#who spun the first fibre

[raccooninapartyhat]

rotating the concept of tree bark fibre as the oldest surviving example of spun fibre and how it continues to be used to this day in my mind

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Not Yet

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [Masterlist]

Summary: ~0.6k, fluff, humour

Warnings: Cursing

>>>>——————————>

The airport, that's only destination on your mind and you were currently on the verge of missing the deadline when speeding through the city in your hero attire.

It just so happened that timing was not on your side, an unfortunate coincidence when an explosion rattled your eardrums the moment you passed the local jewellery store. With a pained sigh and a curse sent to fate, you spun to meet debris littering the street and excited thieves stumbling out of the building.

"Are you kidding me?!" You chastised them like children being caught red handed at the most inopportune time which left the criminals snapping to your imposing figure in complete shock.

"Crap it's (H/n)!"

"How'd they get here so fast?!"

"Doesn't matter, with four against one we can take 'em."

For once you'd hoped the criminals would make it easy so you could make it in time to meet your boyfriend at the airport. Dynamight was required for a mission abroad, and had left the week you'd started dating - all these years of friendship finally developed into something more and neither of you had the chance to act on it.

They regretfully put up a fight with their dangerous quirks, each aiming for a fatal blow which only agitated your further. Bit by bit with each brocading event, you were slowly losing any remaining semblance of patience you had left in the fibres of your bones.

"Stand still and die already hero!"

"You don't get to kill me today - I haven't even got to kiss my boyfriend yet!" You yelled utterly frustrated, temper snapping, and quirk flaring to maximum strength.

They chose the wrong day, the wrong time, and the wrong damn hero. In an instant you'd taken the quartet down, tied them up, handed the stolen items over to the authorities, and disappeared before any outlet could get ahold of your for an interview after filming the fight.

Unfortunately for you, such a slip was broadcast live across monitors littered around the city and as you raced through the streets dodging them, the boyfriend in question found himself staring it down with a flush of his skin.

Still Bakugō Katsuki maintained a proud smirk with his bags slung over his shoulder, even more so when noting the quiet bustling of surrounding civilians all wondering just who your mysterious boyfriend was. The media would certainly be following you a little more closely from now on but you weren't stupid enough to let them catch you out.

It's why he wasn't surprised when loading his belongings into the awaiting taxi that he was embraced by a force of wind, lips suddenly occupied by an unfamiliar warmth that he could only smile into. He gladly reciprocated however, hands finding purchase on your body and a satisfied hum escaping him. Pulling away, you met his gaze, your own slightly more unnerved considering you'd kissed him out of nowhere like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Uh— welcome home?”

"One hell of a first kiss, knew you wanted me bad." It was spoken with a hint of victory, thumb running across your bottom lips as he teased you. Instantly you created a distance, glaring at him with a defeated sigh which he could only laugh at.

"You saw the broadcast, kill me now."

"I can kill you, since you've finally kissed your boyfriend."

It'd be a while before you gave him the privilege of a kiss again, instead punching the smug bastards’ arm and getting into the taxi together.

It'd be a memorable first kiss of your relationship certainly, and that video would undoubtedly be used to taunt you in the future, but right now you were glad to have Katsuki home.

Almost as happy as he was to see you.

Almost.

<——————————<<<<

[mykneeshurt]

Sorry

Keegan Russ x F!reader

Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, explicit smut, angst

———

‘Are you FUCKING joking?’ You screamed as you threw your very expensive vase at the wall. Keegan ducked, his cat like reflexes once again barely managing to save him. ‘You’re such a fucking liar! Fuck you!’ You stormed over to him, pushing him in his broad chest. Pure unfiltered rage pumped through your veins as you stared at the man before you.

The man who told you he loved you.

The man who made you feel safe.

The man who you allowed yourself to love.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered, eyes glazed, the steel blue of his irises contrasted with the blood shot white of his eyes. ‘You’re sorry?! You’re fucking sorry?! Keegan you lied to me for six months. I fucking fell for you and this whole time you were using me to spy on my father. I don’t think sorry quite cuts it. Do you?’ Your voice was venomous.

‘I didn’t mean for this to happen.’ You pushed him again. ‘What? Letting it get this far? Or falling for me in the first place?’ Every limb, every fibre of you was shaking. Your mouth was dry, your eyes hurt from crying, your heart shattered into jagged shards of glass.

‘I … uh’ he stuttered.

‘I … I …’ you mocked ‘fuck you Keegan. Get out.’ As you turned to walk away he grabbed your wrist, instantly you spun round, the palm of your hand making perfect contact with his cheek. ‘Don’t touch me. We’re done.’

‘No’ he muttered as he stood defiantly in your living room. ‘Fuck you mean no? Keegan, I don’t want to see you ever again. I never ever thought you’d hurt me. But here we are.’ Your voice was low, almost a whisper. Turning again he gripped your wrist, ‘please don’t make me go.’

Tears pricked your eyes, your tired swollen eyes. You sighed, still allowing him to keep a hold of you. Your lungs felt so tight, they strained to breathe. Your bottom lip quivered as you sighed into the empty living room. The living room where you had your first kiss, where you would play fight, where he held you when your father had a fall.

Yet it was all a lie.

‘Keegan … I can’t … please let me go’ murmured, voice straining from the emotion. ‘I can’t. I can’t let you go. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. I’ve tasted you and I don’t want anyone else. I want this. I want you. I want us.’ There was a soft thud behind you. Turning round you saw him on his knees, brows furrowed, lips pressed together.

‘Get up Keegan’ you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. ‘I’ll beg if you want me to’ he said, eyes never faltering from yours.

‘I don’t want that. I want you to go.’ He slowly rose to his feet, still holding your wrist. He closed in on you, the warmth from his body permeated your tired bones. Even feeling so angry at him his presence still soothed you, still offered you safety. You hated your body for betraying you.

Looking up at him through tear stained lashes your heart ached, your stomach twisted and turned. An unwavering abyss of emotion coursed through your body. His face was contorted, twisted with pain. He raised a hand to your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. You leant into his touch, these hands had killed people, but to you they were your sanctuary.

‘Keegan’ you whispered, your rage now confusion. He lowered his lips to yours, hovering above them, ‘I’m sorry.’ Your lip quivered at his words, you believed him, reluctantly, but it didn’t absolve him from his lies. He gently pressed his lips to yours, now cradling your face with both hands. You sank into the kiss, your mind and heart fighting against one another.

Your hands found his waist, pulling him closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, that you would regret it. But your heart told you to keep going, that you loved each other, that you needed to feel something other than rage.

That you need him.

Lifting his shirt slightly you grazed your hands along his skin, his soft, scar littered skin. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slowly worked with yours causing you to moan softly. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, your head fuzzy.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he picked you up, walking you slowly to the sofa. His footsteps seemed to echo in the now silent apartment. Sitting down he kept you straddling his hips, his hands rubbing your back under your t-shirt. You placed your hands on his shoulders, his broad firm shoulders. Instinctively you rolled your hips, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans.

He groaned into your lips, using his hands he pushed your hips down urging you to grind on him. Breaking the kiss you threw your head back as he kissed and nipped at your neck, ‘fuck I need you’ he whispered.

‘I fucking hate you’ you retorted, still grinding on him, your panties now soaking with arousal.

‘Liar. You want me.’

‘No, I wanna fuckin punch you.’

‘Stop lying’ he moaned as he pulled off your t-shirt and bra. He gently kissed your collar bone before holding your chin, forcing you to look at him. The silence between you was deafening, both trying to read each others faces.

Reigniting the kiss you pulled at his shirt, removing it he threw it behind him as he placed you on your back. He made fast work of your jeans before sliding a finger against your core. ‘Oh fuck’ he whimpered as he bit his lip. ‘Take em off’ you ordered arching your back.

Pulling them off he then made fast work of his own. You pulled him back into a kiss, this time it was desperate, sloppy. Lining himself up he pushed into you, ‘fuck’ you moaned breathlessly. As he began to move you wrapped your legs around him holding him against you. He buried his face in your neck, ‘feels so good baby’ he whispered.

Staining your skin with kisses your bodies moved together, each thrust of his cock filled you as his tip grazed that spot. You could feel his muscles tense with each movement, how each one rippled beneath his skin as he fucked you. Sweat began to gather between your bodies, your arousal dripping from your stretched out cunt.

‘Harder’ you panted, ‘harder … fuck.’ He upped his pace, slamming his cock into you, his pubic bone hitting your clit. He leant back onto his knees, holding you in place by your thighs. His fingers gripping onto you with a bruising force. You watched as he jaw fell slack, biting his lips as he hissed at the sight before him. You dropped a hand to your clit, your orgasm not coming fast enough.

‘That’s it’ he praised ‘look so good sweetheart, fuck.’ Burying your face in your arm you whimpered and moaned. ‘Don’t stop Keegan, oh god!’ Placing his forearms next to your head he dropped down, kissing your neck. ‘So fuckin beautiful’ he muttered, ‘you look so beautiful taking my cock.’ Eyes shut you smiled as you licked your lips, he always knew how to praise you.

‘M close’ you managed to say in between your moans. ‘Keep goin baby, lemme feel you.’ He cupped your jaw as he caressed his thumb over your bottom lip, urging you to lose your self. With one final strum against your clit you lost yourself. Your body seized as your cunt pulsated around him, his eyes glistened as he watched you. An expression of awe written over his features.

‘Eyes on me’ he ordered, doing as you were told you focused on him. Gripping your hips he upped his rhythm, chasing his own release. ‘Gonna fill you, gonna fill this pussy, fuuuck’ he moaned. Biting your lip you played with your breasts, tweaking your nipples, teasing him.

With a final thrust he threw his head back, releasing inside you. Hot ropes of cum lined your walls, his cock pulsated inside you as he rode out his high. He still slowly moved inside you, pushing and pulling, overstimulating you both. Torturing your aching bodies.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, ‘can I stay?’ His voice hopeful. Cupping his face you kissed him deeply. ‘Yes. We’ll talk properly tomorrow.��

———

Taglist (y’all showed interest on my Keegan post) - @horsdutemps @lundenloves @sarcanti @averythang @tiredmetalenthusiast @kosmokenny

[koniknits]

So has anyone spun with pig hair yet

If you don't feel like DIY, you can buy the yarn here:

Translating the description for your pleasure:

OinkyStinky Hungarian Pig this is a VERY VEEEEEEERY rare combo first of all you have to find this breed of pig with long hair and then you need to have the skills to process it we were asked to research the feasibility of producing an "economical" yarn from a difficult fibre (and believe me pig is difficult in many technical regards, spinning and carding) this is the result 55% hungarian pig hair this is the fibre we are talking about and I know many of you wil say what the fuck do I need pig for I already have one here at home well... birds of a feather... 30% raw wool what that means in the industry is all wool thicker than 23 micron here we've got a mix of 23-27 micron so if you want soft this ain't it 15% other animal fibres this is basically a mix of mohair leftovers and rough thick micronage cashmere please never forget that those cashmere goats don't only have cuddly soft hair there's also quite some hard trash to be found on that goat it's still a goat, you know one more thing the hair of the pig has a typical odor a smell you can NEVER get rid of so if you have a sensitive nose STAY AWAY because non-castrated pigs just smell to the high heavens the boar (for those who failed bio that's what we call a male pig) emits this extreme musk and it's in its flesh and its hair not that you will faint or anything it's not the end of the world but let's say it smells like a gym full of teenagers jacked up on hormones

[leiyahime]

[Tutorial] How to spin and chain-ply on your drop-spindle at the same time

I've seen this technique at the Lower Saxony spinning group meet-up in June and @disgruntled-lifeform has asked about it, so here is a tutorial. I'm not comfortable with having videos of me taken and no one to take the video anyway so I hope photos are enough...

Little diclaimer: I have only seen someone else doing this so I just pass this knowlegde on. I don't know where it originates. Also: I assume you already know how to spin a single and know the basics of chain- or Navajo-plying

It's really an intreresting technique. You spin and chain-ply in one go, no endless spinning and after that endless plying, which is very practical if you (like me) are no fan of endless spindle plying. Or if you only own one spindle for whatever reason - everyone knows spindles are gregarious animals and keeping only one is not appropriate XP

You need:

A drop spindle of your choice with a leader (Maybe one a little bigger than mine, since the yarn we wind on the spindle is a three-ply, which means it is thrice as thick as your usual single.

Fibres of your choice you want to spin

It's important that your leader has a loop at the end to pull your single through.

Step 1: Spin your single as you always do. *spinspinspin* You want to do that standing up as you need the single to be quite long:

Step 2: Then butterfly the single up on your thumb and forefinger to avoid tangling:

Step 3: Pull the single through the loop of your leader and unwind it from your fingers. At the beginning it's easier to sit down for this step until you get used to the finger movements. It's difficult to pull the single through the loop while holding the spindle in your hand and we don't want any broken fingers!

Step 4: Pull the single all the way through until just a little bit below the beginning of your unspun fibres:

Step 5: Then you just ply the loop together in the opposite direction from the direction you spun the single - just as most of you will do anyways while plying. The spindle wants to turn in the opposite direction by itself anyway. Make sure the new loop at the end stays open!

Step 6: Wind the plied thread on your spindle. Then secure it well on your spindle's hook. Take Care Of The Loop. It Must Stay Accessible for the next section of spun singles.

Congratulations you have your first section of chain plied yarn on your drop spindle.

Then you repeat the whole thing again and again: Spin a long piece of single - pull it through loop - ply - wind on spindle - secure the new loop at the end on your hook and then go on spinning.

It needs a bit of practise. The lady who showed us the technique said she had been afraid of breaking her fingers when she started learning this technique. But if you have spun and plied on your drop spindle before it should not be too difficult to master. Concentrate on what you are doing and learn how to manage thread and spindle. And if you really sit down for pulling the single through the loop you also get a little training for your legs by costantly getting up and sitting down again ^-~ And when you are comfortable with the whole thing you can also do it while walking around. I, too need more practise until I'm that far.

[vintagehellfire]

Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, major character death, graves, death, no seriously there is no comfort... okay maybe mayyyyyybe if you squint, but tbh just pure hurt, based on Life Eternal by Ghost

18+ MDNI

There was no denying the pain that came with having someone ripped from you far too soon, but what was worse was being unable even to have one last goodbye, being unable to see their face one last time before their soul departed from their body and before the rot settled in. There was something akin to a knife being driven through one's chest repeatedly when the devastating news of a loved one taking their last breath was delivered, and it was made much worse when the two parties touched each other’s souls in a way that no other had been able to. 

Tears fell onto the dampened earth, the lot still fresh, disturbed. The cold granite of the headstone felt glacial and yet unreal. It was a physical manifestation of devastation and yet its existence felt completely ersatz. Not only because the stone was clean for the most part - barring the red spray paint that refused to be removed, another permanent mark on the memories of that which is lost - but also because stuck out like a sore thumb in the old and run-down cemetery, a symbol of the young loss. 

Sobs wracked your body and your breathing uneven, but how could it ever be even again? It wouldn’t be, not as you sat at your kitchen table to receive the news, not as you received the devastating emotional blow of finding out that there wasn’t a body to be recovered, and not when you were in front of his grave, knowing that he wasn’t even beneath the earth below your feet. How nobody was able to find him left your mouth drier than the Sahara - you weren’t able to hold his hand one last time, no matter how cold they would be, unable to see his button nose or hug his dying body to you as you lost him for what felt like the second time in the span of a week. You choked on your breath for what was probably the hundredth time, the hundredth time you breathed your soul out through earth-shattering devastation. 

With nobody but the sodden cemetery ground to turn to, you fisted the earth and let out a heart-shattering sob into the open air, nobody to hear you or to console you through the pain. The one person you wanted most was the one person you would never see again. The lump in your throat silenced your voice, vocal cords worn thin from the sleepless nights that you sobbed into the infamous Hellfire shirt he wore. His scent was quickly fading from it and once you had realised that you were left an even bigger wreck than you could have imagined - the last tether to him slowly fraying, the last little fibres unravelling themselves in tune to your own emotional demise. 

Your whole body shook with anger and heartbreak - you wanted to get out of this god-forsaken town, but he haunted you and this cursed place was the only thing keeping him alive. You could swear that you’d feel his hands on your shoulders while you tried to cook - the first time it happened, you called his name before the sensation disappeared into thin air, leaving you heaving for oxygen. Your food was forgotten and left to burn while your wails carried through your apartment and your eyes stung from the tears. That night you sobbed until there was no longer any breath left in your lungs, until the walls of your home felt cold and unwelcoming. 

The second time it happened, you were walking past the arcade and you could have sworn you felt his hands on your hips and a laughter-filled call of your name. That time you spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance, head whipping around to see who it was behind you, but his voice haunted you and so you pushed past everyone in your way, trying to hold yourself together enough to break down the moment you reached your car. You didn’t make it and instead, you found yourself sitting by your car’s front tire as you bawled, your body wracked with tremors. They felt never-ending – the tremors – terrorising you when you would least expect them. You longed for his arms around you again, to hear his laugh, to dance with him in your little kitchen as you did on the first night you had moved into your place. The memory only served as a painful reminder of that which you no longer had. Your body had memorised the way he held you to him, his quivering voice that told you that you’d touched his soul forever before leaning in for the most gentle kiss. The way his kiss seared into your skin was like a burn that would flare up when you least expected it, and it was clear that he too had touched your soul in a more permanent way than you had ever expected him to. 

“Eddie…” You sniffled, managing to find the capacity to croak out his name for the first time in months but the assault of tears that came immediately after you breathed life back into his name was too painful, your chest seizing, lungs collapsing on themselves as if you’d just been plummeted a thousand leagues under the dark ocean. Your life certainly felt much darker with him gone. You longed for him, even while he was around, you longed to spend time in his arms, to hear him ramble about his campaigns, about his little sheep, but now that he was gone you couldn’t help but yearn for all that you used to have with him. 

It had been months of this, of showing up to his gravestone and having to clean it from the obscenities that adorned it, a painful reminder of how little love he received for how much of it he had in his heart. You spent agonising hours scrubbing the red paint off with cleaning products and salty tears, leaving flowers and letters to him in hopes that they would somehow reach him on the other side, and yet with each passing day, the fire that lit your soul grew darker, and the yearning only grew stronger. Your jaw was in a state of constant pain from how much you were trying to hold yourself together, clenching it in both your waking hours and the moment sleep consumed you, trying to keep your very being from shattering. 

“Can you hear me say your name? Can you see me longing for you?” Your voice was hoarse, unused for far too long. You barely recognised it yourself, as if it was a third party speaking for you, projecting your thoughts for you. The moment you realised you had spoken, another wave hit you, knocking you down further than you had been before. You dug your hands into the graveyard dirt and let out a shaky breath, unable to fathom the reality that wrapped itself like a noose around your neck, slowly suffocating you. You wanted nothing more than to scream but the cry never came - your last breath was spent, it seemed, and all you could muster was a weak whimper. How could he be gone? You wondered to yourself, unable to come to terms with the devastating passing of your boyfriend. You refused to believe it, the lack of a body, he couldn’t be gone, could he? But as the days passed, your hope dwindled, and you had to resign yourself to the reality that he was gone. You had to just let go… Or so everyone seemed to preach. 

The promises you both whispered to each other in the dead of night, when the witching hour struck, and you had nothing but each other, haunted you. Sometimes you swore that you could hear whispers of his voice when you couldn’t fall asleep but ultimately it was most likely your delirious conscience that plagued you, making you hear things in the dead of night. 

“You promised…” Your sobs wracked your body, shuddering the more you tried to contain your tears, your voice completely breaking as you let go of the last ounce of strength that held you together. Your mind wandered to the sweet nothings that Eddie would shower you with, and that is what they amounted to in the end, wasn’t it? Nothing. With him gone, you didn’t have any options but to let go of those feelings, those sweet words, those promises of being yours forever. His romantic monologues and ramblings of being yours forever, and if death chose to do you part, how he’d find your soul once again from the afterlife, you had to let them go for they found themselves amounting to nothing. Death did you part, except it didn’t take you as well. 

You danced slowly in the candlelight, your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist, and his soft lips right beside your ear. He pulled you close to his body and while he was warm, his hands were cold against yours, as if he’d just come in from a cold winter’s night, but all he had done was share a joint with you, something that loosened you both up after your long day. His wild curls tickled your soft face and you giggled at some ridiculous line he was feeding you but soon the suave facade fell and his voice dropped to a low murmur. 

“Sweetheart, I love you.” His voice rattled, rattled like old windows in a summer storm, sturdy, protective, and yet stable, protecting that on the inside. “I would rip the heavens apart to find you again. I’d search for you in the afterlife if it meant I could be with you in lifetimes to come.” And while this sounded like standard Munson drivel, there was a certain intonation that inclined you to believe him. 

“I don’t think God would be too happy with you, Munson, nor the devil himself for that matter.” You tried to joke with him but it fell on deaf ears. Eddie was unrelenting with his honesty. His voice was earnest and thick with emotion when he answered you, a conviction you’d never heard before lacing itself into every word. 

“I don’t care, sweetheart, I’d fight Gods and devils alike… I’d fight Satan himself for you if it meant getting to be with you in the next life.” You couldn’t do anything but hold him closer in this moment, your words dying on your tongue. How were you to answer him when his emotions were so raw? How could you even muster up something as eloquent to say to him when he opened his heart up to you in such a vulnerable way?

“I’d raise armies to rip hell apart to find you, Eddie. I’d be longing for you forever…” You whispered to him as you both slowly danced together, the candles flickering softly, illuminating both your features in a warm glow - there was nothing more beautiful than the love you both shared, nothing more pure. 

Your forehead fell to the dank earth, lungs set ablaze by your dry heaving. You couldn’t find it in you to make this the moment you just let it go. Your soul called out for him as you longed painfully for his touch, his soft words of reassurance, but you wouldn’t get them, never again. The most you had was the little love notes he left you, his DnD notebooks… There wasn’t all too much that was left of your boyfriend, and you cherished every last thing that you had in your possession. He had touched your soul forever, whether he knew it or not. 

Your eyes burned painfully as sobs tore through your raw throat, your fingers digging further into the fresh dirt of the uprooted grave. The further you stuck your hands in, the more you prayed you’d hit something, anything, but you never would. Your hands would grow cold, and there would be a story in your heart - yours and Eddie’s - but your hands would never again find his body, never again hold him to you. They would never run through his tangled curls, or feel the plush of his lips, no, instead they’d feel the humidity seep into their bones and devour them from the inside out the longer you kept them buried, and the dirt would surely cake your fingernails to the point you wouldn’t be able to get it out from underneath them. The scent of petrichor would overtake the smell of weed, cigarettes, and his cheap musky cologne. You’d never feel his callouses graze across your soft skin again, and that small detail, the one that made Eddie so… so him, would in a year escape you, fading into nothingness as you were forced to let go of him. 

You wanted to dance with him once again, to feel the chill of his long fingers against yours but that was something that wouldn’t ever come back. Not even in the ghostings of touches, the whispers and bumps that came in the night. No matter how much those moments shattered you, no matter how much pain they brought on, the most painful would be the moment you forget the feeling of his lips or the way his hands splayed across the small of your back - those moments would disappear one day… or one day until someone came along that made you remember it, and that day would be one that would make every other touch but Eddie’s feel wrong. Nobody would have the honour to touch you in the same ways as he did. 

As you bawled into the graveyard dirt, you could have sworn there was a weight on your upper back and while it wasn’t pushing you into the dirt itself, it might as well have been. Part of you hoped it would be Eddie’s arm around you but when you turned, your body was violently assaulted by an onslaught of sobs at the realisation that your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold you while you cried. You were choking on each short breath, unable to calm yourself down. The one time you needed him more than anyone, he wasn’t present. 

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you. 

There was something so off about the whole situation, about how clinically everything was treated, about how none of his “friends” seemed to show up. The funeral was quick and dirty, arranged by Wayne and yourself in the best way you both knew and after everything was said and done, you hid away, isolating yourself from the world itself. You barely left the house. The only time you breathed the fresh Hawkins air was when you went to visit his grave or the once-a-month trip to get groceries. You should have gone to see Wayne but he reminded you too much of everything that was ripped away from you and while you yearned to visit the man and sit down with him, to speak Eddie back into existence through memories and laughter, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You couldn’t bring yourself to break your heart over and over again even though you knew that in some capacity you both needed each other in order to sew together your broken hearts. 

“P-please Eds…” You choked out, your emotions were getting away from you, the more you thought about it, about him, the more you felt like you lost your family. He was your rock, the love of your life, in your own ways you’d sworn yourselves over to each other, sworn yourselves to life eternal with one another, and so having him ripped from you so suddenly left a dark pit in your chest, deeper than the ninth circle of hell would ever reach. You didn’t think it would have been possible for 

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

The wind blew colder and you shivered, but you didn’t dare move, not an inch, because it meant moving from the grave you’d come to memorise - your muscles, your fingers, your heart, even your nose, all of you had come to memorise his grave - it was ingrained in you, and the epitaph was one that burned across your vision every single time your eyes closed – another ghost haunting you as you tried desperately to soothe your aching heart. People who say breakups would be easier are liars, you decided in this moment. 

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

They’d be easier because maybe on the off chance you’d get to have the person in your life, in your heart, you wouldn’t lose all the meaningful quirks the person had, you wouldn’t forget them in due time. You wouldn’t have a dead-end trail left of them, and yet… and yet it wouldn’t be easy either. Part of you wished you could have been the one to see the light disappear from his eyes, to have this confirmation of his departure from the mortal realm, another part of you didn’t even want to think of the darkness taking over his eyes, the reflection of the light fading to nothing, his breath stopping, and his brain giving out. You simultaneously wanted and did not want to be the one to witness his last breath, you did and didn’t want to be the one to watch the light behind his eyes disappear as he croaked, you did and did not want him gone because you weren’t sure which would wind up being easier to deal with. 

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

“I wish you were here, Eds.” You sniffled the moment your sobs slowed, your body taking too much stock into keeping you alive and warm. You had exhausted yourself and cried every last tear you had in you for today, leaving a dry husk - a shell of a human – until tomorrow when you’d replenished your tear ducks.  

I’m right here with you always. I’m not going anywhere, I promised you that not even death could do us part.A cold gust of air pushed your hair from your face and you couldn’t contain your shiver, the cold was becoming as unbearable as your boyfriend’s passing, every waking hour haunted by memories of him, every corner of Hawkins harbouring his ghost, and every unconscious moment plagued by nightmares of his last moments, twisting memories, contorting them into grotesque scenes of abject horror. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up to your knees and swallowed down any emotions you had, bringing your soiled sleeve to your face and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. You were sure you looked like you had just crawled out of the grave due to the amount of dirt that caked your body and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he was gone.

With a shaky breath, you leaned over and kissed his gravestone, your eyes fluttering shut, and at that moment you swore you heard his voice calling to you, you swore you felt the warmth of his hand on your puffy cheek, his thumb brushing across the damp valley of your eye. You kept your eyes shut for just a moment longer, longing to feel this small moment of reprieve despite the fact that it probably did far more harm than it did good. 

“I’m with you always, sweetheart.” Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped against the headstone, lip trembling as you tried to bite into it from the inside of your mouth - you couldn’t stop the heavy squeezing around your heart nor the feeling of a dark pit opening itself up in your stomach. When you lost your boyfriend a chasm had ripped itself through your chest, leaving you empty and numb to everything but the onslaught of pain that each waking moment brought you. Each waking moment was plagued with the knowledge that Eddie was gone before you were even aware of it. You hadn’t even been in town when the manhunt had begun, having been away to visit your mother’s side of the family, only to come home to find out he was in hiding - ripped away from you once, then twice. 

The fresh torrential downpour of tears was unexpected but they kept you at his grave, they kept you closer to him, they kept him alive even by some fucked up means. If crying for him meant that his memory was kept alive then you’d cry for him into the next lifetime, and while you thought you’d cried them all away, it seemed that neither love nor grief had limits.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Reading The Travels of Marco Polo:

In the same mountain occurs a vein from which is produced salamander. You must understand that this is not a beast as commonly asserted; but its real nature is such as I will now describe. It is a well known fact that by nature no beast or other animal can live in fire, because every animal is composed of the four elements. For lack of any certain knowledge about salamander, men spoke of it, and still do, as a beast; but this is not true. I will now tell you the real facts.

First, let me explain that I had a Turkish companion named Zurficar, a man of great intelligence, who spent three years in this province, in the service of the Great Khan, engaged in the extraction of this salamander and odanique and steel and other products. For the great Khan regularly appoints governors every three years to govern this province and supervise the salamander industry. My companion told me the true facts and I have also seen them for myself.

When the stuff found in this vein of which you have heard has been dug out of the mountain and crumbled into bits, the particles cohere and form fibres like wool. Accordingly, when the stuff has been extracted, it is first dried, then pounded in a large copper mortar and then washed. The residue consists of this fibre of which I have spoken and worthless earth, which is separated from it. Then this wool-like fibre is carefully spun and made into cloths. When the cloths are first made, they are far from white. But they are thrown into the fire and left there for a while; and there they turnas white as snow. And whenever one of these cloths is soiled or discoloured, it is thrown into the fire and left there for a while, and it comes out white as snow.

Me, reading:

– Hey, that sounds like - but there’s no way it is - there’s no way that’s asbestos?

Wikipedia: Yep, that’s asbestos

[trashpandacraft]

I have a question if you'd be willing to answer

I'm very much a beginner with spinning, but I recently decided to make my first project using my handspun yarn. I know it's wool, but I don't have any information on what type, as it was given all to me as gifts.

My issue is that it feels very sticky. Which I am assuming is because of the lanolin, and would be helped by washing it. I can't seem to find any resources on that though, so I was wondering if since you talk about it a lot if you could point me to any? Just normal washing in water (and soap?) seems like a recipe for felting.

I'm not sure how relevant this is to the washing process, but just in case it is I haven't plied any of this, mostly because it is already much more thick than I would like (definitely need to work on that!)

Thank you for everything! Your blog has been a huge help to me with figuring out what exactly I'm doing (or in many cases, what I'm doing wrong)

i'm gonna answer this, but i have to be honest that i've tried spinning without washing the fibre first, and i don't love it, so have very little experience with this specific thing. i'm going to give you my best guess, and then probably people who are more experienced with this than i am will tell us both why i'm wrong. (this is an invitation; i am comfortable being wrong.)

i'd wash it the first time the same way you do for washing fleece, which is going to sound scary, so before i go any further: felting needs heat, water, and agitation. you've gotta use water and heat to get the lanolin out, so all you can do here is control for agitation. don't manhandle the yarn in the water, don't run the water directly onto the yarn, don't go from hot to cold water, etc. it's honestly not that bad—once the yarn has been spun, it takes at least a little more effort to felt it. think about how heavily some people finish handspun yarns—shocking it, thwacking it, snapping it, etc. i (intentionally) fulled a singles skein a while back and went at it for several minutes with a (clean!!) toilet plunger in a bucket of hot water, and even after that, it's lightly fulled, not felted.

so to wash your yarn: soak it in water to get it fully wet, then toss it in a bath of hot (like 60c/140f) water and dish soap. dump the water after twenty minutes, and repeat until the water you're dumping is at least mostly clear, then do one more water change without soap for a rinse. i'd expect this will take several water changes—this blog post has great visuals of what it looks like as the lanolin washes away, and what kind of changes to look for in the water. you could follow their entire process, if you wanted, though it's more effort and maths than i find my situation necessitates.

which is to say that i'm sure that they're objectively correct, especially if you're working with very greasy fleece and/or hard water, but i have neither, and have chosen to go with the 'blurp some dish soap into hot water' method, which has worked fine for my admittedly very low-key uses.

so that's my best guess for how you'd wash it. i think the next question is probably when you'd wash it, and my vote for that one is going to be after you've plied it.

i have two big reasons for it. first, if there's enough twist in the yarn to ply, i think you're going to have a tangly mess of woolen spaghetti if you wash it without plying first. i'm sure that someone will suggest that you could wind the spun yarn onto some sort of Contraption that would keep it under tension and wash it like that, but: it sounds like such a monstrous pain in the ass that while you could pay me to do it, you would need to pay me an amount of money that has at least three digits in it.

the other reason is that washing will help set the twist, but my feeling is that you want the twist active for plying. i've plied yarn that i'd, uh, 'rested', we'll call it, for six-plus months between spinning and plying, and it plies...ok? not great, though, and i found it harder to get a balanced yarn. i'm guessing that washing will give similar results—yarn that's just a little more resistant to plying than it should be, and requires more management to get it to ply nicely. i don't think that it'll totally destroy your yarn or anything, but i do think that the finished yarn is likely to be less nice than it would otherwise be.

i feel like this is sort of a half-assed answer, for which i'm sorry—i'm not really my best or brightest self right now, but didn't want to let this sit.

i'm also sure that there are people here who've actually done this exact thing and can speak from experience rather than semi-educated guesses, so hopefully some of them will chime in.

[honourablejester]

Thinking about homebrew deities for ttrpgs, I’ve been pondering deities that are not default humanoid. A while back I made a post about D&D 5e’s version of Spelljammer, where the Astral Sea is littered with the corpses of dead gods, and I posited what some of those vast corpses might look like:

“These are the deities of a thousand worlds and a thousand species and a thousand forgotten realms. They might look like anything. Shaped by the echoes of the god’s nature and its domains and its species. The dead sea god that looks like a vast alien whale, whose gut is filled with strange waters and strange creatures, and into whose belly the party must venture. A forgotten deity of knowledge whose vast skull now contains a calcified, crystalline ‘library’ with aeons of knowledge written in light onto spun fibres of crystal. A deity of madness, darkness and despair whose corpse is a labyrinthine maze of passages that leech will and soul the further you venture into them, a lingering undead malice that doesn’t want you dead so much as maddened and undone.”

And I’m coming back around to that now. Particularly the sea god who’s a vast alien whale, because space whales, but I’m thinking about gods that are not mostly humanoid figures a-la the RL Greek or Norse pantheons, but are fully alien or weird or just non-humanoid. (I’m including elves and dwarves and most broadly human-shaped fantasy races under ‘humanoid’ here). Gods that do not appear in humanoid form. Gods whose primary worshipers are other forms of life. Gods who are weird.

I do have a couple of homebrew deities that don’t appear in humanoid form already. Nuissas, goddess of primal darkness, who usually appears as a vast eyeless abyssal fish. Ket, the First and Formless, deity of primal evil, who as the titles suggest is formless and possibly doesn’t actual exist at all. And while I was looking at them, I did notice a little … A little mental bias maybe. Because both of them are primal deities. Primordial. The first and the formless. Nuissas is likely the oldest deity in her cosmology, the primeval darkness that existed before all things. Ket is the first and formless evil, the first malicious whisper of a thought a sentient being ever had. They’re primal. Elemental.

Which made me wonder … Do I consider non-humanoid forms to be more primitive than humanoid ones? Not consciously, but just instinctively? Looking at it, gods of civilisation, knowledge, invention, law, are they usually humanoid? What sets humans apart from beasts? Fire. Science. (Possibly also thumbs). Is there a bit of post-Enlightenment bias at work here. Heh.

Although, to be fair to myself, Ineia, my goddess of city and civilisation, is also a spider as well as a humanoid woman. But she’s still humanoid, she just needed extra arms for all the work. So. Not quite enough to count, methinks.

This is only an idle thought, I want to mull on the idea of non-humanoid deities some more. See what I come up with. I just wanted to note to myself, while I’m considering, to look beyond just the primal sorts of domains while I’m at it.

That said, I do still want a sea god who’s a vast alien whale with innards full of strange waters. Being eaten by a vast divine whale-god is just too entrenched an image, you know? Maybe also a deity of light and twilight who is a vast beautiful bioluminescent jellyfish. No, I’m not stuck on sea creatures over here, absolutely not. But if you had a waterworld setting, you could have a LOT of fun drawing up a fishy pantheon. The deity of invention and adaptation is a cephalopod. The deity of war is a mantis shrimp. The deity of trickery and hunger and malice is an anglerfish.

But even in a standard fantasy world, some deities that are not and have never been humanoid. A dwarven knowledge deity who is the stone itself, a vast tracery of mineral veins across the world that carry thoughts and dreams and memories. A deity of trickery and magic who turns out, at the base of all its million forms, to be a simple mote of potential, something that looks visually a bit like a will-o-wisp or a soot-sprite made of light, a thought given vaguely physical form. A forge-god who built themselves, a machine-thing of metal and magic that built itself limbs and systems and housing as it required them, a monument to self-expression and self-construction, function over form, with no care for the aesthetic sensibilities of lesser forms of life. A black hole that is the deity of absolute law, remorseless and inexorable and pitilessly even-handed. A deity of remorse and sacrifice and healing that formed from the regretful blade of a monstrous killer, given life and divinity by their final act of self-murder. Gods who are dark moons and balls of mangled flesh and rivers of space time and tiny trembling animals and perfectly mundane objects and abstract shapeless things. Gods who are weird and funky and abstract and just do not deign to appear in familiar form for mortals. If I must look like you for you to worship me, you are not worth my time. I shall appear as I am, or as I choose, and you must simply deal with it, or shatter, as you so choose. Heh.

Non-humanoid deities, is my point here. I need to think on it some. Heh.

[agirlwithdemonblood]

The Broken Fan - Chapter 6

Pairings: Jensen Ackles & Reader (Read as first person!)

Series Summary: Always a nobody, always invisible, will this convention change things?

Chapter Summary: Jensen and I face some hardships that shouldn't have occured, and he gives me a wonderful surprise.

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of physical assault, descriptions of physical assault/fight, swearing, mentions of injury and blood.

Series Masterlist here! Main masterlist here!

Jensen's POV

The auditorium was filled with people who were cheering and screaming my name, but the only sound that came out clearly was that of my own heart pounding loudly in my ears, like a heavy drum or the rain beating on a window pane.

The memories of our previous conversation was on loop in my mind, the excitement nearly overtaking my body. I couldn't wait. But it was also terrifying at the same time, maybe more in a good way.

You know when you go to the fair and you see a ride you really want to go on, but the fear nearly talks you out of it? Your hands shake, your legs feel like jello, your heart almost skips right out of your chest and for a second you feel like you can't do this, you just want to leave, run away screaming, hide.

But whenever you finally get on that ride and it starts, the fear starts to dissipate and turn into adrenaline instead. Your grimace turns into a smile, screams into laughter, fear into fun.

That's what I was feeling. So excited, but so fucking scared of the uncertainty. What if it goes wrong? What if I ruin her? What if she ruins me?

Sitting next to my best friend, I couldn't help but wonder what he would think of all this. Was I being crazy? Was this too fast?

Either way, if this was wrong, than I never wanted to be right.

Back to me

It's only been an hour and a half since Jensen left for the panel but I already missed him with every fibre of my being. Was he thinking of me too? Was he okay?

I had to admit, as soon as he left I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't understand how this is real life, how this is happening to me out of all people. Why would he ever want me this way?

My thoughts were heading straight into overdrive as I sat there, alone, and I couldn't handle it anymore. I had to get out of this stuffy hotel room, away from the silence and the scent of him that drove me crazy.

Quickly grabbing my purse, I headed down the hallway to the elevators, thanking Jensen ahead of time for having a private floor so I wouldn't be caught by any superfans up here.

I wasn't ashamed in any form, but I knew how it already looked by us being together, and I haven't even spoken to him about how this could affect our personal lives when word gets out. I couldn't do that to him, so I'd be as careful as could be.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, my chest tightened with anxiety. Fans were everywhere, crowding around the lobby, nearly pressed into each other. I checked the time and realized quickly why, the panel just ended and Jensen was going to be signing soon.

I walked around sheepishly as I stared at the booths set up, trying to stay calm in the sea of voices and screams. I never really was good with crowds of people, and this... well this was my nightmare.

Suddenly, a warm feeling rushed over me, one that I've only ever felt when Jensen was around. The exact same feeling I had when he stared at me from the stage on the day we met.

I lifted my head up as my eyes scanned the room, falling straight onto my person. He was standing at the back of the room in front of his table, a wide smile spread across his face as he waved gently. I smiled and waved back before walking towards where he was.

I was so distracted by his eyes on mine, I didn't notice the same two girls from the other day approaching me from behind. I didn't notice Jensen's smile fading as he tried to move, but was asked to sit down.

Vanessa's rough grip on my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts as she spun me towards herself and Amber. They smirked mischievously and I returned with a roll of my eyes, sick of their drama and pettiness.

"Y/N, Wow I didn't expect you to be back after you completely embarrassed yourself in front of Jensen yesterday." She stated smugly.

I laughed underneath my breath and turned to continue walking towards Jensen's tables, as I called out over my shoulder, "The only one embarrassing themselves is you, sweetie."

I was so close to him, only a few feet away but Vanessa wouldn't let up. She grabbed me once again and pulled me closer to her. "Are you one of those crazy fans? The ones that try to pry their way into Jensen's life?"

I scoffed in response, "Not that it's any of your business but you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really?" She hissed, as she pulled her phone from her purse, a picture of Jensen and I at the bar last night facing me. I swallowed hard and kept my eyes down, avoiding giving any information out.

"Explain this than."

I yanked my arm from her grip and backed up, "I don't owe you anything, leave me alone Vanessa."

I managed to walk away and get closer to the table, my eyes catching Jensen's worried and concerned expression spread across his face. I offered a reassuring smile, hoping that he could relax and have a good time, he didn't need to worry about this, not now.

I took a deep breath as I tried to push the anxiety out, but as soon as I felt her standing behind me, my nerves only grew. I rolled my eyes and turned towards her, "Listen Vanessa, I understand that your obsessed with Jensen, maybe a little too much, but your not his mother. You aren't his type either so maybe just worry about yourself rather than worry about an actor that doesn't even know you exist."

With that, I turned towards Jensen and gave him a smile before walking back towards the elevator, but unfortunately only made it two steps before a rather large impact hit my back and I quickly fell to the floor.

I turned on my back and before I could react, Vanessa jumped on top of me and started throwing punches, one after another. I held my hands up to block the hits but the little bitch was quick, she threw punch after punch before somebody finally tried to pull her off of me.

I could feel my face bleeding as she kept hitting, kept fighting to attack me, for god knows what reason. I could have easily defended myself, hell I've had fights with people three times bigger than her, but this was Jensen's convention I wasn't going to stoop to her level, I wasn't going to cause a scene here, not in Jensen's place.

Her weight was lifted off of my body and a breath of relief filled my lungs when I realized security pulled her off. My head lulled back onto the floor as I tried to keep calm, praying that I didn't look as bad as I felt.

I turned to face Jensen who was standing only a few feet away, a deep look of heartbreak and desperation covering his face. He tried to come closer, but another security guard had their hand up, blocking him from leaving. I watched as he leaned closer, whispering something to the woman before he disappeared out of my vision.

She came closer to me, slowly helping me stand from my spot before grabbing my arm to lead me out. I was convinced she was kicking me out when she brought me down the hallways to a securely locked door, but when I looked at her with surprise and she offered nothing but a reassuring smile, I figured out what Jensen told her.

Before I knew it, we walked through a door with his name on it and I was in a room that looked like a lounge. She kindly helped me sit before offering to clean my wounds but I politely declined, all I wanted was to see Jensen. He would help me.

She left as soon as he walked in and he stilled at the sight of me up close. A look of dread and heartbreak covered his face as he rushed over to my side, crouching in front of me. "Jesus honey, are you alright?"

I nodded sadly and shrugged, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen."

He shook his head and leaned upwards, laying a deep kiss to my temple. "Don't apologize." He reassured as he grabbed a towel to clean the blood off, "Why didn't you hit her back?"

"Because I knew if I did, in the long run that would look horrible on you. If we ever became public people would know me as the girl who got in a fight at the convention. That's not fair to you."

He scoffed as he gently wiped the blood from my eyes. "So you just took a bunch of hits to protect my image?"

"Yes." I stated as I shoved his hand down, "And I would do it again in a heartbeat Jensen. I've been hit before, it's no big deal."

He flinched as soon as the words left my mouth and his head dropped, the image of me ever being hit tearing at his soul.

He shook his head and sighed deeply, "Sweetie, I appreciate what you were trying to do but I want you to defend yourself when somebody hurts you, I don't want to be the reason you get the shit beaten out of you."

I smiled and leaned closer to him, reaching my hand to his chin and bringing it up to face me, "Trust me, in another place I would have kicked her ass but not in a convention-your convention, not when we are about to start our life together."

He frowned as the towel dropped in his lap, his head falling slightly. Guilt filled me as I watched how sad and broken he looked, "Listen, I know you don't understand. But I promise, I'm fine. If I felt like that bitch was going to kill me, I would have 100% defended myself but I knew she was pissed off and was going to get stopped by security, and she did."

"I just..." He whispered, "I hate the idea that you have been hit before, and especially seeing it for myself today. I wish I could have helped."

"I know Jensen. But the way I've grown up, I've had to learn how to defend myself. I know how to handle it and when not to say or do anything. Today, I shouldn't have said anything but I did because she was insulting us. That was my bad so whatever happened after that was my-"

His face shot up as a stern look appeared on his face, "Don't you dare say it was your fault."

I couldn't help but smile at the protective side of Jensen, it was hot and cute at the same time and it made my heart melt knowing he cared this much about me.

"I promise I'm okay." I spoke softly, leaning closer to him.

"Okay." He smiled softly. "I trust you."

"Okay, well you have to get back out there before the fans start busting down the doors trying to find you."

A whole hearted laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head at me, "I will but first let me clean you up."

The room was filled with a comfortable silence as he worked on getting the blood off of me, occasionally placing bandages on the bigger areas that were still bleeding, and by the time he was done, I knew I was even more in love with him than I've ever been.

He smiled and leaned closer, capturing my lips with his in a passionate and meaningful way. I smirked against him as he seperated, standing to help me up off the couch and into his arms tightly.

“Okay I should go.” He sighed, walking back towards the door but stopping before he could turn the knob. “I’ll be back soon. Can you try not to get punched by any more crazy fan girls while I’m gone?”

A loud giggle escaped my mouth as I rushed towards the door, leaning on my tiptoes to peck his lips over and over. I couldn’t get enough of him. I smirked and pulled away, “I’ll try but no promises. Being with you might mean I piss off more people than intended.”

A loud chuckle filled his throat as he shook his head and I swore I’ve never heard something so beautiful in my life. He winked before opening the door and quickly shutting it behind him, leaving me in the room to wait patiently, if I could do that.

It’s been a good two hours since he left and the separation was already tearing at my soul. It was ridiculous, I should be able to get through a few hours without him, I lived years without even knowing him. What the hell kind of hold did he have on me.

I walked towards the mirror and froze at my reflection, laughing lightly at the site of the bruises and cuts all over my face. I’ll definitely give her this, for a small girl she could really hit.

It amazed me more than pissed me off, the fact that I allowed somebody like her to even try to hurt me like that, was a shock itself.

I’ve been in a few fights in my lifetime, I mean you kind’ve have to be ready for one when your living on the street and the more I ran into people who wanted to start something, the more I learned about self defence.

I wasn’t an animal, I didn’t want to fight or even learn how to, but being a young woman living in a car I’d occasionally run into the stray drunk men who didn’t want to take no for an answer, and local crackheads who wanted to steal my home.

And not once have I ever let somebody attack me or say the things they’ve said about somebody I cared about without hitting back but Jensen was worth it. He was worth everything.

A ping on my phone interrupted my thoughts and an instant smile erupted on my face when I saw his name.

>>Meet me in the back alley in 10 mins, I have a suprise for you.<<

My heart was pounding as I stared at the message, a deep confusion spreading throughout me.

I’ve never gotten a surprise before and the idea of Jensen sneaking around planning something for me, well it made me feel like an excited little girl on her birthday.

I made my way out the hallways and found the exit, stepping outside before my eyes fell on him. He smiled and pushed himself off the wall, towards a large item hidden underneath a tarp.

“What’s going on?” I smiled nervously as he led me towards the covered mystery. His smile was bright and filled with joy as he led me towards the mystery present, hands holding mine tightly in his own.

“You know how yesterday you told me that you had no life here except for me? Well, I realized that this wasn’t the full truth. You do have a life here. One that you can bring with us.”

I titled my head quizzically before he moved towards the tarp and pulled it off, instantly filling me with shock. I gasped as I backed up, tears filling my eyes at my most prized possession. The home I thought I lost.

My car.

My eyes darted between my baby and him as I struggled to find the words. “Jensen… what did you… How did you…?”

He chuckled and stepped closer, hands resting on my shoulders to bring me back to earth. “Amber. When I went back to the signing, she came up to the counter and apologized for Vanessa, than she told me that she was the one who called the tow truck because Vanessa made her. I asked her what type of car, got the info and sent one of my handlers to go get it for you.”

The tears started rushing down my cheeks as I realized how much I really adored this man. He didn’t have to do this and he knew it, but he wanted to. This had to be the most thoughtful action somebody’s ever shown me.

“Jensen..” I whispered as I leaned my head against his chest, holding him tightly against me. “Thank you..”

He nodded, a gentle yet firm kissed pressed on top of my head as his arms tightened around me. “Of course. I know she’s a big part of your life, and she was your home before you met me, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to take a road trip back home tomorrow. It’s a long drive so of course only if your up to it. We could always get her shipped out to Texas.”

My smile spread across my lips as I lifted my head to face him, “I’d love that.”

He leaned down gently before pushing his lips against mine, slowly leading me against the wall. My back was pressed as his hand move to my cheek, deepening the kiss with such love and passion I was seeing stars.

A loud clang interrupted our movements, and we quickly stood straight, trying to focus on where the source came from.

His face dropped when he noticed, his hand moving to my arm to grab mine and pull me away. I froze when I spotted what he was staring at, Vanessa.

Jensen tugged on my arm and I shook my head before pushing him gently behind the car to hide him away from her sight. I leaned against the wall and shook my head, “What do you want?”

She scoffed and stepped closer, inches away from me. “You got me kicked out of the convention you bitch.”

I all but laughed as I kicked off the wall, standing directly in front of her. “I actually didn’t do anything, your the freak who jumped me in the middle of the room.”

“Yeah! Because you are some sort of stalker fan girl who tricked their way into Jensen’s life. You have to be an idiot if you’d ever think he’d fall for a ugly homeless chick like you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, footsteps started approaching us and I sighed. Clearly Jensen heard enough and was about done with this conversation, as was I.

The look on her face when she spotted him was nearly hysterical, yet aggravated me to the core. She was staring at him with such fake love in her eyes and it drove me crazy. She thought she loved him but she didn’t know a single thing about him, she didn’t have what we did.

“Actually Vanessa” I spoke, interrupting her trance. “He fell for me without even knowing I was homeless. Your attempt to break us apart has failed, it only brought us closer together.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes as she pushed passed me, nearly knocking me on my ass. I bit my tongue in anger as I watched her step inches from Jensen, her hand coming to his chest. “Jensen, I can offer you so much more than this piece of trash, dump her and let me show you how happy I could make you.”

Before Jensen could react or even respond, I lost my cool. I rushed towards her, my arm wrapping around her waist as I spun her to the ground. She fell on her knees and looked up at me with such anger and aggression I nearly felt bad for her.

She quickly stood and came closer until she was merely inches from my face and I instantly knew where this was going. I’ve been in this situation before and the two things I learned were to never show fear, and never back down.

Jensen grabbed my hand and shook his head, “No, this isn’t happening. C’mon.” He tried to pull me away but before we knew it, Vanessa jumped on top of me and pulled me to the ground, just like she did inside the hotel.

Jensen tried to jump in but my hand quickly rested on his leg, pushing him back. The last thing we need is for her to claim assault against him because he was defending me. No, this was my fight and I was going to end it.

I let her get a hit in before my arm came up behind her head, swinging her downwards until she fell directly beside me, causing me to jump on her and lay one hard hit onto her face. I stood up quickly and walked back to Jensen, nearly laughing at the way Vanessa was staring into space with such a confused look on her face.

I leaned closer to her and sighed, “You know why Jensen chose me? Because I don’t act like a crazy fucking bitch like you do. I don’t attack fans based on the fact that they got closer to the man they think they love. You don’t know him, I know him. The only damn reason I let you beat the shit out of me in there was because that was his territory, his place. It wasn’t mine to cause a scene, but you did that yourself. The only reason why I haven’t completely kicked your ass right here and now is because you are not worth it. So get over it. Get over the fact that Jensen fell in love with me and not with you and god damn it Vanessa, grow the fuck up.”

She stayed silent, a look of anger and defeat on her face as she stood from her spot and walked away, leaving us alone in the empty alley.

As soon as she left, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding in, and swayed against the wall, head resting against the brick to try and keep my composure.

Jensen's hand immediately came to my shoulder as waves of adrenaline shook me to my core. His hand rubbed gently, easing some of the nerves I was still holding onto.

"Are you okay?" He spoke gently.

I shook my head and turned towards him, tears threatening to pour out at any second. "I will be."

His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he looked me up and down, "Did she hit you hard?"

"No, that was just.. really scary." My voice cracked as the tears started to fall.

For a second he looked surprised and it nearly made me laugh, but also made me feel so stupid. His arms pulled me closer into his chest and I breathed him in, the scent of his cologne relaxing me in a way I didn't know could happen.

"I didn't know you were scared baby."

I nodded against his chest, "Of course I was scared, I'm not a heartless monster. I hate fighting. I just do it because I have to, but you never know how it's going to end until it's done, and when it's finally finished, god it shakes you."

He nodded understandably as his lips pressed deep onto my forehead, hands rubbing my back in reassurance that he was here and I could finally breathe easily.

The silence was comforting and relaxing in a strange way, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear calmed my tense muscles and I swore I could just live in this moment with him forever.

His chin rubbed against my head as he sighed contently, lifting to take a look at my state. He smiled gently when he noticed the relaxed look across my face, a kiss being pressed gently against my lips. "Are you okay now?"

I nodded, "Mhm, i'm good. Thanks Jensen."

He broke the distance first, backing up and grabbing my hand tightly in his before he stopped to turn towards me, "I do.... you know?"

I stared back quizzically which made him chuckle, a deep red colour spreading across his freckled cheeks.

"Love you... You told Vanessa that I fell in love with you. I think you were saying that to piss her off but you know I do right?"

My heart pounded in my ears and I could feel the blood rushing to my head as those three words I haven't heard before fall from his lips. He... loved me?

"You do?" I questioned nearly inaudibly.

He nodded and this time he was the one who was filled with anxiety, he was the one who was scared. I smiled wide and jumped in his arms, loud laughter erupting from both of us.

"I love you too Jensen."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Like, comment & reblog -feedback is my fuel ❤️

The Broken Fan taglist: @magssteenkamp @creative-writing92

[eleanorblythe]

Romantic Homicide - Anton Chigurh x Orginal Female Character - One Shot

This is a supplemental to my first three chapters and explores Anton and Her before the events of Romantic Homicide.

This is how she died.

Also on Ao3 with author notes and translations - here

Winter of 1978

She just needed to hold on a little longer.

She needed to move.

She was starting to feel numb. And cold.

She couldn’t remember the last time she was this cold. A bone deep chill. Her mind flashed to a morning from her childhood. The first time she had ever seen snow. Her nose, touching the window feeling the wet of the condensation. The distant voice of someone calling her.

The irritating rustle of polyester as she sprinted through the house in her winter coat, with the speed and determination that only a child can possess. A woman’s voice scolding her about inappropriate shoes as she whizzed past and out into the garden.

The snow was dancing.

She danced with it.

She remembered trying to move around the snowflakes, tasting them. She remembered allowing herself to fall face first into the snow, trying to be as quiet and as still as possible - wanting to be enveloped by it. Buried under it. Consumed by it.

Strong arms lifted her out of the snow and spun her round and round. She had never felt as free and as happy as she had that day, in the snow.

She felt like she was face down in the snow again, feeling the cold slowly starting to seep into every part of her being. Only instead of the peace and stillness of the earth, she was staring at mineral fibre tiles with yellow damp stains and watching a rickety ceiling fan stutter as it span slowly above her.

She just needed to hold on a little longer.

But, hold on for what?

She had other flashes of a life that felt so long ago and so removed from the person she was now, they didn’t feel real.

Family dinners with faceless parents, holidays in towns she couldn’t name, losing her virginity on an unexceptional Tuesday, graduating with classmates who must have assumed she died years ago.

Her first kill.

Sitting in the aftermath, watching the blood drip and spread over the linoleum. Feeling the heavy weight of the kitchen knife clenched in her hand. Staring as her panic and pain turned to curiosity and pragmatism.

Her first contract.

Sitting in a waiting room filled with older, hardened and grizzled men, waiting to be called into the nondescript office. Feeling a great sense of pride. Knowing she was better than any of them. Praying one of them looked at her funny so she could prove it to them.

The first time she nearly died.

She remembered a beach, from the ever distant memory of her youth. Those same strong arms hoisting her onto their shoulders and wading into the ocean, feeling and tasting the foam and salt on her skin. She had nearly drowned that day, but she remembered an overwhelming sense of peace as she dipped beneath the waves that final time - before being yanked out of the water and her name being called out, over and over, in panic. A scratchy terrycloth towel being wrapped around her and being shaken until her eyes opened and she saw the blurry faces of her mother and father leaning over her.

This time she knew she would not be so lucky.

As she lay on the nondescript floor of the nondescript office, staring up at the speckled ceiling tiles, she tried desperately to remember the faces of her parents.

She couldn’t.

She would die soon, and they wouldn’t be there to save her.

She tried to look down at her sticky red hand clutching her side, but her body was starting to shut down. She could not move.

She had been gutted, like a fish and left for dead.

She could live (and soon die) with the physical pain, but she could not accept the betrayal. The greed. The dishonour of it all.

She never claimed to be an innocent, or even moral. No one in her world was, but there was an unspoken code within her world.

1. Don’t interfere with others’ contracts.

2. Settle your debts.

Sometimes the first was unavoidable, with as surprising many operatives and agencies as there were in this little underworld - mistakes could happen. In her experience sometimes happy accidents.

But the second rule.

If you were prepared to break the second, then prepare yourself to be hunted to the ends of the earth. By everyone. You would be found. No matter where. No matter how long it took. You would never know a single moments’ peace ever again.

It was unfortunate that she would not be the one to do the hunting. She had done everything she needed to do. She had completed the job, she had extracted the information she needed. She delivered in a timely manner. Yet she was killed for it.

She was deemed a ‘liability’ and needed to be put down, ‘like a bitch’. She remembered thinking, as two men held her down and her former contractor sliced her open; “You’ve damned yourself, for money that was never yours anyway…”

She could still hear the distant voices of her betrayers, drinking and laughing in the next room. Toasting her demise. She supposed the plan was to wait for her to bleed out and then go and have a celebratory dinner. How inconsiderate of her to die slowly. Eventually they got bored of waiting and left anyway, leaving the lackey behind to make sure she died.

She was unsure how long she lay there. If she were in a better mood she might have scoffed that they couldn’t even kill her properly. Then again, a slow death may have been part of the design.

Her breathing became more shallow and the cold sensation had now fully enveloped her. A tear escaped the corner of her eye as she lamented that her last view would be of this stained ceiling in this tired looking office in the middle of the desert. She’d always hated the desert.

Her vision was starting to darken and she finally let her hand that had been desperately clasped at her side, drop to the piss and shit stained carpet.

She thought about praying, but who should she pray to, who would listen? Instead she thought about those who she would miss.

Not a long list.

She thought of her parents and wondered if wherever she ended up, she would see them again. She had friends, she supposed she would miss them, but they weren’t true friends, she had shown them only a fragment of herself and as a result, her friendships were mostly surface level.

And then there was Anton.

Anton was the only person who really knew her. Her only ally. She wondered in another life, if she might have married a man like Anton, found a normal job, bought a house, had a few children, got a dog that would bark at everything. Live.

But life was not a Norman fucking Rockwell painting and that life was something she could never have. Was it even something she would ever want?

Too late for that now.

What little of a life she had started to build with Anton- late night drives to nowhere in particular, weekends away exploring everything like tourists, leaving each other’s personal items at each other’s houses, tentative and disguised discussions about the future - ended here.

She felt a shadow pass over her and the blurry figure of a man standing over her. She wondered if her father was finally here to take her away.

For the first time since this ordeal, she smiled. A small, weak, smile. She was finally ready to admit defeat. She was ready to go.

With what little strength she had left, she lifted her bloody hand up to reach for her father.

“Is it time?” Her voice was barely there. She continued to reach, but her father would not take her hand. Maybe he could only take it when she finally crossed over.

__________

Anton stood over her body. He thought she was already dead until her glassy eyes moved over him, she smiled and her hand stretched out towards him.

“Is it time?” She whispered.

His gaze flicked to her wound, despite the thickness of the carpet, her blood had spread everywhere. She was still alive, but barely.

“Not quite.” He responded.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly and she blinked in confusion.

“Where’s mom?”

Anton titled his head, before replying,

“Your mother’s dead.” He said.

“So are we,” she strained “aren’t we?”

“No, we’re not dead,” he said quietly, still observing. He didn’t want to think about the tightness of his throat. He saw death everyday. He dealt death everyday. Why should today make him feel any differently?

Because it’s her.

He had enjoyed himself this last year. She was fun, he found that he actually quite liked having her around. He had even humoured her and gone on a few trips and played the part of a regular person who takes vacations and goes sightseeing. He would never admit, that he really enjoyed those trips and would wait patiently until she brought up planning the next one.

The company was good and the sex was great.

That’s all this was meant to be.

So why did he have her birthday memorised?

Why did he make sure he always had strawberries in the house, just on the off chance she came over and wanted some?

Why did he once drive to three different florists to get her favourite flowers? For that matter why did he even know what her favourite flowers were?

Why did he never sleep peacefully on nights when she was away in jobs?

Because it’s her. Because you-

He knew why. It was that same ‘why’ that told him to come out into the desert.

Earlier, his relatively mundane evening was interrupted by a phone call. As soon as he answered and heard her signature “hey handsome” the corners of his lips turned up and he relaxed into his seat. It had been a couple of weeks since they last saw each other and she announced she was staying at his place once she had turned in her latest assignment. Three hours later and she still hadn’t arrived. Anton inexplicably felt something wash over him. Dread.

And now here she was. Dying. Her outstretched hand had lost its strength and it hit the carpet with a quiet thud.

“Is it snowing at the house?” She murmured. Anton finally knelt down and took her hand. He watched her eyes refocus and scan his face. “Oh. It’s you,”

“Who did you think it was?” Anton asked, genuinely curious.

“My father…hey handsome,” she said weakly.

“Can you feel my hand?” He said giving her hand a small squeeze.

“No.”

“What can you feel?”

“Cold.” Anton only managed to catch the first sound, she was fading. Her watery eyes found his. “Can you end it, please? It hurts.”

Anton wasn’t unfamiliar with people begging him for death, he was usually happy to oblige. It made the job cleaner, more efficient. He didn’t like the idea of doing it to her.

As if sensing his hesitation, she used the last reserve of strength she had to squeeze his hand.

“The coin will tell you.” Anton’s eyes snapped to hers where they had previously been staring at her hand clasped weakly in his. He shook himself out of his thoughts and took out a coin. She had never pretended she was fully on board with the concept of fate and the way Anton chose to strictly adhere to the coin face, no matter what, but she knew it was important to him. She knew it would help.

She knew it would show the right choice.

Anton made his choice.

Heads, he kills her.

Tails, he holds her hand until she dies.

He flipped the coin and let it land on his open palm.

Heads.

He quickly shoved the coin back into his pocket and turned his gaze back to her. She gave a pained smile.

“It’s okay, Anton,” She mouthed.

The choice was made for him. Every choice they had both made brought them to this. The end. He nodded and leaned down to kiss her clammy forehead. He spoke her name against her skin and whispered an apology.

He had made his choice.

He leant back and ripped a strip of fabric off of the end of her dress and pressed it hard into her wound. He heard a stuttered gasp of pain, the biggest sign of life she had shown thus far. He ripped more of her dress to fashion a tourniquet. He wrapped it around her waist and secured it tightly. She jolted up from her prone position with an agonising scream. He kept murmuring apologies and kept talking over her cries of pain- for her sake or his, he wasn’t sure.

Eventually the catastrophic bleeding finally stemmed and Anton was able to scoop his arms under her and pick her up. He carried her out of the nondescript office, past the nondescript lobby (over the dead lackey), and out into the desert night.

She twisted her head from Anton’s shoulder once she felt the night breeze on her face. She looked up to see stars, every one of them glittering and bright. She gasped and wept. She wouldn’t die staring at a stained ceiling, she would die surrounded by millions of stars, swirling and circling around her.

Like snow.

Her eyes fluttered closed and she felt the pull of darkness, carried in those safe, strong arms.

[ltwilliammowett]

Spinning Yarn

Spinning Yarn is the art of fictional storytelling among seafarers who could not just stay on board a ship. There were also good stories that were carried ashore and spun or even written down and printed.

Origin

The term “spinning yarn” has not existed for very long, it has only been known in writing since the early 19th century. It was James Hardy Vaux who, in his work of 1819, reported not only on his experiences as a criminal in England and later as a convict, but also on the storytelling on board the ship that transported him, which he called spinning yarn.

Saturday Night at Sea by George Cruikshank (1792 -1878)

In the 1820s this kind of art was also carried out by Greenwich pensioners and some of them were even published in newspapers under the term Spinning Yarn. But where does this term come from? Seamen often had to spend time repairing ropes on board ships. This is a time-consuming job of twisting fibres together, which was supposedly called "spinning yarn". While repairing ropes, sailors often told each other stories to pass the time. Over time, these stories came to be called "yarn" and the telling of a story came to be called "spinning yarn". Presumably, however, this practice goes back to the Middle Ages, but it is no longer possible to say for sure.

The reason for these stories

First and foremost, they were told to escape boredom and fill the hours of idleness. But the stories also fulfilled other tasks, for one thing they were there to create a bond among the comrades. For although these stories were largely fictional, they contained elements of everyday life, of the family or of one's own life story. Things that everyone on board could relate to and that created a bond.

(x)

The better the story, the higher the reputation and the higher the listenership of the narrator, which in turn could cause some discomfort on the part of the narrator, as the comrades would sometimes give him something extra to tell them an exciting new story. And it increased the likelihood that the story would be passed on ashore, which could also have positive effects for the storytellers. But the stories also had hidden messages in them, so they could contain a warning about the behaviour towards some officials or criticism of them. But also parts about tired men and extraordinary phenomena. The ghost stories are particularly noteworthy here. They entertained but also had a lasting effect and elevated the narrator a little higher in his position among the men. after all, he was a good man for having experienced it, even if the older ones knew that it was fiction. The younger ones who had not yet had these experiences or were still too young to distinguish fiction from reality.

Yarns that were printed

Some of the stories made it into print for others to enjoy. It is important to distinguish whether the book was written by a Sailor, an author pretending to be a Sailor or an exsailor. Today we would simply put it in the category of adventure stories. But at that time Sailor adventures were something special. Etchings of a Whaling Cruise, by J. Ross Browne 1846  is a hybrid of a logbook, journal, travelogue and yarn. For there he tells the story of a sailor and his journey on a whaler, later on a whale, and that alcohol is not a friend.

Etchings of a Whaling Cruise, with Notes of a Sojourn on the Island of Zanzibar. by John Ross Browne (1821-1875) - here the ride on a whale

 The book was also read with great favour by Herman Melville. Richard Henry Dana Jr. also addresses spinning yarns in his work Two Years before the Mast.

And The Narrative of the Remarkable Occurrences in the Life of John Blatchford by unknown,18th century, but probably Blatchford himself, recounts his life as an American Sailor during the Revolution and his sacrifice for the fledgling US Navy.

Owen Chase (1797-1869), first mate of the Whaler Essex, also tells a story about the famous incident of the Whaler and its tragic fate in his book The Wreck of the Whaleship Essex. In particular, however, he emphasises the cruelty of cannibalism in his book and reports so matter-of-factly that it must have sent shivers down the reader's spine. Whether this is a classic yarn is questioned in research, but the book does not seem to have been written by Chase himself. Rather, it seems to be based on his reports and journal, which makes parts of the whole thing a yarn again, as they probably did not happen as portrayed. The same happens with Moby Dick by Herman Melville, 1851, which takes up the Essex and her story but spins his own adventure out of it.

All these stories had their subtleties, their depths and their morals or even warnings, but a good story brought men together. It relieved boredom and caused astonishment, joy or even goose bumps. Just as we experience today when someone tells us a good adventure. At this point, however, a small warning from me, if you read stories about sailors, be prepared, it could just be a yarn and therefore not necessarily real.

[idiotwithanipad]

Stolen

(Set in my Gore Au. Shortly after @shebeafancyflapjack’s A Slip Through Wolrds series. Ft her OC Silver)

The witch didn’t know she’d be in for one of the biggest horrors she could ever imagine that foggy morning. The cornflower bed for her daughter was vacant. It shouldn’t be vacant; there was still two days till the spritely girl should wake, grace her with the adorableness she craved all month.

She’d made a huge mistake. Two. The first being, bringing her fury down onto her beloved ally. He’d stayed by her side ever since her fiery death, opened up his rightful home to her, offered her assistance in time of madness. He asked for so little, nothing but a small relief from his own brain, which sizzled and hissed with the terrors of his past.

All he’d done was try to put an end to her madness, the madness she had inflicted on others and even the universe around them. The biggest thing that pushed him to rebel, the three girls, pathetic and defenceless against her power. A rare glimmer of pity and a deep yearning to make this all stop, for it all to go back to normal.

Then she had done what she’d promised she wouldn’t. Cause him pain.

She’d been remorseful. Wept at his feet for forgiveness. Stroked and petted at his morbid face until he’d given a soft grumble and settled her upon a tree stump. He held her hands, almost like a man, and pressed his brow to her charred knuckles. Reassurance.

No cry. No tears. Not hurt anymore.

“Buts thou shoulds have seen them, ally. All three little’ens, so small and full of lifes. Even t’other Bone girl did smile with a twinkles in her eyes” She gushed, gazing at him in wonder.

“My darling girl and her healthy twin. I wanted dearly for thems to both be mine. Thou woulds have caved, I tell thee” She smiled.

She had given him another gift that night. One that brought him more than relief from his endless pain. One that haunted him for weeks, wriggled its way under his skin and made him crave something he’d forgotten for far too long.

She allowed him a peek into her minds eye, a glance at her memories, let him watch the exchange with the cubs in the unseen land of the mind. All three, tiny, happy, lively and innocent. They reminded him of others, many others. They aren’t his cubs. But who’s to say they couldn’t be?

He had been the entity to stumble upon them both first. The dancing girl when she had arrived and attracted his attention that moonlit night during her celebration. The dark haired girl when she came along with that ugly, cruel woman with the bad words. That’s been the way of his land for eons; the first to find a cub must be the first to welcome it to the land and keep it safe.

Bitterness and regret for not being able to care for his rightful cubs had pinched at his black heart, forced him to turn the new cubs away and hoist them onto the next person to protect. He’d broken his own code. The code of his tribe and family. His mother and father, sisters and brothers, cousins and friends would be ashamed.

The witch was right. He DID cave. And it hurt him. He knew what must be done, for the sake of his own sanity and code of morality. It had to be done.

—

Amy, the dark haired girl, fiddled with her white leg warmers, picking at tiny little fibres. Her father’s head, which had been awake all night, slept behind her on a cushion, softly snoring. A soft breath alerted Amy of a guest. Her pulse fluttered as she spun, one of her eyes falling down to her cheek from the sudden swish of her head. She fumbled to push it back in, her vision clearing and seeing the form of the witch’s furred ally standing by the door, his back hunched, his knuckles cracking and reaching towards her.

Her brow furrowed, confused. He rose a digit to his lips and urged her to be quiet so she wouldn’t disturb the sleeping head behind her. There was an odd calmness and gentleness in his eyes, his face wasn’t contorted into an exasperated grimace. He nodded down to his outstretched arm and gave a tiny grunt.

Amy rose her hands, gesticulating.

‘What…Up?’

He understood. Bringing his finger up to point at her before pressing it to his shoulder, dragging it across the width of his body till it stopped at the other shoulder.

‘Your…friend’

Her friend?…Silver? Was she missing again?

He beckoned her to follow, and turned on his boots, not lowering himself back to his knuckles. Odd.

Amy reached behind her to wake her father, but the creature gave an urgent and panicked huff. Amy glanced back at him, watching with confusion as he quickly shook his head. Amy gave an unsure and concerned glance to the creature. She’d felt peer pressure before, and this was high up there.

Reluctantly, she gave one final look to the sleeping Tudor’s head and followed the creature from the room. She watched as he seemed to be surveying the East Wing hall. Amy was about to reach over to him and click to get his attention, but he’d turned and crouched to chest level with her, bending his arm and gesturing to his back.

He steeled himself and waited, glancing down at her large boots, waiting for her to move. Amy gesticulated in her unique sign language that he’d been getting the hang of recently.

‘What…you…doing?’

The creature gave a frustrated huff and patted his back again, roughly. Oh, he wanted her to climb on. But why? Amy cringed and, with shaking knees, clambered onto the creatures back, trying not to squeeze him with her uncomfortably boney knees. Finally. Silly cub understand.

The creature rose to his knuckles again and began slowly skulking through the house. He hadn’t formed a close bond with the body of the girl’s father, but he’d observed it’s behaviour. It seemed to be able to distinguish the difference between a stranger’s footsteps and its daughter’s. So, the logical thing to do? Take the girl off the ground all together, make sure the body, wherever it may be, can’t feel her footsteps and track her down.

Although just a precaution, much to his luck, he didn’t spot the wandering husk at all as they made it outside. Amy groaned sheepishly above him, taking her hands from his shoulders to sign again.

He glanced to the side to catch her gesticulated words.

‘Where…we…going?’

Although he couldn’t hear any nervousness from her, he could see it, and feel it; the trembling in her fingers and the shudder in her legs was all he needed. He’d have to brush up on his acts of comfort, but that could wait until he got back to the old ivy strewn cave that even his mistress didn’t know about, where the other cub lie sleeping.

The lack of any sort of response was always the worst. Amy glanced over her shoulder, contemplating climbing down from the creature-man’s back and running home. But every time she moved her leg, even a fraction, the creature glanced back up at her and tightened the muscles in his back, a warning growl following suit.

Nevertheless, the creature continued to knuckle-walk on, completely bypassing the woods and heading west into the direction of the lake. It strode in a rehearsed and certain manner, it wasn’t lost at all. The surroundings were new and foreign to Amy, who kept glancing back over her shoulder at the quickly disappearing Estate.

Amy felt the urge to duck and cover as the creature ploughed through a dense bramble hedge, followed by what could only be called a briar patch, nettles and finally rock. Stone, dirt and flint. A shallow little cave had been hidden back here all along without anyone knowing. No bigger than the kitchen back in the house, perhaps smaller?

One he reached the perimeter of the little opening, only then did he allow her to climb down. Amy slid from the creature’s back and staggered back slightly, looking at him like he’d gone loopy. He just stared at her, oddly settled and unbothered. Lacking the indifferent glare he usually sported.

Amy gesticulated.

‘Where…are…we?…Where’s…Silv?’

The creature grumbled quietly and nodded to the ground behind her. Amy glanced over her shoulder to where he nodded. Lying on her back, sprawled out over the rough ground, Silver was dead to the world. Her eyes closed, her nosebleed temporarily paused, her lips slightly parted. Luckily, the steady rise and fall of her stomach reminded Amy that her sleeping friend was in fact just sleeping and not dead; It’s easier to forget than you might think.

Amy rushed to Silver and dropped carefully to her knees. She clapped, hoping to rouse the witchling from her nap. No response. Not even a twitch. She clapped again, louder. Nothing. Confused, Amy turned her attention back to the wild man behind her.

She signed.

‘Full…moon…yet?’

The creature shook his head. Then why are we here? Amy glanced back at Silver’s sleeping face, wondering why she’d been moved at all. To here of all places; it wasn’t exactly remarkable. The damp, jagged rock strewn with ivy and moss was hardly anything whimsical, especially when comparing it to Silver’s usual bed.

During Amy’s brainstorming, the creature hand crawled closer and put his hand on Amy’s back, pushing her down, causing her to topple, landing on her side. Amy nearly yelped, managing to clamp her lips shut. She gawked over at the creature, crouching before them. This time, he signed.

‘You…stay’

Amy’s wide eyes flicked in any direction but his. She’d only ever felt fright towards him once in the past; when the witch had sent him to kidnap her for an interrogation. Awkward days. She didn’t think she’d go back to feeling that way about him, especially after he’d conceded to allow her to teach him sign while they waited for Silver to awaken.

She couldn’t tell if his signed words were a suggestion or a threat, but his face held no malice or hatred. Actually, he looked almost- happy. His bottom jaw slowly jutting forward and his top lip twitching upwards, his eyes calm and gentle. She’d never seen him like this, she felt silly for feeling uneasy, but how are you supposed to react when someone who’s shown you nothing but a fifty-fifty chance of hostility suddenly does a complete one-eighty?

‘Where’s…Mary?’ Amy signed.

The creature’s face broke suddenly, a slight pull in his cheeks, his eyes blinking slowly. He shuffled back and itched clumsily at the gashes of bear claws on his chest. He suddenly looked full of guilt. Shame?

Amy gathered herself and sat cross legged, the sleeping Silver being the only barrier between them, staring at him. Her gut dropped.

‘Has…she…gone…up?’ Amy signed, pointing to the uneven roof of the cave. Quickly, he shook his head and gave a series of gentle huffs. He reached over Silver’s body and- patted the side of Amy’s head. Weird.

As long as the not so evil witch hadn’t gone, everything would be okay. Wouldn’t it? She probably sent him to bring them here? She’d find them when the time was right?

It took her longer than a few seconds to realise that the creature hadn’t yet drawn his hand away from the side of her head. Snapping back to reality, she cleared her throat, the best she could, and shuffled back. The creature merely tilted his head slightly, looking truly confused as to why she’d shy away. He leaned closer. Glancing down at Silver, who his knees nearly bushed against, he gently swept her pink fringe from her brow, a tender gleam in his eyes that looked somewhat dazed, like he wasn’t the one in control of his actions.

This was beyond strange now, what the hell happened to turn him into a faux version of himself? It’s like he’d turned into the ‘nice’ version of him Silver had come across in the other world, the one she called ‘Robin’.

Amy threw caution to the wind and got up, clambering to her feet and making a swift step towards the cave mouth. But the creature merely grabbed her ankle as she passed him. She twitched around to look at him, horror in her bulging eyes.

“Mmm!” She groaned, her Monster filled throat burning as her vocal chords were forced open. The creature shook his head, that sickeningly calm look on his face like this wasn’t suspicious at all. With a force that hardly matched the look in his eyes, he yanked Amy to the ground, gathering her closer and practically dropping her on top of Silver. She rolled off and tried to sit up, but he clasped her shoulder and pushed her down again.

“Mm! Mm-mm!” Amy demanded, her tightly shut mouth still slightly overflowing with liquid. She creature rose his hand, answering in the way Amy taught him.

‘You…cubs…you…sleep’

How long until the next full moon? Weeks? Days? Hours? How long until Mary notices Silver is missing and comes looking? How long until the headless body senses her absence?

Amy’s only hope is that Silver wakes up sooner rather than later.

[anipgarden]

ive done some spinning with milkweed fluff!! it stayed together but i had to keep it super wet to do the actual spinning. i made it into a little square and its so soft and fluffy!! but yes its very difficult to spin as the fibres are very short [i spin with a top whorl drop spindle]

Oooh, cool! Honestly I feel you're not the first person I've heard of on Tumblr spinning milkweed fluff, which makes it feel all the more wild that most online sites that mention it say its impossible???? Wild.

Out of curiosity, asides from the square, what would you find spun milkweed useful for making? I ask this not as someone who's ever spun thread or someone interested in taking it up, just as a curious passerby lol.

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul silva x reader - the perfect day

Looking at the man from across your classroom, you huffed and went back to the papers in front of you and you heard him sigh.

“Go away Silva.”

“Just talk to me (Y/N), please? It’s been days.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. So, go away.”

You stood up, putting some of the papers in your desk you walked to the side of the classroom and started to look at some jars of herbs.

Saul walked over and placed his hand over yours, setting the jar down before he took your hand and held it between his.

You didn’t look at him, you just stared out the window.

“I never said I didn’t want to get married, I just said I hadn’t thought about getting married.”

“Well it’s basically the same thing Silva. We’ve been dating for years, and we’re not getting any younger, I’ve always wanted to get married, to you. Clearly you don’t want the same thing.”

You looked at him, pulling your hand from his.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married (Y/N)!”

“Saul we’ve been dating since we were teenagers! We’re both in our 40s now! That’s over 20 years! That’s a good chunk of time to think about this don’t you think?”

You spun around and he grabbed your wrist, turning you back around.

“Then why didn’t you say anything until now? Why now?” He asked.

“Because you nearly died! And I realised if you died I would just be known as your girlfriend and nothing more! I want to be known as your wife! Not just the girlfriend who you apparently didn’t care enough about to marry!”

You pushed him away from you and walked over to your desk, pulling your jumper over your head and you looked at him.

“I’m tired of waiting for something that’s never going to happen. I love you with my whole heart, with every fibre of my being, but we have been at the same stage for years, not going anywhere. I don’t want to just be dating. I want you for my whole life and after, and if you don’t want that then that’s okay. You should’ve just said something to me.”

You walked out of the classroom and he chased you down, calling your name.

When Saul reached out, he grabbed your hand and made you stop walking, and he walked in front of you.

“I love you. You and only you. I don’t want anyone else in my life (Y/N), I’ve loved you since we were kids. And when you agreed to go on a date with me I was so excited, when you agreed to be my girlfriend I bragged to anyone who would listen that I had you and no one else could. I was so happy because you were mine, I don’t want that to go away.”

“Then what are we Saul? Because at this point I don’t know. I love you, I do, but I don’t want to stay in this same position not going anywhere.”

Saul took a step back, and he ran his fingers through his hair, looking at you with sad eyes.

“Exactly. We both deserve what we want, and if you don’t want to be married that’s okay.” You whispered, “but I do. And it’s not fair either of us staying in this position.”

You turned around to leave again.

“I’d marry you in an instant!” He rushed out.

You turned around in shock, wide eyes looking at him.

Saul walked over, taking your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips to carefully kiss them and he looked at you.

“I will marry you right here, right now.” He whispered.

“You would?”

Saul nodded, holding your hands to his chest and you stepped forward, looking up at him.

“I want to spend my whole life with you, I want to marry you I promise you I do. I just.. I never knew how to ask. I suppose part of me was scared that if we ever got married people would know I loved you, and anyone after me would come after you.”

“It’s okay to be scared Saul, but this whole school know we’re together. I don’t care if people come after me, because I’ll fight them.”

You took one of your hands from his and placed it over his heart.

“I’d fight anyone for you, with you. I don’t care who. You are my first priority in everything, okay?”

Saul smiled and nodded his head.

“Then marry me darling. Say you’ll marry me here and now, tell me you’ll marry me, please.”

You smiled a little, giving a small hum.

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping to marry someone else.”

Saul rolled his eyes at you and brought his hand up, placing it on your cheek.

“Marry me?”

You smiled, taking his face between your hands you pulled him down and kissed him slowly, and when he smiled into the kiss you smiled back.

You pulled away slightly.

“Of course I will…”

Saul captured you in another kiss, and when he pulled away he brushed his nose against yours.

“Two weeks.” He said.

“Saul that’s not enough time.”

He grinned at you as he stood up fully once more, and he ran his thumb along your cheek.

“Just trust me.”

You nodded and he smiled, leaning down he kissed your hairline and pressed his forehead to you.

“I’ll make it the most memorable wedding ever.”

With that, he walked away and you smiled as you watched him leave.

Saul knew what kind of wedding you wanted, he remembered a conversation you had years ago with one of your friends while you were having a double date.

He knew you wanted something simple, lights, good food, music, you wanted everyone to be involved, students and teachers alike.

You wanted him to wear all white, and you wanted to be wearing all sky blue, you wanted white and blue flowers.

He knew how you wanted your wedding to be, so he immediately went to Farah for help with it all.

“You asked (Y/N) to marry you?” She asked shocked.

“Yes. Will you help?”

Farah smiled and got up, hugging her friend tightly.

“Of course I will.”

When you woke up the next morning, you found Saul sitting on the end of the bed, legs crossed, messing with a small box in his hands.

Sitting up, you stretched a little and looked at him, and you picked up a shirt from the floor and tossed it at him.

“Don’t just sit there half dressed, that’s weird.”

Saul rolled his eyes, tossing the shirt back on the floor and you laughed, crossing your legs as you looked at him.

He opened the ring box and held it out to you, and you gasped softly, looking at the beautiful ring, it wasn’t diamond like most people, you noticed it was your favourite gem.

“Marry me?”

You smiled.

“Yes.”

Saul beamed and he took your hand and the ring, and he slipped it on to your finger, then kissed your knuckles.

You smiled and shuffled over, wrapping your arms around to hug him, and while you were doing that, you grabbed the blanket from behind him and pulled the blanket over his head as you stood up.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

You turned around and shrugged and watched as he stood up as well, making the bed while picking up the clothes on the floor to dump them into the laundry basket.

“See why can’t you do that when you take them off?” You asked.

“Because they’re still going to be there in the morning.”

“Not the point.”

“It is the point. Are you going into the bathroom because if not I’m going in there.”

“Not before me!”

You ran to the bathroom and slammed the door on him, locking it with a little grin of victory.

You went about your day like you normally would, and you noticed if Farah, Sky or Ben saw you they would quickly walk away.

And as the next week passed you noticed that with more and more people.

You were growing suspicious as to how many people Saul had managed to coax into this, but he wouldn’t tell you, and when it was the day before the wedding he stood in the room, your hands in his.

“Farah will come by in the morning, bringing everything you need, and she’ll take you to where you have to go.”

“Why do you have to leave now though?” You pouted.

Saul smiled, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Because it’s bad luck if I see you before the wedding itself. I’ll call you though, I promise.”

You poured a little more.

“Okay…”

Saul laughed, leaning down he connected your lips in a soft and gentle kiss, and you kissed him back but he pulled away after a few seconds.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Saul.”

He kissed your head and left the room, and true to his word he called you a few minutes later, and you stayed on call until you woke up in the morning.

Not long after you woke up Farah came in, holding up two bags.

“Dress or suit?”

You looked between them, and finally you chose the one that you felt more comfortable in.

“Right, change in the bathroom.”

“Ooo bossy. Okay.”

Farah rolled her eyes at you and you grinned, changing into the one you had chosen and when you came back out you found some of the students in your room.

“Hair, and makeup if you want it.” Stella beamed.

You smiled and sat down in the chair while she did your hair, and Terra handed Farah a flower.

Once Stella was finished, Farah tucked the flower behind your ear, in your hair, and Terra used her magic to make it bloom and you gasped softly at the soft blue colour.

“Oh it’s beautiful Terra thank you.”

“You look amazing Professor.” She smiled.

You smiled softly as you looked up at her.

“Thank you so much, all of you.”

“Don’t thank us yet, we’ve got more.”

You looked at Farah confused and she gestured for you to go to the door so you did, and you opened it to find Sky standing in the other side, a bouquet in his hands.

“Sky..” you said softly.

“Congratulations (Y/N). I’m so happy you two are finally getting married. It’s about time.”

You laughed softly, nodding your head.

“It really is.”

He handed you the bouquet and you took it, and he held his arm out to you.

“I know you’re dad can’t be here, so I asked Silva if I could walk you down the aisle. Is that okay?”

You linked your arm with his.

“I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect person Sky.”

He smiled and the three others walked in front of you, leading you towards the quad where Musa, Bloom and Aisha were waiting.

Aisha took a photo and you smiled.

“You look stunning miss!” Bloom grinned.

“Thank you all.”

You heard music start up and they all walked us die, leaving you and Sky standing outside and he looked at you.

“Are you ready?”

You took a small breath, looking at him.

“I am.”

He began to slowly walk you in and you gasped at the sight of all the students and teachers, lined up waiting, it was covered with orbs of lights, and flowers growing up the walls.

And when you looked to the front, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Saul had his eyes glued to you, a smile on his face as he took a shaky breath as he watched you walk down with sky.

You looked so incredibly beautiful.

And your eyes were glued to him, standing in a pure white suit, hair neatly combed, face shaved to just stubble, and a blue flower in his suit pocket.

When you reached the front, you turned to sky and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you sky..” you whispered.

He smiled and passed you over to Saul, who walked you the rest of the way and he stood behind Saul, and Farah came to stand behind you.

“You look so beautiful…” Saul whispered.

“You remembered everything I said..”

“Of course a did…”

You reached up, wiping a tear from under his eye and he laughed softly, ducking his head a little bit as he sniffled.

“God I’m sorry. I said I wouldn’t cry. But.. god you look so beautiful (Y/N).”

“You look pretty good yourself.”

He laughed softly and you both turned to ben who smiled at you both, starting the ceremony.

“Saul I believe you have your vows prepared?” Ben asked.

“Hey that’s not fair you never told me that.” You pouted.

Saul rolled his eyes.

“You’ve had them prepared for years I asked your friend.”

A few people laughed and you grinned at him.

Saul took your hands in his, and held them softly in his.

“I’ve been in love you you since we were kids, I always thought that you were never interested in me, so when you agreed to go on that first date I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. When you became my girlfriend I promised myself I would do anything to keep you in my life. I’ve been told your first love never lasts, but I still you even more than I did back then, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you (Y/N), you’re so beautiful, so caring, so perfect. I love you, and I hope you know this means I’m making you actually change your last name, not to some random name you did last year when you told me you were going to change it.”

Everyone laughed and you laughed at the memory.

“What can I say? Banana-llama was a great name. And I was so, so drunk, they really shouldn’t let you change your name when you’re that drunk.”

“I know, I was there with you. I was the one who told you to change it.”

Everyone laughed again and you playfully hit his shoulder and he grinned down at you.

“(Y/N)?”

You took a small breathe and held his hands tightly.

“When you asked me to be your girlfriend, we climbed up a mountain and I always wondered why you wanted to do that. But when I saw the look on your face that day, I knew one day I wanted to marry you, to take your last name. And I really am sorry I changed my last name to banana-llama, but I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it again. We’ve faced everything together, the good, the bad, the near impossible. I can’t picture a life without you, you were there for me when I was little, just a year young than you trying to run after you through the fields, and you’ve been there for me ever since. And I’ve been there for you. I love you Saul, and from the start of my life to the end of my life, I want to spend every single moment of it with you.”

A few peoples cheered and clapped, and ben smiled.

“Is there anyone who objects to this marriage, if so speak now or forever hold your peace.”

After a minute, he nodded his head.

“Than I pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.”

Saul wrapped an arm around your waist and he swiftly pulled you into him, connecting your lips with his and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him beck.

People cheered and whistled and you pulled away, pressing your head to his.

“I love you so much Saul.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

He quickly kissed your again and held your hand, and he looked at you.

“There’s one more surprise.”

You looked at him confused and he laced his fingers with yours, leading you outside and you gazed in amazement and how beautiful it was outside.

“Just like our first dance.” He smiled.

“It’s exactly like our first dance…”

Saul stood in front of you, walking backwards as he pulled you with him, and you stood in the middle of the patch of grass.

He placed his hands on your waist, and you wrapped yours around his shoulders, both of you softly swaying from side of side.

He leant down, forehead touching yours and you closed your eyes, smiling softly.

“You’re so perfect..” he whispered.

“I know…”

Saul laughed loudly, shaking his head at you and you laughed a little, looking up at him.

“You can’t go one day without sarcasm can you?”

“Sorry. Sorry.” You laughed.

He shook his head again, and looked down at you.

“No you’re not.”

“No you’re right. I’m not, but you love it.”

“Yeah. I do.”

It was peaceful as you guys danced for a while by yourself, and slowly everybody else came outside to join you both and you loved it.

It was the perfect wedding.

Just like you always wanted

[mika-writing]

Only You Can Do This To Me

I have a new AU with Mika and Takeo and I didn't know where to start but I wanted to write something so I just picked a scene and went from there. For context, the "Freakout! At the Cage Fight" (honestly, I reworded just so I could make that joke) refers to the boys going on a date to the Underground cage fight ring/arena that Tak used to fight at before he lost his sponsor and got booted (he was told to throw a match, but the dude tried to stab him, so he killed him oops). Anyway, Mika basically offers to sponsor Takeo instead and, unfortunately, that causes Takeo to kind of lose it because 'why are you being nice to me?????'. I would also like to note that generally, they're both pretty self-centred and cold or apathetic. Mika could probably be diagnosed with ASPD (psychopathy) and Takeo has killed multiple people. Literally the only people they care about are themselves and each other. Too much context? Maybe.

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

Lunch had just broken and Mikael was fighting the urge to pace. James, standing next to him, was griping about something but Mika wasn't really listening. He had spotted Takeo first thing that day, but hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since. Takeo hadn't skipped class once after they had hooked up that first time. It wouldn't have been unusual before that, but this time Mika was worried. The ‘freakout at the cage fight’ had been Friday night, and he hadn't heard from Takeo all weekend. Now he seemed to be avoiding him at school too. If Mika had fucked this up by pushing Takeo too hard and too fast, he was going to lose his mind. He had never wanted someone this intensely. He knew Takeo wanted him too, but the other boy had major trust issues. It's not like Mika blamed him. Mika was usually the one to give people trust issues. He loved to mess with people, to fuck them up, to destroy them. He had never given a shit about any of them. But, fuck his life, despite everything he was, he cared about Takeo. He cared what Takeo thought of him. He needed Takeo to trust him. He kind of hated how important that was to him, but he hated even more the thought of the boy slipping through his fingers. Mikael wasn't used to losing what was his.

Mikael was jarred back to reality by a vice grip on the arm and suddenly being yanked away from his group. Who the fuck would dare treat him like this? He spun his head around as he stumbled along behind the unknown assailant and saw gorgeous, shining black hair. Oh, it was Takeo. The source of his distraction was dragging him off somewhere. Mika had a faint hope that it was for a quickie, but that was pretty damn unlikely. Everything about Takeo was tense. He was frustrated, angry. All Mika wanted to do was soothe him. Wanted to give him everything he had ever wanted or needed. But that had been part of the issue in the first place. For Takeo, nothing came for free. Every apparent kindness came at a price. Absolutely look that gift horse in the mouth because the person offering was always trying to screw you over and use you. Mika making the same mistake again would just make his mood even worse. So he wisely kept his mouth shut as he was pulled into the sports storeroom and his back was slammed against a wall, arms pinned on either side of his head.

“What the hell do you want from me?” Takeo was snarling in Mika’s face. He could see the fear and desperation warring with desire in Takeo’s eyes. He normally wasn’t so expressive, but this was clearly driving him to his limits. And this was the crux of his fear - what was Mika getting out of this? “Why me?”

Was Mika a borderline pathological liar? Sure. But why lie to Takeo? The boy he adored so much could see straight through his bullshit. If he tried to charm and manipulate, all he would do would be push Takeo even further away. And what would normally be a fight against every fibre in his being, came out easy. Because Takeo was the only person that made telling the truth feel natural.

“I want you.” He didn't hesitate in his answer. “Just you. Standing beside me. Kissing me. Fucking me. Choking me. Holding my fuckin’ hand. I don't care. I want to date you. I don't need anything else from you. I just want you to keep looking at me.”

Takeo was trying to get a read on him, trying to figure out if there was anything hidden in Mikael's words.

“But… Why me?”

Another easy question.

“Because I don't have to think about it.” He continued when Takeo looked confused. “I'm never trying to hide when I'm with you. I never have to put on a mask and play pretend. I don't have to mould myself to fit whatever expectations you have for me. You interest me, you make me happy, you look after me. You fuck like a beast, too. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can relax when I'm with you and just be me. Honestly, I don't entirely know why either. But I don't care. Why should I give a shit about the ‘why’ when wanting you just feels easy?”

Takeo's grip on his wrists loosened, and Mika tried not to pout about it. Probably wasn't a good time. He was looking down at the ground between them now, clearly trying to figure something out. 

“But, it has to be secret, right? You want to be with me, but not in public?”

Okay, that had caught Mika off guard in a way he rarely was. 

“What the fuck are you on about?” 

“You don't want people to know, right? Your reputation or some shit.” Takeo still wasn't looking at him and Mika was starting to get annoyed now. “You don't interact with me at school. You wanted a cafe where people wouldn't see us. You don't even stand close to me if we're not somewhere private.”

Oh, for lord's sake. This absolutely adorable, clingy, touch-starved idiot. Mika wriggled one of his hands free and promptly whacked Takeo over the side of his head. That got those deep, dark eyes right back on him. 

“Firstly, I like to pick date spots away from people because I think it's none of their business and the fuckwits I know are nosy little shits. Second, I wasn't overly public, especially at school, because we hadn't had a chance to talk about it, I didn't know what you wanted, and I didn't want to freak you out. Thirdly, can you fuckin talk to me next time instead of this utter bullshit? I have been scared out of my mind that I had chased you away and we could have avoided all these fucking assumptions if you had let me get close enough to fucking talk. You fuck-”

He was cut off by a kiss. It was hard, urgent, but at the same time full of relief and apology. Takeo’s lips slotted against his like matching puzzle pieces and Mikael thought he might actually start believing in a God just from the happiness he felt. If Takeo was kissing him, then it was going to be okay. His lover (his boyfriend? He should check that) pulled away and Mika didn’t even try to hide his needy whine at the loss. He tried to use his free hand to pull Takeo back to him, but it was quickly recaptured and pinned in its original position.

“Are we good then?” He asked. There were probably some additional details that they needed to figure out, but that could wait.

“Mm… Nearly.”

Ok, maybe not all of the details could wait.

“Prove it. Stop hiding me. You want me by your side? Let me stand there. Let people see me with you.”

Mika hesitated. That was the worst thing he could have done. Takeo’s face twisted in betrayal and anger. He tore away from Mika and backed up within the small space of the storage shed.

“Fuck you. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I need you! I would do fucking anything for you! I… Fuck! I would give you everything without a goddamn question. And there is only one fucking thing I want from you! Just one… One thing…”

Shit. Takeo. Stoic, brutal, apathetic Takeo. His Takeo. Takeo was crying. His baby was crying. And he, who took such pleasure in making others cry, felt like his heart was going to shatter into a million pieces. Because it was his fault. He didn’t want this. If it had been anyone else making Takeo this upset, Mika would have slit their throat himself. Why the hell had he hesitated? Why did he instinctively want to hide Takeo away? It didn’t matter. Whatever his reasons had been, none of them mattered. No one in his entire life had ever had him reduced to scrambling for forgiveness, to back-peddling and pleading to get their approval. Until Takeo.

“No, baby, I’m sorry. Please. I’ll show you off. I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine. I swear. I will. I’ll prove it. Please, let me prove it. I can’t lose you. Just… Let me go one step at a time? Like, maybe not immediately start making out in the school corridors? That can happen! I can do that! Just, maybe not right away? I’ll… Hey, my birthday is this weekend, remember? I’m having a house party. You’re invited, obviously. I’ll let you call the shots there. Stand close, hold my hand, make out with me in front of everyone. Whatever you want. Then school. And the Underground. And I’ll take you on a date in the middle of the city. Please. I’m sorry. Don’t leave. I’m sorry.”

God, what the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t ramble, he didn’t beg, and he certainly didn’t apologise. Where the hell was that slick charm and golden tongue? It all fled in the face of this boy. Said boy was looking at him now with narrowed eyes.

“...Will you at least acknowledge me at school until then?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation this time.

A few more seconds passed by agonisingly slowly until Takeo finally breathed out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Shit. I can’t believe I fucking cried. Haven’t cried since I was five or something. I hate that you can do this to me. You’re the only person in the fucking world that could do this. Fine. Birthday party. Text me the details. Until then, you won’t get anything from me. No kissing, no sex, nothing. You can fucking wait. Fair?”

“You’re gonna kill me. Yes, it's fair. But I’m still gonna sulk about it.” And shit, it was only Monday. By the weekend he was going to be pent up beyond belief. “I want you to kiss me now though. One for the road. To get me through the week.”

He was absolutely pushing his luck. Luckily, a small smile grew on Takeo’s face and suddenly he was once more being crowded against the wall. Lips were pressed against his, a tongue was trying to block off his air supply, and his arms were finally around Takeo’s neck, pulling him even closer. This was what he so desperately needed. This was a reminder, a reassurance, that Takeo might be angry at him, but he still loved Mika.

Takeo kissed him deep and long. His fingers were digging into Mika’s sides in a way that would probably leave marks, exactly how Mika liked it. And then he was gone. Chuckling cruelly as he stepped back, turned around, and walked out of the shed, leaving Mika behind, panting and slightly stunned. In the sudden absence, Mikael felt his cock twitch and burst out laughing. He had absolutely deserved that. Takeo had got him good.

Fuck. It was going to be a long week.