#tunnel poly

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Happy Scars

Wanted to draw one of the Tunnel Poly kits!

As he got older, Adderclaw got quite a few scars in scuffles. He sees it as no big deal, it's all fun for him. In the Dark Forest, no one holds a grudge against someone that gives them scars. It's just what you do.

He gets something from all of his parents.

From Fox, he gets his sense of humour and energy.

From Ember, he gets his agility and cleverness.

From Gorse (bio), he gets his build, pelt, nose, and ear colours and fascination with mythical creatures in stories.

From Birch (bio) he gets his tabby trait, eye colour, and almost perpetually joyful mood.

His tongue is a mix of Gorse and Birch.

@starfalcon555

============

Base: F2U - Longhair Icon by Rexolete on DeviantArt

Background: [2019] Dark Forest Background [Feel free to use] by Kirabeans on DeviantArt

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

3, 6, and 8 with tunnel poly for pride ask game pwease :333 (ik that birchflight and foxfire are my ocs but it's always fun to see your interpretations of them!)

3: How did they discover themself (their sexuality)?

Gorseheart always thought that he was straight until he met Fox. It was really confusing for him because he lived until (insert Warriors equivalent of 50-60 years old) and had an afterlife of probably quite some years before Birch and Fox entered the picture, and only then did he feel attraction towards a male.

I wrote a story about it here!

Emberdawn initially thought that she was straight as well. But unlike Gorse, she was attracted to gals, she just...thought it was normal. You know, just admiring their beauty and laughing a little too long at their jokes and wanting to be around them a lot. It wasn't until she got to the Dark Forest, where same-sex couples were common place (more common than in the living Clans) that she had an "oh" moment.

I like to think that Fox bounced back and forth so much because he couldn't decide. *Sees a pretty she-cat* "Oh, I like girls!" *Sees a handsome tom* "Oh I like boys!" *Sees a pretty she-cat* "Oh, I like girls!" *Sees a handsome tom* "Oh I like boys!" *Sees a pretty she-cat* "Oh, I like girls!" *Sees a handsome tom* "Oh I like boys!" Then he found out he could like BOTH and he lost his damn mind.

I also imagine that Birchflight never understood the whole physical of it all. It was personality and how cats acted that made her attracted, their physical appearance (and gender) seemed very trivial, so when cats went on about how handsome or beautiful someone was or how they wanted to become mates with someone who looked good, she didn't get it. She TRIED to. When she found herself liking someone, she tried to focus on their physical traits and their gender, trying to see if it made her feel more attracted. It didn't. She didn't DISLIKE how they looked, it just...wasn't a huge factor in whether or not she liked them. She would make stuff up "I like his chin-fur" to seem more normal. In the DF she realized she is okay the way she is, and doesn't have to pretend for anyone.

6. How does your oc feel about labels? Theirs, or in general?

When Gorse found out about them he was like :O!! He thought it was so so cool!

For simplicity, he identifies as a multi-sexual polyamorous tom (he doesn't know for sure if he's pan, bi, omni, or poly, so he just sticks with the umbrella term [it's likely either omni or poly]).

Emberdawn likes them the same way someone would like a nice new shirt: fun to have and enjoyable to own, but not SO important that she thinks it completely defines her. She has it to have it, but she would be fine without it as well.

She is a bisexual polyamorous she-cat.

Both Fox and Birch like them a lot!! They both had that feeling that they were weird. Fox for not being able to make up his mind and being sure like everyone else seemed to be, and Birch because she couldn't fit in with how others felt. Having labels not only make them feel like they're not wrong, but it reminds them that others are the same way.

[Found on the refs] Both are pansexual polyamorous

EDIT: it's possible that the reason Fox couldn't decide which he liked (prior to finding out he could like both) is because he ALSO preferred personality over gender+appearance but just didn't realize it.

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

I think I pretty much mentioned it!

Gorse struggled because "wait do I like toms?? Since when???"

Ember struggled because "wait not everyone does that?"

Fox struggled because "I CAN'T CHOOSE"

Birch struggled because "WHY CAN'T I BE NORMAL?"

All heavily internal, but external could have a cause, since no one else seemed to be the same, and Clan culture is very different from DF culture (heteros everywhere). If they had met someone like them a lot sooner, it probably would have helped a great deal.

[lesbiangiratina]

Genuinely why do people seem to feel so threatened by the concept of aromanticism

[polyamorousmood]

How do people handle when a partner says something along the lines of...oh, what, I'm not enough? I don't feel like the notion of polyamory is about anybody not being enough. But not quite sure how to articulate that in a helpful way to reassure another person. Thoughts?

There is no in-the-moment fix to this that I've found.

That is a big concern that requires a lot of work to address. Your partner has to have an open mind, and you have a lot of explaining to do. It's a process, and you'll probably have to explain it several different ways, several different times for it to sink in.

I would caution against directly saying "you are enough" because... your partner alone won't satiate you, in one way or another. If they could, you likely wouldn't be trying/doing/asking for poly stuff (in such a mono-centric world as we live in). But I'd also be likely to bet no ONE person would satisfy you either.

Here's as good a place as any to put the very necessary read-more. There's specifics and stuff below the cut

Okay, I'm having a hard time organizing what I'm trying to get across as flowing prose so we're just doing bullet points of general advice. You know your life better than I do though so these are not hard-and-fast rules so much as consider-this-es.

🔍Find the specific worries your partner has. Without judgement work with your partner to get to the heart(s) of the issue. Are there any precise worries your partner has? When you go out to eat, your partner isn't scared their cooking isn't to your standards. So what ways are they actually worried about being "not enough for you." Sexually inadequate is a common fear, but so is the fear that they're not providing enough for you emotionally or materially, they might worry you're discontent because your hobbies don't overlap enough, or a thousand other things. There's likely general anxiety there as well, but know as much as you can about what worries your partner has.

👇Be specific with your reassurance. As discussed, saying "you are enough" is too easy to ✌️"disprove"✌️ (these are air quotes). But that's in part because its too broad. Any one thing you prefer to do with someone else can serve as "proof" the partner in question "isn't enough." So focus on what you value about your partner, what you get out of that specific relationship, what is special and un-replicatable that you enjoy. "I will always want to do [activity] with you" and "I love your way of seeing the world. When we were talking about [subject] you mentioned [interesting point]. I never would have considered that. I want to keep hearing your insight" and "I NEVER thought I'd like [whatever], but the way you love it makes me love it". You should also (if applicable, do not lie) probably assure your partner you are still committed to a long term relationship with them, including working through problems together.

🤝Help your partner build security in the relationship. Have dedicated time that's just for them Even if you're living together so everything you do is "together", make quality time. Those specific reassurances? Write them down on fancy paper and give them to your partner, so they can refer back to it when they need to. Thank your partner for coming to you with concerns, even when you're not sure what the fix is. In your daily routine you should be telling your partner things you're grateful for about them.

🧍Help your partner feel confident as an individual. The worst way to transition a relationship to polyamory is to go straight from spending every minute together to seeing other people. Perhaps counter-intuitively, you need to have separate lives, preferably before you add other people to the mix. You should spend at least a couple hours a week with friends or on hobbies away from your partner and vice versa. If you're everything to your partner, the fear of not keeping you is the fear of losing EVERYTHING, so your partner needs to see they have value outside of the relationship. And that WILL make a good relationship STRONGER, and less dependent.

⏲️Take time to work through problems.Don't let stuff fester. If you notice your partner is feeling off, say so in as many words. If they aren't ready to talk, its still helpful for them to know you notice and care about their feelings. If they do want to talk, talk. Even if you don't know how to proceed, take real time to sit together and brainstorm. If you don't reach a possible solution, establish a time to revisit it. Don't. let stuff. fester.

💭Know what you mean. "I don't feel like the notion of polyamory is about anybody not being enough" okay, what is it about? What's the draw for you? For me, whose very kitchen table, its about freedom and trust, sure, but its also very much about exploring new things and sharing that experience with my partner. I feel our love is stronger when it is not bogged down by petty mortal notions of exclusivity.

📘📗📙📕Explain your needs multiple different ways. Find several metaphors that describe how you feel. "My favorite meal cannot be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner." "It doesn't feel different to me than friends. You're my best friend but I wouldn't say no to hanging out with a work friend for my best friend's sake." "The sun is beautiful, I cannot live without it, but its also really important I get to see the stars". "I can't do monogamy. I tried really hard in the past, but it felt like cutting off a limb. I wasn't wholly myself, I could still feel phantom sensations of what wasn't. It drove me mad" Whatever you feel suits the situation. Be prepared to go into detail, be prepared to explain the shortcomings of your metaphor, and be aware of what negative associations your metaphors my have (for example, the food metaphor listed here may be misinterpreted as "so you're sick of me"). Make it personal.

🙋Its not you, its me. but like fr. DO NOT use that wording, but emphasize that your wants and feelings and needs are not caused by your partner. They are yours (and you're asking your partner to help you meet those wants/feelings/needs by allowing you some poly freedom).

📑Further reading. I talk about how to communicate effectively here. Here's a little workbook about "jealousy" but I think it also applies to in/security so it may be helpful for your partner to do independently or with you. Some explanations as to how your partner might be hurt by you having other partners. And lastly, I haven't read Polysecure (yet!) but uhhh, gonna go out on a limb here and say might be applicable (my library has a copy! so you might check yours if you don't want to purchase). And last but certainly not least, though again, nominally about jealousy, I think this article really suits your situation and offers some reframings your partner may find helpful.

As a final word of advice: hear your partner out. Your goal, ultimately is not to change your partner's mind, but to reach an understanding. You both will have to work toward understanding each other for there to be any hope of success.

[xofemeraldstars]

anyone here got a poly tunnel/high tunnel in their garden?? would want a 2nd or 3rd lol opinion on smth if you could drop me a reply <3

[mythram]

Blank Frame || by Through Tunnel (2021)

[tinyshe]

Garden Report & Frugal Living 24.06.30

I wasn't going to post. With the loss of Bronte, health struggles and the garden not doing well, I thought 'why bother'. I sat with that thought all week ... why bother. When I came to the conclusion I bother because this really isn't about me. Yes, I write about what I am doing, seeing, feeling but the reason for this is to encourage others: go garden, go try, struggle through it! Don't give up! So I'm not giving up this part of the blog (sorry).

I did get out and do my own watering today. Its back to being foggy cold and damp weather (the usual in the land of eternal fog). The weeds are rampant. The fruit trees had three blooming periods this year. I have never seem that. All the trees are long and leggy even though I don't fertilize nor water. The new growth this Spring is over 60cm/2feet. The fruit setting is very light. There was lots of rain during the regular/initial blossoming season. I also haven't seen many bees but the bumble population is strong and more plentiful than years past. Nothing in the garden is growing well. There is no difference between what I seeded and planted earlier in the season and the start I bought over a month ago. Neither are doing well. Its like they are frozen in time. Its warm enough for them to grow but they do so ever so slightly Unlike the damn trees! Its not like I am new to this. The soil is amended, plants tended and nurtured ... and I talk to other gardeners who are suffering the same lot. So I started looking wider, videos on youtube for Ireland, USA, UK, Spain and other European gardeners and many of them that are posting have similar problems Except those that are growing under the cover of poly-tunnel or glass/greenhouse. I wish I had a greenhouse so I could compare myself to myself.

Entering into July and there is still time to replant. Things that are quick growing in the 30-60 day range. I've got to think what I can manage vs what I can buy cheaply (is there such a thing anymore?!). Will I be able to put up the harvest (either homegrown or commercial) for the winter pantry is another concern.

Rethinking this food production/veg patch. This year the caterpillars again arrived and decimated the gooseberries and even the currants that I thought were hidden enough. The wasp that eat these pest arrived late and at the tail-end of this, after the majority of the damage was done. I will try to nurture the bushes back but this year was pretty damn hard on them and there is hardly any fruit and even less leaves. I was in the thought pattern of perennial planting the veg patch and then planting annual veg along the borders but that just doesn't produce enough especially with the downturn in annual plant health. Its like double dipping on the poor end of the spectrum. Do I try to invest money into a small poly tunnel? Do I do both under cover? Do I have enough protection in the back garden for a tunnel? What a mess/damage when pruning the fruit trees? Its like one of those rubik cubes or little slider number travel puzzles. My brain moving slowly through the pro and cons. You know that meme of mathematical equations and that confused woman ... yeah, that's me.

If you have any of your garden observations or have used tunnel growing in cold foggy maritime climate, please chime in. My only experience with poly is starts/propagation of native plants in a production scale for sale and not full cycle, less lone doing a stable veg thngie. Yes, Huw makes it look so lovely and easy. Can his team come over? He can come over too :) We'll have tea.

Frugal Living tip: this may only apply to fellow city dwellers but do-able for others. Instead of paying for green bin for yard/garden waste, you can do a chop and drop or in cases where there is nasty things you don't want re-sprouting (brambles, ivy, etc.) you can get a heavy duty construction grade plastic bag and load it up, tie it shut and set aside. It will eventually compost/degrade where you can load it back into your garden as a side-dressing. There has been some controversy in this as that 1) its plastic! and 2) some have been treated with pesticide (or worse! perfumes) on the inside. This will have to be for you to do more research and decide on your own. We bag and tag, and set aside by the rubbish bins and at some point just return right there where the butterfly bush, fuchsias and climbing roses can benefit.

I hope that wherever this finds you in life that you have many opportunities to enjoy a garden and nature.

Ps: Delightful gardener's reading: The Garden Essential Gertrude Jekyll, intro by Elizabeth Lawrence. This one is c. 2018 by Quiller an imprint of Amberley publishing/ Charles Scribner's Sons

[legacyphoenixx]

Tiny wimdy nixx be upon ye

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

::Download:: (Patreon - Free)

The 1920s and 30s were all about exploring places you most certainly shouldn't be. While that's rightly frowned upon now (yes, even your next door neighbour's basement, Susan), your sims can still look stylish and era-appropriate while scaling the depths of Tutenkabbagepatch's tomb, or looking for that jar of pennies from the 70s in their parents' attic.

Item descriptions below:

Freya Outfit - Look stylish while conducting your onsite research in this blouse and jodhpurs combo!

Polys - 4756

Alejandro Sweater - It can get quite chilly in those tombs! Keep warm in this stylish knit sweater.

Polys - 3428

O'Connell Pants - Want to travel light but still need storage space? These slim-fit cargos have your back!

Polys - 1150

Darnell Hat - Keep that head safe in those rocky tunnels with this stylish pith helmet!

Polys - 882

Earhart Boots (fem frame) - Who says you need to sacrifice style while exploring? These boots are both chic and comfortable! That buckle? I don't even know if it does anything other than look nice and shiny!

Polys - 1514

Earhart Boots (masc frame) - STRONG! DURABLE! POWERFUL! No, these are the same boots under the toxic guise of male-driven advertising. Shiny buckle!

Polys - 1514

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

too tired to write the story right now but what if after the poly kill Foxbreeze, others see them gathering bones and ask what’s up.

Gorseheart is then met by a line of cats, each giving him one bone. The cats are his mates, Smalljump, Batlight, maybe his older kits, (maybe Sparktail?) and everyone that Gorseheart listened to back when he was the Resident Therapist (tm) (he still occasionally checks in on them).

And Gorse thinks about back when the Foxbreeze incident happened. How not one of his friends bothered to listen to him about what happened, how he was constantly silenced and ignored, how he had no one but himself and Emberdawn. He had felt unloved, so strongly that it was the catalist that turned a once golden-hearted warrior into a bloodthirsty, angry monster. 

And how now his family cared enough to lure that evil cat to the Dark Forest and tear him apart. And then them and his friends loved him enough, were furious at his pain enough, to want to give him the gifts of Foxbreeze’s bones. 

They acknowledged a pain that he had held in for so long. They didn’t just listen, but did something. And then after that, they gave him gifts to heal, each bone a way of saying “you are here, and he is dust. He can never hurt you again, and I love you.”

And he just.

Breaks.

@starfalcon555

@elementaldeityoffood 

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Realized Gorseheart didn’t have red pupils on his death ref, so fixed that and decided to edit it some more

he looks a little intimidating, doesn’t he?

[lovifie]

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission. 

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside. 

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size. 

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him. 

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was. 

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning. 

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it. 

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny. 

Not because they would have not loved him back. 

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask. 

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one. 

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body. 

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now. 

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast. 

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest. 

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing. 

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too. 

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms. 

Warm and breathing. 

He can only imagine what you went through. 

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse. 

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him. 

He already knew that. 

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment. 

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny. 

A scarred, angry Johnny. 

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease. 

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel. 

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately. 

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart. 

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else. 

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other. 

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning. 

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes. 

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked. 

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him. 

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't. 

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest. 

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon. 

Not the greatest first impression. 

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years? 

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour. 

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection. 

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him. 

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up. 

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him. 

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you. 

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat. 

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care. 

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name. 

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear. 

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length. 

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed. 

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

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[delitegarden]

Poly Tunnel Kit

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[xofemeraldstars]

had a quick storm yesterday where even though my lettuce seedling (middle) were under the terrace the strong wind gusts decapitated like 5-6 of them, luckily I still had some in micro cubes on the larger side so I replaced those ✌️😔

anyWAY these were out in the sun, only some partial shade from the tomato on the left there, all day and they're doing AMAZING if I had them in seedling trays like this they would all be fried sitting out in the sun in 30°C 🫠

[moonstruckme]

I’m not quite sure if this is too explicit so if it is please feel free to decline, but I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader who has a past with sexual assault so is kind of iffy and stand offish about sexual inter course? Again, all good if you can’t because it is a touchy subject ! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night !! (p.s. I love your writing so much :3)

Thank you gorgeous, love you <3

cw: trauma response, mention of past sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sometimes you can feel left out. Of the easy way the boys touch each other, the knowingness they have of the other’s bodies, the in-jokes about intimate aspects of their relationship that aren’t secret from you but you’re not a part of. And you know in your bones, in that thrumming, impossible-to-ignore beat inside your ribcage, that you’re not ready to be a part of them, but it still hurts to have something about your boys that’s separate from you. Some part of them you can’t access, and it’s only because you won’t allow them access to you in return. 

And sometimes, like now, things go astonishingly well. Sometimes you can let them touch you while feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of love and lust brewing like a potion in your core. Sometimes you can let yourself tug Sirius closer as he kisses you, can swallow the soft sounds he makes into your mouth without your mind taking you anywhere other than this bed, this boy. 

Sometimes you can get so lost in them it feels like the fear can’t find you. 

“Okay?” Sirius breathes, setting a tentative hand on the small of your back. He tastes like coca cola, and his lips are a manifestation of every soft and earnest part of him he never shows. “This okay, sweetness?” 

You nod fervently, trying very hard not to think as you tunnel your fingers into the featherdown silkiness of the hair behind his ear. 

“Yeah?” You’re growing quite sick of all his talking, persistent in your kisses even when Sirius breaks them. His mouth curves against yours, sensing this, and his hand settles more comfortably into the curve of your spine. “Alright, you’re in charge. Just let me know if anything’s too much.” 

You make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Truly, logically, you feel safe with Sirius, the same as you would with Remus or James. It was his idea that you be on top, after Remus figured out that you feel most comfortable when you don’t feel trapped, after James was the one to initiate the conversation on how they can make you feel good while respecting your (admittedly, nebulous and often fickle) boundaries. You haven’t worked up the courage to do anything beyond kissing, and none of them have pushed you. Really, you’ve been the one doing the pushing, wanting more and more from the kissing until it’s turned into this, you and Sirius hiding from dishwashing duty with you on top of him and sucking his face like a dementor.

You grind your hips down into his, and Sirius’ chuckle rumbles through the both of you as he grabs a greedy handful of your ass. 

Your breath stills in your lungs. 

You still completely, actually, every inch of you rigid, from your bum under Sirius’ hand to your eyes, stuck closed tight. The only part of you that seems to get that you’re still alive is your heart, thrashing wildly inside the bars of your ribcage like it wants to escape when you can’t. 

“Shit.” Sirius’ hand flees upward, skimming up your back to safer territory below your shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, baby. You okay?” 

You want to tell him yes, in every physical, objective, important way you’re just fine. But your breath is frozen solid somewhere between your throat and your lungs and it won’t let you speak. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius is starting to sound desperate, though he’s clearly trying to stay calm for your sake. He sets gentle hands at your waist, sitting you up while he eases out from under you. You expect you’ll move like a statue, but your arms move of their own mind once freed, wrapping tight around your middle. “You’re okay, baby, you’re safe. I’m so sorry, I was—I should have asked. I moved too fast, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you talk to me, please?” 

“Sorry,” you manage. Something comes loose inside you. The air comes back to your lungs, you pull your legs up onto the bed, and laughter unspools from inside you like wire long coiled tight. 

Sirius doesn’t smile. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Are you okay?”

It’s now that James and Remus decide to come and see what you’re up to. At the sound of Sirius’ panic-tight voice, their footsteps hasten down the hallway. James taps on the doorframe and you turn to him so fast your neck clicks. His face is melded by a soft worry. 

“Everything alright?” he asks. 

You nod, but Sirius must signal something different from your other side, because James and Remus advance towards the bed the way one might approach a feral kitten. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks again, voice cracking now that the other two are here. 

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Remus says gently. “Maybe stop touching her for a bit.” You hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ hand gripping your leg, but its removal feels like you’ve lost a thousand pounds. You fight back a shiver. “She’s okay. Aren’t you, darling?” 

To hear worry in even Remus’ voice is significant. You try to make yours even to counter it. “Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James promises, crouching in front of you and Sirius. You’ve nowhere to hide from his melty-soft gaze. “What happened?” 

“I went too far.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it hurts, scraping its way out of him. Your heart throbs in response. 

You shake your head, insistent and perhaps a touch too fast. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was—I—I escalated things, and then it just—”

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Please, sweetheart. Just try.” 

You do, for his sake, pushing air in and out of your lungs like you’re trying to inflate a balloon. They won’t get as full as you want them too, but it’s not until you try that your body seems to catch up to what’s been happening. You start trembling all over. 

“Shit.” Your voice thickens, tears threatening. “Sorry, this is so stupid.” 

“It’s not,” James says. “Can I...can I hold your hand, or are you not ready for that yet?” 

“Please,” you squeak out. 

He grasps your hand, and you squeeze tightly, breathing until the tears don’t press at your eyes so insistently. You hate that the ugly thing of your past is touching something this good. That it’s hurting people who aren’t you, like it’s a virus you caught and now you’re spreading it.

“It’s really not your fault,” you tell Sirius, turning to him. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“I shouldn’t have moved without checking,” he replies in a similar tone. “I’m so sorry, sweetness. I never want to scare you like that.” 

You shake your head. “You don’t.” 

A dense silence lapses, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. James’ hand is warm in yours. 

“Hug?” you ask Sirius. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, extricating your hand from James’ to wrap your arms around his middle. Sirius is tentative at first, palms placed lightly on the high and low points of your back, but when you hold him tighter he reciprocates. You hear Remus whisper something to James. Sirius’ fingers press into your back, the tip of his nose cold where it squishes into your neck. 

Sometimes, they make you feel completely safe. 

[avocado-writing]

Omg i love your poly Deadpool and Wolverine fics !! I especially love that reader is totally a sunshine ! Could you do any fic with them and that trope ? 😍

vague sequel to this

Your bad day has been utterly forgotten. 

It’s not incredibly hard for them to cheer you up, Logan and Wade have learned. You’re so rarely sad that it’s hardly an issue anyway, but all they really need to do is redirect your energy into something else. A distraction to take your mind off of whatever’s gotten under your skin.  

There’s a little carnival that’s set up near the apartment. One of those ones which is constantly on the move, overcharges for everything, and is exactly the kind of place you love. So it was a no-brainer to take you there for the evening. 

Logan bought you a necklace made of hard candies, Wade took you on all the rollercoasters which were definitely not safe but you screamed with joy while riding. You’d insisted all three of you squeezed into a boat through the tunnel of love, and they’d come out the other side with your lipstick all over their faces, you smugly sandwiched between them. 

And through the evening you’ve been fucking jubilant. Your laughter rolls like thunder, but the kind which means a storm is going to clear out the oppressive atmosphere of a muggy day. A sweet, loud kind of laughter which peals from your very soul. Wade and Logan catch each other’s eye as you absolutely decimate a stick of neon blue cotton candy: they’ve done well. 

The three of you are preparing to go home when something catches your eye, slowing you to a stop as you stare. It’s a prize booth - the kind where you have to knock over a tower of tin cans to win. Hanging from the rafters are huge plushies of your favourite animal. 

“C’mon baby, you know these games are rigged,” Logan sighs, aware he’s marching into a losing battle. You lick the sugar off of your fingers and dump the wooden stick into a garbage bin, eyes wide in the fluorescent lights of the bumper cars nearby. 

“Aww… but they’re so cute…” you sigh, looking really disappointed. 

Well, neither of them are ones to let that happen, so Logan and Wade find themselves speaking in unison when they say: “I’ll win you one.”

They exchange a look and you grin. Oh. This has become a challenge, and both are too stubborn to back down. Together they step up to the counter, each slamming five dollars down and making the poor teenager manning the booth jump. 

“Uh, okay, you have two balls and need to knock the whole tower—”

The teen doesn’t even get a chance to finish their explanation before Logan has launched one of the pathetic beanbags at the cans with such force that it crumples a couple of them in half. They’re cleared off completely in one hit. The attendant can only gawp as he smugly points to one of the huge plushies which is dutifully fetched. You let out a little woop of joy as he passes it into your arms, giving Wade a look which says beat that. 

Wade hums, throwing the beanbag up and down in his hand, testing its weight. 

“Okay, well, not all of us are barbarians who need to use brute strength to compensate for our advanced age. It’s all about the finesse, pookie.”

Wade angles his throw so it bounces off the side wall, clearing all of the cans but one. Logan lets out a smug huff. Wade frowns. 

“Hey, look, is that Spiderman doing full-frontal nudity?” he says, pointing into the distance, distracting the teen with one hand while he whips out a knife with the other and skewers the can to the back of the booth. 

“Prize please!” he says when they turn back, turning pale at the sight of what’s been done to their game. They pass him another plushie from the roof with shaking hands, and Wade presents it to you with a flourish. 

“That was cheating,” Logan states as the three of you walk away.

“Uh, I cleared the cans, old man. No cheating about it.”

“You had a second ball to throw,” you point out, and Wade pauses. 

“Do you want the toy or not, sweetcheeks?”

And that is how you find yourself more stuffed animal than human, waddling out of the carnival with a huge smile and arms full of polyester. The whole thing is sort of ridiculous but, honestly, if you’re smiling? Logan and Wade can agree it’s totally worth it. 

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