#I bought a pack of fabric scraps at the fabric store

[im-just-a-simple-tailor]

Also I made this outfit for a friend of mine (: it was my first time sewing something with just her measurements without it being possible for her to try it on before it was finished. so much maths -_- I was really scared that it wouldn’t fit but it was perfect, also the corset back makes it somewhat adjustable

details and progress pics under the cut <3

She wanted a corset top made from a specific fabric that I had left from something else, so the first challenge was that I didn’t have a lot of fabric left and there was basically no room for error 😅 then obviously I had to make a pattern based on her measurements and I also added a white silky lining on the inside because the fabric isn’t very comfortable. The boning is made of big zip ties and for the corset back I first wanted to use actual eyelets but because of the fabric they didn’t work but just ripped a hole into it 🥲 so I used these plastic loops that are attached to a strip of super firm fabric on the inside of the top. The skirt is a half circle skirt (again), they’re so simple and they just look the best in my opinion (:

Here’s the skirt on me, I really love the waistband, and how the top looks in the back when it’s laced up (you can also see where I had to fix the hole ): )

[winxanity-ii]

RESONANCE

ship: various!bnha x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 5.5k a/n: just wanted to spit out a lil one-shot, not sure if I'll make a full fic from this but who knows lolol; tell me what y'all think…

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

All your life, people gravitated to you.

It was something that felt almost like gravity—a pull that made others orbit around you, with secrets and vulnerabilities spilling out like some cracked, overflowing dam.

They couldn't help it, and it wasn't something you actively tried to do either.

Your Quirk, Confidant, was a force of its own, turning you into an unwitting confessional booth for whoever happened to cross your path. Whether you were ready for it or not, they opened up.

There had been days when you tried to keep it off, to put up the wall and protect yourself from the sheer emotional weight that others dumped at your feet. But it took too much effort, too much focus to constantly repel that need in others.

If someone came to you, tearing up over a breakup or raging about the stress of everyday life, you'd let them; it was just easier to let it run its course.

And, sure, there weren't any physical drawback—no energy drained or migraines induced. But to you, there was a burden no one else seemed to recognize: the reboot.

Once someone started talking, your mind went into what you had nicknamed "short-reboot mode." It was like something within you flipped a switch, and suddenly, every part of you worked to cater to them.

Your eyes would track every shift in their expression, your ears catching every wobble in their voice. You'd analyze, break down every cue, every breath, until your responses flowed with practiced ease—the words that person needed to hear, the exact tone that made them relax.

Sometimes, you'd offer a soft, comforting touch. Other times, you'd say nothing at all, just be a presence there to anchor them.

When it was over, and they'd leave—well, that was when things got weird.

Not for them; no, for them it was almost as if a fog rolled over their memory of the whole thing. A protective influence that made the event seem far-off, unimportant, a comforting haze to keep them from fixating on you.

For you, though? You'd collapse in bed later on, mind swimming with everything you'd absorbed, while the Quirk worked behind the scenes to sort and compartmentalize every scrap of information.

It all got stored away—permanently—so you'd never forget.

And because of that, you hated it.

You hated how your brain worked on autopilot for everyone else, how every emotional exchange was something you'd retain forever while the small, everyday things slipped right through the cracks.

You'd put down your phone and lose it within minutes, or take things into a room one by one when you could easily grab everything at once. Your grandfather loved to tease you about it, always laughing as he cackled out, "Book sense, not a lick of common sense!"

Today, it was no different.

You groaned as you walked down the stairs from your bedroom, a yawn escaping your lips as you shuffled along.

You looked every bit as tired as you felt—oversized hoodie hanging loosely from your shoulders, the fabric wrinkled and slightly twisted, and your oversized socks pooling around your ankles.

Your clothes were a patchwork of dark shades, clinging to you in a way that made it clear you'd grabbed whatever was closest without a second thought. Your hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, secured with a shoelace of all things, because you couldn't find a single rubber band.

You sucked your teeth at the thought, recalling how bit by bit, you had given away every one of your hairbands over the last few weeks to others who needed them. "I just bought that bulk pack," you muttered under your breath, feeling the mild frustration bubble up as you ambled into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped into the bright atmosphere of the kitchen, it felt like you were walking into another world. The colors, the light, the very mood—all of it was the opposite of you. The kitchen was warm, sunlight pouring in through the curtains, highlighting the cheery yellow walls.

Your mother was already bustling around, her cotton candy pink hair tied neatly at the base of her neck, her slender form moving with practiced grace as she prepared breakfast.

Her skin was a deep, rich shade of brown, and her eyes were bright yellow, almost glowing, with small opal-like moles at the corners that caught the morning light. She looked like something from a storybook, too perfect for the mundane scene unfolding around her.

The moment she noticed you shuffling over, she gasped softly, a bright smile blooming across her face. "Good morning, ____~," she sang, her voice lilting and sweet. "Did you have a good rest?"

You grunted in response, barely managing to pull the chair out before plopping down into it, your face half-hidden by the hood of your sweatshirt.

"That's great, sweetie~," she chirped, entirely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. She set a plate of food in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek. "Eat up. Your big brother will be taking you to school soon—you know how he gets about wanting you to be on time." She gave you one last gentle pat before twirling away, humming to herself, lost in her own vibrant little world.

It wasn't long before the rest of your family joined you. Your father and brother came down the stairs only seconds later, both of them just as bright and awake as your mother.

Your brother's footsteps were loud and purposeful as he approached, his hand ruffling your hair as he passed by. "Morning, sis," he said, his voice cheerful, a bright grin lighting up his face.

"Morning," you mumbled, barely looking up.

Your father followed, his broad shoulders taking up the space in the doorway for a moment as he stepped into the kitchen. His blue hair was tousled but neat, the same shade as the sky on a crisp morning. His green eyes were sharp but softened when he looked at you, a smile spreading across his face.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, little love," he said, his voice deep and warm, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You sighed softly, nodding in response as they settled at the table.

Your mother moved between them, setting their plates down before finally taking a seat herself, her smile unwavering as she looked at all of you.

The scene was perfect, almost unreal in its harmony—the three of them chatting easily over breakfast, their voices blending together with the soft sound of birds chirping outside the window.

Even though it was a regular, cloudy day, the kitchen seemed filled with sunshine, the warmth radiating from your family like a beacon. Everything about the morning—the bright voices, the gentle smiles—made it feel mythical, as if you were living in a fairytale.

It was always like this: your family's moods almost too perfect, too light. How could they not be, though, when they had you? Built-in therapist, problem solver, always there to smooth over any tension, any hint of unease.

They could always be at their best because you carried the weight for them.

As everyone finished up, your brother stood, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. Your mother got up as well, moving to grab everyone's packed lunches for the day.

Your father turned to you, his gaze softening as he addressed you. "____," he started, his voice gentle but with a hint of something else—hesitation, maybe? "Could you come by my agency later after school? We've got a case... or, well, a patient. I could use your help again."

You hummed, a small sound of acknowledgment as you poked at the last bit of food on your plate. "Sure," you said, though the idea of it made your shoulders droop a little. It wasn't that you didn't want to help, but the thought of more people, more emotions, more weight, felt heavy already.

Your father's smile brightened, and he reached over, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, little love. You know it means a lot to me." He worked as a hero, and it wasn't uncommon for him to ask for your help.

He ran an agency called Constellation, and his quirk, Record, a photographic memory that worked both by touch and mentally, made him one of the best at what he did. He primarily worked with police and undercover heroes, solving cases that required an eye for detail that few others had.

Ever since you'd gained your quirk, he'd relied on you for the more delicate matters—the emotional weight of things that even he couldn't quite process alone.

A few seconds later, your brother returned, his grin blinding as he held out your backpack and lunch. "C'mon, sleepyhead," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "I got your stuff. Let's go catch the train."

You pushed your chair back, standing up with a stretch. "Yeah, yeah," you muttered, taking the bag from him. You turned to your parents, waving lazily over your shoulder. Your mother and father stood side by side, your father's arm wrapped around your mother's waist. She towered over him with her lithe frame, his head just reaching her collarbones. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart!" your mother called, her voice as sunny as ever.

"Have a good day, little love," your father added, giving you one last smile before you followed your brother out the door.

The cool morning air hit you as your brother led the way down the sidewalk, his usual confident stride carrying you both towards the train station.

You glanced over at him, watching as he talked animatedly, his hands moving to emphasize whatever point he was making. He was always like this—full of energy, especially in the mornings, unlike you, who was still trying to wake up.

As you both settled into your seats on the train, your brother continued to talk, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of the train. He was telling you all about his third year at Shiketsu High, his eyes sparkling as he described how different and fast-paced everything was compared to the previous year.

He even started rambling about his work-study with Fatgum, who he mentioned was an alumnus of Shiketsu High, and his fellow collegues, some guys named Suneater and Red Riot.

You glanced at your brother as he spoke, taking in his features. He looked like a perfect mix of both your parents.

His hair was a blend of your mother's bright pink and your father's deep blue, swirling together like cotton candy, giving him a vibrant and almost ethereal look.

His eyes were a mesmerizing combination of green and yellow—a galaxy of colors that seemed to shift with his mood, as if reflecting the emotions he felt around him.

Scattered across the bridge of his nose were luminescent, opal-like freckles, glowing faintly in the light as he spoke. They weren't just decorative; they were part of his Quirk, Emotilink—which was inherited from your mother—would glow and shift in color depending on the emotions of those he touched, allowing him to feel the emotions of others.

Together, their abilities made them almost like human mood rings, their markings betraying the emotional states of anyone in their vicinity.

Your brother was tall and broad-shouldered, his husky build making him seem both strong and comforting. His skin tone was a perfect, ambiguous shade—not quite pale, not quite dark—striking a balance that made him stand out without fitting neatly into any one category.

He carried himself with a confidence that only seemed to amplify the presence of his quirk, his luminescent markings always a glowing reminder of what he could do.

You, on the other hand, looked nothing like the rest of your family.

When you were younger, you'd had your mother's yellow eyes and your father's blue hair. But after your Quirk had manifested, everything about you seemed to change.

Your features had shifted, becoming more subdued, less distinct, until you were left with an appearance that could only be described as forgettable. Your hair had dulled to a mousy brown, and your eyes had lost their vibrancy, now a muted shade that seemed to blend in with the rest of you.

Sometimes you wished your Quirk was just that—forgettableness. Maybe then you wouldn't feel the weight of everyone else's emotions pressing down on you.

You were pulled from your thoughts when your brother grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you up from your seat. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with his usual enthusiasm.

You barely had time to react before he was practically dragging you out of the train and towards the school.

It was a routine you were used to by now—your brother carrying you along, making sure you got where you needed to be without any issue.

He didn't even break a sweat as he deposited you in front of the school gates, his hands moving to smooth out your clothes and pat down your hair, completely uncaring of the looks you both were getting from the other students.

"Aaand... there!" he said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. He handed you your backpack, his grin widening. "Alright, sleepyhead, I'll meet you here after school to take you to Dad's agency, okay?"

You nodded, adjusting the straps of your backpack. "Yeah, okay," you replied, your voice barely louder than a mumble.

He bent down, staring you right in the face with a grin. "Have a great day, alright?" he said, his eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. He reached out, ruffling your hair one last time before turning to head towards his own school. "See ya later!"

You watched him go, a sigh escaping your lips as you turned to face the school. You never really understood why he insisted on taking you to school every morning, especially when his own school was a twenty-minute walk in the opposite direction.

But then again, he'd managed to maintain perfect attendance for the past two years, so he must have been doing something right.

With another sigh, you pulled out your headphones, hoping that maybe—just maybe—they would be enough to keep people away today. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

As you walked through the gates and into the bustling courtyard, you could already feel the familiar pull—the curious eyes, the hesitant glances, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You pushed your headphones over your ears, the music drowning out the noise around you, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

You stayed behind in the classroom during lunch, deciding to give yourself a break from the constant buzz of students. The cafeteria was always too loud, too busy, and you needed a moment to just be alone.

You pulled out a packet of fries you had bought earlier, munching on them absentmindedly while staring out of the window. The clouds rolled lazily across the sky, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, letting the quiet calm your racing mind.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard your name being called. You turned, startled, to see your homeroom teacher hovering near the doorway. "____," she called again, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your teacher, Ms. Hachiko, was hard to miss. She had a distinctly bee-like appearance, with large, round eyes that shimmered like polished onyx, and her entire body was covered in soft, fuzzy yellow fur.

Two delicate antennae sprouted from her forehead, and her long hair was pinned back into a neat bun. She floated a few inches off the ground, her wings fluttering quietly behind her.

But it wasn't just her that caught your attention. Standing behind her, with his shoulders slouched and an unmistakable frown etched across his face, was none other than Aizawa Shouta—the underground hero, Eraserhead.

You felt your eyes widen, and you choked on the fry you had just been eating, your throat seizing in shock. You coughed, hitting your chest several times as tears welled up in your eyes.

Both adults stood there, awkwardly waiting as you hacked out a few more coughs. When you finally managed to catch your breath, Ms. Hachiko gave you an apologetic smile. "____, you need to speak with Eraserhead here," she said, her antennae twitching slightly. "I'll leave you two to it," she added before fluttering out of the room, her wings buzzing softly.

You were left alone with Aizawa, who ambled over to the desk beside you and dropped himself into the seat, his tired eyes fixed on you.

He was wearing his hero uniform, his capture weapon loosely wrapped around his neck, and his dark hair hung messily around his face. He looked exhausted, deep lines etched beneath his eyes, but even then, there was something undeniably striking about him. He had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect, no matter how disheveled he appeared.

He stared at you for a moment before finally speaking. "Look, kid, I'm not sure why Nezu sent me here," he began, his tone blunt, "but apparently, you're needed for something. Honestly, you're a child, and you shouldn't even be involved in this. But here we are."

You blinked at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that thee Eraserhead was sitting in front of you, talking to you. He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Have you heard about the recent villain attack on the UA first-year training camp?"

You nodded slowly, recalling the news you had heard about it weeks ago. You remembered hearing that it was the same group of first-year students that had already had a run-in with villains at the USJ. "Yeah, I heard about it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "They got some crappy luck..."

Aizawa gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's been rough on them, that's for sure. The thing is, my boss, Principal Nezu, wants you to help the students who were most affected by the attack—Class 1-A. The other students have been able to get help from their assigned therapists, but Class 1-A... they're different. They've built a wall around themselves so thick that not even the best world-renowned therapists can break through. They think this is just part of being a hero, that they have to suck it up and move on."

You frowned, a slight pang of pity tugging at you as you listened. You knew what he was asking before he even finished explaining. It wasn't like you had a choice anyway. If Nezu, the head of UA, was asking, then your small, out-of-the-way school, Okiyama Municipal High, wasn't exactly in a position to say no.

With a heavy sigh, you slumped back in your chair, dropping your half-eaten packet of fries onto the desk. "Will I be back before school is over?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed with your lack of enthusiasm. "Yes, you'll be back before the end of the day. Nezu already spoke with your parents. One of your father's sidekicks will pick you up from UA bring you straight to his agency. It shouldn't take too long—you're just meeting them and getting a quick assessment."

Shoulders slouching, you could already picture the long, draining night ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you pushed yourself out of your seat, nodding reluctantly. "Alright, fine," you muttered, gesturing for Aizawa to lead the way. "Let's get this over with, then."

Aizawa gave you a curt nod, standing up as well. You followed him down the hallway, the silence between you two heavy but not uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before you were out of your small school building and on your way to UA, sitting beside the underground hero in a rather unremarkable car, driven by a UA staff member.

You were about to meet the students who had faced villains twice now, and you knew that whatever you were walking into, it wasn't going to be easy.

When you arrived at UA, the sight that greeted you was different from what you remembered. You had been to UA before, a few years ago when your brother brought you along during his campus tour while deciding where to attend high school.

Back then, UA had been impressive, sure, but now it looked almost like a university campus—new dormitories and additional buildings scattered across the grounds, giving it the appearance of a bustling college rather than just a high school.

Noticing your confused expression, Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff but explanatory. "After the training camp attack, UA opened up dormitories to house students. Villains have become more audacious lately, targeting students even outside school grounds. The dorms are an extra precaution, meant to keep them safe."

You nodded, taking in the new structures as Aizawa led you through the campus. It made sense, given how much had happened to these students already. You felt a small pang of sympathy for them—it couldn't be easy, constantly looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack.

Eventually, you arrived at one of the dorm buildings, and Aizawa opened the door, ushering you inside.

You stepped into a spacious common area, expecting to see a dozen traumatized, weary teens gathered together. Instead, there were just two people sitting on the couch, their attention fixed on the television in front of them.

The room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the tension you felt brewing inside you.

The moment the door opened, both heads snapped towards you, their bodies relaxing slightly when they realized it was Aizawa. The redhead sitting closest to the door smiled brightly, while the blonde beside him scowled, his eyes narrowing.

"Kirishima," Aizawa grunted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation, "where is everyone?"

The redhead—Kirishima, you assumed—grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, some of them went out shopping, Sensei. And Deku and Shoto are out training."

Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. "I thought I told you all to stay put because you had an important visitor coming."

The blonde on the sofa snorted, his voice dripping with irritation. "What important guest, Sensei? Don't tell me it's that pipsqueak over there," he said, jerking his head in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback for a moment before letting out an affronted scoff. "Pipsqueak? I have you know, I'm taller than average," you sniffed, crossing your arms defensively.

The blonde gave you a withering look, scoffing again. "In what? Middle schoolers?"

Before you could retort, Aizawa intervened, his tired eyes narrowing at the blonde. "Bakugo, stop," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "I was told to bring you here, so even though not all of them are here, you've got two clients. Have fun," he said, giving you a small wave over his shoulder as he left the room.

You stared after him, your stomach sinking slightly. "Clients?" Kirishima asked, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at you.

You forced a smile, feeling awkward under their curious gazes. "Uh, yeah. I'm here to... help you guys. I guess you could say I'm kind of like a counselor," you explained, scratching the back of your head.

Kirishima's eyes widened in surprise before his expression broke out into a wide grin. He jumped up from the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides to extend his hand to you. "Well, that's super manly! So young, yet already helping people like this. I'm Kirishima Eijiro," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You took his hand, shaking it a bit hesitantly. His grip was strong but friendly, and you couldn't help but notice the small details about him—his bright red spiky hair, the way his eyes seemed so genuine and open, the muscular build that made it clear he took his training seriously.

There was an energy about him that reminded you of your brother—that same relentless positivity.

Lord, it seemed you had found someone who could give your brother a run for his money.

"I'm Hanabira ____," you replied, your voice a bit more steady now.

The moment your name left your mouth, Eijiro's eyes widened even further, and he let out a gasp. "No way! You’re The Emotional Hero: Emberpulse's sibling?!"

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah?"

Eijiro's grin grew impossibly wider as he continued, "Your brother talks about you all the time! It's like I practically know you already. He says you're always helping people out, even when it's not easy, and that you have this way of making everyone feel better just by being around."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. "How did you even know? Our last name isn't exactly unique, and we don't look alike at all."

Eijiro blinked, then broke out into another grin, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know, honestly. Your brother just said you gave off this aura of immediate kindness. Like, you just have this energy that makes people feel safe, you know? So when you introduced yourself, it kind of clicked."

A gruff voice cut in before you could respond. "Only you would make such a dumbass connection, Shitty-Hair," the blonde from earlier muttered, standing up from the couch. He turned to face you, his intense eyes boring into yours.

He had a scowl permanently etched onto his face, his posture confident and almost confrontational. His blond hair was unruly, and you couldn't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible twitches of annoyance in his expression—like he was constantly teetering on the edge of irritation.

Eijiro just laughed, seemingly unaffected by the insult. "That's Bakugo Katsuki, my best friend," he said, gesturing to the blonde. Katsuki sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes but not bothering to say anything further.

Eijiro turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "So, uh, what exactly are you here for?"

You sighed, holding your hands up. "Like Aizawa-san said, I'm here to help, but it's not exactly like I'm a therapist or anything. I didn't ask to be here either," you said, your tone a bit defensive.

Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms. "We don't need a damn therapist," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.

You gave him a flat look, deciding not to engage in an argument. Eijiro, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Hey, don't mind him. He's just... like that," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Uh, would you like to join us? We were just watching a movie."

You shrugged, figuring you might as well. "Sure," you said, trying to sound casual.

Internally, you figured it was better to stay and at least try to connect with them, given that the rest of the students weren't even there. Plus, Katsuki seemed like he'd be impossible to talk to seriously right now.

The three of you settled on the couch, and Eijiro quickly started chatting again, asking you questions about your brother, your Quirk, and your school. He leaned in a bit closer whenever you answered, his eyes bright with curiosity and genuine interest.

You could tell he was trying to understand you better, his questions growing more specific as the conversation progressed.

At one point, he asked about your brother's favorite hobby, sharing how they had bonded during training sessions over their shared love of working out.

"You know, your brother's kind of like a legend," Eijiro said, his eyes wide with admiration. "I know I already told you, but he always talks about you, and I was really excited to finally meet you. He says you're his biggest inspiration."

You felt a warmth spread across your chest—a mix of pride and embarrassment. You gave a small smile, shrugging. "He always exaggerates. I'm really not that special."

Eijiro shook his head vigorously, his red hair bouncing slightly. "No way! I can totally see it. You've got this calming vibe. It's like... you make everything seem a little less scary, you know?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you could feel a slight buzz in the back of your mind—a familiar haze that signaled your Quirk almost activating.

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of your body language, realizing that your posture had subtly shifted to mirror Eijiro's, your smile matching his intensity.

Quickly, you broke eye contact, focusing on Katsuki instead, who was watching the interaction with an annoyed expression.

He caught your gaze, and his scowl deepened. "Don't let Shitty-Hair butter you up. He's got a habit of getting all sentimental," Katsuki muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Eijiro laughed, giving Katsuki a playful nudge. "Aw, come on, Bakugo. Just trying to make our guest feel welcome."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind his irritation. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't go crying on us, idiot."

The conversation shifted, and Eijiro asked more about your school life. You found yourself relaxing again, the haze receding as you focused on answering his questions.

He seemed genuinely fascinated by even the mundane details—how you spent your days, what subjects you liked, even your least favorite lunch options. There was a warmth in his attention, a genuine desire to know you, that made it easy to keep talking.

Time seemed to pass quicker than you expected, and even Katsuki, though gruff and standoffish, eventually chimed in with a few sarcastic comments.

You noticed that, despite his harsh words, he never actually dismissed anything you said. It was as if he begrudgingly accepted your presence, though he made sure to keep up his rough exterior.

At one point, Eijiro nudged you lightly with his elbow, a grin on his face. "You know, I think you and Bakugo would get along great if you gave it a shot. He acts tough, but he's got a good heart. Right, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki's glare could have cut glass. "Don't drag me into your dumb ideas, Shitty-Hair," he snapped, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable.

Eijiro just laughed again, unbothered, and you couldn't help but smile. It was strange, but you found yourself feeling a sense of comfort in their dynamic—like, despite their differences, they had a bond that was hard to break.

After what felt like a couple of hours or so, there was a knock at the dorm door. Aizawa entered, followed by one of your father's sidekicks, who gave you a nod. "Time to go," the sidekick said, their voice gentle but firm.

You stood up, giving Eijiro a small wave. "I guess I’ll see you around," you said.

Eijiro grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "For sure! And thanks for coming by, ____. It was... nice."

You nodded, turning to follow Aizawa and the sidekick out of the dorms.

The ride to your father's agency was quiet, your mind still replaying the interactions you had just had. You found yourself mentally sorting through the profiles you had unconsciously built on both Eijiro and Katsuki so far.

Eijiro was enthusiastic, open, and incredibly genuine—his positivity seemed almost endless, and you could tell he was the kind of person who made it his mission to uplift others.

He had this earnestness that made you feel at ease, like he genuinely cared about the people around him. He was always leaning in, listening intently, and his questions showed just how interested he was in knowing you.

There was something infectious about his energy, and it reminded you so much of your brother—the way they both could fill a room with warmth just by being themselves.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was more of a closed book. He was gruff, blunt, and had an intensity that made it hard to know what he was really thinking.

Yet, underneath all of that, you could see small glimpses of something else—his scowl wasn't always as sharp as he wanted it to be, and he had moments where it felt like he begrudgingly accepted your presence.

He never outright dismissed you, and while his comments were sarcastic, they didn't carry the kind of malice you might have expected.

It was almost like he was challenging you to see past the tough exterior, to prove that you could handle being around him.

When you arrived, your father was waiting for you, his expression stern.

He grabbed your arm, his eyes serious as he looked at you. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low. "The villain you're about to interact with is dangerous. He was part of the Vanguard Action Squad—Mustard. He's unpredictable, so I need you to be cautious. Understand?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Got it, Dad."

He gave you a small, almost reluctant smile, his grip on your arm loosening. "Good. Just... be careful, alright, little love?"

You nodded again, feeling the weight of what was about to come settle heavily in your chest.

This was just another part of your Quirk, another responsibility you had to shoulder—whether you wanted to or not.

A/N: so what's the verdit? will it be good as a fic or just do a one-shot series???

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Are your scissors dull? Would you like tips regarding sewing needles?

If you're having a difficult time cutting through material, your scissors likely need sharpening. There are two ways I've used for this, and they're both very effective.

The semi-free version:

Take aluminum foil, a long sheet of it, and fold this into about four layers.

Cut through all four layers, in thin strips, with your scissor. I make the strips less than half an inch apart, and cut the long way. You will need to be careful because the edges of the foil will be sharp.

After you get through all four layers at least six to eight times, fold what's left of the sheet in half. This will create eight layers, cut through these until the sheet is gone.

Test your scissors by cutting through scraps. I've made children's scissors sharp enough to cut through four layers of fabric when I use this method.

The inexpensive version.

Purchase this. You can find it in fabric stores, craft stores, and even a department store (like Walmart) in their crafting supply section. I bought mine at Joann Fabrics, when they had a sale, for less than $8.

Scissor sharpeners are super easy to use. Just follow the instructions they come with. Basically, you slide them in, and pull them out like you're cutting.

You won't need to do many passes for most scissors, but you will make children's scissors very dangerous.

For very small scissors, like applique or embroidery types.

Use the semi-free section.

You will only need two layers for the first pass, not nearly as much as you would for larger blades. So make the sheet smaller.

After five or six passes, fold the layers in half for four layers. Make several more passes.

Test your scissors to see how sharp they are. If unsatisfied, make more passes through the foil layers.

I hope this was helpful!

For hand-sewing sharpening needles, the little strawberry attached to the tomato pincushions serves that purpose. Stab your needle through that a few times. I find it works only so many times before I simply need to switch to a new one.

As for machine sewing needles, sharpening them borders on pointless. I suggest using Organ Needles if price is a big issue for you. My experience with Organ Needles has been phenomenal. The low price and high count, and the fact they last just as long as the name brand stuff you find in supply shops is just a bonus.

I have a pack of 100 sewing needles for less than $30. Compare that to the $10-$20 a package of five or ten name brand needle packs cost. Even if half the needles in my 100 pack start dull, it's still less than what I would otherwise pay. Thus far, this hasn't happened.

My needles go dull swiftly when I do any foundation paper piecing, stitching through fabric and paper, and paper dulls scissors* real quick. Imagine how fast that is with a needles, making hundreds of stitch through all those layers. If I notice the stitches look messy, I switch out my needle. I still have over half left, and have been using the same pack for around a year now.

If you're wondering how to dispose of the used sewing needles, may I suggest a plastic bubblegum container? I used to chew gum all the time, but had to stop after my doctor explained it's very bad due to my TMD/TMJ (and having hEDS also explains why large pieces of gum would dislocate my jaw). Because of my habit of keeping perfectly acceptable containers, I had two empty ones. One is used for my handsewing, like a little trash container. Opening and closing the floor models is irritating, and the fact I have a cat means all trashcans in this house must have a lid. Anyway...I use my second to hold used needles, broken or bent pins, and after four years of using this, the thing isn't even a quarter of the way filled. It'll likely be decades before emptying it will be necessary. The hard plastic edges make it impossible for any of the pointy ends from puncturing, thus making it safe for all and no trash bags will suffer.

[cityandking]

Stillness, armor, footwear, favorite, and change for Daichi! And Favorite for Eniko and Branwen as well!

thanks!! // oc asks: character design edition

EVERYONE

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

DAI — honestly he really loves his tennis shoes. they're so nice! nothing like a good sturdy pair of sneakers, as it turns out. upside of being back in selto: he can get a new pair of shoes now that this pair have been through the fuckin wringer.

ENIKO — oh boy. eniko's entire schtick is not having anything to care about so much that losing it would hurt. he definitely has some favorite knives, but that's a practical sort of favoritism. I think he might get a little attached to his hairtie? it's literally just a scrap of fabric but. y'know how you feel naked when you're missing your hairtie? he'd have something like that.

BRAN — her HAT! it's a magic hat!! it's also just a Really good hat and a pirate should have a good hat. (she also has a signet ring from her mother that she always wears)

DAI

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

Daichi tends to stand or sit upright when he's at rest. Even when he's nervous or angry or whatnot, he's not fidgety. He might clench his fist or his jaw, and he's got a face like an open book, but he's got good physical self control. The weight and bulk of his armor does make him tend to stand up or sit up straighter than he might without the extra weight, but years of accounting for his uniform and armor has ingrained that discipline in him even when he's out of armor.

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

Dai wears an adamantine breastplate that he bought while traveling. It doesn't have any real emotional connection since it's just gear he purchased, but it's definitely proven useful (shout out to that adamantine anti-crit mechanic)! He's good about taking care of his gear, but it's been a bit rough going lately, and it could probably use a good buff after the swamp monster and the mountain weather and the sulfurous cursed abyssal ocean shit. He also has a +3/4 shield he fished out of the guts of a colossal forest beast which is CRAZY helpful with a whole bunch of shit. He's got the Shield Master feat and the extra +3 to select Dex saves has been a lifesaver. Literally.

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

Tennis shoes!! He discovered sneakers when he got to Selto and he's got a good sturdy pair with good arch support and a nice tread. Way more comfortable than the garrison-provided boots. Technology is great and all but if he could take one thing back to Airedon with him, it's his pumped-up kicks.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

When he died, he did a pretty hack job cutting all his hair off. He had locs up until that point but he shaved it down as close to the scalp as he could with a knife and a pack of drug-store razors. (He had a, uh, pretty rough talk with his god before he got resurrected and needed to make some Decisions about it.) It's grown back a bit by now—I think he might braid it. If he survives the next hour.

[the-coping-dragon]

So curious about my brain. Why does it function in this manner?

I can’t decide anything. I can barely type right now because it’s so hard to ignore the urgent cry, “Wait, what word should we use? Wait! That didn’t sound right. You’re doing it weirdly. It’s wrong. Wait wait wait. What’s the best word to use?”

It’s hard to use words. I am afraid to be unclear, or to convey a message I didn’t want to convey, or to speak nonsense. What if I am not understood? What if I am mistakenly understood in a way I didn’t intend? What if I am understood, and the understanding is vile and putrid?

-begin simulation. Study later to determine status.

I am afraid to get dressed. What do I wear? Which shirts fit me right now? My body fluctuates weight and shape (i think that’s normal? I don’t know) and so I keep a selection of clothes that can fit a variety of my potential forms. My hips are getting slender with HRT—do these pants still fit? What about the pants I can only wear after a long term illness has caused me to loose significant weight? Will I fit into those?

What if I pick a shirt, and it seems okay, but halfway through the day I realize it’s too tight and grabby? I should make it a habit to lift my arms up and check if it will go up and expose my belly. I like my belly. Should I even care if it gets exposed? People on purpose do that. Crop tops. But doing something on purpose is often acceptable in regards to things that are unacceptable if done accidentally. What if I’m seen as lazy? Do I even care? Why do I care, if I do?

Socks. I open the drawer and they might as well be some pack of hissing creatures. They’re bad to touch. Some have little extra fabric for cuteness. The extra fabric hurts. Or just bothers me. The bothering is often worse than the hurting. Is there a tiny little ball of lint inside that will make me feel panicky when I notice it? Is there a hair that will wrap around my toes? Is there a hole? Careful to put them on inside-out. That puts all the extra fabric outside. The pretty design is against my skin, neat and trimmed and smooth and not itchy or painful.

Bra. Bra. God I am always scared of not finding it. I have to wear it to work. Any customer who has breasts and no bra is scathingly mocked the second they leave. I can wear no bra, if I wear a hoodie over my shirt, and tuck my shirt into my pants to hold my breasts somewhat still.

No bra means hoodie. Hoodie means hot. I can’t handle being hot. I get hot so easily. 70 degrees with Niagara Falls streaming out of my hair. Soak it up with a paper towel and the paper towel is completely soggy. Drips down my temples, drips down my neck, drips down my back. Hair weighed down by my sweat, like I just got out of a rainstorm.

Underwear. Easy. Thank goodness I have about 20 pairs of the same version of the same brand of underwear. I’d rather wear boxer briefs or boy shorts because I look hot as fuck in them. But the silky fabric is my choice. Silly, no extra fabric to bunch up around the legs. Minimal. Feminine. In any color, feminine. Black, blue, maroon, still feminine. Snug and familiar. Haven’t bought underwear since my grandma took me shopping. She died 5 or 6 years ago. Some are from about 6 or 7 years ago. Some are from the only other time I’ve ever bought underwear, 12 or 13 years ago.

My socks are all from the same brand, same store, same purchase. A mall that doesn’t exist anymore. I grabbed a pack. Two. Three. Four. Oh my god, giddy with unrestrained greed, four packs of socks, perfect for me, because I have to wear matching socks and now I have dozens of matching pairs.

I can’t get more socks. Many are set aside as scrap fabric because of holes. I can’t get more. They wouldn’t match. Even if I could purchase the same version of the same brand, they’d be new and not worn out and not stretched out. Like a hand towel that used to match the others except you forgot about it and all the others are pale from behind washed and now there’s one shining pristine one that doesn’t match.

I don’t need my towels to match, thank god. The towel cabinet hardly has any towels that match. Just a couple. Most are just whatever ended up with me. A couple soft gray ones—maybe from my grandpa, when he died and everyone tried to get enough of his stuff to fill the void he left. A couple purple ones my mom brought. A beach towel from at least 8 years ago. A towel that always stinks just a little and could be as old as I am. A gigantic one that I never use because it’s annoying to wash. One has a fox hood and was labeled for kids, but I’m small and my hair is short so it is enough for me.

Sometimes I just dry off with larger hand towels even. Also a collage of interwoven lives. Who originally bought this one? Me? An ex? My wife? Her mom? My mom? Was it a Christmas gift from someone? Did we accidentally take one from someone’s house? Two or three are absolutely 10-20 years old. Ragged and frayed, the longer strands tied together with love and tenderness. Some are from 12 years ago when my mom impulse bought towels for the first time in my life and they weren’t very good and didn’t really absorb water. She and I both have some, like a family burden we bear, from that time everyone was gone and it was just her and me and we didn’t know how to buy towels so we just got some from a slightly upscale dollar store (yknow, not just a Family Dollar, but one of the slighter larger chain stores that even carry cheap furniture). One has a fox on it because I like foxes so it was given to me. One has beaches on it because my mom likes beaches and it was given to her but it doesn’t work very good so she gave it to me.

Getting ready is so stressful. Find socks. Find bra. Find shirt. Pants. Everything buried underneath a mountain of scarves, from that one time I was at a thrift store and the scarves were like 25 cents and I’d always wanted some scarves so I indulged and bought 10 or so for me and my wife to share. Blankets I can’t get rid of because they were comfort items once. Giant pillow comfort item, torn and leaking stuffing but I can’t get rid of it. Maybe there’s some secret pants under it that will fit me. That happens a lot. Years pass and I forget about a pair of pants or a shirt and then—there it is, slightly out of view underneath something, all this time.

I can’t decide what to do first even. Use the bathroom? But, I should start coffee so it’s brewing while I use the bathroom. Especially because my cat and I have a scheduled Brush The Cat event that occurs immediately after I use the bathroom first thing in the morning and first thing after work and last thing at night. She has so much fucking fur lol. She needs it brushed and she only lets me brush it at those times.

Coffee then bathroom then brush cat. Then? Eat? Coffee done yet? No? Can’t eat without coffee. Clothes? No, can’t get dressed until after eating and brushing teeth (to prevent food/coffee/toothpaste getting on my clothes, which simply occurs with the regularity of a cosmic event, so I must respect it and build my life around it). I can get socks though. Bra. I can find my pants and shirt and set them aside.

Almost time to leave. Oh I didn’t eat or get coffee or medicine. I got distracted while looking for my pants because I found a shirt that I’ve never seen before and I can’t fathom how it crossed the threshold into my house. Did I even find my clothes?

Quickly eat and meds and chug coffee and throw on pants and shirt and—ah, forgot socks, go get socks, don’t let pants touch anything because I only wash them once or twice a week because they’re the only pair that fit and I can’t afford to damage them in the wash because then I will have to pretend I didn’t notice and wear them to work anyways because it takes me at least a year and a half to work up the courage to buy new pants.

Almost late for work. Not quite. Traffic was okay. Sit in the car and stare at the clock. Not allowed to clock in early. No overtime allowed. Well, I don’t want to clock in at all. I want to go home and take off my Work Clothes and bra and socks and go back to bed. It’s time to clock in. I clock in a little late because I don’t want to clock in at all. The manager scolds me for clocking in before I put up my items in my locker. If I have stuff to put up, I need to come in a few minutes early and do it before my shift starts. I feel emotional pain as I hurry through the tasks—put this drink in my locker, put that one in the fridge, did I put up my keys yet? Did I write my name on my drink in the fridge? Did I put up my phone yet? Did I put up my keys? Did I leave my pen in my locker or my register?

I’m late getting to my register because I can’t decide how to count my till. I like to stack the quarters in fours, to count each stack as a dollar. It’s much harder to do it with dimes. They’re so small and thin and easy to bump over, even if stacked as 50 cents. Nickels are too big to line up in rows of four stacks, but too small to line up as three stacks per row without leaving a gap that bothers me. I count them one at a time and then have to count them again because I count wrong. I try to count the pennies as they fall from my hand and I guess the exact number based on what it rounds to. I try to write the date on the paperwork but I can’t find my phone. I find it in my locker.

I can’t decide if I should disinfect my register or sweep first. Maybe get more sacks. Did I bring down a pen? Did I lock it in my register accidentally? That’s fine—I’ll wait until someone pays with cash to get it. Unless I forgot it in my locker. If I did, I’ll need to find one to borrow. Should I get an extra just in case? Should I clean my register first? Should I sweep? What size of bags do I even need?

Should I have the hand sanitizer sitting on the left or right? Should I put my pen down flat or lean it against the register so I can see it easier? I didn’t get bags yet. I didn’t sweep. I’ll kick the lint and dust and tiny trash out of my area like a cat kicking litter. Now there’s nothing to do. I pick a piece of skin off my finger before I realize what I’m doing. A little bit of skin is sticking up from it. I’ll cut it off later with fingernail clippers. I should put some hand sanitizer on it. I’ll tear it off neatly real quick. It leaves another tiny piece of skin sticking up. I’ll get it this time. This time. Where are my fingernail clippers? I had some to keep at work, but I haven’t seen them in a while. Days? Weeks? Months? I absentmindedly tear skin off another finger. I sanitize it and then try to gently tear off the extra without pulling up any more.

Stop that. Stop. Hands on the counter. Palms flat and facing down. No, thats weird. Rest them on their sides, palms facing each other. No, that’s weird too. Clasp your hands together. Perfect. Nice and professional. Get a little more sanitizer, your finger is bleeding. Blood is a biohazard. I don’t have time to get a bandaid, but I should try to keep the blood in a localized place. I’ll wipe it on my other palm, and then sanitize my hands again and that’ll make it safer. I’m not sick so it should be fine. I mean, I could be sick. Pathogens often are dormant because it can be easier to spread if your host doesn’t know they’re sick. I’ll wipe my hands on my….shirt? Will the sanitize stain? Pants. Well, they might stain too. Jacket? No, that’s kinda dirty. So are my pants actually. My tummy? I don’t want hand germs on my tummy.

I go get a paper towel and set it on my counter and use so much sanitizer it drips onto the paper towel, and then I use the paper towel as a towel to wipe my hands clean. Okay.

My cuticle is a little jagged from picking at it the other day. There’s a piece that I could take off. I don’t like the feeling of it snagging on fabric. And knowing it’s there is very bothersome. I can rub it gently to see if it would come off easily. Maybe if I rub a little harder. I can scrape it a little with my fingernail to make it detach maybe. I can try to cut it with my nail. Or maybe my pen. A paper clip might be sharp enough.

No, stop, hands on the counter. Clasped. There. Just stand still and wait for a customer.

I experiment with a few different locations for my hand sanitizer. They’re all kinda awkward. None are perfect. I try them again and again and still they’re not perfect. I wonder if I should keep it somewhere else nearby. Maybe if I move this, it’ll fit here… No. And now that cord is in my way because I bumped it. Does the cord fit anywhere easily? The extra could go down here, but what if I forget it’s there? The extra could wrap around here, but it looks kinda silly and then I have to unwrap it if I need to move anything. It would fit there perfectly, except it just won’t stay for some reason. I’ll tuck it there and it’ll stay. It’ll stay this time. Maybe another try. Okay. Good enough.

I need a distraction. I already have a finger bleeding and this cord awkwardly stuffed over there. I have been out of the house for one hour and I will not be back in my house for another eight hours at least, potentially nine hours, probably eight and a half or so. If I’m doing math right. Am I? I can use the number keys on my register to help me count. One, two, three… Three makes noon… So four is one… Did I do five already? Wait, do I count when I say five, or when five is finished? Which way have I been doing it?

That gunk between the six and seven key are still there. I shouldn’t clean it. I’ll accidentally press a button and then forget to delete it and then ring up something wrong. I’ll clean it and then remember to delete it. I need a proper tool. Maybe a paperclip would work. Or my pen? Is my pen slender enough? …No. Maybe a folded bit of receipt paper. I’m not going to waste receipt paper though. I’ll wait until a customer leaves their receipt and then use that.

Wait for customer. Stop picking at finger skin. Fingers feel like they’re claustrophobic and need to move or they’ll scream with my mouth. I let them drum on the counter because no one is close enough to hear. Right? No one is close. No one is close. Okay, maybe a little quieter in case someone sneaks up on me. Maybe I’ll do it silently. Silently is not enough stimulation. Maybe I’ll do some psychical therapy. Stretch thumb. Stretch thumb. Stretch thumb. My hands are a little dirty from something. I’ll sanitize them. I’ll get some extra on the spot where I was bleeding. Okay, stretch the next finger. Or I could do my other thumb. Which is best? Which will help me remember? I could write it down. I’m not supposed to write things though. I’m supposed to look at the isles to make sure everything is okay and no one needs help. I can do that while stretching my thumb.

I’ll do this finger, and then this one, and then this one, and—wait, I forgot to also stretch them with my arm rotated the other way. Which way was I stretching them even? Okay, I can do both on each finger and then move on. Wait. I could also be stretching them in this third way, and then this fourth way. I’ll never get done though. It’s better to stretch all my fingers a little, than only ever do half thoroughly and neglect the other half. I’m always doing that. I should start with my other hand and just do one stretch, and then come back and do another once the first set are done.

What time is it? Is this clock one of the clocks that is right? Or is this the clock that is 2 minutes slow? That clock over there is always 14 minutes slow, and based on that clock, my clock must be… What is 10:23 minus 14? Or I could add 2 to 10:23 so it’s 10:25, and then subtract 14, which is 10:11, which means… Well, I guess it’s around 10:20. I don’t need the actual time.

Which finger was I on? Maybe I should do my arms first. I could also be stretching my heels and ankles. My knees really need it but I don’t like to do that stretch at work because I have to touch my pants, and my pants feel dirty. I guess my hands are already dirty. I can stretch and then sanitize them. Stretching my left one.

Do I have the ability to stand still and do nothing? I’ll sanitize my hands and try it. Clasp my hands? Flat on the counter? Is one more “standing still and doing nothing” than the other? I’ll try both. Clasped feels more nothing than palms down. Now what do I do? I should find something to do. I could clean my keyboard… No, Im waiting on a customer to leave their receipt. I could do my stretches. That’s not “standing still and doing nothing” though. I can look at the isles. We’re still out of that one. Oh, that spot is empty but I see there’s more over there, misplaced. That’s not good. They’ll bring down more if they think the spot is empty. I can’t go move it though. I’m not allowed to leave my register.

I wish I could ask someone else to do it, but I don’t want to boss anyone around. They won’t like me if I’m telling them to do more work. Even if they aren’t working right now. I see both of them standing back there talking. I guess they could be talking about work. Mmmm no, I think I hear them talking about sports. I never stand around and talk about sports. That’s so lazy. How can they even do that, when that spot is empty and we’re going to overfill it because someone will bring down more before realizing there’s already some here, just out of place? How does that not bother them?

I wish it didn’t bother me. I’ll try not to be bothered. It’s fine. It’s okay. See? Nothing is causing harm. Well, except that they’ll overfill it, and then that’ll mean some gets put in the place where extra stuff goes, which means someone will have to remember to check there before bringing more down when it starts to look empty again. They always forget to check. I see some extra stuff right there that they forgot to check. I can walk that way when I go to break and fix that one thing. But it’ll still overfill the extra spots too. That’s more work for everyone. It’ll get overlooked, and then just keep growing as an issue until someone is digging to the very back and trying to figure out why there are four extra cases of this one thing in the extra spot spot when the shelf has been empty for weeks because we won’t order any more because the system won’t notify us that we’re out because we aren’t out, we have four cases, they’re just all forgotten in the extra spot spot, so the shelf looks empty for weeks and then the item looses its spot and then it all has to be reorganized to make room for it again.

And you KNOW who that task will fall to. The people who work hard are the ones who’ll notice it. If those guys talking about sports just fixed it now, it would save so much work for other people later. I could mention it casually to them. I could say, “Is that a new product over there? I’ve never seen it.” And they’ll realize that it isn’t new, it’s just misplaced. Is that mean? Manipulative? Is there a way I could say it nicer? Or more innocently? Maybe if I’m just honest. I can say “Hey there’s some stuff over there, it needs to go over there instead.” But that’s bossy. But it’s honest. It’s less manipulative. But I don’t want to annoy people.

Maybe I’ll say, “Do we have any in stock? I thought I saw some,” and they’ll realize it’s over there. No, they’d just bring more down. I can’t even ask them because they’re across the store.

I accidentally picked another piece of skin off. I sanitize it, and then try to take off the extra and make it bleed. I sanitize it again and clasp my hands and look at the isles like I’m supposed to. The isles that need work. The isles that have staff here to work on them. The isles that have staff that are talking about sports. Oh, wait, they’re working now. On other stuff. Now I can’t ask. They’re already busy. Why did I not ask when they weren’t busy? I should have just said something. Now it’s too late.

Just find something else to think about! Do your stretches. What did you do already? Did you do your whole left hand? Did you do just the first stretch, or the first two? Or the last two? Or was that yesterday? Did I do my right hand today? I always do my right hand and then forget to do my left. Did that happen today? Did I try to do my left first? Did I do the whole left?

I have got to figure out how to stand here and do nothing. How does everyone else do it? What do they think about? I asked the other day, “What are you thinking about” to a cashier who was standing still and doing nothing. She said “Nothing… Well, food. I’m hungry.”

Oh! I should think about food. I’m too scared to cook. But if I think about it enough, maybe I’ll get more familiar with it and not be afraid! What should I think about? What step? Should I think about chopping ingredients? But I really want to make this specific thing, and it doesn’t even involve chopping. Measuring stuff out? Should I think about using the green measuring cups from my grandpa, or should I use the black ones that don’t have sentimental value? I might find cooking more pleasant if I use the green ones. But if they break, I’d never cook again. I can use the black ones. What was I measuring?

Baking soda? Do I have that, or would I need to buy that? I have either baking soda or baking powder, but I don’t know which. Do I still have flour? I know I need another can of that one ingredient. I don’t even know the full recipe. It stresses me out to think about all the ingredients I might need that I don’t even know about. There’s already too many! Salt? Sugar? I’ll just focus on baking…soda? Powder?

Do I wash my hands first? Should I stand by the microwave? Over the sink? Over the trash? I could stand over the stove, and then if I spill any, I could add vinegar and clean the stove. Well, if it’s baking…soda. Or powder. I forget which one cleans stoves. Where did that knowledge even come from? Is that some fake knowledge I got from a sitcom or is that real knowledge?

I can stand by the trash can. Does it come in a box or a can or a bag? Baking soda is in a box right? What about baking powder? How do I get it from the box to the measuring cup? I don’t think the measuring spoon fits in the box. I could pour it out, but what if it’s clumpy and doesn’t come out right away and so I shake it and then the clumps crumble and I pour way too much into the measuring cup and all over the trash can?

Maybe I should buy extra, in case I spill the first box into the trash can. Or I could do it over some paper towels. If I spill, I could just fold the towels up like a funnel and dump it back in the box. A real funnel would help a lot. It would help with getting the powder in the spoon too. And with making chocolate milk. Do they have funnels at the grocery store? They have pots and pans and gloves and whisks. They probably have funnels. But I’ve been wanting a funnel for months—years? If they had funnels, surely I’d have seen one while shopping and remembered to grab it. Maybe they don’t have funnels. Where else could I get one? Probably a bigger store. I could go to Walmart but I hate Walmart. I could try a dollar store, but do they have funnels? I can’t look it up. My phone thinks I’m in another state and so it doesn’t actually tell me if a store near me has an item. Plus the websites aren’t even accurate these days. I know my store isn’t accurate. I wonder if we ever found that case that our system claimed we had, but it wasn’t located. I still think that’s because that other case was mistaken for the first case. But I don’t have access to those papers so I can’t know for sure. I could check the system and see if it ever got adjusted.

No, stop thinking about doing extra work! Think about cooking. What have I already thought about? Nothing? I didn’t think about anything. What do I even think about? Picking out a knife? Or a bowl? Stirring stuff? With a spoon or a spatula? Whisk? Fork? I don’t know what to use. Sometimes it doesn’t matter, but it might matter. I could make two batches, and stir one with a spoon and one with a whisk. Then I’d need two bowls. I could use that bowl for mixing, too. I don’t know if I could make two batches at once though. What if I added the baking soda to one, and forgot the other? I could make a list to check things off. I could do that now even. I’d start with baking… Soda or powder?

Okay, well, I can think about another part of cooking. Putting stuff on a pan. Wait—a pan? A cookie sheet? A skillet? Do I need to put butter on it to keep stuff from sticking?

Oh, wait, I could use an aluminum muffin tin, the disposable kind. Of course I’ll try to reuse it, but at least I won’t ruin one of my good pans if I mess up.

Oh shit a customer. He’s going to need the big bag. Oh fuck I forgot to get bags. What if he doesn’t want a bag though? Or two small bags? Should I ask? Should I say hi first? Is it cash or card? If it’s card I can grab a bag while the machine distracts him, but if it’s cash then I’ll need all the time I can get to count the money. Hi? Cash or card? Big bag? One bag? Two small bags? Carry it out like that? I should greet them first. Hi? Hello? How are you? Find everything alright? Is this all for you today? Oh my god they’re at the counter I have to say something. Wait, it’s still before noon!

“Good morning!”

Okay so I do talk quiet, and also I forgot to speak up, so maybe he didn’t hear. Or he’s ignoring me. Is he being rude? I don’t care if he is. Maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to reply. I kinda wish it was normal to not speak during social interactions. I won’t say anything else because I don’t want to pressure him to speak if he doesn’t want to. Unless he didn’t hear me—then I should say something or else I’m being rude. Okay his total is $54.74… I should say that, and my script about cash or card…

Ugh, I always mix up my numbers though. Come on, say them right! Say fifty…four… seventy…four…. Wait, is that right? No, It’s fifty four, seventy four. I think I almost said fifty seven forty seven. Forty… wait. Fifty four…

“You’re total will show at the top when the green light shows.”

Okay, good save. Wait cash or card. Oh, he’s grabbing cash. Okay, I can’t get a bag, but—oh now he put a card in the machine. I can go grab a bag. From… Oh. There are no big bags.

And he pressed the wrong button… Should I tell him or wait for him to realize? They get grumpy when I tell them sometimes. I could say “Will you try again?” I can’t blame it on the machine because the managers say it makes us look bad. I don’t want to tell him it’s his fault. Then again, someone has to. Why should he suffer in ignorance, for my sake? It’ll be awkward to tell him but then he’ll get it right next time.

…Mmmmmh, I don’t want him mad at me. He might wait for me to leave and stalk me home. I could pretend like I don’t know he did it wrong. But not blame it on the machine. I could pretend it’s my fault, but it’s not my fault, and he might get mad anyways. Mmh. It’s not my fault and I can’t lie about that. It would annoy me. I couldn’t get the words out if I tried.

“If you…” Oh, he’s trying again. Okay! It worked! Wait. Now he’s pressing buttons. The transaction is over. Why is he—is he trying to write his signature with his finger? “You d…” Okay he stopped. Okay.

“Here’s your receipt.” Now for my Super Script. “Do you need a bag?” Yes. Men don’t like to admit they need anything. Normally I say, “Would you like a bag?” But I phrase it this way to increase the chances of him not wanting a bag. Will it work? He’s thinking. I can see he doesn’t want to admit he needs a bag. But I can also see him thinking “It looks trashy to carry something without a bag.” He’s got a fancy watch and a new-looking shirt. He might be too fancy to carry it without a bag. Damn bougie people and their social roles. But he’s also an independent guy. Probably doesn’t believe in lotion or straws. He won’t want a bag.

He speaks: “That’ll be alright.”

… What will be alright? Having a bag? Not having a bag? I asked if he needed one, and he said it’ll be alright. What does that mean?

Oh god now we are just staring at each other. I hate asking what they mean. What am I gonna say? Did you want a bag? That makes me sound stupid! I could give him a bag, but if he specifically said he didn’t want one, then it would be weird to give him a bag. Especially because I have to give him two smaller bags for his items, because we are out of big bags.

Maybe if I make eye contact he’ll be nicer and won’t think I’m stupid. Okay. Eye contact. Okay that is one solid second which is my limit but he is going steady.

“Have a good day…” I mumble so maybe he’ll just go away. He takes his items and leaves. Was he upset? Did he want a bag? Does he think I’m too stupid to know what he said? What did he even mean? Did he want one or not? Was he clear, and I’m the one who is confused? Would anyone be able to understand that? Surely normal people can solve that issue. Otherwise I’d hear other cashiers having the same problem all day. Maybe I should phrase it differently. No—no, that’s my Super Script. I can edit the phrasing. It’s just worth the risk I suppose.

I picked a layer of skin off my thumb absentmindedly. It’s not bleeding, but it burns. I put some sanitizer on it. He left his receipt and I pinch it and throw it away, trying not to get my sanitized hands on the potentially dirty receipt too much.

Just stand here and do nothing. Maybe smile. I wish our machines weren’t confusing. I think if I re-painted the arrow, it would help. Half the customers don’t even know where to put their card. Does this machine have an arrow anymore, or is it one of the machines where it’s been worn off? Oh shit, now I bumped that wire and it’s in my way. If I had a rubber band I could probably make it easier to tuck away. Do I have one? Sometimes I find one up here. Under this? No. Under this? No. Under this? …Is this a penny? This is the dirtiest penny I’ve ever seen. Is this a real penny? It feels really light. I will just leave it. I don’t want to even touch it. Maybe I should put it on another register so I don’t bump it. But I’d have to touch it to do that. I could scoop it up with a receipt, but I don’t have an extra. I’m not getting that one out of the trash. The trash cans are dirty. I’ll just…leave the penny under there.

I sanitize my hands because I touched near the penny, which means someone else probably touched the penny and then touched near the penny thus getting the area around it dirty.

Pennies are copper, right? That’s kinda resistant to bacteria. But that penny is beyond the powers of a copper coating. I’ll use a little more sanitizer on my bleeding fingers to make sure they’re clean.

-End Simulation.

[ffxivbabey]

Third-rate

Josephine and Grace go shopping.

Written for ffxivwrite for the prompt 'third-rate'.

Josephine was not an easy woman to anger. At least, not if it was a stranger involved. Anyone involved with the Werlyt project or her past was fair game, as was anyone who dared to upset one of her friends, but a stranger on the street? Never. And so it almost frightened Grace to see the normally-calm woman glaring daggers at the Ul'dahn merchant whose fabric store she currently stood in the middle of. Like most of the markets in the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, the store was little more than a tent set up along the side of the street, but Josephine managed to look imposing and regal in it.

"You're asking thousands of gil for this- this piece of third-rate cotton?" Josephine huffed, holding out the scrap of fabric. While it certainly wasn't as fine as silk, cotton was cotton, right? Still, by Grace's eye, the price was a bit steep. Perhaps Josephine had a point after all.

"Why, that's not just any fabric, madam, that's the finest cotton you're like to find this side of the Sagolii," the lalafellin merchant informed her, hands on his diminutive hips. "Though I wouldn't expect an outsider like you to know that."

"Oh, really, now?" said Josephine, folding her arms over her chest. "I'll have you know that the traders in the Sagolii itself have much better quality stock than this, though it's highly likely that they simply know a reliable supplier of good fabric."

"Well, if you're only going to insult my fabric, you can leave," said the lalafell. Josephine fumed, tail lashing, teeth grit, but she wasn't an idiot. Rather than slapping the merchant as she dearly wished, the au ra instead slammed the fabric down on the counter, whirled around, and stalked from the tent.

"Come, Grace," she told her companion. "We're leaving. It's more expensive in the Sagolii, but at least they have good stock!" A part of Grace wanted to apologise to the merchant, especially as it was for her own needs that the fabric was being bought, but, well... Josephine had an eye for fabrics and weaving, so if she said that the fabric was no good and overpriced to boot, Grace was willing to believe her. And so the heavier au ra followed her companion from the merchant's stall and dashed to catch up with her storming through the streets of Ul'dah.

"Wait!" Grace called after her, nearly bowling her over when Josephine stopped suddenly. "Oops. Uh, Jaik said that there's another cloth merchant, remember, Eshtaime's Aesthetics or something like that?"

"I thought that was for jewellery," said Josephine. Grace shrugged.

"Well, maybe I got the name wrong, all I know is that it's near the aetheryte plaza," said Grace. "I think the clothes there are ready-made, but surely they'll be willing to part with some for you. Or there's the weaver's guild, they might be able to help."

"Hmm," Josephine hummed. "It would be nice to have a guild to help me sell my wares in this land, and a group of people who are also fellow weavers to speak to. Where did you say the guild was?"

"Honestly, I've got no clue," said Grace. "But let's just go to this other place first and then we can worry about finding the guild." Because she really, desperately needed some more undergarments. Hey, it was hardly her fault that she'd chosen to go to Eorzea on a whim and hadn't thought to pack anything!

[demonicintegrity]

Painting and sewing are probably like the cheapest of the two to learn, provided you start with cheaper/upcycled materials.

Target has a good brand of paint which is cheaper than anything student or artist grade. Blick has sales often and a clearance so if you hunt you can find good deals. (Also sign up for their membership thingy, takes anywhere from a few cents to a dollar or two off almost anything I buy from there it’s great)

You can also paint anything. Super fun. Target has a brand of sketchbooks called Sketch that actually handles mix media very impressively. Blick has some cheaper but still good sketchbooks/paints/materials hiding in the kids or crafts section. Canvases can be expensive or bought in a cheap pack. Alternatively I love painting random stuff around including old pins, bottle caps, index cards, pieces of wood, etc. If you’re painting smth found at least sand it down first so the paint has smth to hold onto. (For small stuff I just use my nail file) you don’t always need to have a base coat of gesso/white paint, it just helps the paint itself be a bit more vibrant. So play with doing and not doing that, or even priming with different colors.

For clothes obvs shopping around for things to alter and fabric are the most expensive parts. I picked up a Jean jacket from a second hand store and started there. Embroidery thread is actually quite cheap, and a basic rainbow pack is a great starting place. I got mine at Blick. Make sure you specifically get embroidery needles. And there are million tutorials on YouTube to learn from. I know punks also use dental floss to sew on patches. Old jeans/shirts are great for making patches. You can also paint acrylic right on clothes or mix acrylic with a fabric medium to make it a bit more flexible and durable and nice to wear. (That’s what I do instead of buying fabric paint.)

Obvs a machine speeds up a lot of it and let’s you do more things, but for learning it’s not necessary. With normal thread and needle you can still learn how to attach a button, mend clothes, etc etc. Just be prepared to stick your finger a million times it’s part of the process lol.

The only downside to me having these hobbies: I hoard every scrap of paper, fabric, lace, and junk known to man I’m running out of cabinets save me.

I need a new hobby.. I either wanna start sewing, painting, interior decoration, or learning to build cool shit (like furniture for example)

[ethersierra]

Closeup look of my Umbrastaff!

I made it myself, using a broken umbrella (that I fixed with just a lil hot glue) I found in my school's lost n found. It wasn't theft, if they wanted it back it would not have been sitting there for seven months.

I got the fabric from JoAnn's Witching Hour collection, it's stretchy and black with kind of a cobblestone pattern with an iridescent rainbow shimmer that absolutely sparkles in the light! It reminded me of The Hunger so I knew I had to get it. I hand sewed each piece on around the frame, and though it is... messy... it adds character. The lace was also from JoAnns, and it has an iridescent shimmer that immediately drew my eye. I sewed on each length after the main part of the umbrella was complete-- I thought it could use some flair :)

As for the ribbon, I actually found that at a thrift store? It has some pieces of silver tinsel(?) weaved into it. The belt loop to secure the umbrella closed I honestly just stole from one of my belts. Umbrastaff > holding my pants up

That brings me to the part I am MOST excited to share; the charms!

Each point of the umbrella (there are 8 in total) has a charm secured to it that I made. I held an eyepin over a candle (with jewelry pliers. i am not here to get burnt.) and melted it into the plastic knob at the end, then secured with superglue. Then, separately, I made each charm out of wire, which I added beads to, and looped at both ends and the middle, so that I could attach it to the umbrella and the 2 charms I prepared for each.. hangy.. thing. They each have a charm I either made or selected to represent their respective bird, which is lowermost.

The Twins

For Lup (left) and Taako (right), I wanted them to match. I bought these little hummingbirds from a cute treehouse themed bookstore on my trip to Oregon, and after adding an eyepin, painted them over to resemble a calliope hummingbird and lucifer hummingbird, respectively. I thought hummingbirds were a good representation of the twins because of their constant need to move and the energy they have. Plus, their plumage is beautiful while still blending in to their environment. Lup got a sun charm (which I got from someone who does garage sales for a living?? one of her suppliers had a bunch of broken jewelry pieces so score I guess!) and Taako got a wizard hat, which is a repainted lego piece!

The Lover

Barry's bird was perhaps the most obvious choice for me. A bluejay. Not only are they BLUE! J! but they are incredibly intelligent and have tight family bonds. This charm was made from the same material as the twins', as it was a miniature by the same company, but he actually started out as a cardinal! I may or may not have bought a 6 pack variety bag specifically to obtain him... jury's still out on that one. His charm is a flying bird since I thought it could symbolize his role as the lover, especially with his long search for Lup.

The Protector

Look. I couldn't NOT make Magnus a wood duck. It's right there. This is a male wood duck's "eclipse plumage," in which they lose their bright colored feathers in favor of duller ones. I painted this a duck figure that came in a big bag of other animal toys that I bought at a thrift store specifically for my craft reserves... Good thing I did! The sword is a lego piece. My friend was heavily distracted by the fact I had a lego sword on my umbrella. Personally I found the wizard hat on my head to be more distracting but to each their own.

The Lonely Journal Keeper

I know, not the most flattering angle. Believe it or not, this Great Blue Heron used to be an ostrich! With a little paper mache, paint, and imagination, Lucretia came to be. Coincidentally, on my trip to San Diego for the TAZ liveshow, we went to the zoo, and there was a great blue heron chilling in the penguin exhibit! I asked the zookeeper if it was theirs, but she said he just showed up same time every day (around lunch time...). The book on this charm I made from scrap felt (hat material) and paper. It was originally a lego book that I repainted, but that seems to have gotten lost when the charm fell off earlier-- some lovely folks dressed in Amnesty cosplay handed me the bird after it fell. Thank you guys for that cause I would have been devastated<3

The Peacemaker

Ok so merle is doing a little worse for wear here. The texture of the owl toy (flea market baybeee) I painted probably isn't best suited to that without some prep work. For Merle, I chose the eastern screech owl because they are small and a little angry but still have the owl angle. His charm is a butterly (thought it does not show up great in this photo), though it WAS an angel before that one got lost somewhere. Oh well, still works with his nature thing!

The Wordless One.

Davenport is so tiny compared to the rest!! I guess it's fitting, but it made him hard to paint. I chose the Atlantic puffin for him, because of their coloring and the fact that they're social migratory seabirds. His charm is a key (lego, yes yet again) because I felt it made sense for his character. I'm not here to stretch the analogy, it writes itself.

The Voidfish

Finally, we have Fisher! Like Barry and the twins, this started as a minifigure of a jellyfish, before I painted it over with some iridescent blueish paint and sparkle varnish, to give it that magical feel. The charm is an abstract metal series of rings, which I felt fit the whole mystical thing the voidfish has going on.

In conclusion, I spent a lot of time on this project, and am extremely proud of the results, however flawed they may be! I am also very glad tumblr changed their image limit lmao<3

[pinkhairedlily]

Sakura wanted her last Christmas Party in high school to be memorable and best, but nothing seems to go her way today. The Christmas cookies she took a week to perfect the recipe got left on the train; it was her pride, her small token of courage the moment she works up the guts to finally confess to the love of her life – well, yes, the love of her up-to-high-school-life, school heartthrob and salutatorian, Uchiha Sasuke.

But she left it, it was gone, and now her courage was too.

She stood in front of Neji, holding out the store-bought cookies she got in a hurry just a kilometer outside their school. He scrunched his nose ever so slightly, but he knew that she caught it, and that she was well too aware that he didn’t appreciate it.

Mustering up a smile, she moved away to the sides, waiting for her turn to be given a gift. If it ends up being Naruto, she’d be lucky enough if he gave her an unopened ramen pack. If not, it might just be the seasoning left.

She was jolted out of her musings when Ino pushed her off the chair. “Go up there forehead! How many times does Sasuke have to call your name for you to go in front?”

Apart from the usual jeering that came with being in Sasuke alone at the front were the apologetic looks. Sasuke, after all, was notorious in giving the cheapest gifts; he was even heartless enough to give a piece of blank paper.

She waited for her eventual humiliation.

A large box and a quip of Merry Christmas.

When it was time to open it, she gasped out loud.

It was a gift set to prepare her for medical school, something that she did not tell anyone. Her wishlist posted in their class bulletin was only a stationery set so it can be easily found and purchased. It was only Ino who she confided her dreams to in the intimate confines of their sleepovers; and it was only during one sleepy afternoon in Biology class that she told their professor in passing that she wanted to go to medical school.

White shoes, stethoscope, cherry blossom head scrub, robe embroidered with her name, a set of ballpoint pens, a box of vitamins, and a pack of premium coffee. He also included a note hidden within the folds of the box – May these help you upstart your dreams. Good luck.

She caught him in the busy hallways at the end of the day, trailing slowly behind Naruto and his usual group of friends. She almost called out to him when she saw the familiar pink box in his hand.

“What are you doing with that?” Her question made him halt.

He heaved a sigh while turning back, instinctively straying his gaze anywhere but on her. “I promise I had a good excuse somewhere.”

“See that vomit-inducing pink plaid ribbon? That’s from leftover fabric scraps of my skirt. That box is mine, but I left it on the train.”

“I was on the train.”

Sakura stared at him dumbstruck. When she failed to continue with a response, Sasuke pinned his gaze on her – the same gaze anyone would duck out of due to sheer intimidation or pure fluster. Sakura was the latter as she felt the early signs of creeping flushness on her skin.

“It had my name so I just got it.”

“Why are you on the train?” She managed to get out. Sasuke never used public transport, he is always chauffeured to school, and more than that, his home is nowhere near the stations.

“I wanted to be the first…” he starts and then looks away, “to greet you Merry Christmas.”

It took minutes of deafening silence and maybe stretches of onlookers too had not Ino and Naruto shooed them away from an albeit awkward public moment in the middle of a busy hallway.

“Well, don’t you have anything to say?”

Sakura gasped, as if she finally remembered how to breathe, too caught up in the realization that she, a clumsy pink-haired nobody with nothing to brag but her grades, was in the center of his line of sight. And what did he exactly mean with the first to greet her a Merry Christmas? Wasn’t that something else?

Nevertheless, the courage she thought she lost came back in a sudden crash, like adrenaline seeping through every vein.

“I like you, Sasuke.”

He smirked, and she steeled herself for the nonchalant rejection. “That took you long enough.”

She couldn’t quite understand yet, but it was her friends’ cheering that led her out of her reverie. It must be a good thing – a Christmas wishlist she didn’t dream of coming true.

i'm late but here's my christmas gift to all my sasusaku moots! happy holidays - hope you enjoy it with your family, partner, furbabies, or alone. remember to take a break too and always be gentle with yourself. 🥰❤

[insomniamamma]

Thigh plates. It's been kind of challenging scaling this down to little kid sized. The Dude asked me will I have Whistling Birds that work? And I had to be like no, buddy, I can't fit a battery pack inside the armor. That'll be for your teenage Mando build. And then he stood up, held his hand over his head and said "Must be this tall to have Whistling Birds that light up." Raising him right? I guess?

heat bent and glued from underneath. Added detail.

All the armor drying out after sealing with craft glue. The thigh plates only have one coat, but everything else is on the 3rd coat. I sealed a few scrap pieces so I can do some paint tests. I will probably do that tomorrow. I need to hit a fabric store sometime this weekend. I think i'm going to use velcro to attatch the armor to the underlayers. I thought about magnets but that seems a bit tricky. I need to get the kind of velcro you can sew. Also, I may get some fabric dye so I can make the under layers a bit darker. The t-shirt that I've bought for the top layer of his flight suit is a pale gray because that's what I could find in his size. Next step will be the bandoleer and boot covers.

[ineffectualdemon]

Scrap store haul

First I got the main fabric for my bag. It's a beautiful green that isn't showing up right on camera

It's much more if a moss green in person

Then this really fun piece which I'm going to use for lining and also my wrist straps and probably other trim:

Then I had the random scrap packs which gave me these fun choices for pockets and other fun details

And then the extra bits and a scrap of fabric I bought for fun:

Kiddo got some also fun scrap fabric pieces and some leather

Now I just need to finish planning out the bag, wash and iron the fabrics, and then I can get started

I'm very excited :)

Scrap store shop successful in that I mostly managed to stick to what I need for my actual project

[undeadgirlboy]

battle jacket guide for baby punks

battle jackets or vests are really big in the punk scene. they also look cool as fuck. one of my favorite things about them is that each person's is different and represents their own style and interests. there are a few different steps u can follow to make one

step one. acquire the jacket

when making a battle jacket it's best to get one without any stretch to the denim bc the elastic threads in stretchy denkm break down faster than regular denim and when you're sewing things on it you might get a weird puckering effect. thrift stores like goodwill or salvation army are good places to look if you have time, but in my experience they don't have a lot of jean jackets. you can probably find one at walmart in the mens section, or target. if you'd like something with a more modern edge or higher quality denim you can check outlet stores like ross and marshalls. that's where i found mine for around 20 dollars. of course if you have the money you can get a Levi's trucker jacket or somewhere else more expensive. the color of the jacket is up to you. now that you have a base layer you can move on to customization

step two. washing the jacket

one important thing to remember about battle jackets is that they're handwash/no wash so it's best to wash your jacket before you begin. you have no idea who has worn or touched it before now. just throw it in the washing machine on cold and go blast laura jane grace for a little bit. personally i run mine through the dryer but if you'd prefer to air dry make sure you lay it flat because if not it will get stretched out shoulders.

step three. dyeing or painting

this is the part where you can possibly dye or paint your jacket. i have never dyed my jacket, but you can find fabric dye at Walmart and just follow the instructions on the bottle. i decided to spray paint mine because i had some cheap black spray paint and i wanted to know what would happen. if you're going to spray paint your jacket, make sure you do it outside and let it dry thoroughly before bringing it in. i left mine for about 18 hours so that the smell was completely gone. after that you want to turn it inside out and run it through the dryer with a couple bath towels for about 30 minutes to heat set it. spray painting your jacket will make it a bit more stiff. walmart and some craft stores sell spray paint that is made for fabric, but i didn't feel like paying for those so i used what i had on hand. i know those are pretty expensive and the bottles don't have a lot in them. if you only plan to handwash your jacket or don't plan to wash it at all, regular spray paint should work fine for you.

step four. back patch

most battle jackets that i have seen have a larger central patch in the back, with smaller ones on the front and around it. it's not essential to have a back patch but i think it helps to tie the whole jacket together. you can either make a back patch yourself or buy one. the site angryyoungandpoor.com has some back patches for popular bands. some bands also have back patches on their merch stores, or you can make one yourself. i made mine out of an old against me t-shirt. i measured around the design, cut it out, and then sewed it on the back of my jacket. if you want to make your own back patch you can do so in one of several ways that i will cover in just a second

step five. embroidering patches

there are a lot of patches out there that you can buy, but most of the time it's cheaper just to make them yourself. embroidery thread is pretty cheap at walmart, and all you need is sturdy scrap fabric to make something really cool. when you're embroidery a patch it's a good idea to get an embroidery hoop to keep your fabric taut. if you don't like the color of your scrap denim you can layer a different fabric over it. i had some stretchy cotton left over from cropping a t shirt that i layered over denim to help keep it in shape. this also makes it easier when you're sewing your patch onto your jacket. i don't recommend embroidering directly onto your jacket because it's harder to manage and if you decide you don't like how it looks and you rip it out you're left with weird holes that don't look good. it's all up to you but i wouldn't recommend it.

step six. painting patches

if you'd rather just paint your patches, you can always use fabric paint or fabric pens. it's best to avoid using acrylic paint because it wears off and cracks, but i have heard you can prevent that by mixing fabric medium into it. i have painted a few patches with acrylic paint but i used a layer of mod podge over the top to protect it. acrylic painted patches CANNOT go through the washing machine.

if you'd like to copy a particular logo or image with paint and you're not good with freehand you can make a stencil for it. the way i make stencils is by printing out my design and then covering the paper front and back with masking tape. once I've done that, i use an exacto knife to cut out the lines of my design and then i'm ready to go. you can use spray paint with a stencil or you can sponge fabric paint onto the design. if you choose to use spray paint make sure you have fabric paint in that color so you can fix up any problems with the design when you're done.

step seven. attaching your patches.

sewing is one of the most tedious parts of making a battle jacket. if you don't know how to sew you can google it. a lot of people use white embroidery floss or dental floss and whip stitch around their patch. if you're attaching an iron on patch that you bought, you should stitch around it too to secure it. make sure you're using a thimble if you're going over seams of the jacket, or sewing on an iron-on patch. at first it might seem fine, if a little time consuming, but days of finger pain isn't worth it. i prefer to pin my patches before sewing them, but you do you. for larger patches i first attach it with a thread that matches the fabric before using a contrasting whip stitch. that just makes things easier for me but it's not mandatory.

step eight. adding metal

spikes, studs and safety pins are a staple of punk clothing. safety pins are easy because you can get them anywhere and just put them anywhere. i got a bunch of varying sizes from walmart and i put them on everything. just play around and see what you like. you can find studs at your local craft store, probably in the leather working section. you just have to poke two holes in the fabric, push the prongs on your stud through, and then bend them back to secure it. you can also get studs online if you need to. i bought a couple packs of screw back spikes a little while ago, and i have since been adding those to a lot of my clothing. spikes are simple to add too. you poke a hole in the fabric, push the screw through, and then screw on the spike. some people recommend adding a dot of super glue in between the spike and screw to secure it, but personally I haven't needed to do that.

another way to add metal to your jacket is with chains. you can sew them on all the day down, or leave them hanging. it just depends on what you want to do. you can get short chains from walmart, or big rolls of chain from craft stores.

step nine. finish up

that's honestly about it. any of the information here can be applied to vests too. if your jacket is really crusty and you don't want it on your skin you can always wear a hoodie underneath, especially when it's cold. battle jackets can be worn with basically anything. mine has always been my go-to jacket for any occasion. make sure it actually represents your political beliefs and bands you listen to. get ready for people to look at you weird in the grocery store. if anyone has anything to add feel free to reblog, and if you have questions my ask box is open. you can always submit a photo of your jacket to my blog because i love seeing other people's diy stuff. wear a mask, stay safe, and fuck the pigs <3

[creations-by-chaosfay]

I'm always baffled by patterns that call for more than 15 fat quarters (FQ). Why? That gets very expensive, and you would save a great deal of money by using yardage instead. I recently saw a pattern that calls for 40 FQs. That is ridiculous! When I saw the sizes of the various pieces used, it quickly became apparent the pattern would be ideal for a scrap quilt seeing as the largest pieces were cut 6x6 inches. If scraps aren't an option, be it lack of scraps or an absolute loathing for scrap quilts (one of my sisters hates them due to lack of symmetry), yardage would be far less expensive.

How about y'all?

Yes, precuts are convenient. It can cut back the amount of time it takes to cut all the pieces. At the same time, they tend to be a little more expensive than just buying yardage. I've seen stores that, if you bought the amount of precuts to equal a single yard (four FQs = one yard), the precuts brought the price to $4 more than what they charge for yard.

Only when I have a FQ bundle do I even consider making a quilt that calls for so many. I had a bundle of 20 FQs and used them for a single pattern that required so many + yardage for borders and sashing (sashing is thin strips of fabric between rows and/or blocks). I had also gotten the bundle 50% off because the store was closing for business due to the owner retiring.

I'm not criticizing anyone who wants to make quilts with so many FQs. What I would appreciate is a pattern with yardage alternatives for those who don't feel like spending a small fortune.

[awkwardgtace]

Mira's Visit Home Pt 3 (Final)

This one is a bit longer than the others. I couldn't find a place that felt good to split it. Also only used ferrets cause I couldn't think of anything better to fit in her tunnel

Part 1, Part 2

Mira's Visit Home (Ending)

Mira waited for him to reach in and pull her out. She didn’t mind the extra time it took since she could gather her thoughts. She needed to admit to a human she loved him, she could wait most of the week, but Anna made sure that wouldn’t happen. She had made sure he’d heard that Kaya and her mom were coming. A hand came into the pocket interrupting her thoughts. The fingers curled around her, tight enough she couldn’t wiggle out. It was funny to think how this would have terrified her not too long ago. Even after her nightmares feeling his careful, warm touch helped to ground her. She was slowly pulled out of his pocket and placed on a pillow nearby he’d called hers. She thought it was dumb at the time but appreciated it more as time went on. Having a spot near him that was hers felt nice. She watched as he slid the coat off then went about putting that and his bag away. She was a little sad when he sat in his desk chair rather than on the bed with her. She thought he may just lay down and she could pretend she didn’t need to talk to him.

“So…,” he started, “how was seeing home again?”

“It was unbelievable. Everyone was acting differently than they used to. Plus a ton of thanks for bringing help. They even said I could move home if I wanted. Kaya and my mom are going to come next week t-.”

“That’s great,” he didn’t even know he cut her off. “Is there any way I can help you pack?”

“Pack?” she asked. It felt like things fell apart. He sounded so excited he must be relieved he was getting rid of her. She’d seen things before he knew she existed, he was louder and more destructive. She still remembered the time after he’d moved in and he punched the wall, close enough she could have touched his hand. He still probably felt guilty about it. Of course he wanted her gone, he could go back to his normal life without her. She couldn’t help the heartbreak she felt though.

“Yeah, you’re taking your things from here right?” he asked. Corus was desperately trying to sound cheerful. She’d been a positive change for him, someone to care about right when he needed it. It was easier to break his worst habits once he knew someone could be hurt without him fully aware. A fact he’d never have learned if she hadn’t come into his life. He was barely looking at her, trying to think of some way to thank her, to make sure she’d never forget him. He doesn’t know when he fell in love, but he was pretty sure no one would take her place.

“N-no I’ll be fine on my own,” Mira gave a strained smile and started to leave. She wanted him to stop her, ask her to stay, but he wouldn’t. A human would always see someone like her as a burden and it was better he never knew how she felt. She didn’t even realize how much she cared until today. She didn’t even know until everyone said they were glad she’d found someone so important to her. Now she was just going to avoid him until she left, she wouldn’t add more to how she’s a burden.

Mira reached the edge of the bed by the wall and finally let herself cry a little. She knew he’d more than likely be kind about her feelings and turn her down gently, but he was so happy she could leave. Mira started to climb down, and Corus finally let his own feelings show. His smile fell and he blindly grabbed the stress ball he’d bought for his desk after meeting Mira. He tried to calm down, but when it tore he was hit with a sad smile. He hadn’t managed to ruin a stress ball since the day he found her on the table. He wanted to laugh at how dumb all of this was, he should be happy for her, he could go see her probably, but he just hated she was leaving. He hated how everything he thought to say sounded like he wanted to keep her.

Mira was barely aware as she made her way back to her home. Normally after a storm finally ended, Corus would make them both tea and he’d just sit with her in bed for most of the day. She shivered as she realized how much she craved that warmth right now. Even hearing he expected her to leave, a part of her wanted to stay. She didn’t think she’d be happy back with the others, not after hearing that any of them had wanted her dead all those years ago. They’d changed, but they could change back just as easily. Anna had told her she was a little worried about how long things would stay different, but didn’t want to make the choice for her. Mira silently curled up in her fabric nest, holding a scrap Corus had given her tightly around her. The first time it wasn’t her blanket from home she sought out for comfort.

Corus and Mira had barely interacted for the next few days. He kept trying, but he didn’t want to risk saying something wrong and making her scared. Mira just didn’t want to be more of a burden. She was avoiding even sharing a meal, and wouldn't take the gifts he left at her entrances. She’d gone back to trying to only be out when she thought he was asleep. He wasn’t happy leaving things this way, he wanted to get her something to say goodbye at least. He wanted to make sure she knew he cared. He spent a day out in town, looking for something for her and giving her space. He knew it would probably amount to nothing like all the times before this. He stopped as he passed by the antique store, he had found the perfect thing to give her as a goodbye.

Their avoidance continued Mira having fewer and fewer reasons to even leave the walls. She was curled up at home, she didn’t have anything to do, all her projects would be left behind. Of course she could work on her half finished ones, but they were mostly in Corus’s room. She just didn’t want to bother him or risk him hearing her and saying something. Corus was anxious he hadn’t seen Mira in two days and he didn’t want to miss his chance to at least say goodbye. He was working up the courage to call out for her, when a knock sounded at the door. He rolled his eyes, but went to deal with his guest, he didn’t expect Mrs. Adam to be standing there. He was tempted to slam the door in her face, but decided to hear her out just in case.

“Mrs. Adam, what can I do for you?” he asked, his tone was barely friendly and he saw her grimace. She seemed nervous for once.

“Well I wanted to warn you, my pet ferret got out, and I know you don’t put out traps. There was also that squirrel you dealt with recently. I thought I saw him in your yard, but when I rushed over he was gone,” she said. Corus felt his heart stop. Mira was safe, she was inside there were at least two more days before her family would come to get her. Things would be fine, they had to be. He thanked her and shut the door, ignoring anything else she started to say. He needed to get Mira.

Mira prayed she was having realistic nightmares again. She’d fallen asleep for a little, waking up when she heard something that sounded like tapping. Her eyes went wide when she saw some weird animal watching her. It looked like it might just be curious, but she needed to find a way to distract it so she could run. Time felt frozen as she stared at the awful creature, nothing should be able to get in she’d made sure of that. No she usually did, she never shut the door the day they went to her home, Corus had grabbed them because of that nosy human and walked off. She came back so out of it she never thought to check.

“Mira!” Corus yelled, banging on the wall. That seemed to hit play on the frozen scene, the creature moved forward, but Mira managed to roll out of the way just in time. She started running, aiming for her closest entrance, the one on the floor of the kitchen. Only to freeze when the things face showed up in front of her. For once she hated herself for making each path have more than one point of access. “Mira please! I need you to come out. Please!”

Mira wanted to cry at how desperate he sounded. There wasn’t any option for her now. She could dodge for a bit, but she was stuck and in her haste left all her tools behind. There was another bang, louder than Corus knocking on the wall and she screamed. She didn’t mean to, but the built up fear let it out, which helped the thing focus back on her. She was frantically searching for a way out, but couldn’t find a way past where it wouldn’t be able to just block her path again. She was terrified, she needed help. She wouldn’t even get to tell him how she felt before she would be gone.

The creature pounced at her and she screamed as she dodged out of the way. The louder bangs were getting closer, another animal had probably been inside and they hadn’t crossed paths. She felt tears start to trickle down her face. The creature was focused on the noises mostly, but if she moved it would be back on her in an instant. There’s no way she’d get out of this in one piece, well maybe she would and that could be worse. She was tempted to call out for Corus, but he couldn’t help. Even if he heard her, he had stopped breaking things, why would he tear apart his house for her.

The creature seemed to lose interest in the bangs, eyes focused back on Mira’s small form. She resigned herself to her fate and shut her eyes. She didn’t have to watch it happen, and she’d fight like hell once it touched her. There was a breath washing over her and she screamed for help she knew wasn’t coming. There was a bang louder than others and thought she felt something like dust fall around her. Wind rushed past her, but she was shocked that nothing had hit her. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but heard a weird almost whining sound. She opened her eyes a little and saw the creature had been grabbed by a hand. Mira shivered as the creature was pulled out of the wall. Her legs giving out, she fell to the ground.

She knew she needed to get up and run, her mind was a mess. Something stopped that creature, maybe a human she should hide from humans. She tried to stand, falling back down more than once. By the time Mira was standing again, the hand was back. She froze, she could tell this time, it was a human hand, nightmares she couldn’t forget flooded her mind. A human was here to get her and she couldn’t bring herself to move. Mira didn’t have time to wait long before the hand started to move again, it came towards her and she whimpered. It didn’t stop the hand as it reached her, quickly wrapping her in a tight grip. Somewhere in her mind she thought this should feel safe.

She felt herself start getting pulled up, and she started squirming. She just wanted to get somewhere safe. Before long the hand she was in stopped moving, even with her squirming it hadn’t tightened once. She could feel as the one holding her started moving, they stopped somewhere and she started to truly panic. She didn’t know who this was, or why they were so adamant about reaching her. She felt herself get lowered again, and finally the hand opened. She didn’t realize she’d shut her eyes, but snapped them open once the grip was released. She slid off landing on the kitchen table, frantically searching for a way out.

“Mira, Mira please,” the human whispered to her. “It’s me, it’s Corus. I'm so sorry I scared you.”

Corus, it was Corus who grabbed her. He’s apologizing, she slowly looked up and met his eyes. He looked like he’d been crying. Just seeing his face started to calm her down, her cloudy mind starting clear. He saved her, he was helping her, his grip was safe, he was trustworthy, and she loved him. He reached out and used his thumb to wipe at her face, she didn’t realize her tears hadn’t stopped. She leaned into his touch, relieved it wasn’t a nightmare coming true.She saw around him that the wall had been torn apart just enough he could see in. A hammer on the counter near it.

“Mira. Did the ferret hurt you at all?” she shook her head. “Thank god, I have no idea what I’d do if I lost you.”

“You're the one who wants me to leave,” she said, quickly covering her mouth hoping he hadn’t heard her. He looked at her shocked, soon a look of realization dawned on his face.

“What? No, I,” he started. “J-just uh, will you come with me for a second, please?”

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes, he must have thought she’d say no. She was too terrified to be left alone right now. Even if the wall wasn’t destroyed, who knows what else could have gotten in during that time, she was lucky. She nodded at him, a little worried she’d say more she meant to keep to herself if she tried to talk. She was still terrified that the creature, no ferret, was going to kill her, and she really thought the hand that had grabbed her was dangerous. She wanted to feel safe and that meant Corus.

Corus held her cupped closely to his chest, not letting her see anything as he stood. She wondered if he thought she hadn’t seen the damage to the wall yet, maybe he was worried she’d be scared. He saved her, he shouldn’t be so worried. The trip was shorter than she expected, he must have rushed to his room. He carefully placed her on her pillow and started moving around his room. She didn’t really know what he wanted, but this was probably how he wanted repayment for saving her. Mira couldn’t get the idea of being a burden out of her mind.

Corus was frantically trying to find a good way to present what he bought her. He’d planned to just hand it all to her originally, but now he had to make her understand. Clearly she’d thought he didn’t want her here, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He sighed, realizing this was a dumb attempt to stall, she was literally sitting on his bed and probably had none of what she needed to get down. He grabbed the small bag and moved back over to her, he sat on the floor so his head was more even to her. He didn’t want to let himself read into how she looked.

He took a deep breath and finally looked at her, she looked terrified, “Mira. I, uh, I don’t know what made you think I don’t want you here, but that’s wrong on every level. I’ve been… I’ve been terrified of myself since you told me you could go home. I didn’t want to do anything that made you think you couldn’t leave. I-I feel like I’ve been a better person since I met you. Finally getting my anger more under control is just one way. I wanted to get you something, something that I knew you’d probably yell at me for and I found these when I was out in town the other day.”

He quickly reached into the bag and placed a small chest in front of her. She looked at it confused, but inched toward it to open it. She slowly lifted the lid and let out an audible gasp. Inside was a small replica that looked like a real sword, like in the movies Corus had shown her. She carefully pulled it out, it was heavy, but she could use it still. She poked the end of it, jumping when it pricked her finger slightly. It wasn’t just for show it was sharp too. She looked back and saw the case, she couldn’t remember what it was called, pulling it out to slip it carefully inside. She placed it down next to her, and looked back into the chest. There was folded paper in there that she carefully pulled out, she couldn’t tell what it was and looked up to Corus finally.

“What...what is all this?” she asked. Her voice was rough and she couldn’t understand.

“I remembered the time I was looking at things online for you. There was a model sword you looked at so excitedly, but said you didn’t want or need when I offered to get it. I saw that in an antique store, and I sharpened it when I got home, so you could use it. When I was in there I saw the chest and it had a bunch of patterns for doll clothes. I thought you could use them to help make more clothes for yourself and the others.”

“Why would you get me all this?”

“I’m going to miss you, a lot.” He let out a deep sigh. “Mira I don’t really know how to tell you this or when it even happened, but I love you. I can’t really picture my life without you in it. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop you from leaving, I just, it’s only fair you know how much I care about you. I-I never meant to make you think I didn’t want you here, I just didn’t want you to think how I felt would mean you couldn’t leave.”

Mira dropped the papers, patterns she told herself, she was holding and ran forward. Corus went wide eyed and held out his hands as she jumped off, clearly trusting he’d catch her. He held her close to his face to make sure she was all right after her stunt, but when he brought her close enough she planted a light kiss on his nose. Corus felt his mouth fall open, he couldn’t believe she just did that. He saw the tears on her face and moved to wipe them clear with his thumb.

“You’re such a damned idiot,” Mira said, laughter following. “I tried to tell you that day and you cut me off. I thought you were so excited I could leave. I didn’t want to burden you anymore since you seemed so excited at the idea of my leaving. I wanted to stay here. I’ve never really said I trusted anyone, or asked for help. I always had to prove myself, but Kaya thought I was tricking you and just everything from when I was inside the community. I-I realized that I-I love you too.”

Corus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only was he in love with a woman small enough to fit in his hand, but she loved him too. She loved him even after seeing how bad he could get when he wasn’t controlling his anger. He moved her closer to his mouth and kissed her gently pushing her into his palm. She kissed him back of course, when he pulled away they both just stared into each other’s eyes taking in what just happened. Corus used one hand to hold her close to his chest and carefully moved the chest, small sword, and clothes patterns to his desk. He then climbed into bed placing her on her pillow, but laying closer than he usually did, nose nearly touching her chest.

“So what does this mean for you going back?” he asked. He wouldn’t stop her even if she went back after this. Staying here after today wouldn’t seem smart to him either.

“I wait for them to check up on me, tell them I’m staying. Although I may need to move my main home since someone tore apart the wall.” she teased. Everything felt like a dream. She wasn’t sure she’d trust this was real. Her mind still felt cloudy, but this felt perfect.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I heard you scream and knew something that could kill you was nearby,” he said seriously.

“How are you even going to fix that?”

“I have a friend, he takes care of when I break things usually, fixes it for a discount with how much business I’ve given to him.” He made a face and Mira laughed. She moved closer and snuggled up to his nose. The two stayed like that for most of the day, moving to eat a late meal. Corus was terrified to send her back to the walls, and Mira didn’t feel safe about it either. As night fell, Mira started falling asleep and Corus just lifted her carefully placing her over his heart. Letting things be for the night, she felt safer than she had in the last week.

At least until she woke up to her name being called out by Kaya and her mother. Mira jolted up, Corus’s hand having slipped off sometime in the night. They were early, probably to make sure she didn’t avoid things. She carefully walked along his chest to his face, she slid down his shoulder to the pillow and started smacking at his cheek. He needed to wake up before the two became convinced he’d hurt her. It would not end well at all. Slapping his cheek wasn’t working so she decided to use her shoulder to bash into his cheek and try to wake him up. He jumped, his hand flying to where she’d been sleeping minutes ago. He sat up worried, knocking her back on the pillow.

“Corus,” she called up. He quickly turned to where he’d heard her voice, relaxing once he confirmed she was safe. Also upon realizing yesterday wasn’t just a long dream. He reached out towards her, intending to grab her until he heard her name called. He froze, unsure what to do, they’d see the wall, the damage he caused. They had definitely seen it considering they were already calling for her. He thought they had another day.

“Corus we need to go meet them. They probably came early to make sure we talked,” Mira’s voice brought him back to now. She was right, they would probably try to make her leave after what they’ve seen. He’s shocked they called out, not just searching blindly in fear. Corus reached out again, carefully scooping her off the pillow. He walked to the kitchen, focusing on the ground just in case they’d come searching. He didn’t want to go to them, it could mean Mira leaving, but he couldn’t just avoid this.

When walking into the kitchen, he was shocked to see the two standing on the table. He approached it slowly, intimidated by the looks they had. He quickly lowered Mira to the table with an awkward smile. He wasn’t sure if he should stay, but looking at the aftermath of yesterday he didn’t want to hear this. He started to back away when a sharp glare from Mira’s mother stopped him. Clearly they didn’t trust he wasn’t planning something so he just stood there awkwardly.

“Mom, Kaya I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you. I thought you were coming tomorrow,” Mira said.

“Are you all right? What happened….” Kaya trailed off looking towards the wall. Corus watched and shivered when Amy glared at him. It really didn’t look good.

“You were after her for some reason.” Amy said. “Explain.”

“I-” Mira started.

“Not you. Corus.”

“O-oh, uhm.” He started. “I-I was told someone’s pet had gotten loose and that it disappeared by my house. I called out for Mira, but she didn’t answer. I moved the cabinet, but it fell then I heard her scream. I tore apart the wall to reach her. When I got the wall open enough I grabbed the ferret first. I came back after putting it in a cage to make sure she wasn’t hurt.”

“I see,” Amy said. “Please leave us alone to speak with Mirabelle.”

Corus nodded and quickly left the room. He went back to his room first, packing his gifts to Mira back into the chest. He’d make it easy since he didn’t actually find out what was coming next. This could still be goodbye, they wouldn’t want him to visit after seeing what he did. Obviously they’d be scared, and wouldn’t trust him to watch over her. It wasn’t like she couldn’t take care of herself, but away from her home he had to be there for her. He went a bit closer, but stayed far enough away that unless Mira was calling for him he wouldn’t hear their voices.

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

“He isn’t lying, that is what happened,“ Mira said, staring at Kaya and her mother. Both of them looked skeptical to say the least. It wasn’t like he didn’t show he cared about her, but tearing apart his home seemed odd. Humans wouldn’t be likely to destroy their home to save one of their kind, even ones they liked as far as her community was concerned. Although he clearly cared for Mira more than just as an interesting creature, or a pet.

“I believe him,” Kaya said. They looked at Mira with a sad smile.

“I do too, that isn’t the problem,” her mother said. “Mirabelle, looking at everything he did you shouldn’t stay here. This kind of destruction is the problem of being around humans. Do you realize how dangerous this was for you? What if your scream was something else?”

“Mother, anywhere I go there’s danger. How long can we trust the people at the community won’t decide I’m a danger? Besides I’m not stupid you think I wouldn’t avoid a human who acted like this thoughtlessly?”

“Mira, what if he’d grabbed you with the strength he used like that? What if you hadn’t just gotten on his hand?” Kaya asked.

“I didn’t. He did grab me. I was terrified I didn’t know who it was. I couldn’t even understand that it was him at first. If he didn’t grab me you probably would have found me still terrified in the pathway he’d pulled the ferret out of.”

“Mirabelle, this isn’t a joke. You need to come home with us.” Her mother’s voice was firm, it was the same voice she used when Mira was a little kid getting into trouble.

“I won’t go back there. I’m staying here. He loves me, since he met me he’s been kind. I’d seen plenty of examples of how bad he could get. If this is what he’d do to make sure I’m safe I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I want to stay where I’m not going to leave just to be scared of being sent away again, this time to die.”

Kaya walked up and hugged Mira, she had tears streaming down her face. Her mother seemed disappointed, but wasn’t speaking. Mira couldn’t go back there, not after Collin slapped her, no one else acted to defend her when he’d treated her like that. He’d hit her plenty of times as a child, even when she wasn’t involved in the problem and was just nearby. She’d been belittled and yelled at her whole life, Corus was probably the only person she’d met that she didn’t have to prove herself to besides her parents. Even Kaya had been suspicious of her at first, until Mira defended them. Corus was also the first person to ever stop Collin, everyone else would just make sure she wasn’t too hurt after he’d left.

Mira’s mother sighed, “Fine, I can’t really argue on that. You seemed happy when I saw you, you know? The first time in nearly ten years and the first time in almost twenty eight that your smile looked so genuine. Please be safe darling. I don’t want to find out I made a mistake trusting your judgement on who you fell for.”

Kaya let Mira out of the hug, her mother quickly taking their place. Mira was a little shocked, expecting more fighting. She made her decision and she wouldn’t change her mind, although they’d need to fix the wall as soon as possible. Mira’s mother didn’t seem to be willing to let go, but neither minded. Realistically, Mira wouldn’t be able to see them again for a long time. It wasn’t practical, drawing attention to the woods even close wouldn’t be viable. After what felt like hours Mira’s mother finally pulled away, a large smile on her face.

“Might as well call him back to tell him your decision right?” she said. Mira couldn’t hide how happy she was that her mother was supportive. She was sure dad would be too, but he wasn’t able to leave easily. He was a guard for their community. Although the damage to the wall may have made him take longer to convince. Mira nodded and turned away from the two to call out.

“Corus, can you come back in here?” She hoped he could hear her. She didn’t have to wait long before she heard his footsteps booming as he walked in. She smiled realizing that with everything he did change for her, he never stopped walking heavily. She wouldn’t admit that she liked always having a strong idea of where he was and when he’d enter a room still. When he walked in, she saw the chest he’d used for her gifts yesterday. He must believe she was leaving.

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

“Hey, so what’s the verdict?” he asked awkwardly. Kaya and Amy looked at him, both with a gaze that made him feel small. There’s no way they weren’t insisting she leave after what they came to this morning.

“We’ll be leaving. I expect you’ll keep her safe, without destroying things,” her mother said. Corus winced, but quickly nodded. He never wanted to feel a need to tear into the wall again either. She seemed to accept this with a nod and the two started to climb down the table, a string hanging off he hadn’t noticed before.

“Oh wait,” he called out to them, moving to be more at eye level. “I was thinking of having a fence built for well, the part of the yard I own up to the woods. Can you let me know if that would cause you guys any issues? I thought it might be helpful to have a safe area to go between where more humans can’t see you. Plus it would be easier if you wanted to come see Mira, or if she wanted to go see you.”

“You would do this, so it’s safe for us to go back and forth if we chose?” Amy asked. Kaya was just staring with wide eyes.

“I mean considering how my neighbor is, I’d feel better knowing you had a place to hide from her. Although if it’s a risk to any of you guys in any way I’m happy not to.”

“We’ll talk with the others and let you know, i-is that all right?” Kaya spoke up. Mira frowned a bit hearing their nerves coming through. Kaya would trust her judgement, but clearly couldn’t get over their own fear.

“Of course. Although I’m going to be having a friend come by soon to fix the wall, so just keep an eye out for that. I don’t want you guys getting seen by anyone you don’t trust. He’ll probably be by in the next few weeks. You should be able to tell if he’s here and avoid him though.”

The two nodded then made a move to leave again. Corus and Mira watched as they made their way out, through the entrance she never showed him. He sent her a look, but she just smiled innocently. They could talk later about her entrances, for now Mira just wanted to be happy. Once enough time had passed she felt sure they were gone she looked at him with the best angry look she could muster.

“After all of that yesterday, you still thought I’d leave?” she tried hard to sound hurt.

“I didn’t know if they might convince you, I didn’t want to make you guys wait,” he answered, looking away from her.

“Is that really it?”

“I.... I thought you might be scared, even after yesterday. I didn’t know how clear you got a look at, well at what I did. I kind of thought you should be afraid honestly. I mean it wasn’t like I was thinking straight, I could have hurt you or-”

“You wouldn’t. Remember I was here when you moved in. If I was going to be scared off by you breaking things I should be gone by now.”

Mira beamed at him. She never really thought she’d put her life in someone’s hands, but Corus was worth it. He showed how much he cared about her, and how careful he’d be even when he was acting on impulse. Corus couldn’t believe how much faith she really had after his own actions. He leaned forward, placing a kiss on her again making her squeak. This seemed like a long dream. One he didn’t want to wake up from. He placed his hand flat on the table next to her, and she quickly climbed on. The two made their way back to his bedroom to sleep a bit more before doing anything for the day.

[n-blanca-archived]

↳  MHA ROOMATE HEADCANONS PT//2 (THE GIRLS <3)

+ sero

A/N: here’s part 2! i don’t particularly like splitting stuff up like this, but i hit my image limit with the last one ajlsdkj. same as last time, these can be read as platonic hcs or romantic! ur pick :)  hope you enjoy, please don't forget to take your meds and drink water <3

❑ OCHAKO gets anxiety when you two run errands together, always afraid the card will decline or you two've bought too much for your budget that week. She and you have more than enough combined, but you've learned to make her go to another store while you check out, so she doesn't watch the numbers with her teeth breaking her fingernail. Sometimes she'll come home from her shift, feet shuffling heavily on the floor of your apartment, but she'll present you with some wild flowers in the park that she thought were pretty. “You wanted a cute center-piece for the kitchen table, right?” Her mom comes over a lot, even if Ochako isn't home. You'll sit at the kitchen table (at the older woman's insistence) while she bustles around and makes Ochako's favorite food (Miso-roasted eggplant and chicken Katsu).

❑ SERO has a bean bag in every room in the apartment (except for the bathrooms, not from lack of trying.) He likes making little figures out of scraps of his tape or using it to make collages of things, like pictures of his friends and his family. He likes wearing panchos and his fuzzy "pimp" slippers around the house because he's very comfort centric. If it's restrictive he probably won't wear it. He'll take you to his favorite food places after his shift, even if he's dead tired. He likes sharing his favorite things with his friends, so it's a very "my stuff is yours, yours is mine" type of home. Oh? the hoodie you're wearing? Sero's, probably. The fluffy sweater on him? yours, probably. The rings on his hands? yours, but who's to say. He has tapestry's hung up all over, and though you’d never considered decorating your apartment like he’s done, you find that you like the warm vibe the space gives off because of his contributions.  

❑ TSUYU keeps the apartment really warm during the winter, so you two find yourselves saving up money for the electric bill to rise during the colder months. heaters and kotatsu's only do so much, especially when it's dangerous to leave them on during the night. So, you two find yourselves cuddling under your thickest blankets just to keep her from going into hibernation. Sometimes she'll get frustrated from her compulsory kero's. You didn't realize how often she kero'ed until you moved in with her, nor how much it bothered her sometimes. She'll stop mid-sentence, face twisted in a grimace. Tsuyu volunteers at the community pool during the summer whenever she has time off as a life-guard, and even teaches swimming classes. She'll come back from the pool smelling like chlorine and clearly drained, but there's always a smile on her face and pack of fruit gummies in her hand (that she gives to you- usually she'd prefer an energy bar over a candy).

❑ MINA wanted to bring the god awful zebra print curtains into your apartment for your living room and it made you reconsider living with her/j. On her days off she makes it a point to sit with you and have a "spa day", which could mean playing dress up and messing with her make-up or just lathering a face mask on for 6 minutes before you to make each other laugh and it cracks. Mina's a very high-energy person, so depending on your mood she could be a little too much or exactly what you need. On the days where her voice feels just a little too loud and her hugs feel a little too tight, telling her once is all it takes for her to back off. Eventually she gets the hang of reading your reactions, keeping her interactions short and as calm as they can get for her when she can tell you’ve had an off-day. Sometimes she'll come back from work, face stormy. You don't have to ask anymore to know it's because she burned a hole into something, most likely her after-work clothes. It happens occasionally, exhaustion causing her to lose some control and her hands singe the fabric of her comfiest work shirt. You buy her back-ups most of the time, just in case.

pt//1 (the boys <3)

[fabricdragondesigns]

things i wish i had known: sewing edition

in no order, more or less as i thought of it.

Basic cleaning and maintenance on your sewing machine is much easier than you think.  there are limits of course and its no substitute for a pro when you need one, but  i have gotten a “non working, free” sewing machine back to work thanks to a class on machine maintenance taught by my local quilt/sew n vac place. (Steve’s Sewing and Vacuum in King of Prussia PA) There are specialty sewing machine feet for EVERYTHING most of them are well worth it. yeah i know what they cost, i use Bernina. ($$$) a few are not that worth it unless you do some specific things and some kind of double up... so do your research, but  the “right foot for the job” makes things SO MUCH EASIER. There are also specialty needles for everything. they are way more important than you think. You aren't changing your needle enough no, you aren't. and you need to change your needle even more often on some fabrics like silk and anything with hard bits.  i used to buy needles in the packages at the store on sale in huge bunches and get stared at.  (now i buy them in the industrial packs of 100 plus)

Your scissors are probably dull. certain fabrics are harder to cut, and for some scissors (most even) going from heavy denim to thin cotton or etc is a recipe for disaster.... but its also a truth that some things dull your scissors very fast.  scissors need to be sharpened or replaced . SO DO ROTARY CUTTER BLADES!  

You need a pressing station set up near your sewing area.  if you don't have room for anything else get a small iron, and a wool pressing mat... or set your sewing machine up on a pressing table. 80% of the difference between “home made” and “wow you made that?” is proper pressing at EVERY step. i know, i hate it... its still worth it.

You need silk pins. (or equivalent quality) The pins  you have been taught to use, or that came in a sewing kit, etc are TRASH, unless you are using them to stick pins in a map.  they are too big, too dull, and the plastic heads (if any) will melt if you iron them. GLASS or METAL or SILICONE headed pins only, ultra fine and ultra sharp. You can use clips instead of pins especially important on fabrics like leather, pleather, vinyl, and etc.  where pin holes are there forever. Interfacing can save your life, but you have the wrong interfacing i can almost guarantee you have a heavy, stiff interfacing when you think about it.  that stuff is only good for things like purses, and reinforcing pattern tissue (next post)  you want  a much lighter interfacing than you think.  if you have any doubt get a sample of fabric and a bunch of samples of interfacing and try then out. (label them) I’m a fan of tricot fusible myself, but it varies.

Interfacing can save your patterns. iron  your patterns flat, make them all nice and smooth, and then iron fusible interfacing to the back of it.  now it won’t tear, and you can avoid tracing off all the markings for a while. Stabilizer is not interfacing, but you want some of that too. you can use some interfacing as stabilizer, but... wash away, and tear away stabilizer are often sold for machine embroidery, but are a godsend when working with difficult fabrics or for doing certain techniques like scrap lace. Real linen, real silk, and real wool are not that expensive. I am talking about 100% not ‘mostly something else with a tiny bit of linen or wool thrown in’ but the real thing.  if you try to buy them at  the big chain stores, yes... if they even HAVE any its horribly expensive.  if you buy from a good fabric store, or a specialty mail order place, its going to cost you about the same as decent denim or good quilting cotton.  (Actually Linen, at least, is available much less expensively than big name quilting cotton)

corollary: most ‘inexpensive cotton’ is not worth buying. now if you are making a baby bib, which will be spit on and destroyed in a couple months to years? use any fabric.  For  quilts you plan to actually have quilted ($$$ or TIME), for  clothing you intend to wear,  basically for anything SERIOUS? cheap cotton won’t last. there are a handful of exceptions, the rare jewel in the  inexpensive big box store racks, but go put your hands on a really good cotton and then compare it to its  discount relative, and you will see why you shouldn't waste your hard earned time and energy on poor material.

Sergers a cheap serger is only good for swearing at.  spend that money on  getting a better sewing machine, or the best feet to mimic a serger function... or take out a loan and buy a GOOD serger. if you are very very lucky someone bought one and never used it and will give it to you, but... if you have been crying in frustration over your serger? it honestly may be them, not you.  (see if your local sewing shop  has a serger class... if they look sort of appalled or pitying  when you tell them the brand or model and then say something like “ Oh... ah... well bring it in and I’ll see if we can get that straightened out”  said in a tone like your grandmom just asked you to fix her email.... you probably need a new one)