#it’s just about closeable

[eemoo1o-animoo]

Is this Aloiscore or Lizziecore, I can’t tell (check tags)

[ibrithir-was-here]

Do you know about The Barbie as Sleeping Beauty CD-ROM game and doll?

I do!! She's a really lovely doll. Love that she has closeable eyes to really sell the whole sleeping bit👌

I really want to draw her, I've just got so much going right now :/ But here's the little "short film" of her that was part of the advertisement of the doll, which people have speculated was originally test footage for the first pass at a Barbie feature film, before they made Barbie and the Nutcracker :)

And the play through of the CD ROM game for anyone interested in how the movie's possible plot might have gone

Also very interesting tidbit, this was one of the Barbie dolls where they made a black version of the character as well

[heedra]

I'm trying to get into caves of qud after seeing you post about it but i'm finding it so hard! Do you have any tips for a new player pls? ty

oh man, yeah, the starting curve can be really really difficult! here's my tips for how i get a run off the ground! 1. Avoid min-maxing on a build while you're still getting a feel for what different stats can do for you. Even if you have a very specific idea in mind, it's way more important to have a strong core than idealized stats at game start. Dipping very low on any stat will be punishing in different ways so plan carefully 2. Start in Joppa if you're new to the game. Even a procgen village that's still in the marshes is a way less controlled starting environment.

3. The chests in Joppa that are in rooms with closeable doors can be opened as long as you are in the room, alone, with the door closed. You can often find enough artifacts in there to complete Argyve's first two initial fetchquests right away, which brings you up to level 2 immediately. Even if you don't, you will find stuff to help round out your starting gear! I don’t always do this, and it’s not like, a necessary step, but its good to know about. 4. The chests in Argyve's hut can also be safely opened in his presence as soon as you complete these first two quests and get made his apprentice, if you're looking for more gear with less theft involved. 5. OBTAIN A MISSILE WEAPON AND AMMO FOR IT AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. Cannot stress how many runs I've lost very early because I think to myself 'maybe this time I'll be fine leaving town without a ranged weapon'. There are a lot of enemies that are easy later who you really do not want to touch you at low levels. Even if it's just a shortbow, you want something you can kite and run with. If I start with a bow, I generally pick up all the ammo the merchant has, so that if I pick up a better missile weapon with different ammo requirements later, I'm prepared. 6. Don't do the starting quests straight away! I generally try to spend my first levels exploring the salt marshes and hunting crocs and then only try hitting up Red Rock around level 5 unless I'm really confident I've got a tough build for close-range melee going. There are some valuable things in the marshes that you can stumble across to make your starting game easier, such as a very high-tier merchant and a set of mechanical wings that you can repair post-Red Rock to get in and out of the Rustwells fast. Plus, exploring is fun! 7. If you do just want a big glob of xp that you can obtain relatively safely you can also get the zealot's quest and high-tail it to the Six-Day-Stilt immediately. The desert is pretty safe to traverse if you only do so during daylight, bc you can see the whole tile at once and avoid tiles with enemies. (And if you are traveling to the Stilt at a low level you will want to avoid every hostile creature you see). Completing this quest awards you a big packet of xp, and the Stilt has further opportunities to get xp. (You should honestly always go get this quest first thing even if you don’t intend to complete it for a while, because the zealot doesn’t stick around forever).

8. If you're playing a truekin, you can find at least one guaranteed Becoming Nook and credits to use it at the Rusted Archway, but be warned that this is definitely something you want to do after your starting stuff, it's a little tougher than Red Rock. If you haven't found any cybernetics stuff before this point tho its a really good resource.

9. There is nothing wrong with cutting and running from situations. In fact, even at higher levels, the biggest tool in your arsenal is knowing when you need to bail on a situation and having the means to do so.

10. Do still be prepared to die. A lot. Starting out in Caves of Qud means learning through your own death quite often. I'm still occasionally finding novel new ways the world around me can kill me! It's part of the experience!

[raointean]

Fellowship of the Pranksters: Maedhros is Stubborn

After Angband, Maedhros has a lot of problems with chronic pain with some days being worse than others. He used a cane at one point but decided that wouldn't work because it took up his only free hand.

One morning, he wakes up and figures out very quickly that it's going to be a bad day. His everything hurts and it's not the 'morning pain' that goes away once he starts moving. Being Maedhros, he gets up anyways and starts going down to breakfast.

Maglor takes one look at him and tells him to go back to bed. Maedhros replies that he is not going back up those stairs any time soon. Maglor rolls his eyes and gets up to help him to the table.

The rest of the family are very confused and Nerdanel asks if he's alright. Maedhros says yes at the same time Maglor says no. Maedhros glares at his brother before explaining that he often has issues with pain and it is worse than usual today. There's really nothing to be done about it but cope with it and hope it's better the next day.

This does not alleviate anyone's worries.

After breakfast, Maedhros goes into the study and stays there most of the day.

The next day is slightly better but not by much. He goes downstairs and tells everyone he's fine, although Maglor doesn't believe him, and carries on as usual. The pain steadily grows worse throughout the day until finally, while playing Pallone with Celegorm, Curufin, and Fëanor, he collapses.

Everyone freaks out of course, and they do nothing helpful. Maglor eventually notices the commotion outside and comes to investigate. He sees everyone standing around looking confused and mildly panicked and Maedhros on the ground. He steps in and helps Maedhros up and inside.

Once they're inside, Maglor starts heating some water for tea and finds a closeable flask to put some of the heated water in. Maedhros sits on a couch and tries to relax and convince his muscles to stop shaking. Fëanor enters the room and asks him what happened.

He says that he MAY not have been as fine as he had said that morning and PERHAPS he had pushed himself too far. Fëanor asks him if he needs to see a healer but Maedhros says no. Fëanor asks if he’s sure. Maedhros rolls his eyes and asks if that would make him stop worrying. He lies and says yes. Maedhros agrees to see the healer, but ONLY to make him to feel better.

The healer is there by noon (because Fëanor is a prince with a lot of influence) and gives Maedhros a full examination. At the end of the examination, the healer reports that his joints, muscles, and connective tissues are all super messed up and it’s a miracle he has as much mobility as he does. They also ask if he has ever considered a cane. Maedhros said that he used to use one but, as he only has one hand, it just wasn’t practical.

[pushpinpossumwitchcraft]

Baby Witch Full Moon Guide!!!

With the full moon coming tomorrow night, I thought this might be a good time to make my very first post here on Possum’s Grimoire. I started this blog as a way to keep and organize information for personal use as I learn and grow into my own craft. I’m not trying to teach anyone, but by using a blog I always have access to the information I might need, and its less tedious than constantly carrying a notebook. If you find some of my content useful, feel free to use and reference it, but please keep in mind that I started this for my own learning journey. Maybe we can learn together though, right? 

I’ve rambled long enough, so let’s get down to it. As a baby witch myself, I’m gonna start by just listing some of the things I like to do for a full moon. I wouldn’t call it a ritual necessarily, but its what works for me. 

Smoke Cleansing

I try not to call this smudging in the witchcraft community, but please keep in mind that I am indigenous, so smudging is part of my culture. Either way, smoke cleansing can be done with sage, incense, and other forms of smoke depending on your preferences. I live in a state where it’s legal to smoke weed, so I also smoke cleanse with smoke from that. I like to just ground myself, take a couple deep breaths to get centered, find my intention, and light my sage. I typically light it with the intent to remove any negativity, prevent negativity from entering the space, and with the intent of protecting my space and my energy. I cleanse my doorway, above and around my bed, my window, my clothes, any tarot cards or crystals that may need it, my purse, and my favorite coffee cup. I cleanse the purse and cup simply because they essentially go everywhere with me and pick up a LOT of vibes and energy after a while. I like to start with a clean slate. If I’m feeling up to it I smoke cleanse my car, but that’s only occasionally.

Tarot

I consider myself a pretty intuitive person and tarot has come pretty easily for me from my teenage years. After I cleanse my deck, I smoke a little bit (mentioned above and completely optional), light my candles, and spend some time with my deck. I read on whatever comes to mind. It could be how this next moon phase will look for me, it could be about personal struggles, interpersonal relationships, whatever you find your brain gravitating back to. The full moon seems to heighten my receptivity to messages I need to hear.

Moon Water

Okay, so when I say baby witch, I mean that for a little over a year I’ve been doing research and small acts of practice. I was too busy for much more than the basics, and if I wasn’t busy I was exhausted. I really wish I would have learned about moon water sooner, because its so versatile but so easy to make. I use it in my glass pipes (again, my state is legal and this is completely optional), my tea, baths, lemonade, some cooking, spellwork, and there’s so much more you can do with it. I was intimidated by it, and by my lack of experience and knowledge, but it’s easier to do than I had imagined. You take a clear container, jar, bottle, etc. Basically a closeable container of sorts, and you fill it with water. Since I drink mine I use tap or filtered, remember to be safe if you’re consuming things. If you’re not drinking it, the water choice is up to you! You fill your container and put it in the windowsill once the sun goes down, somewhere it’ll be under the full moon. Just leave it there and make sure to take it out before the sun comes up the next day. I’m sure it could get fancier but I try to keep it simple. When you put your water out, you can also set the crystals you cleansed earlier in the window to be charged under the full moon as well.

Baths

Okay so I know this might be a little unconventional but I take baths on the full moon, light my sage, candles and incense. I use epsom salt, bubble bath, bath bombs, bath teas, and bath oils depending on my intent, in varying scents. I get in and just meditate, visualize, and tune into my higher self. I also visualize washing away any unwanted energy or things that no longer serve me.

This isn’t necessarily witchcraft, but I try to incorporate self care into what I do. As a witch who struggles with mental health and burnout often, I find that the self care under the full moon leaves me feeling more replenished. So if you want to read tarot with a face mask, do it! You’re prioritizing your happiness and energy, and that’s powerful too.

Like I said, its just bare bones of what you can do during a full moon, but its something! I hope this was useful to someone, even if that’s just future me.

-Possum 

[howlinchickhowl]

Alright this is happening. The other day @mickeyssleevelessflannel made this post about Ian being sick and not wanting to give in to it, but then giving into it and then enjoying Mickey taking care of him, and I maybe got a little obsessed with it and ended up writing something as a sort of post-script to the actual post. 

I’ve called it Song of the Hearth, and it’s basically 2000 words of Mickey making Ian soup and you can read it here under the cut, or here on A03. Enjoy?

The ringing phone is too loud in the quiet of the kitchen and Mickey quickly thumbs at the volume button to bring it down a couple notches while he waits. Next place they live they’re gonna have some doors.

 It’s usually not a problem, it’s just the two of them and it’s not like either of them have a strong attachment to privacy. A lifetime of sharing bedrooms with innumerable siblings followed by six months of shitting in front of each other in the joint takes care of that sort of thing pretty quick.

 But Ian’s finally passed out on the couch after spending most of the day feverishly insisting he isn’t sick and doesn’t need a nap, and Mickey wouldn’t mind if the little kitchen he’s currently hovering in had some kind of closeable door instead of just a corner to hide around so he could take care of his shit without waking the little drama queen up, is all.

 The call rings through to voicemail. Fucking typical. He hangs up without leaving a message and is leaning against the countertop where he can watch Ian shivering unhappily under his ratty star blanket when it starts to ring.

 He glances quickly at the caller ID before bringing the phone up to his ear.

 “Hey.” He mutters, trying to keep his voice as low as possible while still being audible at the other end. “Thanks for calling back.”

 “I saw your number on my missed calls list and I thought I was having some sorta hallucination! Is everything ok?” She’s trying to play it off for laughs but the question, her concern, is very real. In retrospect he thinks he probably should’ve just texted.

 They text each other sometimes. Every now and then Mickey’ll see an article about some kid getting eaten by a ‘gator at Disneyworld and text it to her with the raised eyebrow emoji because Florida’s a dumbass fucking place to choose to live.

 Sometimes he wakes up to pictures of a sunrise over the water or some frolicking fucking flamingoes or some shit and an inspirational quote because Fiona Gallagher is an idiot who moves to swampy shitholes but she is also a first class fucking troll who loves to waste his time.

 Sometimes she’ll text him to ask about Ian. Sometimes he answers.

 He’s never called her before, he should’ve known it would set off some kind of alarm bells.

 “I need your soup recipe.”

 Best tactic for dealing with a concerned Gallagher sibling is to cut them off and then confound them. Don’t give them a chance to work themselves up into a fit, just get straight to the point.

 “My…My what?” He thinks it’s worked, worry in her voice giving way to confusion and amusement.

 “Your soup recipe. For soup.”

 “Mickey, I don’t think I have a soup recipe.” Maybe he’s confounded her too much?

 “Ian says you used to make soup when he was sick.”

 “He’s sick?” She’s worried again. And Christ he gets what Ian means when he says she can over-react. Understands why Ian doesn’t always want to let her know when something’s going on with him. Mickey can practically hear her planning what to pack in her fucking suitcase when she gets off the phone so she can come up here and nurse him back to health.

 In the living room, Ian shifts under his blanket, his huge-ass feet in faded white athletic socks sticking out from the bottom end look so small as they rub against each other. His face is scrunched up in a grumpy frown that Mickey thinks is pretty cute, even if it’s because he’s not feeling good.

 It irks him, Fiona jumping into battle mode. Ian’s a grown ass man and he’s doing real good and he doesn’t need Big Sister Energy barging in here trying to take care of him. He can take care of himself. And when he can’t, well, he’s got Mickey. And it pisses him off just a little bit every time Fiona implies, even if she doesn’t mean to, that that’s not enough.

 “It’s just a fuckin’ cold man, he’s fine. But he hasn’t eaten a lot and he keeps yackin’ on about your fuckin’ soup so I figured I’d make it for him for dinner.”

 “Mickey –“ God he can hear her fucking melt, the affection creeping in when she says his name like he’s some sort of sweetheart fucking marvel for wanting to make soup for his own fucking husband. He’s gotta shut that shit down straight away before it gets out of hand and she starts thinking it’s ok to start calling him Sweetcheeks or whatever it is she calls Ian.

.

 “Look he’s gotta eat something alright? Just give me the damn recipe so I can make a list for Wholefoods.”

 “Wholefoods? You hit your head there Milkovich?” Yeah that about did it, cut-off and confound, works every time. Her saccharine lovey-dovey-voice has been replaced with her give-Mickey-shit-voice and that’s a spot he’s much more comfortable being in.

 “Yeah, on your baby brother’s rock hard cock, just tell me what’s in the damn soup?”

 Fiona laughs quietly and he can hear her moving around, rustling something. Ian (Mickey and Ian, Ian would insist) bought her a kettle for Christmas last year and he can hear it start to whistle. As she tells him,

 “It’s nothing special.” The whistling stops as she pulls the kettle off the stove and clanks around with cups and spoons and whatever else you use to make tea.  “You probably don’t even have to go to the store. I never had the money for Wholefoods. I just used to dump a whole buncha Herb-ox into some hot water and stir in whatever vegetables were in the freezer and bits of chopped up bacon.”

 Mickey processes all of that information with a grimace.

 “Jesus. That’s the greatest meal Ian’s ever eaten?” That does not sound like soup. That sounds like salty lumpy chicken water with stuff in it.

 “Yeah. It was pretty disgusting, honestly?” She chuckles like it’s a joke, but Mickey definitely agrees with her. “It was just hot and salty and cheap, and only when they were sick, no sane or healthy person would be asking for it.”

 “Alright, well guess I don’t gotta go anywhere then, pretty sure we got Herb-ox. What flavor?” Quiet as he can, he starts pulling open the cupboards where Ian keeps all the herbs and dried shit. Pantry cupboard, he calls it, cute little grin on his face because he likes the idea of them having a pantry, even if it’s just a cupboard that he’s decided to call that. Mickey’s face can’t decide whether to grin or roll his eyes when he thinks about it. It probably ends up doing both.

 “Whatever we had? If you have both I would do two parts chicken, one part vegetable. And if you’ve got any of that wagon wheel pasta he likes you could throw some of that in as well.”

 “Yeah alright I’ll check.” He’s pretty sure they have some of that stuff, Ian makes it for Franny when they babysit.

 It’s quiet for a minute, Mickey looking for the ingredients for the world’s worst soup in the cupboards and trying to figure out how to get off the phone now that he has what he needs without seeming ungrateful or impolite or whatever.

 “It’s nice of you to do that for him Mickey.” She’s gone soft again, like she’s smiling at him, like she’d give him a hug if they were in the same room, and that’s enough for him to stop caring about being polite.

 “Yeah I’m gonna go now.” He tells her and he can hear her grin on the other end.

 “Give Ian my love?”

 “Nope.” He drops the call while she’s laughing and sets to boiling up some water for the “soup”.

  Fifteen minutes later he sets the bowl down in front of Ian on the coffee table and touches his fingers to the little curls on top of his sleeping head, stroking through them gently until Ian stirs and snuffles his way into consciousness.

 “Whassit hmm?” Ian murmurs, rubbing his eyes and scrunching up his cheeks, flushed with illness and with sleep, cute as a fucking button.

 “Gonna have to try that one again man, whatever you think you said, it wasn’t words.”

 “Hmm, sorry, m’sleepy.” Ian still hasn’t fully opened his eyes but he turns over and stretches, trying to wake up properly.

 “I know, but I got something for you.”

 “I don’t think I can have sex right now Mick.” The little shit pats him on the knee with a smug smile that would be really fucking alluring if he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s pyjamas and a layer of fever-sweat. “Maybe in like an hour.”

 “That’s adorable that you think I want anything to do with your sweaty ass, probably fucking contagious dick right now, but no. I made soup.” That gets Ian to crack an eye open. One full, one squinting at him suspiciously.

 “You made soup? Like you bought soup?”

 “No, like I called your bitch of a sister down in God’s waiting room and I got her to tell me how to make her soup. And then I made it.”

 It’s the mention of Fiona that gets Ian really to perk himself awake, using his elbows on the arm of the couch to lever himself up to sitting as Mickey passes him the steaming bowl of sad, pathetic, poor-people soup that he really hopes is gonna be as good as Fiona’s would have been. Ian accepts the bowl and the spoon and stares at it a little goofily.

 “You did that?” He beams up at Mickey like he’s done something real, and Mickey can feel his face start to flush with the pleasure of it. He tries to tamp down his smile a little bit as he lowers himself down to sit next to his husband.

 “Yeah, Raggedy Ann, I did that. So now you owe me a BJ for the soup, and probably also one to make up for me having to have a conversation with Fiona.”

 “Fuck you, I’m at least Andy. And you like Fiona, you don’t get blow jobs for talking to someone you like.” Ian has returned his focus now mainly to the soup, stirring it around a little, blowing on it to cool it. Mickey’s arm stretches itself out along the back of the couch and his hand finds its way into the hairs at the base of Ian’s skull, just stroking through a little in the way they both like.

 “Alright. We can argue the fine details later, right now you gotta eat.”  And Ian does.

 He takes a spoonful and brings it up to his mouth with enthusiasm, but residual lethargy. Mickey can’t help but watch his face for signs of disgust or disappointment. And he’s not ashamed to say he loses his breath a little bit when Ian’s face lights up after swallowing his first mouthful. 

 He turns to Mickey, licking his lips and smiling the biggest, shiniest fucking smile and whispers, like it’s a secret, like he’s awestruck, “this is Fiona’s soup.” And Mickey could cry with how happy Ian looks in that moment, like Mickey’s given him the greatest gift.

 The rest of the soup disappears within minutes, Ian making happy little slurps and hums as he brings the spoon to his mouth over and over again. And Mickey just watches him, fingers rubbing in his hair, and thinks about how he never expected to feel happy like this. Never in a million years would have thought that happiness was watching your feverish husband eat shitty soup on a rented couch on a Wednesday afternoon. But it is. It fucking is and Mickey will never get used to feeling this happy, will never get enough of it as long as he lives.

 Ian finishes the soup and as soon as he’s set the bowl down he’s shuffling over to wedge himself against Mickey’s side, properly under his arm, face buried in his neck huffing hot shallow breaths into his skin as he falls quickly back to sleep. Mickey shifts a little so that he can press a kiss into Ian’s hairline, he’s still warm, skin tacky and honestly pretty gross. Maybe after he’s slept a bit Mickey can get him in the shower.

 He reaches for the remote and spends a few minutes flicking through the channels idly while Ian shuffles around and makes himself comfortable using Mickey as his pillow. Discovery channel is running an afternoon of dinosaur documentaries that looks pretty interesting, so he puts on the subtitles and turns the volume way down, settling himself in for a lazy afternoon.

 “Hey Mick?” Ian mumbles, fingers clutching at the material of Mickey’s hoody, like he’s trying to hold on to being awake for just another minute, like he’s got something important he has to stay awake for.

 “Hmm?”

 “Thanks. For th’soup.” Mickey chuckles. Real important shit to say Gallagher. Good job keeping yourself up for that one.

 “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome.” He tells him, too fond, always too fond. “Fucking soup junkie.”

 “Mick?” Fingers tighten in his hoody again, and it’s stupid cute that Ian seems to be using that as a grounding tool.

 “Shhh,” Mickey whispers into his hairline, smoothing back his hair at the front with his free hand. “C’mon man go back to sleep.”

 Ian smacks his lips and loosens his death grip on Mickey’s sweater, and then, as he’s drifting into deeper breaths and his eyelashes start to flutter against the skin of Mickey’s neck, he breathes,

 “You take real good care of me, y’know?”

[princeanxious]

Trust is a Fragile, Fickle Demon.

Pairing: Analogical

Fandom: Sanders sides

Warnings: hurt/comfort, happy ending, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of mental abuse, mentions of abusive parent, mentioned of past betrayed trust, trust issues, let me know if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 1.9k words

(A/n): this is sort of a short one, idk that im very proud of it, its written a little differently than I normally write so let me know if ya’ll like it? I tried!

Trust was something earned, gained, given, not expected. At least, to Logan, thats how it’d always been. The omega had learned young the mistake of trusting anyone so readily, a freely given token of connection that only served to hurt him in the long run.

Even now, Logan was aware his upbringing had been slightly rougher than his common peers. His therapists all readily, or subtly, pointed out that his alcoholic alpha of a single father who never should have been a parent to begin with was undoubtedly the root cause of many of his issues.

First of all of them was the lasting trauma of the emotional abuse he’d endured as a child and teenager. Never smart enough, never quiet enough, never clean enough. He was never enough, he was never going to be enough. He was a weak, broken, and useless omega in his father's eyes, and would never amount to anything more. And while he never wanted to believe it, often said he never believed any of it, he could only confidently say he didn’t truly believe even just part of it by the time he was 23.

Another was that he’d never been given any freedom to do as he pleased when he was younger. He never got to visit friends or do anything more fun than read at the library(and boy did he read any chance that he got back then). His first real social outing was when Roman, his then longtime college roommate and current best friend, had playfully offered for him to come join him to go buy icecream at midnight. But, that story is better saved for a different time.

All you need to know is that, that midnight ice cream became a bi-weekly routine, and the other omega learned more about Logan than he thought he’d ever get out of the closed off nerd that night. Perhaps one could even go so far to say that Roman was the reason Logan ever even dared to go to a therapist in the first place.

Logan had become very stunted from the childhood neglect he’d endured. Omegas had many self-soothing mannerisms built into their primal instincts to comfort themselves when stressed, like purring when upset(was well as when happy or content!) and nesting to decompress or hide in a safe zone when stressed. And well, Logan had pretty much stifled his purring by the time he was 14, and.. Completely stopped nesting by the time he was 9.

There had been no point, and both had become increasingly dangerous to do as he grew older. Anytime his father caught him purring, the Alpha would berate him for being ungrateful, seeing it as a weakness. And no matter how well he’d try to hide his safety nests, his father would inevitably find them and destroy them. Far too many afternoons were ruined when he came home to find his father in a drunken stupor and his newest safe haven wrecked beyond repair, and stinking to high heaven of alcohol and aggressive, angry alpha pheromones.

So he gave up. He gave up trying to make the nests in hopes for comfort, in hopes for a safe haven to hide away. The longest he’d gotten was hiding away in his closet for periods of a time before his father decided it didn’t deserve a closeable door anymore.

Roman had been horrified, and promptly dragged the other omega into his own nest in distress. They spent hours like that, Logan sobbing and tucked up tenderly into Roman’s protective embrace as the omega purred and crooned comfortingly enough for the both of them.

It would be Roman to encourage Logan to begin nesting again. They’d made a whole day out of it, going out and buying brand new nesting materials along with comfort food and rented movies. Slowly but surely, Logan rebuilt his nest for the first time in a little over 10 years, and he was in heaven. And day by day, every time he came home to it intact and undisturbed, Logan’s psyche was assured just a little more that the nest was safe, that he was finally safe.

And no one could really be surprised that Logan became viscerally protective of his nest, even more so than the average omega, at that. The first time they realized this, one of their mutual friends, a beta named Patton, had suddenly come close to his nest in excitement over the new addition. Logan had snarled loudly and aggressively before he’d even processed moving to guard his nest from the approaching threat. When Patton had taken multiple careful steps back in shock, Logan finally snapped out of the defensive mindset and realized what had happened. He’d apologized profusely, and was quick to try and make amends.

Patton understood the justified reaction after some light explanation and waved off the apologies immediately. Logan, though mortified at his own surprising lapse in control, was grateful that there had at least been no hard feelings in the end.

Safe to say, their friend group and subsequently any new friends made in the future would be warned, “Don’t approach, or touch, Logan’s nest.” And it was fine. Things were even looking up, Logan had started truly healing, and trusting people started to become a little less difficult!

So it would really come as a surprise to everyone, let alone Logan himself, when he started developing a small crush on the kind and patient(if a little anxious) Alpha who nearly daily visited the library Lo worked at to study. It was an honest shock, but, perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world..?

Logan had never seriously considered dating another until Virgil came around, and the prospect of dating an alpha was frankly terrifying. But, Virgil was nice, he was caring and gentle with him, and yet unwaveringly respectful. He’d listen to Logan ramble about stars for hours and never interrupt him, only asking questions when Logan’s voice lulled or allowed him to speak. Virgil encouraged this, wanting Logan to open up and ramble and talk without fear of being shut down.

Roman had told Logan it was obvious Virgil was crushing hard on Logan, that they both had it bad for one another it seemed. Of course, nothing had to come of it if Logan didn’t want it to! But the thing was, he did. He did want something to come of it, if at the very least they could just remain friends.

It took a few more months, but Virgil eventually worked up enough confidence to ask Logan out, and the unwavering, almost immediate ‘Yes,’ had almost taken Virgil off guard. They wouldn’t share their first kiss for another few weeks, but neither of them minded.

Virgil slowly but surely was given the whole story, and expressed his own quiet outrage in the form of promising to never let that happen again, nor let Logan’s father near him again. It was a protective sentiment that almost scared Logan, but the protectiveness was born out of love and compassion, not selfishness and hate. So he let it slide, and contently tucked himself into Virgil’s warm embrace with a soft “thank you,” and the first very soft but very happy purr that he’d let out in years.

This alpha, he’d find him telling himself a year and a half into their relationship, this alpha was the one that would be allowed into his nest.

It didn’t bother Virgil personally, that he wasn’t allowed into his omega’s nest. No one was allowed near the nest except him, and even then he still got growled at plenty. He was completely aware that Logan had a deep instinctual fear of the destruction of his nest, sewn by the only parent he’d had growing up doing just that out of malice. Logan had made strides in his journey of healing though. The omega was confident in himself, and refused to be pushed aside or spoken over. Logan was highly independent, even during his heats, which made Virgil feel all the more love for him to be let into his omegas life.

Logan wasn’t dependent on him like society demanded he be, and Virgil didn’t mind in the slightest, because he knew Logan. He loved this omega and knew said omega loved him back. That was all that mattered to either of them.

It took another half a year before Logan finally tried breaking down some of his protective walls over his nest. He was tired, so tired of the separation. Having Virgil's scent heavily entwined with objects in his nest wasn’t enough anymore. At two years into their relationship, Logan’s instincts didn't feel the need to growl at Virgil for being near his nest anymore. He wanted Virgil in his nest, and that thought was jarring to realize.

And when he’d brought it up, Virgil had been quick to assure him that he didn’t have to force himself to let Virgil in, that Logan’s safe space was sacred and he never wanted Logan to feel pressured by anything to let him in.

Perhaps Logan kissed him soundly after that, and was reminded just how much he really loved Virgil. Virgil's insistence for Logan's comfort coming first only made him want to pull his alpha into his nest that much more.

But still, he agreed to take it slowly. Every day, Virgil would scoot a little closer to the edge of the nest, would hold Logan’s hand and stroke his hair, even sometimes daring to slowly lean over and kiss him with prior warning.

It took a full week to really prove to Virgil during their progress that they were ready to take this next step, that Logan truly and fully trusted Virgil and wanted him in his nest.

And when it finally happened, they’d made a little date out of the occasion, setting up snacks and candy, ordering take out and lining up a few documentaries to watch on Virgil’s laptop, getting into their nightclothes.

Virgil had been beyond nervous, and Logan understood why. They managed to soothe each other as everything fell into place, and Logan carefully walked Virgil step by step into his nest. With careful movements, they sat down and Virgil let himself be carefully arranged as he was leaned back into the nest. It took a second for Logan to finish tucking things against Virgil and pull a weighted comforter over them before he finally settled himself onto Virgil’s chest.

Despite their original nervousness towards the idea, everything felt right, now. Logan felt so unbelievably safe now that he was tucked into his alpha’s arms within the cocoon of his nest. It was amazing in its own right. And it takes Virgil chuckling lovingly for Logan to notice just how content they both are.

“You’re purring like crazy, L,” he murmurs with a smile, running his fingers up and down Logan’s rumbling back, “If you’re not careful you might fall asleep before we even get through the first documentary.” Logan just grins back, tilting his head to peck Virgil on the cheek.

“I see no downside to that, V, considering I’ll be falling asleep in my alpha’s safe embrace. What more could I ever want?”

Virgil flusters and hides his face in Logan’s hair as the omega laughs, hugging the other closer. Logan eventually does fall asleep in the middle of the second documentary, cuddled close and relaxed.

And really, there was no other place Logan would rather be.

[caffeinateddays]

does class 1-a sing in the shower (part three)

do shouji, jirou, sero, todoroki, and tokoyami sing in the shower bath?

part one - aoyama, ashido, asui, iida, uraraka

part two - ojiro, kaminari, kirishima, koda, sato

part three - you are here!

part four - hagakure, bakugou, midoriya, mineta, yaoyorozu

...

shouji mezo: no

is more concerned about getting clean

he

...actually wants to take a bath

i don’t blame him though

he has six arms

plus that webbing

that must be hard

has a rubber duck to keep him company

jirou kyoka: yes

you expect her to have a a+ singing voice...

...and not sing in the shower?

has a waterproof speaker

and a waterproof case for her phone

has a bathtime playlist

you get where i'm going

will not sing anything other than the songs on the playlist

the bathroom is her stage

sero hanta: no

cannot sing

he's tried

but his voice cracks

so...

no.

how does he take baths anyways

are the slits where the tape comes through on his arms closeable

i guess so

how else would he cut the tape

imagine sero with safety scissors

struggling to cut his tape

todoroki shoto: no

not a singer

hasn't even tried singing

or even wanted to

doesn't really like music

you know what he does?

just changes the temperature of the water

with his quirk

"it's cold."

*uses quirk*

"too hot."

*uses quirk*

he does that forever

tokoyami fumikage: no

he hums

while doing some skin care

but it's not a skin care routine

it's a feather care routine

hawks has a whole line of products

(has the cheesiest packaging)

tokoyami was so into it when it first came out

"hawks feather mask? those sound nice."

hides all of those products in a small basket

covers them with some band tees

nobody will know

[hitodama89]

I've had a quite an action-filled week, but in like... The most boring adult-way possible. I still wanna write about it because hey, I am a boring adult after all.

Most of my time has been spent working with my balcony. I've been cleaning it thoroughtly because despite having closeable windows it gathers a ton of this certain sort of nasty "city dust" in it (more on that later). The first incidence that stressed me to hell and back was when I was washing its floor and suddenly the neighbor who lives below me starts yelling that water is leaking to their balcony. I tried to ask several times where exactly was it coming from so I could actually do something about it, but instead of giving any sort of helpful answer they just kept mumbling about their annoyance as loud as I think is possible to mumble. After I had finished the cleaning I went to their door with a package of cookies in order to apologise, but they didn't even open the door. Finally I ended up just writing them an apology letter because there wasn't really anything else I could've done. Fortunately that whole ordeal hasn't escalated any further since that.

After that it was time to try to fix the issue of the city dust. The thing is my balcony hasn't always had windows, they were installed a few years ago when the whole house got some remodeling done. Buuut the windows weren't exactly a perfect fit: between their frame and the balcony's handrail is this weird ~5-10 cm gap that has let anything from bugs, snow, rain and that dang dust in. So after suffering from it for several years I, uh, took the matter into my own hands and filled the gap with this... Sprayable, hardening foam thing, god knows what it's actually called even in Finnish let alone in English. After hardening it resembles styrox quite a lot? It should keep the forces of nature out quite well but it can also be dug out in case the landlord for some reason hates it and wants it gone. (The apartment complex is owned by the city I live in, not by some individual person, and usually they don't really care what you do as long as it is reverseable. I highly doubt they will ever even notice it, especially as I'm not planning to move out from here in the foreseeable future. And if they do notice it and hate it, they'd either ask me to take it off and/or give me a fine of some sort, which, okay, I can live with that risk.)

So I spray the foam which is again scary and weird and stressful, but I get it done. And then I take the next day to tidy it up, scraping it off from surfaces it doesn't belong to. At this point I'm tired and exhausted more than in a good long while, but I'm far from being finished! So what the heck even is the point of all this: why am I doing it now exactly? Well, the first reason is that for the last week or so it has been abnormally warm in Finland, temperature rising to heights that normally belong to June. The second reason stems directly from that: it reminded me of how much I've wanted to spend more time in my balcony during summers, but I've just had really no comfortable furniture in it. And that reminded me of a purchase I already tried to make during last autumn, but I ran into SEVERAL online stores that claimed to have the product I was looking for in storage but when I had already paid for it, they sent me an email stating that they didn't actually have it for real and that they'd return my money.

Now that the season was more optimal, I decided to try again: I bought myself a sun sofa. I don't know if that's what it actually called in English because even in Finland stores sell it under various names, but basically it's this nest-like round sofa thing with a raisable canopy. It's meant to be kept outside so it should be perfectly fine to keep it in my balcony, especially now that the stupid gaps have been filled (which is the reason I did it). It costed A LOT of money, likely as much as the rest of my furniture combined, as the vast majority of them have been bought used or as the absolutely cheapest option available. But like... I've basically had a whole small room I have barely been using, so I figured turning it into actually comfortable space for me would be worth it.

Okay, so at this point I had cleaned up the balcony, fought with the neighbor, filled the gaps under the windows, tidied the filler foam and ordered the nest sofa. The sofa had already been sent but according to tracking it hadn't moved out of the capitol area yet, so I thought I'd have time to paint the foam to make it less noticeable before the sofa arrives. I was wrong - this morning a confused post delivery man called me that he can't find my house (I don't really know how because I heard the voice of a GPS on the background) so I went out to wave at him. He dumped the sofa out of his car, couldn't even bother to lift it into the staircase even thought it was raining outside, and left. And I was like okay let's do this, let's get this bad boy into the third floor where I live!

I couldn't fit it into the elevator. I tried, back and forth, for god knows how long. Finally my hands were so shaky and weak that I couldn't even lift the sofa anymore and I have literally no clue what I would've done if it wasn't for the fact that my parents live in the same city and I could scream for them to come and save me. (I don't exactly love doing that, but what else was I supposed to do?) So until they arrived I just sat there in my staircase, sweaty as a pig and faint from exhaustion, with a god damn sofa in the middle of it all. Finally they came and we managed to smash that problem child into the elevator and inside my apartment.

And then that fucking thing didn't fit through my balcony door. Oh believe me, I had measured everything meticulously and it should've fit through; I don't know if the packaging was different from the promised or what, but there was no way to get it in. But good thing I had plans B, C and even fucking D ready! They were, in that order:

Take apart this... Metallic rod thing that prevents the door from opening fully so it doesn't hit the wall behind it.

If that fails, take apart the hinges of the door and lift the whole door away.

If literally everything else fails, open the window that goes from my living room to balcony and lift the motherfucking sofa through the window.

At that point we couldn't even start from B because the door had some really fucking weird screwheads and I had no right sort of screwdriver for it. Thank the forces of the universe my father is the DIY man of all the DIY mans and has about every tool you can ever imagine, so we had to go get more tools from their place and try again. In the end plan B was enough and we didn't have to take apart half of the balcony, but we were both sweating bullets for the whole day even from imagining having to do it.

Now the sofa is in the balcony. The next time I have to move it from there is hopefully when the city remodels the whole house the next time, which will be in, idk, 30 years or something. At least I promised my (now 60 years old) father that at that point he doesn't have to come to move it anymore. ='D The ordeal is finally more or less over, unless the sofa was somehow damaged during all of this: I haven't yet taken it out of the wrappers because I want to keep it covered during the painting of the foam. (I did do some painting already after all this, so I should hopefully be able to strip it tomorrow and stash it to the already painted corner.)

Two bonus points that gave some extra spice to all of this: I also got my first Covid vaccine shot this week (I belong to one of the risk groups because of my health issues) so one of my arms was pretty hurt even before I had to start lifting the sofa around the apartment complex. Fortunately I the very least haven't had any other side effects*! And bonus point number two: that heat wave that hit Finland? It's gone by now. There is literal god damn snow on the ground again. =DDDDD

*(EDIT: NO WAIT, I just realized that I did likely get one other side effect! Please skip this if you feel icky about health subjects, but I do want to mention it in case it could be helpful for someone else. I thought it was just because of intense stress and quite a bit of exercise, but my body has produced some period blood even though it isn't a proper time for it. My body doesn't generally do that because of my hormonal medication, but these days getting weird new health-related symptoms mostly just makes me shrug and continue my life. BUT now I remembered reading that the vaccine has been affecting people's periods by making them more voluminous, so that's actually likely what's causing it??? That's interesting.)

[irradiatedsnakes]

theterrifyingrenegadeteenager: My dad and I found this bird spine (at least, that’s what we think it is) at Thornton Beach Vista a day or so ago. Any chance you could tell me what bird/animal it comes from, what if anything I should do to maintain it, etc.?

so, as for identification, i’m afraid to say i’ve got no clue. i’m really only good at id’ing skulls, most bones beyond that aren’t my area of expertise. if you’d like to send some more close-up pictures though, especially of that end on the left, i can certainly try my best at the very least getting you a general id. anybody seeing this post is also welcome to provide their own input there.

secondly, if it is a bird, since you’re in the us (unless there’s a different thornton beach google isnt telling me about) it’s almost certainly a species protected by the migratory bird treaty act, making it illegal to own. here’s more info on that.

as for maintenance, that kinda depends on what you’d like it to be. if you think it looks good as is, then you don’t need to do anything. it looks sufficiently dried out, so if you put it on a shelf in a cool, dry place it’ll almost certainly be fine for a very long time.

if you want the bones nice and white and clean though, you’re gonna have to do some more work. it looks like there’s a good amount of leftover soft tissue on it, enough that i think maceration is going to be your best bet. for that, submerge the specimen in a shallow amount of water in a tupperware container or similar closeable container, and set it (outside, unless it seals VERY well, maceration tubs stink (though, this one shouldn’t much, since there’s so little tissue to rot away)) in an area where it will get warm. this facilitates decomposer bacteria to do their thing, and cleans bones just perfectly, it’s how i clean all of mine.

after a few weeks in there (or however long it takes for the tissue to become removable, its very case-by-case), take the spine out, rinse it off, and submerge it in some 3% hydrogen peroxide (the regular sort you get at any grocery or drugstore for like a buck a bottle, though note that ive been having trouble finding much lately, due to covid-related panic buying (please note i could find NO studies showing regular, 3% h2o2 as having any covid-related benefits..)) for about a week. should be completely white at that point! if not, determine if you need to put it in peroxide for a bit longer or should try degreasing it. but it should be fine by then.

note that this cleaning process will disarticulate the spine- with no soft tissue to hold it in place, the vertebrae will likely fall apart from one another, requiring you to puzzle out which go where if you’d like to reassemble them.

[slashthedice]

Short story from Billy Loomis' perspective about wanting to get it on with his s/o? Hehe 💖

Of course, bby! Sorry I messed up my posting order again, loves :( but please enjoy some quick horny and possessive Billy Loomis. Somebody’s jealous~~ NSFW below!

Billy knew that he shouldn’t have brought you to this party. When you walked out of your house in your tight little jeans and that top you know drives him wild, he should have just turned you around, walked you back inside the house, and fucked you senseless. That would have been perfect, but instead he had stayed in his car, let you get in, and driven to this stupid party like a dumbass.

You were across the room, drink in hand and laughing at what was undoubtedly a lame attempt at a joke from the guy talking to you. His hand tightened around his beer as he watched the idiot lean in towards you, acting like he couldn’t hear what you had said. If he was smart, he’d keep his hands to himself, or else Billy would have to cut them off. Intermingling with the simmering jealousy that had settled like a stone in his stomach was a fire that burned through him whenever he thought of you.

He could picture you on your back, splayed out before him like a feast on a table and he was ravenous. He thought of the way your legs would tremble when he spread them slowly and traced a line up the back of your thigh with his tongue. The litany of “please” and “more” and “don’t stop” would flow like wine that was too expensive and refined for him to buy. He would pull you down to meet him, caging you in with his arms and body so that he could watch all the wonderful faces you would make as he rolled his hips into you.

He could feel your warm, wet heat gripping his cock, along with the sting of your nails raking down his back and arms. You always left marks, but he wore them proudly. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t leave you with bites and bruises of your own. He loved to place hickeys in areas that would be hard for you to hide the next day.

He should have done just that. He wished that he had marked you last night, wished that you had the blatant love bites on your neck marking you as his. He wanted everyone to know that you were spoken for.

That gave him an idea.

Billy shoved his drink into the hands of the nearest passerby and marched over to you. He spun you around and kissed you hard before you even had time to be confused. He pulled away only when you were sufficiently breathless, then took you by the hand and began to lead you to the nearest closeable door. He didn’t care if it was a bedroom, bathroom or even a closet, he wasn’t going to let you leave until you were a needy mess covered in the evidence that you were his.

[headoverjojo]

Team Bucciarati Shenanigans

Happy Birthday!  I didn’t finish this but I thought you’d still like it! 

(Tri’s comment here: Tumblr finally was a GOOD BOY and here it is!! What can I say, I loved iiittt :,D It’s hilarious as usual!! I’m not gonna say more here, as to avoid possible spoilers, but just know that it’s AMAZING :,D)

—

“That’s 6 cans of deep ocean blue, 3 cans of summer sky, 12 cans of -” “How many different shades of blue are there, Fugo?” Narancia mumbled, tapping the side of a paint can with his foot, “I only know blue.” “And Dark blue,” Mista added, “Dark blue is a shade of blue.” “What about Chartreuse?” “Chartreuse is red-” “No it isn’t !” “First of all, Chartreuse is a mix of yellow and green,” Fugo groaned, not happy to be entertaining Mista and Narancia’s conversation. “So you’re both wrong-” “What are you guys arguing about over here?” The Ex cop started, coming over holding a spiral notebook. He never took his eyes off it. Mista was more than happy to fill Abbacchio in. “Shades of blue.” “Oh. LIke Seafoam?” “Seafoam is also green!” Fugo snapping alerted Giorno and Bucciarati. They stopped examining the outside of the house for a moment to check what was going on. “Do you guys not know your colors?!” “What’s happening? Is everything alright, Fugo?” “Bucciarati, Name a shade of blue.” “…Um.. Sapphire.” “THAT is blue!” Fugo yelled. “Thank you. Giorno. Now you.” “Sea foam-” “That’s what I said-” “SEA FOAM IS GREEN!” “THEN EXPLAIN WHY IT HAS THE WORD SEA IN IT!” Narancia defended. Bucciarati just sighed, snapping his fingers for everyone’s attention. “We don’t have time for this. Vincenzo was very nice when he asked for help painting his mother’s house. If we work together it should only take a few hours.” A slew of ‘Yes, sir’s followed and one by one they all picked up paint cans and headed inside, much to the dismay of Fugo who was still counting them but at least they weren’t talking about blue anymore. —-

Abbacchio had written down what color all the rooms were supposed to be and was filling everyone in as they entered the house. Not even 2 steps into the foyer the slap of steps on the hard wood floors got their attention. She looked up to all 6 of them, shaking her fluffy white tail at the familiar faces. They remembered her as well. “MIMSY!” Naracia shouted, “It’s been forever!” “I quit.” Abbacchio said flatly, slapping his notebook onto Mista’s chest. “I can’t do this again-” “You aren’t going anywhere except to paint the salon,” Bruno started, grabbing Leone’s shoulder “She shouldn’t get in our way. Just try and ignore her.” “It’s staring at me…” Fugo whispered, trying to move out of the ducks line of sight. Her gaze simply followed him and she was waddling closer a little bit. “…. I’ll paint a room with a closeable door-” “That won’t keep her out.” Giorno mumbled, pointing to a nearby door. The team looked and held their breath, “It appears they have doggy doors for her… so that she can go where ever she wants..” “Let’s just try our best.” Mista grinned, “How much trouble could she be? She’s a foot long.” —

Giorno was meticulous rolling the paint along the bedroom wall. He didn’t want to miss a spot or be too heavy in one area. He REALLY didn’t want to damage the pure white carpet. He put down a ridiculous amount of drop cloths, terrified that he would make an irreparable spot on the immaculate carpet. He cursed himself for picking this room. His thoughts were broken by the flapping sound of the doggy door and the teen froze. He held his breath, afraid to turn around. “…. Hello Mimsy.” He received and little 'quack’ in response. “…I’m very busy.” Nothing. He just sighed, returning to his work and trying his best not to worry. MImsy was curious. She stared at the open paint bucket, enthralled by the deep blue color. She sniffed it before hopping on top and sitting in the paint bucket. Giorno didn’t notice, continuing his work as she kicked ker feet inside the blue paint. The duck was there until Giorno dropped his roller, startling her badly. She hopped out, slapping out of the room, leaving deep blue footprints in her wake. Giorno still didn’t notice, just thankful he had all these drop cloths to protect the pristine carpet from his roller. – Abbacchio finished the children’s room fast, wiping the sweat from his brown and admiring the light blue walls. As he did so he noticed a faint slapping sound. The ex-cop raised a brow, walking into the hallway and stopping dead in his tracks. The hardwood hallways were covered in dark blue flipper prints, zig zagging all over the place. Mimsy was still in the middle of the hall, stomping about and admiring her blue trail. Leone said absolutely nothing. The duck finally noticed him, cocking it’s head to the side when she noticed him standing there. As they had a staredown, Fugo made it to the top of the stairs and into the hallway, holding a paint can. He looked over and then proceeded to give Mista more paint but suddenly stopped when he realized what he just saw. Mimsy just ignored him. “..I…I-” “Fugo…” Leone began with a whisper, “Slowly… put that down…and pick her up so she’s not on the floor-” “What if she runs?” “Just… get her off the floor.” “Alright…” Fugo took in a deep breath, putting the paint bucket down. The moment he did, Mista opened the room door to his left and yelled for him, not knowing he was right there. “HEY FUGO, WHERE’S MORE OF THAT ROYAL BLUE!” Mimsy let out a distressed quack, jumping up with a flap of her wings and running through Fugo’s legs and down the stairs. Little footprints trailed behind her and Leone made the executive decision to go back in the room he was working on and just close the door and pretend to not be involved. —-

Bucciarati took a step back and Narancia couldn’t help but give a cheesy grin as they admired the mural they put on the living room wall. The depiction of the sea matched perfectly and it took Narancia a bit of time to get the sturgeons just right. Bucciarati painted the seagulls flying high above it all. “It’s amazing. We make a good team!” “It’s beautiful… Might have you come over so we can do one of the walls at my house.” “Sure!” A familiar quack from behind them only made them smile wider… that is until they turned around to greet her. Mimsy was still trailing paint, now sitting on the couch and badly staining it with her butt. Bruno’s jaw just fell open as his eyes followed the trail she left. Narancia walked over and picked her up, hugging her to him and not minding getting paint on himself. “Looks like you picked up some color somewhere.” Bucciarati just shook his head, unable to think of any appropriate words. “Who had this deep blue?” “I… don’t remember.” Bruno admitted, “We bought almost 30 cans of paint.” “I bet Mista let her get into it.” As they discussed it, Fugo came downstairs, following the trail. He was relieved to see the duck in Narancia’s arms. Bruno took note and gave a disappointed look to the teen. “Fugo, please tell me-” “No-No! It wasn’t me! I believe she came from Abbacchio’s room!” “I’ll be right back,” Their boss sighed, putting a hand on his forehead, “I’m going to follow her trail to the start. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

—

“I’m so sorry,” Giorno started, “I didn’t notice that she left. I thought she was still in here.” “It’s fine,” Bruno conceded, mostly just uncomfortable with scolding his boss. “It… I’m sure we can clean it up. It will only take-” A scream from downstairs cut him off and Giorno and Bruno ran out of the room. Mista and Abbacchio peeked out of their rooms and seeing the urgency they ran downstairs as well. When they all entered the kitchen, Narancia had both of his hands on his head and Fugo was on the floor in disbelief. Mimsy was on the kitchen table, ripping at a house plant. Bucciarati approached her only for her to honk at him angrily and bite his fingers as he tried to pet her. She tried to run out of the door but Abbacchio was fast, picking her up by her neck and dangling her in front of him. “Not so fast you little shit.” “Be careful with her!” Narancia begged, “She didn’t mean it!” “We have to restrain this thing. What do we do?” “I have an idea!” Mista piped up, “I found this cool thing in the closet upstairs.”

—

“Done.” Giorno breathed, relieved to get the heavy paint off of the sofa. To his left, Bucciarati was cleaning some paint off of the wall and had the duck on his stomach in a baby harness. She kicked her feet happily and looked around with excitement. “How are you holding up, Mother Goose?” “Managing,” He replied, happy enough,“ She’s much calmer now.” “She looks like it. We might actually clean up all this mess before they get home.” Bruno just nodded, trying to get a particularly tough glob off the wall. Mimsy kept trying to peck at his busy hand and after being swatted away a few times she nipped then man’s chin instead. Watching the struggle, Giorno had stopped working for a moment and wished so badly he had a camera.

[greendragonette]

Mischief (Kili fic)

Again for the lovely @princess-of-erebor1992 :)

Warnings: Durins. Rude old farts. That about sums it up.

Word count: 1359

______

Retaking Erebor changed numerous things in Kili’s life. Burdens of responsibility made him more serious, thoughtful and far-sighted. His input oft proved invaluable, especially when the case demanded unconventional solutions.

Marriage, on the other hand, provided an outlet to his mischievous ways. While on the outside he could pretend to be a worthy third to the throne, the joyful, free-spirited soul of the young dwarf remained the same. When the necessity of securing the line of Durin came out again and pressures reached him too, he followed his heart; and despite the initial disapproval of his uncle and king, chosen a spouse as unusual as could be.

His soulmate couldn’t be considered a beauty by traditional dwarven standards, where a sturdiness of a slab of granite and might of a landslide were promoted, lithe as an elf and damageable as a man, but Kili usually didn’t mind. If they judged her worth only by fragility of her body it was their loss and own business, unless derogatory comments made an appearance. Those fools experienced first-hand where his battle-name Firestorm came from.

Making her happy was his personal mission. Usually a smile was coaxed by conventional things; a thoughtful gift, a kiss, a joke, a flirty song. Sometimes, though, he aimed to combine both his love for her and thirst for trouble by pranks. Doesn’t matter – small and simple or big and elaborate, if it was fun and brought her amusement, it was worth every single consequence put upon him by his furious uncle or exasperated mother.

He had his rules about it, though. While no-one was off limits, even his wife, he put much thought to placement, and safety (if not lack of humiliation) of people involved; especially if she might be caught in his scheming.

“My sweet, shall we?” he offered his arm to his princess.

Strolling through the Gardens with the love of his life was one of greatest pleasures of the young prince. It meant that for at least a few hours he was free from arduous duties put upon him as a member of a royal family, Balin had better things to do than teaching him law, history or etiquette (he knew it all, just sometimes opted to ignore it) and his lady felt well enough to walk with him for a mile or two under the sun. Those were ones of the best days.

Now the Gardens themselves were a sight to behold; founded by his great grandfather, placed in a secure cavern, with a ceiling of sturdy glass, closeable vents for a proper air flow and brilliant automatic watering system, were a testimony to the craftsdwarfship of engineers of old. It even had a small terrace outside with chairs for sunbathing, so his Little Flower could catch some tan necessary for men’s health if the weather was favorable.

The place was heavily underappreciated. While it was full of the greenery an average dwarf had little care for, on the highest levels and accessible mainly by nobles or royal servants, it was also an important source of food, what with various edible plants growing among decorative ones. He could be biased, but he even took a slight interest in a few of the weeds, especially the ones she liked, and he was ready to admit the pineapple incident was one of the most enjoyable adventures he had in a long time.

Still, most of the time they were alone here, barring someone looking for them or an occasional busy gardener.

It was a bit of a shock then, when they’ve heard a startled shout nearby and a following cursing. Kili subconsciously placed his Sunbeam behind him, hand on the hilt of his sword. Assassination attempts were rare, unlike amongst men, but it was still wise to be cautious. After a moment, when it became obvious the shouting dwarf had an animosity towards something else, he relaxed and made his way towards the sounds.

An elderly dwarf had been caught in a net that pinned him to one of palm trees; what’s more, a pig’s bladder full of an ochre apparently exploded on him, covering the immediate area, and him head-to-toe, in reddish paint. It was an hilarious sight; the prince bravely suppressed his smirk, briefly pondering the merits of the idea for later use.

“Prince Kili! I should know it was your deed! I assure you the King will hear about this stunt!” roared the irked victim while trying to pull their ensnared beard form the net.

Young dwarf was confused and a mite offended. It most definitely wasn’t his doing; he spent the whole glorious afternoon basking in the presence of his lady and therefore had no thought nor will for such things, least of all in their romantic refuge.

“I assure you, Master Khogi, that your anger is misplaced; I took no part in this.” He answered coldly, applying a blade to ropes.

The five minutes necessary to free the old rot and get rid of him was wearing on Kili; you wouldn’t guess with vocabulary like that he would be sent by Dain to negotiate anything, especially not trade of heady, perfectly-stored ancient elvish wine no one was quick to part with. He almost gutted the wretch when he offended his beautiful wife, and only her quick reaction saved the miserable life of a son of an orc, diplomatic incidents be damned!

Boiling with righteous rage, he washed his dirtied hands in one of streams and let her sooth him with words and caresses. She worked wonders on him; kissed silly, he entirely forgot the envoy and turned his thoughts to more enjoyable things.

Thorough distraction made him overlook the snare, so when suddenly he was pulled up by his foot he let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp and let go of princess’ waist. Next came glue and feathers; now he was the one cursing, though it took him only a moment to pull a knife from his boot and cut the rope; he landed on the ground with a heavy ‘oof’.

“Kili, are you alright?”

“Yeah, love, I am. I may need a bath, though” he grumbled, frowning at the state of his favorite clothes and sticky skin, half-heartedly trying to remove the quickly hardening glue, succeeding only at plucking a few feathers.

“Kili! What in the name of Mahal did you get yourself into again?!” boomed the voice of Thorin. The dwarf in question stormed to them, a matching thunder on his face.

“What does it look like, uncle?” grunted the prince tiredly. “We may need to put a sign at the entrance, it’s the second trap in ten minutes.”

“Go prepare a bath, handsome, I’ll be right behind you.” A small smooch from his soulmate sent him on his way with only mild grumbling.

______

“Care to explain, Thorin?” she turned to the king, whose face gave nothing away.

“Why do you think I had something to do with this?” he frowned.

“I was suspecting that from the moment Kili named the other dwarf ‘Khogi’. You complained he was giving you headaches recently, also by ambushing you and your advisors in the most inopportune moments. Overhearing you telling someone the Gardens are your favorite relaxing place when the Training Pit usually held the title is another hint.” But your voice and too impassive face – the most obvious ones, she didn’t say. “Last but not least, you Durins always have the overwhelming urge to see your mischief through, so you tend to stick around.”

The king beamed unashamedly. “Guilty as charged.” He admitted lightly, offering his arm with a half-bow. “Old lunatic was driving me mad; it feels good to return the favor. Catching a brat of my nephew in the process was a nice bonus.” A boyish grin made him look half his age; it also proved a point how the looks ran in the family.

“Now that your plan have been accomplished, please remove the rest of traps before someone else falls victim to them.” She said sternly.

“As you wish, Sunbeam; I’d ask one thing of you, though.”

“Which is?”

Thorin smiled wider. “Not a word to Kili.”

[wulfiesessentials]

Yoga

Meditation

Socks

Revised

Ya Ya Ya there just yoga sock right?!?!?!  NOPE…

I’ve been attempting yoga socks off and on for over a year now. I’ve tried every pattern I could find out there plus tried a few of my own. None of them worked.

By that I mean I have such large feet ( 9-10 depending on shoe brand) plus my feet are alittle chunky, Patterns I found would go over one part of my foot but not the other or be entirely too big. It was also hard to gauge if it was going to fit the person I was originally going to make them for. Being frustrated I just forgot the whole thing and moved on.

When I ordered some new yarn from Hemptique, I immediately thought to myself I want to try yoga socks with this. After my first attempt… I was frustrated again. I was ranting and raving to my self for a good 10 mins… yes, I talk to myself, I was told highly intelligent people do that hahaha. Anyways It just popped up in my head!!! BUTTONS!!!!! Why don’t I design the top portion of the sock to be open/closeable with buttons!!! 

Soooo here ya go. A easy, very customizable yoga/ meditation sock. Not only do you not have to worry about how much “room” to leave for the heal, you can actually make the foot part more snug and wider and the above part ankle fit perfectly.

THIS PATTERN IS FOR A SIZE 7-8 foot, Ankle measures 8 1/2 inches, just behind ball of foot is 8 inches and top of foot from ball to ankle is 3 inches.

The Original Pattern for size 9 -10 Can be found HERE

  What you will need……

1 ball of your color choice of Lion Brand ZZ Twist 

5mm Hook,  4 small and thin buttons, scissors, tapestry needle & thread to sew buttons

Stitches used..

SC = Single Crochet

DC = Double Crochet

HDC = Half Double Crochet

SS = Slip Stitch

SKP Stch = Skip Stitch

DC2TOG = Decrease next 2 stitches

NOTES…

*   * = Repeat steps between Asterisks. 

This Pattern is for a LEFT foot and RIGHT foot. There is a Slight modification of Row 10 in order to keep buttons on outside of ankle( For Right Foot).  It is Recommended to start with left foot first … Which is how this pattern was written.

Pattern…               

MAKE 2 ( this pattern starts with left foot)  Its starts with ankle and works down the foot.

Chain 38

Row 1.)  HDC  In 2nd Chain from hook… Continue to HDC across.. Chain 7 (OR as many needed to fit button thru loop made) 

Row 2.) DC,SC in first stitch,Skp Stch… *DC, SC, Skp Stch* across ( 19 DC,SC’s aka Clusters)

Row 3.) Chain 1.. DC 1st stitch, Skp Stch.. *DC,SC,Skp Stch* repeat 17 more times.. DC last stitch

Rows 4, 5, 6.) Repeat Row 3

Row 7.) Repeat row 3 then chain 7 ( or as many as you did previously for button hole)

Row 8.) DC the chain7 into first stitch… Then Repeat row 3

Row 9.) Repeat row 3

44 Stitches across

What your piece should look like

FOOT COVER PART…

*** When Doing the right foot**

Before starting Row 11 You need to do the following…

Row 10.) Ch.1, SC 21 times, DC, *Skp Stitch, DC-SC* repeat * to * across… Now Start Row 11

      Row 10.) Chain 1..DC first stitch..Skp Stch..*DC,SC,Skp Stch* repeat for a total of 8 DC,SC clusters

Row 11.) Chain 1.. DC first, Skp Stch..*DC,SC,Skp Stch* for total 7 DC,SC… DC in Last Stitch.

Row 12 & 13.) Repeat row 11

Row 14.) No Chain 1.. Skp first Stch.. DC next, Skp Stch.. *DC,SC,Skp Stch* til last 2 stitches..Sk then DC in last 

Row 15.) No Chain 1.. Skp first Stch.. DC next, Skp Stch.. *DC,SC,Skp Stch* til last 2 stitches..Sk then DC in last 

Row 16.) Chain 1.. DC first, Skp Stch..*DC,SC,SKp Stch* Across,  DC Last stitch

Starting Arch Cover — Make sure your project is facing the correct way….For Left Sock, Foot cover should be on left side as you look at your sock…. For Right Sock, Foot cover on the right side.

Row 17.) Chain 1.. HDC first and every stitch across ( 12 HDC’s) Now Chain 23.. making sure not to twist your chain… SS into First DC on row 16.

Row 18.) Chain1..HDC into same stitch as SS… HDC around… Making sure to HDC in every chain made

This is what your sock should look like

Row 19 – 25.) HDC around

Row 26.) SC around and SS/ Tie Off

Now you can either leave as is or do a SC around the Foot cover and ankle piece.

            **** You are free to Sell what you make from my pattern. You MAY NOT Alter, Modify, Copy or Sell my pattern. You may NOT use my Photos without consent and Please Link to my site for Pattern if you are selling items made from it.*****Show Respect, Give Credit where credit it due 😉

Yoga/Meditation Sock Revised (2019) Yoga Meditation Socks Revised Ya Ya Ya there just yoga sock right?!?!?!  NOPE... I've been attempting yoga socks off and on for over a year now.

[manggaetteokkie]

Everytime AO3 asks for donations, I end up seeing posts upon posts upon posts (on tumblr and twitter, there’s literally no escape) of dumb people complaining about the donations and people painstakingly explaining to these toddlers why AO3 needs the money and where it’s going.

It’s literally just a closeable notification that doesn’t hinder you in any shape or form, asking for some money because AO3 needs money to run if they don’t want to resort to ads. Not to mention the money also goes to pay the legal team that is ready to defend you, the writer, in the case of a lawsuit.

You’d think people would know by know but nope.

Same old.

[silv3rclouds-with-graylining]

Frost, heart, tea 💕

Frost- anything you're looking forward to? - OOF, that's a solid question. Next time I'm able to just lay around with a friend. Just laughing together, talking about life, listening to music, enjoying each other's company.

Hearth - ideal home? - Mostly hardwood with minor carpeting. Open concept. I need a kitchen with 1) a lot of space, 2) an wide island in the middle of the room, 3) silent drawers/cabinets, 4) 5-6 burners, and 5) dual sinks. Big windows but closeable shades/blinds.

Tea - what's something that soothes you? - Going for a nice long drive with the windows down and music blasting.

Cheers for this ask, Anon 😊💙