#I know the colors aren’t exact but I’ve made all of these with yarn I just already have hehe

[donnieisaprettyboy]

hell yeah I gotchu

this also gives me the chance to show my final version of the pattern with all the alterations I’ve made! it makes the scales pointier and more separated rather than smushed together, a taller section above the drawstring cords, and a more defined border around the top :)

pride themed dragon scale dice bags I crocheted today! featuring transgender, aromantic, genderfluid, bisexual, and non-binary pride :)

to make all 5 it took about 11 hours from learning the pattern to completion. I’d like to start an Etsy shop so I’m doing practice runs and tweaking the pattern a little bit with each new bag before I start trying to list and sell any <3 I plan on gifting these ones to friends!

variations in the bags include hook size used to make it, drawstring length, and the height of the top of the bag

this pattern is a combination of this dragon egg dice bag pattern, this dragonscale stitch video, this Pokémon drawstring bag, and alterations I decide myself.

what pride flag should I do next? :)

[royalcordelia]

i found my voice (in her sweet melodies)

Summary: Christmas with Gilbert has never been traditional, but it always manages to steal Anne’s breath away. (A S3 + Married Shirbert Christmas Story).

This story is for @mariamancini who was one of three winners of my fic giveaway. I do hope you like it, dear!! ♥

***

December 1898.

For once in his life, Gilbert Blythe was blissfully unaware of the winter chill. It might have been the scarf Mary had just finished knitting for him with soft midnight blue yarn, or his father’s old sweater that he was finally beginning to fit into. Each breeze brought faint scents with it - the flowery perfume of Mary’s soap, the lingering essence of his father. 

Yet, Gilbert was only half aware of these comforts as he marched through the snow. Perhaps what really was warming him was the trail of footprints leading from his back door directly to the Green Gables homestead. The small boot tracks, without a doubt, belonged to the youngest member of the Shirley-Cuthbert household. Gilbert’s eyes glazed over as he walked, following the footprints, though his mind was off elsewhere. As it was, he couldn’t help but notice hints of Anne in everything he saw - the white-tipped tree branches, the cardinals on their high perches, the unique stellar shape of each snowflake that flurried before him. 

His thoughts were consumed by her up until the moment he saw her through her window. Anne - as lovely as she ever was, floury apron tied around her waist and her braids tumbling down her back. With movements somehow laced with affection, she kneaded a sugary dough on her kitchen table. Her lips moved in a song Gilbert couldn’t hear until he nudged the side door open. The melody from her lips was her favorite Christmas tune, “The Holly and the Ivy,” but the words were entirely of her making. 

“My footprints fall behind me, across this crystal field. It’s you I’ve come to see, my love. It’s you that brings me here.” Her voice echoed through the peace of the house like a hymn loose in a cathedral. “So come and stand beside me. And hold me in your arms. I long to lay close with you, beside our warm hearthfire.”

Already rosy from his trek through the cold, Gilbert felt his cheeks tingle. How tempting it was to pretend that this kitchen belonged to him and Anne, that the pastries she crafted with her loving hands were for their very own Christmas dinner. Just the two of them. She’s keep singing her song, and he’d heed its lyrics to reap all of its marvelous benefits...

With a shake of his head, Gilbert rapped his knuckles against the door before letting himself in. He’d been subject to too many of Marilla’s “Gilbert Blythe, you know you’re welcome anytime. Please let yourself in!” lectures to wait for Anne to get the door herself. Her head rose from her baking, and the sight of Gilbert made her face split into a grin. 

“Hello Anne,” Gilbert greeted warmly, unwrapping his scarf from his neck so that he could speak. If he’d been looking, he might have seen Anne’s eyes linger on his chin and neck as they became exposed, and if he’d been looking even closer, he might’ve noticed her bite her lip. But instead, he smiled and took a few steps into the room, tracking some melting snow in behind him.

“You look like a mountain man just now returning to society,” she teased, crossing over to him. With a captivating softness, she brushed a flurry of white flakes from his hair. Gilbert’s eyes watched her face with tenderness.  She was so close that he could smell the vanilla on her hands. Seeming to notice the boldness of her action, Anne gave a friendly sweep of her hands across his shoulders and then patted it firmly. “Ah, there’s the Gilbert Blythe I know. Next time wear a hat!” 

“It’s only a short walk across the field,” he argued.

“The field and the orchard,” she corrected.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. 

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” 

Anne moved back to the table and began to roll out her dough until it was as smooth as ice. 

“Do you ever need a reason to visit?” She peeled off a tiny bit of the dough and held it out to him. “Try this.” 

Gilbert smelled the sweetness of the biscuit dough seconds before he tossed it into his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to prepare him for how divine it tasted. His expression must’ve betrayed his thoughts immediately because Anne smiled in victory and began to press a circle shaped cutter into the dough. 

“You’ve outdone yourself, Anne. What are you baking for?” 

With a gasp, Anne slammed her hand down the table. The various bottles and containers of flavorings and flours rattled at the impact, but thankfully, nothing capsized onto the floor. 

“I nearly forgot! These biscuits were going to accompany me as my persuasive gift when I went to invite you and your family to Christmas dinner. I was going to leave as soon as they were out of the oven so they’d still be hot.” She paused, realizing she’d confessed her surprise plan. “I’d still like to make a formal invitation, if you don’t mind.” 

“I do mind, in fact,” Gilbert countered. Anne dropped her shoulders incredulously. “I’m afraid I’m here to make the same exact formal invitation, only I hope you will still accept even with my lack of baked goods.” 

“Gilbert Blythe, you mean you came here to-” 

“-to invite  you and your parents to Christmas dinner at our house, yes. You were kind enough to invite Bash and I last year. It’s only right that we return the invitation.” 

For a moment, Anne hesitated. She’d had been planning the Christmas dinner decorations for over a week, collecting the necessary stray ribbon and pinecones in her room. Anne felt it was far more comfortable to play hostess to your loved ones than be the guest, however perhaps that was merely her proclivity to hospitality rearing its head. 

But then she remembered the sweet laughter of baby Delphine and the fact that it likely had been many years since Mary had the chance to host a Christmas dinner for a full sized family. 

“Well?” Gilbert asked. Anne crossed her arms across her chest and pursed her lips.

“I tentatively accept on a few conditions,” she stated firmly. Gilbert cocked a brow but nodded for her to continue. “My first is that Matthew and Marilla must agree.”

“That’s a given.” 

“My next is that Mary absolutely let us bring a dish or two.”

“Alri-” Anne cut him off.

“ And I’d like to help Mary cook and decorate,” she concluded. Then remembering her manners, quickly added, “Only if it isn’t an imposition on her. I think it would be so lovely to spend time with her that way, especially since she’ll need an extra pair of hands to cook and take care of Delphine.” 

“You act like Bash and I don’t know how to take care of the baby,” Gilbert bristled, though not genuinely offended. Anne couldn’t help but smile warmly as she slid her tray of sugar cookies into the oven. 

“Oh, I’d never. Between the three of you and my family, that little girl will grow up with more love than she’ll know what to do with.” 

An unreadable expression crossed Anne’s face, but Gilbert noticed it before she could hide it completely. Maybe she was remembering the childhood of another little girl who never knew such an abundance. A sigh slipped through his lips. Things were different for Anne now, but if he could go back and provide all the love she’d been lacking, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Lost in his thoughts, Gilbert did not notice Anne dip her finger into the flour and walk up to him. With a dramatic flourish, she tapped his nose with the powdery substance.

“Do you accept my conditions or not, Mr. Blythe?” she asked playfully. Any hints of her past haunting her were gone now, but the ache in his chest that urged him to merely love her was still overwhelming. Gilbert rubbed his sleeve across his nose and smirked at her.

“I accept your conditions and offer one last offering of my own.” 

Anne nodded, eagerly awaiting whatever he had in store. She was too busy staring into his forest hued eyes that she didn’t flinch when he took a step closer. With the stealth of a storybook hero, Gilbert reached behind her into a small pile of flour and swiped it across her cheek. The white streak made it that much more endearing when she beamed up at him, but her smile turned heavy when his fingers lingered on her skin. For half a second, she felt his fingers move ever-so-slightly against her cheek to hold it, then-

“Why! Gilbert Blythe is here!” 

Anne and Gilbert jolted back a few steps, the latter wiping excess flour onto the sleeve of his coat with heated cheeks. Marilla took no notice of the tension she’d walked into, or if she did, she was kind enough to spare Anne any indication.

“Gilbert invited us to Christmas dinner with his family. Isn’t that positively grand?” Anne said, enthusiasm barely masking her distress. Surprise lit up Marilla’s countenance. 

“That’s awful kind of you, we’d be delighted!” Marilla said. 

“Wonderful! Bash and Mary will be thrilled to hear it,” Gilbert replied. He pulled his scarf from the hook and began to wrap himself back up, as neat as a Christmas package. “I ought to be heading back. I promised Mary I’d collect a few things for her in town so she can get a headstart. Anne, I’ll speak with her about you assisting her with the cooking.” 

Anne’s face was still the same color as her hair, but she nodded with a tight smile. He was halfway out the door when he turned back, sending her a look so intense with adoration that she shivered down to the soles of her feet.

“Until then,” he said softly. Then he was off back into the flurry of Avonlea snowfall, a figure of warmth amongst the blanketed crystal field. 

~*~

December 1907.

Initially, Gilbert thought it might be interesting to see what it was like to have the house entirely to himself, but all he felt was a dull loneliness in the background of his mind. Without work or Anne to distract him, he found himself keenly aware of a thousand oddities he’d never noticed before. There was a spot on his collar that was oddly itchy. A weird stain looked like a shadow of a spider above the kitchen stove. The tiny apron tied around his waist, which he borrowed from his ever-generous wife, constricted him like a snake skin, but was resolved to keep flour off of his pants and waistcoat.

Gilbert peered down at the countertop before him, analyzing the sticky dough he had just mixed together. Anne’s never looked quite like that. Maybe if he kneaded it more, it would take a more familiar shape? Clapping his floury hands together resolutely, a tiny cloud of flour exploded into his face. He coughed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand and began to fold the dough over on itself. 

That was how Anne found him ten minutes later, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, kneading biscuit dough with all of his manly strength. Under his breath, he sang a song that was too quiet for her to hear. Icing sugar was smeared across his cheek and his forehead, making Anne bite her lip. 

When the door closed behind her, his gaze shot up to hers. In all of her glory, Anne S. C. Blythe stared upon her husband with appreciative eyes, a bundle of firewood in her arms and dirt on the knees of her trousers. The sight of her broad shouldered and confident made Gilbert swallow, but his face was contorted in confliction. 

“Welcome home, my love,” he said, with controlled evenness.

“Thank you, darling,” she replied sweetly, wiping her snowy feet on the doormat. She made no move to rid herself of the logs tucked in her bicep. Gilbert’s brows knit together at the sight. “Charlottetown was positively rife with christmas spirit! Usually those townspeople are so dreadfully-”

Anne paused, noticing the somewhat pained look on her husband’s face. 

“Alright, out with it, Gilbert Blythe,” she ordered. Gilbert set down his dough and tried to look nonchalant, but only succeeded in appearing hesitant. Slowly he began to explain himself. 

“As your doctor, I logically know without a doubt that you are more than capable of lifting a few fire logs without any sort of danger to your health,” he began.

“Uh huh,” Anne drawled, amused. It wasn’t often Gilbert was so bunched up.

“And you know I respect your desire for us to do equal parts of all the work in the house, and return that desire.   I recognize that you specifically asked not to be coddled.” 

“But…?” 

Gilbert’s resolve melted away as he unburdened himself.

“But as your doting husband - who, by the way, loves you more than anything and anyone - it positively kills me to see you doing heavy lifting. What are husbands for if not to wait on you hand and foot so that you don’t need to lift a finger?” he exasperated.

With a patient sigh, Anne dropped the logs next to the stove and came to stand by her husband’s side, arms wrapping comfortably around his neck. Gilbert’s hands immediately cradled the bump on her stomach, rubbing the tiny spot where a growing baby could just barely be noticed. A print of his strong hands was left on the soft fabric of her dress in white flour, sending a chuckle through Anne’s throat. 

“Oh Gilbert Blythe, you have no idea how much I appreciate that you care for me to such extremes,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the spot on his cheek where the icing sugar was smeared. “I’d be lying if I pretended to be completely unaware that my, as you say, heavy lifting would bother you. But I’m just so anxious to get everything ready in time for when our families arrive, that when I saw the logs at the side of the house, I figured I’d knock one more thing off our to-do list.” 

“That’s what I’m here for!” Gilbert argued gently. “I’m baking your favorite cookies from Mary’s recipe, I cut down that tree you said you liked, set it up in the living room, and brought down the candles and ornaments. I’ve even started decorating the house.” 

With a hand running through his hair, Anne scanned over the house. Gilbert’s heart lifted in relief when an impressed smile filled her face. There were candelabras in the windows with sprigs of winter flowers underneath them and a garland of pine was placed on the mantle. Gilbert had channeled Anne’s artistic soul as he adorned it with pinecones, ribbon, and holly. 

“I left the table centerpiece and the wreath untouched so you could decorate them. I know how you love it so,” he explained. “I thought we could do the tree together, just like last year.” 

Anne held his face lovingly, nuzzling his nose with with hers before planting a soft kiss on his lips. The second she pulled back, something caught her eye. Above the fireplace,  Gilbert had hung not two, but three stockings - two adult sized, and one tiny one. Stepping away, she neared the stocking with a growing lump in her throat. With the stocking completely in sight, she noticed one word embroidered across the red fabric with an unskilled hand: Jem. 

“Gilbert…” she muttered with a bittersweet heart. “You don’t even know if the baby will be a boy, yet.” 

Anne relaxed when she felt her husband’s strong arms wrap around her waist, his  lips in her hair. 

“That’s why I put Jem instead of James. Even if the baby is a girl, she’ll still be our little gem. Joyce’s stocking is on the tree, up near the star.” 

Anne’s throat was too thick to say anything. She held Gilbert’s arms close to her and leaned her head back on his chest. It would be her first Christmas since she’d lost her first baby, but her and Gilbert had decided it wasn’t going to be a sad time. They’d make sure it was bright, peaceful, hopeful. That was why had invited the Lacroixs and the Cuthberts to their home this Christmas - to bring family near, to prove that they were alright. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Anne said quietly, spinning in his arms until there was hardly any room between their lips. “Since you’ve respected my wishes, I’ll respect yours and resolve to be slightly more relaxed.”  

Gilbert pressed his lips to the spot underneath her ear that made her shiver, and nodded against her skin. When he pulled back, he glanced at the clock. 

“Our families will be here in a few hours. Will you please help me salvage the gingerbread cookies? I fear I missed a step.”  

With a burst of laughter, Anne caressed Gilbert’s cheek. How wonderfully dependable he was, this husband of hers. She couldn’t remember what Christmas looked like without him by her side, and cherished the future of many, many more holidays spent together. In a few hours, they’d reveal the impending arrival of their family’s newest addition, but for now, Anne was quite content to bake biscuits with the man she loved and smear icing sugar along his lips for her to kiss. 

[floof-reppu]

Aight, so… this is my piece for the BNHA Writer's Fest, written for @ellectric-blue. I wanted to give you the best quality writing I could manage with my knowledge and time crunch, so I chose to write for Yaoyorozu. I've been a little bit preoccupied lately with a lot of family issues since it's that time of year, but nonetheless I was able to pump this out for you just in time. Happy Holidays to you!

Word Count: 2.4k

—

It was getting to be that time of year yet again; Christmas was just around the corner.

Many hours were always dedicated to shopping for friends and loved ones, this year being no exception. You had gotten to know your current friends over the course of the past few months, especially living at the dorms together with them for at least half that time. Going through such hardships together with your classmates solidified your bonds with one another and made this Christmas feel special to you.

The lot of you decided to host your own Secret Santa of sorts, which was fun and all, but you ended up drawing a name you… didn't exactly expect or desire to draw. Momo Yaoyorozu was more than just a fellow classmate or a friend; to you, she was your crush. To say that you were absolutely terrified was an understatement. She was rich beyond measure, something that you couldn't compare to in the slightest.

Yaoyorozu wasn't much of a materialistic girl thankfully, but it was hard to point out her exact interests and put them to heart. As far as she was concerned, she bought things out of habit and would rather better the economy than use her quirk and imbalance it. Maybe she would like something that you made yourself?

Instead of dawdling on the thought, you instead decided it might be nice to learn how to crochet. Homemade gifts were the best, because it shows how much you care, the time dedicated and the overall process being most meticulous. A scarf would look lovely wrapped around Momo's neck (and possibly around your own as well), a winter coat look sounding appeasing to you, and crocheting one couldn't be all that hard… right?

Your time limit made everything all that more stressful, as well as trying to hide the supplies from your fellow classmates, especially Ashido. If she found out, she would have an absolute fit and press for more information, which you couldn't have at all. That's why you did shopping by yourself, picking out the softest yarn at your disposal. The colors you'd chosen were a compliment to her hero costume: crimson and silver. They both look good on her regardless, but you thought it would be nice for a potential outfit.

Smuggling the materials into the dorms without getting caught wasn't as hard as you thought it would be, given that everyone was preoccupied with one thing or another. However… you did catch a glimpse of Yaoyorozu, and— well, she's walking over here now. Shit.

"Oh, Y/N? Everyone was wondering where you had gone!" The smile she had on her face sent butterflies through your stomach. She glanced down at the bag in your hand which you tried your best to hide from plain sight, but was too wide. "You went to the store? What did you buy?"

"Oh, ah… just a few things, nothing special…" You had to get away from her, and quick. Her eyes continually glanced at the bag, which you kept moving around to block from her sight. "Anyways, what are you up to? Not doing any shopping?"

"There's no need! I purchased my present the day I drew a name!" Momo had her hands folded in front of her body oh so characteristically of her as she spoke proudly. Of course she would have purchased something already. "It was quite easy for me to choose for the recipient of my Secret Santa gift."

"Oh… well, I'm still thinking of what to get mine."

"I'm sure whatever it is will be amazing, Y/N. You're such a thoughtful person, and I know whoever receives your present will absolutely cherish and adore it."

There she goes again, saying something so beautiful that it makes your heart melt. She always seemed to know just what to say to put you to ease, but it made you feel even more pressured to make your gift as perfect as possible so she isn't disappointed. Momo seemed to notice the awkward silence you gave her, blushing a bit out of embarrassment.

"I hope I haven't said anything wrong, Y/N."

"Oh, no! Not at all! I'm just thinking about what you said… thank you, Yaoyorozu. I'm going to start working on my gift now."

And with that, you gave her a small wave before going to your dorm room and practically throwing the yarn to the side. She almost caught you red-handed, but thankfully you were able to change the subject quick enough before she had the nerve to peek in your bag.

Opening the lid to your laptop, you searched up a tutorial on how to crochet a scarf, and thank goodness there was one that popped up immediately that seemed to be reliable enough to follow. You almost forgot that you bought the needles as well (because how would you have been able to crochet without the needles). Grabbing all the materials from the bag, you started to work on your hopefully wonderful masterpiece for Momo.

—

Weeks had passed since that fateful day, and with every new talent came bumps in the road. You had failed at least five times trying to make the scarf the way you wanted it to turn out, even while following the tutorial. Yarn was wasted and you even had to make a second trip to the store to purchase even more of it.

But your hard work finally paid off, and in front of you sat your finished creation. Each thread was carefully crocheted together perfectly, and you couldn't wait to present it to your crush. Putting it in a box and wrapping it up, you didn't put your name on it, instead writing Your Secret Santa on the tag. You didn't forget to put Momo's name on it, though.

Going down to the first floor, the tree looked marvelous and grand in the middle of the lobby. Presents were already adorning the underside of the tree, while bulbs and lights alike decorated the branches. A star was placed on the top, shining brightly and looking over you and everyone else. You remember putting it up with your friends vividly, as if it just happened yesterday. Iida and Yaoyorozu did most of the clean up when it came to the decorations, all of them being strung in the same places on the tree. Moving them so it looked nice was a must.

And there she was, Momo Yaoyorozu, dressed in some of the most Christmas-like articles of clothing she owned and sitting alone. Placing your present under the tree, you swiftly took a seat beside her, a blush evident on your cheeks.

"Merry Christmas, Yaoyorozu." She turned to face you as you spoke, a bit surprised since she wasn't really paying attention to the seat beside her before now. She returned your greeting earnestly, eyes closed and a wide grin taking up her face.

"Thank you, Y/N, and a Merry Christmas to you too. Are you excited for the Secret Santa present exchange?"

"Yes, I am. I can't wait for a certain someone to open my gift and hopefully smile just like a kid when they see what it is."

"I see. I'm quite confident that my gift with have that same effect, but I'm not sure… maybe I overdone it?" Momo opened her eyes, and for a second you saw a hint of doubt in her expression. "Gifts aren't always things you should buy, that much is for certain. Sometimes I wish Mother and Father would stop purchasing them and be a tad more creative."

"Do you get the same things every year?"

"Unfortunately so. Clothes are always high on the list as well as the newest technologies, but once in a great while I might receive something completely different."

"Really? Like—"

"Everyone, we are now going to start passing out the Secret Santa presents! Please refrain from opening yours until they are all handed out!" Iida was ever the wise one and cut you off, but for a good reason at that. Both Yaoyorozu and yourself directed your attention to the blue-haired president and his wild hand gestures as he spoke. The raven-haired girl beside you took that as her cue to stand up, dusting off her skirt.

"I apologize, Y/N. It's my duty as the vice president to help Iida with handing out the presents. You wouldn't mind saving my seat though, would you?"

"Of course not, take your time."

In a little less than ten minutes, everyone had their present on their lap. Ashido looked to be the most excited to open hers, while Bakugo glared at his. Your present seemed to be big, but not heavy, so you took it as something that was either a gag or a very expensive item (because everyone knows the smaller the gift the more it costs these days). Yaoyorozu sat down beside you yet again when she was finished, the box you had so precariously wrapped earlier placed on her legs.

"I'm quite curious to see what I've received. It's not on the heavy side, but…" She looked over at your present, the curious side of her lighting up yet again. "Perhaps you have a clue as to what your gift is, Y/N?"

"Not a clue. It looks like it would be something big, but it's so light that it doesn't feel like much." You wanted to shake the box, but you didn't want to break whatever was inside if it was fragile. Trying to keep the attention off of you, your head glanced down at the box in Momo's grasp. "Why don't you open yours first? We can see what each other has gotten that way."

"That is a very smart idea, Y/N. Very well, I'll open mine first."

Her hands went and tugged at the bow you added at the very last minute, pulling it free and making it easier for her to tear off the wrapping paper. She read the tag, a bit confused as to why there wasn't another person's name written. Nevertheless, she tore off the rest of the paper and lifted the lid to the box. Tissue paper covered your creation as well as a card you decided to put in so she knew who it was actually from. Pulling it out, she unfolded the envelope and stared wide-eyed at the card.

Momo Yaoyorozu,

I thought of you when I made this scarf for you with my own hands. Your family spoils you with material possessions, and nothing that comes from the heart. They want to make you happy with whatever you desire, but that's not what Christmas should always be about. It's about giving others heartfelt, thoughtful gifts. I hope you cherish this scarf as much as I cherish the time I spent making this for you. I wouldn't have it any other way.

With much love,

Y/N

You saw tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she read the card. She threw the tissue paper aside and took out your real gift, the one you handmade yourself. The silver accented the crimson perfectly, and she clenched the material in her hands. The tears started to flow like a fountain; that's when you knew that you did the right thing.

"Y/N, I… just can't believe that you spent so much time making this for me. You didn't have to do this—"

"I didn't do this because I had to, I did this because I wanted to. I… meant every word that I wrote on that card, Momo. I love you so much, and I would do anything for you. I wanted to make you smile, because God how I love it when you smile. I messed up a lot of times while I was making that, and even while training and studying I managed to get it done for you in just the nick of time," You paused, catching your breath and chuckling slightly, "but anyways, I hope you like—"

"Like it? Y/N, I absolutely love it. This is the most thoughtful present I've ever received. Thank you from the bottom of my heart," Momo wiped the tears away from her eyes and wrapped the scarf around her neck, her gaze fixed on yours, "so… would you care to open yours now?"

You nodded, prodding carefully at the paper covering your present. Whoever wrapped it used a lot of tape, which wasn't the best idea in a situation like this, so it caused you to take a bit of extra time tearing it off. Finally, it was revealed to you.

The one who had your name was none other than Yaoyorozu herself.

Neither of you expected for it to end up this way, but it was quite the pleasant surprise. You looked at the culprit out of the corner of your eye and opened the box at the same time, revealing a card for you as well.

Y/N,

I know how much you adore the Christmas holiday, as well as books. I myself, as you may already know, enjoy both just as much as you. My gift to you comes from the heart, as I have purchased a book full of Christmas fables for us to enjoy. I would love for us to sit under a blanket together and read it.

This is the most discreet way I could confess my romantic feelings. I would very much love to spend more time with you, as well as… get to know you more than I already do.

Please accept my invitation as well as my feelings.

Momo Yaoyorozu

This was… no way was this happening.

"Y/N…?" Momo sounded worried, her pitch lowering drastically as she met your gaze once again.

"Yes. Yes, Momo, of course I accept your feelings." Now you were the one that was tearing up, grasping the book in your hands and letting the box drop on the ground. "I want this to be the first thing we do together. Tonight."

"I would love to, Y/N."

You spent the rest of the night in the comfort of your own room, Momo and yourself wrapped in a blanket with no worries whatsoever as you took turns reading aloud the many tales. When you were at the last few pages, a blank space was occupying them.

This was where you were going to write your own Christmas Story, with you and Momo as the main characters.

You would never, ever forget this day.

[unsure-but-learning]

Hi all!

Today I’ll be ranting a bit about a frustration I have. Stay with me!

Alright, so none of you know this, but I’ve been crocheting for about a year. I really love it, and originally learned how to from my mom to donate lgbtq flag shawls (for community service credits for school.) Which, was great! We donated them to an lgbtq domestic abuse center about this time last year (which was great because my old school was christian as fuck ((it’s a long story)) and this was a way of helping people AND spiting the school, so heck yeah.) Here’s an image:

(I made the genderqueer, one of the trans, and the bi. My mom made the rainbow and other trans. Not pictured is a pan shawl I also made.)

But now, since it’s pride month, I was thinking about selling some shawls!

Aaaand here’s where the problems begin.

I already have an ace shawl completed from a few months ago (yay!) and have been working on a bear shawl. Here’s my issue:

Yarn does not come in all colors.

Let me explain.

For some flags, the colors can be hard to find, or simply not available. Some colors I just plain can’t find in-store and would need to order them online. I don’t have a lot of money, and ordering online can get expensive, plus a lot of colors are unavailable/sold out online. One way I’ll be combating this is by buying one ball of yarn in-store a day, at a store that has a 50% off online coupon you can use for each purchase. Yay!

But, this won’t work if the yarn simply isn’t available.

Here’s an example with the bear shawl of how I kinda limped along.

Here’s the bear shawl:

Nice, right? It’s got lots of cool colors, and-

Oh, wait. The middle color, orange, and brown are basically unavailable colors.

Here’s how I’ve “gotten around” this:

The biggest issue is that middle almost peach color. In my “fix,” it’s basically a cream. The orange is also way darker than the one pictured in the bear flag. We didn’t even think we would find a suitable replacement for any of the non-grayscale colors. It literally took a few weeks of store searching to find these replacements.

(it’s not finished yet so the brown isn’t pictured, but it’s considerably darker than the one on the flag.)

“But J,” You might say, “What if you used a different brand that has that color?”

Here’s the second issue:

When crocheting, you need to use the same brand.

For example, I use Red Heart (since it’s affordable and locally available,) but there’s another brand called Caron yarn that I could also use. But! Caron yarn is much thicker than Red Heart, so I can’t interchange the two. Doing this would look… Bad, Bulky, and it most likely wouldn’t lay straight. I’m pretty sure Caron yarn is also more expensive.

So right now, I’m having a conundrum. I really want to make the new lesbian flag, but I’m pretty sure a lot of the colors will not be avalible in store.

Here’s the flag. I’m pretty sure I can find the light orange and light purple in store, but I’m not certain I can exactly match the darker of these two colors. (the white is obviously available.)

So, here’s my list of problems (not all related to this flag, just in general with crocheting pride flags/anything):

1. I don’t have a lot of money right now, and I’m not even sure if these will sell.

2. Some colors aren’t available in the yarn I can afford

3. Mixing brands isn’t an option

4. More expensive yarn means a more expensive item.

5. More colors means a more expensive item.

Now, let me get into that last one.

When pricing crochet items, the typical rule is to multiply the cost of materials times 3. This way, it covers the time spent making the item as well. So, going back to the asexual flag I made:

This shawl took four colors to make. Each ball of yarn costs about $3.44 before tax. That means this shawl cost $13.76 to make, pricing it to sell at $41.28, or just $42. It adds up fast!

But, for a flag like this one, with eight colors:

It would cost about $27.52 for materials, making it an $82.56 (or just $83) shawl.

Some flags also require more than one ball of yarn for each color, like the trans flag shawl:

I think I only needed one ball of the blue, but we needed to buy two balls of the pink yarn to complete this, making materials cost about $17.20. So the end product cost would be $51.60 (or $52.)

The good news is that sometimes, we’ll already have some of the colors needed to make the shawl. This not only reduces the cost of materials, but also the cost. For example, we almost always have white and black on hand, making it so we don’t have to buy more yarn (at that time.)

My end point is:

Arg!!! Yarn colors are hard to find sometimes which makes things difficult! Urrg. I think I’ll be able to scrounge out yarn colors that look similar to the ones on the lesbian flag, but I’m still frustrated I won’t be able to find exact matches. I’m also frustrated that each flag I make is going to have a different price point. It would be nice if they were all the same price, but that just isn’t possible. It would make all of them incredibly expensive.

Anyway. Thanks for reading my long and probably not relatable rant lol. Check KnotsAndFibers on Etsy to maybe see some shawls go up maybe this month? (also my parents have lots of cool stuff on there, so check it out anyways lol)