#with a sledgehammer in this case
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batrogers · 1 month ago
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Summary:
Link wakes up in a room with no door and only grey mist for a roof, no memory of how he got here except the blood in his hair, and no Fi. And before he can focus on finding his way back out, he has the misfortune of acquiring company who's very interested in his plight...
Rated E for graphic violence and non-con. Torture with body horror, and while Ghirahim may not know what sex is he's very quick to learn what makes Link squirm the most.
Setting is mid-adventure at the Isle of Songs, and prompt from a friend was for a kind of "What happened to Skord Link while Fi was off doing Hyrule Warriors...?"
Not that Link knows that.
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deconstructivesurgery · 10 months ago
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controversial post but i think i'm just too much of an actual adult to be into hlvrai shipping. none of them are kissing on the mouth. none of em.
especially not gordon and benrey. they are however the world's worst roommate. worsties, if you will. gordon gets a notification every time he looks at that uncanny shitass gamer and it says "newsflash: the worst person you know is hysterically funny sometimes" and the funny aspect is just endearing enough that it prevents him from going entirely looney tunes insane
likewise benrey looks at him through the lens of like "man my new friend I found at the end of the world alien event is fucking mean to me sometimes for no reason. this surely has nothing to do with me, benrey, because I am normal and excellent at making friends on PSN." but also he mutually just finds him fun enough that he's genuinely distraught when it turns out gordon actually fucking hates him and isn't picking up on any of his (incomprehensible) bullshit about not wanting to be an antagonist
literally tldr: why would you ever want to make their relationship into anything else when the "wow everyone else here is so strange (mildly lovingly and also with a fair amount of dread and frustration). glad I'm the only normal person here" dynamic is there and 10x funnier than any possible outcome in which neurotic gordon freeman makes out with low res security guard
and also there are literally 3 other deranged individuals ripe for you people's enjoyment. go get them.
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milkweedman · 1 year ago
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Unrelated to everything (would go on my main except for a few irl ppl who follow me) but I'm really out here being like "he/him pronouns for me are fine I don't mind them" which is generally true but compared to my Feelings when someone uses it/its for me which is just. Joy. Kinda making me wonder.
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daisychainsandbowties · 2 years ago
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Lilith + richard siken, crush 
scheherazade // seaside improvisation // litany in which certain things are crossed out // visible world // a primer for the small weird loves // i had a dream about you // the dislocated room // meanwhile
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sniperdadmaccready · 4 months ago
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everyone is so mean to me for having 1 intelligence 😭 I am just trying to get laid ma'am you don't have to be so rude 😔
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uranodioningin · 9 months ago
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I think the main confusion in the Walrus/Fairy debate is in the extent of the question asked by the creature's mere presence
As in, if we're looking at a flat what is more weird, then yeah, obviously the fairy. Obviously.
But some people see the "which would be weirder..." and run through all the basic questions, asking themselves which is weirder or harder to explain or most shocking/frightening:
What is at my door?
Fairies don't exist. Walruses do. Nothing else needs to be said here.
Fairies are the weirder option.
Why is it at my door?
I can speculate on why a fairy, if it existed, might have business with me. Magic quest, testing mortals with riddles, stealing my firstborn. The usual folkloric staples.
I can think of no such motivation that would bring a walrus to my door.
Walruses are the weirder option.
Where is my door?
Most people live in a place that is not the arctic ocean. That is a strange way of phrasing it, but the most essential fact in this whole debate.
If fairies were suddenly proven real, I could speculate on where they might live (underground city, cloud city, invisible city, parallel universe, inside plants, etc.). I cannot speculate on where walruses live, because it is not open for speculation; we know where they live, and it is not where people live.
Walruses are the weirder option.
How is at the door?
If a fairy were at my door, I would be forced to rethink reality itself. Maybe teleportation is real? Invisibility? Maybe it shape-changed into something innocuous and only assumed its true shape when I opened the door? In short, I would be able to speculate on how the fairy made its way un-captured and unobserved to my door.
I would not. Be able. To speculate the same. For a walrus.
The mere presence of a walrus is not sufficient to make me speculate on the existence of teleportation or invisibility, so I am forced to deduce that it came here 'on foot' as it were. There is simply no way a walrus could arrive at my door without my finding out about it on the news or social media long before I heard my doorbell ring.
Walruses are the weirder option.
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petrichoraline · 4 months ago
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I am so so tired of people commenting on others videos demanding a man proposes or writing long analyses on why he is not the one if he doesn't put a ring on it and I want to screammmm
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blondiexbiites · 1 year ago
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are u okay?
I'm fine!
I was only gone for so long because of my new job. My old job had gotten extremely toxic and caused my mental health to drop, so I left. The benefits at my job aren't as great, but the pay is decent enough to support me, and frankly, I'm just happy that I'll no longer be at risk of having an anxiety attack every morning before work.
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luveline · 7 months ago
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hellooo I have a request for Spencer x bombshell! reader (I'm not sure if you've done this before and if you have I apologise!!) but like they're on a case and one of them gets pretty badly hurt somehow & then the other is really worried about them & stuff and then I'm not sure (I think this could be good but not the way that I have spoken about it and so I'm very very sorry!!)
u r so awesome don’t worry!!
cw canon typical violence and injury
Everything is crisp and quiet at the precipice of the stakeout. You adjust your gun where it’s poised over the roof of an SUV away from a moving officer’s body. The negotiator adjusts the megaphone at their thigh nervously, waiting for Hotch’s go ahead. You’re all waiting for it. A hand raised, sending you in, hostage recovered, a long case coming to a short close. 
“Don’t forget your leg,” Spencer says to you under his breath. 
“Trust me, babe, I can’t forget it,” you say back, glancing quickly at him to your left. He’s facing forward, trained on the window where you’d last seen the unsub. The distance between you both and the danger is small, less than three feet of space. You and Spencer don’t have a clear shot, the agent’s behind you better equipped and better trained, but you can make do in a pinch. 
“Hurting?” he whispers. 
“Half as bad as it was yesterday.” 
“I have a bad feeling.” 
“Yeah?” You follow Hotch’s hand. The negotiation begins. You and Spencer don’t talk again. 
The unsub is sour, the victim terrified. When the screaming inside begins in earnest, the FBI rolls inside, confident in taking down the unsub, if a little worried about the victims wellbeing. You and Spencer sweep in less than ten inches away from each other, unafraid, and you don’t see the sledgehammer until it’s hitting you in the jaw, spraying blood like dark ink over Spencer’s pale cheek. 
“I don’t care if that’s what you recommend.” A drag of a soft touch somewhere on your skin. “Sincerely. I want a second opinion.” 
“It’s a mandibular fracture, we have a suitable follow up procedure.” 
“I understand, but I’m doing what she’d want me to do. When she wakes up, she’ll say the same thing, and so there’s no point in starting the paperwork for a procedure she won’t agree to.” 
“I doubt her cosmetic preferences will outweigh functionality.” 
It’s Spencer’s voice, Spencer’s hand on your leg. He’s reaching back to hold you as he defends you. “Respectfully, you don’t know her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. She needs peace and quiet.” 
The doctor harrumphs but leaves. Quiet is restored, and for a while you doze, the only thing at your attention Spencer’s hand where it climbs. He takes your hand. You know his fingers well where they twine between yours. 
A few hours pass by in sluggish slee, the bed elevated to an uncomfortable sitting position. 
“Hey?” he asks, fingertips to the hill of your shoulder. “Are you waking up?” 
You can’t make your mouth form words. Your eyes flash open in shock.
“Hey, don’t panic. I’m sorry, I’m going to explain, but please don’t panic.” 
You wait. 
Spencer stands in a rumpled shirt, hair in his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. “Your jaw is broken, fractured, actually, pretty badly. You’ve had so much pain relief over the last few hours I’m surprised you can even open your eyes, and it’s good you’re struggling to move your mouth because it would only hurt anyways.” He claps your arm gently. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere though, okay? I’m right here.” 
That’s not what scares you; you know Spencer’s gonna stay. It’s not a question. 
Your hand strays up to your face. 
“It’s not bad,” he swears, and perhaps lies. 
“Spence,” you manage, a croak that aches and lisps at once. 
“It’s okay,” he says, leaning down. “Please don’t get upset.” 
You blink tearfully. You don’t remember what happened, just the flash of pain and now Spencer looking down at you like you’re wounded. He sits carefully on the side of your bed and grabs you by the waist, two hands on your sides and arms resting on your stomach, like a hug that hasn’t crept forward. 
“You won’t like the bruise,” he says apologetically. 
“Bad?” you whisper. 
“It’s all the way up to your eye. He also chipped two of your teeth… I’m so sorry, angel. It was my fault.” He thumbs your ribs. “I’ll fix everything. I already talked to your dentist, and tonight they’re coming back to talk about your plastics because the blow split your skin, okay? But you're mostly fixed already.” 
“‘M I… still pretty?” you ask. 
“Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, not half as shyly as he’d usually would. 
You cry panicked, dribbly tears. He rubs shapes into your sides and swears again that it’ll all be okay, and it’s not that you don’t believe him, it’s just that it’s really starting to hurt. 
“Had a bad feeling,” he says, wiping your tears as gently as he can before they can wet the bandaging on your jaw.
“Did you get him for me?” you ask. 
Morgan clears his throat from the doorway to announce his arrival, a coffee cup in hand, pastry bag hanging between his pinky and marriage finger. He sounds like he’s about to laugh, “Did you, lover boy?” He beams at you. “I’ve never seen him pistol whip someone before. You would’ve loved it.”
You groan in agony. Missing out on seeing that is almost as bad as breaking your jaw. 
“I’ll recreate it for you,” Spencer promises. 
“And now it’s time for him to eat,” Morgan says, putting the pastry bag on the bed, “and get some sleep. He hasn’t slept in the two days you’ve been in here.”
“I had important stuff to take care of,” he says, rubbing your side. “While you couldn’t do it yourself.”
“Sleep,” you insist through your achy mouth.
Spencer’s eyes go soft and sad. “I will.”
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mariasont · 5 months ago
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hi hiiiiii!!! could you do a hotch x bau reader where there’s an age difference between them like she’s in her 20’s and she has a crush on him and thinks it’s stupid and the team tease her about it but apparently he has a crush on her too? thank youuuu i love your work so much
Stupid Crush - A.H
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a/n: your wish is my command, thank you so much for requesting i hope you love it <3
masterlist
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pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
warnings: idiots crushing on each other, age gap (20s and 40s), garcia spilling the beans about reader's crush (not cool penelope!)
wc: 1.4k
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Your tennis shoes were scuffing into the padded floor, hands resting on your hips while your bottom lip bore the brunt of your anxious chewing. You were here to train, led by your favorite boss.
But your concentration was slipping, stolen by the sight of that same boss, Aaron Hotchner, who managed to make even the simplest training gear look exceptionally good.
You were trying to be discreet, but with your track record, you were sure that wasn't the case. As the youngest member of the team, you'd grown accustomed to the good-natured teasing--a sort of rite of passage, really. But the teasing took on a new intensity whenever it involved your poorly concealed crush on Hotch.
The whole team knew, and they would never let you forget that they knew, constantly reminding you of the way you laughed a little too hard at his dad jokes, how you were the first to agree with his plans, and how you were always finding an excuse to stay late and help him with paperwork.
And to your absolute horror, their teasing was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Morgan winking at you when Hotch compliments your work, Prentiss sending you mortifying texts anytime he was near, and Garcia had taken to called you Mrs. Hotchner when in private.
You blinked--once, twice--as you attempted to refocus your attention to where Hotch's mouth was moving, explaining something about a wrist release move, meant to disarm a larger attacker from behind--a lesson you definitely should be absorbing. Instead, it took the unexpected call of your name from his direction to snap you out of your daze.
He was motioning you to the front. Your brows leapt upwards, and you looked around, hoping for an out of some sort. Bu the knowing looks and suppressed chuckles of your teammates made it clear--they wouldn't dream of intervening, not when they were about to be so thoroughly amused.
You let out a small, defeated sigh as you allowed your legs to carry you forward, all the while ignoring the team's exchange of looks as if they could just sense how flustered you were sure to get.
"How do you want me?"
You resisted the urge to slap a hand over your mouth as soon as you said it, the room filled with muffled snickers. Hotch didn't bat an eye, all but manhandling you, turning you to face the wall with him at your back.
"Now, when the unsub grabs you from behind, like this," he says, his arm a firm band across your chest in a way that made you have to remember how to breathe. "Your first instinct is to panic. But you need to stay calm and think about your next move."
"That might be kind of hard for her." The comment, possibly from JJ, washed over you, igniting a wave of heat that spread like wildfire across your skin.
"The key here is to use the unsub's grip against them. You're going to twist your wrist towards their thumb. The thumb is the weakest part of their grip. So you'll rotate like this," he guides your hand, "and pull down sharply."
You followed his instructions, doing your utmost to overlook just how close he was to you and the way it was sending your senses into a tailspin, especially as his voice seemed to echo intimately in your ear. 
"Now, as you're doing that, you want to step to the side, out of their immediate reach. This will give you the space to turn and face the threat. Then, with your free hand, you deliver a strike to the unsub's face or neck to incapacitate them."
As he stepped back, air filled your lungs once more. You managed to move independently, but you kept your chin dipped low, hiding your face, terrified by the thought of him noticing the fluster all over your face.
"Let's try that again, but this time, I want you to do it without my guidance," he instructed. His voice was clear, but your attention had drifted to the curve of his cheek, the focus in his eyes. "Remember, swift and precise movements. And don't forget to breathe."
Another round of giggles. You were going to hide all of their favorite mugs later.
You returned to the starting position, fitting snugly against him. This time, his hand on your hip brushed against bare skin, eliciting an instinctive twitch and a giggle from your lips.
"You okay?"
You pressed you lips together, silently thanking the gods as his hand found a new home on your shoulder. A mute nod was all you could muster, not trusting your own words as you repeated his instructions, ignoring the searing heat that seemed to engulf your body.
"Good. That's exactly what you need to do." Your nose and ears were burning. "It's not about strength; it's about leverage." He pressed a hand to your back as he faced the rest of the team. "Alright, take five."
After the demonstration, you and Garcia were huddled by the water cooler, taking a generous sip as if that would somehow cool down your insides.
Garcia leaned in, pushing her glasses up her nose, and murmured, "You know, if you keep acting like that, Hotch is going to figure out that you're not just for his profiling skills."
You sputtered, water dribbling down your chin as you tried to form a denial, but what emerged was nothing short of babble, and you were acutely aware that your expression was likely revealing everything you wished to hide.
A throat cleared behind you, and you felt a chill run through you, your hand automatically setting the cup down. Garcia's eyes turned to saucers, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was--your body's instinctive response to his nearness said it all.
"Could I see you in my office?"
You whipped around, thumb jabbing into your chest as your gaze collided with his. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
Your heart seemed to sink, but still, you obediently followed him, like a puppy. Morgan's elbow connected with your side as you walked by, mouthing a good luck.
Alright, new plan, you weren't just going to hide Morgan's favorite mug, you were going to throw it out the window.
You trailed Hotch into his office, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, your heart pounding as he closed the door with a click--never a good sign.
"I'm really sorry, sir. Garcia's just, you know, she's probably drunk, and I don't have—well, you're definitely hot, obviously, I mean, not obviously, but I didn't mean—,"
Hotch cut you short with the raise of his hand, moving so he was sitting in his chair behind the desk. "What are you talking about?"
"Garcia's comment, about me having a crush on you," you admit, and then your mouth forms the perfect o of realization. "Unless you didn't hear that, and I just outed myself for no reason?"
His brows nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You have a—,"
"Right, so you didn't hear that. Forget I said anything. I'm sure there's something I need to do... somewhere else, so I'll just—,"
You were scrambling out of your chair, silently pleasing for the floor to open up, but you didn't get far, a hand wrapping around your wrist, keeping you firmly in place.
"Hold on a second."
"Please, Hotch. I've humiliated myself enough, don't you think? If you have any respect for me still, let me leave with at least some of my dignity intact."
You were already mentally mapping out your options: transferring, resigning, even fleeing the country. A different name, a new passport--Garcia could probably help with that.
"I hold you in a higher regard than just respect." Each word was diminishing the space between you.
Maybe you could go to Puerto Rico? That's still technically U.S. territory. Or maybe Mexico, though, given Reid's history, it's probably best to steer clear.
"Well, that's good, I guess."
He pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up. "I'm not good at this."
"Good at what?"
"Asking pretty women on dates."
"Who are you asking on a date?"
"Christ." He exhaled sharply before leaning forward, pressing a soft, firm kiss to your lips. 
When he pulled away, you blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, am the pretty woman you're trying to ask out?"
"Is that a yes?"
You couldn't help the wide smile that spread across your face. "That's sooooo a yes."
You looped your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. This time, it was deeper. You decided that you could kiss him forever, and it would still be your favorite pastime.
Maybe it wasn't such a stupid crush.
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taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253
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chubsonthemoon · 5 months ago
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It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3
More under the cut!
Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars
Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.
We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--
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--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:
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Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:
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The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏
Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs
In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:
This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.
The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:
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What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).
There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!
Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)
Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)
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Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.
My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).
Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--
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But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.
Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.
In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:
The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.
My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).
The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.
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All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!
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(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)
Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D
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Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3
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Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.
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And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!
All my love! <3
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drchucktingle · 3 months ago
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Good evening Dr. Tingle! Would you ever like to see a film adaption of Bury Your Gays? I think it would be so neat (especially with all of the tv and movie references present in the novel). If there ever was a movie, who would you want hypothetically cast?
HELLO BUCKAROO this is always a fun question to consider actors for a book adaption. when writing i sometimes CAST IN MY HEAD and sometimes it is just kind of a made up buckaroo. there are really only two characters in BURY YOUR GAYS that were cast in my head while writing and i will mention those below.
ultimately WHOEVER was to trot in these rolls i would be happy with, so lets just consider this a fun way through imagination. i will say that i would prefer to cast queer actors, but also i know the business of hollywood means sometimes that does not work out to get the movie on screens. if bury your gays was turned into a movie i would really have no say in any of this anyway, but queer actors would be my preference when possible.
despite all of that, when writing MISHA, the actor in my head was NOT a queer actor as far as i know (although for some reason us queer buckaroos have given him a pass to play queer characters which i think is very funny and interesting, i guess we just love him a lot regardless) anyway lets kick it off there
MISHA BYRNE
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when writing BURY YOUR GAYS i was picturing none other than BILL HADER. maybe it is because i was watchin a lot of BARRY at the time, not exactly sure why but thats the truth.
that being said i think i would be great to get a queer lead in there. so if that was the case i would say LEE PACE, and of course we have the ultimate fan cast MISHA COLLINS
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TARA ITO
this is the other character that was FULLY IN MY HEAD as i wrote it and mentally cast from day one. it also kind of coincides with the trot of a tv show i was watching at the time which was PEN 15. so tara in my mind was always MAYA ERSKINE
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ZEKE ROMERO
not exactly a known actor in my head, but when considering options i think that OSCAR ISSAC would be very good
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JACK HAYS
there are a few options for this, but i keep thinking of a very clean shaven MURRAY BARTLETT in a suit. another options would be ZACHARY QUINTO especially if we get chris pine as chris oak because thats just some incredible META KIRK AND SPOCK action for the sledgehammer scene.
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now onto the dang villains.
CHRIS OAK
okay so obviously we gotta cast CHRIS PINE in this role (i might have an in). however if that does not work out i would like to suggest COLMAN DOMINGO
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THE SMOKER / UNCLE KEITH
would be neat to have the monsters also play their inspiration. in the case of THE SMOKER i think STEVE BUSCEMI would be incredible
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MRS. WHY / AGENT Y
last buck not least i propose ELIZABETH DEBICKI as MRS. WHY
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if you have not read bury your gays yet but now you are DANG INTERESTED then you can get it here. thanks for reading buckaroos feel free to reply with your own castings. I AM NO EXPERT you know my art just as well as i do so i am curious your thoughts. LOVE IS REAL
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fregget-frou · 2 years ago
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Thank you sm! As an American, I’m actually a little surprised it took that much time it’d take longer tbh, plus allergy tests are EXPENSIVE but hopefully Mr. Eric Redacted can recover^^ also all the fun facts are great and Damien is correct velveeta shell Mac and cheese is confort food peak and he is fully correct
I dont mean to pry into Erics life but referring to your post on Eric yesterday: is he okay? I don’t have patreon did something happen? I’ve only seen you and one other person talk about it so idk what’s going on ://
No worries these are things he’s shared with us willingly and here’s why this man needs to be wrapped in bubble wrap and not move until he recovers
I’m not sure if he’s given updates on the community tab here’s the rundown:
During the end or not long after catacalysm, he posted about having a allergic reaction to antibiotics for what has been though to be a sinus infection this is the 6th
So this keeps going on the 11th he’s been asking doctors and it’s been VERY slow as many mysterious allergy cases and probably the doctor visits are (I’m not American) but he’s making progress and trying to get down to the root cause after this it’s pretty silent with a few videos
The 23 he updates again: his progress is anything but linear he’s been having appointments and conversations with doctors and try different things as when one thing gets better another thing gets worse, very frustrating and stressful.
Now we’re to yesterday. He posts the November 18+ audio apologizing for the late upload. He starts off with saying he pinched a nerve in his back and has a sinus infection and how he’s worried it’s going to affect his voice and the recovery process. So far he’s kinda getting better but life is just hitting him with a sledge hammer.
Ok as I’m typing this I got another update:
ITS NOT A SINUS INFECTION. It’s Covid but no worries he’s doing alright just uncomfortable, he’s taking lost of rest and is hoping he gets over this too and how his voice is shot
Although he did post fun facts about the boys that I’ll show under the cut
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skirter01 · 1 year ago
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AU: Dukes got a strange new teacher, Jason has a weird neighbour, Dick helped a poor civillian with two broken legs, and Tim's got a bad feeling about the knew Wayne Enterprises employee. Who knew they'd turn out to be the same person? Or... Dannys stuck in Gotham, how, why, when? To be confirmed, although, he's positive its something to do with a certain time-turning asshole. But now he's got bats on his tail and a serious case of the munchies. Good thing Sam and Tucker learned early on to slap a tracker on his phone.
----
Smol Teaser
Dick stumbled forwards, chain rattling around his foot as it pulled taunt. He hit the deck.
“No!”
Duke closed his eyes – and for a moment, he wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d just stayed home like he’d planned to – as Danny descended, mouth split into a feral smile and scythe in motion.
Then, “Bang!”
Dukes’ ears screamed as something exploded, a sonic boom erupting somewhere to his right. A fiery green blast flashed through the air, smacking into Danny like a sledgehammer and sending him hurtling into the concrete pillar in a blast of dust and debris.
Duke took in a sharp breath, eyes fettering over where the teacher landed. His eyes locked on Dick, who was staring over his shoulder from his place on the floor.
“Ha! Bullseye!” Duke startled at the voice and whipped to his right. “I am literally a God.”
Had he been transported to Men in Black right now? Because there was no other explanation for what this was right now. The owner of the voice was a young African American, with neat cornrows and dressed in a suit straight out of MIB, save for the sunglasses which were substituted for a slick pair of black framed glasses.
With a huff, the newcomer hefted an enormous smoking bazooka to rest between his shoulder blade and collarbone. He looked over the room with a grin. “Worry not ladies, knight with shining armour reporting for duty.” He proclaimed with a cheeky grin and a wink, patting the weapon’s steel side fondly, “No, need to thank me. Just doing my job.”
There was a click, and the stranger froze, “Who in the hell are you?” Jason growled through his modulator, stepping out of the shadows to the left of new guy, pistol aimed for a head shot.
The stranger’s eyes slid, acknowledging Jason’s gun from his peripheral. “Sure…” He drawled cautiously, ‘shoot the man with the bazooka. Do it.”
Jason pulled out his second gun. Head titling in challenge.
New guy grinned. “Geez, calm your tits. Names Foley, Tucker Foley.” He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a badge. “FBI”
The FBI?
Jason lowered his pistols. “The fuck is the FBI doing in Gotham?” Duke would like to know the same thing.
Tucker shrugged, “Shits and gigs” he said, dropping the bazooka from his shoulder, and catching its nose on his foot before he propped it up against the closest wall. He swivelled, jabbing a finger over at the downed spectre. “Mostly that troublemaker though. Do you mind if I–actually, why am I even asking you?” He stalked over to the cracked concrete pillar and jabbed at foot at Dukes downed teacher, shifting his lifeless body “Oi, Danny.”
Duke didn’t know how to break the news. “Um, Mr. Foley? He’s not–Well, he was killed by something, we don’t know what exactly. I don’t think he’s–yeah…Sorry.” Ever so eloquently put.
Tucker raised a brow, “Are you trying to tell me he’s dead?”
Duke resisted the urge to point out that this Tucker guy did actually shoot him into the wall with a bazooka. He was dead before anyway, but still.
“Obviously,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Some occult thing.”
“Right.” Tucker’s face twisted into a slight frown, and he nudged the body again. “Danny, stop foxing and get up.”
There was a groan and Duke took an involuntary step back.  
Tucker prodded Danny again. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”
“5 more minutes.” Danny rolled over onto his side. “M’kay?”
Dick’s mouth was wide open at the scene. “Are you serious right now?”
Danny popped his head up, hair and face covered in dust, his eyes narrowed. “You’d think coming at them with a scythe would scare them off, right Tuck?”
“I told you it wasn’t going to work.” A feminine voice came from the doorway, and a woman stepped into the room. “But please, feel free to be disappointed.” She was dressed in back cargo pants, and a cropped purple tee, dark hair neatly braided down her back. She leaned against the door, “You missed our anniversary.” She said pointedly towards Danny.
Danny dropped his head back to the floor. “Can we go back to when I was just a lifeless corpse?”
Tucker gwuaffed. “You’re already a lifeless corpse, there’s nothing to go back to, stupid."
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inklore · 4 months ago
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if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.
fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!
i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!
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★ — ONE WORD.
overboard 
runaway 
repercussions 
sledgehammer 
stargazing 
symmetry 
deathless 
honey 
retrograde 
stitches 
gravity 
helpline 
hollow 
suffer 
pushing 
warrant 
want 
wonder 
emotions 
nonchalant 
lavender 
daydream 
nosebleed 
jigsaw 
static 
float 
limbs 
hologram 
careless 
lush 
rotting 
phonograph 
hypnotic 
splinters 
magnetic 
wasted 
lithium 
dealer 
she
candles 
sabotage 
secrets
better
crescendo
deny
phenomenon
nights
guilty
move
criminal
blue
rise
thirsty
strangers
clockwork
closer
hectic
change
somebody
more
misery
like
sour
lowkey
peaches
she
nervous
sympathy
scars
disappear
melody
gemini
cruel
persona
supernatural
nectar
obsessed
casual
tryant
xo
dare
honestly
yummy
out
paradise
nuts
groin
heaven
lost
stardust
tangerine
monolith
lunch
pov
perfume
dealer
tough
arson
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★ — TWO WORDS.
hush hush
night away
heart stop
stone heart
waiting for
black rose
sad kids
spine breaker
look here
autumn leaves
for you
spring day
love maze
bad decisions
take two
wild flower
blue side
rainy days
face off
slow dancing
polar night
like crazy
club heaven
deeper water
romantic devil
hold me
angel eyes
picture you
after midnight
twilight zone
drain me
sorry sorry
pretty please
how sweet
bubble gum
empty box
love therapy
play me
red velvet 
cherry bullet 
midnight guest 
cherry wish 
code words
ghost walk
bad intentions 
atlas hands 
broken crown 
crystallized words 
filthy pride 
fresh eyes 
heavy feet 
hungry ghosts 
imaginary paintings 
neon jungle 
perfect storm 
slow hands 
stop signs 
sad farewells 
untranslated stars 
after hours 
bad liar 
bonfire heart 
bruised lips 
cherry bomb 
damaged goods 
dead end 
fire away 
gunpowder hourglass 
lonely together 
lost language 
old moons 
one dance 
paper knees 
sleepy eyes 
stolen dance 
vice city 
artificial heart 
cry baby 
daylight fading 
dream awake 
empty bottle 
exit wounds 
ghost orchards 
moving stones 
paper walls 
oceans away 
playing fiction 
something wild 
wild thoughts 
everybody’s fool 
eyes closed 
storms incarnate 
writing tragedies 
stereo driver 
soul searching 
party’s over 
backseat driving 
fearful heart 
backwards directions 
nosebleed seats 
high hopes 
lovers rock
wet dream 
selfish soul 
washed away 
rose rogue 
midnight sun 
teenage fantasy 
wandering romance 
sure thing 
wildest dreams 
rock candy
losing momentum 
ruin you 
heart holiday 
sink her 
cut splinters 
hot mess 
frozen devotion 
little star 
blind faith 
favorite crime 
romantic homicide 
those eyes 
play pretend 
plot line 
pretty poison 
intimidate you 
pretty face 
strawberry kisses 
lovers rock 
worlds apart 
desperate/separate ways 
those eyes 
the blonde 
loving machine 
spill blood
someone’s someone
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★ — THREE WORDS.
got my number
happy without me
not over you
crazy for you
back to you
flame of love
just one day
let me know
hold me tight
make it right
closer than this
love me again
still with you
out of love
never let go
love in space
ready to bleed 
bleed for love
between the bars 
can’t be still
cold morning mist 
in cold blood
matter of time 
piece by piece 
ship to wreck 
taut with love 
waste a moment 
can’t see straight 
down and out 
in a blackout 
just like fire 
notes on tenderness 
across the room
fire with fire 
going half-mad
loving to ruins 
rust to gold
send my love 
talking in code 
cradling a dream 
cut to black 
dear to me 
run me dry 
dancing with demons 
kiss and tell 
if you care 
the cry out 
steal this night 
just for now 
heart on fire 
hold my head 
nobody but you 
simple and plain
a familiar sound 
fool for you 
drown your memory 
falling into you 
just like heaven 
warm like beaches 
love that stings 
rotting in places 
moves on you 
save your tears 
a single tear 
light my cigarette 
long nights, daydreams 
boys like you 
love me forever 
hands on me 
like a phonograph 
taking over me 
dug so deep 
touch the ground 
heart shaped box 
where’s my love
tears of gold
lover of mine 
love me wrong
kiss or kill 
exes and why’s 
love is easy 
stupid in love 
easy to love
lost with you 
glimpse of us 
keep you safe 
death with dignity 
just like heaven 
heart of glass 
baby i’m yours 
pull my strings 
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★ — FOUR+ WORDS.
love me a little
happy without me
you can't hold my heart
wishing on a star
give it to me
around the world in a day
waste it on me
this mess is yours
feeling like i do 
on a war path 
blood on the surface 
corner of the sky 
do the divine love 
drinking the corinthian sun 
everything is laced in (add word) 
lost in the moment 
in the nick of time 
mouth like a pomegranate 
the bones you’re made of 
when the mania speaks 
all desire & no thought 
blue in the face 
collapsing and relapsing 
middle of the night 
sail to the sun 
lay down your arms 
falling into the sky 
take me where your heart is 
she’s like the bad weather 
kill for your love 
the cigarette and the smoker 
the match and the fuse 
saint, i’m a sinner 
when the sky comes falling 
pretty little hand in mine 
even when the sun don’t shine
staring at the sun / sunset 
tangled up with you all night 
paper airplanes flying 
maybe i’m a fool 
tastes like rock candy 
blood in a lemon
(a) heart ready to die 
fate is losing its patience 
at least we feel alive 
death for your secrets 
someone’s gonna ruin you 
dancing in a crowded room 
smell you on my clothes 
always taste like you 
leave me wanting more 
hunger for (insert here) 
swim before you drown 
put your hands on me 
drink my (these) tears and cry 
i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 
so high we never stood a chance 
i’d break down anytime for you 
maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 
i only breathe so that i breathe with you
a worn out cassette 
lips on my cold neck 
talking in my sleep 
make me feel like someone else 
locked inside your heart 
hooked on her flesh 
it’s bloody and raw 
the angel of small death 
just a couple sinners 
smiles cover your heart 
charmer and the snake 
stuck on your thumb 
if i killed someone for you 
dancing with your ghost 
i miss you, i’m sorry 
woman of the hour 
shut up and look pretty 
queen of the night 
devil in a dress 
the thought of you 
to be your lover 
falling over you 
just like a movie 
love on the line 
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starlost-mochi-x · 3 months ago
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Low-key can I pls request Chris comforting reader on her period because I'm on my right now and I want him as my personal hot water bottle.
Thank you!!
omg first request!!
hopefully this meets your expectations hahah... i wrote reader having a really bad period... hopefully that's fine for you <3 feel better!
he comforts you on your period - bang chan
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pairing: bang chan x reader
summary: you're struggling with your period and chan helps you out
genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, lil bit angsty. mentions of undressing, feeling nauseous & dizzy, cramps and period pain, reader has a period (obviously)
a/n: comments are appreciated... and whoever's reading this, feel better! and eat some dark chocolate <3
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You groan for the fourth time as another debilitating cramp whacks you right in the gut, followed straight after by a dizzying wave of nausea. You're helpless to do anything but whine and writhe weakly on the bed, tangling the sheets and causing uncomfortable lumps of the blanket to pool up around you. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending.
You can't even call for Chan.
He's working from home today due to the severe weather, shut in his little studio down the apartment hallway. The rain clatters and thunders against the windows and balcony door, speckled with tiny crystal shards of hail ice. He's probably busy working away at some song while on call with the rest of 3RACHA. You can picture him busily writing down song lyrics in his notebook, headphones and black cap askew on his head, and hand messily smudging the dark, scented ink of his words on the page. His pretty, dark eyes shining, wide and focused as he does what he does best.
That pleasing mental image of your boyfriend is quickly chased away by another wave of nausea and you curl in on yourself, fighting the desperate urge to scream with whatever you have left. You didn't bother taking painkillers when the first cramp hit this morning, thinking you could muscle through it. Every time, you think you can handle the pain, and every time, you're proven completely and utterly wrong. And now you're immobilised on the bed, unable to do anything but face the bloody wrath of your monthly cycle.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Groaning, you shift achingly slowly to the side, trying to alleviate the pain. For a moment, you consider calling for Chan, but you doubt you'd be able to shout loud enough, and more so, you don't want to disturb him. The comeback is soon, and he was stressed enough at not being able to go to the company after seeing the state of the weather. He'd woken you up with a kiss, ordered breakfast to be delivered to the door, and disappeared, only pausing to throw on a hoodie and his usual cap. The studio door had shut and you had heard no more. He's been working all morning. He had said to try not to disturb him unless you really needed something, but you understood. He had a lot to do. But...
Biting your lip guiltily, and then wincing at the dull pain pooling in your stomach, you do your best to slide off the bed. It doesn't matter how much it hurts; you need painkillers. And right now, Chan can't afford to be distracted, so you muster up all of your strength to sit upright.
One foot touches the cold floor, and then the other. Both hands fly to your stomach and you double over, hair brushing your knees as you wait for the dizzying nausea to pass. It feels like you're being slammed in the gut with a sledgehammer set on fire. Attempting to regain your bearings, you sit up and wait for a few minutes. The pain dulls for a few moments and so does the headache, so you shakily stand, reaching for the wall in case your knees give out. Walking to the kitchen is a colossal effort, and a slow one at that too. The short walk down the hallway feels like a year.
Finally slumping against the counter, feet numb from the cold tiles, you take a glass from the dishrack and fill it halfway with water, spilling most of it on the counter in your hazy, aching state. Your vision is spotted with stars as you reach up on tiptoes and open the medicine cabinet to reach the painkillers.
You swallow two and move to make your way back to the bedroom. Turning, you're suddenly hit with the most awful, searing, intolerable pain. You jackknife to the floor, knees throbbing from the solid impact as they thud against the tiles. Leaning heavily on the cabinet, you rest your forehead against the cool, slightly chilled surface, and feel a liquid smearing onto the cupboard door. Pulling away slightly, you realise you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your body. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending but even worse than before.
Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, every heave sapping your energy. Sagging forward, you rest your face against the cool tiles, trying to stay conscious. Your surroundings blur out, replaced with an unpleasant echoing ring and the sound of Chan's footsteps.
Chan's footsteps?
He's holding his drained waterbottle in one hand and his phone in the other, eyebrows furrowing as he reads some lyric notes he typed earlier. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he turns into the kitchen and is immediately met with the sight of you slumped on the floor, coated in sweat and curled up like a dying insect in the summer.
His eyes widen and he drops to his knees, phone clattering to the side and waterbottle clanging loudly. The sound makes you wince.
"Love? Hey-" his warm, calloused hands run over your shoulders, panicked and wide-eyed. "What happened?"
You can't even respond.
Chan swears a few colorful, fluent phrases as he stands and dashes down the hallway, returning with a damp rag. He gently but hurriedly mops the sweat off your forehead and nape before tossing it aside and carefully lifting you into his firm, toned arms. Deadlifting you from the floor, he carries you back to the bedroom and sets you down gently, pulling the rumpled covers back. He rushes out of the room for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes. Hurrying into the bedroom, he sets a few things down on the bedside before gently freeing you from your sweaty clothes.
In another scenario, you would be embarrassed, but right now you can't care less. It feels freeing and the cold air in the apartment seeps into your body, providing a welcome coolness. He lifts a hot water bottle and places it onto your lower stomach, tucking it slightly into the waistband of your underwear to keep it in place. He presses down lightly and you groan weakly, the heat providing almost immediate relief from the aching.
You don't register what happens after that; only the feeling of the damp cloth sweeping over your forehead and neck and Chan's warm, gentle touch keep you connected to consciousness. He begins to sing softly, lulling you into the heavy, dreamless sleep of the sick. HIs voice floats in the air like a wisp, light and airy and lilting, yet deep, accented, and rich. You gather all your remaining strength.
"Channie," you croak.
He looks up, brows knitted together in worry. He stops his ministrations, hand hovering over your shoulder.
Tears well in your eyes. Whether it's from the jumbled mess that the morning has been, the maelstrom of hormones, emotions and guilt in your system, the debilitating pain, or Chan's seemingly endless love, you're not entirely sure. Your voice is an almost inaudible whisper.
"I'm sorry i disturbed you. I went to take painkillers so i wouldn't disturb you because i know you're busy with the comeback-"
He cuts you off, expression gentle yet concerned. "I know i was busy, but you should have called me, love. Look at the state of you."
A hot tear spills down your cheek. "I'm sorry, Channie."
He shushes you, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "Don't apologise, yeah? If you need me, i'll come to you. Please don't ever feel that you're a bother to me or that you're disturbing me. Especially when it comes to things like this," he rubs your hipbone softly with his thumb, in soothing, relieving circles.
"Channie, can you cuddle me?"
He smiles softly. Pressing himself to your back, he bends his knees, spooning and tucking you into his chest. A surge of intoxicating warmth seeps pleasantly into your body and you sigh contentedly. His toned arm snakes around your waist, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach so you don't have to hold it there yourself. Kissing your neck softly, he nuzzles into your shoulder, telling you to sleep and that he would be there when you wake up. It feels so warm, so cosy, so safe. But the guilt of having tore him away from his work doesn't slip your hazy, fatigued mind.
"Channie, i'm sorry for being a bother."
He exhales a small, sincere chuckle through his nose, tucking his head further into your shoulder.
"You're never a bother to me, love."
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a/n: how'd i do? do we like it? likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated <3
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