want to go right now?”

“Let’s go.” Angeria offers her hand like she did in the haunted house, and Camden takes it.

Something tells her it won’t be the last time she does.

[dzpenumbra]

1/21/23

This month is flying by. I didn't sleep well last night. My cat didn't come to bed for the second consecutive night. I think her hips are flaring up or something, I don't know. I don't want to bug her. I got up early, got my weighted blanket and came down to sleep in the comfy chair with her. She was... very aggressively hungry. And I refused to get up because I was nodding off tired. And it was a bad combo. She ended up going after my arms and legs to like... make me get her food. I was very upset with this. It's bad enough to fight with "friends" and family, but... conflict with her is just... it's a special kind of horrible.

I have no idea how she's so hungry. I haven't changed anything about her diet in like a month, at least. She was extremely pissed that I didn't get her food like 2 hours earlier than normal. I don't know, maybe I should just do it next time. I ended up doing it in the end, but like. Yeah, that moment stuck with me, because she was clearly sending a message and I just... don't know what to do. I can't feed her earlier, I'm supposed to be catching up on sleep, I haven't had a full night's sleep in like... I don't even remember anymore. If I feed her dinner later... she just gets pissed at that time of day. It's just a no-win situation. And I can't do snacks or treats or anything because of the thyroid shit so this is just... how things are. Ugh.

Yoga was good. I immediately started work on my new necklace and that ended up being a whole-day project. It's still not even close to complete. I got my wrapped bloodstone out, arranged the tiger's eye and obsidian beads in a pattern I liked, picked out some wooden beads I want to add in to separate them... and then decided to decorate the raw wood beads. First I was going to draw on them, then I decided it might be easier to dye them and then carve away the ink? Mostly because archival ink was just smearing, it wasn't soaking into the wood. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to seal it in, and it would just smear and come off. I decided to dye the beads with my old Kuro Sumi tattoo ink. It sure ain't getting any other use. -_-

I decided this was as good a time as any to finally whip up that beeswax/oil wood finish mix, which was surprisingly easy to make. Then I dyed the beads, which was also very quick and simple. I started laundry while they dried. When I got back, I decided to try to seal one of the beads and the ink just... mixed with the wax paste and got everywhere. I have no idea how much ink actually absorbed into the wood or if it just caked onto it or something. To reduce the risk of black staining - because this ink is like... super permanent - I ended up deciding to go for more of an eroded look, and tried to strip off as much of the caked-on ink as I could. This took forever, in fact... my wrist is struggling to type right now because of it. Rubbing alcohol, the scouring pad side of a sponge, 130 grit sandpaper, just over and over. For 12 beads, one by one. When that was done, I popped a coat of the wax on and they've been chillin ever since. They came out pretty decent, I'll see tomorrow how they look with the stones.

The only step left after that is the weaving, which I was expecting to do most of the day today, but didn't do at all. I'm planning to do a... 6 strand... but doubled over, so technically 3 strand... and I'm planning to take a paper clip and shape part of it into a ringlet to start my weave on. That will end up being the anchor point for the clasp that will be tied to the other end. Then I'm going to weave about half the length of the side on both sides... so... probably about... 8-9 inches total? Maybe some square knots inbetween the beads to break it up a bit too. I'll play it by ear. I'm excited to see how it turns out.

That consumed the entire day. Not a bad thing, of course. Today was just... art problem solving, music and laundry. Planning to pick up where I left off tomorrow.

No deep thoughts tonight. No psychoanalysis. No dissecting the psyche and pondering existence. Just... I made some things that I'm conflicted on whether they're cool or not. But I made things, and they are uniquely mine. And that. THAT is art. Because I could go buy dyed beads off the shelf. Or order them delivered to my door via the internet. But these beads have the same exact ink in them that I injected manually into my own skin. There was a process. They are the first of their kind. They were handled individually and were crafted with intention by a person. I will always have the memory of the intense smell of rubbing alcohol as I tried to strip off the excess ink without staining my countertops. Devin Townsend's Nightwork in my ears. Those pieces were part of my life, they have a place in my memory. You can't say that about mass produced shit. You can't say that about emulated shit. So even if these beads aren't right for this piece, I'm 100% keeping them and using them for something. They are special!

And with this theory, it really makes me think - there is no bad art but lazy art. Art that intends to cut as many corners as possible to avoid being what it is claiming to be. I mean, I honestly am not sure if bad art is even a thing, but like... if it were? I'd think that's it. Because, typically, when you cut corners... that just means someone (or something) else is filling in the gaps. And the piece ends up being an expression of that person. Not the artist. So... it's still art, you know. But it's not your art. Right? Okay, I can tell I'm very overtired. I literally just said "no deep thoughts tonight" a paragraph and a half ago, I WAS SO CLOSE!!!

Sleep time.

[thesecrimsonstrings-if]

What would it take for the ros to be convinced by the mc to stay in bed with them?

honestly, just asking them to stay is enough. clear communication is a major part of making relationships work, even if it's in situations like this 😌 this kind of made me think of something fluffy tho hehe

RONAN BENNETT

the coily-haired man believed in many things. he was a dreamer who wasn't grounded by earthly pleasures. he loved with a heart not yet murked by the apathy of the world.

so there he lays, right beside you. your eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a steady pace. like this, you seem like you're at peace. like your past is nothing but a bad dream that you would forget the moment you sit down to have breakfast in the morning.

he curls his arm around you, careful not to wake you up. ronan knew you had a long day of staying under the sun and making sure rogue supernaturals weren't attacking unsuspecting humans. he smiles slightly as he remembers you groaning about your day and hugging him from behind.

ronan kisses your nose softly and tries not to laugh as you scrunch it up in your sleep. his next words ring like a warm blanket over your unconscious self.

you had once told him that you were not capable of being loved. “it isn't something i deserve, an emotion which is that pure.”

“i don't think that is up for anyone to decide for themselves, though,” ronan had replied. the look he sends you has you biting your lip and looking away in an attempt to not give in.

“even so i–”

“you are incredibly lovable, darling,” ronan cuts you off, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes with a smile. “after all, i knew i loved you even before i knew you.”

CÉLIA DUPONT

the heiress is not an easy person to deal with. she had been reminded of this for the majority of her life. that is why she adopted a façade that made people think she was approachable even with the barbed words that she hid behind a pleasant smile.

so why was it that when she was with you, her words were stripped of venom and were as soothing as a pint of ambrosia? why did her smile turned wholehearted and true? why did she let you chip away the ice she had built around her heart?

oh, but for what reason other than love?

célia would have scoffed before, dismissed that thought in an instant. but as she lays beside you, your arms around her waist and eyes closed, she knows it is certainly not a false tale that her heart has weaved in its drunken wake of your being.

times like these are when célia gets to see you completely in peace, with arms around her like she is the only home you had ever known. the only anchor in an unpredictable storm. and she feels the same. oh mon dieu, does she feel the same.

you had cried in her arms once, clinging to her desperately. “i am afraid of loving you. i will always be afraid.”

“you won't be, i promise. stay with me,” she soothed you with a kiss full of reassurance.

“b-but,” you say with a gasp as you pull away, fears already melting away, “what if i am?”

“then, mon amour,” she whispered against your trembling lips, “i will wait forever for you.”

S BAKKOUSH

for S, there weren't many things that they weren't sure of in life. they were sure that they wanted to be famous one day and put their charm and good looks to a great use. they were sure that they would move around influential people and that it was only about time that their ambition guaranteed their success.

what they were not sure about was you.

an unknown star that had wandered into their galaxy and made them desire something that wasn't even the last thing on their mind. love.

so they searched for you in places they thought you wandered in, unknowing of the fact that they had already wandered in your heart. with a different name, sure, but with the same soul and being. your world collided with sparks and fireworks exploding all over, so bright and all-consuming.

they laid in your shared bed, your body turned towards them and your starry eyes closed in deep sleep. their arm is around you and they hold you with all the gentleness of a person in love. with your peaceful expression and your skin touching theirs, even in your sleep you drove them wild.

“what is it that you have ever truly desired?” you had asked them once before in a whisper, as if you were sharing an intimate secret.

many things had came in S's mind after that question. money. fame. influence. no, there was only one deafening answer to that.

“you. it has always been you.”

I TACHIBANA

it didn't come easy to the hunter, the concept of love and all its complications. they weren't completely opposed to the idea, just that it didn't seem to be in store for them anytime soon. unbeknownst to tachibana, the future had decided to give them a proverbial middle finger.

it was not supposed to happen. you were the last person on earth that they would have ever wanted to fall in love with. but the heart wants what it wants, right?

somehow, with time, their words became less sharper towards you and their eyes softened as they looked over at you. it wasn't sudden, it happened before tachibana could fully process what they were subconsciously doing with each passing day. and in the end, they stopped caring.

you feel alive in their arms as they hold you, human or not. and the hunter? they look like they're completely vulnerable and in love. and not just in love, like they are beyond all forms of deliverance.

so it is with a rare smile when they hold you close as you sleep. tiredness from the day taking over you, you were eager to share your hunter's warmth and bask in their praise. and they did give them to you, although it was paired with their usual eye roll and annoyed grumbling.

tachibana's breath hitch in their throat when you murmur their name in your sleep, their heart almost jumping out of their chest with how rapidly it was beating by that single action of yours. they close their eyes to calm down and remember a conversation that you had once before.

“i do not blame you for treating me like that before,” you tried to sound cheerful but the hunter could tell that even your laugh was forced. “after all, i am a disease of some sort.”

tachibana shakes their head. “you aren't. i swear you aren't.”

you open your mouth to retort but they beat you to it.

“and even if you were a disease, i would be your cure. because the latter can't exist without the former,” they say before pulling you into a soft kiss, so unlike them. “and believe me when i say that i wouldn't exist without you.”