#we don't talk about the hair because it was the hardest part but came out really weird

[saffron0v0]

using the touch pad (using the mouse was worse) brought me exceptional pain, and you all know i can't colour for crap, but i needed content so here :D some randomish oc in pixel art.

here's a close up

[somedayillbepeterpan]

on today's rewatch: S3E7 [Joining of hands]

I haven't done a good job in putting out original content for the past few months and I blame my new job entirely 😂 It's so intense, it turns my brain into mush most days.

I'm 68% functional right now so if my ramblings don't make sense, I apologise.

Today, I am thinking of Colin's retreating back after he discovered the Pen was LW.

(Colouring this gif is so hard. It's so dark 😭 I wish I was better at this.)

I don't know why I'm locked in on Colin's back.

On him walking away.

On his coat billowing as it matches the force of his steps. I have a thing for people's footsteps or way of walking because I often think about how I walk and how it represents what I'm feeling at the moment. My many, many rewatches offered me the realisation that there isn't a lot of full body shots of Luke Newton for S1 and S2 nor are walking shots. If there are full body shots, he's with Nicola so your attention is split.

I read a meta somewhere that book!Colin canonically loves walking so much so that he would endure the rain to help clear his thoughts.

I always thought that this walk was more heartbroken than angry. He walked away because his heart was breaking into pieces. But I also think that he walked away because of his love for her.

I know that the last thing he says to Pen in this scene is that he will never forgive her but I also think that he was talking more to Lady Whistledown than to Pen because at this point, they are still separate in his mind.

Clearly, this walk is the hardest to understand and has been part of heated debates of what canonically would Colin really do (this being compared to the source material aka book!Colin). I don't want to broach that debate too much because I would've done the same as Colin (as someone who is an introverted demisexual empath who value the words that come out of my mouth and actions to take but often overthinks them). And these are mere ramblings of a Polin brainrotter.

Now, there are three significant full body walking shots of Colin in S3: Colin's entrance in E1 (the faux swagger), this retreating walk in the early part of E7 (the heartbreak), and the him trying to clear his thoughts in the latter part of the same episode (the drunk, angry yet pensive one).

This walk represents the war that Colin has fought so many times. When his emotions overtake him, he finds himself walking away. I say find because I don't think Colin was self-aware nor mature enough to understand why he walked away. It's why he traveled around, it's what happened to him with Marina, and what he almost did to Penelope. In my head, this very distinctly represents Colin's trauma about his dad's death. His emotions always get the better of him.

This is another thing that I appreciate about Colin and Penelope's relationship-- they helped each other grow. If Penelope didn't have the courage or honestly, the love, to confront Colin when he was about to walk away in the modiste scene, we wouldn't have known the root of Colin's emotional trauma. Of him feeling inadequate and abandoned/betrayed by the people he loves.

On a different side of this debate, this is what separates this relationship to all other relationships that Colin has in his life-- the depth of love and understanding that him and Pen have shared gave them the the power to get out of this situation much, much stronger.

(on a side note, writing this is making me so excited for s4 even though I want to tamper my expectations)

In conclusion, I didn't appreciate the words that came out of Colin's mouth. But on the other hand, I appreciated that he walked away and he didn't do what book!Colin did. While this scene was devastating to watch, I really really appreciate how Colin spent time understanding his emotions about the whole LW situation. I know we all wanted to tear his hair out by the end but love doesn't put a timeline on forgiveness. Nor does it paint a pretty picture.

But time does help in growing yourself better.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Ch. 2

Summary: A doctor's visit changes Charlotte's perspective of things, and she begins to worry about her patient

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Talks of medical injury, talks of cuts and headwounds, talk of blood and medical procedures. No beta readig we die like John

Author's note: Once more sorry for the delay but I am writing so many WIPS at the same time things slip through the cracks, but I am really hyped for all the things I have planned

Requested taglist: @call-sign-shark @zablife

《 PREV PART -  NEXT PART 》

Steam rose from the kettle’s spout, the high pitched whistle indicating the water had boiled. The teapot had been filled with fragrant tea leaves and two slices of lemon. Sugar and milk side by side in the tray, alongside a plate with homemade biscuits and a platter of elegant tea sandwiches. Two white teacups with golden rims and matching saucers, one of them prefilled with a shot of white rum. Linen napkins embroidered with an S, silverware from Italy and a touch of affection from the hands that prepared the tray.

Charlotte picked it up carefully, carrying it close to her body to bear the weight easier as she took it to Thomas’ rooms, where he currently sat with his main physician for his monthly evaluation. Doctor Foster rarely had anything new to say or any glimmer of hope to offer them; he only came the first week of every month to tell them what they already knew and collect his payment. One of the very few visitors whom Thomas didn’t welcome with a scowl, perhaps because he secretly harboured the hope of one day getting the words that he wanted from the old man.

The scent of fresh flowers accompanied Charlotte as she walked to the second floor. Ever since that conversation with Mrs. Gray, she had redoubled her efforts to brighten up Thomas’ life. Vases with freshly picked flowers decorated various surfaces of the rooms, the bouquets swapped as soon as the first petals began to wither and fall. Every morning she drew back the curtains and opened the windows, to allow sunlight and fresh air inside. She encouraged him to rise from bed at appropriate times, not allowing him to linger between the sheets for days on end. Books, board and card games and even a typewriter had been brought up, in hopes of encouraging him to find anything to keep his mind and day occupied. She hadn’t managed to do something about his hair and beard yet, but she would soon get there. 

She pushed the double doors open with her shoulder, the teacups tinkling in their saucers and the tea sloshing slightly. When the doctor came around, he and Thomas met alone behind closed doors, not even his aunt allowed in, although she always received a briefing before handing in the money envelope. Whether the man spoke or not the truth of those sessions to her, one couldn’t know.

Lottie cleared her throat, barely enough of a sound to alert them of her presence as she placed the tea tray on a low table. She tried her hardest not to snoop, but curiosity can be a wild and untameable thing. She looked through her eyelashes towards the bed where Thomas lay, stripped down to his underwear. The doctor held Thomas’ foot in his hand and urged him to push against it as hard as he could. She noticed his hand fisted on the sheets, teeth gritted as he put all his efforts on heeding the simple command. As Thomas looked down at the doctor, his gaze crossed with Charlotte’s. The blue melted to pure ice, and he grabbed the closest thing he had at hand to toss towards her, which happened to be a harmless pillow.

“Out! Out of here! Now!” 

She didn’t need to be told twice. Charlotte scurried out of the room and down to the foyer. Mrs. Gray already stood there, nervously drumming her fingers against her arm as she stared out the window. On a side table lay a closed envelope with the doctor’s name scribbled on elegant calligraphy. Charlotte noted it to be slightly thinner than the previous one she had seen, just a couple days after her arrival to Arrow House. Maybe the doctor had lowered his fees for them, or maybe Mrs. Gray had decided he got paid far too much to do nothing except bear bad news.

Both women waited side by side, submerged in their own thoughts each, the silence interrupted only by the ticking of the grandfather clock. Three quarters of an hour had passed when Doctor Foster came down the stairs. He had bread crumbs on his shirt and moustache and a biscuit on hand. For some reason, that ticked Charlotte off. 

“Well?” Mrs. Gray asked harshly, also noticing that the man had surely spent more time eating than being helpful to his patient.

The doctor had the decency at least to stuff the biscuit in his pocket and brush off the crumbs before speaking. He stood straight, arms behind his back, a nervous twitch of the lips making his moustache quiver. He appeared to be intimidated by Mrs. Gray, a feeling that Charlotte shared.

“It is all just the same. His legs are weaker than in my last visit and he has started to lose sensitivity in some areas of the soles and calves. I am afraid it’s just a matter of time before he can no longer leave the chair, not even with the cane”

The news settled in the bottom of Charlotte’s stomach like a chunk of ice. They knew, all of them, the severity of Thomas’ lesions, and the limited prospects he had of recovery. But they thought, his aunt most of all, that they had more time before the inevitable. A few more years before he became completely and irremediably wheelchair bound and maybe worse than that. Charlotte knew all too well what sort of future would await then; bed sores, loss of muscle, infections. A lifespan cut in half.

And if she had come to learn something about Thomas during her time working there, he wouldn’t stand to live needing assistance to take a piss.

Mrs. Gray’s lips tightened into a line, eyes narrowing just enough to seem darker than usual. She put her hand on Doctor Foster’s bicep,the wool of his sweater straining a bit under the strength of her grip. The man didn't show it in his face, but that surely hurt. 

“May we have a word, you and I?” Her tone sounded more like a demand than a petition, as she led the doctor towards her private studio. Charlotte waited until they disappeared from sight to release a shaky breath. She steadied herself for whatever hellstorm would rain upon her and headed upstairs slowly. But halfway up, a loud crash cut through the silence, accompanied by the sounds of broken glass and muffled words that could only be curses of the thickest calibre. She picked up her skirts and broke into a sprint.

“Thomas?!” She called out as soon as she crossed the doors.

Thomas laid on the floor amidst broken porcelain and bits of food. The tea table had been flipped over, as had the delicately prepared tea tray. His wheelchair remained by the bed several feet away, with his cane carefully propped against it. Judging by the way everything lay on the floor, Thomas had tried to leave the room alone and unaided.

“Christ in Heaven what happened here?”

Charlotte rushed to his side, her keen eye immediately noticing the myriad of minuscule wounds in his hand and face from the tiny shards, along a more concerning cut on his temple from the table corner. She tried to help him sit up, but Thomas only smacked her hand away

“Leave me, I can do it. I can do it!” He growled, fighting her off like a child refusing to put on a coat in winter, or rejecting having dirt wiped from his cheek. Groaning due to the effort he rolled onto his back, but he had not enough strength to sit up without laying his wounded hands on the floor.

She paid no heed to his stubbornness and instead hooked her arms under his armpits, putting all her strength into dragging him away from the dangerous mess before he could injure himself further. She grunted with every pull, managing to move him only a few inches at a time, her muscles straining against the dead weight.

“Do you think I am a sack of shit to be dragged around?” Thomas hissed, but at least he had stopped thrashing about like a fish out of water.

“For fuck’s sake you are as heavy as you are obtuse” She retorted back, clearly not caring about the properties of their caregiver-patient relationship in that moment. At least not enough to watch her language. She only cared about somehow putting him back on the wheelchair and assessing the damage. 

It took her no small amount of physical strength and skill to get Thomas back onto his chair, even with him doing what little effort he could pushing with his legs against the floor. By the time she had managed to prop him back into place, a thin layer of sweat pearled her forehead, and she felt the dampness of her skin under the thick fabrics of her uniform. She hastily wiped her brow with her sleeve, all her attention focused on the bleeding wound on his temple. The crimson stained the left side of his face and neck and soaked the fabric of his shirt and waistcoat. Charlotte pulled off her white oversleeves to use them to stem the bleeding, but as expected he rose to battle the second she tried to touch him. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me. Get away. Get away!” He barked the last words, his hands slapping hers away repeatedly. It would have been comical if it had not been so irritant. But Charlotte finally snapped, her never ending patience finally fading into naught as the blood continued to pour and her patient continued to fight. At last, she got hold of Thomas’ wrists and forced his hands to the sides, her grip firm but not painful. She leaned in, their faces closer than they had ever been before. 

“I am going to take a look at those cuts whether you approve or not. So I suggest you make both of our lives easier and stop being so difficult” Her tone rose steadily with each word, surprising even herself. She had never spoken to another person, let alone a patient, that way. But Mr. Shelby had effectively exhausted all her reserves of compassion and in that very moment, with him wounded and pricked with glass, Charlotte couldn’t find it in herself to coddle him. In that moment he didn’t need her kindness, he needed the firmness and determination of a war nurse.

And Thomas seemed to know it too, deep down. For he fell silent the second her words rang through the air, eyes widened and lips parted, shocked to have someone speak to him that way. Slowly, like admitting defeat, he placed his hands on his lap, fingers digging tightly on the fabric of his trousers. He evaded Charlotte’s eyes as she took a seat by his side, having grabbed a small first aid kit she kept in hand. 

It seemed that Thomas Shelby couldn’t stand up to a woman who spoke louder than him.

While he held the rolled up fabric to his knocked temple, she took hold of his left hand and held it up to the sunlight. With a pair of alcohol soaked tweezers she began the delicate process of pulling the tiny shards off. Every now and then he hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but it took only a sharp look and a tightening of her grip on him to put him back on track. The pieces of porcelain tinkled on the lid of the first aid kit balancing on her knees as she dropped them, one by one. When she finished she pressed an alcohol soaked rag to his hand, forcing his fingers to curl around it. Thomas’ jaw clenched, but he refused to display any sign of pain besides the flaring of his nostrils. 

Charlotte inspected the cut on his head next, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she pushed aside the blood matted hair, her face so close to him her breath fanned over his face. That close she noticed even his hair smelled of cigarettes, since he refused every effort of her or anyone to help him wash.

"The cut is not deep enough to require stitching but I will have to bandage it"

Tommy snorted "I am not going to let you wrap me up like a fucking mummy"

Charlotte rolled her eyes "Mummies have their mouths wrapped shut. I cannot afford that luxury with you" She quipped, gently dabbing at the wound with a wet gauze, being as careful as she could to spare Thomas further discomfort. But that wouldn't save him from her stern words now that they had been allowed to emerge. Gentleness had proved ineffective against him, so now Charlotte had to retort to cockiness, a quality of hers she had kept buried for being ‘unbecoming’ but which now would prove useful to crack Thomas’ stone walls.

“Deep breath” She instructed, pressing the alcohol soaked cloth to his temple. Thomas bucked like a startled horse, nails digging on the armrest of the chair and teeth gritted, his head instinctively trying to escape the sharp burning, but forced to remain still by Charlotte’s firm hold. She held him against her body in an almost maternal gesture until the pain faded into a manageable sting and he relaxed his muscles and stopped huffing. 

“Are you always this much of a brute with your patients?” He asked in between heavy breaths, although his tone had dropped some of the usual sharpness in favour of something akin to amusement. As if he saw something in Charlotte that sparked his interest.

“Only with those who deserve it” The diverted smirk made it to her lips without permission. A faint hint of pride rose upon her chest, for the very first time she had managed to make Thomas comply, even if it took a head wound and raising her voice to do so. The first step had been taken for him to finally see her as an aid and not a threat or a nuisance. And Charlotte couldn’t wait to take the next. 

After she bandaged his head, having added in between a teasing comment of how things would have been much easier if he didn’t sport the haircut of a caveman, she set up to put the room back in order. The maid brought her the broom and dustpan, but Charlotte took it upon herself to clean up, knowing he wouldn’t take kindly to having others in the room while he changed out of his blood soaked upper clothes. While she swept crumbs and pieces of porcelain, the little bug of curiosity nagged at the back of her mind.

“I take it the doctor didn’t bring the news you expected” She often spoke to him, perfectly aware he wouldn’t reply, but she did it nevertheless. She always talked to her patients back in the ward, even if they couldn’t hear her or talk back. Giving them the reassurance that they had someone at their side looking after them, even if they couldn’t see her. 

Much to her surprise, however, this time the patient spoke back.

“He knows nothing, that man. I pay that man to heal me and all he does is come into me house, eat the fucking food and flirt with the maids” He pulled out a cigarette, rubbing it against his lips twice before lighting it with a black and golden lighter “He’s not coming here again”

Lottie refrained from rolling her eyes “He has been looking after you for years. Ever since you were injured during the war. He knows you better than anyone else Thomas. He is only trying to help you” As I do, she added in her mind.

“And what a great help he has been, eh?” He drummed his fingers against his thigh to emphasise his words, his piercing eyes following Charlotte’s every movement as she rolled the heavy and soiled carpet to put it aside and set the table back in place.

“I know this concept may seem foreign to you, but I beg you to show some basic kindness to the new doctor when he comes next week. I am sure Mrs. Gray had the best intentions when she asked him here and-”

He cut her words with a single statement that completely flipped her “Oh she didn’t call him here. I did”

Charlotte felt compelled to clean her ears and ask him to repeat himself in case she had heard wrong. He? Thomas himself had called a doctor to help him? It made no sense, for the man who rejected most fervently to be helped, to ask for help of his own free will.

He picked up the astonishment in her widened eyes and continued on without having to be pressed further.

“He’s been working with many veterans after the war. He seeks them to try on his new treatments. Treatments he devises himself” He snuffed his cigarette in one of her pretty vases before tossing the stub inside, letting it float around the fresh daisies Charlotte had brought that morning “He says he’s made them walk again”

A mixture of feelings flooded Charlotte, all at the same time and with such intensity she couldn’t focus on only one. Once more she had to fight back the pity, but it couldn’t be helped. How could she not feel sorry for that man who clung to the first ‘medical miracle’ that crossed his path in hopes of restoring what war had cruelly taken from him? She had seen it before, men who drank questionable syrups and tinctures, swallowed handfuls of nameless poisonous pills and subjected themselves to the most horrid types of torture medicine could invent in hopes of regaining some semblance of a past long lost.

Close second in her heart came suspicion. Thomas had mentioned that this man, this doctor whoever he was, sought the veterans himself. Which meant he utilised less than orthodox methods to retrieve confidential medical records from private practitioners and maybe even from the war offices. And those treatments created by himself? It screamed charlatan all over, a trickster who exploited desperate men and robbed them of all their life savings and more just to give them reused saline in clean vials and sugar pills in medicine bottles with handwritten labels.

Charlotte couldn’t comprehend how a man like him, so careful and methodical, a man whom everyone regarded as possessing an incomparable sharpness of mind and an overflowing resourcefulness; the man who had Birminghan quaking in their boots at the mention of his name, could be fooled by false promises of medical prowesses that smelled rotten from a mile away?

She swallowed, trying to find how to best bring up her concerns without making it sound like a direct attack on Thomas' judgement. Lottie sat on the edge of an armchair, her hands folded in her lap, fingers intertwined as she pondered her words.  

“Thomas” She rubbed her thumb and index together, a nervous tic of hers that nothing had managed to suppress “Doctor Foster has been seeing you for years now, and he has not once changed his prognosis. Don’t you find it a bit suspicious that a new doctor just comes to you and offers you a miracle?” She watched him carefully, her head slightly tilted to the left, studying his expressions. He grabbed a new cigarette, gently tapping it against the box as he spoke. 

“Doctor Foster is old and behind the times. Did you know he was the last man in Birmingham to have electricity in his house?” He sighed and scratched his brow with his thumb, pushing the edge of the bandage out of the way “He thought the toxic fumes would poison him in his sleep” 

Lottie snorted. She failed to understand how a man scared of electricity gave credit to this new physician. “Okay, I understand it. Doctor Foster is afraid of progress, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t good at what he does” Charlotte wondered if her reasoning would find home in his brain or if she just wasted saliva talking to the walls “But this man? Thomas, don’t you find it at least a bit suspicious? Did you even question him on where he got your medical file from?” Nothing made sense, that after they checked her background before even summoning her for a mere interview, they didn’t hold the same standard to the man who would be juggling Thomas’ health in his hands.

He didn’t acknowledge her concerns, obviously. In fact, he seemed to not have heard them at all. He turned his wheelchair towards the double doors, the sunrays warming his skin as he closed his eyes, dried up blood still glued to the side of his face and clinging to his beard. He brought up the cigarette to his mouth but never made it quite there, hovering just an inch away from his lips as he stared out towards the vast woods. 

“The doctors make progress every day. They create new medicines, new treatments, they heal more and more people every day. If one doesn’t help you go to another, and another, and another until one does what others can’t” As Charlotte approached him slowly, she noticed he had a sort of dreamy look in his eyes, and for a moment she worried he had gone too hard on his nighttime visit to the morphine bottle. But the dazed gaze didn’t come from opioids. It came from hope. Endless, boundless, foolish hope.

And it worried her to no end.

Charlotte crouched next to Thomas slowly, her hand coming to rest in the crook of his elbow. Surprisingly, he didn’t shake her away; perhaps he didn’t even notice her at all, lost for a moment in a daydream of miracles and a bright future.

“Thomas” Soft words, pleading even, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt “Think this through, think carefully. If something sounds too good to be true, then it is too good to be true. If this physician is such an eminence, then why is he not sharing his discoveries in the Medical Society of London, or being named director of a large hospital? Why is he not speaking before the King and being put in the list of honours of the year? Why is he seeking his patients instead of them flocking to him?” She shook his arm, hoping to shake his senses too “This is a scam, Thomas. He is a liar. I am sorry, but you will not get better, and you know it Thomas” 

Those last words hit the sensible fibre in him. He shook Charlotte off with such roughness she lost her balance and toppled back, landing on her ass on the floor. The dreaminess had cleared from his eyes, swapped back to his usual coldness and the everlasting hint of anger, anger at the world and destiny and everything and everyone that had led him to that state.

Thomas pushed open the double glass doors with his fingers and rolled his wheelchair forward. The sun framed him, making him seem like a shadow stepped out of golden light. He lit the cigarette at last, puffing out the smoke in rings. He leaned back his head, as if relaxing to take a nap, but his eyes remained open, focused on the clear skies. He spoke the next words softly, but they resounded loud and clear for Charlotte.

“I will walk again. I know I will” A long drag of the cigarette “And if I don’t, then there is nothing left for me in this life”

[manicrouge]

Now That We Don't Talk

[ᴋʏʟᴇ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 07/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After losing a close friendship due to no fault of your own, Kyle attempts to make you feel better with a heart to heart.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 2,226

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort (sorta??????)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: The song by Taylor has me in a chokehold atm... was thinking about doing an All Too Well story with Price too, does anyone have any strong opinions on that??? Cause I feel like it would be quite a fun (and terribly heartbreaking) one to write.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). I also want all of my work together on one account to avoid confusion !!

ANYWAY, ENJOY MLS!!

It’s for the best. 

Even if it still doesn't seem like it, you fight all the thoughts in your head and try your hardest to persuade yourself that it is for the best. But on the inside, it's killing you.

It’s strange to see someone who you had spent so much time with changing overnight, but it was part of growing up you suppose. There was no way you could have maintained closeness with someone who had treated you so poorly, especially when it came to your job and what you were doing.

Kyle has told you time and time again to not stress about it.

'Everything has to end someday, sweetheart, and by holding onto it, you're just making everything hurt you more than it has to.'

The sergeant is smart, has a particular empathy that you found yourself fond of. Besides, you have a new life now, away from them, one that was filled with action, friendship and excitement. 

But it doesn't stop you walking around the base like a zombie. 

Replies from you are scarce, you're aware of that, but there doesn't seem like you can really do anything else. You hardly open you mouth anymore, simply spending all you time sitting alone with your thoughts.

Perhaps you can do something different to make things better, but contact had been patchy, you haven't been home half as much as you had been prior to being recruited into 141, and the days all seem to mould into one. In the blink of an eye, a month was gone, but when you reflect on it, it feels closer to the passing of two days more than a month.

Being busy constantly would do that, you found. There’s always something to do when you’re out on an op, whether big or small, all of it contributes towards the grander course.

While tiring and straining on relationships, you find you wouldn’t change it for the world and perhaps that was the issue. But you don’t know what you’re supposed to do, of course you love your best friend, they had been there for all the highs and lows in your life, but them acting as though you were purposefully avoiding them was the stupidest thing you have ever heard in your life. 

‘You keep thinkin’ about it, you’re gonna turn your hair grey,’ Kyle states with a disapproving look written on his face. Looking up from your bed, you look in the doorway, spotting the man leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’ve been moping around the base all week, love. Miserable sight to see, really, it is,’ he confesses, closing your door as he approaches you. Pulling a chair from under your desk, he moves it to face your bed, taking a seat.

His disappointment causes your stomach to twitch and you gulp at the thought of upsetting your boyfriend.

‘Talk to me,’ he says.

‘Got nothing to say,’ you mumble, ‘I lost a friend I always thought I would have and there’s nothing I can do about it because they’re not hearing me out at all,’ you say, 'I messed up big time.'

Your heart hurts when you see his brow furrow while listening to you rambling on about the situation he was full aware of. You have no idea why you’re even bothering to talk to him about it; he knew all the details from the times he's tried to get you to talk to him, but still, he doesn't tire of your complaints. Instead, he simply sits with you and listens. Surely he's tiring of hearing the same things over and over again, there is no way one man can be so patient.

Talking to Kyle is like being on a mission. It treacherous, the war zone in your mind escapes from your mind, spraying from your mouth like bullets, but he sits there and he listens to you like it’s his first time hearing any of the things you’re saying. Minutes meld into one another, linked together with chains of events you express, scrutinising over the smallest details as you tell him the entire story of your friendship. By now, you’re convinced that if the story were to be in a physical form, its pages would be well aged, crinkled and ripped at the edges from the amount of times you had turned the pages. The book could be ash and you would still write words in the ash in hopes to recollect on the good times in hopes to soothe the boiling anger in the pit of your stomach.

But it’s over, they told you they want nothing to do with you, and you’re still trying to think of some way to solve the problem. 

‘You’re trying to solve a problem you never caused, love,’ Kyle says softly, reaching his hand out, placing it on your knee. ‘Of course, this job comes with sacrifice, but you can hardly be blamed for focusing on work,' he says. ‘They have an issue with you spending your time wisely, and I know whenever you had a chance to call home, the first number you would put in the phone would be theirs, right?’ he asks, ‘before anyone else, you called them and you talked to them as long as you could. But at some point, you’ve gotta realise why you even picked up the phone and dialled their number in the first place,’ he says. 

You look at him with bleary eyes, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Why were they aways the first one you called? Was it from obligation or was there something else?

‘Back in Amsterdam,’ he begins, ‘you got a phone call from them during downtime, and when you picked the phone up all they did was shout at you,’ he says, ‘I don’t know all of it, but I know enough to know that they were upset at you for calling you mum before you called them,’ he scoffs, 'that's not friendship in the slightest; a friend would be happy to even know that you were safe, but they're so full of their own self importance that they don't understand that what they're doing is ruining you.'

Your eyes grow wide at his words and he quickly shuts his mouth realising what he has done. Never had you heard him carry such a tone when addressing someone from your private life. Hes always been the caring type, the one who treads lightly in the hopes of not upsetting you. But his temper has broken free and he simply sits and stares at you, taking a deep breath.

'I know you care about them, love, trust me, I can see from the way you're beating yourself up over everything that's happened, but I can't just sit here and tell you that they're a good friend,' he admits, pulling his hand from off of your knee. 'Your friendship was always on their terms, even before you were in 141, and the stories you've told me about them always include you doing something for them.'

'I've known them for so long,' you whisper, 'even though I'm not home, I just can't imagine life without them in it, you know?' you weakly ask, 'I know it's stupid, but this hurts more than being shot,' you laugh, rubbing your face with your hand.

'It will for a while, 'just how it goes when you lose a friend,' he says, 'but you've gotta stop taking it out on yourself, love. You've got all of us, right, even though we might not equate to the friend you found in them, I'll blood try my hardest for you,' he reassures, 'you don't need them anymore. You've got me.'

'I've always had you, Ky,' you say with a small smile, 'even before we started dating... remember when you used to wait for me to wake up so you could eat with me in the mess hall? Your stomach would be screaming by the time we finally got there,' you say with a laugh.

The man shares the moment of joy with you, laughing while nodding his head. 'Most embarrassing thing I've ever done,' he says.

'It worked though,' you sigh, 'I've been sitting with myself and thinking things over, and I think our friendship- even now-'

'Friendzoning me now, love?' he gasped, placing his hand against his heart. 'Thought we had something special!"

'Shut up,' you grumble, shuffling down the bed so you're closer to him, resting your calves against his thighs. 'The way you treated me since joining the force has made me realise how friendships are supposed to work.'

'Then why have you been so sad about everything, sweetheart?' he asks softly, leaning forward to take your hands in his. He looks confused at your confession, and even you're taken aback by the words that have left your mouth.

Truthfully, everything that's happened in the past few months has simply left you in a tangle of strange emotions. You can't decide if you're angry, sad, happy, or disappointed. Maybe you're all of the above and even more.

'I'm scared of what they're saying to everyone else back at home, I'm not even there to defend myself,' you confess, 'and... I've realised how stupid I've been for letting someone treat me like that, and I feel guilty for being happy that they're away from them and I'm thinking about everything the did for me and-'

'Slow down there, sweetheart,' Kyle quickly jumps in before you fall down the rabbit hole your mind has created over the past few weeks. Squeezing your hand, he exhales, 'you're tellin' me the same story over and over again 'cause you're trying to find a reason to go back to them, right?' he asks, 'this is the first time I'm hearing any of this.'

'I guess... I just feel bad for not wanting to go back to someone who has helped me.'

'Just because they did something good for you once every blue moon does not mean you owe them your friendship,' Kyle retorts, 'that's what being a friend means, you're supposed to be good to the people your friends with. But... they were only good to you when they got something out of you- remember the party they threw you when you got home?'

'The one you went to?' you ask, a chill running down your spine, 'they spent the entire fuckin' night begging for people to pay attention to them... y'know, when you left me to go the toilet, they came up to me and tried to have a go at me for bringing you back home with me,' you laugh, shaking your head.

It quiet between the pair of you for a moment as Kyle gives you a look. 'Fuck, you're right,' you exclaim, 'you are so fucking right.'

'I tend to be, love,' he joked, 'you're allowed to be upset or to be angry, fuck, I want you to be angry for the way you've been treated, but you've got to stop thinking about everyone else and start thinking about yourself,' he says, 'the friendships over and there's nothing you can do about it, but you have more important things to be focusing on.'

'I do... besides, I have you and the boys, right?'

Lifting your hand up, he presses a kiss atop of it, nodding his head with a bright smile, 'always, sweetheart. You won't be getting rid of us anytime soon,' he reassures.

A comforting silence falls between the pair of you as you take a moment to observe the man before you. How fortunate you have been to be his friend, let alone his partner. He truly gives you his heart every single day, and it is unlike anything you have ever seen from anyone else.

His love makes your heart beat against your chest and the longer you look at him, the warmer your face grows. Everything about him is perfect, you conclude, from his face to the way that his stomach growls while you're busy swooning over him.

'Are you serious?' you ask through a laugh.

'It is dinner time, love,' he confesses, 'came here to fetch you for dinner.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you say, quickly moving your legs from out of his lap, putting you feet in your boots sitting beside your bed. Looking over your shoulder as you put your boots on, you watch as he stands, moving the chair back under your desk.

''Cause you needed me more than I needed dinner,' he answers, approaching you. As you lean down to tie one of your laces, he crouches down in front of you, tying the other one. 'You good for now?' he asks, looking up at you as he ties a bow.

Standing up, he holds his hand out to you and you take it with a soft sigh, 'as long as I have you,' you say, causing both of you to crinkle your noses, 'that was cheesy, I'm sorry.'

'Just a bit, love,' he says, 'but you're good?'

'Yeah... I think life has been better now that we don't talk,' you confess, 'I've just gotta get used to it, like you said, everything has to end someday.'

Kyle nods his head and smiles brightly as the pair of you head towards the door of your room.

'Atta girl.'

[vodkawriter]

Okay so... this is an idea not the full first chapter obviously.

Thoughts???

Sam was with Jay in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.

“It's a girl!” Shouted Flower “Oh, such pretty hair she has.”

Sam smiled at her and went to open the door, she looked at the ghosts, turned and smiled before opening.

“Welcome to the Woodstone B&B!”

The young girl smiled nervously at her, murmuring a soft ‘thanks’ before following the blonde inside.

“Do you have a reservation?” Sam asked already behind the front desk, searching on the computer.

“No, actually I came here to ask you something” the girl said, nervously twisting her fingers “my name is Haven, I was born in this house fifteen years ago.”

Sam looked at her in shock, hearing the gasps from the ghosts, mainly Isaac.

“That's not possible, there was an old lady living here.”

“Well, from what I was told, she wasn't at the house in that moment” the girl stated “she was out of town for a whole year.”

“Then how is it that you were born in this house if no one was living here?” Sam asked visibly confused.

“Oh no” said Alberta before steeping closer to Sam “we should probably talk about that year.”

“I don't know” the girl said “I just know that I was born here, my parents left me at an orphanage and all I had was a letter and this” she held a heart shaped locket “unfortunately it didn't have a picture.”

All the ghosts had started to speak at the same time, minus Hetty and Trevor.

“SILENCE” Sam shouted “I mean, we need silence to have this conversation, why don't you come with me to the kitchen? I can make you a cup of tea if you'd like.”

The girl nodded, following her to the kitchen while the ghosts trailed behind them.

“Haven, this is my husband Jay, Jay this is Haven” Sam introduced them.

“Nice to meet you, Jay” the girl smiled.

“You too” Jay answered.

“Well, what does the letter say? If I may know that is.”

The girl handed her the paper and sat next to Sam.

“My dearest daughter, my beautiful princess” the girl started, knowing the contents of the letter by heart “we know you might have so many questions one day, about us and why we left you in this place. Unfortunately we won't be able to answer them, but the one certain thing we can assure you of, is that we love you, so very much.

Parting from you is one of the hardest decisions we have made.

I hope that the questions you have, may be answered one day at Woodstone.

P.s: Please don't date until you're like thirty, I know what I tell you, I'm a man.

P.s 2: Don't mind your father, but please, no Irish men.

Love, your parents H and T.”

H AND T? Sam was reading and reading the end of the letter, looking desperately at the ghosts. Especially Hetty and Trevor, both of them were looking at the girl.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Sam stood up, standing next to a shocked Jay “This is literally not possible, is it?”

“Actually, it is,” Trevor said, stepping forward, “we need to talk about that year.”

“We must” Hetty whispered, her eyes never leaving the young girl. Her auburn hair a match to her own, her blue eyes just as blue as hers “because she is Trevor's daughter… and mine too.”

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 8

Cleithrophobia: The fear of being trapped.

Pairing: Yandere Male Drider OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, Spiders, NonCon Touching, Possible NonCon (depending on reader’s interpretation), Implied Female Reader (although it doesn’t really factor too heavily into the plot), Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 7  Index Chapter 9

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas! Kind of an odd gift, granted, but I wanted to get this one out because I will likely not have the next one out for about two weeks. Once again, thank you for reading and following the story! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, then I hope you have a lovely weekend!

This story was inspired by cobalt-sphinx's Drider x Reader from Quotev.

Each step you took felt like you were marching to your death. Every breath you inhaled felt like your last. Every sound you heard, every shadow you saw in the corner of your eye... you thought it was him. 

You had to fight every instinct in your body screaming at you to run. But you had to speak to him. You had to understand the whole story. If you knew why he left, and why he came back, it would be easy to talk him out of doing any more damage. With your hand in your jacket, firmly gripping Stan’s revolver that you had stolen from his room before you left, you marched towards Mars’ den. 

The clearing. You had reached the spot where the two of you had made so many memories with each other, both good and bad. Making yourself step into it was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You looked around with your lantern but he was not there. You listened intently but heard nothing. Had he moved his den to another part of the fore- 

“[Y/N].” 

You audibly gasped as his voice sounded from directly behind you. Without thinking, you dropped your lantern and ran to the other side of the clearing, where you stared at him in the dim evening light. 

He looked... horrible. He had lost so much weight, and his skin took on a deathlike pallor. All the work that you had taken to restore his hair had been undone, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“...Mars?” you spoke softly, both out of shock and the desire to prevent provoking any sudden movements. 

“[Y/N]…" he shambled forward. “You traitorous little whore.” 

“Mars, what’s wrong? You look... very sick.” You resisted the urge to take a step back but held your hands out to signal that you meant no harm. “Please, just- tell me what’s the matter.” 

“You’re leaving. You do all of this to me, and then you have the audacity to try to leave.”  

...What? He wasn’t making any sense. You haven’t even seen him for months; how could you possibly be responsible for his current state? 

“Mars, I- I don’t understand. I’ve been leaving food out for you- didn’t you see it? If you think I’ve been neglecting our arrangement, then I’m sorry, but that’s not the tru-” 

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch!” He shouted as he lunged forward. You cried out as he got closer. Then he laughed humorlessly. “That’s right, we made a deal, heh, you agreed to it. You have to feed me every night. You said that you would... No, no... you’re not leaving. You’re not going anywhere.” 

You scrambled to think of a way to explain yourself. “Listen, please understand! I’m not leaving you, specifically, but I can’t stay here either. I’ve... look, I’ve hurt a lot of people, and I’ve been ruled by my fears for my whole life. There’s is... thing, inside of me, and I need to confront it. I need to come to peace, and to do that, I need to go back to my home!” 

He stared at you, unblinking, while you spoke. It didn’t seem like he had registered a single word that you said. If he were a human man, you would’ve thought that he was extremely drunk. So you tried another tactic to calm him down. 

“When it’s over, the exact second that it’s done, I will come back here-back to you. I swear to God, I will do it!” 

He smiled sardonically and shook his head, his many eyes still never leaving yours. “Liar. Liar, liar, [Y/N]!” He took a step forward as you whimpered. 

“Is... is it the food?! I can... I’ll explain it to Stan and Laura! I’ll convince them bring it to you!” 

“No.” 

“Please! They’ll never have to know about you, if that’s what you want! I’ll just tell them to leave it here. And then I’ll come back- and I will come back, I promise! - and I’ll start doing it again! I’ll stay and talk to you, all night long! Or I’ll leave you alone, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it!” You honestly had no idea what you were saying at this point. The crazed look on his face was worse than anything you’d ever seen before. Before, he was a predator playing with his prey. But now... he barely seemed aware of the world around him. 

“What I want... is you.” 

“Please, I-” 

“I don’t want anything else!” He shrieked, “I just want you!” 

His voice resounded through the woods with a startling clarity. It was as though his words ended the bout of insanity that he had been caught in. You watched as, very slowly, the realization of what he just said dawned on his face. He collapsed on the ground, his large body thudding heavily and his eight legs kicked up clumsily as he wrapped his arms around his torso. 

“I don’t understand...” he admitted after a long stretch of silence. “I was so happy, I had everything that I needed. These were my woods, and then...” he looked up at you, with such a deep-seated resentment in his eyes, “...and then, you came along. I can’t... I can’t do anything anymore! Hunting used to bring me joy. Building my den used to bring me joy. Watching the sunlight through the leaves, or the changing of the seasons – that used to bring me joy! And now none of it-” his fist pounded the ground as he yelled, “None of it! - brings me anything! It’s just you, now, I just think about you all day long. From the moment I wake up, to the moment I fall asleep! And even then... you’re in my dreams! You’re torturing me!” 

He ducked his head down as he calmed his breathing. When he at last looked back up at you, you saw that his eyes were filled with bitter, unshed tears. 

“You ruined my life... and for that I will never forgive you.” 

You felt your own tears begin to fall at his confession. Suddenly, it all became so clear.

Mars was violent, mean spirited, egotistical and oftentimes abusive. He had no right to be as cruel to you as he had been thus far. But he was also an intelligent, thinking creature. He had the ability to understand fear, and to feel it as well. And now, looking at him crumpled on the ground and struggling to maintain his composure, you understood that he was trapped in a cycle, a prisoner of his own mind, and he was afraid that he could never escape it. 

You reacted to your fear by running away from it, whereas he lashed out. 

“Mars...?” You took a tentative step forward. “Mars... I- there is no way that I could ever properly tell you how sorry I am.” Another step. “I... I had no idea that you were going through this.” Another step, and you offered him your hand. “But it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to live like this. You can be happy again.” 

He eyed your outstretched hand with suspicion. “You’ve made me weak.” 

“No!” You were quick to assure him. “No, not at all. Mars, I don’t think you’ve realized it, but there have been many big changes in your life since we met.” He didn’t even have a name, for God’s sake, so it was safe to assume that you’re the first sentient creature that he’s had any interaction with. Or at least the first in a very, very, long time. To go from being entirely alone, to having a friend that you depended on... you imagined that it would be a shock to the system. You crouched down to his level, hand still outstretched, but didn’t encroach on his personal space. 

“I understand that you’ve been hurt, and feel afraid-” 

“-Hurt?” he breathed to himself. “Afraid? ...So weak, you’ve made me so weak...” 

“...No, Mars, please listen to me. This is not a weakness! And you are not-” 

You yelped as he grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, your forehead smacking against his shoulder. You stayed very still as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck and let out a shaky exhale. He was holding you so tightly, and the coarse hairs of his arachnid body were scratching your skin. The two of you sat like that for several awkward moments. 

Then you heard whispering. He was saying something, to himself, but it was too inaudible to make out. 

“...Mars?” you whispered gently, too nervous to break the silence that had fallen over you. He didn’t respond. You tried again as you lightly tried to pull away... 

Hot, searing pain coursed through your neck as you felt his fangs pierce your flesh. You screamed out in terror and tried to push him away, but his jaws had you locked in a vice grip. The more you struggled, the more you felt his fangs tear into the deeper muscles by your collarbone, so you had no choice but to go limp in his arms, all the while still screaming. 

“Mars! Stop it! Mars!” for the briefest of seconds he began to let go, and you hoped that he was listening to you, but those hopes were dashed when you realized that he was just moving to bite another spot. This series of events continued over, and over again, with him keeping you pinned against his chest, attacking your neck and shoulder with painful bites, and you, shrieking and begging for mercy. 

You had lost your breath from screaming and were beginning to feel light-headed, with the sensation of hot blood dripping down your chest and back and the sounds of Mars’s lips smacking against your skin being the only thing you could focus on. You had been reduced to weak cries at this point. It took you a moment to realize that Mars had also been reduced to leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over the spots where he had bitten you in a very intimate way, almost like a lover would. 

His panting heavy in your ear, he began to move his hands up and down your back, trying to feel every inch of it as closely as he could, with his cold fingertips hard and digging into your skin. He hadn’t stopped kissing you, but now he was moving down from your neck. 

The implications of what was to come gave you an adrenaline boost.  You took advantage of Mars’ distracted state and threw yourself away from him with all your strength, managing to fall back onto your ass. He stared you in surprise, but you wasted no time, immediately hopping to your feet and socking him in the jaw as hard as you could. He cried out in shock and his face turned to the side, but by that point you were gone. You had already turned on your heel and ran away as fast as your little human legs could possibly go. 

It was so dark, the forest was so dark, and it was impossible to see when you were too busy screaming and crying like a banshee. You didn’t know where you were going, you just needed to get away. You ran blindly through the brush until, by some miracle, you ended up back at the farm. You kept going, legs and lungs burning up as you narrowly avoided the new rabbit hutch that you and Stan had built together only a few days ago.  

You bolted straight to the main house in your panic. You tripped up the stairs to the porch, landing on your knees with a grunt of pain, and crawled to the front door. When you began to pound on it with both of your fists, the blood – your blood, which had smeared off of Mars’ face and onto your knuckles when you punched him, stained the wood. 

“Help me! Please, for the love of God, someone help me...!” 

[angelicglib]

✧.* Now That We Don't Talk *.✧

[ᴋʏʟᴇ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 26/12/23

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After losing a close friendship due to no fault of your own, Kyle attempts to make you feel better with a heart to heart.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 2,226

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort (sorta??????)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: The song by Taylor has me in a chokehold atm... was thinking about doing an All Too Well story with Price too, does anyone have any strong opinions on that??? Cause I feel like it would be quite a fun (and terribly heartbreaking) one to write.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

ANYWAY, ENJOY MLS!!

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

It’s for the best. 

Even if it still doesn't seem like it, you fight all the thoughts in your head and try your hardest to persuade yourself that it is for the best. But on the inside, it's killing you.

It’s strange to see someone who you had spent so much time with changing overnight, but it was part of growing up you suppose. There was no way you could have maintained closeness with someone who had treated you so poorly, especially when it came to your job and what you were doing.

Kyle has told you time and time again to not stress about it.

'Everything has to end someday, sweetheart, and by holding onto it, you're just making everything hurt you more than it has to.'

The sergeant is smart, has a particular empathy that you found yourself fond of. Besides, you have a new life now, away from them, one that was filled with action, friendship and excitement. 

But it doesn't stop you walking around the base like a zombie. 

Replies from you are scarce, you're aware of that, but there doesn't seem like you can really do anything else. You hardly open you mouth anymore, simply spending all you time sitting alone with your thoughts.

Perhaps you can do something different to make things better, but contact had been patchy, you haven't been home half as much as you had been prior to being recruited into 141, and the days all seem to mould into one. In the blink of an eye, a month was gone, but when you reflect on it, it feels closer to the passing of two days more than a month.

Being busy constantly would do that, you found. There’s always something to do when you’re out on an op, whether big or small, all of it contributes towards the grander course.

While tiring and straining on relationships, you find you wouldn’t change it for the world and perhaps that was the issue. But you don’t know what you’re supposed to do, of course you love your best friend, they had been there for all the highs and lows in your life, but them acting as though you were purposefully avoiding them was the stupidest thing you have ever heard in your life. 

‘You keep thinkin’ about it, you’re gonna turn your hair grey,’ Kyle states with a disapproving look written on his face. Looking up from your bed, you look in the doorway, spotting the man leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’ve been moping around the base all week, love. Miserable sight to see, really, it is,’ he confesses, closing your door as he approaches you. Pulling a chair from under your desk, he moves it to face your bed, taking a seat.

His disappointment causes your stomach to twitch and you gulp at the thought of upsetting your boyfriend.

‘Talk to me,’ he says.

‘Got nothing to say,’ you mumble, ‘I lost a friend I always thought I would have and there’s nothing I can do about it because they’re not hearing me out at all,’ you say, 'I messed up big time.'

Your heart hurts when you see his brow furrow while listening to you rambling on about the situation he was full aware of. You have no idea why you’re even bothering to talk to him about it; he knew all the details from the times he's tried to get you to talk to him, but still, he doesn't tire of your complaints. Instead, he simply sits with you and listens. Surely he's tiring of hearing the same things over and over again, there is no way one man can be so patient.

Talking to Kyle is like being on a mission. It treacherous, the war zone in your mind escapes from your mind, spraying from your mouth like bullets, but he sits there and he listens to you like it’s his first time hearing any of the things you’re saying. Minutes meld into one another, linked together with chains of events you express, scrutinising over the smallest details as you tell him the entire story of your friendship. By now, you’re convinced that if the story were to be in a physical form, its pages would be well aged, crinkled and ripped at the edges from the amount of times you had turned the pages. The book could be ash and you would still write words in the ash in hopes to recollect on the good times in hopes to soothe the boiling anger in the pit of your stomach.

But it’s over, they told you they want nothing to do with you, and you’re still trying to think of some way to solve the problem. 

‘You’re trying to solve a problem you never caused, love,’ Kyle says softly, reaching his hand out, placing it on your knee. ‘Of course, this job comes with sacrifice, but you can hardly be blamed for focusing on work,' he says. ‘They have an issue with you spending your time wisely, and I know whenever you had a chance to call home, the first number you would put in the phone would be theirs, right?’ he asks, ‘before anyone else, you called them and you talked to them as long as you could. But at some point, you’ve gotta realise why you even picked up the phone and dialled their number in the first place,’ he says. 

You look at him with bleary eyes, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Why were they aways the first one you called? Was it from obligation or was there something else?

‘Back in Amsterdam,’ he begins, ‘you got a phone call from them during downtime, and when you picked the phone up all they did was shout at you,’ he says, ‘I don’t know all of it, but I know enough to know that they were upset at you for calling you mum before you called them,’ he scoffs, 'that's not friendship in the slightest; a friend would be happy to even know that you were safe, but they're so full of their own self importance that they don't understand that what they're doing is ruining you.'

Your eyes grow wide at his words and he quickly shuts his mouth realising what he has done. Never had you heard him carry such a tone when addressing someone from your private life. Hes always been the caring type, the one who treads lightly in the hopes of not upsetting you. But his temper has broken free and he simply sits and stares at you, taking a deep breath.

'I know you care about them, love, trust me, I can see from the way you're beating yourself up over everything that's happened, but I can't just sit here and tell you that they're a good friend,' he admits, pulling his hand from off of your knee. 'Your friendship was always on their terms, even before you were in 141, and the stories you've told me about them always include you doing something for them.'

'I've known them for so long,' you whisper, 'even though I'm not home, I just can't imagine life without them in it, you know?' you weakly ask, 'I know it's stupid, but this hurts more than being shot,' you laugh, rubbing your face with your hand.

'It will for a while, 'just how it goes when you lose a friend,' he says, 'but you've gotta stop taking it out on yourself, love. You've got all of us, right, even though we might not equate to the friend you found in them, I'll blood try my hardest for you,' he reassures, 'you don't need them anymore. You've got me.'

'I've always had you, Ky,' you say with a small smile, 'even before we started dating... remember when you used to wait for me to wake up so you could eat with me in the mess hall? Your stomach would be screaming by the time we finally got there,' you say with a laugh.

The man shares the moment of joy with you, laughing while nodding his head. 'Most embarrassing thing I've ever done,' he says.

'It worked though,' you sigh, 'I've been sitting with myself and thinking things over, and I think our friendship- even now-'

'Friendzoning me now, love?' he gasped, placing his hand against his heart. 'Thought we had something special!"

'Shut up,' you grumble, shuffling down the bed so you're closer to him, resting your calves against his thighs. 'The way you treated me since joining the force has made me realise how friendships are supposed to work.'

'Then why have you been so sad about everything, sweetheart?' he asks softly, leaning forward to take your hands in his. He looks confused at your confession, and even you're taken aback by the words that have left your mouth.

Truthfully, everything that's happened in the past few months has simply left you in a tangle of strange emotions. You can't decide if you're angry, sad, happy, or disappointed. Maybe you're all of the above and even more.

'I'm scared of what they're saying to everyone else back at home, I'm not even there to defend myself,' you confess, 'and... I've realised how stupid I've been for letting someone treat me like that, and I feel guilty for being happy that they're away from them and I'm thinking about everything the did for me and-'

'Slow down there, sweetheart,' Kyle quickly jumps in before you fall down the rabbit hole your mind has created over the past few weeks. Squeezing your hand, he exhales, 'you're tellin' me the same story over and over again 'cause you're trying to find a reason to go back to them, right?' he asks, 'this is the first time I'm hearing any of this.'

'I guess... I just feel bad for not wanting to go back to someone who has helped me.'

'Just because they did something good for you once every blue moon does not mean you owe them your friendship,' Kyle retorts, 'that's what being a friend means, you're supposed to be good to the people your friends with. But... they were only good to you when they got something out of you- remember the party they threw you when you got home?'

'The one you went to?' you ask, a chill running down your spine, 'they spent the entire fuckin' night begging for people to pay attention to them... y'know, when you left me to go the toilet, they came up to me and tried to have a go at me for bringing you back home with me,' you laugh, shaking your head.

It quiet between the pair of you for a moment as Kyle gives you a look. 'Fuck, you're right,' you exclaim, 'you are so fucking right.'

'I tend to be, love,' he joked, 'you're allowed to be upset or to be angry, fuck, I want you to be angry for the way you've been treated, but you've got to stop thinking about everyone else and start thinking about yourself,' he says, 'the friendships over and there's nothing you can do about it, but you have more important things to be focusing on.'

'I do... besides, I have you and the boys, right?'

Lifting your hand up, he presses a kiss atop of it, nodding his head with a bright smile, 'always, sweetheart. You won't be getting rid of us anytime soon,' he reassures.

A comforting silence falls between the pair of you as you take a moment to observe the man before you. How fortunate you have been to be his friend, let alone his partner. He truly gives you his heart every single day, and it is unlike anything you have ever seen from anyone else.

His love makes your heart beat against your chest and the longer you look at him, the warmer your face grows. Everything about him is perfect, you conclude, from his face to the way that his stomach growls while you're busy swooning over him.

'Are you serious?' you ask through a laugh.

'It is dinner time, love,' he confesses, 'came here to fetch you for dinner.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you say, quickly moving your legs from out of his lap, putting you feet in your boots sitting beside your bed. Looking over your shoulder as you put your boots on, you watch as he stands, moving the chair back under your desk.

''Cause you needed me more than I needed dinner,' he answers, approaching you. As you lean down to tie one of your laces, he crouches down in front of you, tying the other one. 'You good for now?' he asks, looking up at you as he ties a bow.

Standing up, he holds his hand out to you and you take it with a soft sigh, 'as long as I have you,' you say, causing both of you to crinkle your noses, 'that was cheesy, I'm sorry.'

'Just a bit, love,' he says, 'but you're good?'

'Yeah... I think life has been better now that we don't talk,' you confess, 'I've just gotta get used to it, like you said, everything has to end someday.'

Kyle nods his head and smiles brightly as the pair of you head towards the door of your room.

'Atta girl.'

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

[kingsofeverything]

rufus stuff

last night wasn't the best. he wouldn't settle down so i gave him another half pill and eventually he did go to sleep but not until he'd wandered the house with me and checked on all the kids repeatedly and gone outside to stare at the moon and into the darkness. his night vision is going so idk what he's seeing. he's 9 1/2 which is young in my mind but i guess it's really not.

whenever i leave the house he loses his mind, even if he's not alone, like if i run to the store across the street and the kids are all home, he still freaks out. i've started giving him half a pill if we're all going to be out at the same time, and i think that helps as long as i give it to him with enough time before i leave. he still freaks out but settles down pretty quickly vs the time i accidentally closed my bedroom door before leaving the house and he forgot i'd left and tried to tear the door down and i came home to paint chips all over the floor in front of my door where he'd been scratching at it.

anyway this is just really hard. i think because it's really unexpected. i didn't even know dementia was a thing with dogs, but i guess i'd never really thought about it.

he's not a small boy. he's about 70lbs and all leg and fur and sometimes at night he forgets how to get in bed. he has a stool that's cushioned and stable that he uses but i have to convince him to step on it. i bought a ramp but it sucks and he hates it so i put it away.

chonky doesn't know what to think. he's so obnoxious with her, barking late at night and it's like he's talking to her like COME OUTSIDE WITH ME AND LOOK AT THE DARKNESS! LET'S BARK AT THE MOON! and she goes with him outside because he won't leave her alone until she does, but then he runs off and she turns around and comes right back inside like sighhhhh and gets back in bed.

today he's walking around the house a lot. i've asked the kids to keep their bedroom doors open which is a big ask for 16 and 18 year olds, but they love him and they invite him in and they walk him around and dote on him. they pour him chicken broth when he's obviously thirsty and panting and won't drink water and they pick his clumps of hair off (he's blowing his coat) because he doesn't want to be brushed.

the vet said that the hardest part of this is losing who they are. when you look into their eyes and don't see them there. we want him to be happy. not scared and not anxious. and we're doing everything we can but ughhhhhhh

i'm just sad. rufus is my sweetest boy and he's already fading and it sucks.

(also like life is killing me lately. so stressful.)

[hooked-on-elvis]

Lynn Kellogg (Marcie, the can-can girl on "Charro!") about Elvis

Interview published on Tiger Beat magazine, July 1969 issue

ELVIS PRESLEY's Hippie Co-Star Thought He Was A Square by Ann Moses

The studio door flew open and out came tall and lovely Lynn Kellogg. Her beautiful golden blonde hair hung down on her shoulders which were covered by an Edwardian style leather coat. Wide wool trousers, a fugal change and huge round sunglasses completed the output.

She looked just as you would imagine the feminine lead in "Hair," the tribal love rock musical, but NOT as you picture the can-can girl and Elvis dramatic movie "Charro!" Just the same, Lynn chose to leave her role in "Hair" on Broadway to star with Elvis in his latest film "Charro!" To be sure, it wasn't Lynn's admiration for Elvis that made her take the part!

---

CHANGED HER MIND

"Not at all!" She will blatantly admit.

"I always felt Elvis was a good singer, but I hated his songs and that hairdo." I was working with Elvis for three weeks in Arizona and one week in Hollywood that changed her mind quick.

Although four weeks isn't much time to get to know someone very well, Lynn says Elvis is such an open and warm person that he's very easy to get to know. And like!

"Once I got to know him, I found he was a very nice gentleman; and a very good actor. I've heard many directors say they would like to use him in a movie as an actor instead of as Elvis Pressley. Working with him and watching him back, I can see what they mean."

---

A NEW ELVIS

In "Charro!" Lynn guarantees the audience will be seeing Elvis the Actor, and Elvis at his finest.

"I think Charro!" is a very good film. I don't like that type of film myself because it's violent and I like to see films that set a good example. For the type of movie it is, it's very good. My new saying is, "Forget about telling it like it is, tell it like it's supposed to be!"

Lynn observed that Elvis was happiest when he was working the hardest.

"He thrives on work. Between shots we fiddled around together and we got into all kinds of harmonizing. His guitarist, Charlie [Hodge], was with him and we all sat around and sang. It was a groove. We all went swimming once at the hotel and that was fun."

---

ELVIS THE MAN

During some of the breaks and filming on the set, Lynn had a chance to learn more about Elvis The Man.

"It may surprise some to know, but Elvis studies Yoga. And he knows all about astrology. I don't know how deeply he goes into it, but he sure knows enough to carry on a lively discussion about it. I think the most important thing about Elvis is not that he knows so much about astrology or whatever, the important thing is he knows where he's at!" "One day I had a short talk with Col. Parker. I said, 'Col. what's the secret to your success?' And he said, 'First, you've got to have a talent.'"

---

TOUR OF EL'S MANSION

When Lynn finished on the film and said goodbye to Elvis he invited her to visit his mansion in Memphis. She was working in Memphis last Christmas, so she dropped by to say hello.

She became excited just recalling the experience. “What was the place like?” I asked.

"Oh! Wow! It's fantastic! He used to show it off to people, really open the door and let them in, but he had to put in new carpets every month, so he quit." "When you first pull up to the gates, the gates had big musical notes on them. Even though it's out in the country, there's traffic going by all the time in a steady stream. The house looks like Tara from 'Gone with the Wind.' Because it was Christmas time, he had blue lights outlining the house and all the way along the driveway."

---

TROPHY ROOM

"When you first go in, off the entryway, there's this one whole entire huge room and the walls are filled with gold records and mementos. Then he has two long rows of drawers, like in a record store, and each one is filled with scrapbooks. Just thousands and thousands of things!"

"I was with some friends and we only stayed about an hour. His wife, Priscilla, was there and some of his friends. We went into the living room and there's a huge double piano--I don't mean two pianos--but two keyboards on one side and it's all in gold leaf!" "His bedroom is really something else! There's a huge bed and on the ceiling he has two television sets. Then there's a button that you push and armrests come down. There's also two radios in the control panel." "He said he wanted to show us his 'closet,' and he just laughed and laughed and he led us into this huge room. That was his 'closet'. It was so wonderful, because he was enjoying all this is much as we were!"

Lynn has kept very busy since filming "Charro!" She has just finished guesting on "The Jonathan Winters Show" and "The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour."

Article published by Ann Moses on her Facebook page on August 25, 2021

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Choking On Truth

Red Leather and Running Mouths

Danger's Bitch

Soda, Cigarettes, and Broken Glass

Broken Doll

Bitch Barbie Cooties and Golden Fountains

Fuzzy Gazes and Bruising Grips

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: top (sub) Col, bottom (dom) Dom, needy boys, rough sex, anal sex, degradation, insults, topping from the bottom, nervous Dom, multiple orgasms, bruises, slapping, rough play, refusing to admit feelings, dumb boys, teasing, unsafe sex, too much lube, size kink, body worship, Dom being a contortionist, lots of admiring and a little fluff 🚬 rating: explicit af

Dom was shaking. He was standing in his lover's bedroom, water from their shower drying on his skin as he watched the older man watch him, and he was shaking with anxiety. Colson was watching him with the softest eyes and hardest cock, those long fingers teasing over his abs as if he too was nervous and self soothing. He didn't know why the hell he was so worked up, it wasn't like he'd never been fucked. There were some Kells knew of and some he'd probably throw a bratty bitch fit if he found out about. He'd not really penetrated men himself before the rapper- it always seemed silly. If he was going to sleep with someone who could hit his prostate and make him see stars why would he waste the opportunity on using his dick?

No, the handful of men he'd been with had done exactly what was scaring him and it felt so dumb to him that he was nervous. He understood why to switch finally, every time he got to watch his best friend come alive because of him he understood why it was good to be verse but that was the one thing they hadn't done and he wasn't quite sure how to let himself. He ran a hand through his wet hair and he watched his sub's dick jerk at the way his muscles moved, his hole clenching in response. Well his body was certainly ready.

"We don't have to." The man tried to soothe and Dom rolled his eyes. After all he'd just done to make him work for it and now he was going to say something like that?

"Oh yeah? We don't 'ave to? I don't 'ave to do summat? Ya fink I don't know tha'? Wanker. Course I fucking know. But if ya need for me is so little ya can jus' let it go…" He trailed off with a growl and turned to go back in the bathroom, completely ignoring the frustrated noise his partner made.

"You're such a bitch! You know I didn't mean it that way! I was trying to help you feel better. Now get your ass back in here and on my dick! I've waited over a god damn year for it, you won't make me wait another fucking second!" For just a moment Colson was his normal self, he was the man who stood on stage and shook his hips and told girls to call him Daddy. For just a moment he felt his ego return and the cockiness came naturally but then Dom stalked back into the bedroom with a look on his face he hadn't seen since the first night he got fucked.

The punk stayed silent, his nostrils flared and his lips as thin as they could become. He wasn't shaking anymore though and that was all the man was trying to do. He had to drop his head to hide a smirk. Fuck was he in for it.

"Wha' the fuck did you jus' say to me whore? Wha' 'appened tha' made you fink you get to demand any part of me? You? You me bloody pet, you me fuck doll if you lucky and you fink you get a say? I obviously ain't taught ya well enough."

"You wanna spank me about it or do you want to see what it feels like when I wreck your fucking guts?" Kells was panting but he tried to keep his voice steady. He was terrified to talk to his Dom like he was but in a way it felt even more like when they were just friends. They used to mess with each other a lot even though he'd always been a little subby for his lover. It was obvious in interviews, he wasn't that puppy for anyone else.

Dom's brow arched and he took a deep breath. He was on fire for the bastard back talking him and felt somehow safer at the thought of letting him be top. Col wasn't just his brat, he was his best friend. His protector for years. Somehow the bitch wasn't backing down though and so he thought he'd try a different tactic. He felt his shoulders drop, his face softening to a more bored appearance. He crossed his arms and stalked closer to the bed, his hips swaying. He made sure to part his lips and tilt his head. "If you fink you can fuck me right you can try. Such big talk for a virgin." His purred words got the reaction he wanted, his love was about to explode but he started speaking again before the man could go off. "You fucked some girls sure, you the master of tha' I suppose but luv, I'm a whole new world. And I am very particular about 'ow I like it. Wha' if I fink less of yas after? Wha' if I gotta be 'onest and tell yas someone fucked me better? I don't wanna 'ear ya whining about it."

Kells fought a whimper and felt his ego dropping, that warm fuzzy feeling building in his mind that he got every time Dom degraded him. "I can do it." He almost slurred, still so gone from their shower play. His voice still rasped. He could still feel the ghost of a squeeze around his neck and every time he swallowed it made him drool from need. He crawled closer, staying as low as he could. That was his place, under his dominant.

"Oh yeah?" Dom purred, cupping his lover's cheek. He could feel how much he'd dropped him already and it was exactly what he wanted. "I dunno. Ya know 'ow it works sure but… I'm selfish when I'm getting it. I'm demanding and needy. If you don't do it right I'll be disappointed." He sighed and Kells actually snorted.

"Sorry but… how's that different from normal?" The slap across his face was worth it and he relished the burn. The next touch was soft again though and Dom pulled him closer, their breath mingling between them. "I can do it. Please?"

The singer nodded, moving even closer as if he would kiss him but he stopped short. Fuck he needed that boy more than air which he was quite sure he'd proven in their shower. When Dom went to move away a fear crept into his chest and he reached for his hand as he pushed up on his knees. The punk made a soft squeak of a noise when he was tugged back and before he could make a word of protest Colson kissed him. His hand tangled into that weirdly sexy skunk hair and he pushed his tongue past the other man's pillow lips. Their slick chests stuck together, their hearts racing. He didn't let Dom go until he was moaning and then he smirked against that gorgeous mouth. "Fine. Sit like a good boy." The boy huffed but his voice was thready and his cheeks were flushed.

Col obeyed and he crawled back to give the kid room. He watched as Dom found some lube and chunked it at him. It smacked his chest and fell to the bed and as he picked it up and popped it open, drizzling it over his shaft his lover was bouncing nervously. There was something adorable about it. "How do you want me?" He hummed, letting the viscous fluid dribble down before he smeared it around. Before he could look up he was slapped across the chest with a twirled wet towel and he shuddered, moaning low. "Thanks." His voice broke but he wiped his hands and tossed it away, he knew he probably wasn't supposed to enjoy that but he couldn't give a fuck. His lover made him enjoy everything. Dom could put all his basketball friends to shame with that thwack- fuck there was a welt already forming.

"Stay like tha', on ya knees. I'll uh-" Dominic took a breath, he knew he shouldn't be as overwhelmed as he was but he crawled into the bed and moved closer, rolling over once he reached the man. The moment the back of his thighs touched his lover's skin he jumped, he couldn't help it. Fuck if he didn't keep his walls up he didn't know what would happen. He might even say something silly. It hit him why he was so scared suddenly, he'd been fucked before but only by friends, he hadn't let a man inside him that he could see himself… feeling for. He knew how much emotion could creep up in the moment- he had a very sensitive spot and was blessed with the ability to reach multiple orgasms and he knew in that oxytocin fueled moment he might say something he never really had before.

"Hey, focus up Daddy." The voice was gentle but the touch on his plush thighs was anything but. When Kells gripped his hips and yanked him closer his train of thought vanished but his frustration with his brat mounted again. "There you are." He smiled, one of his hands slinking down between his cheeks.

"'Ey, no. I don't need prep." He huffed as one finger circled his hole and he watched as the man's cheeks flushed. Fingering was too much like kissing and kissing was too much like making love.

"So you're that kind of slut. I get ya." Colson teased and Dom laughed, pinching his inked ribs. "What? You're the one saying you're open. I'm just… assuming."

"You realize I fucked you wiv'out prep, yeah? Tha' cute lil virgin ass. Maybe I'm trying to be nice to you? Ya see 'ow it's-" Before he could finish with 'to your advantage' the rapper was already moving. Somehow the thought must have not struck before but his eyes lit up and his eagerness was obvious in the strain of his muscles not to rush.

"Yeah but you were a kinky shit that night." The man grinned but before he could do more Dom stopped him.

"I'm a kinky shit all the time luv and you jus' need to 'old steady for me." Colson's brows furrowed but he obeyed, pushing his thumb against the base of his cock to hold it straight and still. He choked on spit in the next moment when Dom threw his legs over Col's shoulders and moved himself, teasing his- needier than he'd like to admit- hole against his lover's tip. He stared up at the man as he bit his lip and fought not to thrust but that was what he loved about his pet, his fight.

The first press in took Col's breath away, he could feel himself start to shake harder as a sweat broke out over him. The noise was filthy wet, he'd definitely put too much lube on but he didn't know if Dom liked to ache too. His gaze dropped to where they were joined and he watched as he started disappearing inside the boy. He didn't know what was more captivating, how the punk's hole parted for him and swallowed him deep or the way Dom's cock jerked and drooled a steady puddle of precum on his belly the further Kells sank inside him. He couldn't help a few needy noises escaping, he couldn't completely control himself and he knew that was what his dominant loved.

Dom couldn't breathe, his body felt on fire at the stretch as he pulled himself down on his lover. He could feel how captivated the man was and it made his pulse quicken as Col's fingers shook where they held him gently. He'd seen and touched and tasted the rapper's cock so many times before and he always knew it would feel intense but he couldn't have prepared himself. It was immense and exactly what he'd always wanted. He had a passing thought that nothing would ever measure up but he pushed it away as he pushed himself flush against those strong thin hips. He tried to breathe but as Kells jerked and twitched inside him he swore it was all the way through his guts and choking him from the inside out. He couldn't show that though. "Well, ain't you gonna f-fuck me?" His voice was thin but he tried to keep it strong. He couldn't show how affected he was. He couldn't let his brat know he had any power over him but fuck- "You got a nice cock."

Sweat dripped into Colson's eyes but he felt his gaze fill with joy as he grinned down at his top. He had to be honest at least with himself, no matter how many times he would ever get to bed the boy, he'd never be top. "You're a bossy ass bottom. But I always knew you'd be a size queen." He teased, winking down at his best friend, calling back to the moment that got him the boy to begin with.

"You ain't seen nuffin yet but if ya don't move I'll-" Dom's growl broke off in a whimper when Colson knelt over him and pulled out enough to thrust deep. He'd never really heard that kind of sound from the kid and it was so sweet he instantly craved more. His palm pushed gently at one of the punk's thighs, leading one down but he kept the other tossed over his shoulder as he pressed close. Dom could take it.

"Yes Daddy." He purred, his hips finding an easy rhythm though he knew he couldn't stay slow. For just a moment he let himself feel in control and he closed his eyes to focus on the feel. Dom was so tight, his inner walls clenching and hot, the slick glide in and out was almost too much to handle. He could feel himself throbbing and he could feel every place he hit inside his lover but before he could fall too deeply into his fantasy there was a hand in his hair gripping and pulling him closer.

"I fhought you was fucking me? Who you-"

"Don't even. I was feeling you. You feel-"

"You get flowery and I pull off and you don't finish even if I do."

The rapper huffed and tried not to roll his eyes though it was tempting, instead he sped his pace and showed his dom what he could do. The boy moaned, a high soft noise that had obviously been forced out of him but Kells fought to find it again. "Stop looking at me like tha'." Dom growled, his own body moving in tandem until their thrusts were just this side of pain. The noises echoed off the walls, their skin slapping like thunder and Colson's sweat dripped over the singer like rain.

Dom fought himself not to feel too much but with every plunge deep he was pushed closer. For him an orgasm like that was overwhelming, and he could tell what was building might destroy him. His nails scratched down inked skin as if he could physically fight it off but his lover just groaned and begged for more. His thighs squeezed tight, his muscles trembling but he worked to control himself as long as he could. "Still bored?" The rapper joked, his hips snapping evenly as if he could do it forever but Dom could feel himself melting already.

"Eh, n-not so bad. Could be better if you was faster." He sighed, trying to keep his mental walls up tight but his inner ones gave him away. The man above him sped and he clenched tight, crying out when Kells angled right for his spot. His spine arched, his cock begging for attention but he might actually sob if anything touched him there. "De-deeper!" His voice broke but his pet obeyed like the good boy he was.

Kells bit his lip as he watched his boy squirm and he took a chance, slipping his palm under that plush perfect ass so he could pull him somehow closer. The noise Dom made was almost inhuman but he came alive more than Col had ever expected. "Don't- don't stop?" For once it was a plea instead of a demand but he would have done it either way. He made sure not to change any aspect of his thrusts as he felt his boyfriend shatter for him. His dick didn't spill but Kells had bed enough girls to know an orgasm when he saw it and he fought not to smile through his panting. There was a pride in his chest but it was overwhelmed by the beauty of his dom, the boy was a fucking revelation.

Dom knew now that his pleasure had started rolling he wouldn't catch a break or a breath until his lover came but he didn't have enough air in his lungs to command it. He could feel that gaze on him, taking in every shudder and gasp but for the moment he allowed it. It almost made the rapture stronger knowing he felt so fucking exposed. Tears welled his eyes as another wave built but his brat never slowed down. If anything he pounded him harder. Deeper. The man was a beast who couldn't seem to help but show off. The grip on his hip tightened, with every move close he pulled Dom against him and the punk was losing his control.

"Shit- better than any- any fucking pussy. Look how deep- oh God Dom!" Colson whimpered when he caught sight of his dick poking behind Dom's skin. It wasn't constant but it was a vision every time. He was near breaking but he wanted to make sure his boy knew he was still in control. "Please? Please let me-" He didn't know what sounds he was making anymore but he could barely speak over them and when Dom nodded he almost sobbed.

Colson gathered him closer, pulling him tight against his chest as he pushed Dom's other leg down and he sat up as they wrapped tight around each other. Sweat and more glued them tight almost instantly but they moved together, chasing that last peak as one. Dom's bravado had fallen away on his second wave of pleasure and all he could do was hide against his pet's neck and force out the word he needed most. "Cum."

Colson's hands gripped bruising tight as Dom's nails cut his skin. He bounced the boy as hard as he could but no amount of pounding could cover up how intimate and intense it had become between them. Kells hit that peak quietly, his harsh breath the only thing betraying his need but as white heat filled his insides and the man found his way somehow deeper in his guts Dom wasn't so silent. "Fuck- Colson?" His choked sob almost sounded like a beg and the rapper held him tighter as the punk spilled hot between them and they shook as they rode out their pleasure together.

Kells was a gentleman and scared of his lover enough he didn't comment on the tears or the way Dom clung to him. He didn't pull back and kiss him even though he wanted to, he didn't soothe him or whisper sweet nothings. He refused to ruin the moment so instead he just held his dom and panted with him, waiting for the moment they came down enough and the kid led him to however they would act next. He was learning damnit, he could be a good boy. "Better than Issac right?" He couldn't help but ask and the scoff he got in return was worth it. He knew what they felt, they didn't need words, he knew how to keep his Daddy from a panic attack. "Definitely right? Bigger too?"

"You're incorrigible." Dom huffed but smiled against his skin and he knew without a doubt he'd said the right thing.

Author's Note/Tags: @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @manicpixiedreamb0y @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it took me a bit but I am ☠️, I hope it was still good though! I tried to keep them true to their characters but let it get a little deeper. I hope it's what you hoped 🖤🚬

[angelicglibsss]

Now That We Don't Talk

[ᴋʏʟᴇ ɢᴀʀʀɪᴄᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] [ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 26/12/23 [ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After losing a close friendship due to no fault of your own, Kyle attempts to make you feel better with a heart to heart.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 2,226

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort (sorta??????)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: The song by Taylor has me in a chokehold atm... was thinking about doing an All Too Well story with Price too, does anyone have any strong opinions on that??? Cause I feel like it would be quite a fun (and terribly heartbreaking) one to write. ANYWAY, ENJOY MLS!!

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

It’s for the best. 

Even if it still doesn't seem like it, you fight all the thoughts in your head and try your hardest to persuade yourself that it is for the best. But on the inside, it's killing you.

It’s strange to see someone who you had spent so much time with changing overnight, but it was part of growing up you suppose. There was no way you could have maintained closeness with someone who had treated you so poorly, especially when it came to your job and what you were doing.

Kyle has told you time and time again to not stress about it.

'Everything has to end someday, sweetheart, and by holding onto it, you're just making everything hurt you more than it has to.'

The sergeant was smart, had a particular empathy that you found yourself fond of. Besides, you have a new life now, away from them, one that was filled with action, friendship and excitement. 

But it didn’t stop you walking around the base like a zombie. 

Replies from you are scarce, you're aware of that, but there doesn't seem like you can really do anything else. You hardly open you mouth anymore, simply spending all you time sitting alone with your thoughts.

Perhaps you can do something different to make things better, but contact had been patchy, you haven't been home half as much as you had been prior to being recruited into 141, and the days all seemed to mould into one. In the blink of an eye, a month was gone, but when you reflect on it, it feels closer to the passing of two days more than a month.

Being busy constantly would do that, you found. There’s always something to do when you’re out on an op, whether big or small, all of it contributes towards the grander course. While tiring and straining on relationships, you find you wouldn’t change it for the world and perhaps that was the issue. But you don’t know what you’re supposed to do, of course you love your best friend, they had been there for all the highs and lows in your life, but them acting as though you were purposefully avoiding them was the stupidest thing you have ever heard in your life. 

‘You keep thinkin’ about it, you’re gonna turn your hair grey,’ Kyle states with a disapproving look written on his face. Looking up from your bed, you look in the doorway, spotting the man leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’ve been moping around the base all week, love. Miserable sight to see, really, it is,’ he confesses, closing your door as he approaches you. Pulling a chair from under your desk, he moves it to face your bed, taking a seat.

His disappointment causes your stomach to twitch and you gulp at the thought of upsetting your boyfriend.

‘Talk to me,’ he says.

‘Got nothing to say,’ you mumble, ‘I lost a friend I always thought I would have and there’s nothing I can do about it because they’re not hearing me out at all,’ you say, 'I messed up big time.'

Your heart hurts when you see his brow furrow while listening to you rambling on about the situation he was full aware of. You have no idea why you’re even bothering to talk to him about it; he knew all the details from the times he's tried to get you to talk to him, but still, he doesn't tire of your complaints. Instead, he simply sits with you and listens. Surely he's tiring of hearing the same things over and over again, there is no way one man can be so patient.

Talking to Kyle is like being on a mission. It treacherous, the war zone in your mind escapes from your mind, spraying from your mouth like bullets, but he sits there and he listens to you like it’s his first time hearing any of the things you’re saying. Minutes meld into one another, linked together with chains of events you express, scrutinising over the smallest details as you tell him the entire story of your friendship. By now, you’re convinced that if the story were to be in a physical form, its pages would be well aged, crinkled and ripped at the edges from the amount of times you had turned the pages. The book could be ash and you would still write words in the ash in hopes to recollect on the good times in hopes to soothe the boiling anger in the pit of your stomach.

But it’s over, they told you they want nothing to do with you, and you’re still trying to think of some way to solve the problem. 

‘You’re trying to solve a problem you never caused, love,’ Kyle says softly, reaching his hand out, placing it on your knee. ‘Of course, this job comes with sacrifice, but you can hardly be blamed for focusing on work,' he says. ‘They have an issue with you spending your time wisely, and I know whenever you had a chance to call home, the first number you would put in the phone would be theirs, right?’ he asks, ‘before anyone else, you called them and you talked to them as long as you could. But at some point, you’ve gotta realise why you even picked up the phone and dialled their number in the first place,’ he says. 

You look at him with bleary eyes, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Why were they aways the first one you called? Was it from obligation or was there something else?

‘Back in Amsterdam,’ he begins, ‘you got a phone call from them during downtime, and when you picked the phone up all they did was shout at you,’ he says, ‘I don’t know all of it, but I know enough to know that they were upset at you for calling you mum before you called them,’ he scoffs, 'that's not friendship in the slightest; a friend would be happy to even know that you were safe, but they're so full of their own self importance that they don't understand that what they're doing is ruining you.'

Your eyes grow wide at his words and he quickly shuts his mouth realising what he has done. Never had you heard him carry such a tone when addressing someone from your private life. Hes always been the caring type, the one who treads lightly in the hopes of not upsetting you. But his temper has broken free and he simply sits and stares at you, taking a deep breath.

'I know you care about them, love, trust me, I can see from the way you're beating yourself up over everything that's happened, but I can't just sit here and tell you that they're a good friend,' he admits, pulling his hand from off of your knee. 'Your friendship was always on their terms, even before you were in 141, and the stories you've told me about them always include you doing something for them.'

'I've known them for so long,' you whisper, 'even though I'm not home, I just can't imagine life without them in it, you know?' you weakly ask, 'I know it's stupid, but this hurts more than being shot,' you laugh, rubbing your face with your hand.

'It will for a while, 'just how it goes when you lose a friend,' he says, 'but you've gotta stop taking it out on yourself, love. You've got all of us, right, even though we might not equate to the friend you found in them, I'll blood try my hardest for you,' he reassures, 'you don't need them anymore. You've got me.'

'I've always had you, Ky,' you say with a small smile, 'even before we started dating... remember when you used to wait for me to wake up so you could eat with me in the mess hall? Your stomach would be screaming by the time we finally got there,' you say with a laugh.

The man shares the moment of joy with you, laughing while nodding his head. 'Most embarrassing thing I've ever done,' he says.

'It worked though,' you sigh, 'I've been sitting with myself and thinking things over, and I think our friendship- even now-'

'Friendzoning me now, love?' he gasped, placing his hand against his heart. 'Thought we had something special!"

'Shut up,' you grumble, shuffling down the bed so you're closer to him, resting your calves against his thighs. 'The way you treated me since joining the force has made me realise how friendships are supposed to work.'

'Then why have you been so sad about everything, sweetheart?' he asks softly, leaning forward to take your hands in his. He looks confused at your confession, and even you're taken aback by the words that have left your mouth.

Truthfully, everything that's happened in the past few months has simply left you in a tangle of strange emotions. You can't decide if you're angry, sad, happy, or disappointed. Maybe you're all of the above and even more.

'I'm scared of what they're saying to everyone else back at home, I'm not even there to defend myself,' you confess, 'and... I've realised how stupid I've been for letting someone treat me like that, and I feel guilty for being happy that they're away from them and I'm thinking about everything the did for me and-'

'Slow down there, sweetheart,' Kyle quickly jumps in before you fall down the rabbit hole your mind has created over the past few weeks. Squeezing your hand, he exhales, 'you're tellin' me the same story over and over again 'cause you're trying to find a reason to go back to them, right?' he asks, 'this is the first time I'm hearing any of this.'

'I guess... I just feel bad for not wanting to go back to someone who has helped me.'

'Just because they did something good for you once every blue moon does not mean you owe them your friendship,' Kyle retorts, 'that's what being a friend means, you're supposed to be good to the people your friends with. But... they were only good to you when they got something out of you- remember the party they threw you when you got home?'

'The one you went to?' you ask, a chill running down your spine, 'they spent the entire fuckin' night begging for people to pay attention to them... y'know, when you left me to go the toilet, they came up to me and tried to have a go at me for bringing you back home with me,' you laugh, shaking your head.

It quiet between the pair of you for a moment as Kyle gives you a look. 'Fuck, you're right,' you exclaim, 'you are so fucking right.'

'I tend to be, love,' he joked, 'you're allowed to be upset or to be angry, fuck, I want you to be angry for the way you've been treated, but you've got to stop thinking about everyone else and start thinking about yourself,' he says, 'the friendships over and there's nothing you can do about it, but you have more important things to be focusing on.'

'I do... besides, I have you and the boys, right?'

Lifting your hand up, he presses a kiss atop of it, nodding his head with a bright smile, 'always, sweetheart. You won't be getting rid of us anytime soon,' he reassures.

A comforting silence falls between the pair of you as you take a moment to observe the man before you. How fortunate you have been to be his friend, let alone his partner. He truly gives you his heart every single day, and it is unlike anything you have ever seen from anyone else.

His love makes your heart beat against your chest and the longer you look at him, the warmer your face grows. Everything about him is perfect, you conclude, from his face to the way that his stomach growls while you're busy swooning over him.

'Are you serious?' you ask through a laugh.

'It is dinner time, love,' he confesses, 'came here to fetch you for dinner.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you say, quickly moving your legs from out of his lap, putting you feet in your boots sitting beside your bed. Looking over your shoulder as you put your boots on, you watch as he stands, moving the chair back under your desk.

''Cause you needed me more than I needed dinner,' he answers, approaching you. As you lean down to tie one of your laces, he crouches down in front of you, tying the other one. 'You good for now?' he asks, looking up at you as he ties a bow.

Standing up, he holds his hand out to you and you take it with a soft sigh, 'as long as I have you,' you say, causing both of you to crinkle your noses, 'that was cheesy, I'm sorry.'

'Just a bit, love,' he says, 'but you're good?'

'Yeah... I think life has been better now that we don't talk,' you confess, 'I've just gotta get used to it, like you said, everything has to end someday.'

Kyle nods his head and smiles brightly as the pair of you head towards the door of your room.

'Atta girl.'

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

[faceglitchsworld]

It's the 15th of April!

Happy, Happy Birthday Arthur 🥳

As always here's the collage I made for him 😌

I have only one thing to specify about this collage. I've choose the selfies for a certain reason 🤭

One selfie was posted during one of my mutuals' birthday, the other one almost the same day he finally came back last year 😭

And one of the pics here is one of my screenshots in case you're wondering 😅

The letter is here now

Ok, first thing first what made me fall in love with our squirrel is mostly how he looks sooooooo good with floofy hair. I will not hide it, I like wavy and curly hair, like a lot and Arthur has the perfect face for it. It doesn't help that GF knew it too since he's literally the floof king in his own album. But in general every time he has curly hair he makes me cry 😭 He's so adorable, so cute, so squishy, so... ARTURITO.

And since we're here, it's better explaining why I keep calling him like that 😅 Or well, the reason is actually very, very simple. Because first he looks much younger than me, despite sharing the same age as mine. And also because we have like 15 days of difference, I can easily call him little brother if I want to 🤣

And it doesn't help that he acts little when he makes his own vlogs 🥺 I think you already saw them but the fact that he acts all shy, especially in the first minutes makes him so adorable for real 😭 And it's not helping that Dann knows it and he decides to act all big brother towards him 🤣 Their friendship is so adorable and the fact it lasted for so many years proves how much they care and love each other. That's why I made their selfies the friendship core of his collage.

But wait, I think I should also talk about how he's mesmerizing when he performs. If you watched his solo videos where he dances all alone you can clearly see why he immediately shines. Every group has that dancer that you immediately notice when they perform and Arthur is THE ONE. Maybe it's because he takes the hardest parts or maybe it's just his charisma but you immediately see Arthur. Even if he's not your bias, you'll always end up seeing him. You can't escape him. Especially because he has a sword, it's better if you notice him or he'll slice you in pieces 🤣

Dear Arthur, we reached the end of this letter. I don't have much to say here, I'm a young fan and, compared to other ones who probably saw you since you debuted, I've probably missed some details or messed up something. But I can assure you that I made this letter completely out of love and appreciation. Probably in a couple of years I'm going to regret it and I'll write a much longer letter, who knows 🤣

My birthday wish for you is that you'll be healthy and strong for the next years and so on. Last year you went on a long break because of your health and I hope it will never happen anymore. Eat a lot, do daily check-ups and rest every time you can. Hope you'll spend an amazing day with the members and Kingmes too.

Happy birthday, tiger squirrel 🐿🐯

[thewritingautisticat]

Here's a quick oneshot I wrote about my OCs from Days of Resistance. Enjoy this little introduction to them! Thank you to @the-ellia-west for inspiring me to post it, and @sparkles-rule-4eva for being my beta reader ☺️☺️❤️❤️❤️

(still thinking of a name for this oneshot because that's the hardest part of writing honestly😅)

Days of Resistance oneshot

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, mild/"offscreen" violence

Kidnapping him was their first mistake.

Rough hands slammed Peg down into a chair. The ropes binding his arms behind his back cut tightly into his wrists. They finally pulled the hood off his head. Peg blinked against the sudden light. They were in a small room, empty except the wooden chair he was in and the four men standing around him. The rest of the kidnappers must have been outside.

"Heh. Thought the key to forcing information out of the most infamous revolutionary in the country would be a little harder to get," one of the thugs said. He stared over Peg with a smirk. "We sure this is the right kid?"

"It's the right one. Who could mistake a face like that?"

Peg flinched at the obvious reference to his deformity. Thirteen years of being scorned and abused for it, and the sting still never dulled. But that was quickly swallowed by the fear flooding through his chest. He'd been around thugs his whole life. He knew when they were safe and when they were dangerous. And these men were dangerous.

His mouth was dry and he could barely breathe. He swallowed, fighting to keep calm.

The talk continued around him. "Think he'll show?"

"He was told to be here with the information if he ever wanted to see this little Freak alive again."

"You told him where we are?" Peg asked.

The talking paused, the men turning in surprise at the first words their prisoner had dared to say. One of them sneered at him, his yellowed teeth cruel in the light. "Yeah. And he should be along any moment now."

All the fear drained away immediately. Caldren knew where he was. Peg forced himself not to grin. That was your second mistake.

"That is, if he's even coming for you," the man continued. He leaned in, shoving his hand under Peg's chin and tipping his head up. "Who'd wanna come for a Freak like you, anyway?"

Peg felt another twinge at the too-familar slur, but chased it away. He'd heard it enough. What did it matter at this point? He tilted his head, staring at the man right in the eye. "Caldren'll come for me."

If he was positive of anything in this world, he was positive of that.

The man laughed, loudly, and hissed in his ear, "Don't be so sure." He stood up and stared at him. "Almost hope he doesn't. We could have some fun with you."

The others laughed too. "Y'know, I hear you can get good money for Freaks," one said. He grabbed Peg's hair and yanked his head back, eying him like goods at a market. "Yeah, I think we could get a lot for you at a freak show."

Peg gritted his teeth and blocked out their voices. None of what they said mattered. It wouldn't be long now.

"You won't have the chance," he said.

The first man circled him like a street dog with its prey. "Real brave type, huh?" He glanced at the others with a smirk. "You don't think we'll get in too much trouble for damaging the merchandise, do ya?" He turned and struck Peg on the side of the face. The impact nearly knocked him off his chair. The man laughed again.

Tears of pain came to his eyes. Peg kept his head tucked down, biting his lip at the stinging heat that spread across his face and ear. Head still lowered, he stared up at the man standing over him.

That was your third mistake.

Sudden loud yelling, and then a thud, came from outside.

Peg smiled. He was here.

The men all turned to the door, drawing their weapons. More crashes, yells, sounds of fighting.

The door slammed open. A young man dressed all in black stood in the opening. Tall, muscular. Hood pulled low, shadowing his face. Blood dripped from the dagger in his hand.

Caldren Deschamps. Revolutionary. Criminal. Assassin.

Most importantly, his big brother.

Caldren's stare was dark and glaring, radiating pure, deep fury. But his face softened the moment his eyes rested on Peg. His eyes scanned him quickly, and a soft exhale escaped his lips. Then his face grew hard and cold again. "Did they hurt you?"

"Don't worry, he's fine," one of the men said.

"I didn't ask you," Caldren snapped, his gaze never shifting from Peg. "Did they hurt you?"

"Not much," Peg said quietly.

Caldren's eyebrows lowered, his face as cold as ice. He looked up and addressed the others. "You have exactly five seconds to untie him."

"I'll consider letting him go. If you give me the information I want." The main thug chuckled. More men appeared in the doorway behind Caldren.

Caldren's grip tightened almost imperceptibly on his dagger.

And that was your last mistake.

His voice was calm and quiet, almost soft. "Peg, bud, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and hum really loud for me, okay?"

Peg took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

He pressed his eyes close. He didn't like the violence. It scared him. But he trusted Cal completely.

The only thing that came to mind to hum was the lullaby Caldren sang to him when he had a hard time sleeping. So he hummed it, deep in the back of his throat and nose, pulling his head down so he could at least press one ear closed against his shoulder.

It didn't block out the noises of violence, but it muffled them, some.

Peg squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and concentrated on the words to the song in his head.

“Little bird

Starshine in your eyes

Here's my song

Fall asleep in my arms

It won't be long

“I'll hold you close

Til the morning comes

I'll sing my song

Soon the sun will rise

It won't be long"

The noises stopped. Peg quieted his humming and listened.

"It's safe now," came Caldren's voice.

Peg opened his eyes. He focused only on Caldren, who was kneeling in front of him, staring at him so softly. He didn't look at the bodies on the floor, or the blood on the walls. He only looked into his brother's eyes.

Caldren wiped his hand on his cloak, then reached out and softly cupped Peg's face with one hand. Peg leaned into the touch. Caldren's thumb stroked his cheek.

With his other hand, Caldren reached around to cut the ropes from his wrists, then dropped the dagger. He wrapped his arms around Peg, pulling him tightly against his chest. Peg clutched onto his big brother, pretending not to feel the damp blood on Caldren's clothes.

It didn't matter now. He was safe. These hands would never hurt him.

"I've got you, bud," Caldren whispered.

He scooped Peg up in his arms, standing up and carrying him out of the room.

Taking him safely home.

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E: Moments - Part 2 - Eddie's P.O.V at the café (Set in 2020)

Tags: @piratewithvigor@tantamount-treason@thedollmaker16@janetreader

This takes place when Eddie meets Kirby at the café in part 1

Also, Kirby is still Orange. Italics are inner thoughts.

Eddie's P.O.V:

"I… Mox said I should apologise for pissing you off earlier." Eddie mutters, it's a lie but he has the confidence to act like it isn't.

"Apology is not required. I'm busy." Kirby grumbles, her eyes fixed on her laptop.

"Then…" He tries to think up a good reason to stay in the café, "lemme buy you lunch to say sorry and to avoid me gaining an enemy."

"Sure, you can sit with me too, just don't annoy me further, Mister?"

Oh, she doesn't know my name, "Eddie. Kingston. You don't have to bother with any formalities or fancy words."

"Alright then, Eddie, no gimmicks as we're in public, right?"

No gimmicks, so you actually want to know me, Eddie Moore, and not Eddie Kingston? Alright then, "I'm Eddie Moore. Friends call me Eddie, Ma calls me Edward and enemies call me Asshole." He gives her a soft smile when she looks at him.

He takes the opportunity to further take in her looks, beautiful, out of my fuckin' league. Sandy blonde hair which ends in an amber ponytail, which she keeps tied low. Thin eyebrows that have definitely been filled in with a brow pencil, but not overdone, and dark blue eyes, blue eyes like pools I could drown myself in. A few small scars on her otherwise perfect nose, perfect for a wrestler, no signs of previous breaks. Her lips look kissable, I could see myself makin' out wit' her for hours. Her pale skin marked with the scars from many years in the ring. I hope she knows how fuckin' pretty she is. He clears his throat and speaks before his brain can make him back out of the situation.

"So, what's ya name? I heard ya friend call ya 'Kirby'."

"I'm Kirby Rhydderch, or to the audience, Kirby Lucifarian."

Oh Jeez, that's a very hard surname to say, how do you pronounce that, "Rid…" fuck, don't think out loud, idiot, make small talk, keep her attention, "where ya from?"

"Llanfaethlu, Anglesey… Wales."

That's why her surname's impossible to say, she's Welsh. Are all Welsh women this pretty? Focus, Eddie, "Oh, you're that Welsh girl that Mox was talking about, the female Andre." Shit, don't tell her that, thanks Jon, gonna get me in trouble with a hot chick, again.

"He calls me that?" From her tone of voice alone, he can tell that the comparison annoys her.

"Better female Andre than female Doink, right?" I'm sorry, don't hate me, hate Jon, he came up with the female Andre thing.

Kirby chuckles softly, shaking her head and looking at him, "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

Oh you can get me somethin' hot stuff, ya number. Focus Eddie! "Nah, I'm buying, whatever you want."

He listens to her order, repeating it in his head as he gets up to buy it for her. after buying her stuff, he tries his hardest not to stare at her, but she's all he can think about.

She's tall, no duh Eddie she's a giant. She's quiet but fuckin' strong, she's a wrestler of course she looks strong. Does she smoke, probably not but Ma would like that about her. Ma would like a lot about her, we can't introduce her to our Motha we don't know if she's even single and I ain't makin' her go anywhere near dad not a pretty girl like that. She's gotta have a boyfriend, or girlfriend it's 2020 she could be gay, God please tell me she likes me.

He grabs the drinks and heads back to the table, trying to maintain his confident front., "No luck on the food, sorry."

"Well, beggars can't be choosers or so they say." She shrugs.

Her mind's drifted somewhere, she's managed to shrink herself down more, I hope I ain't makin' her afraid of me. Wow, she's got a nice sticker collection all over the back of her computer, "That's a lot of stickers."

“I collect them, I travel a lot because as you know wrestling takes you to a lot of places and I need this for work and private stuff so it comes with me and thus it’s gained… personality, for lack of a better explanation.”

"Gotcha," he nods, "it's got a life of it's own, so you add stickers to make it look like it." He smiles softly as he sits across from her.

[regallibellbright]

Dead Kid Crochet: The Planning Stages

So. First matter of business: Scope. This is EVENTUALLY gonna be the core five original TWEWY kids (Neku, Shiki, Joshua, Beat, Rhyme,) the Wicked Twisters who aren't returning party members (Rindo, Fret, Minamimoto, Nagi, Shoka,) and Eri (because I want to do Eri.) Shiki will be in her RG form either way; if I decide to do Neo looks for the returning cast (with the exception of Sho who gets Neo regardless for party member consistency and also I think his Neo design will be slightly easier for me to do detailing for rather than his original non-Taboo one,) I'll also need to figure out a Neo Eri design one way or another. The thing is I am willing to do that. Either way, this is probably going to be a project where I take active years to do it (because... ELEVEN FUCKING CHARACTERS,) taking breaks for others in between since these designs are not, by and large, going to be easily translated to crochet. This will be partially by difficulty (Rindo's going last because of his coat, Joshua will most likely be first because I don't expect him to give me much trouble regardless of design and Beat is the most likely second,) and partially with me doing it by game (Fret probably isn't THAT hard all told but I'll be saving him until after the original cast are done.)

Below the cut, I think through the pros and cons by character.

Neku:

Either way, he's going to be a difficult one, but for very different reasons. For Original Game, see that vertically-striped cowl, and consider that loose belt of his. (Seriously Neku IT'S FALLING OFF WHY.) For Neo, plaid. This actually doesn't look TOO bad to me compared to some of the plaid we'll be seeing later on, but it is A LOT of plaid and it'll be a pain in the ass. Now, fortunately for me I consider these types of challenges fun, because once I came to the conclusion I wanted a Shoka and an RG Shiki all of this became inevitable. The collar on Neo Neku's coat is going to be a challenge in its own right. On the other hand, what the fuck even are the fasteners on his original shoes, where did he even FIND those. I think I have a slight lean towards the original game's design, but it's SLIGHT, and I think I'll end up having fun with his design either way.

Shiki:

Either way, this isn't going to be a challenge. I will have a harder time microcrocheting a Mr. Mew for her (because, obviously.) The original skirt pattern looks a bit harder even to simplify than the T-shirt dress graphic from Neo, but we're talking a matter of degrees here. The glasses are probably going to be one of the trickier parts either way, but given I managed the Tutu pendant I'm not too concerned with Shiki. I currently favor Neo's design slightly since the pattern on her dress IS going to be simpler and also we can ACTUALLY SEE HER FACE. (Why didn't the anime give us her face?)

Joshua:

The hardest thing for this one is going to be color sourcing. I'm going to have to DECIDE HIS EYE COLOR, and probably paint them myself unless I suddenly decide I like pupils with my amigurumi eyes (I generally don’t.) I actually suspect I'm going to be able to find a color for his hair without as much trouble as I could, but his original shirt with that weird lilac-gray? That... might be troublesome.

Fortunately, his design itself? Much less of an issue. I've done things very similar to either hairstyle in the past, so I feel pretty confident I'll be able to get them now. The stars on his Neo shirt will be on the tricky side, but that's the ONLY hard part. I have a distinct lean towards the original design here, but it's not definitely strong enough to outweigh what I'd like about having a fully-matched set of Neo designs.

Beat:

Okay, you'd think the biggest challenge is, looking at my amigurumi, that it would be difficult to make an adequately buff Beat. That is a concern but I'm pretty sure working him on a larger hook and adding a few rounds to make sure he's taller than everyone else will do it. His Neo design might be a bit easier than his original one, but I suspect his beanie wouldn't be TOO bad. Either way I think I could have fun with his chain accessories - I can now do a little bit of crocheting with wire, and I suspect by the time I get to him (first wave, but first wave will be months from now,) I'll have gotten enough better at it to at least know what I'm doing. I would have to find black wire of an adequate gauge for the original design... hm...

I don't have a strong preference for Beat's either way - both of them should be pretty doable and pretty fun.

Rhyme: I'll be honest, I think the hardest thing about Rhyme either way is making oversized sleeves with the way I do hands. Since I'd DEFINITELY be simplifying out details on the shirt either way, but it's easier to simplify MORE for the Neo design, the original top would actually be a fair bit harder than it looks. As would that tiny skull pin. The Neo shoes are easier too. On the other hand, both designs have details I think would be fun to play with - the jacket's probably harder, but I do find it EXTREMELY Gender and would have fun playing with the layers either way. I think I’ve got a slight preference for Neo, but it’s not in proportion to how difficult the design would be.

Eri:

Only gets one picture, because of course, the challenge with using a Neo Eri is that Neo Eri Does Not Exist. Gets to be represented here by Shiki because it was easier for matching everyone else, but the irony here is not lost on me. The challenge with normal Eri is that those vertical stripes are harder than horizontal ones. (Why can nothing be easy?) I've done heels before so it's actually not TOO bad in that respect. With Neo Eri, I’ve got a couple ideas for Reel and Deal based off Gatto Nero’s in-game items that I could probably translate to a doll, but it’d still be new to be designing a character like this basically from scratch.

Everyone’s pendants should be equally tricky if I’m doing original designs - Beat, Rhyme, and Eri - so they’d probably all be simplified on the grounds of “this is the best I could do,” a la Tutu, where we call it good that they have SOMETHING in the right color and size.

I’m not doing both designs for everyone. I’m not inflicting THAT on myself. So I have to decide one way or another.

[tjsplace]

Apr 29

10 am

still so much shit to do. even though i'm going at the speed of light it feels like sometimes. blondie plays in the background. rapture. i've been so obsessed with benny that i hadn't listened to anything else since saturday, till this morning. today is monday. i'm high and i think that's a bad sign. i gotta talk to my therapist today about my anxiety skyrocketing apparently. i don't notice it a lot in my emotions, but i do take a lot of bad decisions. like not eating before a party and then drinking and smoking weed till i was so nauseous i almost threw up and then came back home at 1.30 am. that's early for me. i've been more careful with my money though. i guess. but also getting high in my room a lot. i was alone all weekend at our apartment. i missed my roomies. then one of them came back last night and we drank beers and got high. what other stupid things have i done the past week? i bought weed on wednesday, i think. or maybe it was thursday. a gram, and there's none left since yesterday afternoon. my hands are cold because i smoke cigarettes in my room. i feel so guilty about money, even though my mom said i shouldn't. but i did go to the gym twice last week, that's cool. i procrastinate a lot. but, like i said, i'm still doing a lot. just not fast enough. but i'm not supernatural. i don't have endless amounts of energy. i gotta remember that. i've been trying to write the song (golden blue) but i'm not convinced by the verse's melodies. or chord progressions in that section. i really like the chorus though. the war on drugs starts playing. thinking of a place. the song is eleven minutes long and it feels shorter. because it's that good. not a dragging moment. what do i want to do? i should rehearse. vocal exercises. shit. i'm not sure if i have the energy. i mean, i do. i know i do. but the hardest part is always starting. maybe i'll feel better but i can't move. i'm not depressed, maybe a little down. or just tired. i woke up, took a shower and washed my hair. i went out to buy cigarettes and then made sure everything was okay with our document (for a class) and sent it. we didn't have class because our teacher had a problem with the production schedule of something, i guess. what else today? is that an acceptable amount of activities to do before 10 am? or is it too little? too much? i never know. i wonder this stuff all the time. am i acceptable? i talked with my grandma the other day and she said "everyone can do whatever they want, as long as it's correct." like, morally correct i guess she meant. something that's right. and it weighed down on me because i think i think like that too. judging everything, but also being told by my roommate that i'm not judgemental at all, and she likes that about me. interesting. maybe it's because i'm too hard on myself and i don't want others to feel like that because of my words or actions towards them. i think i need to read this to my therapist. maybe that would help. i've gotten good at translating in real time. that's cool too.

10.33 am

why is it that the tarot is always so fucking right? i got current status: three of wands. reversed. resistant to change. task: the empress. reversed. creative blocks. solution: five of pentacles. reversed. all about money. i think it's pretty spot on. except i also feel like i'm working each of these. i'm trying to be more open to change. i don't know if i'm succeeding though. i'm trying to cut through the creative blocks by caring less about what others think. i'm still worried about money, and i'm trying to not feel guilty. i don't know. maybe i deserve to feel guilty. fuck.