#some squares aren't perfect squares

[cheadarchesse]

Eyeball cardigan update!

Spent two hours sewing squares together and so far I'm happy with my results. The two right panels will be the front of the cardigan and the leftmost one will be a sleeve.

I still have the back and one sleeve to stitch together (probably tomorrow night). Then sewing the panels into clothing-shaped pieces and adding trim. And the worst task: weaving in ends.

I realized this will get done in time for Spooky Season, which was an accident I'm really happy with

[norrisleclercf1]

Just tought abt somno with streetracer!lando since reader eventually falls asleep waiting for him to cone to her and when he does come he just needs to feel her 🫠

A/N: Honestly Somno is one of my secret little kinks that just ugh is perfect for me. But I decided to add cockwarming because that's another one for me. Also this is consensual, if you don't like this please scroll past don't want to make anyone uncomfortable

It was one of those rare nights you didn't join Lando and the boys at the night track. You had a huge paper due the next day and needed to stay and work on it.

Lando had last texted you at 10:30, telling you he had arrived and that he loved you. You kept checking your phone once in a while, making sure you didn't miss a text or something.

Looking at the clock, you read over your paper one more time seeing how it was, and happy with your work you close it down. Stretching up you whine and pad out of Lando's room, into the shared livingroom.

"Still awake?" You gasp, jumping 5 feet in the air turning to see a dishelved Charles, the honorary Mother Hen. "Jesus, Charles." You hold your chest as the older male chuckles. "Sorry, didn't know you were still up. Figured you'd be passed out by now." He looks you up and down taking in you wearing Lando's shirt.

"Sorry," Feeling undressed in front of him but he waves you off. "Don't care, you're like a sister." He snorts kissing your cheek and walking off to the kitchen. "The bathroom is free for you," He calls and then the sound of his feet heading upstairs has you smiling.

Charles was always sweet on you, and bickering with the boys and fussing over them, especially Charles. Heading into the bathroom you groan seeing the state you were in. Cleaning up and brushing your teeth you feel the sleep start to drag you down.

Going back into his bedroom you let the purple LED lights calm you down as you lay in his black sheets. Closing your eyes, you get the bright idea to send Lando a picture.

-----------------------------------

Lando groans, as he watches Max square off with some dick from another crew when his phone beeps. Taking it out, he makes sure Carlos was keeping an eye out and looks down. Smiling seeing your name of his phone he about drops it when he sees what you sent him.

On his phone, was you on his bed wearing his shirt and the slight peak of your black underwear. Fuck, he wished he was home already instead of here. "Max, hurry up." Lando snaps, which has Carlos and Max look over. "Max, clean it up." Carlos adds, knowing the look on Lando's face and the way he was holding his phone.

"Guessing, she sent you a good night text?" Carlos teases, which has Lando narrow his eyes. "Maybe," He grumbles which has Carlos chuckle. "Go on home, we can handle this." Carlos claps him on the back which Lando is thankful for.

"Thanks man, owe you one." Lando jogs over to his Mclaren and climbs in, wasting no time to fire it up and head off into the dark.

--------------

He knew there was no way you were awake. It's a good 1 drive home that Lando cut down to 35 minutes. Pulling up, Lando groans seeing Charles on the porch with a blanket and glass of wine. Jesus he is the mom friend.

"Hey, aren't you cold?" Lando asks, Charles looking up with some hopeful expression but then drops slightly. "Hm? Oh, no. I've got wine." He jokes, trying to make himself seem in a good mood. "Charles," Looking down at his friend he smiles and pats his head like the others like to do with him.

"He'll be home soon," Charles nods as Lando opens the front door, the sound of soft music playing has him smile. Walking further down the hall he pushes open his door and this warmth calmness washes over him seeing you in his bed safe and comfortable.

Tugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes he moves around his room. Heading to the bathroom he decides to take a shower. Coming back his curls bouncing he slides into the bed right behind you. Yet, he still feels restless and removes his shirt and sighs feeling your skin touching his.

Lying still he groans, when the restlessness inside him doesn't go away. Sighing he remembers the conversation you had a while back and kisses your shoulder. Fingers move down and pull your underwear gently. He didn't want to get off, just wanted to be close to as possible.

Removing his own he situates himself and then slides in slowly and sighs, feeling that feeling in his chest leave. "I love you, baby." He whispers kissing your cheek before resting down.

His arms wraps around you and pull you closer and falls asleep under the sound of soft music, and the dim purple lights.

[gojos-espresso]

Him reacting to you wearing your sexy crochet lingerie you made-

Pt-1

A/N: Just made this sexy crochet bra top and now I can't it of my brain on how my favs will react to it.

Warnings: slightly suggestive

Kaveh/Alhaitham/kaeya/childe x nb!AFAB! reader

His eyes didn't leave your hands as you twisted and pulled through the threads of your new "project". You often made cute plushies or sweaters for him and yourself but this was a little different. You won't tell him what it was you were making which caused his curiosity even more. He tried peeking into your phone as you worked or tried his best to figure it out, but you just won't budge. Here you are standing in front of him, eyes wide in shock, as a small trail of blood ran down his nose.

Inspiration

KAVEH

He just couldn't believe his eyes, Standing awkwardly at the entrance, mouth agape. So this was what you had been working on all along? A pink lacy baby doll with matching panties. Shyly walking towards him you slightly twirled showing off the airy material and your sexy figure. "You made this!?" He squealed as he reached out to you, holding onto you firmly. He adored your creativity, and all the gifts you gave him were cherished by him. But seeing you use your talents to such an extent, just for him made him so hard. Pining you to the wall, he slid to his knees as he slowly kissed up your thighs, kneading your ass. He softly kissed you over your panties before making eye contact with you. His red eyes were darker than before.

"What did I do to deserve you? My reward for your hard work will be rich and sweet. Come on open up your legs more"

ALHAITHAM

The only time he would put his book down in the first go is when you are the one calling him. Sighing he looks up to see you shyly walking up to him. The green of the garment caught his eyes quickly. On closer inspection, he realized it was the yarn you begged him to buy just last week. "What do you think?" You inquire whilst adjusting your top which became a little too see-through. Keeping the book down he reaches out to you pulling you onto his lap. "It's perfect" he replies whilst pulling onto the strings of your top, inspecting every detail as his hand slid down your body and resting on your thighs.

"What other ways are you going to use to pull me into you? Well, you aren't going anywhere" tomorrow."

CHILDE

The Shneznayan cold made you pick up crochet. Sitting with the village grannies and making sweaters and plushies for the kids was your biggest source of happiness other than that one ginger-haired sweetheart. He loved your creations. Your sweaters were an instant hit with the townspeople but also with your lover. Hearing the clinking of keys you ran out of the room covering yourself in a blanket. The harbinger oh so ever tired made himself known in the house grumbling about how tiring it was. "Like seriously why does- NAME!" He cut himself off before shrieking out. A hand now covering his agape mouth as you twirled in the red piece you made." I had some scrap yarn left from your sweater so-Hey!!" He threw you over his shoulder and made way for the bedroom.

"Sweetheart you ain't leaving the house for the next two days"

KAEYA

He hadn't been home for a week, the trip to Sumeru was exhausting, the heat getting him. The sun had already set in Mondstadt, the purple hues scattered in the sky. Groggily he climbs the stairs of his apartment, a wine bottle in hand to enjoy with you. "I'm home!" He calls out as he enters the house. The living room was a mess scattered with yarn everywhere. He chuckled being reminded of your love for crochet. Dropping his bags he walks towards the bedroom hoping you are asleep, instead, he is greeted by the sight of you wearing a lacy baby doll in baby blue, the same color as the yarn scattered around and checking yourself out in the mirror. Walking swiftly he hugs you from behind causing you to yelp. " Darling when did you mmph-" He kissed you square on the lips as his hands opened the strings of your top.

"How do you become more and more irresistible every time I'm away? I believe my thirst for you will never be satiated."

[hanasnx]

hip to be square.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.

“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.

Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.

You're engaged to him.

In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.

Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."

Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about ex-husband keegan p russ. 

thinkin about how there's no way he doesn't show up at your front door within hours of the first ODIN attacks. 

keegan fucking russ standing at your door at three in the morning without so much as a cursory greeting. makes you pack a suitcase with whatever bare essentials you can't live without. there's a lot of arguing involved but not a lot of conversation, as usual. you talk, sure, and he listens, nods, and then looks at his watch and says you need to move your ass or he's gonna move it for you. 

next thing you know, you're in his passenger seat and he's driving you to his military base six hours away.

he doesn't bother to explain anything, but he does bother to ask you what happened to that fiance of yours.

you give him a heated look, one that says you're ready to square up. defensive, aren't you. that tells him what he wants to know and he scoffs, adjusting his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. good riddance.

you're one of the few civilians on base. you try to be civil with keegan, but falling into old habits is too fucking easy. you and keegan married young--it was a boot camp wedding for the benefits--and the marriage itself wasn't good. well--parts of it, certain parts, were good. really good. 

none of it was healthy, mind you. just this cycle of arguing all day and then settling the argument in bed all night. sometimes well into the next day. you couldn't go twelve hours without picking a fight, and he couldn't let it go. not without putting you on your back and railing you until you forgot whatever the hell you were mad about.

something about keegan just makes you aggressive. just makes you want to bare your teeth and go for his throat. something about how impassive he is, how hard he is to rattle, makes you want to push him until he reacts.

you're in the perfect situation to piss him off on base by sleeping with some other dude. 

or at least that's what you think. 

keegan makes sure the other soldiers know you are one hundred percent off-limits. keegan's ex-wife? yeah, none of the other soldiers are gonna touch that with a ten-foot pole. 

one or two joke around about how dumb he was to let a bombshell like you divorce his ass, but keegan shuts it down real fucking quick.

then he starts showing up at your door just to give you the chance to pick a stupid fight. 

he finds himself pushing you farther and farther, finds himself craving that satisfaction he gets when you turn that heated look of pure loathing on him. he wants you to throw your barbs his way. not just the lighthearted teasing you toss out to his teammates--he wants you to lash out at him. give him everything you've got. make it hurt.

if you're glaring at him, belittling him, insulting him, you're not out there flirting with someone else. your attention is his.

he always seems to show up at your door when you're moody and listless. pent up with tension. your method of dealing with it involves this, mm, push and pull he enjoys. sometimes his squadmates send him to your door when they catch attitude from you.

"heard you got on everyone's nerves today," he tells you. "you gonna be a handful?"

you swing the door closed, wanting it to slam in his face, but you find it bangs into his boot instead. he bullies him way inside easily and shuts the door behind him.you skip past asking him what he wants and instead tell him to fuck off. straight to business. he's always liked that about you.

"keep talkin' like that and i'll really start enjoying myself," he tells you.

you retreat just to grab your cigarettes and light one up. he swipes your lighter faster than you can snatch it away.

you quit smoking after the two of you broke up. so did he. and here you both are.

"just came to check on you," he tells you. you both know that's a lie. you both know why he's here, and you both know why you aren't trying any harder to send him away. "you could use some friendly company."

you tell him in no uncertain terms that he's not friendly company.

he flips open a carton of cigarettes--your carton, you realize with a start. you didn't see him take it. he pulls out a cigarette and  lights it up, but pockets the carton, a wry little smirk on his face.

"don't act like you hated it last night."

you snatch the cigarette out of his mouth and tell him he'd better not say a goddamn word about last night.

"sure, baby," he tells you, he watches your lips intently as you take a drag of his cigarette. "you know I can keep a secret."

...

this is on you @keegansshark

more Keegan / masterlist tag

[sirfrogsworth]

A few people took exception to calling my car's CD player useless.

I actually think it is great there are a few holdouts still using CDs.

CDs are truly one of the most perfect media ever created.

And I can prove that mathematically.

Some will say vinyl is superior. And as much as I love records, the audio quality is preferred, not better. People have a *preference* for how vinyl sounds, but it still leaves out audio information and has noise and artifacts caused by the mechanics of the turntable and an imperfect manufacturing process.

In fact, the lesser audio quality is exactly what people enjoy. It has a warmth and comfortably compressed dynamic range that is not fatiguing over long listening sessions. It's like choosing a nice fire over a 100% efficient space heater.

But if you want perfect audio quality that does not exceed the limits of human hearing, compact discs are where it's at.

It all has to do with Dr. Harry Nyquist and his Nyquist-Shannon Theorem. (Sometimes Shannon gets left out and it is just called the Nyquist Theorem.)

The simple version is he figured out how much something needs to be sampled in order to not lose any information. As long as you sample something at a frequency greater than or equal to twice per cycle, you will have a lossless... whatever.

In this case, a lossless audio recording.

So the range of human hearing is about 20 Hz to 20 kHz. That's the lowest and highest frequencies we can perceive. The scientists creating CD audio figured they'd do 22 kHz for some overhead and then you double that to get 44 kHz. (Technically it was 44.1 kHz.)

You can imagine the smooth curvy line as an analog recording. No gaps. No information loss.

The black squares are digital samples recorded over a period of time. You can see there are gaps between those black squares. A tiny bit of time passes between the squares where nothing is sampled. INFORMATION LOSS! NOOOOO!

Clearly the vinyl nerds are correct and digital is inferior, right? You are going to get the dreaded... STAIR STEPS!

Not so fast, bucko!

By getting enough samples over a period of time, you can use math to infer that smooth sloping line connecting those individual samples. So the digital recording also has no information lost once it is converted back to analog and played through your speakers.

This connecting of dots is called "interpolation."

You could take the curvy analog, convert it to digital, get the same black squares, and then interpolate the black squares back into analog and get the same curvy line. It goes back and forth perfectly. And this is all verifiable with an oscilloscope.

NEAT!

Then of course you need a good dynamic range--the spectrum of quiet to loud. Anything above 85 decibels will damage your hearing, so they went with a 16-bit depth which covers roughly 100 dB. Again, giving them a little overhead for death metal and overzealous trumpet players.

And the final component is data bandwidth or "bitrate" usually measured in kilobits per second. This is how much data is read every second. The 1s and 0s of it all. The bitrate of a CD is calculated by multiplying 44,100 samples per second per channel by 16 bits per sample and then multiplying by 2 channels. After all that mathing is math'd, you get a perfectly uncompressed 1,411 kbps.

So you've got all the frequencies you could ever hear combined with as much volume as your ears can stand with a bit rate that will give you no loss of data.

The *perfect* audio quality all encoded into little microscopic pits.

Now you may be asking, "Why do I see "24/96" or "24/192" advertised on fancy audio equipment and high quality streaming platforms like Tidal? Aren't 24 bits better? Isn't 96 kHz MORE than 44.1 kHz?"

Dr. Nyquist might say... this is some bullshit.

This confusion comes from the fact that recording quality and playback quality are two different animals. This misunderstanding happens with video and photo quality as well. Recording in 6K will give you a sharper picture even if your final playback quality is 4K. You can get bad pixels and noise and stray photons that do not contribute to the detail in the video. By giving yourself overhead you can ensure you hit the desired quality target.

And recording at 24 bits and 96 or 192 kHz, you get a higher resolution to edit and master with, but it is only advantageous to the computer software... not the human ear.

From a photographer's perspective, I relate to it like this...

If I have more megapixels and more colors and more dynamic range I have more leeway when editing my photos. If you try to push a low quality photo in the edit, it has this tendency to fall apart. You can get ugly color banding and harsh contrast and sharpening artifacts. By capturing more quality than you need in the finished product, you can process the photo much more dramatically before it deteriorates and loses integrity.

Audio and video are the same way.

So let's say you have a metal singer that screams at the microphone as loud as possible from 2 inches away.

At 16 bits they may surpass that 100 decibel dynamic range and distort the recording. But if you record in 24 bits, you get 144 dB to play with. Or you can even do 32 bits and get 1500 dB--a volume that no human voice could ever surpass. It guarantees a clean, distortion free recording, but 32 bits would be pointless for human listening.

The same is true with the sample rate. Having a higher resolution allows you to zoom into waveforms and adjust things to an extremely granular level. You can do precise timings, tiny pitch adjustments, apply loads of digital effects, and just have more room for audio activities without degrading the sound quality.

But outputting 192,000 of those black squares is going to interpolate the exact same smooth curvy line as 44,100 when it is played through speakers.

The oscilloscope knows what I'm talking about.

Now I am about to reveal a secret that no audiophile who has invested in a $115,000 high resolution 32 bit/3,072 kHz DAC wants to acknowledge...

The master recording is always more important than the playback quality.

If you have a high quality source it will sound great even in a highly compressed MP3. Just like the 6K video is sharper on the 4K TV. And the high megapixel photo looks better in an Instagram post.

If the source is good, the media will be good.

And since high resolution audio services often seek out the best masters available before encoding their playback files, it gives many people the illusion they are getting better sound quality due to the boosted specs.

When in reality, it was just a better copy of the original recording.

According to Nyquist, your human ears are not computers and all you need is double the frequency to hear perfect sound with no loss of information. So anything above 16 bit/44.1 kHz/1411 kbps and you are just wasting bandwidth on a server.

And I don't want to hear anything about "stair stepping."

IT'S MATH.

Your ears aren't better than math, okay?

If you don't believe in math, then you and Jack White can sit in the naughty math corner with his bespoke overpriced vinyl pressings.

I will say, there is a gap between your standard music streaming service like Spotify and your bullshit audiophile service like Tidal.

Free Spotify uses heavily compressed files. Which means the bitrate is quite low and there can be information loss. Or "lossy" compression. Modern compression is actually pretty amazing, but I'm afraid anything below 320 kbps may cause some songs to not sound as intended.

Depending on the content, some songs are more suited to compression than others. And even with premium Spotify, they cap songs at 320 kbps which still may not be enough for busier, harder-to-compress songs.

Also, I don't know if Spotify cares about getting the best quality master for a given song. Which, again, is the most important aspect of sound quality.

But services like Tidal waste bandwidth with their super specs and that isn't great for the environment. What I'd love to see is a company that makes their best effort to seek out high quality masters, and encodes their files at 16 bit/44 kHz with a lossless variable bit rate compression. Variable bit rate or "VBR" will do more compression during simpler parts of the audio and less compression during more complex parts. It's smart compression, basically. And as long as you use a high enough bitrate to achieve lossless compression, the sound quality will be the same as if there is no compression at all. So you still get smaller file sizes that use less bandwidth and have a smaller environmental impact.

That would be a streaming service I would consider paying for. Especially if they put great effort into getting high quality original recordings for their content.

In conclusion... if you are still using CDs you don't need to worry about audio quality. You're all set. There is a sort of beauty in what the audio scientists who created compact discs did. They figured out the limits of human audio perception and created a format that just slightly exceeded that. No "bigger number is better" marketing. No audiophile bullshit.

They said, "Here is what you need and nothing more."

They made a perfect thing and they should be proud of that.

[a-d-nox]

what your tarot deck thinks about how you spend your time

grab your tarot deck, a piece of paper, and a pen! make a list of everything you do that takes up a majority of your time - number these tasks (this is the number that corresponds to the task AND how many cards you need). ask your deck "what do you think about the time i spend on my tasks?" while looking at your list. below are some ideas of what the cards you get could mean.

fool

upright: it's new to you but totally worth the risk OR you could delve deeper into it

reversed: you should spend your time doing something else

empress

upright: you are in your element

reversed: take a break OR try approaching this activity from a different perspective

emperor

upright: this activity makes you stronger and is well worth its time

reversed: reallocate your energy

hierophant

upright: time to take some classes OR to start offering your own courses to others

reversed: take a break, you'll come back to it

lovers

reversed: you and this activity are co-dependent (this is really unhealthy, if it has to do with social media), consider setting boundaries or managing the time you spend on the task

chariot / strength

upright: take this activity to the next level

reversed: practice makes proficiency - keep trying, you'll get there

wheel of fortune

reversed: time to let this activity go

justice

reversed: have you considered that this might be a case of "square peg, round hole"?

hanged man

take a step back; there is something you aren't seeing that will help you to make your activity even easier or more fun for you

death/tower/judgment

something about this activity has changed and you have to let it (this is very important, if it has to do with socializing)

temperance

upright: don't do this activity alone, if you can help it

reversed: stop forcing the situation - take a break

devil

upright: this activity is not good for you physically, emotionally, and/or mentally

star

upright: this activity is perfect for you and it will likely inspire you in other areas of your life

reversed: don't lose hope - give it some time

world

upright: time to wrap up this activity OR you might win/gain something by doing this activity

ace of cups

upright: it's perfect for you

reversed: it's exhausting you - spend your time doing something else

2 of cups

reversed: you might be using too much of your time doing this activity - make space for other things in your life

3 of cups

upright: do this activity with others

4 of cups

you should should spend your time doing things you love, not things that make you feel disappointed

6 of cups

upright: prefect activity

reversed: it's time for you to move on

8 of cups

move on

9 of cups

upright: you are working hard to be good at this activity; keep it up

reversed: you need to not be so cocky about how good you are at this activity, and practice moderation when doing this activity too

10 of cups

upright: perfect and fulfilling activity

page of cups

upright: love this card, especially for creative activities

2 of pentacles

upright: you need to find balance, you are spending too much of your time doing this activity

reversed: you are being irresponsible with your time and your money - you really should reevaluate how you are spending your time

3 of pentacles

upright: this is a great sign that you might make this activity a side hustle

reversed: its okay to take a break

5 of pentacles

upright: i don't believe this activity is good for your mental health

7 of pentacles

upright: you are getting there, you are almost at your goal with this activity - but if you feel like the juice is not worth the squeeze, you can and should stop

8 of pentacles

upright: this activity is well worth it

reversed: you are likely feeling burnt out, so take a break

ace of swords

upright: side hustle potential, for sure

4 of swords

take a break

6 of swords

upright: explore new activities

7 of swords

reversed: try a new approach when it comes to this activity

10 of swords

move on to something else; abandon this activity

3 of wands

upright: delegate other tasks and activities, so you can do this one

5 of wands

reversed: the devils in the details; stop debating what to do with this task, and how to approach it - just jump in and start ("start by starting")

6 of wands

you are going to win something for this activity, keep working on it

8 of wands

do this activity when the mood strikes

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next. if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

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© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[bradshawsbitch]

mess w/ roommate!bradley 😵‍💫😵‍💫 for blurbs:)

oof, okay we're starting off on a roommate spree here folks! i love it so much. I tweaked it a little bit because I'm just such a slut sap for first times 🥹

[ MESS ]  our muses are supposed to be cleaning up in the shower after sex,  but sender starts to finger receiver. 

warnings; female reader, afab!reader, roommates to lovers, smut 18+, fingering, masturbation, tit worship, thigh grinding, pet names

word count; 2.4K (did you say blurb?! god damn it I have a problem)

tagging some people; @roosterforme @mak-32 @lt-bradshaw @roleycoleyreccenter

"Bradley." you tried to keep your voice stern, shoulders squared, and eyes blazing with the power of every woman who had ever cleaned in her entire life. "We need to have a conversation."

"Alright, what's up, tiny?" Bradley looked up from the paper he was reading, the nickname he'd given you did nothing to alleviate the frustration you felt with your roommate. You weren't tiny, you were actually on the taller spectrum of it all, according to you. But not to chicken man.

"Have you--" you had to cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to make sure you didn't accidentally hurt any feelings here. "Has anyone ever taught you how to properly clean a bathroom? Because I distinctly remember that we said yesterday that I would take the kitchen, and you would take the bathroom." Bradley had skirted that particular chore one too many times.

"I don't follow," Bradley furrowed his brows and put his paper down beside him.

"There's still your tiny facial hair remnants in the sink! And don't get me started on the shower! Did you even scrub the shower walls?" Bradley blinked at you. There truly was nothing behind those big brown eyes, huh? Just sawdust and jet fuel.

"Tell me who to contact to file a complaint about your lack of cleaning knowledge." you put your hand on one hip, unfortunately taking the well known stance of a woman scorned.

Bradley licked his lips before looking down at his lap. You thought you knew what might come next. As he looked up, there was a perfect iteration of a hurt expression on his face, those same brown eyes now misty and puppy-like.

"My mom--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake Bradshaw, you already pulled that card this week. Ain't no excuses for being in your mid thirties and not knowing how to clean your own damn bathroom!" try to get out of that one huh, feminist king. See how you'll chicken your way out of that.

You figured Bradley might take offense, or at least start arguing with you. He'd been well known for his short fuse. To your great surprise, those big eyes that had just been misty widened initially in shock at your brusque statement, before his head tipped back and a roaring laughter eased from his throat.

"Oh god, tiny - you're just perfect, aren't you? You're right. I should know better," he now moved to stand, mirth playing in his eyes as he took a few steps forward until he - to your great annoyance - towered over you.

"I know this is not supposed to be your job then," he murmured softly, using his hand to make your stubborn gaze meet his "but would you be so kind as to show me your preference in making our bathroom squeaky clean then, doll?" he was smirking now.

God damn naval aviator knew he was hot. It irked you that you could not say that he didn't affect you. His little pet names, his stupid broad shoulders, his ridiculous sun kissed skin, the way he always smelled so good the way he--

"C'mon tiny, we got a tight schedule now!" Bradley called you out of your dazed state, and you huffed as you followed him towards your spacious shared bathroom.

"Alright, sweets, talk to me." He talked as if you were his god damn backseater, trying to blow up the enemy toilet. "What's the first step?"

Rolling your eyes, you started to peel off your socks and shorts. "Tiny!" Bradley's eyes went wide before he averted his gaze promptly.

"Oh, c'mon, Bradshaw, don't tell me you're in your mid thirties and have yet to see a woman in underwear," you smirked "I'm gonna walk you through a deep cleaning. Don't want to ruin my clothes. Tends to get a little wet,"

If Rooster's lips wobbled at your use of the word 'wet', you chose to ignore his childish quirk.

"But if you want to ruin your Grateful Dead shirt by getting cleaning shit on it, fine by me," you shrugged before ridding yourself of your top, leaving you in a matching black panty and bra set. They were plain, nothing sexy about them at all.

Swiftly pulling out the cleaning supplies, you started ordering your roommate around the bathroom as the two of you started to hose down the room. You hadn't made it far in your mission to scrub the sink before you felt a spray of water against your back.

Turning around, you were met by a mischievous looking Bradley, the shower head pointed straight at you. If looks could kill, you're sure Bradley would have a paper cut by now. Maybe a bruise.

"Rooster!" you tried sounding stern, but it came out more as a tired whine. "Hey, I'm sorry, Tiny - c'mere!" Bradley must've sensed you were starting to get fed up, because he opened his arms to you. Stupid naked, muscly chest looking inviting and warm as hell. You stepped into the shower, wrapping your arms around Bradley's waist as he maneouvered the shower head back into it's position on the wall.

It seemed like neither of you cared that the warm water was now washing over the both of you, your underwear becoming soaked. You'd always wondered what it would be like to shower with your roommate, but you never envisioned this scenario. In your scenario there were even less clothing, and much more moaning.

It wasn't always easy, breezy (but definitely beautiful) living with Bradley - in spite of the fact that he lacked competence in bathroom cleaning, he made up for it in every other aspect of householding and in his caring nature.

"This feels good, Tiny," Bradley murmured against the top of your head as he held you. "Told you it'd get wet," you mumbled against his skin, your lips currently smushed against his sternum. You could feel his chest rumbling as he chuckled, his large hands leaving their safe spot in your embrace. They started gently caressing your sides, before one hand again found it's place on your chin - tilting your head softly upwards.

Looking into Rooster's brown eyes, there was no twinkle of mischief left, nor confusion or mistyness - you weren't quite sure what this look was. As his other palm cradled your jaw and a portion of your neck, it dawned on you. Before you could name the emotion, Bradley's lips were upon yours in a wet kiss.

His lips moved slowly against yours, as if he was giving you the option to either engage or leave. A soft noise left your throat as you pushed up on your toes, wanting to feel more of him. The grip he had had on your chin eased, that hand moving to grip at your hip to keep your body steadily pressed against his.

"Wanted to feel you like this for fuckin' ever, Tiny," Bradley groaned as you took a gasping breath, his lips kissing down your throat. "Bradley--" you whined, eyes fluttering shut as his skilled hand rubbed at your ribs, slowly inching up towards the underside of your breasts.

"Is this okay, doll?" he breathed against your ear, his mustache tickling slightly against your earlobe.

"So okay, Rooster - oh god," you moaned softly as his thumb graced the swell of your breast, applying just enough pressure to send anticipatory waves of pleasure rolling through you.

"Please, I-- more," you whimpered, your hands tangling into Rooster's damp locks, tugging slightly - eliciting a rough groan from him. "More of what, doll? Tell me," his voice was husky against your throat as he switched sides, tongue soothing where his teeth nipped and his lips latched on to suck marks onto your soft skin.

"You-- Please!" his hand was still teasing the underside of your breasts, and you were squirming against his warm body, trying to make him fucking grab them already. You needed his hands on you.

"Words, sweetheart," he sounded pleased, a smile forming against your skin. Yanking his hair a little harsher, you licked your lips as the water cascaded down Rooster's well muscled upper body.

"I need your hands on my fucking tits, Bradley," you commanded, a certain bite to your tone that had a moan rolling off of Bradley's parted lips. Your words seemed to have triggered something in your roommate, because he promptly pressed you against the cool tiles of the shower wall. Not before his one hand had swiftly undone the clasp of your bra, flinging the wet garment to the floor.

"Such lovely fucking tits," Bradley groaned, eyes transfixed on your naked breasts as his large hands covered them, his fingers squeezing and kneading in unison. Letting your head fall back against the wall, you let out a long, relieved moan at the stimulation. Bradley whispered out a breathless 'Fuck' as his thumbs rolled over your nipples, taking in how well the soft flesh looked squeezed in his hands.

"Fuckin' dreamt of these tits for so fucking long," Bradley confessed, leaning down to let his warm tongue circle over the now pert nipples. "Wanted to hold them, lick them, suck them-" at the last word he let his lips enclose around your nipple to suck, making you cry out - the sound echoing over the sound of rushing water.

"Fuck them," Bradley growled as he put more pressure into his kneading movements. At this he looked into your eyes, pressing his body up against yours, his thigh slotted between your slightly parted legs.

"Bradley," you whimpered, not in a state of mind to say much else, and the fire it ignited within those brown eyes had you whining in pleasure again, his thigh pressing against your clothed core. "Wanted to make you mine for so fucking long," Rooster continued, letting his lips meet yours for a hard kiss.

"God, make me yours, Rooster," you whined, grinding down against his large thigh, needing the heat he'd started in you satiated.

"Fuck, Tiny!" he rutted his pelvis against your own thigh, and you could feel how hard he was against you.

"C'mon baby, tell me what you need," your roommate murmured before he once again leaned down to lick and suck at your breasts, relishing in finally getting to drown in their supple flesh.

Who knew Bradley was a tits man?

"Need your hands," they were everywhere and nowhere all at once, you needed them to bring you more pleasure.

"Need my hands, hm? D'you need them here, sweets - is that it?" his left palm had left it's perch on your breast, reaching between your bodies to cup against your soaked pussy. A soft mewl left your parted lips as you nodded fervently.

"Yes! Please, Bradley," you were practically begging for him now, but you found you didn't care.

"Sweet girl... fuck - I'll take care of you," Bradley's voice sounded a little wrecked as his fingers slid underneath the soaked cotton of your panties, his fingers rubbing against your core. Lifting your leg, you held it against Bradley's thigh to give him easier access, your hands gripping on to his shoulders as he let his cupped hand, two middle fingers, glide through your folds over and over again.

At the sensation of one of his fingers slipping into your welcoming heat, you let out a gasp - tightly followed by a moan. Fuck, even his fingers were big. Your hips started moving on their own accord, slowly swivelling against Bradley's hand. His other hand had begun pushing at his wet underwear, only managing to pull them to rest past his hips - successfully freeing his hard cock.

"You drive me crazy, Tiny - I've heard you touch yourself through the walls for so fucking long. Your little gasps and moans," he groaned, adding another finger to your hole, fucking them slowly in and out of you as the heel of his thumb dragged against your clit.

"You know why I call you Tiny, baby?" you shook your head, delirious with pleasure as you noticed Bradley had wrapped his other hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, the thick tip of him rubbing slightly against your abdomen.

"'Cause of your tiny fucking gorgeous moans as you try to keep quiet," Rooster moaned loudly as he pressed his cock harder into your skin for friction "Try to keep from moaning my name, huh?"

Nodding your head, you were properly grinding down onto Bradley's fingers now, fucking yourself against his palm as you bit your lip. "Yes, Bradley! I thought of you," you whined out, finally opening your eyes to look at him, soft moans and gaspy breaths rolling from your parted lips onto his as he pressed his forehead onto your.

"You gonna cum for me, Tiny? Gonna moan my name as you fuck yourself on my fingers?" brows pinched together, nodding against his forehead, small mewls and moans left you as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers meeting your bucking hips as they curved inside of you. The sound of him fisting his cock against your skin adding to the sensuality of it all.

"Bradley," his name was a drawn out moan "I'm gonna cum so hard on your fingers," you mewled out, pressing your tits against his hard chest. He didn't speed up his movements at your warning, but kept the pace and angle at the almost exact position of where they had been when you uttered the words.

"Cum for me." Bradley spoke against your lips "Look at me." he commanded, brown eyes meeting yours as you gasped, hips grinding hard against the palm of his hand before you let out a tiny moan of his name, euphoria washing over you as your body convulsed from the pleasure your roommate was giving you.

Bradley let out a soft curse, his fingers still fucking into you as he moaned your name, hips stuttering as he fucked his own hand too, his cum coating your hips and thighs as he shot his load over you. Slowly easing his two fingers out of you, you whimpered at the sensitivity, letting your arms wind around his neck as you buried your face in his skin.

"Bradley..." you voice was small, and his strong arms circled around your waist, hands resting on your ribs as he held you. "S'okay Tiny, I've got you," he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"I've got you," he repeated, softly caressing your skin.

"We're gonna have to clean this up..."

[silverskye13]

wait silver if renbob visits hels has he met the red king? and if so are they disastrous or iconic together

"Deliiiiivery! :D" Renbob calls in a sing-song voice, holding a stack of boxes in his arms. "RK, where you at my brother?"

He stands in the empty loading dock at the back of the Colosseum, smiling expectantly at the vacant bay. He likes hels. It's warm, and the people are interesting. It could stand to be a little more colorful, but not all pretty places are colorful. Like the beach for example! It's mostly just yellow and blue and hot, and it's still pretty.

(That's perfect actually! Hels makes him think of the beach: hot and monocolor, but somehow still interesting once you get past all the sand. Hah! Imagine a beach in hels! It'd be like a sauna, all steam and rocks.)

"RK I know you can hear me," Renbob calls again. "I can't hold these boxes all day! Well I can, but I will get bored you know?"

There is a grumbling, growling sound that comes from everywhere, but mostly the back of his head. It starts as several whispered and snarled words, and slowly coalesces into a string of coherent thought, "I don't answer to the name RK here, lad."

"My bad, must've gotten you mixed up with someone," Renbob chuckles. "Do you want your delivery?"

"Loading bay?"

"They won't let me park the van anywhere else, my brother. Oh! Please bring your favorite sword, if you don't mind? :)"

There is a cacophony of barks and growls as Red's presence slips out of the back of Renbob's mind. He wonders if Red knows that's the sound his thoughts make: an angry pack of wolves. They aren't kind wolves. They whisper a lot of unkind things when they trail after Red's thoughts. He wonders if that's why Red is always so nice to people: he's keeping the wolves from the door, so to speak.

Red strides into the loading bay, one hand on the wall as a guide until it ends in the open room. He steps confidently even when the wall is gone. The iron crown, sunk down low over his eyes, either doesn't hinder his sight, or he's memorized enough of the Colosseum that it doesn't bother him anymore.

"What sound do my thoughts make :O ?" Renbob asks. Red, who'd been walking a little too far to the left of him, twitches his big, wolf-like ears and realigns his path, meeting Renbob where he stands in front of his camper van.

"What sound do ye... Thoughts make?"

"Yeah, do they make like, sound? I always figured you'd hear a pleasant background of guitar and ukulele music."

Red tilted his in an expression that probably meant he was raising his eyebrows. It was hard to tell with the crown in the way. "Ye thoughts sound like yer voice. Though there do be a slight... Birdsong type noise."

"Is it chillaxin?"

"Aye sure."

"Groovy! :D" Renbob laughed. "I'll take it then! And like, you can take these."

He passes the stack of boxes to Red, who struggles a bit with their weight.

"What all have ye brought for me lad?" Red grunts, giving up on holding them all and setting them down. "All I asked for were some of those hot chips, and ye lemon squares."

"Oh it's just some bits and bobs, mostly," Renbob hums brightly, counting on his fingers. "There's a shulker of emerald and lapis (you said you were looking for a new color to go with all the red? :V those are opposite on the color wheel might be a good place to start! :) ), a shulker of flowers for dyes (all labeled. Are you color blind? I can't remember. Anyway I labeled the dye colors they make ^_^), three boxes of lemon squares (for you and your hand and a box for your Colosseum buddies! I'm sure they'd love some :D), two bags of spicy chippies, and I got you two bolts of fabric (your cloak is getting so torn up :( you've gotta take better care of your stuff brother!). Oh, and there's a few diamonds in there I nicked from Ren. (He won't miss 'em I promise ;) )."

Red tilted his head to the side, "How...? In the world...?"

"Hmm? :)"

"How do ye make...? With your voice...? Ye know what, it be unimportant," Red chuckled, a growling noise that fractured on the edges, a hint of the wolf-thoughts that leaked into real life. "Alas lad, I did not know ye would bring so much, else I would have had payment ready for such finery."

"Oh perish the thought, RK!" Renbob grinned, waving a dismissive hand. "You know you don't have to pay me!"

"Er... Red."

"That's what I said. :3"

"I see, ye be jesting?"

"Jest so!"

"Ah," Red smirked and leaned against the tower of boxes. "Ye said ye visited Ren. How fares our little brother?"

"He's older than both of us Red!"

"Aye, but he also be shorter than both of us."

Renbob laughed, bright and hearty, and for a moment, sunshine flickered in the Colosseum. Flowers bloomed around Renbob's feet. "Right you are, brother! Though I think he might be taller than me if I took my platforms off."

"Aye, but I see no universe where ye be making that particular wardrobe choice."

"I dunno. I was thinking about going to the beach after this. Do you guys have beaches in hels?"

"Aye, if you fancy soul sand by the lava lake."

"Oh man, I haven't taken a good lava bath in awhile!"

"Ye do love those an uncanny amount."

"It's exfoliating!"

"Makes me smell like burning hair."

"Well, to like, really enjoy it you have to get past the-- wait! You asked me a question?"

"Our little brother."

"Right! Ren's doing well! Gave him a ride over to his new season with his boyfriend."

Red, who had found one of the boxes of lemon squares during the conversation, coughed out a bite of lemon. "Begging your pardon?"

"You know, those go down a lot better with milk. I think hels dries them out a little. :("

"Ren has a boyfriend?!"

"Oh! Yeah, mister Docm77," Renbob beamed. "I don't think they've made it like, Facebook official yet, but they sure were making a lot of plans together for next season!"

Red sighed out a breath of relief, holding a hand to his chest. "Ye be jesting again."

"Mostly. :)"

"Well, when this great Book of Faces writes their names side by side, ye let me know."

"Certainly!" Renbob crossed his arms behind his back. "Oh, hey, before I go, like, could I ask you a huge favor?"

"Aye, lad?"

"I need a sword. Gonna be hopping to some dangerous orbits soon I think, and like, I'm real peace love and plants and all, so I can't make my own. But I can accept a gift, if you catch my drift?"

"Ah, suddenly all the gifts make sense," Red hums. He reaches down to his sword belt and unbuckles it, passing it off to Renbob, sword, scabbard and all. "Must ye take my most precious one?"

"You know how I work, Red. Only gifts given with love," Renbob grinned. It was a little sharper than it needed to be. Red couldn't see all the teeth. But it was nice to smile wide sometimes. "I do really appreciate it, my brother."

"Of course." Red smiled back, also showing a few too many teeth. Renbob felt a swelling of fondness for Ren's helsmet.

(It really was nice to be with kin sometimes, the people you could really be yourself with. Red didn't think he was unsettling, or fae-like. Red didn't go making a big deal about how widely he smiled, or how much he changed when his whims stretched him around. Red didn't begrudge the odd little pacts and rules he had to follow.)

"Well I'll like, catch you on the flipside brother!" Renbob said cheerfully. "Don't die while I'm gone, ya dig? :)"

"Don't go being any stranger," Red returned, picking up a box to carry back to his rooms. He would need help carrying them all.

[fainting-is-punk]

I wish people would stop dismissing how hard it is for autistic people to make friends by saying to just make friends with other autistic people. They act like it's just that easy.

Internalized and expressed ableism, clashing sensory issues, stimming, routines/schedules, and additional disabilities/disorders can put up some hurdles that are hard to deal with or will put us in situations that aren't good for us.

I've had a friend that I couldn't see because their stims would set off tic fits. I've had a friend who couldn't hear me speak because the noises I made sometimes were overstimulating for them and would take most of their spoons for the day. I've had friends where black-and-white thinking meant we couldn't stand to be around each other.

I'm not saying this to discourage anyone. I know this isn't their fault, nor is it mine. We're just not compatible. I just wish it would be acknowledged that "just make friends with autism" isn't the fix that allistics seems to think it is. It's rarely a perfect fit. Just like allistic friendships.

We're not a monolith. Stop treating us like one. Just because a square and a hexagon have corners doesn't mean they're the same shape. Nor does it mean they'll fit in the same hole.

[formosusiniquis]

A Steddie / Buckingham comedy of errors of sorts. It goes like this.

Robin thinks Chrissy Cunningham might be her non platonic soulmate. She's smart, a little goofy, observant, seems like a great listener, and after what the rumor mill is saying was a pretty intense summer has really come into her own. It's a shame she went straight from dating Jason to Eddie Munson.

"She said she's working on herself," Steve claims, more in tune with the gossip than she is, "pretty hypocritical of you to say guys and girls can't be friends."

Which is pretty hypocritical of him when she knows he only cares cause he's already planning his wedding to Chrissy's new boyfriend; he needs Eddie to be single otherwise he's pining away for his perfect co-babysitter for nothing.

But it doesn't matter if they are dating or if they aren't or if Chrissy Cunningham with her perfect strawberry blonde ponytail is her soulmate, because her parents keep trying to set her up with some friend of a friend. She needs to do something quick before disaster strikes.

Melissa and Richard Buckley still know how to tie one on, when the occasion strikes. They're parents now, they've settled down some. Given in to the picket fence life, keep their yard mowed so Gayle Collins down the way stops glaring. They haven't done anything really crazy since that weekend they left Robin with Minerva and went to see what that whole Woodstock thing was about. Now they mostly just stick to getting as high as they can and stargazing on the weekends that Robin is off with Steve, a sweet boy kind of a square but the brownie recipe he gave them makes the best edibles.

Melissa can tell her daughter is lonely, she notices a lot of things about Robin that she won't tell them. Richard has noticed that their dealer Eddie has started bringing a friend along with him. Eddie is a sweet boy too, raised well respects his elders something they care about now that they've become them, he is also obviously and fantastically gay. Like all the parents in Hawkins, Richard and Melissa have heard how Wayne Munson has taken in that Cunningham girl after she came back from her trip out of state. Melissa remembers being a vaguely out of control youth and knows that a trip out of state is code for one of two things, and Chrissy doesn't look like she's ever been pregnant. Chrissy seems like a girl who might like their daughter.

Steve would die before he denies Robin just about anything. She is the platonic love of his life, they nearly died together, they've come out together. He's pretty sure as long as he has Robin and his kids he'd be content for the rest of his life, romance be damned.

A sentiment Robin seems to agree with since she wants him to fake being her boyfriend. Obviously, he says yes. Steve is a good boyfriend, he's always been a good boyfriend. He's attentive, great with parents, knows when to keep the pda to a minimum but also knows when to put on a show. He used to be pretty sure that Mr. and Mrs. Buckley liked him. So he's not really sure why they pulled him aside before movie night.

"Your parents hate me."

"There isn't a parent in Hawkins who hates you."

"You mom just asked me if I didn't think it might be better if I found someone more suited to me."

"What does that even mean?"

"It's basically mom code for I think your the worst person my daughter could have brought home. If I had the choice I'd kill you so why don't you do us both a favor and fuck off."

"I don't think that's right."

"Rob, I love you but conversational nuance isn't exactly your thing."

Eddie likes his job. Sure it's technically not honest work, but who knows maybe down the line they'll legalize it. He's getting in on the ground floor, an entrepreneur. Hawkins is surprisingly pro-weed and Eddie is just fine sticking to that after this summer. His favorite customers are the old folks. Like Miss Brenda at the library or the Buckleys. He always brings Chrissy along when he goes out these days, she feels weird staying in the trailer by herself and he likes having her nearby. She puts people at ease.

Except the Buckleys, who seem strangely obsessed with her. They ask her pointed questions about Dorothy, and surely they mean an actual Dorothy, surely the nice middle aged couple aren't trying to figure out if Chrissy is queer. Sure he got some vibes off of Buckley the younger, but that was before she started dating the love of his life. Now he's starting to think his whole gaydar has gone to shit.

Chrissy, a baby gay who has just broken free of the nastiest case of comp het Eddie has ever seen, answer honestly. She doesn't know a Dorothy, is that one of Robin's band friends? How is Robin, she is so sweet. Chrissy just wishes she had more time in the day so they could see each other more. She's dating Steve right, they make just the cutest couple, don't they think?

Eddie can tell Melissa doesn't. A surprise when even Wayne likes Steve Harrington, thinks he's the bees knees. Loaned him a screwdriver or some shit when the guy was over fixing something at the Mayfield place. She smiles though and agrees that Steve is quite sweet, in a tone that Eddie is far more used to hearing used when people are talking about him than about Steve Harrington. He blinks and the next thing he knows Chrissy is agreeing for them both that dinner on Friday sounds lovely; she'll bring a dessert.

Like she's ever baked in her life.

Chrissy Cunningham has had a rough couple of months, but she's settled now. Sure, she had a breakdown so bad in Eddie's trailer that she ended up having to get professional help; but she got that help and a new support system for herself. Really, the only way life could be much better is if she were dating Robin Buckley.

Eddie likes to tease her, calls her a baby gay like she's a wobbly legged deer still figuring things out. She's had eyes on Robin since the fifth grade, when she got her hair cut short to her shoulders the first time and her teeth still had a gap before her braces went on. Steve is a great guy, she's seen him with the group of freshmen that follow him around like ducklings; she's also watching him now and he's spent most of dinner making moon eyes at Eddie instead of his girlfriend.

She doesn't understand how, Robin is a vision. Full of spit and vinegar, she is firecracker mad glaring at her parents across the table. "You really brought him here? I'm dating Steve, can you not accept that?"

A lot happens at once, Chrissy isn't entirely sure what is going on but it feels a lot like a pot boiling over, something left too long unattended.

"We aren't trying to set you up with our dealer," Mr. Buckley said. "You're not exactly his type."

"Chrissy is such a nice girl." Mrs. Buckley tries.

"You said you stopped that," Steve to Eddie, a lethal pout on his lips and downturned eyes.

"Well, I stopped with the kids," Eddie tries, "I gotta pay the bills somehow, sweetheart."

"Chrissy?" If Robin was a vision in her sharp eyed rage, she's radiant in her pink cheeked surprise.

Once the shock, surprise, and comedy wear off Chrissy thinks there will be tears. Robin's parents seem nice. They seem like the kind of parents you confide in and who hold you tight. She thinks about her mom doing something thoughtful, thinks of her quietly accepting who she is and who she loves; and when she can't do that she thinks of Wayne and Eddie and knows she'd cry once they were alone and the theater of it all was over. So she thinks she might need to make the most of her moment while it's there. "I don't want to be a homewrecker," she jokes, something she's picked up from Eddie, "but I think your boyfriend has his eyes other places."

"Boyfriend, what boyfriend?"

"They're showing Clue at The Hawk this weekend, if you want to go with me?"

Robin can't nod her head fast enough.

"Stevie, I noticed you find yourself newly single," Eddie says, sorrow so fake he should rethink his decision to go within 10 feet of the drama department. "If you could bear it, would you want to crash their date make it a double?"

Steve agrees so fast a bit of hair escapes his coif, it falls in a curl at his forehead.

Robin's parents both seem pleased, pleasant smiles that chrissy is becoming more accustomed to seeing on adults now that she resides in the Munson place. "They'll be smug about this forever," Robin confides. Her smile betrays her lack of real dismay.

Chrissy got her girl and her best friend got his boy, so she thinks it's all's well that ends well.

[rosielav]

Rosie's Favorite (currently finished/caught up) Podcasts:

The Amelia Project - silly, quirky, morbid but almost always more jaunty and eccentric than completely dark. Great for anyone who loves 'narrator' or interview type podcasts. If I'm not mistaken, I've posted some of my thoughts on here using the pod's hashtag.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbitity, and Mortality - another narrator type podcast, and probably my favorite of all time. The main voice you hear is perfect imo and keeps you engaged in all the right ways, bringing tension where it's needed, and levity where it's funny or odd. Absolutely consumed this podcast with a voraciousness I haven't felt for a bit. Keeps you guessing and always wanting more from every exhibit.

Victoriocity - excellent voice acting, interesting and unique premise and setting, and great plot. One of the podcasts I'm most looking forward to returning :) think steam punk but also it's the 1800s still in weird ways. If you love an old timey British accent, you'll love this haha.

The White Vault - probably my favorite specifically horror podcast, that makes you wait for answers in a craving sort of way, a longing to know what's going on, and not slogging through a bunch of filler to then get answers. It's great, gorey, geographically diverse fun. Interesting mashups of various cultures re: mythology, history, religion(?). Another on my list to watch out for the return of.

Midnight Burger: the quick pitch is - a time traveling diner that always services people in need, no matter what time, space, or dimension they may reside in. Excellent cast of characters, great development, wonderful implementation of a new character(s), and in general a very comfortable vibe to return to (speaking of, once I run out of recommendations I may relisten to this one). Highly recommend if you like sitcoms with time travel splashed with a bit of horror.

Edit: just finished up another one, so time to add it to the list!!

Monstrous Agonies: A radio show advice segment, about, by, and for the Creature Community. If you like WTNV, but find it a bit intense sometimes, or a bit too plot heavy/etc, you'll absolutely love this. Instead of the whole show, you just get the advice segment, but oh ho ho, is it so much more than that. If you're queer, BIMPOC, from a blended/mixed/broken/anything but 'typical' home... I think you'll like it. Very much what I would call 'easy listening', meaning you can just ease into an episode without having to remember a huge cast of characters, a plots b plots C plots meta plots... And it just feels *real*, in that strange and beautiful way WTNV does, but instead of a fictional town, the setting is the real world, with real problems, and real solutions. Sometimes you really do just need to howl or cry or chew on some slippers and that's OK. Highly recommend for ADHD havers or anyone with a short attention span who loves a soothing voice.

Edit: Another absolute banger to add to the list

Wooden Overcoats - how do I even properly describe the experience of this podcast. Let's start with the basics: It's the story of twins who run a funeral parlor on a small island, in a small village. Their family has been running said parlor for hundreds of years, as the only funeral directors on the island. Until one day... They aren't. A man arrives and sets up his own funeral parlor directly across the square, and boy, do things change for those twins. If you've listened to (and loved) Victoriocity, or The Amelia Project, I guarantee you'll enjoy this one. Strange, silly, and interesting things are always happening, except this one doesn't have quite as much drama (well...... Perhaps a different kind of drama. I'd call this an interpersonal dramedy, with emphasis on the comedy). An incredible listen, through and through. I thoroughly enjoyed every single episode, and the ending was quite safisfying :)

Another EXCELLENT addition to this ever increasing list of content!!! I'm not even finished with this one, I just love it so much that I can't help but add it to the list:

Mission Rejected - you know in those spy movies, where the spy gets a secret message from HQ and they say 'your mission, if you choose to accept it...' ok great. Now imagine if 007 said 'no'. This is the story about the backups, the team that takes the missions rejected by the Top Spy Guy. It's got diverse voice acting (in many senses of the word - you can tell the voices apart, it's not exclusively straight cis white dudes, etc etc), wonderful worldbuilding, great pacing, an excellent plot, I really could go on and on. I highly recommend this specific podcast to anyone who wants something light to get deeply invested in, that has a lot of comedy but also develops the characters outside of just their bits. 100/10 no notes

Edit: not sure which podcast/podcast enthusiast rb'ed this yesterday but I'm so glad more folks get to see this list!!! It makes me so happy that lots of folks enjoy this list, a d share their fave ones, and!!!! Aaaggghhhhhhhhh!!! I love podcasts and podcast enthusiasts!!!!!

Also I have another one for yall :3 if you're looking for another improv comedy to add to your list!!!

Hey Riddle Riddle - exactly what you think it is, but also so much more. Three friends/coworkers who also happen to be sensational improv comedians solve riddles and puzzles together, while also introducing bits and skits and reoccurring segments, so it never feels like 'just a Riddle podcast' (whatever that means). I have laughed every single episode, which is a big deal for me (some comedy podcasts only make me laugh every few episodes, and I require at LEAST one laugh per episode). I can genuinely say this is one of the funniest podcasts I've ever listened to, and the absolute best improv I've ever heard. I'm all for committing to the bit, and this one absolutely delivers on both the commitment part and the bit part haha. Seriously can't recommend this one enough if you maybe listen to a lot of drama/horror and need something easy to listen to (easy meaning there's not a plot you have to be intensely listening for, you can just enjoy it casually). 1000/10, please listen and also tell me YOUR favorite riddles :)

[bonefall]

This may be a bit of a silly question but I’m trying to research this for a fanclan and I cannot make a fox’s tail out of the non twoleg workings

So how would you/Windclan go about reinforcing the tunnels? Used to think it was just ‘put a thick branch up there and every few fox lengths, it’ll support all that’ and that doesn’t seem quite right anymore. Please and thank you 🐈‍⬛

I'm gonna try and keep this reply simple and not get into the in-depth mechanics of digging holes, that's a post for some other time and I'd have to talk about depth and learn math and shit

So very simply putting it, usually, you would naturally dig square tunnels, and this is where all the tension of digging comes from. See, a square tunnel is really bad for physically holding things up, so beams are there to help.

Think about a tunnel kind of like building a bridge. The tunnel is a structure that needs to hold up the dirt above it. Really, functionally think about how many bridges are truly flat; it's not many! You want Arches.

And, it just so happens, a tunnel ALSO wants to be an arch. I'm not sure if I'm explaining this well so I drew a little diagram of a cave-in;

[ID: A drawing of a square tunnel with a dotted line showing the arch of where the dirt will collapse. It progresses into the second drawing of a rock fall, revealing the arch of the first drawing.]

Most cave-ins aren't the ENTIRE tunnel collapsing, it's the part of the tunnel that WANTS to be arch. Arches good. Arches are physically the best way for holding things up. Problem is that you can't dig like that without dropping however many pounds of earth on yourself.

So really, what you want is a beam, not just a stick in the middle of the hole. You want to put a beam from wall to wall, supported by two columns beneath. Like minecraft.

Other various things;

Older tunnels are, actually, usually more structurally sound. There's been more time for them to "stabilize."

The deeper the tunnel, the more stable. This is because the earth above the tunnel is packed in better. You do NOT want to open up a staircase downwards like minecraft, the entrance will COLLAPSE.

However, naturally, a collapse in a deeper tunnel is more deadly and severe for obvious reasons.

Just to state the obvious, sand bad. You do not want to dig in sand. Sand Bad.

Canon vastly overstates the severity of shallow tunnel collapses. Cats will die in less than a foot of dirt :/ There's this part in DOTC where Jagged Peak activates a quicktime event and a burrow collapses on him and it was so profoundly stupid it's been in my head ever since

suffocating in an old animal burrow... girl... do you think rabbits are constantly dying in collapses? genuinely? In soft soil?

Gray Wing is like, "you almost out bro?" and Jaggy-P is like, "ya im coming" and then WHOMP. DIRT. thats not how this works thats not how any of this works

And as a final note... the problems with WC's portrayals of shitty parents aside, it actually makes perfect sense that Tallpaw would think his father Sandgorse is a lunatic for feeling safe with going right back in after a collapse. Tallpaw doesn't know that some kinds of cave-ins actually make the tunnel more safe, but Sandgorse, an experienced digger, would.

(unfortunately the writers don't know this. but i do.)

[the-kr8tor]

I’m feeling in a really wintery mood today, so may I suggest for fluffy friday TTN hobie x reader as kids playing in the snow during winter break from school?

(Love your hobie x readers btw! Especially ttn!)

AHHH A TTN REQUEST I LOVE U FOR THIS ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you!! I'm glad you like my lil series 💕

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, Fluff

TTN! Hobie is based on my series ❤️

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You build a fort with snow, walls almost as tall as you, cold biting at your bare hands. Maybe you should've taken your winter gloves with you. It's too late now though as Hobie places his finishing touches on his side of the battlefield. The tip of his tongue poking out from his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. He's bundled up nicely compared to you, missing your gloves.

"Hurry up, Gromit!" Hobie pats the last bit of snow on his fort, hands already forming his first snowball.

"I'm trying!" Briskly trying to complete the fort, it looks wonky on the side. You huff in annoyance.

"Need help?" Hobie asks with a snicker, you glare at him across the snow covered field.

In retaliation, you hastily mold a snowball in your hand, hiding it behind the wall. It's not a perfect shape but it'll do. Aiming for his head, you throw it with a grunt. The snowball flies across, hitting Hobie square in the face.

"Ack!" Snow slides on his skin, wiping it clean off, revealing his mischievous smile, fiery eyes staring at you. "I'm going to destroy you!"

You screech, wide smile on your face as you duck away from Hobie bombarding you with snowballs.

It was a fight to the death, giggles and laughing sounding out in the cold winter air. Hobie gets numerous hits on you whilst you focus on precision, hitting him where it hurts. His fort tumbles down from your pelting, leaving him unprotected.

He gasps out in realization, you laugh triumphantly, arms at the ready to throw your arsenal.

"You cheeky–" Hobie gets cut off by your snowball smacking him on his temple. You laugh like an evil villain. "That's how it is, huh?!" He runs towards you at full speed, snow crunching under his footsteps. Hobie grabs a handful of snow on his way.

Your eyes grow wide, yelping as he grows closer, running for dear life. Unfortunately for you, your opponent has longer legs, he catches up to you in seconds. Feeling ice sliding on your back where Hobie pushed snow inside your thick jumper.

Yelling, you try to take out the ice from your clothes, jumping and wiggling about. Hobie guffaws on the sideline, clutching his stomach in laughter.

Finally getting rid of the snow in your clothes, you tackle Hobie while he's distracted. You two tumble in the snow, bringing your frozen hands to his cheek. He shrieks at the cold making you copy his earlier laugh.

"Why aren't you wearing gloves?!" He howls out, pushing you off.

You fall on the thick snow, giggling as he fists your jacket collar. Sticking your tongue out, you try to rile him up more. "I forgot it"

"Y'know you could get frostbite from that" He tries to scare you.

"Pssh, no, I won't" you roll your eyes.

"Yuh uh, then I have to cut your fingers off just to save your hands!" He takes your hand pretending to chop it off. That does it for you, gasping in fear of losing your fingers, how are you gonna draw without them?

"Noooo!" Sitting up, you rub your hands together in a futile attempt to warm them up.

"That's not gonna work, here" Hobie takes his gloves off, putting it over your frozen hands for you.

Heart warming at the scene, you let Hobie give you his gloves. "Thanks" he lets out a quiet 'sure', "softie" you continue, he flicks your wrist at your quip.

"You want hot chocolate? I have some at home" you ask, eyes twinkling.

"Sure, but no milk for me" Hobie stands up, extending his hand to help you up.

You take his hand without question, clouds puff out of your cold lips as you beam up at him. "Let's go then! I have tiny marshmallows for it"

Hobie follows you with a wobbly smile.

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

[nomoreusername]

Dibs

Pairing: Platonic Gally x female reader

Summary:When Gally asks why you never greet the Greenie's you talk about what it's like being the only girl.

I'll be the first to admit it. I didn't trust Y/N when she first came up. I was worried she'd throw everything out of order or was sent up as someone we need to be suspicious of.

That had been proven wrong three Greenie's ago. She didn't even interact with people much, and she's definitely never done something to throw this place off balance. If anything she contributed a lot, going in-between jobs whenever needed or just doing smaller ones throughout the day. She could be a Builder one day and Slicer the next. She'd volunteer as a Cook for one hour and switch to being a Slopper.

There was only one thing she refused to touch which was actually surprising. Despite what you're thinking it's not the Maze. Some days she's actually a Runner. No, she refuses to be anywhere near the Greenie's. When the box comes up she's almost nowhere to be found. Sometimes she's not even a Runner or even just in the Maze so I don't know how she disappears for the entire day. I'll be the last to admit that I've actually looked to see if I could spot her. So far nothing.

So I did something that I don't even know the reason for and hatched a plan. When everyone's by the box I'm checking every square inch of this place. There's no real reason for me to do this. She's not a troublemaker. I just don't get how nobody else notices her absence.

So I was waiting for everyone to start standing by the box. A few others were already making their way over just in case something happens. After another minute, then two, then five, basically everyone has left. Knowing I had to be quick since she obviously couldn't stand them I tried the first place that made sense.

The Deadheads were never something I've really gone in. Maybe once or twice to chase down a Greenie but never without any other reason. Still, Y/N knows not a lot of people need to come here. Sometimes the Track-hoes need fertilizer, which she also got without hesitation, but never anybody else. This was the perfect hiding spot for anyone.

♡ - - - ♡

As I went further in I realized she definitely wasn't here. I kicked the tree next to me, and just a second later I heard rustling above me. I looked up, puzzled by the noise, and spotted two feet dangling near the top branches. Suddenly I didn't know what exactly I would do. I hadn't actually planned this far ahead.

Debating whether or not this was completely stupid I decided it probably was. Despite that I started making my way up the tree anyway. Random branches sticking along with painful thorns tore up my hands. If this is where she goes to hide why pick here? Especially since she actually was at the top.

Still, fueled by determination I didn't quit until I was on the branch beside her. She didn't say anything or acknowledge that anyone was next to her for what felt like centuries.

"Shouldn't you be with everyone else in case the Greenie gets violent? You know? Scare them with your 'day one Greenie' and all that,"She asked, after a while.

"Probably,"I shrugged.

"Why are you up here with me then? You've been here for about two hours."

"I didn't even know this place was that big,"I responded.

"Well, it is. Now answer my first question. Why aren't you with the others greeting the Greenie?"

"I wanted to know why you're never there,"I admitted. As always she didn't react to my words. She doesn't react much to what anyone really says. She'll talk to you and have a conversation, but she has this blank look the entire time. It's not a zoning out or disinterested look. It's more of she's expecting you to tell her to do something, maybe work another job around here. If it's not she still sits there talking but stone-faced. It's hard to explain.

"I got permission from Alby to not be around during Greenie day."

I have to admit that this caught me off guard. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that she actually asked so she wouldn't be around them.

"Why did you ask him though?"I questioned. She didn't say anything as she looked at the ground. For a second I thought she was just going to stop talking all together until she mumbled something under her breath.

"Dibs."

"Dibs?"I asked, not knowing what that meant or even if I heard her right.

"Yeah. When I came up a bunch of you starting calling dibs on me. I heard a few 'is she hot?' and 'I wanna look'. I didn't hear many people say anything to them. Just Newt pulling me out of the box and promising me I'd be okay, Alby telling them to get to work, and you telling them to shut their mouths before you make them."

"Oh. I forgot about that,"I said without thinking.

"Of course you did,"She sighed. "You know, you all greet the Greenie's in a normal way? You pull them up, maybe laugh at their confusion, and explain everything. Sometimes you chase after the ones who run like you did me."

"I couldn't let you go in the maze,"I pointed out.

"Why do you think I was running Gally?"

"Because you were surrounded by a bunch of strange boys and no memory?"I guessed.

"Partly. Most of it was the fear of what could happen. Of what one of you could do to me, much less an entire group. I didn't know my name, but I knew that I wasn't a human at that moment. I was nothing more than a piece of meat, a joke to spread around like ash, and a little girl with no true protection. All I could think was that I couldn't let someone catch me. I couldn't even let them come near me. If I fought I knew there were more of you. Even if I know you wouldn't attack me now I didn't then. All I could do was run."

I didn't know what to say to any of that. I remember that day, but I never actually paid it much mind. I just thought it was another Greenie day. Only there was a girl this time. I didn't think anything more about it. To her though, it was everything different.

"I know some of you still think I'm weak. That's why I travel from job to job and do the things a lot of you don't like. Plus, I'm never around too many people for long. You didn't trust me when I came up, right?"

"Not at first,"I confessed.

"Right. Well, I don't trust some of you. Even those of you who didn't say anything like that are people I keep an eye on. Sure, I have some friends I'd give my life for, but it's either because they stood up for me or weren't there. Newt, Alby, Minho, Ben, and Chuck are all the people I truly feel safe with. I'd trust more than I do if we were friends, but I'd still come to you if I was in a situation that called for it."

I just stared at the ground not knowing what to say to that either.

"You're wondering what this has to do with avoiding Greenie's, aren't you?"She asked.

"Oh. No, I kind of forgot about that part,"I admitted.

"Well, you followed me to my hiding spot so I'm going to tell you anyways. After the first two I realized you all treated them so differently. No dibs or jokes. It sucked to know that my welcome was me being talked about like an object right in front of me. No shame, no guilt, no anything. Just comments. That hurts sometimes. Knowing that nobody is yelling at anyone to shut up or leave Greenie alone hurts. Because I don't feel like a Glader. That's why I took so long to carve my name on the wall. I feel like an outsider in what's supposed to be my home."

I just sat there dangling my feet above the ground like an idiot. I really, really, really, didn't think this far. What exactly do you say when someone pours their heart out to you? Much less someone who you've never had a personal conversation with?

"I don't know if it means much, but I never really saw you as weak. Maybe suspicious, but never anything else negative. You work hard, and you've actually helped fix a few things we hadn't noticed."

"What choice did I have? Not working hard means people can make more assumptions about me. Some still do. I might accidentally drop something that doesn't seem heavy because I've spent hours carrying other heavy things or trip over my feet in the garden because my legs hurt from running the maze yesterday. Then, a few people may still make a comment."

"Well, that's stupid. Nobody else works every job here. What right do they have to say anything?"

"It's just how it is Gally."

"It shouldn't be though."

"There's not much anyone can really do. I've accepted that it's not me and brushed it off."

"You thought it was you?"I asked, not knowing how that was possible.

"For a bit. The life we live isn't easy. There's a lot of stress and questioning your sanity. You don't think you're the only one who sits on the Watch Tower at night to think, do you?"

I turned to look at her since I've never actually seen her there. She was staring straight ahead with the same blank expression.

"I leave when I realize someone's there. I didn't realize who was there for three nights until I almost got caught one night. I make sure to check more carefully now,"She explained.

"If you want you can just come up, and we could just share it. I'll sit on one side, and you can sit on the other,"I offered.

She didn't say anything so I looked back at her. For the first time that I can remember she had the ghost of a smile on her face.

"Yeah. I think that's fine. After all I trust my friends with my life."

"Yeah. So we're friends now?"

"Depends. Are you willing to deal with what people could say about you?"

"Yeah."

"Then, yes Gally. We're friends now."

[moodymisty]

May I request Vulkan taking care of his pregnant S/O and just over all being cute and fluffy?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Ahhh, it's about time someone asked for Vulkan. This is about as fluffy as I can make WH without completely losing the plot. I mean, we're in this hellpit for a reason, aren't we? Apologies for any offness for Vulkan, I'm still lore reading for him and his legion.

Relationships: Vulkan/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy/Tokophobia warning, General 40kness but overall pretty bland and fluffy

Word Count: 935

A clash of blades, the sound of a ceramite gauntlet hitting a chestplate with inhuman force- Salamanders fight one on one in the large open space. The sky high above grumbles and threatens to downpour, but it hasn't smothered the Salamanders' fire just yet. Not that it isn't trying, with the smell in the air and the cold, moist wind on your skin.

You watch them, hearing the ringing of metal on metal and blood drip onto the stone ground as you wrap your arms tighter around yourself in the chill. Your rounded stomach serves to be the perfect place to rest them.

"Mother,"

You don't respond to the title right away, head only darting to the right once you see a massive pair of dark green boots enter your downturned vision.

You don't think you'll ever get used to being called that. Particularly with the prose that the Salamanders use. Not all of them use the familial title, but enough do that it still feels almost overwhelming. You wonder if Vulkan felt the same way, at first.

"Should you not be resting?"

Your eyes travel up the massive Astartes, up to a face staring down at you stoic and neutral, head tilted with the slightest curiosity. He turns away from you however, when you both hear another voice laugh at the Astarte's inquiry.

"If she will not listen to me about rest, she will surely not listen to you either."

Vulkan comes closer, his massive hand covers your shoulder and you purse your lips while shaking your head.

"I don't want to spend months stuck in a room. Can I not watch them spar for a few moments?"

You might not have many more chances to, if your child grows any larger. It's already a pain to do tasks that were menial not long ago. Though you can't complain, given the unsurprising nature. The child's father is a Primarch that towers over you, after all.

A Salamander gets toppled over by his opponent, but quickly regains his footing as you watch him defend himself. The man that had first approached you excuses himself, taking his exit and leaving you and his Primarch largely alone. Barely anyone would be able to hear you over the sounds of metal ringing, from both weapon and armor alike.

"We only worry for you."

Vulkan's gaze is soft, hand still firmly on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. But as much as they do worry about your health, it also seems that his men get a pride in them, at their Legion Mother being here.

Vulkan could tell when you had first arrived that his sons rose just a bit higher, shoulders squared just a bit more, and even though they always fight with their all, Vulkan could tell they went just a bit farther beyond.

Taking to a kneel in front of you, the massive Primarch places the hand that was once on your shoulder on your stomach, despite him being unable to feel with the armor of his gauntlet impeding. It's the symbolism of the gesture that he desires foremost. Your body relaxes a bit.

"And how is the little one now?"

It will always strike you how incredibly gentle he can be despite his size and the sheer power contained within it. It must surely be a conscious effort to do so.

"Well, according to the apothecary." He looks towards you, and his hand once again moves to the side of your jaw. You lean into the surprisingly warm armor. His thumb brushes against your skin.

"And how are you?"

The question makes you laugh, for some odd reason. He doesn't ask why and simply waits for your answer.

"Tired. Aching. The fresh air is nice, though." Vulkan smiles.

"Your intuition was right, it seems." He's referencing your concern from a few months back, about your worry of the child of a Primarch taking a toll on your body. You grumble largely to yourself.

"One of the few times I hate being right."

The comment makes Vulkan struggle to hide a smile behind stoic expression. He worries underneath it; For your health, the health of the child, and so many more things. But you worry enough. As you should, you're the one who's health and strength is being tested every day by simply holding a such a life within you. He has never voiced these things- he wishes to be your strength whenever yours might falter.

You consider maybe returning to your private quarters, finally heeding Vulkan's advice to rest despite your complaints, until you notice a unique set of armor among the sea of deep green. It makes you perk up and curious look to see if your first inclination was correct. Vulkan follows your gaze, raising up to his full height.

"Commander Artelleus is going to join them?"

The commander of the Pyre Guard is nothing short of a violent force of nature, in stark contract to his surprisingly selfless nature. Any step you might've made to leave is taken back and idea abandoned.

"I'll stay just a bit longer then."

Vulkan laughs. Surely the commander with have his pride warmed when he tells him of your comment. But for Vulkan, casual, purehearted curiosity even in the face of such violence and brutality will always be one of his favorite things about you. Many times had you kept him company by his forge, even before he called you his beloved.

Vulkan gently moves to pick you up, sitting on his arm. Your hand grips the edge of his pauldron as you sigh at the feeling of your weight being taken off your legs.

"Very well."