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the-iron-shoulder · 15 days ago

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Weebo crochet and pattern!

So I loved Magi-Nation when I was a kid. Lived and breathed it. Spent soooooo many hours and sooooo much money on the card game, got as many friends as I possibly could roped into it, the works. It was just a delight to me.

The game's been defunct for decades now but it still holds a place in my heart, so I decided I'd make a little Weebo! This is my... third, I think? amigurumi that I did freehand, without using a pattern that someone else made. But unlike the last couple, I took notes when I made this one, so there's a pattern for anyone who wants to make their own below the cut!

WHAT YOU NEED

Materials:

Yarn: Orange, white, dark brown, buff

For the one in the photos, I used size 3/DK yarn made of cotton.

Crochet hook or hooks

For the one in the photos, I used a size C/2.75 mm hook.

You can make the plush bigger or smaller by changing the hook size and the yarn size as you see fit.

Safety eyes (2)

Stuffing

Cardboard (for the inner feet)

Embellishments for the toenails: either needle felting supplies or yarn embroidery supplies

This can be as simple as a yarn needle and some gray or beige yarn

I needle-felted it, so that would be a felting needle, a foam work pad, and some gray or beige felting fiber

General crochet accessories (pins, yarn scissors, yarn needle, stitch markers, etc.)

Knowledge:

Single crochet (sc), magic ring (MR), increase (inc), decrease (dec), chain (ch), fasten off

I make some references to slip stitches and invisible finishes; those are all optional

Basic plushie sewing (I don't tell you when to attach yarn or when to knot it or hide it)

I'm not using a specific named stitch when sewing the pieces together. If you like using specific named stitches, you'll probably end up using whip stitches and/or ladder stitches, but if you're already familiar with those terms, you're experienced enough to figure this all out anyway.

Body (Orange cap)

First we're going to make the big orange mushroom cap. This is pretty simple. Use orange yarn.

MR 6 (6)

Inc 6 (12)

(sc, inc) x6 (18)

(sc 2, inc) x6 (24)

(sc 3, inc) x6 (30)

(sc 4, inc) x6 (36)

(sc 5, inc) x6 (42)

Sc around (42)

(sc 6, inc) x6 (48)

10-12. sc around (48) (3 rds)

13. Back loops only this round: sc around (48)

14. (sc 6, dec) around (42)

15. (sc 5, dec) around (36)

16. (sc 4, dec) around (30)

17. (sc 1, dec) around (20). Note that this is a faster decrease than we've been doing. Fasten off. I found it easier to attach the white ring first before stuffing the orange cap, but you can stuff it when you find it to be convenient.

Images of the side and underside of the finished orange cap.

White Ring

For the white ring around the body, use white yarn. Make a magic ring with 6 sc (so MR 6), then just SC around for approximately 52 rounds, until the tube that you make is long enough to wrap all the way around the orange cap. Depending on how tight your stitches are and so on, this may be a little more or a little less than 52 rounds, but that's what it was for me. As you go, periodically measure the tube against the orange cap to see when it's going to fit around nicely. You're going to sew it to the cap roughly at where the back loop only round was, but this can be adjusted as you see fit.

Image of the white tube stretched out

Fasten off at the end with a long tail for sewing; you can finish with a slip stitch or an invisible finish but it won't really matter since you're sewing it to itself to make a loop.

When I made mine, I sewed it to the body right after making it. You might choose to also leave this step for last, so that you have more room to work on the underside. I don't think that will make a huge difference.

There's no need to stuff the ring unless you REALLY want to, but I wouldn't.

Images of the white ring stitched to the orange cap

Foot (make four)

Use dark brown yarn. The toenails can be embroidered on or needle-felted on; use beige or gray material. I suppose you could even cut them out of premade felt or premade fabric and glue or sew them on if that's what you really want; point is, they're not directly part of the crocheting process. In the photos, mine are needle-felted on. (If you have a felting needle, it's very easy; just stab your felting fiber into the right approximate shape, position it on the doll, and stab it repeatedly until it holds itself in place.)

Chain 5, turn. Sc 3, 3 together in next sc so you're moving around to the opposite side of the chain row, skip 1, sc 2, inc (10) (The skip 1 part is always a little weird for me because I didn't realize I was doing it until the third or fourth foot, but as long as you end up with 10 stitches in your row, you're good. The goal is to be stitching in the round but to make it kind of oblong instead of a perfect circle, hence why we're using a chain instead of a magic ring.)

Image of going around the chain to the opposite side

Image of row 1 completed

2. Inc, sc 2, inc, sc, inc, 2 sc, inc, sc (14)

3. Inc, sc 2, inc, sc, inc, sc, inc, sc 2, inc, sc, inc, sc (20)

4. Back loops only for this round: sc around (20)

5-7. Sc around (20) (3 rounds).

NOTE: After the first or second of these, if you're using cardboard to stiffen the feet to make it stand up more easily, this is a good time to trace and cut out the cardboard (I used two layers; do what feels right for the materials you have on hand) and stick it inside the foot. Make sure you tuck in the initial end of the yarn before you add the cardboard or else doing so will get annoying.

8. Sc, dec, sc 3, dec, sc 3, dec, sc 3, dec, sc 2 (16)

NOTE: If you're embroidering (rather than needle felting) the toenails, now is a good time to do that. If you're needle felting them, wait until after you've stuffed the foot.

9. Sc around (16)

NOTE: Speaking of stuffing the foot, this is when I started doing that, then stuff as you go until you start combining the feet in row 12.

10. (sc 2, dec) x4 (12)

11. Sc around (12). For the first three feet, fasten off. For the fourth foot, don't cut the yarn yet.

12. Once you have all four feet (with toenails, however you're choosing to do them), set them together on your workspace clustered in a square. Each foot should slope slightly (i.e., they're not perfectly symmetrical); position them so that the narrower parts are all together in the center.

Image of the feet arranged and pinned

12 cont. Pin the feet in place to each other to hold them steady; make sure the bottoms are all flat. I left the pins in until after I finished sewing them to the underside. Go back to your active loop and crochet around the four feet so they're all together in one round.

Image of crocheting the feet together

12 cont. You don't really need to count specific numbers of stitches at this point; a few of the existing stitches aren't going to get used because you're just going around the outsides. See the picture. SC around for one full round and end your round near but not at a corner (if your feet are in a square and you imagine the square as a clock, it's at about 10:00 or 2:00; see picture). Our goal now is to make one end of this taller so that the cap ends up peeking up at an angle.

Image of approximately where you'll finish row 12

13. Mark where you ended and then chain 1 and turn. Going in the opposite direction from before, sc across until you get to roughly the mirrored position. See diagram. (Diagram assumes right-handed crochet. For left-handed crochet, mirror it, i.e., you're going counterclockwise instead of clockwise when you go "backwards.")

14. Mark where you ended. Chain 1 and turn. Sc all the way around the entire thing now. When you're at the "shelf" between row 12 and the raised part of row 13+, do a decrease down (or up) the side; see photo. Go a stitch or two past where you started (so that you've done the decrease up the shelf as well as down it) and fasten off, leaving a long tail for sewing. You can finish with a slip stitch or an invisible finish but it's not critical. Image of doing a decrease down the side of the shelf

Underside Use buff (or tan/beige/taupe/etc.) yarn. Our goal here is to make a really floppy circle, so we're going to use a huge number of increases. This absolutely will not lay flat, and it isn't supposed to! It's specifically supposed to be wrinkly and saggy, as is the eventual fate of all of our bottoms. 1. MR 6 2. Inc 6 (12) 3. Inc 12 (24) 4. Inc 24 (48) 5. (Sc 1, inc) around (72) 6. (sc 1, inc) around (108) 7. (sc 17, inc) around (114) 8. (sc 18, inc) around (120) 9. (sc 9, inc) around (132). Fasten off. If you want to be fancy and leave a long tail for sewing the underside to the orange cap, you absolutely can do that. I tried to do that and eventually ended up cutting it off because it kept getting in the way as I was sewing the feet to the underside, so if you tend to have problems with yarn getting tangled when you sew, maybe leave it short.

Image of the floppy underside measured against the body

Assembly • Position the feet (which should be a single unit now) in the center of the underside and stitch them on. Because of the raised portion from rows 13-14, the underside will be kind of at an angle. Be careful to keep the feet centered; because the underside is so floppy, it's really easy to accidentally get shifted around if you're not careful. Make sure that the feet all stand mostly flat on the ground but that the underside is tilted.

Image of the underside attached to the feet at an angle

• Position the body on the underside and use a lot of pins to hold it in place. Basically, the places where you put pins will end up getting stitched to the body and the places between the pins will be big floppy wrinkles that fold in on themselves.

Image of the underside being pinned to the body and forming the wrinkles

The front of the doll is the part where the cap is raised (where you built the extra "shelf" on the feet). Attach safety eyes to the underside facing the front. Make sure that when you re-pin this, the eyes are mostly flat and not folded into a wrinkle.

Image of putting the safety eyes on the front

• Sew the underside to the cap, and sew the wrinkles to themselves so that you don't have any openings. If you haven't done so already, sew the white ring to the orange cap (in the photos, I did that first, but I can understand why you might choose otherwise).

• All done! Enjoy your little Weebo!

#crochet #my crochet #crochet pattern #free pattern #amigurumi #magi nation #magi-nation #weebo #naroom #i made this #free crochet pattern #fiber arts

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green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle · 6 months ago

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THE NIGHT BELONGS TO YOU CHAPTER 3

Blade x fem reader fanfic

MASTERLIST

Summary of part 3 - Reader lives among stellaron hunters, makes genuine connections and slowly becomes one of them

Chapter 3 – Tangled up like branches in a flood

Between playing games with Silver Wolf at which Y/n sucked, ( but enjoyed them, so who cares) and conversations with Elio (she was told by Destiny’s Slave himself to refer to him as such after short time) weeks passed quickly and happily with Stellaron Hunters.

Y/n couldn’t say that she wasn’t treated well, her room was spacious and comfortable one with king sized bed and huge bookshelf full of grimoires, they even put up a little herb garden in her room. She had supplies for her numerous hobbies, yarn for crochet and knitting, painting tools, even her favourite instrument to practice with to Kafka’s delight as she always craved some company while honing her violin skills.

She was quickly introduced to her share of housework which wasn’t a terrible one, she got to do things she didn’t really mind doing especially those that others didn’t like, overall it wasn’t overwhelming. If anything she was too proud to admit but it seemed life together was much easier, at least no more triggering her sensory issues with washing dishes. With time her attachment to Stellaron Hunters grew.

They behaved towards each other like a found family and there was nothing Arkonian missed more than her own one. Maybe that’s why she loved how Blade and Silver Wolf’s friendship looked like? Each time she noticed them joke around together and spend quality time regardless if it was work-related, going out in disguise to enjoy festivals or parallel play when Wolf gamed and Blade slept with his eyes open next to her - y/n thought about her father and how they used to do that too, minus the whole incognito thing.

She wasn’t the part of their dynamic, yet it still brought her comfort. Even when she spent time with Silver Wolf Blade almost never spoke to her, despite his gaze always finding her and observing her every move.

- Y/n, would you like to play Tekken with me? Blade hurt his hand again, he can’t hold the controller properly. - Wolfie casually suggested, giving him a piece of bubble gum. He took it gently into his bandaged hand. Fresh blood was visible on white material.

- Sure, why not. Tekken 7 or 8? I main Kazumi or Jun.

- You like Mishimas’s girls? - teen teased her.

- What can I say, they have great taste in women, I mean... Have you seen Jun’s leg cutter move? So hot. - y/n didn’t even try to pretend she was normal about those characters. - By the way, what happened to our friend?

He winced at the word she chose to describe him with but didn’t oppose when y/n sat on the floor between his and Wolfie’s legs. She didn’t want to get the chips crumbs scrambled here and there on the couch stuck on her black pants.

- During the mission some glass shards from broken window cut his hand. Don’t worry, he heals much faster than average person, his curse does come with a few blessings. - Wolfie answered instead of the man, who looked like he wanted to say a few bitter words about such unwanted “blessings” that only delay his eternal rest. Unbothered by his grumpiness girl continued. - Here is your controller, we play the new Tekken. Blade just bought it for me today.

- That’s very kind of him. - y/n admitted. She only earned unamused glance from the man.

- He is way nicer than he seems to be at first, you will understand.

Out of 7 matches they played y/n won only two, but claimed to be good at Tekken. Just, you know, trying new techniques for fun and gawking at Jun’s design. Wolfie turned out to be Yoshimitsu main but tried Hwoarang once. Blade didn’t utter a word through the whole game but passed them snacks from nearby table. Perhaps those spicy shrimp chips were enough for y/n to forget how annoying he could be sometimes. Did she imagine this or did he really gave up last few chips from his bowl so she could have them?

***

Later, when Silver Wolf and Y/N were alone the former reassured her.

- Don’t worry about Blade, he isn’t in the best place mentally. He usually avoids outsiders like a plague. You are new here and we don’t know yet for how long will you be willing to stay with us or if we can trust you. It’s already a miracle he sits next to you out of his own will, I think he doesn’t dislike you. - girl grinned.

- I don’t know about that. - y/n laughed in response – Your gloomy friend constantly stares at me like he wants to see all my previous lifetimes.

Hacker cackled wildly at that.

- Oh come on, he’s not that bad. He is just... A bit intense. But trust me, he doesn’t hate you. You would know if he would. You haven’t seen him like that yet, he’s like some fallen angel of revenge.

- Sounds like I really don’t want to get on his bad side. - medium scrunched her nose.

Even more often she marveled at Blade’s friendship with Firefly, the girl that craved life but hers was meant to be cut short, while he craved nothing more than for his immortal suffering to come to end, he could find some hope for peace only in death, just like one of Y/N’s relatives back then on Arkona... Yet Firefly and Blade deeply respected each other, understood each other in a way nobody else ever did and took care of each other in subtle way. It was so sweet.

In general, y/n considered the way everybody here accommodated disabled people of the group without infantilising them or making them seem like a burden. For example – Blade let girls play on his phone, but when he needed them to type a message to somebody which was hard for him to do because of constant stiffness of his hands – he didn’t need to ask them twice even in the middle of unstoppable game. Perhaps the pain in his hands is the reason why he barely used his phone in general. He always spoke to the girls with respect, never let them feel inferior despite age difference, y/n chose to believe that the day he got his ass kicked by Sam was not the only reason why.

Firefly’s entropy loss syndrome wasn’t a tabu, nobody tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but it was not a secret that time spent together was precious to them due to her shortened lifespan. She was always the closest with Blade, yet y/n suspected the one who cherished her the most was Kafka herself. The problem is even if Kafka tried her best at being there for Firefly it only seemed to create more distance.

Y/n believed in Kafka’s good intentions towards her crewmates. She always checked on their wellbeing, listened to Silver Wolf’s ideas when nobody else took them seriously and she was the one covering for them in front of the boss when they ignored the script on missions. The way in which girls asked her if they can bend the rules a bit each time made y/n remember how she used to ask her auntie to calm her mother down later if she wanted to misbehave. Despite that, y/n believed that Kafka, so known for being completely fearless, tried to shield herself from others to avoid getting too close.

It came to her mind one day while she was cleaning and organizing Kafka’s collection of coats alongside it’s owner.

- This one might need to be repaired before it gets back into the closet. - y/n suggested.

- What is it dear? - woman furrowed her brow, taking a look at damaged sleeve Arkonian held in front of her. - Is that blood? I really liked this one...- she sighed. - Don’t worry cutie, the blood definitely isn’t mine.

While that woman was always charming, polite and elegant – she was also a mysterious one, doing her best to not pick up any personal topics. She clearly wanted company, valued people around her and in some way, y/n was sure she needed them. Yet, she never truly let go of her defences. She seemed to be honest with you, telling you things without sugarcoating, but at the end of the day you didn’t really knew who she was. She didn’t lie but she never opened up either.

At one point this enigmatic woman put down the last one of her coats and looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. Artificial light enhanced her facial features, emphasized her subtle expression. Kafka had that kind of sadness in her eyes y/n only saw in people who lost somebody who meant world to them, full of regret as if her soul could burst out of the seams under the weight of words unsaid, unconfessed feelings. Quickly, she concealed those emotions and closed the closet door. Y/n didn’t ask about it.

She didn’t want to pry, sometimes we need to let people keep their secrets, it’s a form of dignity too, like clothing that covers your body. Y/n knew better than anyone else – it's not a good thing to show your open wounds to people. After all Arkona left a hole in her heart that will never heal.

Still, she tried to fill it, went out to run whenever she could, hiked the mountains to feel the blood rush through her body. To feel alive. Usually Firefly joined her during those activities, when you know you don’t have much time left you try to make every day meaningful. More often than not she had to take on SAM form during those to not overwhelm her body. To Firefly having a chance to see the beauty of nature, of world around herself – that was everything, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it one day.

During one of those hikes Y/n sat down next to younger girl on a boulder and passed her a thermos full of hot chocolate. They looked up at the setting sun, while two out of three moons this particular planet they chose to roam had slowly showed on the sky as pale crescents. Memories flood y/n’s mind. She turned her head towards her friend, only to see Firefly observing her with understanding in her eyes.

- Can I tell you something I haven’t told anybody else?- Y/n whispered with trembling voice.

- Of course, did something happen? - girl seemed to be concerned.

- Back then, on my home planet I used to live next to the mountain, it used to be known in common language as Saintcross, our original name would sound too strange to you. You know what kind of reputation Arkonian language has. Whenever harsh winds and storms destroyed roofs of the houses in nearby villages my mother used to pray to Saintcross so it keeps us safe... She used to say it’s like a natural shield against those. I didn’t always believe that, cause in the area around them harsh winds were not uncommon but our home stood safe through it so I guess her prayers were listened to. Till the abominations came and split my mountains apart. - Arkonian’s face was wet with all the tears and she trembled so hard Firefly noticed it despite thick winter jacket covering y/n’s body .– Then there was nothing to protect us anymore. Nothing to pray to. Smoke covered sky so no stars shone above us at night and no sun was to be seen at day.

Firefly didn’t knew what to do when people cried so she just held y/n till she calmed down. Then she spoke as well.

- My kind was meant to live fast and die in the flames of battle. In my lifetime I saw my comrades die again and again, I’m was used to losing those around me, that at some point I truly, foolishly believed that I can’t feel grief. We were made to fight Swarm but we lived like a hivemind ourselves. Only our purpose mattered, not who we were. To some extend we were made to believe we were all the same, like army of clones. - she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Arkonian’s arms around her tightened. - One thing I really need to do before enthropy takes me away from this world is to learn who I am. Only I myself can give sense to my life. I was made to burn, so in this fire I will forge myself in any shape I desire. - ambition shone in her eyes with intensity of the sun itself.

- I am sure you will reach your goal, maybe even to some extent it’s already done. - y/n gently smiled.

- Why would you say that? - girl livened up a bit.

- I never saw anybody burn as bright as you do. Take in everything like you do. Embrace life in all it’s colors. All stars shine in the sky but my people always looked up to the brightest ones. You remind me so much of myself from my younger days in that aspect, I used to beg my family to take me up the mountain as often as possible, just so I could feel closer to divinity of sun, clouds and constellations. It made me feel so alive I wanted to scream from mountaintop. - y/n sighed. - Not to mention, growing up I had both a sweet tooth and tendency to try unconventional meals, I bet we would eat Oak Cake Rolls together if we knew each other back then. You need to try my favourite Anyżki cookies as well.

- Oh, do you know how to make them? I can use SAM's heating ability to help you bake them. - Firefly flexed a bit with a tiny smirk.

- Ummm...I need to refresh my memory, but as soon as I put my hands on that recipe we get to work bestie.

Firefly took of her helmet and put her head on y/n's shoulder with pleased expression on her face. They watched as the third moon became visible, distant howling of wolves filled the atmosphere. Arkonian felt like in trance, tranquil after the storm of her emotions drained her energy. She sobered up once the first moon begun to set.

- Maybe we should go. It’s getting late and I overheard Elio talk to Blade about something to do early in the morning tomorrow if everything goes well. - y/n’s voice interrupted peaceful moment they shared.

Firefly got up and they walked back in complete silence, no words were needed.

Y/n didn’t know if her friend told anybody about what happened, but after she came down to the kitchen that night to get some pills for her insomnia, she met Kafka who silently gave her a cup of hot milk with honey with reassuring smile on her face.

When she returned to her bedroom she found burning lavender incense placed on her bedside table, next to the small bouquet of red flowers identical to those Blade always had with himself. She didn’t recall putting any of those there, but was to tired to worry about that. Lavender managed to put her at ease, out of nowhere quiet violin music as hypnotizing as Kafka’s voice reached her ears and put her to sleep. For the first time since the fall of Arkona – she had no nightmares.

***

Humming to herself y/n cheerfully went to Elio’s office. She felt so much better after that night, her first one of good sleep in years. Right before she reached for door handle her mind was engulfed with vision of way too bright light that caused her pain and out of it stepped Terminus holding a star in his hand, complicated sigil drawn on it’s surface. Y/n felt her legs give up, she expected her body to hit the floor but then she felt the embrace of two strong arms, smell of fresh blood and Red Spider Lily flowers. Red, observant eyes of darkhaired male attentively checked for the shadow of discomfort in her eyes as he picked her up. She felt her cheeks blush under his gaze.

- Are you alright? - he asked.

She wondered why a man with such an attractive, manly voice speaks so rarely. Yet when he did usually it was a witty response or a sharp remark. Out of all Stellaron Hunters he was the hardest to connect to, even Kafka allowed her closer than he ever did. Always so fixated on his pain and deathwish, he avoided anything that could get him attached back to his life, with exception of other Stellaron Hunters. Y/n hoped one day this privilege will also be hers to enjoy. She snapped out of her thoughts as Blade got concerned with her silence.

- I just had a vision. I need to go to Elio’s office, he should hear about this.

- No way I will let you go there on your own, you barely stand. - Blade sighed. - Let me carry you there if that really can’t wait.

***

Elio raised his tail up in excitement while he looked at the sigil’s sketch in front of him.

- So that’s what Terminus meant by those words last week. If I understand correctly this thing over here might be a special charm, when it’s put on a proper mechanism it allows to extract energy from stellarons, this might be a true revolution. Can you imagine? If we could use all those stellarons we sealed through the years to our advantage, one of the biggest threats against humanity working in it’s favour. Do you remember prototype we build in hopes of achieving such thing?

- Yes, I made sure craftsman working on it were the absolute best I could find. - claimed confidently Blade. - I took part of planning it’s design by myself, nothing had a chance to go wrong under my watch even if I couldn’t work on it with my hands. Yet, we failed. Do you suggest infusion could help the machine work in a more stable way?

- That’s what I believe Terminus tried to tell me. There is no time to waste, we need to act without hesitation. Y/n, are you ready for your first mission for Stellaron Hunters? - Elio asked tho he already knew the answer.

- Of course. - Y/n hurriedly assured him. - I am ready.

- Good – he purred in response – There is a stellaron in hands of IPC nearby that we can try your sigil and Blade’s machine on. Grab it from the workshop and you are ready to go. According to my visions everything should go smoothly. I will give you coordinates of the object, you must attempt to seal it within machine and bring it here. Blade already knows this particular base, he and Kafka had a mission there last week. It should be easy for you guys to not get caught redhanded. I don’t expect many guards in your way. Two of you will set off without delay.

***

Blade threw microwave-sized machine at the backseat of the red, old-fashioned car and closed the door. He sat at the drivers place. Y/n noticed how he checked in a discreet way if her seatbelt is fixed. She didn’t want to disturb him while he was driving so she concentrated on the highway in front of her. Not even ten minutes have passed when he initiated a conversation to her surprise.

- Aren’t you shocked that I know how to drive? People usually ask me about it. Not very unexpected concern if you take my narcolepsy, suicidal tendencies and constant mara attacks into consideration. - his eyes didn’t leave the road the whole time but she noticed a slight crooked grin on his face.

- Not very much, Silver Wolf told me you used to be a blacksmith on Xianzhou Zhuming, Furnace Master even. I worked there, infusing their weapons with charms, so I know just how much effort and talent it takes to achieve something like this in such place, full of geniuses. I am aware you created many complicated machines during your previous lifetime, so naturally I thought you would be into all things related to such things. - she tried so hard to not say anything stupid but butterflies she felt in her stomach betrayed her time and time again.

- So you two gossip about me in your free time? I could convince Kafka to give you both some more responsibilities around the house. Separately. - he threatened but badly hidden smile on his face showed he wasn’t really upset. - How are things on Xianzhou? I bet those self-centered, arrogant idiots haven’t changed a bit since I last saw them. Always so proud, on their Xianzhou ships, yet completely delusional in their pursuits. They condemned me but their sins are way heavier than mine. - Blade laughed in a bitter way. Since when was he so talkative? He never spoke much, but when she was around the most you could get out of him was maybe a short sentence despite the way he looked at her constantly.

- To be fair the only reason it still stands is general Jing Yuan. - y/n dared to criticize Xianzhou as she still felt betrayed by them after people she trusted almost handed her to IPC – He seems to be the only person there that uses their brain for something, so he is used by them day and night, he barely sleeps.

- It must be hard on him, I don’t remember much from my previous life including some habits of my former friends, but from what I’ve heard his sleepiness is legendary.

- He is even called the slumbering general. - y/n admitted with a giggle. She hoped it wasn’t too enthusiastic. The thought of Blade somehow discovering her crush on Jing Yuan when she had a bit of a crush on him as well just didn’t sit with her right. Could you blame her? Almost every girl on Xianzhou Xianzhou was enchanted by talented general.

- Did they treat you well? - Blade looked at her this time, she knew she couldn’t lie under his penetrating gaze. He would figure her out in seconds.

- Yes, they did. I found many good colleagues in the forgery, but I never really became friends with anybody. I mostly kept to myself. The closest to a friend I had was Master Zhang.

- I don’t recall such name. - Blade slightly frowned.

- He was the one that warned me about IPC trying to get me, without him they would catch me without problem.- she mentioned Zhang with gratitude in her heart. - Everybody else had no issue with turning me in, at least from what I’ve heard. I guess current Furnace Master didn’t plan to stay silent when he saw what my enchanted weapon could do if he could get on the good side of IPC at the tiny cost of one of his employees.

Blade chuckled darkly.

- They turned their back on me as well. - his gaze went numb, he seemed to recall past grudges. Through gritted teeth he murmured – Out of five....three must pay the price.

His grip on the driving wheel tightened. Y/n wondered if he was about to get mara struck and how should she behave if that happens, when a bullet broke the car glass in front of them and flew right by her left ear.

#hsr blade #honkai blade #blade x reader #honkai star rail

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justablah56 · 2 years ago

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How did you make the autism creature?????? It looks amazing!

sorry this took a while for me to get to, but thank you !! I'm glad you like it !

this is gonna be kinda long cause I have no idea how much background knowledge you might have with this, so I'm gonna assume zero and just give a very thurough step-by-step on how to make these little bitches <3

so Its made completely out of yarn, felt, and glue, so it's pretty cheap. but basically I just make pompoms with these fuckers:

they sell them at most craft stores, and there's a couple different types of em, but it doesn't really matter, you're really just looking for something that says pompom maker (or something along those lines) it's even possible to make em with a fork if you want !

but basically you want to make two pompoms of the same size for the head and body and then 4 much smaller ones that (depending on the size of your body) you can either make in just a smaller size or you can buy pre-made ones for the feet if your head/body is really small. you might want to trim them down a bit, maybe make the head more round or the body more long, that kinda thing.

Then for the face; for the eyes, you want two black felt circles that are roughly the same size as the feet, with smaller white felt circles glued on. feel free to trim either circle down smaller or cut out bigger ones if they just don't look right. For the mouth just trim down a piece of black yarn

Then for actually putting it together, first glue the face onto the head, it's easier imo. I prefer to use specifically hot glue simply cause I'm impatient and hot glue dries fast (I usually still end up burning my fingers anyways tho dhjsjs) but really any glue works, you just might need to hold the pieces together a bit longer. but you're gonna want to just map it all out before actual goin at it, just so the proportions look right. then glue the head on the body, and it will probably just flop all over the place, that's just how it is, im sorry. but then you figure out where you want the legs. for the legs I like to kinda make sure I can see the spot of the body I want the leg in, kinda spread the yarn apart where I'm gonna put it so that I know it's gonna go right where i want it. you don't have to do that, but I like to cause I don't trust myself enough to just get it right the first time. but then boom ! you've made yourself a little guy, congrats !!

if this is at all confusing please just lmk (via lichrally anything from another ask to a rb, idk as long as I can see it) and I can try to explain it better, I could probably find some pictures of the process or something if you'd like visuals, but yeah ! that's all , hope that was helpful !!

#my art #aethers dolls :]#also hey if you make one you should tag me in it or something so i can see #autism creature #tbh creature

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20dollarlolita · 3 years ago

Note

A bit of an unusual question, but I remember (or at least I think I do) that you've said fabric softener is bad for the fabric itself in a post several years ago. I've moved recently and the new place has such ridiculously hard water that my partner has started using fabric softener again and I sort of followed. I know it's bad for the environment but I just cannot remember why it was bad for the fabric itself. I still hand wash my main pieces but machine wash most of my blouses and socks/otks and am a bit worried about making some minor (read: terrible) mistake. :')

So, I did some research on fabric softener to answer this, and the short version is that you probably don't need the fabric softener unless you're in a case where you need fabric softener.

Handy, right?

So, fabric softener has two jobs. It needs to stop the fibers in the fabric from sticking to each other mechanically, and it needs to prevent static cling from making the fibers stick together.

When you wash your clothes, the fibers on the surface abrade and stick up. If you then take the garment out of the wash and let it air dry, those fibers stay in the stuck-upwards position, making the fabric feel rough and hard. It also allows the fabric to stick together like velcro. Fabric softener basically coats the fibers with a slippery substance and that forces the fibers back down. In countries where mechanical drying is more popular than air-drying, this isn't a huge factor, but it is for people who air-dry. This slippery factor also makes rougher fabrics like quilt calico behave more like higher-quality fabric, because the yarns in the fabric can slide past each other at the spots where they cross in the fabric.

The other job of fabric softener is to give the fabrics it washes anti-static properties. This is the main reason why people who use mechanical dryers use fabric softener, because dryers tend to make a lot of static. When you have less static in your clothing, it also makes the garment attract less dust, and your socks are less likely to go AWOL in your dryer.

There's some fabrics that fabric softener isn't nice to. Generally, this is because fabric softener stops the fabric from absorbing moisture. If you regularly wash towels or moisture-wicking fabric with fabric softener, it'll get into the pores of the fabric and stop it from being able to absorb water (that's a really oversimplified answer but the more accurate one is really complex). This is why your towels are really fluffy after you wash them with fabric softener, but also aren't able to dry things as well.

In addition, fabric softener works by leaving a residue on your fabric. While that residue is designed not to pick up dirt or weird smells or break down the fabric, it's still there, and it can keep building up the more you wash the garment. You can, after a while, start to feel it in the fabric. Generally, you don't need to use fabric softener on every single load, and doing a couple of washes without fabric softener can help get that buildup out.

You're going to find some people who say that white vinegar, or cider vinegar, is a good fabric softener. Vinegar will help remove hard water deposits, but it will also damage your fabric. There's this kind of idea that people have that the simpler the ingredients, the less damage it can do. This is just kind of really wrong as a general viewpoint, and I could talk about that for a while. But the short version is that dumping acid on your clothes is more damaging than dumping cationic compounds from fabric softner on your clothes, despite us working regularly with vinegar and not really doing that much with cationic compounds. We've had vinegar for thousands of years and still had to invent fabric softener, so there was probably a need for it. Yeah, your clothes do feel softer after washing with vinegar, but that's actually because the vinegar is damaging the fibers and making them less stiff. This will impact the longevity of your clothes. However, (diluted) vinegar will remove a lot of the mineral deposits that might be making your garment look dull. You just have to remember to use it INCREDIBLY sparingly.

Some people are going to tell you to use Dawn dish soap. This is because Dawn had the single most effective freaking advertisement campaign after the BP oil disaster about ten years ago and it's cemented itself in a lot of people's heads as this incredibly gentle and harmless product. Dish soap is a pretty harsh cleaner. It's notably bad for fabrics with fugitive dyes (dyes that don't stick to the fabric). There's so many better options for cleaning and fighting stains. Keep your dish soap in the kitchen for washing nonporous surfaces.

So you get this weird sort of system of things you need to balance. Washing your clothes will always damage them a bit. Not washing your clothes and letting the dirt and sweat stay in the fibers will damage them more. Washing with fabric softener will reduce damage in some ways and leave a residue in the fabric. Washing fabric in (diluted!) vinegar will reduce the mineral deposits from your water, and get the residue from the fabric softener out, but it will also damage the fibers of the garment and make it wear out faster. Washing your garments in plain soap and water will leave them stiff and not looking pretty.

There's no one-size situation for that. You're going to need to decide on a load-by-load basis what loads get fabric softener, which get nothing, and which get the occasional 1/4 cup of white vinegar dumped in the rinse cycle. While you're trying to figure out the right cycle, you can get some tea towels and throw the same tea towels in the laundry every time you wash your blouses and socks. Then, if you think it's time to do a softener load or to do a (diluted!!!!!) vinegar rinse, you can test run it on towels and see if it helps. If you run a test wash on a towel and it comes out exactly the same as before you washed it, it's probably not necessary to subject your clothes to the same treatment.

(In before anyone brings up reusable fabric softner dryer balls, I'm assuming that OP isn't throwing their lolita in the dryer, simply because I never throw my lolita in the dryer)

EDIT: further research has said that regularly putting vinegar in the washing machine itself can damage the seals in the machine. If you're putting it in your HE washer's dispenser, make sure to dilute it first, and still don't use very much at all.

#ask #anon #fabric softener #lolita laundry #long post

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holykillercake · 4 years ago

Text

Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got.

highlight: ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end!

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them. Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game.

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one.

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams.

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him.

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms.

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him.

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted.

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it.

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen.

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked.

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying.

Charming, loving, but still annoying.

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat.

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal.

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools.

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women.

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job.

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette.

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free.

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded.

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile.

Oh, how you love this cook.

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes.

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts.

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile.

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would.

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did.

You would always notice. And you had an idea why.

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple. The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess.

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created.

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy.

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨

¨It´s me!¨

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨

He looked back at you, confused. Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still.

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression.

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy.

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.

Did he get upset because of your lie?

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves.

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you.

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too.

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love.

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore.

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron.

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger.

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

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secondhand-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Heart Knot

A/N: this is in honor of the whole 30 minutes in which I knew how to knit because I was bored at a school function and forced my friend who brought an unfinished scarf with her to teach me lmao

Description: You did not have much happy memories regarding both knitting and your past crushes, but the boy that had your heart now just so happened to be a great knitter.

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x reader

Word count: 7827

Playlist:

Permanence//Bears In Trees

The Way You Look Tonight//Frank Sinatra

Hiding Tonight//Alex Turner

Kita Shinsuke’s first exposure to the art of knitting was through his grandmother, who taught her grandson the ways you could weave anything into something from doing each repetitive action properly and with care.

Something beautiful, something soft, something that could bring warmth to someone else on a harsh winter morning.

Winter in Hyogo could be rough, with inches and inches of snow blocking the road from down the mountains and into the towns. Kita Shinsuke spent his winter days away from school still waking up at the first ray of sunshine beaming through the paper window, his body glued down on the sweet comfort of his futon but still, he never overslept even as other kids his age would protest just for a few extra seconds in the warmth.

By the time he was done with the daily chores, it would already be way into the afternoon and his tiny hands, soaked in water to wet the towels, would be shaking under the cold. Grandma Yumie always brought out the kotatsu in times like this. “It is a luxury,” she said with a chuckle as her grandson watched in awe at how the tiny round table in the living room had now been transformed into a warm cave, shielding the winter cold out with the blanket draping down the sides, “a reward for those who worked hard in the cold.”

The days he spent with his grandmother was some of his fondest memories, to the point where years later, even as he was old enough to have his own house with paper windows and a round table perfect for being turned into a kotatsu, he still insisted that there weren’t any feeling better than laying under the warm blankets after a hard day at work with the tv playing and a cup of warm tea in his hand.

When he was small, very small, with his fingers still a bit clumsy and not quite able to aim at the little loops held together by the yarn, Kita would sit there and watched as grandma Yumie brought out the baskets and baskets of colourful yarn, all sorts of sizes and patterns, and let him pick which one she should use that day. The afternoon news was playing in the background, and baby Kita had his palms holding on the warm mug of tea that was far more diluted and with way more honey drizzled into it than the one sitting in front of the older woman. His golden eyes all round and focused on the needles going in and out of the woolen piece that grew longer and longer with each flick of her wrist.

He could not figure out what had happened in the quiet hours where he just stared, not yet worked out the way each loop and thread came together in holding everything together, but all he knew was that the scarfs grandma gave him were always the softest and warmest, and comes in all the colours that lighted up the roads of Hyogo that were covered in white.

Kita learnt how to knit when he was old enough to remember the sequence at which the needle thread through the yarn. One hook under the open loop, the other holding it still, before pulling it out and putting the neat knot in place. He started with the thickest needle and the yarn that showed every knot and pattern clearly, before slowly moving to thinner threads and fancier ways of knitting. Now, winter afternoon at the Kita household consisted of grandmother and grandson sitting side by side around the kotatsu, the afternoon programs playing softly at the background as the sounds of yarns brushing against each thread filled the air.

There had never been a single cast out of place in whatever he made, whether it be a scarf or a pair of socks or a little hat for the puppy next doors. Because knitting was about patience, the knowing that you just had to keep repeating and repeating to make sure everything holds together, until you eventually had something good in your hands. It was feeling the tiny bumps under your finger once you had the finished product laid out in front of you, knowing that you put time and care into every single one of them.

Grandma Yumie complimented her grandson on everything he had ever made, smiling until her eyes were just two thin curves as she watched the boy who wasn’t so tiny anymore with his golden eyes fixed on the needle going in and out of each loop, the knitted fabric growing longer with each flick of his wrist.

You could not knit to save a life.

But you had tried, you really did.

Once, when you were 12 and sitting in art class, your eyes beaming at the many balls of yarn your teacher had brought in.

“Today, we’re going to learn how to knit!” The teacher, with pins all over her apron and a book of stickers for the kids who did well poking out of its pocket, said as she placed the plastic box on the table, “By the end of class, you can all bring home something you made to give to your parents!”

You liked art class. It was fun being able to play around with crafts supplies under the disguise of early creativity development, and the things you brought home were always somewhere around the house.

You liked the way you could walk past something you had made and know that it was good enough to be put up, and liked the feeling of showing people the things you were proud of.

You picked out your colours carefully, imaging the way your father would have fitted a dark brown scarf into his work clothes or how mom could have used something in that lovely cream coloured yarn that was ignored by the other kids who went straight for the blues and yellows. You ended up with balls of grey in your arms as you made way back to your seat, thinking that it would go well with, well, everything.

You did not quite remember how you felt about the knitting process itself, all you knew was the excitement budding up in your chest as you just kept repeating and repeating, until the grey bundle of yarn got smaller and smaller.

You knew you could make something they would like, you just knew it.

The outcome of the hour and a half where you did nothing but fidget with yarn and needle was a subtly misformed scarf, a bit crooked at the edges because you forgot how to tie up the piece by the time it was long enough to be thrown around your shoulders and back. It wasn’t exactly the most intricate piece of knitwear, with small ends of the thick thread clumsily tugged back within the grids and some places missing a loop or two.

But still, it held together nicely with the softest texture, and you were proud of yourself.

Your parents took the gift graciously when you presented it to them like you were handing them something of the uttermost value, complimenting you on your hard work and thought as they felt the piece in their hand. You made your father promised to wear it out the next day and he complied with a grin as he threw the scarf around his neck.

Now that you looked back on it, it was definitely not something a proper adult would prefer to be seen in in the public since it was rather... wonky, to put it lightly.

But you were small, and you did not have any idea that even though you tried what you thought was your best, sometimes your best was just not enough.

Oh, the way you froze when your father handed the pile of loose yarn to you that was all bundled up with a worried stare, your throat tight while you used all the might in you to suppress the urge to let the tears just fall.

You soon learned that loose ends and hasty stitches meant that even the slightest tug would make the whole thing crumble, and hours of your dedication was not a match to even the most accidental pull at the widened hole where you tried to hide all the mistakes you made.

You told yourself you were never knitting ever again at age 11, with your face buried in your pillow at the late nights when you didn’t have to fear letting anyone know that you were crying over a few balls of yarn.

At age 15, you had your first real, serious crush, the kind that made the pitch of your voice go higher unconsciously and the corner of your lips tug up just at a passing thought. Your crush was popular, the type of boys that spoke each word loud and clear like they had endless energy. You thought he was dazzlingly good-looking, even though he still had a bit of the awkwardness of being mid-puberty left in the soft arc of his brows and loop-sided grin. He was the captain of the football team, always the first to dash out the classroom with a dusty ball in his arms during break. You spent a good amount of your recesses just looking out of the window with your elbows propping you up against the frame, pretending to listen to whatever your friends were saying when you were looking at him instead.

Occasionally, he would look up from the field as he jogged backwards, and your heart always skipped a bit at the possibility that maybe his gaze had stopped at you for even just a second.

Holiday season rolled around the corner as you looked out one morning to see dots of white landing on the glass, each speckle of the snowflake clearly visible as it plastered on the window, the one you always pretend to not be looking too longingly out of while doing exactly just that. The nearer your last day of school before winter break was, the more you felt the knot twisting and turning in your stomach at the thought of whether you should try and disguise all that feeling into what could be as simple as a normal holiday greeting, between normal classmates.

It was at a passing that you overheard your crush telling the group of people who were crowding around his table during one lunch break that he thought it was attractive when people hand out handmade gifts, earning a round of high-pitched responses from those who were smiling a bit too widely for it to be natural around him, each one of them claiming that then they would try to make something for him.

You shifted in your seat, pretending that you were just napping on your desk casually instead of pitifully eavesdropping on a conversation you both wished you were part of and was absolutely detested by.

You had long decided that you could not even pretend that you were crafty by any means, but sadly, you were also young and very much so head-over-heels in love with a boy who just announced to everyone who was, like you, trying hard to impress him that he basically preferred people who make their own presents.

So that was how you found your way back to the knitting needle that you had not touched since 4 years ago, after how every single trashy article in every single teen magazine that you, at age 15, read an unhealthy amount of, told you that there was no better present to give that would portray the amount of thought and care you were willing to put into something like a garment that was hand knitted with only the receiver in thought.

It should be quite clear that the editors of those articles were just too lazy to come up with something new and picked the safest, most conventional option to put in there, but you were too desperate to find something you too could do that you didn’t care.

You left school each day in complete darkness now that the sun was long gone in the middle of the day as the end of the year approached, and spent the little free time you had to yourself at home struggling to knit. Your hands were a lot more in control compared to the last time you knitted, but the lack of guidance in every step of the way as you relearnt how to knit all from the very beginning.

It was cold, and your fingers were already hurting from the chill, but it did not stop you from staying up each night trying to get the piece done before it was finally the holidays.

You had spent hours looking for tutorials only, always battling between the knowledge that your skill was not enough to replicate a good half of the videos you had bookmarked and thinking that the easy ones were too basic for you to gift to someone. You settled on a neck warmer, something you could imagine the boy you so pined after wearing while running on the court. And as you held the finished piece up under the light, you were proud of yourself for actually carrying through.

There were no messy threads in the scarf this time, and you were sure this was something that could at least be of use to whoever got it.

The day when you were supposed to gather the courage to hand out the present came sooner than you were ready for. You came back to school early that day, knowing that your crush was usually having morning practice at the hour and no one else would be around.

To your surprise, there was already another neatly wrapped box inside of his desk drawer by the time you got back. Its tag was hanging out of the tray rather deliberately, like a sly wink and a wave. Your chest tightened that someone was already one step ahead of you, but quickly fed yourself the narrative that it was actually better this way. This way, your gift would not stand out and seemed like it did not belong there.

It was just a scarf, but the little paper bag that you spent an embarrassingly long amount of time decorating the night before felt so heavy in your hands as you stared blankly at it, the nerves settling in your stomach as your throat tightened at the last minute conflict.

The loud footsteps that neared broke you out of your trance, and you threw the gift bag into your drawer before pretending like you were doing something else. You cursed inwardly when you saw that it was the last person you wished to see at this moment, a rare sentiment given how your eyes usually search for him in a crowd.

The group of boys didn’t seem to pay you much mind as they huffed, laughing at something you did not catch on to as they threw their bags down. You masked the pounding of your chest with a violent stroke of your highlighter against the notebook that opened up hastily in front of you when you heard them going near the table you had been eyeing all morning.

“Huh? What is this?”

You buried your nose in your book, but glanced at the few boys gathering around the desk from the corner of your eyes.

Your heart wrenched when you heard one of the boys snorted, before shoving the box into your crush’s chest. “It’s for you.”

The sharp tear made your scalp tingle, but you fought back the urge to sit up straighter in reflex.

Couldn’t let them know you were listening, couldn’t let them know you cared.

“Ah... it’s a scarf,” even in your most delusional mind, there was no way you could ignore the slight hint of annoyance at his voice.

“Hm, they said they made it themselves.”

The density of the air around you was a stark comparison to the boys’ howling and laughing that followed. The recipient of the gift only shoved the garment into the box roughly before plopping the lid back on.

“So?” one of his friends asked, snickering, “what are you going to do about it?”

The click of his tongue that followed twisted around your throat until all the blood rushed up to your face, burning and suffocating you. “Do you want it?”

“Hell no, why would I want a re-gift?” The other boy yelled with a holler, “why don’t you just keep it yourself

“Well, I can’t wear it, can I? It’s gonna give them the wrong idea.” The nonchalant way he so easily brushed off the undoubted hours and hours of effort whoever made the gift must have dedicated to the present that was now pushed to the very back of his drawer felt foreign to you. A pang of bitterness welled up in your mouth, running your tongue dry as your mind go blank.

“Besides, don’t you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is a bit too suffocating?”

The gift bag in your drawer remained to stay right where it was when other people started rushing into the room, when the class bell rang, when the same boy who you now realised wasn’t as nice as you thought he might be rushed out with the same smile he had on when he came in that morning.

You shoved it into your bag first thing when you were getting ready to leave, hoping that no one would catch on.

You were surprisingly serene when you tore into hours and hours of effort until it was just a bundle of yarn on the floor.

You were age 15, swearing that you were never doing crushes ever again and finally decided with determination that knitting was just not for you

But life has its ways of making you think twice about every promise you had made to yourself.

First in the form of a snowfall you had not expected, and then with a boy who was always prepared for the cold.

Waking up early in the mornings just to tread yourself through the chilly streets sucked, but having to rush out because the initial “5 minutes more” you told yourself as you pulled the futon over your head once more turned into you having to rush out the door with your coat barely even worn properly in the matter of a flutter of your eyes.

Your mouth was dry and your stomach empty from skipping past the breakfast that had already gone cold on the table by the time you passed it by. It wasn’t until you felt the pain tearing at your skin from the few bits of your body exposed to the specks of snow flowing down onto the back of your hand, so cold that it felt almost like a burn when the feeling settled, that you remembered the mittens you had also left at the side of your dresser.

Great, just wonderful.

Winter in Hyogo was forgiving on some days, brutal and mocking on the others. The grey clouds were thick and gloomy as you dashed down the road, pulling the collar of your jacket up desperately to shield your face from the wind that you were up against face first, slicing down like blades before you finally made the last turn into the comforting walls of your school building. Your face felt numb of any senses even as you brought your palm up to try and give it some warmth, only to hiss into your hand when the frosted tips of your fingers brushed against your skin.

The bell rang almost right on cue as you stepped into the classroom, letting out a sigh and salvaging in the temporary supply of warmth from your own breath. Your lips were so dry and so chapped from the cold, even just darting your tongue out to swipe over the rough edges had it almost tearing at the thin skin. You winced at the pain, which did not serve you anything other than making the ache worse.

You sighed as you sunk down on your chair, finally able to let your limbs go slack at your sides after being so tense all the way through your walk. The sudden release of the tension you had been holding on you resulted in a broken inhale as you tried to calm the beating dee under the many layers you were wearing, feeling as if you were suffocated in your core with the heat trapped in and only within the center of your body.

“Are you alright?”

Turning to your side was a struggle as you shrugged off the stiff coat you were wearing. You were sure you looked nothing short of ridiculous as the puffer jacket hung loosely around your arms, your arms extended awkwardly to hold it from sliding off the ground. Your state of being was a stark contrast to the boy who was sitting next to you, his back all straight and proper.

You did not really think much about Kita Shinsuke, even though he had been sitting next to you for almost half a year now. There was something distant about him, like he was in a whole world of his own while everyone else just circulated around. He was always polite, never slipped up, getting back earlier than most and arrived at each function punctually. Your image of him was that he was always paying attention in class while everyone else was drooling off, his voice loud but calm when he was suddenly called to read out whatever passage you were supposed to have read at home but obviously didn’t.

It was strange, you were almost distancing yourself from him despite physically being next to him at all times.

He just didn’t seem so real, didn’t feel very human to you.

“Are you alright?” Kita asked again, this time tilting his head a little seeing that you were looking ahead blankly instead of responding.

You snapped out of your trance, quickly yanking off your jacket to place it on your lap in what you hoped was a swift motion to save the embarrassment of acting like a socially numb idiot.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled, shoving your hands under your coat to try and warm up the fingers you still couldn’t feel under the fleece, “thank you for asking.” You added, almost like a second thought as you grew more and more uneased by his seemingly doubtful gaze.

Kita’s eyes went to your hair that was still not yet tidied up from being tangled up by the wind, the dots of water on your coat that was no doubt left from the snow, and your hands that were now rubbing together again and again under the coat according to his guess.

His brows furrowed at the way you were folding yourself smaller and smaller, pulling the heavy jacket that was about to slip off your lap up against your body desperately.

There was a rush of shiver to your spine at the way he pursed his lips together, and you gulped as subtly as you could while trying to maintain the smile on your face.

There was a speckle, a tiny bud of warmth setting off in your stomach when he turned around and slipped his hands into his jacket, hung neatly at the back of his chair unlike yours, and took out a small packet. It was a white fabric pocket but you could see the black powder inside from the thin fabric.

You did not react when he held his hand out, slender fingers holding on the hand warmer mid-air as he waited for you to take it from him. You blinked at the boy who you had never really looked at properly until now, and felt a strange twist in your stomach at the notice that there was a slight flush on his face from the cold, dusting over his cheeks and leading your gaze to his eyes that were looking at you patiently.

He must have thought that you were so strange, you grimaced to yourself when the pang of guilt rushed to your face and burning to the tip of your ears at the remembrance that you had assumed him to be the strange one when you were being so disrespectful right now.

You held out both hands in front of him, looking like a child when he dropped the little bag in your hand. Nothing could stop the sigh from slipping out of your lips when you felt the heat it was emitting, landing on your fingertips like coal in the snow and seeping into your skin.

The warmth travelled from your skin down to your veins, running slowly and slowly until it settled down as a fuzzy tingle in your chest at the thought that it was so warm because he had been the one keeping it in his pocket, likely trapping the heat within his palms when he was holding the warmer himself.

“Thank you Kita kun...” you said appreciatively, swallowing the whine that was threatening to come out with the last note of your voice when you felt your senses slowly returning to you.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and your heart skipped a beat when he leaned his chin on his palm and gave you a tiny smile, “you should keep it, my hands don’t get cold that easily and I brought mittens.”

You did not speak to him again that day as class started and he, like the good student you never were, put his attention back to things that were more worthwhile. But you could not help but listen carefully for the first time ever when he was once again called to read out the lengthy piece of literature you didn’t study, and feeling a burst of exciting, nerve-wracking warmth budding in your chest.

At age 15, you promised yourself you were not doing crushes over dumb teenage boys again. At age 17, you realised that the pang in your chest when Kita Shinsuke replied to your greeting each morning (one that you tried hard to make it sound as casual as one could get, if you may add) with a smile was the same as that when you imagined your old crushed looking up from the ball court to lock gazes with you.

But Kita was not a dumb teenage boy, he was nice and well-mannered and asked you if you were alright on a winter day. So you told yourself you did not exactly break your promise, even though there was a lingering fear at the knowing that there too was a time when you thought the boy who sneered at the carefully wrapped box on his desk was nice and beaming like the sun.

(You had, however, screamed into your pillow in frustration the day he told you they made him the captain of the volleyball team for the next year when you carefully suggested that he seemed happier than usual. “Captains,” you groaned into your make-shift punching bag, “why are they always captains?”)

Winter passed, and then it was spring. Spring was the time for a new start, but you were not excited about changes. You had been content with a simple “good morning” every day made possible by the convenience of your adjacent tables, but how were you supposed to conceal your yearning for a smile and a nonchalant word of care as nothing out of place if you had to go out your way just to even catch a glimpse at him?　

You had to force yourself, clamp your lips tight together to stop the pitiful squeal that was close to bursting out from the back of your throat when you saw the familiar kanji, the same one as the direction always pointing people forward and the brightest star hanging on the sky, at the “ki” column of the class list.

Your third and last year and still in the same class, this was a sign, this had got to be a sign.

The anticipation was hard to conceal as you paced down the hallway until stopping at the sign of “3-7″ above the door. The embarrassment immediately followed the initial rush of glee at the boy who was, as expected already there. He was sitting at the first seat at the row leaning by the wall and even though your heart died a little at the conflict that you could not slack in class with the whoever it was standing in front of the blackboard so close to you, you still walked closer to the table right behind his with carefully controlled steps.

“Good morning Kita kun,” you said, still fumbling to find a balanced tone between letting him know you were happy to see him but not too much, glad that you were in the same class but not in a creepy way, hoping that he also searched for your name the way you looked for his but not holding out too much for it.

your throat tightened when he smiled back at you, “Good morning, (y/l/n) san.”

“You are early,” you blurted out, praying that it wasn’t too sudden.

“Yes, I had to stop by the club room to prepare for the upcoming tryouts before coming back.” He had turned around to face you completely, and you searched for everything your brain could come up with to keep the conversation going.

“Oh right, you are the captain now,” you cursed yourself for stating something so obvious in your brain, absolutely loathing air-headed your own voice sounded in your head. You breathed in, mastering your courage to appear confident and charming, “I hope it’s alright if I sit here behind you?”

You were smiling, but your knuckles were hurting from how hard you had to grip at the handle of your bag just to hold yourself back from fidgeting. The chair was already half pulled-out, and you crouched down just slightly as you waited for a response.

You knew you were the one who asked, but what if he said no?

But he didn’t, and not even the fear of appearing like a fool in front of the boy you so wanted to impress could stop you from grinning ear to ear when he laughed. You didn’t think you had heard Kita laugh before. It was an addicting sound, crisp like bells and like the pink petals that were falling off the trees all around campus.

You knew at that moment you didn’t care if this crush was just as dumb as the last one, or that you might end up looking like a fool for going against what you had so sternly told yourself when you were 15.

Screw 15 year old you, they knew nothing.

“Of course.”

Then winter rolled by the corner, as an angry current sweeping the dried leaves off the road and the temperature dropping and dropping until you were taking out your heavy coat from the back of your closet again.

It was with great regret and exasperation that you found out, one year after starting to learn more about Kita Shinsuke, that he was brilliant and absolutely so passionate about knitting.

The way you had a whole storm brewing in your head over something as simple as getting back to your classroom after lunch break to see a very calm, serene Kita at his table, with a ball of yarn on his lap and two needles threading with each other in his hand, was an absolute joke. You had tried to form an interest in volleyball just to have more chances to talk to him, going as far as to sit through the hour long practices matches that Inarizaki always had with other schools at the far back corner of the gym just to have something to bring up in a passing the next day. But of all the things, of all the things this person who seemed to be good at everything liked, it has got to be the one thing that you associated with nothing but bad memories.

“What are you making?” you asked, holding back the screaming thoughts in your head as you slid down into your own seat and leaned forward.

The little glimmer of joy in his eyes was hard to miss, and you were not sure if you want to feel triumphant for finding a new excuse to talk to him or cry because you had not looked at a knitting needle in years.

“I’m knitting socks,” he said and held up the tunnel of knitted fabric dangling off his needles, “it’s almost Christmas, and I wanted to make something practical for my teammates.”

“Hm?” You nodded, urging him to go on as if your own scalp was not frying from the recoil of what happened the last few times you wanted to make something practical for someone.

“This is for Akagi from class 6,” he immediately added, thinking about how you might not know who Akagi from class 6 was, “he had been complaining about having cold feet at morning practices lately.”

(You did, in fact, know who Akagi from class 6 was, but decided to let him give you the information instead of exposing how much attention you paid to the Inarizaki Volleyball Club.)

Man, you had never wished you knew how to knit as much you do now.

“Can you teach me how to knit?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-

You froze at the words that went straight through your brain to your mouth and vocalised in the quiet classroom.

“There’s something I want to make,” you gulped, stumbling to force a smile onto your face, “for someone.”

Someone as in, well, him.

You had already braced yourself to chuckle it off when he said that he was busy, or just some sort of well-intended reasoning that would all point to the immediate conclusion in your head that you were just overstepping boundaries as no one but another classmate who just happened to sit near him for the past year.

But the screaming in your head stopped, leaving your world in absolute silence when he placed the ball of yarn onto his table and pulled another ball out from his bag.

“Sure.”

You did not notice, which was strange because you were usually the first to overthink on each of his miniatures, that Kita Shinsuke nearly dropped the needles in his hand when you quickly, in the middle of your inner panicking, suggested that there was someone you wanted to knit for.

He wavered for a brief moment, wondering if he really wanted to teach you how to knit for someone else, before feeling a sour guilt that he was being a bad friend by hesitating to help you when you asked.

He wondered who it was that you wanted to make something for, he thought to himself as he handed you the spare pair of needles he had.

Must be someone important to you.

So every day until you eventually go on break for Christmas and the new years, you would go back to your classroom early during lunch period to learn how to knit from Kita Shinsuke, who was coincidentally who the eventually finished piece that you hope you would finish was meant for.

You went into this with no thought other than to suck up on your own impulsiveness and just milked what had become of it as much as you could, trying to fish the opportunity of spending extra time with him. You were not even sure if you would actually give him the finished piece if there would be any, you were not sure if you were prepared to go down the progress of determination turned hesitation turned eventual heartbreak that last time you had to muster up any courage just to gift something to another person.

Even though this was all an excuse for you to talk to Kita, there was no denying that the 3 years in which you avoided knitting only made your hands even clumsier than before. He was always patient, always stopping his hands with whatever sock or hat or glove he was making to take a look at what would hopefully become an intact piece of knitwork dangling off of your needles.

“Let me see.”

The soft hum from his nasal every time you called for his assistant was enough to have you weak, and you were so glad that he put all his focus on helping you because then he wouldn’t notice you staring at him rather shamelessly.

On days when the weather was good, it was as if his eyes were the winter sun, the same one that was spilling in through the windows and casting a soft halo around him, all while his brows contorted in concentration over your work.

It turned out that Kita Shinsuke was great at teaching, and while much slower than him, you eventually managed to sit in comfort silent with him in the tender winter afternoons of Hyogo and let the sounds of thread pulling filled the air. You were trying but he was a natural, even though he claimed that it was just a direct result from years, a decade of practicing.

In the time you had struggled to focus on one piece, you had seen Kita worked on a multitude of things you were sure you should not even attempt to make. There was a nice thick pair of gloves for Ojiro, the trusty spiker who was feeling bothered by his dry hands from cold water. Another pair of gloves but this time fingerless because, to quote Kita, Suna Rintarou probably wouldn’t wear anything that kept him away from his lovely touch screen. You saw woollen hats twice but in different colours, and he had explained that he thought of making something different for the ruckus twin boys but figured they would just get into yet another fight over who gets what.

Crush aside, you wished you had a slither of his skills.

“I think anyone can be good at knitting,” he said, handing you back the row of maroon casts you had asked him to check up on with an approving nod. His fingertips just barely brushed against yours as he let go of the needles, sending shivers up your forearm that you were so glad was covered by your cardigan.

You laughed, brushing your finger at the few spots that you struggled to get right on the pattern, “I doubt.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” he said, pointing towards the casts that got neater and neater as you progressed visibly, “you are already getting better.”

You pursed your lips, toying with the unfinished hem.

You had learnt a long time ago that sometimes you tried your best, but the best was not always enough. Sometimes, the best would get you a huff and a complaint that your heart and soul was too heavy, too suffocating. Sometimes the more and more you put into something meant that you did not know where to put it anymore once you tore it apart after no longer having someone to give it too, but it was too much to shove back into the hole in your heart.

You wondered if your best or your “better” was enough this time.

“Kita kun.”

“Hm?” he hummed, like how he always did when you look up at him from your hands. But you did not look at him this time, twirling the loose end of the yarn in your index finger instead.

“Do you think getting something handknitted from someone you aren’t with is suffocating?”

Kita frowned at the sad smile that was on your lips. You were looking at what he assumed would be a scarf from the casting and the patterns, rubbing at the slightly crooked cable. Were you thinking of the person you want to give it to? Were you worried that they wouldn’t like it? He had made himself stop speculating who it was that made you get back early each day and struggle so clearly with something you didn’t seem to exactly enjoy just to make something thoughtful for them, but he couldn’t stop the bitterness from welling up that it was someone who made you worry over them finding you suffocating.

He wanted to tell you that anyone who thought so was not someone who deserved your time, but swallowed it down anyways.

“No,” he said, and you finally looked up at him, “I think it is rude to think that of someone who put effort into doing anything with me in mind.”

And there it was again, the same warmth that tingled until it was all you could feel. Like a hand warmer, like a simple hello in the mornings, like the winter sun that was shining on you.

Right.

You smiled, a genuine one this time.

Because Kita Shinsuke was not just some dumb crush, because he wasn’t like the boy who never really did look up to see you, because you were ok with breaking every single promise you had made to shield yourself off just for a chance with him.

He seemed confused at your sudden change of mood, but you only shook your head and picked up the knitting needles again.

“You’re right.”

To say that everyone was hyped for winter break was an understatement.

But you, you were just really nervous.

You greeted Kita when you came back in the morning as usual, feeling the nerve bundling up in your stomach already just from knowing that if this went badly, you could not bear it to pretend to still be his friend from then on. Classes did not pique your interest in the slightest, and the only time you even diverted your gaze upwards from the book you were staring at blankly was when Kita’s voice rang in the classroom, blocking the blackboard from your view as he stood up to answer some question you did not know the answer to.

He looked warm, you remarked to yourself as your eyes scanned through the grey vest he was wearing.

Did he make it himself? Maybe you should ask him for a tutorial later.

And then you remembered that it was the last day before break, and your knitting sessions with him was already over. Your scarf was finished, he even complimented you on it. (“I’m sure whoever got this will be very pleased,” he had said, and you were just praying to whatever entity you could think of that he would still think so when you give it to him) It wouldn’t make sense for you to go to him anymore, and it would be awkward for both of you if he knew that you were only learning how to knit to be around him.

Your hands were so cold, nearly in pain as you grip on the box that you had been hiding in your bag all day long. You backed out of giving it to him during lunch when no one else was around, deciding that you would rather not stare at his back for another few hours after basically exposing yourself. But the day was about to come to an end. The winter sun was always gone early, and the sky was lit up in shades of orange and red as students rushed home for the start of their break.

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him packing up his things after the end-of-class bell rang.

“Kita kun?”

“Yes?”

All you could hear was the beating in your ears and the hilt of what was a steady rhythm when he turned to look at you. His voice still made you melt, and heat spread on your face like the fiery cloud hanging on the sky from the setting sun.

Warm, bright, beautiful.

“This is for you,” you tried to stop your voice from shaking as you looked into his eyes, the same ones that widened when he saw the box on your extended hands, “thank you for helping me all through last year.”

You had to remind yourself to breath as Kita took the wrapped present. “Can I open it?” he asked, his hand hovering above the ribbon.

You tried to maintain the smile on your face.

“Of course.”

Kita knew the scarf that was sitting inside the box, he could point out which cast was his doing and which ones you had asked him for help even with his eyes closed. He had wondered about what you had done with it, whether the person who got it was worth your heart and soul.

He had wished, with sincerity, that it would go well for you but there was also a selfish part of him that pondered, contemplated how it might go if he told you he would love to have that scarf.

You grimaced when he didn’t say a word, before slowly closing up the box. You had prepared yourself for this outcome, but part of you still felt a familiar sting in your chest.

Until you saw him digging into his own bag and pulling out a tiny bag. You were still dazed as he handed it to you, his fingers holding onto the handle and a smile on his face as he waited for you to take it. You reached out with both palms, before the weight of it settled in your hand.

It was a pair of gloves, soft and sturdy in your hands without a single stitch out of place. Your finger brushed against the intricate patterns at the center before stopping at the elastic hem. You could not help but slid it on, gasping in awe at how it fit perfectly.

Kita was smiling at you, and he was throwing the end of the scarf to his back when you looked up at him. The one he had worn that morning when he made way back to school under the cold was shoved into his bag and replaced by the less well-made one you had given him.

But he didn’t care, he loved it.

“Should we go?” He asked, holding his own gloved-hand out, “They are closing the school soon.”

You finally got to be mesmerised by him without having to shy away, and the way his eyes were full of you could only be matched to the sun that was setting outside, rays of what would be the last of its shine until tomorrow reflecting off the snow.

Beautiful, soft, and had your heart all warm and gooey.

“Let’s go.” You replied, grinning ear to ear, before taking his hand.

And it was so, so warm.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #kita x reader #kita imagine #kita imagines

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batfoonery · 4 years ago

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Crafty Batkids

Literally. Just batkids doin' crafts. As someone who does..... way too many crafts to list here (I'll send a list if asked but just trust me) I feel like I've gotten a good feel for this.

Dick

My man grew up in a circus, regularly checking ropes and tensions....

Macrame. He's a pro at macrame. Maybe he doesn't do it often, but like. For his friends, he'll sometimes surprise them with lil gifts.

When any of his Titans buds move he makes them those fancy hanging macrame plant holders. Donna and Kori both love them, and have been known to fight over them during white elephant/dirty Santa type gift games.

Probably doesn't have the ability to sit still for long periods of time, so can't do anything that'll unravel if he puts it down. It takes him a long time to finish a project, so he really only buys materials as he starts a new one, and doesn't have any excess stuff lying around his apartment.

Jason

You cannot tell me he doesn't crochet to unwind. Like. Idk if he's any good at it, but he def angry crochets.

Probably has been working on one scarf for like five years

Never has consistent stitches

Likes touching all the yarns at the store

Probably just enjoys squishing the yarn in general tbh. It's slightly more satisfying than ever actually doing anything with the yarn.

Cass

One time Bruce took her to like. Silver Dollar City or somewhere else that had someone with a loom, and she was fascinated. She made him buy her a shawl and then made Tim put together a power point about why she should have a loom.

Bruce ended up caving and buying her one that's skinnier, for like table runners. It's great, because she's mostly fascinated with making gradients in her weaves.

She learned Swedish Weaving (it's a like an embroidery/weaving hybrid) so she could embellish her works.

Mostly gives them out as gifts. She gave one to Selina, who guards it possessively. Harley tried to borrow it once and about lost her fingers.

Probably also learned to make little tassles for the ends

Tim

Attention to detail? Obsession over the minutia? Oh. You know my boy is an epoxy resin artist.

Has a crafting station in his room that's meticulously organized. There's cubbies for pigments, flowers, glitters, bits of ribbons and strings, etc etc

Probably makes all kinds of thing tbh. Phone cases, trinkets, you name it. But pens are his favorites, because they're both simple and practical. There's like a whole army of pens that just... keeps growing in Titans Tower because he always forgets where he's put his.

None of his teammates realize he is the source of the pens. They (Kon, Cassie, Bart) just think the pens are an infestations and/or are pairing up and making baby pens. But Cassie and Bart love them bc ✨aesthetics✨

Probably has a tik tok or an insta where he posts videos of himself de-molding things to soothing lofi tracks. Literally just. All the vibes. It's gorgeous.

Steph

Also all the vibes. She is a bujo/stationary queen.

Her collection is much messier than Tim's, but has a surprising amount of overlap. Sometimes they borrow things from each other, and have collabed on their social accounts (he makes journal covers, she makes them into notebooks, he supplies her with pens, she uses them when making a weekly/monthly set up, etc)

Stickers and glitter everywhere

Probably sponsored.

Canonically draws cute little cartoons in the comics, they absolutely are a regular on her socials and in her bujos.

Duke

For some reason I don't peg him as being as craft-oriented as his closest-in-age sibs? He probably has less expensive coping mechanisms tbh

That being said I can see he would enjoy those stores where you go in and paint pottery and they kiln/glaze it for you? Like he isn't into sculpting it himself, but painting the little kitchenware pieces or statuettes is relaxing.

He paints mugs for all his sibs on their birthdays, and for Alfred.

Alfred probably has a whole army of custom mugs made for him by the kids, now that I'm thinking about it. Like half of them are from Duke, because he doesn't know what else to do with them. There are just so many because it's so simple.....

Kate Kane, Tatsu Yamashiro, and Jeff Pierce also all have mugs. Actually... Lowkey highkey I can see that Tatsu might have introduced Duke to this kind of stuff in the first place? I can see that she would enjoy something simple that you can do while trying to clear out your mind.

Damian

Well. Damian is a gifted artist, but this translates differently into actual crafts. It just does.

He's probably a good printmaker. Not only does this take advantage of his art skills and keen attention to details, but it's one of the oldest artforms still in practice today. Most printmakers develop their techniques by perfecting one of several forms of the art, which have been passed through generations, and have a really firm grip on art history. Those stories would appeal to Damian, in addition to the craft itself.

Damian is the most likely of his siblings to be able to sit still for prolonged periods of time and do a repetitive motion. In fact, it may actually be something he can enjoy if it means he can just zone out for a bit. So, he's probably actually decent at spinning yarn. If the sky is grey and rainy, he drags out a wheel and some pre-sorted rolags and spins yarn, exclusively for Cass, who then weaves it. He enjoys the progression of colors in the fibers as much as she does, and they bond over it.

The feeling of different fibers slipping through his fingers is also really soothing. Bad day? Time to spin some merino, because it slips like water through his touch. Need to feel grounded? Time to spin a cotton blend, because you have to be present enough not to chafe your hands on the rough fibers...

Probably also really good at embroidery, for the same reasons. Plus, it's really satisfying to feel and hear the pbt-psht, pbt-psht of the needle and thread pulling through the taut fabric.

Bruce

Obviously knows how to forge/metalwork. I like to imagine he's also dabbled in lost wax casting.

Probably has little trinkets he made when he was younger scattered around the house. Maybe he donated a few to charity auctions.

Has made rings/jewelry pieces. But doesn't talk about them. (One ring went to Selina, and a pair of earrings went to Talia)

Alfred

The all-talented, all-knowing. There's probably nothing he can't do. He already sews all their outfits. So I mean.

Sometimes it feels really good to have something to stab. I'm not saying he does needle felting, but I'm not saying he wouldn't.

Probably was the one who taught Bruce about lost wax, and the one who helps Damian research about printmakers.

Silently supplies all the kids with all the art things.

Has a chest in his room filled with all the things that he's been gifted with over the years. There's little uneven macrame hanging from when Dick was just getting the hang of it, lumpy scarves that are too short for anyone to realistically wear from Jason, linen sets made by Cass, various trinkets from Tim, handmade cards and notebooks from Steph, mugs from Duke, and old embroidery pieces from Damian in unevenly stained hoops.

#batfam #batfamily headcanons #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth

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milkweedman · 2 years ago

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hello! i bought my first ever fleece today and i was wondering if you have any good resources on how to process it? its a jacobs sheep if that factors into anything :-)

Hey congrats on your first fleece ! I don't have a ton of resources to point you towards unfortunately--in terms of fleece prep I'm entirely self taught. The good news is its pretty intuitive and the hard part is mostly getting the tools and having the time to actually do it. I'm happy to walk you through my usual process, which hopefully should help :)

Step 1: assess your fleece. This is an important step. Try to lay out your fleece--some will be rolled neatly and some will be a jumble--and start looking at it. Does it need to be washed ? Even fleeces that are sold as already washed still need another round if they are greasy, brittle, or sticky to the touch, or have lots of dirt, dust, dung, etc. Check your fleece over and determine if it needs to be washed, and start skirting it if necessary; skirting is pulling out the grossest bits--anything covered in dung tags, shot through with vegetable matter, or otherwise way too messy to be processed as is. This can be cleaned later and with special attention to removing all the muck, if you want to.

Step 2: wash your fleece, if necessary. This is grabbed from my comprehensive guide to drop spindling, near the end:

"To wash a fleece, you need a dedicated wool pot (as in, don’t cook in it again), a bit of dish soap, and some time. Put the fleece in--don’t crowd it, just work in batches if your pot can’t easily fit all of the fleece--add cold water and a squirt of dish soap, and let it cook on the stove for about 45 minutes, without a lid. Don’t let it boil--ideally it should be steaming but not quite simmering. You can use a dedicated wool spoon/tongs to gently and infrequently stir the wool. The water should get pretty gross. After 45 minutes, start the tap running (you need to rinse the wool in very hot water--if you let temperature shock happen, it could felt), drain the water, and rinse the fleece. Then repeat--filling up the pot with hot water now--until the water stops looking dirty at the end of the 45 minute cooking time. Rinse it one more time, and then let your wool dry, ideally on a clothesline but over a vent/spread out flat on a towel is fine too.

Yes, it really is that easy. If you’re worried about felting or otherwise ruining the entire fleece, you can always start by washing just a handful, so that way if you ruin it there’s not much waste. But I’ve washed at least a couple dozen fleeces that exact way, and I’ve never ruined one."

Step 3: grading or equalizing. Once it's cleaned and dry, this is a good time to grade your fleece--that is, separate it into the really nice soft wool, the medium wool, the coarser wool, etc. Just work slowly and methodically, and keep an eye out particularly for differences in crimp in the fleece--your finest bits of wool will be much crimpier and typically have shorter locks, whereas your coarse wool will have less crimp than the rest, and is often longer than the rest of the fleece. But if in doubt, just trust your hands and grade by softness.

You may also wish to separate the different colors--Jacob in particular, being a piebald breed, should be sorted by color unless you want a fully random marled effected in your finished yarn. With Jacob I usually sort into black, white, and gray/mixed (for when the color changes mid-lock, or is already somewhat jumbled up), although the specific colors depend of course on your particular fleece.

If you'd rather process the entire fleece into a single batch of yarn, and don't want noticeable grades in your yarn, you will want to equalize your fleece--that is, separate any pieces that are already tearing and make sure the different grades are well distributed in your wool basket. If you plan to comb your wool you'll likely want to avoid doing anything that destroys any lock structure or makes the fleece particularly messy--combing is quickest and most effective if youve got clean locks to start with--but if processing using any other method, feel free to go crazy tearing your wool into handfuls. It's important to note that even if you skip this step, it's unlikely that you'll end up with super noticeable differences inbetween sections of yarn (though it depends on the fleece and how not-equalized it is). But this step doesn't take long and prevents any coarse areas in your finished piece. I would still recommend sorting by color even if you intend to equalize the grades of wool.

Step 3: picking your tools. So, fiber prep tools are expensive, and most people don't have all of them.

Back when I only had hand cards, everything was processed on hand cards. If it was particularly VM-y, I used the No Fleece Left Behind (NFLB) method to individually clean the locks before carding them into rolags. It wasnt ideal for every fleece, but it did work. So, always use what you have.

But here's the possible options (I may be missing a few really esoteric ones like bowing, sorry), and what they do:

~~~Hand Carding: This produces rolags--fluffy rolls of wool that are a woolen prep and will want to turn into a woolen yarn. Hand cards are very fast and versatile--they can handle any staple length under 5 or 6 inches (15 cm) but past that they don't work very well. They also don't usually remove much vm, grit, second cuts, nepps, noils, etc. So if your fleece is very gross, hand cards won't clean it very much, unless you do the NFLB method.

~~~Hand Combing: This can be done on actual hand combs or on palm combs (literally just a cheap plastic hair comb--I have made a tutorial for how to process fiber on a palm comb here). Hand combing is usually much slower than hand carding, which is important to take into account. It also produces a very different prep--hand combed top--which spins into a worsted yarn. It is much more effective at removing vm and whatever else--this is the only way I clean gross fleeces now. It also works particularly well with longer stapled fleeces, but can be used on a fleece of any staple length (just with diminishing returns the shorter it gets).

~~~Flick Carding: These are the cheapest standard fleece prep tool--just a handle with a small tined cloth at the end, for flicking open single locks (or small handfuls of locks). This is a pretty effective way to remove VM and open up the fleece, and results in combed locks. However, combed locks can be tricky to spin evenly--I certainly always process them further into rolags or top--but it's absolutely doable. The speed of flick carding depends heavily on the individual fleece; particularly the amount of VM/second cuts/other debris and the strength of the structure of the lock.

~~~Drum Carding: I'm not speaking from experience here--if anyone who processes fleece on a drum carder wants to chime in, please feel free--but from what I've read this is a very fast method for processing fleece. In most cases you will want to open up the locks a little, and perhaps align them. You'll then feed them through the carder (multiple times, resulting in a more even prep each time) until you have a uniform batt. From there you can pull it into roving or spin strips off the batt. One additional advantage to drum carding is that because it processes much more fleece per batch than any of the methods above, it will also equalize the grades of your fleece--that way, you will have fewer coarse spots.

~~~Willowing: This is a very old and low tech way to open up a fleece and remove VM. I just tried it for this ask, and can confirm that it's pretty good at both of those, and also at least mildly amusing, if not outright fun. (Here's a short video I made demonstrating it, if you want to see !) You lay down a sheet or towel and put your fleece on it. Most fleeces will probably benefit from you pulling it apart with your hands somewhat, and breaking it into small chunks before starting. Then, using one or two willow sticks (or other bendy sticks), hit the wool repeatedly and quickly. This will cause it to fly up in the air, so you need to gather it back up every minute or so. This results in a bundle of fibers that are open and much cleaner, but not at all organized--so not really spinnable. You could refine it by hand picking or layer it and load it onto a distaff. Your next step in processing will determine whether you get a more woolen or worsted yarn--but as it is without further processing, willowing lends itself to irregular woolen yarns. That said, it does also equalize the grades of your fleece, if by no other method than jumbling it all up.

~~~Hand Picking: The no tools approach. This is a pretty good written guide to hand picking. Just open the locks sideways, pick the VM out by hand or manipulate the lock so that it falls out. Make sure to disrupt and smooth out any lock structure for a neater result. This too benefits from an additional step of processing afterwards--even if it's still by hand. I prefer to pull the wool in between my hands until I have a fistful of wool all facing the same general direction, then pre-draft it into a sliver. The pre-drafting cuts down a lot on irregularities, since you encounter those before you start spinning.

Step 4: processing the fiber. As discussed above, there's lots of different methods to process a fleece, and if you have a choice between a few of them, it's good to consider the following two points: 1) how time consuming each method is 2) the preparation that each method results in and how this will work with your fleece. With Jacob fleeces in particular, pretty much any method will result in a usable and attractive yarn, but only a few of them will remove the second cuts that seem endemic to Jacob fleeces (combing and maybe hand picking, if you're attentive), so other methods will result in a lumpy--albeit charming, in my opinion--yarn. Of course you can also pull second cuts off as you see them come up in hand cards or whatever else--but you'll never see all of them, and it's very slow work.

Whatever your method, have fun with it ! If it feels like a slow slog, try breaking it up into shorter sessions (I typically only comb wool for an hour or two at most, and usually under an hour when carding), or doing it with friends. Fleece processing by hand is slow work, much slower than spinning, but also requires a lot less attention than spinning does, so if you can't spin while reading or watching a movie, you may still be able to process fleece.

One thing to keep in mind is that it's also very messy--depending on how much VM is in your fleece, you may want to do it outside to avoid having to clean up your area later. Usually a woven blanket that's smooth and easy to clean is good enough though--just drape it over your lap, and whenever it gets covered in VM, go shake it off outside or into the trash. I would not recommend preparing fleece on your bed or any furniture that's hard to clean. I speak from experience here.

I also highly recommend The Fleece & Fiber Sourcebook (your library may have a copy--if not you can request that they buy one), it's a really good resource to have for anyone who works with fleeces. It has pictures of samples, info on many different breeds of sheep and other fiber animals, and tips on how to process or spin each breed. It's also just a great catalogue for finding what breeds I want to spin next.

Lastly, a few notes about what you can do with fleece that you can't do with already prepared wool.

From multicolored fleeces you can get different colors of yarn without needing to dye anything--great for colorwork, or adding details or edging. In this case it's important to sort your wool by color. Failure to sort a multicolored fleece by color can lead to yarns that all look pretty different from each other, and that don't work together particularly well.

You can also dye in the wool (e.g. dye as fleece) and get several different levels of saturation from one dyejob. This happens naturally without you needing to do anything--different parts of the fleece will accept dye in slightly different amounts, so you end up with a decent range of saturations. You can of course also dye one fleece many different colors with small batch dyeing, and mix them to expand your palette even further.

You can dip or kettle dye either the fleece or picked locks from the fleece, which leads to some great colors as well.

Hope this was helpful ! If you're trying out some new tools for the first time I'd recommend hitting up youtube for demonstrations, and remember that if one method doesn't work, just keep looking. Have fun with your Jacob fleece--they're a great starter breed but also just so fun because of the piebald aspect. One of my favorite breeds for sure.

#wool prep #fleece processing #tutorial #(kind of)#spinning #handspun yarn #long post

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doll-collecting-aerialist · 4 years ago

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Make Addy’s House With Me!!

So.. I made Addy a house. More like a room, but same difference. While this house isn’t completely modeled on Addy’s main house in her books (the house owned and managed by the Golden’s), as I wanted to use this as a photography set some of my other dolls (Kirsten, Kit), it still models after what a house could of looked like.

And because I like to talk, I will give you a not so concise tutorial on how I made this set. This project took about ten days. Sorry for no “keep reading,” I’m on mobile.

You’ll Need:

Thick Cardboard (I used three big boxes that were used to ship dolls)

A cereal box (or a similar weight of card board)

Card stock. I used an entire stack in the printing of all the different wood pieces. Printer paper tends to wrinkle and tear, it’s not ideal for making a photo set that you’ll eventually be putting doll furniture on.

Acrylic paint. I used two dark browns and a reddish brown.

Modge Podge. I used a matte all purpose modge podge and then a glossy paper modge podge. I definitely recommend using matte all purpose, it was much easier to work with and well.. not annoyingly shiny. I ended up using two full bottles, so you will need a lot.

Tacky glue. Make sure it dries CLEAR.

Two clear sheet protectors.

Duck tape. Or weird, off brand washi tape that your weird slavic grandma gave you.

Yarn.

A good pair of scissors. Or a craft knife if you’re fancy.

A sharp pencil to poke holes in things.

A color printer (or you can go to the store and buy paper that looks like wood, but that can get expensive)

Free stock photos and/or digital download scrap book papers. I got the floor of my set from as a digital download from an Etsy seller, and everything else was a free stock photo.

Paint brushes. You’ll need a large one for modge podge, and a couple smaller ones for the paint. Make sure you don’t like the large paint brush because it will get ruined. Even if you wash it.

A ruler.

A dark permanent marker

Something sharp to poke a hole into the tacky glue lid. And keep poking a hole in it because it WILL glue itself shut.

First off, you need the walls and floor, or else you will have no house. Unless you have really large boxes and are able to cut an entire wall from one card board piece, you will need to duck tape a couple pieces of cardboard together in order to make a wall. You’ll need two side walls, a floor and a back wall. I didn’t take measurements of my walls and floor because I was generally just trying to work with what cardboard I had.

Double check and make sure your walls are tall enough for your AG, preferably a couple inches higher. If you’re planning to put specific furniture into your set, make sure it fits in comfortably!! I checked the floor space with an AG bed I had on hand.

Make sure the walls are sturdy. I promise that you’re wasting less ducktape by wrapping it around a couple times, then you would be if you needed to fix your set everytime you wanted to use it. Make sure you can move it, and walk past it without it coming undone and dying.

One of my favorite things about my set is that I made it so it can fold in on itself. I do not have a lot of space for sets, so the fact that I can fold it up when I’m done is great (not to mention means that I can have more than one set). Now that you have your walls, it’s time to poke some holes with your sharp pencil.

This is me attaching the floor and the back wall. I marked out how many inches across the two pieces of cardboard were, and then from that I decided where to poke my holes. You can eyeball this, but that makes me anxious. Don’t poke your holes to close to the edge, or else the cardboard might rip (not fun). You’ll want to do the same with your two side walls, although you will be attaching the side walls to the back wall, not the floor.

After you poke all your holes, you’ll want to string the walls together with yarn or twine. Make sure it’s tight enough that the walls stand on their own without flopping, but loose enough so that it doesn’t tear the cardboard, and you can fold it up with ease. I left a generous amount of string left with each “hinge” in case I ever need to tinker with it, and I just tied each “hinge” with a double knotted bow.

Thus began my long relationship with modge podge. You’ll need to modge podge the wallpaper and flooring to the card board, which is very time consuming and boring, so make sure you have something to watch. Be sure what you’re using is of a heavier weight than printer paper, or it will wrinkle. And tear. And then you will cry. Don’t be overly concerned with white spots, or small places where the cardboard shows, because you can go over those later with paint.

**BE SURE YOUR PATTERNS LINE UP OR YOU WILL CRY**

Wow!! The modge podge is done!! That only took a week!! As you can see, I added some texture and touched things up with paint. (The popsicle sticks are not supposed to be there, long story)

Now for my other favorite part, the windows.

I wanted to be able to change the scene in my windows, so I used clear sheet protectors!! I cut it to be roughly 9in x 9in. Make sure you don’t accidentally glue the sheet protectors shut. That wouldn’t be fun. I made the window frame out of singular wood planks from the photo I used for the floor, and I glued each one to thick cardboard.

You’ll want to tacky glue the window frame together, and then to the wall. BE SURE NOT TO GLUE THE WINDOW SHUT WHILE DOING THIS!!!

For the background, I just found a scene on Google and glued to to a cereal box weight cardboard, before sliding it into the sheet protector.

That should lead you to having a really cool house for your dolls!! I can’t wait to fill this one with furniture. For reading (or scrolling past this long post) have a picture of my cat interfering:

#long post #american girl doll #ag #ag dolls #diy #dollblr #tutorial #dollhouse #addy Walker #pleasant company #dolls

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years ago

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WE want YOUR take on the ARTISTS OF THE APOCALYPSE SIGIL!

Hey there, friends, followers, and fans! In recent days, we've been hyping up the July 11th anniversary stream, as well as the impending launch of Artists of the Apocalypse! Because of that, you've probably seen THIS symbol a whole bunch.

This is my original mock-up for the Artists of the Apocalypse, or AoTA's, sigil. It's based off of the Followers of the Apocalypse's symbol, only the cross in the middle is generally white and/or made up of creative implements. My original mock-up was based on a tablet pen, a paint brush, and a pencil.

BUT! That's not the only way to make this symbol! See, the whole idea was that everyone could have their own take on it, and it would still be recognizable. For example...

@theartofblossoming made their own AoTA sigil in their game with found objects! This is a great take, and exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for when I first put the symbol together; that people would be able to remix it and put their own spin on it. Which leads us to why I'm making this post:

As of today, the submission box @artistsoftheapocalypse is OPEN, and I'd like to see y'alls take on our new symbol!

I'll be publishing submissions as they arrive, making them the very first posts on the new blog.

I'll also be showing the submissions off during the July 11th stream, to gush about what everyone has done with the design! :D

Feel free to make it in any way [ Digital, traditional, photography, yarn, thread, fabric, wood, clay, junked shit in your back yard, found objects in a Fallout game or in your house, hell you can make it in MINECRAFT and Loor will say 'FUCK YEA!' because that's awesome ] and out of any material you please. And here's a base if you'd like a foundation to work off of [ but you don't have to use it if you've got a different idea! ]:

PLEASE include your username in submissions, and how/what you made your sigil out of. Remember that ANY creative implements count!!

And... if you're looking for ideas, I've got a few under the cut :3

HEY LOOK AT ALL THESE CREATIVE TOOLS PEOPLE USE

Pens, pencils, markers

Charcoal, pastels, and crayons

Candle wax [block or already shaped into a candle]

Crochet hook, knitting needles, sewing needles of all shapes and sizes

Wood sticks and otherwise one may use to create architecture mockups

Scrap paper folded up or rolled [ YEAH! THE PAPER COUNTS! ]

A bolt of cloth

Clay shaping tools

Jewelers/smithy tools

Glue, adhesives, and caustics used in various model making work

Leather working tools

Musical instruments of all flavors, or simply a recognizable piece of it; such as the mallets for a xylophone or the bow of a violin

COOKING implements! DAMN RIGHT cooking is creative! You MAKE food!

And JESUS CHRIST SO MUCH MORE!

Basically, here's the limitus test; do people use this tool to MAKE something that IMPROVES life, but ISN'T necessarily REQUIRED to live? Then it probably works. GO NUTS MY FRIENDS! I am so excited to see what y'all come up with :D

#long post #Artists of the Apocalypse #Hype #Fallout #FO #Fallout 2 #Fo2 #Fallout 3 #Fo3 #Fallout New Vegas #FoNV #Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Followers of the Apocalypse

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 7

masterlist / playlist for reading

After we've arrived at the lowest point of this love triangle mess, it's now time to put the pieces back together. Eivor has to get a grip on things and the reader finally has to tell her how they feel.

CW for blood/open wounds, food mention

inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions

Promise

You were woken by movement behind you - Eivor had sat up and was cursing under her breath. As she stood up, you turned your head slightly to see what she was doing. The right side of her tunic was dark with dried blood.

With shaky fingers, she rolled up the fabric to reveal blood-soaked linen underwear and stained red skin. The tunic seemed to stick to the wound. Eivor pressed her lips together and ripped it off in one upward motion, letting out a small whine and immediately biting her knuckles to silence herself.

The gash on her hip started bleeding right away. It looked horrible. The flesh around it was purple from the impact and the wound was deep and gushing blood. You sprang up from the mattress and rushed toward her. Birna yelled in fright and protest and hid under the bed.

“Eivor, oh God! Why did you not say anything yesterday? This requires stitches!”

The warrior was breathing heavily, trying to keep her composure as blood already started pooling at her foot.

“I thought it would close overnight, but my belt and the fabric must have made it worse,” she said, sounding both desperate and confused. “What do I do now?”

You were already rummaging around for the needle and thread you had used to mend her clothes a few days ago and threw her a clean rag.

“Here, press this on the wound.” She caught it and leaned back against the table to keep her balance, then she folded the cloth and pressed it on her hip with both hands.

There were still a few last smoldering coals in the fireplace, so you added a few twigs and hung up the kettle with a small amount of water while you waited for the flames to come. The water started to boil quickly and you threw in the needle and yarn, then you tore up cloth into stripes and also put them into the water.

“Come here,” you ordered and Eivor stepped around the bed to stand next to you in front of the fireplace. Her face was ashen-pale. You took the kettle from the fire and fished out one of the fabric stripes with a spoon, letting it cool for a moment until you could touch it without burning the skin off your fingers.

You gently moved Eivor’s hands and the blood-drenched rag from the wound and pressed the hot fabric to her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, but stayed still and let you proceed. You washed the skin around the wound with the clean cloth and then went on to clean out the gash itself. It pained you to put Eivor through so much suffering, but you needed to prevent the wound from getting inflamed and foul.

Finally, you grabbed your sewing utensils and started closing up the wound. Eivor’s hands were now shaking vigorously and she buried her fingers in the furs on the bed trying not to move or cry out. You apologized over and over again while you tried to work as quickly as possible. When you were finished, you pressed the last hot rag on the wound and cleaned off the last of the blood.

Eivor let herself fall back on the bed and put an arm over her face, trying to regulate her breathing. You sat down next to her and stared at your bloody hands. It had all happened so quickly, you were questioning whether you were really awake yet.

When you turned to look at Eivor, she was staring at the ceiling, a single tear running from the corner of her eye into the intricate braids. You laid down next to her and followed her gaze to the wooden beams above you. Your hands were lying next to each other between you, not touching but so close you could feel her warmth.

“I owe you an apology,” Eivor began quietly, “but I am at a loss for words. Where can I even begin? I put you into a cage even though you were wounded and scared, and I only noticed you were hurt when it was almost too late. I let Randvi treat you like a traitor even though you only helped us. I forced myself on you last night and you had to carry me back here because I was too drunk to stand. And now you save me once again, even though I have done nothing to ever deserve it.”

You stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Should you tell her that you saw her with Randvi? She sighed.

“If you wish to part ways now, I understand. Sigurd will welcome you into the clan tonight. I will make sure to provide a roof over your head somewhere else in this village and you are free to do as you please.”

Her words were a dagger to your heart. She was setting you free, knowing how much pain she had caused you. But everything inside you was screaming at you to stay, to get closer, to stop speaking of separation, to only feel her lips on yours again. You felt your eyes well up. Carefully, you moved your hand in Eivor’s direction until your knuckles touched. The sensation made breathing harder, but it felt warm and consoling.

“However, if you stay despite everything I have done, I will be forever grateful to you. Everything feels wrong when I am without you, like thick fog limiting my vision and robbing me of all sense of direction. You guide me home.”

One of her fingers moved to brush over yours. Your heart was beating so loud that you were sure Eivor could hear it, too. You had to tell her. If this was your chance of resolving this mess, you had to tell her.

You pulled your hand away and turned to her, propping yourself up on an elbow.

“Eivor, there is something you need to know.”

Her eyes widened and you could see the fear behind them, fear of losing you forever.

“The night before the second raid, I went out looking for you.”

She understood immediately and closed her eyes, breathing out slowly as she waited for you to deliver the final blow.

Suddenly there were steps coming closer to your door and you could hear Valka’s voice singing a happy “Good Morning, Eivor! I brought food!”

Eivor shot up and pulled down her bloody tunic before rushing to the door, followed closely by a white ball of fur. You sat up as well.

Birna slipped out as soon as Eivor opened the door, then Valka stood in the room. She had brought a basket with bread and dried fruit as well as a bottle of a dark greenish liquid. She seemed surprised to see you here but greeted you just as enthusiastically.

“Seeing as you had to be carried to bed last night” - Eivor groaned and pressed her hands to her head - “I thought I’d come by to make sure you are still breathing. But first, would you mind telling me why you are drenched in blood? Did Y/N finally have enough of you?”

The healer gave you a sisterly smirk and placed the basket on the table. Before Eivor could even react, Valka had pulled up her tunic and let out a sound of surprise.

“Freya’s tears, what happened here?” She turned to you, still holding up the tunic. “Did you sew her up?”

You nodded and went to inspect the contents of her breakfast bundle before remarking that it probably would be best if she took another look at it to make sure it would heal well. Eivor was visibly annoyed at the fuss about her, but she did not dare to object. You popped some dried cherries into your mouth and lifted the green bottle against the light from the window.

“What is this?”

“Oh, the perfect brew for a morning after heavy drinking,” Valka explained, lifting the tunic over Eivor’s head. The warrior had bound her chest with strips of linen and now crossed her arms over her almost bare upper body. “Peppermint, ginger, and several bitter herbs. It tastes horrid, but it wakes you up and soothes an upset stomach.”

You threw Eivor a fresh tunic and she gave you a grateful nod, quickly pulling it over her body. Valka decided it was best if you joined her at her hut where she would prepare a fresh salve for the wound. Birna accompanied you on your way up the hill and, once inside, immediately chose Valka’s bed as her new throne.

Eivor bickered with her for a moment, then the cat moved over so Eivor could sit down next to her. You watched closely as Valka heated up oil and beeswax until they melted together, throwing in calendula and daisy petals, lavender, and buckhorn. The herbs soon started spreading their wonderful scent throughout the room and the oil slowly turned a greenish-yellow color. You helped filter the mixture through a clean cloth and caught it in a small clay pot, placing it on the windowsill to let it cool.

In the meantime, Valka had heated up water and thrown in a few cloves of crushed garlic. Now she placed another round of hot, wet fabric stripes on the wound and gently pressed them down with her palm. Eivor was clenching her jaw and clutching the blanket beneath her, but she endured the procedure without complaining.

Valka explained to you that garlic fought off illness and cleansed wounds even better than plain hot water, but she was happy with you for thinking of cleaning the wound before sewing it shut. She was also satisfied with your needlework on Eivor’s skin - the wound had stopped seeping and seemed to close up well.

As you both sat next to Eivor, waiting for the cloth on her hip to cool down, the silence grew thicker. Eivor kept her eyes closed the entire time, not showing any emotion. Valka was unusually late in recognizing that something was wrong. She gave you a questioning look and you just pressed your lips together and lightly shook your head.

After a while, the healer threw the wet rags into a basket and stood up to grab the salve from the window. She gently rubbed it into the bruised skin around the wound and handed the pot to you. Then she took a long bandage from a box and wrapped it around Eivor’s hips several times, fastening it with a knot.

“Here are two more bandages.” You took them from her. “Change the dressings twice a day and boil them after every use. Clean the wound and put the salve on before every new dressing. We should be able to remove the stitches in a few days so it can heal on its own.”

You helped Eivor up and thanked Valka for her assistance, promising to come by later so she could prepare you for your welcoming ceremony.

As you walked back to Eivor’s hut, she suddenly stopped. You turned around, raising your eyebrows at her.

“Y/N. I have been thinking about what you said. You saw me and Randvi, is that right?”

You nodded, feeling your throat close up.

“There is no excuse for what I did. I betrayed my brother and I turned from you after drawing you closer for days. Randvi and I were together for some time, but I ended it a while ago. She still wanted me and she found me at the right moment last night. All I can say for myself is that I was drunk, so drunk I could not think or feel anything anymore. I was lost, I was looking for love and I thought I could not place that burden on you, so I grasped my chance when Randvi came after me.”

She took a deep breath, holding your gaze.

“I should have never kissed Randvi, not the first time and not the last time. I was weak and astray, I still am. I often drink to find joy, yet I only find misery every time. I know that I should have come to my senses much earlier, I should have told you how I felt and I should have never kissed you without asking what you wanted.”

Her outburst shocked you; she had never been this honest and open with you. You could see she was hurt and ashamed, trying to save whatever still was left between you. You reached out a hand and she caught it between hers, her eyes full of fear and pleading.

“I can never make up for all the pain I have caused you. But if you choose to stay, if you choose to walk through that door with me and continue to be by my side, I swear to you by everything that is dear to me that I will never betray you, I will never lie to you and I will do everything in my power to make this work.”

She squeezed your hand with shaky fingers, her voice cracking at the last words. Your insides were in turmoil, you were completely overwhelmed with everything that had happened. But there, somewhere inside you, a tiny spark lit up. The smallest flame licked around the coals at the bottom of your chest. It was hope that had returned to you.

You knew that Eivor meant every word she had said. She would be lost without you, that much you knew already. You placed your free hand on top of hers and took a step closer.

“My wolf-kissed lady. It is true that you have caused me a great deal of pain. The last few days there was so much resentment inside of me. But we cannot choose who we love and we all lose our way sometimes. If you will let me, I would like to pull you back on a new path, one destined for us both. That path requires sacrifice, hard work, patience, and vigor. At your side, I am willing to try.”

Eivor pulled you to her and you wrapped your arms around her, careful not to press your body to her wounded hip. She stayed stiff for a moment, then she let out a relieved sigh and held you tightly, pressing her cheek to the top of your head and mumbling foreign words into your hair. Something brushed against your shin and you looked down to find Birna wedged between you, meowing for attention.

You smiled at Eivor through your tears and she picked up the cat, holding her to her chest and gently rocking her side to side like a newborn. The three of you made your way down to the cottage and Eivor opened the door for you, gently lowering Birna onto the bed. You closed it behind you and leaned against the hard wood.

Eivor stood a few feet from you, just a little bit further than an arm’s length away. There was an awkward silence as neither of you knew what to say, then you decided to relieve the tension. You sat down on the wooden trunk.

“I do not know how fast we will heal. But I don’t want to make you suffer, I believe you have put enough blame and hate on yourself already.” You looked down at your hands, rubbing them together nervously. “I know how you feel about me. I have felt the same way for some time. The things I saw the night before made it impossible for me to enjoy our kiss last night and I don’t think I could do so just yet. What I need is for you to prove to me that you mean it, show me that you are no longer interested in Randvi and that you really want us to be together. Once I know I can count on you and that there is nothing left standing between us, I will gladly find my way into your arms again.”

A weight was lifted off of you, now that you had finally lent voice to all your tumultuous thoughts and the feelings that had been waiting to spring free from your chest. Eivor stepped closer to you and took your hands in hers again. Her eyes were clear now and she was standing upright, no longer carrying secrets and guilt in front of you.

“I devote myself to you, little bird.” She shook her head and huffed. “Who am I to call you little, when you have shown such courage and grace? I am the one who is small before you.” She suddenly chuckled. “Someone once called me a lovely dove. I was offended at the time, thinking she was mocking me. But is there a bird more devoted, more graceful and exquisite?”

Eivor smiled down at you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I promise that I will do right by you, sweet Y/N, my delicate dove.” Her face was so close now that you could see the tiny hairs on her cheeks and the depths of her blue eyes. Her lips were almost touching yours. She was beautiful. You stopped breathing and closed your eyes.

The next thing you felt was her lips on the back of your hand and when you opened your eyes again, Eivor was still looking at you, kissing your knuckles one by one. Then she took a step back and nodded, determination visible on her face. She would do everything she could to prove herself worthy to you.

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