#Purl is a knitting term if you didn’t know

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Purls for my love - Miguel O’Hara x reader

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, Miguel struggling to knit. Miguel still implied to be rich and to enjoy spoiling his partner. (going say they’re engaged by now) Reader is not pregnant but Miguel kinda wants her to be soon/one day. Very domestic, very fluffy.

This is a loosely connected sequel to Sew cute, and this idea came from @reverieblondie in the comments of that post. I’ve been wanting to write this since their comment! But I’ve only just now managed to-

You sneak up behind Miguel, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but feel a bit shocked when you find Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles, a skein of soft light gray yarn sitting in his lap and a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

You grin, standing up from your desk and happily checking over the seams of the skirt you had just finished: a simple ankle length circle skirt- flowy and pretty with a thick waist band that you knew would cinch your waist nicely. It had turned out nice, you already had most of the fabric you needed, and the project had given you a convenient excuse to try out the rolled hem presser foot Miguel had bought for you a few weeks ago. You had been meaning to add some more formal pieces to your wardrobe recently, and this skirt was a simple piece- hardly even needed a pattern- that you figured you could dress up or down easily depending on the occasion.

You poked your head out of your sewing room, grinning when you saw Miguel’s state of unawareness. He’s sitting on the couch and staring intently downwards at his phone or laptop- likely sorting out some ill-timed work issue. You bundle up the skirt and hold it tight against your chest, unable to stifle a quiet laugh as you run behind the couch- making a beeline for the stairs.

You’re sure Miguel heard you. He must have- with the way your bare feet thump loudly against the hardwood floors as you run. But he doesn’t call out for you or even look up from his phone.

You worry about it for a moment- Miguel was always quick to spot you trying to be sneaky. It was almost like he’d notice you faster when you tried to sneak up behind him or surprise him with something.

Miguel found it funny to tease you when you were trying to be sneaky. He wouldn’t try to figure out what you were planning- or at least, wouldn’t tell you if he did find out- but you could always expect to hear Miguel’s amused, rumbling laugh and some mild teasing over your failed attempts at subtlety.

He was probably just focused on dealing with a work thing- and you push his silence to the back of your mind as you continue up the stairs, going into your and Miguel’s shared bedroom and locking the door behind you.

You quickly start kicking off your pants- stumbling over the fabric in your haste and nearly falling flat on your rear. After untangling the pants from your feet- opting to leave them out for you to change back into later- you step into the skirt and pull it up.

The waistband sits perfectly at your waist- drawing in the otherwise loose and flowy fabric in a way that emphasizes your curves. You switch out the shirt you’d been wearing around the house for a simple loose white blouse, and when you get it all tucked in and situated you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you do a little twirl.

The fabric flutters prettily around you as your spin comes to a stop- settling as you smooth it out and look up to the mirror. It really does look nice.

You wet your hands in the bathroom sink- running them through your hair to smooth down any frizziness. Once you’re satisfied with your results, you smile wide and clamber down the stairs- excited to show Miguel your new skirt.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, but pause when you notice Miguel still engrossed in his phone with a rather frustrated look on his face. You walk up behind him, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but be a bit shocked when you realize it’s not his phone or even laptop in his lap.

Instead, you find a skein of soft light gray yarn and Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles- a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

Miguel groans and runs a hand through his hair. “¡No mames! ¿Por qué es tan difícil?” He growls, dropping the knitting needles and leaning back against the couch- flinching when the back of his head fell on your arm where it rested along the back of the couch. He looked back at you, the remnants of a startle on his face as he reached a hand back to brush a wayward strand of hair out of your face. “I didn’t see you there, love. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You nod, not really processing his words- instead focusing on the absolute mess of yarn in Miguel’s lap that you think is supposed to be knitting.

“Miguel… what are you doing?” You ask, your brow furrowed.

You’re a bit confused, frankly. Before this, Miguel had never shown any interest in doing any sewing, knitting, or needlework. Unless, of course, throwing money at patterns and fabrics he wanted to see you use and leaving them stacked by your sewing machine as a silent way to say “I want to see you in this” counted as sewing. (You weren’t complaining- he never chose anything horribly extravagant or labor intensive, and the way he’d puff his chest in pride and hold you close constantly anytime you wore something you made outside the house filled you with a warm fuzzy feeling that practically washed all your worries away… although you do currently have a bunch of baby clothes patterns from him that you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do with, considering you aren’t even pregnant). But, in general, Miguel had just always seemed like he preferred watching you sew over trying to do any projects of his own.

Miguel sighed, and you were pulled out of your thoughts as he nudged his open laptop towards you, watching your face with apprehension.

The laptop has a knitting guide pulled up. You squint at the small print, leaning closer over the back of the couch until your feet come off the ground, then picking them up and holding them against your rear as you balance on a part of the couch you probably shouldn’t be putting your full weight on. One of your arms is clinging tightly to the cushion, keeping you from sliding backwards as you stretch your other arm to reach the trackpad of Miguel’s laptop.

You start to scroll to the top of the web page- at least until Miguel pulls the laptop away from you, setting it on the ottoman before pushing the knitting stuff to the side and pulling you the rest of the way over the couch with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not good for the furniture, and you could get hurt.” He says, looking down at you with his best attempt at a stern expression.

You huff, rolling your eyes and making a bit of a show of pouting (because you’re not going to hurt yourself, and the couch had a metal frame, it would be fine! But mostly because Miguel’s scolding reminds you of being told to not do the same thing by your parents). But it’s quickly forgotten once you get the computer back into your lap and scroll to the top of the webpage.

It’s a very simple tutorial over knitting hats, but what catches your attention is the very prominent note of “including child and infant sizing”. Before you can say anything, Miguel quickly buts in- speaking a bit hurriedly. “For a coworker- she’s expecting. The office is having a baby shower tomorrow… her kid’s due in December, so- um- baby hats.”

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down at the mess of a knitting project in Miguel’s lap and scooting closer to him. “You could’ve asked me for help, you know.”

Miguel turns to you, his tone questioning. “You know how to knit?”

“I’ve dabbled. I know enough to be able to help you with this- but only if you want me too, of course.” You say, shrugging as you take the needles and work attached to them and starting to look over the stitches.

“Yes. Please.” Miguel replies, immediately leaning closer to you and watching as you go over the stitches- ready for any advice you’d be able to give him.

You look between the rows of stitches and the pictures on the website, frowning as you spot a rather immediate issue. You turn to Miguel, holding up the work and giving him a questioning look. “Miguel, did you mean to do a garter stitch here? The pattern you’re using calls for stockinette.”

Miguel’s face freezes, then falls, and he lets out a deep sigh dropping his head on to your shoulder defeatedly. “I give up.”

You frown, nudging Miguel. “You said the baby showers in a couple days?”

Miguel grumbles, snaking his hands around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll just pick up a gift card on my way to work.”

“Miguel- don’t just give up- this was a good start” You say, trying to get him out of his mope, only to be cut off by a tight squeeze of your waist and Miguel nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck as he grumbles. “Nope. I give up.”

You frown, nudging him again and giving him a worried look- a bit of guilt building in your chest at the thought of your words being the reason Miguel gives up on his project. “Why are you so discouraged all of a sudden?”

“It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been trying to do this for four hours- I’m frustrated and tired and confused- and I’ve missed you.” Miguel says, smushing his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You ruffle Miguel’s hair, wrapping one of your arms around him and giving him a hug of your own. “Sorry… I bet me coming out here and telling you that you may have been using the wrong stitch the entire time wasn’t very helpful.”

Miguel shrugs, looking defeated and taking his face out of your neck. Instead, he pulls you closer, fitting you into his lap like he was your suit of armor against the world. “Don’t feel too bad, I’d pretty much gotten too frustrated by that point to make any more progress.”

You squirm in his arms, tilting your head backwards and looking up at him expectantly.

“Let me try and help you? Please?”

Miguel smiles softly, the tension pent up from struggling all afternoon with this project melting out of him at your request. “If you want, love. I’ll try, but only because it’s you.”

You grin wildly, sitting up and grabbing the knitting needles and yarn as you squirm in Miguel’s lap, getting yourself comfortable. You take the small, oddly shaped and slightly butchered set of stitches off the needles, then pulling at the working strand of yarn still connected to the skein and unraveling the rows of stitches.

You wind the yarn loosely around the skein, just to keep it out of you and Miguel’s way before turning back to him, still grinning.

“Ready?” You ask, placing the needles and length of yarn into Miguel’s hands. “Ready” Miguel says, his face brightened by a happy, loving smile.

“Do you know what casting on means?” You can’t help the bubbly boost in confidence that comes with seeing Miguel smile like that, especially given how down he’d seemed before. Knowing that he was happy to be doing this, and not just going along with you for your sake made you feel a bit lighter and keeps you comfortable and relaxed in his arms as you start with your instructions.

Miguel huffs lightly- a bit of pride in his voice as he starts working the yarn around one of the needles. “Actually, I do know what that one means. It’s how you start, right?”

“Yep! Just cast on a couple of loops and do one row of knit stitches.” You say, watching closely as Miguel casts on, wanting to catch any mistakes or slips of the yarn before they cause an issue or result in a weird looking stitch later.

To your pleasant surprise, Miguel’s knit stitches are… good. Not perfect, but aside from the occasional reminder to come from the correct side, he does the row completely on his own. Once he finishes, he looks down at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Those are really good, Mig. I told you that you shouldn’t give up!” You tease, poking at his bicep before leaning forward and taking his hands as they hold the knitting needles, placing your hands over his in order to guide him through the first couple purls.

“That’s a knit stitch, it’s what you’ve been doing the whole time. Doing a section with only knit stitches gets you a garter stitched knit.” You pause, moving Miguel’s hands how you want them before continuing. “But there’s also the purl stitch- which is just a knit stitch but…” you trail off as you- slightly clumsily- guide Miguel into doing a purl stitch. “But backwards! And a stockinette stitch is just where you do one row knit, one row purled, another row knit, another purled- etcetera, etcetera.”

You pause, taking a deep breath before looking over to gauge Miguel’s expression. He looks a bit lost- his eyes narrowed and jaw set as he stares intensely at the purl stitch you just guided him in doing- so you take his hands again, doing the next stitch in the row and making sure to go slow so Miguel can see what you’re doing.

“See? Just a knit stitch in reverse.”

Miguel nods, slowly starting to do the third purl stitch on his own.

“Yeah! Yeah, just like that! Once you’ve got this down, I can go get my circular needles and you can start practicing knitting in the round!” You say, excitedly cheering him on as he keeps working through the row.

Miguel is quiet when he’s focused- and the two of you quickly fall into a rhythm of him working silently, and you pointing out whenever you catch him coming in from the wrong direction or notice his stitches getting a bit too tight or loose. You find yourself not minding the silence, content to simply guide his knitting and enjoy the warmth of his lap as he sits cross legged and hunched over you on the couch, his chin resting on your shoulder as he works.

It doesn't take long for you to start drifting off. It’s not that late, only about 9:30. But still late enough for it to be dark outside. Miguel’s doing so well at this point that you hardly even have to watch his stitches for slip ups, and sitting in Miguel’s lap means being subjected to how he practically radiates warmth- a blessing in the winter and curse in the summer. The combination of warmth, the absence of sunlight, and Miguel’s lack of need for assistance leaves you drifting through various levels of awakeness.

At one point, you close your eyes- promising to yourself that you’re only resting them and that you’ll open them right back up in just a second- only to startle awake at being lifted off the couch.

“M-Miguel? You’re done? Sorry, ‘m awake.” You mutter, still mostly asleep as you squirm in his arms.

Miguel has one arm under your knees and the other under your back, holding you close to his chest as he walks the two of you towards the stairs. When you start to wake up, the arm supporting your back tightens, keeping you from wiggling too much, and Miguel leans his head down, murmuring sweetly to you.

“Vuélvete a dormir, amor. I’m just taking you to bed, no need to wake up.” He says, starting to climb the stairs.

Miguel’s words have the opposite of the intended effect, and you merely wiggle and whine more.

“Noooo- We gotta’ finish this! I just gotta get my circle needles!”

Miguel pauses, looking down at you with an amused yet adoring smirk. “Circle needles?

You nod hazily. “Mhm. Circular needles- for knitting hats ‘n stuff. We gotta finish- you said you only have a couple’a days.” You say, still only really half awake- at best.

“And stuff?” Miguel asks with a soft chuckle- clearly very entertained by your half asleep ramblings.

“….yeah.” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut as you curl towards Miguel- who smiles to himself before once again starting to climb the stairs, pressing a soothing kiss to your forehead. “I have more than one day, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you keep yourself up all night trying to have us finish this. We can work on it more tomorrow.”

“But-“

“Nope. Time for bed. No more knitting.” Miguel says sternly, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing the half open bedroom door fully open.

Taking you to your side of the bed, Miguel steps over your discarded pants and shirt from when you changed earlier, laughing as he easily stepped over the tripping hazards and lakes you down on the bed. “Are these from when you changed into this skirt you wanted to show me? I never got a chance to tell you how much I like it, it’s very pretty, love.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you out of your clothes and into pajamas.

Even half asleep, you can’t help the gooey mushy feeling buzzing in your chest at Miguel’s praise, (and the rush of affection that runs through you as you realize that he noticed your new skirt) but even that’s not quite enough to fully distract you from your insistence on staying up.

“I’m not tired- I still wanna help…” You mutter, automatically rolling towards and curling up beside Miguel when you feel the mattress dip as he climbs into bed beside you.

You quickly find yourself held tight by Miguel- his hand stroking your hair as he reassures you. “You were very helpful. You’re my amazing girl- who’s sweet and somehow amazing at everything to do with fabric and needles. I know you fell asleep towards the end and didn’t see, but I did a lot of rows- lots of practice, got my stitches looking good and everything. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without you.”

Miguel’s words send what you’re sure is a dopey smile to your face. “Can we do more tomorrow?” You ask, yawning wide and pulling your knees up so you’re curled against Miguel’s chest. “It was fun.”

Miguel smiles, running his hand through your hair lovingly before turning the bedside light off. “Of course, love. I enjoyed it too. But it’s time for you to get some sleep, okay?”

[sophiexwrites]

A Gift from the Ghost King

Inspired by this awesome headcanon from @give-nico-a-gun, thanks a ton for the inspo! It’s come to be a long-ish one, 2.2k words.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Christianity and needles, but not in the medical context... it’s really just harmless and sweet.

Setting: General Riordanverse/PJOVerse with canon/established Solangelo.

Mentioned couples Christmas sweaters from the shop (link).

Note: because most people recognise American-English more than normal English, I’ve decided to go American this time, like dropping the u when I have to and using ‘sweater’ instead of jumper so that no-one gets confused (fingers crossed I do it properly).

Nico and Will, for all their opposites, had one major thing in common: they were raised Christian. Neither were quite sure why, since their mothers were well aware of the Greek pantheon of gods rather than a monotheistic one, but they supposed their childhood communities wouldn’t have taken sweetly to the change. 

Which meant the emo teen wasn’t focusing on Halloween this October, but on Christmas. Already. What do you get someone who claims to have it all? 

Talking to his friends didn’t help much. Most of them suggested medical equipment or a simple day off; there were even a few jokes about sunscreen that Nico didn’t quite understand. Those of them who knew Will better said they were buying him new arrows, notebooks or trinkets to fit his sunny-surfer-dude aesthetic - those were great ideas but Nico couldn’t copy them. Will knew him well enough to tell whether it was Nico’s idea or not. The pale teen scowled, wondering why he even asked. He was completely stumped. 

Until early November, that is, when Will began to drop hints. Nico only realised it when when his boyfriend convinced him into a store just to look at their collection of couples Christmas sweaters, covered with sickeningly sweet messages and nicknames.

"Aww. look Neeks - this one says ‘Don't go bacon my heart’!" Will laughed a laugh that turned Nico's cheeks to bright red, pointing at the sweater closest to them. It was attached to another one, reading ‘I couldn’t if I fried’, along with a drawing of a fried egg reaching out toward the other’s bacon.

The hints came a few more times before Nico swallowed his pride and decided to learn how to make one from scratch. Why DIY? Because everything Will did for Nico was done himself: from writing and playing his own music (nevermind how Will’s voice was definitely not winning X-Factor material), to the fake Mythomagic set full of realistic depictions of the gods, or the admittedly adorable summertime picnics with more food and baked goods than Nico could ever eat. Nico felt it was time to return the favor, and step one was learning how to knit.

It started clumsy and full of holes. Nico seemed to have a talent for dropping stitches. The section he was working on started too tight, then so loose that it was almost falling apart. After two weeks of constant secret practice, however, along with more YouTube tutorials and undone rows than he was willing to admit, Nico made something basically shaped like clothing. 

But it was just regular, boring clothing. Of course, Nico knew Will would be overjoyed at just that, but this was the first Christmas the couple planned to spend together, at camp. It was time to go big or go home.

Long story short, Nico swallowed his pride again: this time, to ask his step-mother how to embroider. He was met with suspicious glances and wary questions before Persephone began cooing in delight.

“Oh, that’s the cutest thing! Who knew you could be so soft?” She giggled, already rushing around for threads, test fabrics and needles. “Though I suppose you take after your father, he’s secretly a big softie, y’know - now, are we doing patches, appliques, or diving in the deep end and sewing right onto the yarn?” Nico had a rule not to dive into anything, but with Christmas soon approaching he had to learn fast. Somehow, too, he had to keep it a secret from Will. By December 10th, he’d pretended the wide-eyed needles poking out of his cabin floorboards were totally a prank from Cecile, and Hazel definitely left behind the scrap of paper filled with wobbly cursive last time she visited... Will simply hadn’t noticed. Nico was just glad his boyfriend didn’t have time to read what was on the paper before he snatched it away; that would have ruined it all.

Christmas came quickly, fronted by sleepless nights of embroidery and fingers full of pinpricks for Nico. But he was glad to have it done by Christmas Eve, all wrapped and stashed under the black tree in the Hades Cabin. Usually, he would be spending the night alone, but tonight a warm Will-shaped bundle of joy hugged him while they slept. Nico could only hope he would be as happy the next morning.

“Is this one from you?” Will asked, voice quiet with hidden excitement. Nico nodded, too nervous to speak, pulling at his plain hoodie. The wrapping fell away as Will teared and tugged, soon left left cradling a lump of fabric. “This is... beautiful, Nico!” The nervous boy’s chest sagged in relief, smile stealing onto his face as Will threw off the sweater he was wearing and donned the new creation, spinning around in his rush to the nearest mirror.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh Gods, Nico, of course! Did you make this? Thank you so much!” Will held it up before putting it on, gifting Nico with a laugh like soft rain pattering down on a warm summers day as he read the words out loud. “Significant Annoyance? That’s perfect!” Nico laughed with him, glad the nickname was still well-received, as the teen slipped it on.

He was the greatest model Nico could have asked for. A narrow frame showed off the fabric well: a stunning blue, deep and bright at the same time. Nico thought he’d chosen it because it was cheap, but when Will put it on he realised it’s because it matched the doctor's eyes perfectly. The body of it fit well, even if the arms were a little loose, which made Nico glad he hadn’t painstakingly added rows upon rows of purled stitching for a cute pattern or edge. It wouldn’t have been worth the struggle - the embroidered words were centerpiece enough. They spilled across Will’s chest in a haze of silver, grey and white; threads mixed and blended in the way Persephone had learn from Athena herself. The 20 letters had taken ages to get right, but to see them coupled with Will’s pure joy and excitement as he studied them in his reflection made all the effort worth it.

Needless to say, it beat Will’s gift to Nico that Christmas... which may or may not have been a good thing, because Will’s competitive nature soon swarmed up, and he was already making a gift of his own by the New Year.

“Kayla!” He rushed, panting, into the Apollo cabin from the infirmary. “Please tell me you know where I left my other needle?” Will held a lonely knitting needle in his right hand, pointing it at his half-sister.

“Laundry pile.” She replied, waving behind her towards said pile. It was mainly full of denim and orange cotton, but Will managed to extract the pale wooden tool after some digging. “Why, are you making something again?” It had been years since Will had done any knitting, having been taught by Malcolm Pace of the Athena Cabin during Will’s first few weeks at camp, so Kayla had every reason to be curious. 

“Yep.” Will fell onto his bed, after fishing out a ball of yarn from under it. “You know the sweater Nico made me?”

Kayla laughed, sitting up straight. “The one you’ve been wearing almost every day since?” 

“Yeah, I want to make him one too.”

“What, for Christmas next year or something? Are you just going to hand it to him now?” His head was bent too far over his busy fingers to see as she raised an eyebrow at him, but he knew her sass too well. 

“Oh, totally. You know me, just can’t wait to be organised and do everything in advance.” He grinned down at his work, shaking his head slightly with concentration. He didn’t want to drop a stitch, after all. “It’s his birthday on the 28th, I’m going to give it to him then.”

His sister aww-ed in delight, deciding (for once) to leave him be so that he could get it done on time. Will appreciated that, because he had a lot of work to do in the coming month - or, rather, 27 days.

Will certainly worked hard in those four weeks. Between shifts at the infirmary, general camp stuff and counselor responsibilities, he barely had time to himself let alone keep spending enough time with his boyfriend to make everything seem normal and knit him a sweater. Much like Nico had, he considered just buying one ready-made or getting someone else to help him, but he was eager to do it properly. So, it was a relief after sleepless nights and busy days that Will was finally finished with the sweater three days early; only the embroidery left. But Will was tired and had already misspelt half the terms on his latest patient file, so he had to keep it simple.

GHOST KING 👻  He finished, snipping the end of the silver-white thread. Will held it up to Kayla and the light, dusting off any last threads. “What do you think?”

“Ghost King...” Kayla read, a small smile on her face. “With a tiny ghost, too! That’s adorable, Will.” She wandered a little closer, inspecting the gift in the light cast from the sunrise. “You used a template, right? Because you can’t draw, and your handwriting has never been that good.”

“Geez, Kayla, no need to be so harsh.” Will smiled, clearly joking. “Of course I did, it’s got to be perfect for tonight.” It was already Nico’s birthday; Will stayed up all night to finish on time. Kayla knew this and sighed, deciding to make her brother get some rest.

“I’m covering your shift today, you need to sleep before you have your date tonight.” She decided, swinging Will’s bag over her own shoulder and giving his weary face a last look. “Seriously, sleep. I’ll make up some worthy excuse and tell Nico, he’ll understand.” Will protested for only a moment before yawning, and flopping down onto his bunk.  A sleep couldn’t hurt...

He woke up near sunset that day, almost time to meet Nico. It was a rush for him to get ready and properly awake, but he made it to the woods just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. 

“Will!” Nico waved from the edge, a small look of worry on his face. “I was, um... beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” He admitted, and Will felt his face burn in shame for making his boyfriend worry, even a little.

“Of course I’d come, I just slept in all day. Sorry.” He said, and they wandered a little deeper into the woods, searching for the clearing. Nico insisted it was no problem, which made Will feel more at ease. He was still excited, however, to show Nico what he made (the gift was hidden in his bag, with food for the birthday picnic). 

The two made their way into the clearing in content silence, Will secretly itching to see Nico’s reaction to his gift. But he remained as patient as he could, happy to enjoy Nico’s smiles, quiet laughs and stories, enjoying his birthday together in the peaceful way Nico loved. In fact, Will (and Kayla, but she was sworn to secrecy) was the only demigod at camp who knew it was the Italian boy’s birthday - all Nico’s other friends were off in New Rome or the mortal world, after all. It made for far less stress on Nico’s half: he didn’t want random people wishing him a happy birthday all day. No, Nico di Angelo was perfectly joyful to spend the night with his Significant Annoyance under the stars, especially when he surprised him with a gift.

“Here you go.” Will said, presenting a soft package wrapped in black paper with tiny ghosts. The Son of Apollo bought it specially for that, and the remaining roll would stay unused in his cabin except from wrapping Nico’s other gifts: so he was relived to see the other boy smile ever so slightly. 

“Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it!”

“Okay, okay!” He almost laughed, ripping the paper to reveal an equally dark sweater. “Wow, did you make this?” Will hummed in excited agreement, watching Nico unfold and hold it up to the moonlight. 

“Oh my Gods.” He read the words and for a moment Will thought he was going to hate it. But then Nico laughed - no, giggled -  a clear, pure sound cutting through the crisp air like a knife through cake. “It’s pretty cool, thanks Will.” The compliment wouldn’t seem like much to an outsider, but Will knew it meant a lot. Nico turned to look at the blond with his dark brown eyes, plain and simple in a way Will could get lost in forever. They were creased at the sides as he smiled, a true smile with his eyes that Will enjoyed so much. He looked good, too, with the well-fitting black sweater on, small letters and tiny illustration embroidered on the neckline. 

“Stop staring.” Nico suppressed a smile, going red as his boyfriend shook his head slightly before looking Nico in the eye again.

“Aww, but you look so cute!”

[wickedsingularity]

Mittens [Part 2]

wickedsingularity’s Christmas Stories 2019 Masterlist

Fandom: MCU Pairings/characters: Steve Rogers x reader (but not really), all Avengers pre AOU Words: 2732 Warnings: Fluff, bad flirting, too much knitting, me not being as well versed in English knitting terms as Norwegian, kissing, stealing of food, kisses as currency

Summary: Part 2 of Mittens (as requested from lala423 on FF.Net) from wickedsingularity's Christmas Stories 2018, recommend reading that first if you haven't already. Steve is learning to knit to express his feelings.

<< Mittens Part 1

Despite me promising Steve that we didn't have to communicate our feelings with knitted clothes, he brought it up again that he wanted to learn.

I was in the common area, working on Tony's New Year socks and munching away on my Rocky Road treats. It was the worst cliché of all, but I was doing them in red, with golden details, and light blue across the toes. I had tried to think of other colour schemes for him, and black with some bright colour in a rocky pattern would also work, but the Iron Man colour theme was just more fun. If he wanted free socks, he would have to take them as I made them.

"Hi, doll." Steve came in, followed by Sam and Natasha. He gave my shoulder a squeeze and I leaned my head towards his hand. We were just a couple of days into our relationship and our sort of first date had been dinner on Christmas Day. It was still very new to us, even though we had known each other for a long time and had admitted to having feelings for a while too. He came around the couch and sat down next to me and the other two found seats around us.

"Hi," I greeted them, barely taking my eyes off the yarn. "Any luck with the new lead on Bucky's whereabouts?"

"It was a dead-end," Sam said. "False alarm."

I looked up at that, seeing Sam's and Natasha's disgruntled faces and Steve's defeated one. I nudged him with my shoulder, not wanting to say anything in front of the others, but letting him see in my eyes that I was hopeful. His lips twitched at one corner and he nudged me back.

"Has Tony seen what you're knitting for him yet?" Natasha asked, nodding at the half-done sock in my hands. I had reached the heel and was halfway through the knitting back and forth to make the base of the heel.

"Not yet," I replied, grinning slightly. "I haven't seen him since Christmas morning. He'll either hate it or love it."

"He'll love it. He'll probably want a matching pair to wear with his suit."

I snorted at the image that popped into my head, the Mark XLV with long, thick fluffy socks. "I might just make a pair for his suit, for fun."

Natasha, Sam and Steve started talking about the dead-end they had been sent on in their search for Bucky, I listened with one ear. But after a little bit, I noticed that Steve's attention had switched.

"I still want to learn." His voice was quiet, not speaking up, and I only heard him over the sound of the others talking because he was sitting next to me.

I turned to look at him, and he was staring down at the knitting in my hands, a small smile on his face and I smiled back. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. If you teach me."

My heart fluttered and my face heated up a little. "Okay. But you're smart and a fast learner, so you're not allowed to be better at this than me."

"I promise you will be the knitting master here, doll."

He had called me doll every now and then throughout the time we had known each other, on occasion he used it on others too, but there was something about the way he said it to me now that had me melt. I figured it was probably just my overactive imagination, but I didn't care, because I liked the way it made me feel.

"Okay. I got plenty of extra sets of needles and too much yarn in my room. You can help yourself to as much as you need. When do you want to get started?"

"Do you have time now?"

I nodded. "Come on."

It seemed the others had caught the gist of what we were doing, because as we stood up to leave, Sam called after us. "Try not to make knitting kinky!"

Teaching Steve to knit was as easy as I expected. By making small squares, I basically just taught him how to cast on and off, do knit and purl stitches, and how to change colour in less than an hour. It wasn't neat, it was crooked and knobbly, but he got the techniques perfectly. He also asked about the special kind of decreasing binding off I did for his mittens, and that's when I realised that he was up to something. And when he rummaged through my stash and picked skeins without letting me see which colours he picked, I knew he was most definitely up to something.

For the next couple of days, he spent more time in his room than usual and he never brought the knitting out for anyone to see. I had to admit I was awfully curious, and when he knocked on my door one late evening looking sheepish and asking if he could buy a few more skeins from me, I had to ask.

"You can pay me by telling me what you're making since it requires more yarn," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and looking at him with pursed lips.

There was a slight blush to his cheeks and he shook his head and reached for something in his back pocket. "It's done already. Now I just have to improve on it. But I can't tell you what it is yet," he said, opening his wallet.

"No, Steve. No." I put my hand on his wallet and pushed it away. "You can have as much yarn as you want. I'm just really curious."

He grinned and put his wallet back in his pocket very slowly as if I was going to change my mind and demand money anyway. "I will tell you. I promise. When it's done."

I pursed my lips again and pretended to consider him, but then I smiled and shook my head with amusement, walking over to the bed and kneeling down to pull out the box underneath it that was overflowing with yarn. "Help yourself." I sat down cross-legged on the bed and waited.

Steve looked at me. "You can't know which colour I'm – or colours – I'm going to pick."

"I'm so goddamn curious, but fine, I'll close my eyes. Just for you." I closed my eyes, and it was so hard to keep them closed as I heard Steve walk over and kneel down to rummage through the skeins and balls. He seemed to be taking his time and somehow, I knew he did it to mess with me, and I was just about to open my eyes and give him attitude, but then his lips were on mine. My eyes did snap open then, but he lingered and they closed again. All too soon he pulled back and I blinked dazedly. Having just started kissing him on the regular, each one still made my insides all fluttery and my brain fry.

When I was able to think straight again, I saw him standing there looking awfully smug, hands being his back. "That was for the yarn."

"Oh, well, then. Have all of it."

He chuckled and walked out, walking backwards out the door so I still couldn't see what colour he picked.

The next day, Steve and Sam headed out on a private mission. Steve had knocked on my door right before lunch, which we had planned to go out for, to tell me Sam had just got a promising lead on Bucky and they had to head out right away before it went cold but would be back the next day for New Year's Eve. Then he'd given me a kiss I felt all the way down to my toes and hurried off.

Seeing as I had long since finished Tony's socks and Iron Man's socks and the purple mittens I had promised Clint, I decided to take a break from knitting and joined Clint for a Christmas movie marathon.

We had made it through two movies before we ordered in dinner, which was brought up by Tony who had been heading in just as the delivery guy came. "You ordered dinner for me too?" he asked, opening one of the containers, two bags with the rest hanging from his wrist. "How lovely of you!"

"Uhm..." I started.

"That's just for the two of us," Clint said, getting to his feet with several groans and hurried to snatch the bags and the container from Tony while I went to find soda and water and plates and cutlery.

"Ouch." Tony clutched at his heart. "I paid for that TV and that couch and those plates. I can feel the love."

"I'm sure there's enough for you too, Tony," I said, even though my stomach was roaring like a ravenous grizzly bear.

"That's okay, I just ate."

There was something that sounded like a growl from Clint, but he handed one of the three plates I had brought over to Tony and the too helped himself.

Clint started up another Christmas movie and we dug into the containers that really held enough food to feed the entire team. It wasn't long before the smell of food attracted more people and Natasha sauntered into the room. She leaned over the couch and snatched an onion ring from my plate. She kept reaching for stuff on my plate, until I used my powers to create a barrier around it, not letting her through.

"Hey!" she protested.

"There's more food there," I said, pointing to the containers on the table. "And in the fridge."

She made a sound of annoyance but kept leaning over the back of the couch, watching the movie. After a few minutes, I felt her move away. "What's this?" she asked.

Tony, Clint and I all looked back, she had picked something off the floor. In her hand was... something fluffy. As she turned it around and held it up, I saw it was a pair of mittens. The knobbliest pair of mittens I had ever seen. But my heart had started to race a million miles a minute.

"Your earlier work?" Tony asked, frowning. I shook my head.

"I'm guessing Steve made these," Natasha said, handing them over to me.

I had to smile as I looked at them because they were really knobbly. The knit and purl stitches along the cuff were so lose I could probably fit two hands inside if I tried. They were in two my favourite colours, and the change of colour hadn't been done at the same stitch all the way up, so it was crooked, but the stripes were nicely sized and repeated in a way that would have made it a beautiful pair if the overall knitting had been better. The thumb seemed to be a bit tight, but it would expand with use. I was so proud that he had managed to leave a few stitches behind and then pick them up later and make the thumb. I had not taught him that.

"When did Steve learn to knit?" Clint asked.

"He asked me to teach him a few days ago."

"He's not really good at that, is he," Tony commented, grinning as he looked at the mittens.

"It's the first thing he's made," I said, defending him. "I think they're beautiful."

"He's got your favourite colours right at least," Clint commented.

I didn't reply, because my heart was beating so hard and I felt emotional and didn't trust my voice.

Tony and Clint quickly lost interest as there were some loud bangs from the movie we were watching. Natasha gave me a wink and then hurried over to her favourite armchair, rolled her eyes at the TV, but watched nonetheless.

I held the mittens in my hands, turning my attention back to the movie too. I couldn't wait for Steve to come home.

It had been a good lead on Bucky. It hadn't brought them to wherever he was currently hiding, but they were getting closer. The building they had searched, he had definitely been there for a short time.

Steve was pushing the Quinjet hard to get home. He had some knitting to get done before Stark's usual New Year's Eve party that evening. The first pair of mittens he had made had been a right disaster and were hopefully well on their way to a recycling facility by now. He had been sort of proud of the second pair as soon as he finished them. He knew they weren't good, but he'd been so proud and had been his way over to give them to his girlfriend when he had seen one of the pairs she had made him on the counter by the door and saw the difference and felt awful. So, he had gone to get more yarn instead. Hopefully, the third time was the charm.

He had some doubt to if he managed to knit an entire pair in barely a handful of hours, but it would not be from lack of trying.

Thankfully this hadn't been an official mission, so he didn't have to go through the tediousness that debriefing and medical and report writing was. Instead, he said goodbye to Sam and went straight to the shower.

Wet hair, but clean and dressed in clean comfortable clothes, Steve went to grab something to drink from the kitchen after the shower before he would start on the knitting. He itched to see his girlfriend first but knew that if he knocked on her door now, he wouldn't be able to leave in time to make the mittens. But on his way back to his room, he ran into her.

"Hi," she said, a huge grin on her face.

Steve pulled her towards him with his free hand on the small of her back and planted his lips to hers. "Hi," he whispered with a grin to match hers, leaning his forehead to hers.

"JARVIS said you were home. Was it a good lead?"

"Yeah, this one was a solid lead. Didn't find him, but we're closer."

"Good." She leaned in for another kiss while she slid her hands from his back and up his chest and that's when he noticed her hands were not bare.

Steve pulled back slightly and looked down and felt his face heat as he saw she was wearing the second pair of mittens he had made. "What's – How – Where did you..."

"Nat found them behind the couch yesterday. You made them?"

He took her hands in his and did some quick thinking, but settled on being straight with her. "Yeah. I wanted to make mittens for you too. But they're no good, so I was going to try again. I showed them to Sam before we left because I was so busy binding off when he called that I didn't answer right away. Guess I forgot about them." He was moving to pull them off her hands, but she snatched her hands away and put them under her arms so he couldn't get to them. "But they're no good. I was going to make another pair."

"I love them," she said firmly, staring up at him. Steve cocked his head, but she shook her head. "I love them more than any mittens I've ever had my entire life because you made them. If you take them from me, I will punch you."

Steve couldn't help chuckle, but he did not doubt for one second that she would indeed punch him and it would hurt like hell. "You're crazy."

"I just love a good pair of mittens." She stared so intently into his eyes as she said that, that Steve felt his heart skip a few beats.

"Okay," he said a bit breathlessly. "I'm still going to try to make a nicer pair for you. I was on my way to do that now."

"Then I'm coming with you. We can knit together." She started down the hall, Steve hurried after her.

"Don't you have to get ready for Stark's party?"

"It's hours away. Already have the dress and shoes picked out. Hair can do what it wants. Make-up takes 5 minutes. I'll be fine."

Steve didn't think he could be more head over heels for her, but then he stumbled a bit more.

<< Mittens Part 1

[queenangst]

one of the Dads can crochet/knit/does needle point

send me a prompt + i’ll write you a fic in 30 min | ‘30 min fics’

Katsuki knew something was up when Present Mic wore a sweater in the middle of summer. 

Mic-sensei could be an unreasonable and unusual teacher. 

Last week they’d had a ‘snowball fight’ since everyone had complained about the heat; they’d written some English vocabulary on crumpled up paper balls and thrown them at each other. Katsuki had delighted in launching them at Kirishima to test his reaction time with his Quirk, but practicing English had been less fun. 

Two days ago he’d worn socks with sandals, which everyone and their mom knew was an absolute fucking travesty. Katsuki hadn’t said anything, but he’d glared at Mic-sensei’s penguin socks like he was holding a personal grudge. 

But a sweater? And a poorly-made one, at that. Something was definitely up. 

“Maybe he has a cold,” Kirishima said during lunch when the topic came up. 

“That’s dumb.”

“Well, why don’t we ask him?”

“Ask him yourself,” Katsuki grumbled, and then shoveled more rice in his mouth so his idiot friends would understand that he didn’t really want to talk. 

His friends did ask after lunch. Mic-sensei brightened when they mentioned it, Katsuki scowling in the back of the pack. 

“Do you like it?” Mic-sensei enthused, always a bit too loud. “Made it myself!”

The rest of the class was trickling in. Uraraka gasped. 

“You knit?”

“What, Mic-sensei knits?”

“Wow, I was wondering.”

“Looking good, sensei!”

From there it all went downhill. Mic-sensei wore a growing collection of sweaters, all in varying colors. He made a scarf for Aizawa-sensei, which was a dumb gift because Aizawa-sensei already had a capture weapon. He made matching gloves for himself and All Might, with colors and design from All Might’s Silver Age costume, and Katsuki would never admit how much he liked them. 

(Deku, of course, did, eyes shining as he marvelled over Mic-sensei’s newest creation. Katsuki rolled his eyes, lightly kicking at his friend’s ankles, but he’d ran appreciative eyes over them, too.)

Then one of the girls asked if Mic-sensei could teach her to knit. Then Yaoyorozu had pulled out yarn. And then the next few English lessons had been Mic-sensei instructing them on how to make all sorts of things. They’d started out with beanies and ended with tiny knit dolls. 

It was terrible. 

Not that Katsuki didn’t try. But it turned out there was something he was shittier at than feelings, and it was knitting. 

Katsuki just didn’t get it. The pointy sticks looked like they were meant for stabbing. The yarn or string or whatever got all tangled. There were way too many terms, and Katsuki would miss one thing and then lose himself in the rest.  

Deku was slightly better, though Katsuki would rather throw himself out the nearest window than tell him that. Todoroki was even better, and Katsuki wanted to hit him with his knitting needle. He didn’t, but only because that meant he was admitting anyone was better than him. 

“Yours is cute,” Deku said, leaning across the desk, “Kacchan, it looks great.”

“Shut your mouth,” Katsuki growled. “Knitting doesn’t make heroes.”

By the time the end of the year rolled around, the yarn and the knitting and all of it had finally died down and disappeared. Katsuki was grateful for it. If he heard the word purl again he would hurl. 

No more blankets or beanies or messed-up pro heroes. (Mic had made little replica dolls of all the teachers. It didn’t do them justice.) That was just fine with Katsuki. 

Then he got kidnapped and stuck in a cell and the only thing Katsuki could think about was stupid yarn. Knit one, purl one, he repeated to himself when the time stretched and the darkness pressed. Knit one, purl one, when he saw the heroes again. Knit one, purl one, when everything fell apart, like Katsuki had pulled the wrong stitch and everything was unraveling now. 

Everyone called him brave. Katsuki called himself stupid. 

He’d gotten caught. He was better than the villains, he’d always dreamed of being on top. Then Shigaraki had said, join us. Like Katsuki had some darkness in him. 

“Stupid,” Katsuki shouted, when the hospital room was finally empty of tears and worried friends. He picked at the hospital blanket and traced the little pattern in it. He tore the blanket off from where it was tucked over his legs and shouted again wordlessly in frustration, not caring that someone probably heard him down the hall. 

When the anger and the fear was gone Katsuki was just tired. There was a knock on the door.

“It’s fuckin’ open,” Katsuki called, not caring. If it was his mom again—

It was Mic-sensei. He beamed when he saw Katsuki, and Katsuki sagged back in his hospital bed as his teacher crossed the room. 

“Feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good!” Mic-sensei said. Katsuki liked that about him. He didn’t press. Mic-sensei came to kneel down next to the bed. “Well, uh... Bakugou...”

Katsuki raised his eyebrows, and the smile on Mic-sensei’s face eased into something softer. 

“I wanted to tell you something,” Mic-sensei said.

“If it’s bullshit about me being brave or whatever I don’t want to hear it,” Katsuki snapped. 

“You are,” Mic-sensei said, “but that’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell you that I think you’re a hero. You don’t need to be told that, I think you know it, but I think you should hear it.”

For the first time Katsuki couldn’t speak. Mic-sensei smiled again, patting Katsuki’s knee. 

“Sensei,” Katsuki tried, but the words got stuck in his throat. Knit one, purl two. 

“This is for you,” Mic-sensei said, and from his pocket he pulled out a tiny, colorful doll. When he pressed it in Katsuki’s hands Katsuki realized it wasn’t one of the doll pro-heroes like how All Might carried his on a keychain now. It was— it was Katsuki, fire and all. 

Katsuki gingerly wrapped his fingers around the doll. 

“So you don’t forget,” Mic-sensei said.

[mummytoamelia]

Now For The Truly Ugly...

To all the mums that say their pregnancy was amazing...you’re lying! 

The second half of my pregnancy was by far the worst... both physically and mentally! Why did women do this to themselves, on purpose?! I used to ask myself a lot while I was struggling to put on my own socks by myself! 

I was now at the point of pregnancy where my tummy, now resembled a large beach ball, doing anything from putting on socks to getting up the stairs to go for a pee was an Olympic sport, that I think I deserved a gold medal for! 

At the beginning of the second half of my pregnancy, I hit the “oh shit” phase, it had started to hit me, the magnitude of the situation I was in, in not too long I would be actually pushing a whole ass body out of my hooha...I was less than excited about this bit, to say the least! 

In the middle of prepping and planning, worrying and wondering, I was also going through, what proved to be THE WORST break up of my life. Now I’m not talking about breaking up with my partner, I think I would have been able to handle that better than this. I’m talking about a best friend break up, and if any of you have ever gone through that, you’ll know what I mean when I say, that shit hurts a million times more than a romantic breakup! 

I had woken up one morning and I can’t remember now what I had wanted to tell her, but I assume it was something funny, I tried to contact her through snapchat, which was what we spoke on most of the time... ‘pending, the username, that I won’t include for privacy reasons, will receive your snap when they add you as a friend’ “what?” I remember thinking to myself, has she made a new sc and deleted this one? So I went to Facebook instead and tried to send her a message...she had deleted me there too. At this point I was really confused and as I wasn’t blocked I could still send her a message, and so I did, venting how angry and frustrated I was about the situation. 

I know we had drifted in the months leading up to this, but I genuinely didn’t think it was so bad that she had to cut me out of her life totally. The message I then received in return broke my heart, I read and read and re read what she had said over and over and over...trying to make sense of it. She was hurt by something I could see that, but I got no warning. No text. Nothing. She just cut me out without an explanation. I felt as though someone was stabbing me in the heart. My head was spinning and my tummy was doing flips...was I really about to loose someone that I put so much of my love into? My hands were shaking and I could barley hold my phone steady, tears splashing onto my phone screen “I can’t loose someone else, not right now, not like this, please don’t do this to me Niamh” I remember sobbing into my knees, trying to find a way around it in my head. What had I done? Why was this necessary, up until this point, I really hadn’t done anything wrong. I was totally devastated. 

A little bit of background is needed here, this girl, aside from my boyfriend, was my life. We were like sticky plasters from the day and hour we met, we did pretty much everything together, down to being pregnant at the same time. One of us got a hair cut, so did the other. One dyed their hair, so did the other. Tea dates. Nights out. Days in. The love I had then, and still have for her now, is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. People say you can find a soul mate in friends as well as lovers. She is the other half of my soul in another body! 

Head still reeling from the message I just received, I reacted...badly, out of anger, out of spite and pure frustration. I said things to her that I am not proud of and that I doubt I will ever forgive myself for, and although they weren’t nice, it was coming from a place of deep hurt. I’m not going to copy and paste the he said she said here, as those discussions are between the two of us, and I have since come to realise, not everything needs to be shared. She had broken my heart in a way I never imagined anyone could, and if I’m honest I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. Looking back on it now, it was childish and ridiculously immature... but that is how I felt in the moment. 

As the days went on, and time continued, every time I did something, I lifted my phone to tell her, and it was in those moments, that it hit me how much I had lost...every time I saw something funny and went to tag her and realised all over again she had blocked me, each time was like a fresh stabbing. Every new milestone I hit with my pregnancy, all I wanted to do was to tell her. I so badly wanted her to continue to be a part of my life. It was so hard to picture my life without her, now that we had grown so close. But that was what I had to do, for almost two years. 

I found myself scrolling through all of our photos and crying, I did a lot of crying in those first few months of trying to come to terms with everything, I found it super hard, trying to imagine my life without this girl. We had so many plans, for our future for our babies, just in general, and it had all been wiped away within minutes. It’s hard trying to find ways around talking to the only person you actually spoke to every day, I found myself being really bored and asking a lot of what if’s or why’s. 

As time went on, I gradually got to an okay place, I was feeling good, I had learned to let her go, and although I missed her, although I desperately missed the companionship, of the only other person that got me, I was getting used to not being someone she loved anymore (Lewis Capaldi eat your heart out). 

Flash forward to where I am now, and time has moved on, rapidly, and I can now say after a long break, Niamh and I are finally getting back to where we used to be. We have both accepted that our lives are totally different now and nothing will ever be the same. We are getting there. We planned a coffee date, a chance to air everything out and to make amends in person. She had gone to toilet in the food court, she’d texted me so I walked towards it and ended up running straight into her! We awkward chatted for about 5 minutes as we walked towards costa, my fav location, and ironically the place I found out I was pregnant, I had so many good memories of this place, with this girl. We ordered our drinks and sat down...I felt so nervous. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, I actually felt the way I did the first time Thomas and I met up! Then she started to speak to me, about Emily, and her life, how she was getting on and how much had changed, and then proceeded to spill her tea over the table...I could feel the smile stretch across my face, this was exactly the same girl, she hadn’t changed and I still loved her like she was my own sister, all of the nervousness faded away and we chatted for what seemed like forever. 

As She drove me home I couldn’t help but remember the last time she did this, I was telling her about being pregnant. SO much has changed since then but yet we were still the same people...two halves of a whole idiot! She came in for a cuppa. I got Amelia back from her nanny, she got to meet my daughter and our little babies played together... in that moment my heart was so happy, I had my soul mate back and was I fuck giving her up for anything! 

Throughout the rest of my pregnancy, I developed what’s known as Cholestasis, which for the simple minded like myself, is a liver dysfunction, in which all the toxins that should be taken out of my body are pumped back into it... potentially causing harm to the baby! 

It took many...MANY, visits to both A&E and foetal assessment, trying different antihistamines and steroid creams before they finally decided I needed to be induced. I was sat in the consultants room as he was out speaking with medical professionals I assume. I thought I was only there to receive the results of yet another set of bloods. The doctor came back in and was like “Yes, so you’ll be induced on Saturday.” SATURDAY?! As in THREE days from now?! In that moment I have  never shit myself more! We still had 2 weeks left before she was due! I only thought I was ready for her arrival at this point! I remember walking out to the corridor trembling, we would have our little baby in our arms this time next week, this time four days even! I didn't know if I was nervous, excited or shitting myself...probably all 3 tbh! 

If you have ever done a plank in your life, you will know how long a minute is...imagine the wait, for those final 3 days, when I knew I would have my little baby! I was never particularly nervous about my labour, as I was very much of the mindset, as long as I get an epidural, I don’t exactly have a plan...whatever happens, happens. I hadn’t ever really allowed myself to think about it, and in hindsight I’m glad I looked at it that way because I think it made my labour pretty successful (minus a few minor things). 

The day before I was due to be induced the joiners had just finished putting the tiles on our brand new kitchen ( that’s a story in itself). So that night Thomas’s mum, sisters, aunty and cousin came round to help give it a clean down from all the dust they left behind. They helped organise the cupboards and put everything back into place, I say they helped, I didn't actually do anything I watched as they all bustled about our home helping organise it for me.

That night I couldn’t sleep, I tossed and turned till around 4am. Realising I wasn’t going to get much sleep, either due to nerves or excitement I came down stairs and did what I always do when I can’t settle myself...put the kettle on! Dressing gown on. Tea in hand, I sat on the sofa and decided I was going to knit a hat. Hayley ( Thomas’s sister) and I had spent much of the evening before trying to figure out how to do a purl stitch and neither of us could get it right and I was determined to do it! So that’s what I did, the night before I went in to have my baby, I knitted a tiny hat, that wouldn’t fit much more than a dolls head! 

The Saturday that I got induced rolled around after so much waiting and anticipation, by myself, Thomas and his family! They were excited I was straight bricking it at this point. We had the baby’s bag packed, we had my hospital bag packed, filled with all the things that I was told I would definitely need...which I definitely did not need! Everything was loaded into the car, myself included, and off we set for the hospital. It was weird knowing that the next time I was in my house, I would be carrying a tiny baby! 

We arrived at 8am, and I got signed it, they did all of their checks on me and then attached the trace...again! They had to monitor the baby for half an hour before they could administer the pessary. So Thomas and I sat and discussed what our life would be like when we got home, how scary giving birth was going to be and how excited, but also terrified we were to be raising a mini us! Half past 8 came round pretty quick and the nurse came back and ran me through how an induction works. First the pessary will be inserted, to loosen the cervix, and hopefully contractions start on their own, if not I will need to be put on a drip to help it along, but the main goal was to try make my body go into labour by itself. 

She left and asked me to take the bottom half of my clothes off so she could insert the pessary. It was quite uncomfortable to be done, but it wasn’t sore, just a lil awkward to have a random person poking about in your hooha! I’d say it took little more than a few minutes to put in, and then it was just waiting after that...a whole lot of waiting. Around lunch time Hayley and Hannah came to visit me to see how I was getting on and it was good because it meant I could walk about. They were both so excited that the baby would be here so soon! I had to get the trace put on every 2 hours for half an hour to monitor if anything was happening, so I had to head back to the ward for them to do that. 

Later on that evening Thomas’s mum, other sister, aunty and Edie came in to see me and just chat, hoping for the best. By this stage I was getting a wee bit fed up waiting and nothing was happening. It was uncomfortable to walk and sitting down was quite sore because of the nurse’s poking about so I decided to back to the ward and try to sleep for a little bit, I knew I wasn’t going to get much sleep through the process of labour so I thought trying to now, would be my best bet. I didn’t think I had slept long but I guess I must have because the next time I saw a clock it was around half 10 and Thomas was getting ready to head home, he had to go at 11 unfortunately. So I said goodbye to him and told him he better answer his phone if I go into labour, and so he left. 

Around half 11 the tale of the pessary had fallen out and when I went to pee the whole thing fell out so I said to the midwife who was now on at the time, her name was Laura and she was so lovely! So she told me to ay down that she would need to put another one in. So I did, and this time it was painful, kind of like a sharp shooting pain, but it didn’t last for any more than a few minutes. Laura told me that I shouldn't have been able to feel the pessary at all, nor should I have been able to see it, which meant that it wasn’t inserted correctly the first time. She asked me how I was feeling and if I had a birth plan that I would like her to follow, and I told her as long as I have an epidural and can get the baby out, I would be fine. She showed me were the nurse button was on the wall if anything happened and to call her straight away. 

So I lay down to watched Netflix, waiting for something to happen. About an hour passed and I began to feel little cramps which I just assumed were the baby moving about, I was hit by a massive urge to pee, so I waddled to the toilet, and this was THE most painful pee I think I have ever had! By this point I had changed into the night dress I wanted to give birth in because I knew it was comfy and I wasn't going to be too restricted in it. 

On my return to my bed, I began to get shooting pains, that I was later told was in fact contractions, I had just assumed they would be extremely painful from the start so I didn't think much of it. I began to pace back and forward on the ward, and as I was the only one there I had the space to do it. The contractions became more frequent as I could only get halfway down the ward before another one hit, so I tried to bounce on the ball I had been given, to which I found I couldn't even sit down. I instead tried to lie on the bed and that was even worse, this went on for about an hour of me trying to find a way to be comfortable that wasn’t painful. Eventually I gave in and pressed the nurse button. By this point I was almost in tears, the contractions were getting really painful. 

Laura came to me and offered me pain killers and I said to give it half an hour and if they don’t do anything to press the button again. So up an down I paced for half an hour, not even making it half way down the ward before a contraction hit. When it got to the point that I couldn’t stand up straight, I hit the button again and Laura came down to me. She asked me to get onto the bed so that she could examine me, through tears I was saying I couldn’t do it, it was too painful, she offered me the gas and air and said that I had to get on the bed cause she needed to examine how far along I was. I knew the gas was going to make me feel sick, but I also knew I had to see how far I was, so I took the gas, and it hit, instantly. My whole body relaxed and Laura was able to examine me fairly quickly, she was fit to tell me that I was 4cm, “You’re about 4cm along, I will need to go and get the delivery room ready for you.” All I could think about was stopping myself from being sick, Laura headed up the ward to get my labour suit ready and I waddled as fast as I could to the bathroom and threw up, as I knew I would with the gas, but after that I was fine with it, I came back to the bed and sat puffing away at the gas until Laura came back. 

At this point I had totally forgotten to ring Thomas, so when Laura came back she helped me off the bed and aske if I wanted to ring him to get him to come in. So I rang him...voicemail “ Why do you never answer when it’s important” I remember saying to the phone, I rang him again and this time he did answer “It’s happening, I’m 4cm gone they're taking me to the delivery room, you need to come in now!” I said to him “Omg, okay, I’ll be as quick as I can!” I hung up, and Laura helped me waddle just down the hall to the delivery suit. 

After what seemed like 3 seconds, but was actually about 20 minutes, I heard Thomas come into the delivery room, I had to turn to look at him as I was leaning over the bed backwards trying to be comfortable with just the gas. Laura said to me “Do you want to face the other way while I examine you? It might be easier that way?” all I could do was nod, so she helped me manoeuvre round, to a semi comfortable position. “ Oh my, you’re 6cm now! Almost time to push!” to which I responded with, “Can I have an epidural now, I don’t want to feel any of it!” Laura reassured me that I was going to have one, I just needed to wait on the results of my bloods coming back first and that it would only take half an hour. This was at 2am, the bloods in fact took 3 hours to come back and by the time they did I was at 8cm, but it felt like minutes had passed. 

The anaesthetist came in and ran me through all of the safety precautions he had to take before administering the epidural, most of which I really wasn’t listening to all I heard was “ if you move while I do it, you could end up paralysed” He then gave me anaesthetic to numb where he was putting the big fuck off needle and before I knew it, it was done. I was convinced that it hadn’t worked and that it needed to be stronger because I could still feel the sensation of the contraction, which I thought at the time was pain. Laura filled a glove with cold water and was patting it on my legs saying “Can you feel this?” I was saying “Yeah I can, I think I need more of the epidural!” she patted my legs a few times asking the same question, and I had the same response each time. Then she touched my face with the glove and I gasped, it was FREEZING “Okay maybe the epidural is working!” I said and Thomas laughed! 

Time seemed to just disappear in that room, before I knew what was going on it was half 6 and Laura was breaking my waters, which was the weirdest feeling I think I’ve ever had! It felt like I had peed myself and I could feel the sensation of it but not quite the warmth. After that Laura told me she could see the head and all I had to do was push, and that with my next contraction I should push for as long and as hard as I could. 

I could feel the contraction coming so I breathed in the gas and pushed as hard as I could, to the point where I could see white spots in front of my eyes and I could feel the water I had been drinking rise up, I was going to be sick, so I had to stop. With every contraction the same thing happened and I was getting really frustrated, every time the baby’s head was almost out, I stopped pushing because I was nearly sick. “Com on, you an do it, push, push, push!” Laura kept saying to me, eventually I shouted back at her “you’re not listening to me I can’t do this, I literally cant I’m going to be sick!” At this point the baby’s heart rate started to drop and my blood pressure sky rocketed. “The only other thing we can do is give you an episiotomy to help get the head out, is that okay with you?” I remember saying to her “I don’t care what you have to do, just get this baby out of me!” So local anaesthetic was administered and Laura said to me “ I’m going to give you the cut with your next contraction, don’t push with this one, you shouldn’t feel the cut okay?” She wasn’t lying, with the next contraction she did the cut and I didn't feel it at all. As that contraction passed Laura kept speaking to me “Okay, with this next one I’m going to need you to push as hard as you can, for as long as you can, okay?” “okay” I remember saying to her. The contraction came and I went to push but before I could the baby’s head popped out, “We’re going to deliver the baby onto your chest are you okay with that?” Laura asked me “Yeah that’s okay” I heard myself say as the next contraction began and I started to push, the rest of the body just slid straight out, and she was placed onto my chest. 

As I lay there holding her, I can’t tell you what the rest of the room was doing because I couldn’t hear or see them, I began to cry, the happiest tears of my life. All I can remember saying was “can I keep her, am I allowed to keep her.” My heart swelled so much with the love I had for this tiny baby and as I looked at Thomas, I could see the tear and how happy he was at seeing his baby girl! 

The midwife took her to weigh her and clean her while I delivered my placenta. Thomas got to hold her for the first time, and he gave her, her first feed! I could tell he was so proud as I lay and watched them while my stitches were being sown up. I don’t remember much of the rest of my time in that room, I think I was still high form the gas and air. 

This is Amelia Grace Smith the minute she was born. 

As I was wheeled down the hall onto the ward, Thomas’s whole family was there and they were so excited to see her! The nurses told me they had never seen a gathering like it and how happy they were for us nearly made them cry. 

She was born at 7:22am on the Sunday morning, weighing 6lb 11oz, measuring at 52cm long. 

She was then and still is now (9 months on) the absolute light of my life! This is her now, at 9 months, happy healthy and as you can see, really enjoying her biscuits! 

Well, there you have it. The good, the bad and the truly ugly side of pregnancy. This post has been extremely long and if you made it this far, well done! It has been a journey and a half writing this post and it has taken me quite some time to finish it, reliving these memories was quite emotional. 

Thanks for taking the time to read, all my love 

                                                                     Dana  

                                                                            xx

[foreverwhelmed]

My Brother’s Guide to DC Superheroes

He made this as my Hanukkah present and I thought it was too funny not to share :)

A superhero guide from someone who is not at all qualified to make a superhero guide. Here goes nothing!

Superman:

Superman is easily the most overpowered hero in the D.C. universe. He can fly, has laser vision, x-ray vision, super strength, super speed, and probably a lot more. Sporting a blood red cape (Edna Mode would not approve), a suit with giant letter “S” on the front (which totally doesn’t stand for Superman), and red underwear fashionably worn outside his pants (has nobody from earth instructed him on how to correctly wear underwear?), Superman is a very well-dressed hero. His secret identity is a journalist named Clark Kent, who would look exactly like Superman, had it not been for his combing back his curly q and wearing glasses, which make the two personas completely indistinguishable. Superman’s only weakness is a fictional element, which he should really be able to avoid quite easily given his other powers. Although Superman may seem indestructible, he has one key weakness (other than Kryptonite), the sun. The sun is the source of all Superman’s powers, so in order to defeat him, all one must do is destroy the sun. What could go wrong? P.S. Side note, see this website here:

https://what-if.xkcd.com/49/

for what could, and could not go wrong.

Batman:

One of the most famous heroes in D.C. history, Batman is a very successful superhero despite not having any actual powers. However, what he lacks in superpowers, he makes up for in his multi-billion dollar net worth. Similarly to Superman, Batman also wears a cape (tsk tsk tsk), a suit with a bat on the front, a mask, and underwear worn outside his pants (Because if there’s one thing that makes people think, ‘Wow. That guy deserves my respect and admiration,’ it’s wearing underwear outside your pants). Along with the suit, Batman also carries around his handy dandy utility belt. This belt carries everything a hero would possibly ever need, including smoke, gas, and stun pellets, a tranquilizer gun, batarangs (not a typo, this is how they are actually spelled), various types of grenades, tracers, a rebreather (similar to an oxygen tank), glue globules, and much MUCH more (how heavy is this thing? How can he even walk, let alone fight crime with this thing on?). Although Batman’s weaknesses are not clearly stated (a.k.a. I didn’t feel like looking them up), he is just a regular human being, meaning that he is vulnerable to bullets, falling vending machines, flaming cacti, the word “Martha,” and much MUCH more. Batman’s alter-ego is super rich guy Bruce Wayne, a billionaire philanthropist. Overall, Batman is definitely one of the coolest in comic book history.

Cyborg:

Cyborg is a part-human part-robot superhero. Victor Stone was a popular high school football player with a promising future, until he died (but since we obviously both know how, I’ll spare you the details). Luckily, his father resurrected him and replaced many of his limbs with robotic parts (*COUGH* Darth Vader *COUGH*). Armed with a jetpack, arm cannon, and an upbeat catchphrase, Cyborg is a formidable crime fighting robot-person hybrid. Since we both clearly know everything there is to know about Cyborg, I will leave this section off right here, as to not restate what you know...I mean what we both already know.

Green Lantern:

Hal Jordan is a guy with willpower, and he’s in a space police thing and has a ring that can make stuff…I’m gonna be honest, I know basically nothing about Green Lantern, so I’m just gonna move on.

Wonder Woman:

Wonder Woman is a crime fighting Amazonian warrior. Sculpted from clay by Queen Hippolyta (hey wasn’t that the Amazonian from Theseus?) and given life and superhuman abilities by Aphrodite and other Greek gods (isn’t Wikipedia great?), Wonder Woman is a demigod with a list of powers rivaling that of Superman. She has super speed, strength, reflexes, intelligence, longevity, and much more, to compliment her hand-to-hand combat skills. But she has more than just her superhuman abilities. She also has an invisible jet, a lasso that makes people tell the truth, a sword and shield, and wrist deflector shield things (to use the technical term), and probably some more bizzare things I’ve never heard of. Sporting red white and blue colors on her super suit, Wonder Woman’s color scheme seems oddly American for a character based on the Amazons from Greek mythology (another illusion shattered). Wonder Woman’s alter ego is Diana Prince, who probably has a job and/or does some cool stuff. Her weaknesses include...wait a second, does she actually have any weaknesses? At least Superman has kryptonite. Oh my god, she might be more overpowered than Superman! Anyway, with her countless abilities, powers, and skills, Wonder Woman is among the most powerful superheroes in the D.C. universe.

Aquaman:

Aquaman is one of the most...interesting superheroes on this guide. With countless jokes being told at his expense, Aquaman is considered by man to be the viola section of the Justice League. His powers are pretty typical, such as his super strength and super speed, but what stands out is his ability to talk to and control aquatic creatures (you thought Squirrel Girl was scary, just wait until you face Great White Shark Man or Electric Eel Person). In addition to his powers, Aquaman has his trusty pitchfork, which he probably uses for something magicy or sea related. Aquaman’s super suit has a very...interesting color scheme, with a combination of an orange-yellow shirt and green pants that any elementary school art teacher would tell you clash with each other (that is when he chooses to wear a shirt at all). Aquaman’s real name is Arthur Curry, and as King of Atlantis, you might think he has better things to do than fight crime on the surface, but who knows? Maybe Atlantis is run by the citizens, or maybe the King is just a figurehead, and the lionfish and octopi have been ruling this entire time! Anyway, between the pitchfork, mind control, and countless jokes, Aquaman is a very unique superhero.

The Flash:

Bartholomew  “Barry” Allen, a.k.a. The Flash, may or not be the fastest superhero in the entire superhero universe. Although his list of superpowers is not as long as Superman or Wonder Woman’s The Flash is not to be underestimated. The Flash’s most famous superpower is his notorious super speed, which allows him to get anywhere in a Flash (get it?). In addition, he has super agility and stamina, has a healing factor, and is really smart. Using his speed as his main tool for fighting crime, Bartholomew doesn’t really use any weapons or equipment, other than his suit which prevent him from dying when he goes for a run (at least it’s not a cape). This suit is bright red with a yellow lightning symbol on the center picturing a Flash of lightning (get it?). When he isn’t fighting crime, Barty probably spends his time doing super smart sciency things. Of all the heroes on this guide, The Flash is the only one who has had a Netflix original series created about him. With his intelligence, suit, easiness to make puns about, and super speed rivaled by only Superman and Dash from The Incredibles, Bartho is a pretty cool hero.

Robin:

Note: Due to the high number of Robins in the D.C. universe, I will be referring to the hands down best incarnation of Robin ever created, Richard Grayson from the 1966 live action Batman TV series. With that out of the way, let’s begin. Robin, the Boy Wonder, is probably the most well known sidekick in superhero history. Similarly to Batman, he lacks any superpowers. However, what Robin lacks in powers he makes up for in his extraordinary skills, such as acrobatics, hand-to-hand combat, escapology, investigation, and of course, driving (that’s true! Check this website here to see for yourself. Or don’t. Either way. I don’t really care.) 

http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Richard_Grayson_(Batman_1966_TV_Series)

In addition, Robin also has his own utility belt, equipped with whatever is convenient to the plot. Robin’s suit consists of a red shirt, yellow cape (why a superhero who can’t fly wears a cape is beyond me), and green underwear worn outside his pants (*sigh*). In addition, he wears a black mask to conceal his identity, similarly to the Incredibles (but worse, obviously). Robin’s legal guardian is famous rich guy Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman (*Gasp*)! Although powerless, Robin is a formidable foe, and a trustworthy sidekick. “Holy knit-one purl-two Batman!” (A real quote from the TV show)

[ggmadeit]

Divide is defined according to Dictionary.com as to separate or part from something else; sunder; cut off. In the grand scheme of things division has its place, but in crafting?

There have been some great debates when it comes to this or that. I know we all have different life experiences that drive us towards that which we love. My question is what makes different wrong or bad? For example the internet was all up in arms over the Grits divide. Are you team salt or team sugar? Listen folks were serious about how grits should be eaten.

I prefer salt and pepper but what I eat don’t make you 🚽 so why does it matter? photo credit canitalkmyish.com

Please don’t make me discuss the black vs. white or in my culture light skin vs. dark skin UGH!! The word “and” exist for a reason but I digress, back to crafting.

MY CROCHET HERSTORY

I learned to crochet as a kid in summer camp. Yes I can and will crochet too. Does that make you like me any less? I would hope not! I am still GG, the Yarnho, the Orange fanatic and Shelbey’s mom.

Divide Yup I hooked that baby up and proud of it! When all I could do was crochet, I mostly focused on baby gifts. I didn’t venture into more complicated items until later in life. I was always afraid of knitting because it looked more complicated, however I never labeled folks that knit vs those that crocheted. As for yarn, I shopped where I knew which was Michaels, AC Moore and hell coming up Woolworths (did I just go all the way back? well it’s throwback thursday so there)

FACTS ACCORDING TO WIKIPEDIA

Crochet (English pronunciation: /kroʊˈʃeɪ/;[1] French: [kʁɔʃɛ][2]) is a process of creating fabric by interlocking loops of yarn, thread, or strands of other materials using a crochet hook.[3] The name is derived from the French term crochet, meaning ‘small hook’. These are made of materials such as metal, wood, or plastic and are manufactured commercially and produced in artisan workshops. The salient difference between crochet and knitting, beyond the implements used for their production, is that each stitch in crochet is completed before proceeding with the next one, while knitting keeps a large number of stitches open at a time. (Variant forms such as Tunisian crochet and broomstick lace keep multiple crochet stitches open at a time.)

However the earliest published pattern was in 1824, in a Dutch magazine. There are no known examples of crochet that are earlier than 1800. Knitting on the other hand, has examples as far back as around 1000 a.d.–these were a pair of knitted socks found in Egypt. Although the first knitting trade guild was started much later–in 1527 in Paris France.

THE DIVIDE

I was a part of a challenge where the majority of the participants crocheted. The talent blew me away on a daily basis. What their talent did not do was make me feel less than because I knit, not for one second. One day, a phenomenal crocheter was proud of her knitting progress; she was learning to knit. The reactions from the crowd hurt my feelings. I know they weren’t talking about me but…. comments like “knitters are bougie” wait what?, “crocheters don’t spend money on yarn” or how “crocheters are mistreated in local yarn stores”.

Listen, I am a lot of things, some you may not like, but bougie is not one. One of my dearest friends crochets her assets off and SHE introduced me to the yarn shop world. Teresa has a ton of yarn, yarn that she got from a yarn store. The same yarn stores she went to for help with HER CROCHET projects. I have been mistreated, but not because I knit vs crochet, but the color of my skin. They didn’t even bother to find out if I could do either, simply judged me based on my appearance. I am usually cute..sooo why can’t we all just get along? They are equally beautiful crafts. Period, the point and the blank.

YARN SHOPS

To all my yarn shop owners, those of you that I know personally, I can’t imagine you treating someone who didn’t knit rudely. I simply can’t! The feeling is so strong that I reached out to a few shop owners here in NJ. I even reached out to a shop I visited in Florida Stash and they offer crochet classes which were not well attended. Hell Nancy Ricci, who works in a Knitty City and is a fabulous knit designer, is currently crocheting.

Chelsea Yarns in Redbank is planning a CAL in the summer and the same for Frame & Fiber. Admittedly, most of their clientele is knitters yet they are crochet friendly. Have you all seen that crochet blanket that everyone was making on Instagram? Most of them are knitters. I kept hearing the same story. I talk to Laura from Four Purls (I love her BTW) and the same thing..they offer crochet classes and no one attends. The result is private lessons for crochet. Yarn is yarn people..look at the picture below. I did both knit and crochet from the same ball.

So my challenge is this, for those crocheters that feel left out in yarn shops, go talk to the owners and see what happens. To my shop owners, make sure you are crochet friendly, because the ultimate goal is to sell the yarn to whoever wants to purchase.

LET’S DISCUSS

The word AND damnit! It exists! Did we not learn it in the kindergarten? If I have a choice, who are YOU to judge my decision? My choice in no way diminishes yours. Whew this post got under my skin, so I will stop here.

Let’s discuss, I would love to hear your thoughts on this from both sides of the coin. Which one are you, a knitter or crocheter? If you only do one of the two, do you have an issue with a person that does the other? Have you as a crocheter had a bad experience in a yarn shop? What can we as makers, as Yarnhos do to bridge the gap? See you in the comments. Do what makes you happy

http://ggmadeit.com/blog/the-great-divide-knit-vs-crochet/