#Top Woodworking Gift Ideas

[ohem1111]

here we are again, how time flies! eden is a teen and we have some things to show off. i truly have no idea how or when she got the romantic sage trait but cool lol as eden has grown up she has definitely become more and more confident, she is socially gifted with high self esteem. maybe a little toooo high because she is kind of full of herself lol but thats ok we still love her. she has been having a blast working on her knitting skill (i’ve been having her sell everything she makes on plopsy because the flea market part of the rules only works if i’m selling woodwork pieces) and cheerleading.

i went a little overboard with amount of outfits with her compared to the past 2 gens but i’m OBSESSED with them especially the first two everyday (the green jacket and jean shorts with the new fishnet shorts from love struck and the black jeans and green crop top with the lace top under it, also from love struck) and her party wear. i think they fit the exact vibe i was going for with her!

we have a new and old face to (re)introduce! first is eden’s boyfriend, dorian florez! (not totally sure if i even officially had them ask to be dating but it’s fine lol) he is demisexual and they are in an open/nonmonogamous type of relationship! (i know they are just teens but i have their story planned out already so it might seem more “adult” of them to know all of this lol i didn’t think of the actual discovery and discussion about it soon enough to include it in the story lol) he is absolutely head over heels with her, as he should be lol. they do a lot of hanging out together after school doing homework together, listening to their music together, and even just laying in bed cuddling. he is just the boy nextdoor, one of the guys but one of the good ones. eden is really lucky to have him, he keeps her grounded.

i didn’t include milo in the first round of gen 3 because i didn’t think he’d really come up much anymore but i was wrong lol he has been trying to get back into his kids and grandkids lives. his wife recently passed and the kids he had with her just moved out too so he has been in a rough spot. since eden had really experienced the man he was she is more quick to welcome him than the rest of her family.

well i think i learned my lessons to wait until the heirs are a teen to do these posts LOL i have i was just testing it out but it’s not really worth doing it before that.

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[lifeofkaze]

Owl & Eagle

Even though you're not celebrating, I want to wish you a very merry Christmas, @pathofstars! You're one of the most kind-hearted, genuine, lovely and caring people I've had the honour of meeting this past year.

Every time I see your artwork on my feed - may it be this fandom or another - it makes me smile from ear to ear, and I feel in awe of your talent. You've made me so happy with the two amazing gifts you made me, so it is only right and proper to give you something back.

I'm sorry I had to spoil the surprise early for you, but you know why.

Merry Christmas! 🎄❄️

There was a cold wind coming from the East, bringing with it the smell of snow. It blew across the frozen grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, making the dark surface of the Black Lake ripple in the afternoon sun.

Kiara Fair had no eye for the beauty of the frosty landscape below. She set her feet carefully on the stairs leading towards the Owlery, so as not to slip on the thin layer of snow covering the steps. Stopping to catch her breath, Kiara tipped her head into her neck, her eyes wandering over the long icicles hanging from the protruding roof of the tower above her. 

Shuddering at the thought of what might happen should they fall on her, Kiara clutched the bag of bird treats she was carrying tighter to her chest. Ignoring the burning in her thighs from making the long journey through the snow, she continued her way towards the top.

"What a great idea to get attached," she huffed to herself, her breath forming in front of her mouth and nose in clouds. "Perfect weather to go outside and feed a bird that's not even yours. Why stay by the cosy fireplace when you could freeze to death over some owl treats?"

Her muttering ceased as she took a quick step to pass beneath the icicles and dived into the dim half-light of the Owlery. As soon as she did, the howling East wind ceased, and quiet wrapped around her, only broken by the soft hooting of the owls and the occasional rustle of straw and feathers. 

Wary amber eyes watched Kiara from all sides as she made her way to the big table in the middle of the room, which was perpetually covered in feathers, bird food, and a thick layer of droppings. She sat her bag down onto it and softly clicked her tongue.

"Hello, it's me. Come on, I brought you something."

No sooner had she spoken than a small barn owl floated into view from up above. As it landed on the table before her, Kiara’s face split into a smile.  

"Hello, beautiful."

The owl hooted absentmindedly, curiously eyeing the bag of owl treats. Kiara chuckled to herself.

"It's alright," she said and opened the bag a little wider. "Tuck in." 

The little owl lost no time burying its beak in the sack of bird treats. Her lips still curved into a smile, Kiara watched it gulp down beak after beak of food, when suddenly a big shadow perched on the wooden beam above them caught her attention.

Directing her gaze upwards, Kiara froze. There in the woodwork, an eagle was sitting. It was looking down at them with mistrustful golden eyes, and even from a distance, Kiara could see how sharp its beak and talons were. She furtively moved to the side, and the eagle's eyes followed her, the only thing about it that seemed to be moving at all. Shuddering, Kiara’s eyes flicked between the happily munching barn owl and the bird of prey.

"Hey buddy," Kiara whispered in a cheerful but urgent voice. "Look, there's a great spot to snack over here. Let's move a little, shall we?"

The only reply she got was the rustle of the bag as the owl dipped its head back into it. Stifling a sigh, Kiara tugged on the sack of treats.

"Come on, we really need to go eat somewhere else now."

Not the slightest bit impressed with having its food taken away, the owl hooted in protest and flapped its wings. One of them hit Kiara in the face, and on instinct, she stumbled backwards. 

A stir went through the Owlery as more and more owls began to shuffle on their perches. Kiara swallowed heavily. If the owls woke, there would be chaos. She didn't want any of them to get hurt, so she had to get this eagle away from the Owlery somehow. She gave the bird of prey a stern look. 

"Shoo," she told it, her words accentuated by a wave of both her hands. "Shoo!"

Its golden eyes now fixed on her, the eagle remained right where it was. A frown crossed Kiara's face. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that it almost looked amused.

"Shoo!" she repeated, louder this time, wincing as the flutter around her intensified. The first owls were leaving their sleeping nooks and making their way outside through the openings in the walls. The eagle watched after them before returning its unnerving stare to Kiara. She gritted her teeth. 

"Shoo, I said!" she yelled, grabbing a fistful of bird treats and - under the protest of the little barn owl - hurled them at the eagle. 

Upon being hit square in the face, the eagle let out a scream that cut through Kiara's eardrums, and flapped its impressive wings. Thinking it was about to tear down on her and the little barn owl, Kiara did the first thing she could think of. She reached for her wand and pointed it at the eagle.

"Stupefy!"

The spell hit the eagle right in the chest. Its wings froze mid-motion before it went limp and dropped from its beam, hitting the ground with a dull thud. As the dust slowly settled around it, Kiara took a cautious look at the motionless bird. She inched closer, a sigh of relief leaving her lips as she saw the eagle's chest rising and falling, if only slightly.

"Hey," she said, carefully touching the bird with the tip of her boot, "it's alright. You can get up now. I'll just turn around, and you go and flutter off."

As expected, the eagle didn't react. With a jolt of worry, Kiara knelt before the animal, lifting one of its wings with her finger. When she retracted it, the wing slumped to the ground again.

"I hit it pretty hard, didn't I?" she muttered to the little barn owl, who sat perched on her shoulder and hooted in confirmation.

Reaching a resolution, Kiara scooped the eagle up into her arms. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn were out to hunt for Christmas trees and escaped Chimaeras, respectively; that left only one person capable of helping her. 

***

Professor McGonagall was in her classroom, poring over the latest assignments of her N.E.W.T class when the door crashed open and Kiara stumbled in. Her eyebrows rose over the rim of her spectacles when the flustered Ravenclaw student dropped what she had held cradled to her chest onto the laden desk. 

"Miss Fair," she said and drew a deep breath, "what is your explanation for… this?"

She pointed at the bird, whose feathers were now sprawling over the half-corrected essays. Taking a closer look at it, she paled and rose to her feet in an abrupt motion. The eagle gave a miserable squawk as she examined it. Kiara watched her quietly. If she hadn't known better, she could have sworn that McGonagall was talking to the eagle. 

"I must ask you to leave, Miss Fair," she presently said, her lips pressed together in a fine line.

"What?" Kiara spurted out, half in fear for the eagle, half in indignation at being sent away.

"This bird requires my immediate attention. Thank you for bringing it here, but there is no further reason for you to linger. Five points to Ravenclaw."

Kiara was too confused to thank her. "What are you going to do with it? Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn are somewhere on the grounds."

"Believe me when I say that I'm perfectly able to handle this bird myself."  

She pointedly looked at the door, making it clear that it was time to go. Once outside of the classroom, Kiara paused. Not feeling like returning to the Ravenclaw common room just yet, she looked around the half-lit corridor. Something gleaming on the ground by a suit of armour caught her attention. Wandering closer to inspect it, Kiara found the source of the reflection to be an old yet well-polished key. A smile of delight forming on her features, she bent to retrieve it for her collection when the door to the Transfiguration classroom opened and someone stepped outside.

The moment Talbott Winger saw her, he froze. Kiara stared at him with wide eyes, her new key momentarily forgotten.

"Winger," she said in astonishment, "where did you come from?"

"None of your business," Talbott replied curtly. He tried to push past her, but Kiara moved in his way.

"You weren't in there when I was just now," she said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you hiding?"

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"I'm not!"

They continued arguing back and forth until the door to the classroom swung open once more and Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing Talbott and Kiara, she glanced left and right before placing firm hands on both their backs and ushering them back inside. 

"What's going on, Professor? Where has Talbott come from?" As soon as she saw that the desk on the raised dais was empty, Kiara turned to Talbott with flashing eyes. "Where has the eagle gone? What have you done with it?" 

"Nothing," Talbott rolled his eyes. "Tell her that I didn't do anything," he added in McGonagall's direction, but she shook her head at him. 

"It's not my responsibility to get you out of the trouble you summoned, Mr Winger."

When it was evident that there was no support to be gained from her, Talbott raised his hands in exasperation. 

"Alright, Fair. Promise that what I'm about to tell you is going to stay within this room."

"I'm not promising anything," Kiara replied angrily. "What happened to the eagle?"

"Nothing," Talbott repeated. "The eagle is me."

Silence followed his words. Her mouth having dropped open, Kiara blinked in confusion. 

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"I can assure you, it’s not. I am the eagle. I'm an Animagus." 

Still dubious, Kiara looked Talbott up and down. Upon closer inspection, she thought his nose looked slightly swollen, a bruise forming around it right where the eagle’s beak had hit the ground. She swallowed heavily. 

"You really are an Animagus?"

Talbott nodded. "I'm not registered with the Ministry. No one but Professor McGonagall knows. And you," he added, giving Kiara a taxing look, "so don't go blaring it out to the whole school."

Kiara felt her cheeks grow hot, partly from his assumption that she would do any such thing, and partly from knowing that she didn't have anyone to tell such a secret to even if she wanted. As much to show Talbott that she wasn't intimidated by him as to push away the feeling of loneliness rising in her, Kiara crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"How does one become an Animagus anyway?"

"By performing the proper rites and spells."

"And how do you do that?"

Talbott raised an eyebrow. "Not like I'm going to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's bad enough that I had to trust you with my secret. No way that I'm going to let you share it." 

Kiara opened her mouth to protest when McGonagall cleared her throat. "Mr Winger, Miss Fair, I believe you can continue your discussion on your way back to Ravenclaw Tower. Miss Fair, I expect you to honour Mr Winger's wish to remain quiet about his… abilities. Mr Winger, you will come and see me after class tomorrow. One more thing," she added as the two of them turned to leave. "Until further notice, both of you are banned from visiting the Owlery."

Talbott and Kiara froze.

"But why?" 

"Professor!"

"I didn't even do anything!"

"I was only protecting the owls!"

"Mr Winger, you chose to transform without need despite me telling you not to. As for Miss Fair, did you really think I didn't notice I was short an owl?"

Kiara felt herself blush. "I don't know what you mean, Professor." 

"I assure you, you are neither the first student to take a liking to an animal from this classroom, nor will you be the last. Do try to refrain from coming for the ferrets next, please. There's a reason they've been banned as pets."

"But about the Owlery…"

"Good evening, Miss Fair."

Hanging their heads, Talbott and Kiara trudged from the room. They walked to their common room in silence, where they found quiet corners for themselves as far away from each other as possible.

They did their best to avoid crossing paths for the next few days, but eventually, Kiara decided that her punishment had been enough. She missed her little owl friend, and what had she done wrong, anyway? She had wanted to protect the birds, nothing more. Surely that wasn't a reason to condemn her?

When she made her way to the Owlery, at last, her spirits lifted with every step she climbed towards the top. Once she ducked through the doorway, however, her good mood vanished when she saw who was standing at the table in the middle of the room. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Talbott said, narrowing his eyes at Kiara. "You're forbidden to enter the Owlery."

"As are you," Kiara raised her chin. "I could report you to McGonagall."

"Not without admitting you were here, too."

They stared at each other until Talbott dropped his eyes. "Looks like we're both flouting our punishment. How about you go and do your stuff, I do mine, and we both pretend this never happened?"

After a moment, Kiara nodded. "Fine. But no weird tricks, you hear me?"

Talbott rolled his eyes for an answer and returned to the parchment he had been scribbling onto. Kiara turned away to find the little barn owl already sitting behind her. With a smile, she ran her hands over the owl's soft feathers, trying to ignore the scratching of Talbott's quill behind her. 

They spent several minutes in silence until Talbott eventually cleared his throat.

"Thank you for not telling anyone what you saw the other day."

Kiara didn't look up from where her fingers were resting on the owl's back. Her shoulders tensed. "No need."

"No, really. Anyone else would have shouted it from the rooftops, or told their friends, at least."

"I'm not like anyone else."

"Not a gossip, you mean?"

"Not a person with friends." 

Her snappy reply was met with silence. Talbott nodded his head.

"I see."

When he didn't continue, Kiara raised her brows. "That's all you have to say?"

"What more is there? You're a loner, just like me. Nice to know there's others who prefer not to be babbled at all day." 

Despite herself, Kiara's lips curved into a smile, albeit a small one.

"I guess so." 

When Kiara packed up her things and made her way to the exit, Talbott sighed and called her back.

"Hey Fair, wait. Did you really mean what you said about wanting to be an Animagus?" 

Kiara frowned. "Of course."

"I could show you if you like."

"Really?" Kiara called out, her mouth suddenly dry. She must have spoken louder than she had realised because the little barn owl almost tripped over its own two feet. Talbott pulled a face. 

"Lesson number one - don't screech at me like a rabid owl. Once I have everything we need, I'll contact you."

He answered a few more of Kiara's questions, and by the time she was ready to leave, she was giddy with excitement. As she was about to pass through the doorway, Talbott called after her.

"Just so you know, it's not going to be easy. I hope you're not afraid of a challenge."

Kiara flashed him a grin over her shoulder. "Here’s a lesson for you, Winger. I'm never afraid of a challenge."  

[tayo-na]

Project Updates~

Okay, so I have so many different projects going all at once right now because I was diagnosed with Cool Guy Syndrome, so now I take something similar to Adderall.  Anyway!  I’m going to split this into three groups: started, need to start, and planning to in the future.

Started:

The cross stitch I’ve been working for forever on for my Grandma.  I’m so nearing the end, like, I can almost taste the finish line.  Alls I have left to do is the opposite stitch for the sky part of it.  Oh, and fill in the yellow roses.  But there aren’t all that many of those, so essentially it’s just the sky I have to focus on.

Sanding down my night side table.  The goal is to sand it and re-stain it because I’ve tried to do it before, but I had not the patience for it as a young teenager.  It’s amazing how hard it is to change old habits, because I’m also finding the patience for this hard.  However, I eventually want to take a stab at woodworking, so I need to develop the patience for it now.

I started a patch quilt with old sweatshirts from high school, an old set of winter pajamas (of which the fabric is quite fuzzy, so it’s flaking off everywhere it touches, unfortunately for me), and another old pair of plaid pajama pants.  I had some smaller blocks of, like, that kind of felt fabric, the one you’d use to make those knotted blankets with.  Sos I also trimmed those down, and added them to the bunch.  The individual square sizes I’m making are 2″x2″, and I’m assuming when they’re all sewn together, an individual square will be 1.5″x1.5″ or 1.75″x1.75″.  It all depends on how these shake out when I’m done cutting them up.

I started a crochet ombre dark blue beanie for one of my close friends, and I ideally would like to send it to her before October rolls around.  I’m probably, like, 3/4 of the way done.  I just get so bored sometimes with the monotony of the same thing over and over again, so doing the rounds to finish it off is killing me softly.

I had, a couple years ago, started a crochet blanket made with that Bernat fluffy yarn but I still have a ways a ways to go on it.  The plan was to have it in three sections: off-white, this grey and like cream color, and then off-white again.  But I still have yet to even get to the grey and cream color.

I also had, a couple years ago, started a scarf made of the smaller balls of yarn I had and couldn’t think of a use for.  I have, since then, completely unraveled it and started from the top again due to yarn size discrepancies which made my scarf look like a wobbly river.  I actually do like knitting, but I’ve only recently learned how to… purl?  I’m not sure if that’s exactly the stitch I’m doing, but the way it comes out makes the piece ribbed when I do the backwards of the regular knit stitch.  So I’ll take it.

Need to Start:

Embroidery of Gayle Waters-Waters from GAYLE.  It’s a miniseries on YouTube done by Chris Fleming.  The episodes last no longer than ten minutes, and are usually below that anyways.  I want to do an embroidery of Gayle’s Iconic Expression with the phrase “What Would Gayle Waters-Waters Do?” around it.  It’s a very insanely belated Christmas gift for one of my IRL best friends, and is now also a belated birthday gift for her.

Cross-stitch for one of my other IRL best friends.  A similar gift situation as above.  She was a psych major before she graduated, and also took a horseback riding course in her penultimate semester.  My idea is to have a pillow that says “Only Freudian horsegirls get it.”  And in the negative space have a pair of horseshoes and a tobacco pipe there.  She’ll hate it, and I can’t wait!

Another birthday embroidery gift for an IRL friend, but his birthday has yet to pass.  He unfortunately shares a birthday with a notorious date in September, so my goal is to finish it before then.  I call him “Thornbird”, so I’ve got an idea regarding a sort-of blobby Loggerhead Shrike sitting on a branch. Under the branch is a thistle flower, and crawling up the sides are thistle leaves.  His favorite plant and a bird, just like my Grandma’s gift, lmao.

I promised my family socks this past Christmas.  My goal is to also get them done before October so we can have a chance to enjoy them, potentially.  I have super cute sock yarn for them and everything.

Planning to Start:

About a year ago, while I was moving from one state to another, I had taken apart one of my old dresses that I had gotten from Old Navy God knows how long ago.  My idea was to make it a two-piece set.  The top is a crop top and the bottom stays a skirt.  I plan on using denim as the hem for the crop top and the waist for the skirt.  It’s rather ambitious for me, since the most I’ve done regarding clothes is patching holes and light embroidery.  But I’m determined to do it because I did love that dress a lot.

I had a set of penguin pajamas when I was a teenager that I no longer fit into, but I love the pattern so much.  So, I want to turn it into a skirt.  This one is the really ambitious idea because it involves pleats, pockets, and the pleats are ideally two-toned, with the outside facing bit the penguins, and the inside is this dark blue with small white dots cotton that I don’t even remember where I picked it up from.  But I think it’d be super cute if I can manage to figure it out.  I’m planning on doing a mock-up of it for Reginald, the bunny I made at Build-a-Bear on a whim because I saw that there were DC costumes for the stuffed animals.  I originally wanted him to wear the Flash’s outfit, but the store I went to didn’t have it, so I substituted for Batman.  Long tangent, but I’ll probably do a little one with spare fabric to see how it’d work and if I’d be able to actually pull it off.  It’d sure be cool if I could.

I feel like there are other things I want to do/am currently doing, but my brain is tired.  And given that it’s almost five in the morning, I’m not overly surprised.  But yeah!  These are the current works for me right now  :D

[thomasdreschwoodworks]

Unleash Your Creativity: Discover the Joy of Woodworking with Thomas Dresch Woodworks

Woodworking is more than just a hobby; it's an art form that allows individuals to unleash their creativity and create stunning pieces that stand the test of time. At Thomas Dresch Woodworks, we understand the passion and satisfaction that comes with working with wood. That's why we're dedicated to providing premium supplies and equipment to help you bring your woodworking visions to life.

Craftsmanship is at the heart of everything we do. From hand-selecting the finest wood to curating a collection of top-quality tools and accessories, we ensure that every aspect of your woodworking experience is of the highest caliber. Whether you're a seasoned professional or just starting out, our products and expertise are here to support your journey.

One of the things that sets Thomas Dresch Woodworks apart is our commitment to offering unique and specialized supplies. We understand that every woodworking project is different, which is why we carry an extensive range of woods, finishes, and hardware to suit a variety of styles and preferences. Whether you're crafting furniture, carving intricate designs, or building cabinets, you'll find everything you need to bring your ideas to fruition.

But it's not just about the products; it's about the experience. When you choose to work with us, you're not just buying supplies – you're joining a community of passionate woodworkers who share your love for the craft. Our team is comprised of knowledgeable experts who are always on hand to offer guidance, advice, and inspiration. We believe that woodworking is as much about learning and growing as it is about creating, and we're here to support you every step of the way.

At Thomas Dresch Woodworks, we believe that the true joy of woodworking lies in the process of creation. There's nothing quite like the feeling of transforming a raw piece of wood into a beautiful, one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Whether you're crafting a piece for your home, giving a gift to a loved one, or simply indulging in a creative outlet, woodworking offers a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction that is unmatched by any other hobby.

So why wait? Join us today and experience the joy of woodworking for yourself. Whether you're a seasoned pro or a complete beginner, there's never been a better time to start creating something truly special. With Thomas Dresch Woodworks, the possibilities are endless – and the satisfaction is guaranteed.

For more info :-

Thomas Dresch Woodworks

Thomas Dresch Woodworks LLC

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[giftcarnation23]

Father's Day Gifts: Top Unique Presents to Show Dad You Care

Father's Day marks an extraordinary event to honor the paternal figures in our existence and exhibit the depth of our regard for them. One of the most exemplary methods to articulate gratitude is through thoughtful tokens that mirror their passions and personas. Regardless of whether your father exhibits an inclination towards technology, embraces outdoor escapades, or values individualized gestures, there exist a plethora of distinct gift concepts to render this Father's Day etched in memory.

Importance of Father's Day Gifts

Father's Day gifts are more than just material possessions; they symbolize love, gratitude, and recognition for the sacrifices and support that dads provide. A well-chosen gift can convey heartfelt sentiments and strengthen the bond between father and child.

Understanding Dad's Preferences

Before selecting a Father's Day gift, it's essential to consider your dad's preferences and hobbies. Understanding his interests will help you choose a present that resonates with him and showcases your thoughtfulness.

Personalized Gifts

For dads who appreciate sentimental gestures, personalized gifts are an excellent choice. Consider items like custom engraved watches, photo albums, or monogrammed accessories that add a personal touch to his everyday life.

Tech Gadgets

Tech-savvy dads will appreciate cutting-edge gadgets that enhance their daily routines. From smart home devices like voice-activated assistants and security cameras to the latest smartphones or fitness trackers, there's a wide range of tech gifts to suit every budget.

Outdoor Gear

If your dad enjoys spending time outdoors, consider gifts that cater to his adventurous spirit. Camping hammock sets, durable hiking gear, or portable grills are practical options that will enhance his outdoor experiences and create lasting memories.

DIY Kits

For creative dads who enjoy hands-on projects, DIY kits offer a fun and interactive gift idea. Choose from brewing kits for craft beer enthusiasts, woodworking sets for DIY enthusiasts, or gourmet cooking kits for culinary enthusiasts.

Top Unique Presents for Father's Day

Custom Engraved Watch A custom engraved watch is a classic gift that blends style and personality. Engrave a special message or his initials on the watch to create a one-of-a-kind keepsake he'll cherish for years to come.

Smart Home Devices Upgrade your dad's home with smart devices that simplify everyday tasks and enhance convenience. Consider options like smart speakers, thermostats, or lighting systems that allow him to control his environment with ease.

Camping Hammock Set Give your dad the gift of relaxation with a camping hammock set that allows him to unwind in nature. Whether he's camping, hiking, or simply lounging in the backyard, a comfortable hammock provides the perfect retreat.

Brewing Kit For dads who appreciate craft beer, a brewing kit is a unique gift that allows him to create his own brews at home. Choose a starter kit with all the necessary equipment and ingredients to kick-start his brewing journey.

Budget-Friendly Gift Ideas

Meaningful gifts do not have to cost a lot. Here are some budget-friendly Father's Day gift ideas that are sure to make a lasting impression:

Handmade Cards Put your creativity to the test by crafting a handmade card filled with heartfelt messages and memories.

Memory Scrapbook Compile photographs, ticket stubs, and mementos from special moments shared with your dad into a personalized scrapbook.

Cooking Class Vouchers Treat your dad to a culinary adventure with cooking class vouchers that allow him to learn new recipes and techniques from professional chefs.

Conclusion

This Father's Day, endeavor to traverse the extra mile in evoking to your father the depth of your regard with a thoughtful and distinctive token. Whether it materializes as a personalized memento, cutting-edge gadgetry, or outdoor expedition gear, the superlative tokens are those resonating with his fascinations and persona. Celebrate the unique bond shared and engender enduring reminiscences poised to be cherished across the ages.

[newbusinessideas]

10 Best Profitable CNC Business Ideas -That You Can Start Today

Hey there! 👋 Want to dive into the world of CNC business? 💼 Check out these Top 10 Small Business Ideas with CNC Machine! From custom furniture to personalized gifts, there's something for everyone. 🔥CLICK LINK for the full list #CNCBusinessIdeas

In today’s dynamic business landscape, leveraging cutting-edge technology is paramount for success. One such technology that has revolutionized the manufacturing industry is the CNC (Computer Numerical Control) machine. CNC machines have revolutionized various industries with their ability to automate and execute complex tasks with exceptional accuracy. From woodworking to metalworking, the…

[pets12pets]

The Top DIY Woodworking Projects for Beginners

Woodworking is an ancient craft that has stood the test of time, evolving and adapting to fit the needs and desires of modern society. And while it may seem intimidating at first, it is a skill that can be mastered by anyone with patience, determination, and the right guidance. DIY woodworking projects not only allow individuals to customize their own furniture and decor, but also provide a sense of accomplishment and pride in creating something with their own hands. However, for those just starting out on their woodworking journey, it can be overwhelming to know where to begin. That's why we have compiled a list of the top DIY woodworking projects for beginners. These projects are not only perfect for honing your skills but also serve as a great starting point for building your confidence and inspiring new ideas. From simple home decor pieces to functional furniture, we will guide you through step-by-step instructions and provide valuable tips to help you achieve success in your woodworking endeavors. So whether you're looking to pick up a new hobby or enhance your existing woodworking skills, read on to discover the top DIY woodworking projects for beginners.

Basic woodworking skills for beginners

As a beginner in woodworking, it's important to start with the basics. This includes learning how to safely use tools, understanding different types of wood and their properties, and mastering fundamental techniques like measuring, cutting, and sanding. These skills will not only help you complete your first few projects successfully, but they will also serve as a strong foundation for more advanced woodworking skills in the future. It may seem overwhelming at first, but with practice and dedication, you'll be surprised at how quickly you can develop your skills and create beautiful, functional pieces. Remember to always prioritize safety and take your time to ensure accuracy in your work. With these basic woodworking skills in your toolkit, you'll be well on your way to becoming a confident and skilled woodworker.

Crafting a simple wooden shelf

One of the most practical and useful projects for beginners in woodworking is crafting a simple wooden shelf. This project allows beginners to practice their measuring, cutting, and sanding skills, as well as learn how to assemble and finish a basic piece of furniture. With the right tools and materials, even those with limited experience can successfully create a functional and stylish wooden shelf. This project also offers room for creativity and personalization, allowing beginners to experiment with different wood types, finishes, and designs. By following step-by-step instructions and taking the time to carefully measure and cut, beginners can create a beautiful and practical addition to their home.

Building a sturdy workbench

Another essential project for beginners in woodworking is building a sturdy workbench. A workbench is a must-have for any woodworking enthusiast, as it provides a stable and secure surface to work on. It also offers storage space for tools and materials, making it a practical addition to any workshop. When building a workbench, it is important to choose strong and durable materials, such as hardwood or plywood, and to properly reinforce the structure for stability. With the right tools and techniques, beginners can create a sturdy workbench that will serve as a reliable and useful workspace for years to come.

Creating a custom picture frame

One of the most fun and creative woodworking projects for beginners is creating a custom picture frame. This project allows you to showcase your woodworking skills and personalize a piece of decor for your home or as a gift for someone else. With the right tools and techniques, you can easily create a beautiful and unique frame that will add a special touch to any room. Plus, the materials for this project are relatively inexpensive, making it a great option for those just starting out in woodworking. So grab your tools and get ready to create a one-of-a-kind piece that will impress your friends and family.

Constructing a wooden storage box.

Another great project for woodworking beginners is constructing a wooden storage box. This project not only allows you to practice basic woodworking skills, but it also serves a practical purpose. A wooden storage box can be used to store anything from tools to toys and can be customized to fit your specific needs and preferences. With the right measurements and materials, you can easily create a sturdy and functional storage box that will last for years to come. Plus, the skills and techniques you learn from this project can be applied to more complex woodworking projects in the future.

Designing a stylish wooden cutting board.

Another great woodworking project for beginners is designing a stylish wooden cutting board. With just a few pieces of wood and some basic tools, you can create a functional and aesthetically pleasing cutting board for your kitchen. This project allows for creativity and customization, as you can choose the type of wood, shape, and size of the cutting board. It also requires the use of basic woodworking techniques such as measuring, cutting, and sanding, making it a great way to develop your skills. Plus, a handmade wooden cutting board adds a personal touch to your kitchen and makes a great gift for friends and family.

Crafting a rustic wooden lamp

Another great project for beginners is crafting a rustic wooden lamp. This project will not only teach you basic woodworking skills, but it will also result in a functional and stylish piece of decor for your home. To create a rustic look, you can use reclaimed wood or distress new wood with staining and sanding techniques. This project will also introduce you to wiring and electrical work, making it a valuable learning experience. Plus, with the option to add a unique lampshade, you can truly make this project your own.

Building a functional bookshelf

Another popular project for beginners in woodworking is building a functional bookshelf. This project not only teaches basic woodworking skills such as measuring, cutting, and assembling but also allows for creativity in design and customization. A bookshelf is a practical and useful addition to any home, and building one from scratch allows for a sense of accomplishment and pride in creating something both functional and aesthetically pleasing. With the right tools and materials, a functional bookshelf can be built in a relatively short amount of time, making it a great project for beginners to tackle.

Creating a personalized wooden sign

Another great project for beginners in woodworking is creating a personalized wooden sign. This project allows for creativity and customization, as well as practice using basic tools and techniques. Whether you want to make a welcoming sign for your home or a unique gift for a friend, a personalized wooden sign is a fun and satisfying project to take on. You can choose the type of wood, design, and finish to match your style and skill level. Plus, it's a great way to add a personal touch to your home decor or gift-giving. With some basic tools and materials, you can easily create a beautiful and unique wooden sign to display proudly.

Constructing a sturdy wooden coffee table.

Another great beginner woodworking project is constructing a sturdy wooden coffee table. This project will not only test your skills with more advanced tools and techniques but also provide a practical and useful piece of furniture for your home. To begin, choose a type of wood that is strong and durable, such as oak or maple. Measure and cut the wood to the desired size and shape, making sure to leave room for the legs and any additional features like a shelf or drawers. Then, using a combination of screws and wood glue, assemble the pieces together, making sure to reinforce any joints. Finally, sand and finish the table to your desired look, and voila, you have a beautiful and functional coffee table that you can be proud to say you made yourself.

In conclusion, woodworking is a fulfilling and rewarding hobby that can also save you money in the long run. With the right tools, materials, and knowledge, anyone can create beautiful and functional pieces for their home. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced woodworker, the projects listed above are great options to start with. So gather your supplies, roll up your sleeves, and get ready to unleash your creativity and talent through these top DIY woodworking projects. Happy crafting!

FAQ

What are some easy DIY woodworking projects that beginners can try?

Some easy DIY woodworking projects for beginners include building a simple bookshelf, making a wooden picture frame, crafting a wooden serving tray, constructing a small storage box, or creating a wooden plant stand. These projects usually require basic tools such as a saw, drill, and sander and can be completed with relatively simple woodworking techniques like measuring, cutting, and assembling pieces of wood. They provide a great opportunity for beginners to practice their skills and gain confidence in woodworking.

How can beginners get started with woodworking, and what tools do they need?

Beginners can get started with woodworking by first gaining knowledge through books, online tutorials, or joining beginner-friendly woodworking classes. They should start with simple projects like a cutting board or small shelf to develop basic skills. Essential tools for beginners include a measuring tape, a circular saw or miter saw, a chisel set, a combination square, a power drill, and a set of clamps. As their skills progress, they can gradually add more tools, such as a table saw, a router, and various hand tools, to their collection. It's important to prioritize safety and always wear protective gear while working with woodworking tools.

Are there any specific safety precautions beginners should take when working with wood?

Yes, beginners working with wood should take several safety precautions. These include wearing protective gear such as safety glasses, ear protection, and appropriate clothing. It is also important to use sharp and well-maintained tools to minimize the risk of accidents. Beginners should take their time and focus on their work, avoiding distractions. Additionally, it is crucial to have a clean and well-organized workspace to prevent tripping hazards. Lastly, beginners should familiarize themselves with proper techniques and seek guidance from experienced woodworkers to ensure safe practices.

What are some common mistakes beginners make when attempting woodworking projects?

Some common mistakes beginners make in woodworking projects include not measuring accurately, not using the right tools or techniques for the task at hand, rushing the process, not sanding or finishing properly, and not following the plans or instructions closely. Additionally, beginners often struggle with not having a proper understanding of wood grain and not using clamps or supports to hold pieces in place securely. Overall, it is important for beginners to take their time, be patient, and learn from their mistakes in order to improve their woodworking skills.

Can you recommend any online resources or tutorials for beginners interested in woodworking?

Yes, there are several online resources and tutorials available for beginners interested in woodworking. Some popular options include websites like the Woodworkers Guild of America, Wood Magazine, and The Wood Whisperer, which offer a variety of instructional videos, articles, and project plans. YouTube channels such as Steve Ramsey's Woodworking for Mere Mortals and Jay Bates' Jay Bates 2 also provide step-by-step tutorials and tips for beginners. Additionally, websites like Instructables and Do It Yourself offer user-generated content and project ideas for woodworking enthusiasts of all skill levels.

[positiveshine1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWT Handcrafted Charcuterie Cutting Board, Cherry & Maple, High End, Quality.

[selfishwife]

Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace

My brother B once said days are hard when you feel every emotion in 24 hours, and I'm there. The rage, the sadness, the attempts to be still and "enjoy the good moments." The need to keep my house literally in order, take care of my kids, dealing with my spouse's ping-pong emotions, working. Little victories are constatntly squashed down.

I've recently narrowed down something important -- people are petty or people are graceful. From where I sit, those are the parameters. Sure, everything is a spectrum, but the people who show up are the people who show up, and it's not always who you expect. That's a wonderful gift. Luckily your ride or dies are there, but the people who have come out of the woodwork, whether it be at work, my community, etc, has blown my mind. I don't want to seem ungrateful for it. But my heart is so full of the negative I can't seem to breathe.

In part, this is because those that don't show up also try to push you down. They tell you a story that's inappropriate, they make what's happening to my family about them. They push their pain onto you, or their desire to be "most martyred." Don't get me wrong, I don't want or need the world's sympathy, I just don't want bullshit. The pain I feel is so overwhelming that I don't have room for the stuff I can normally roll my eyes at or laugh off. It sits on top of me like a stone, resting atop the boulder that's already on my chest. It's impossible to move past the small things and paralyzes me.

Yesterday my backyard neighbor, with who up to now we've had a friendly relationship, called our town about some water seepage in their backyard. Part of it relates to us, and part of it doesn't. It's occurring behind our garage, where we can't see it. I'm neighborly to a fault, and I hate the idea of someone's home not working because of us. But they chose not to come over and tell us, and not work it out. Instead, I had a note on my front door to call the village and find out who had tattled on me. It fucking hurt my heart, and after going to talk about it the homeowner was a huge bitch. It's not worth getting into here, but the whole thing was so unnecessary.

This "tattling" has happened at my work lately too. Luckily I haven't been in the crosshairs (thank you, Cancer Card!) but some good friends have. It all stems from this idea that tattling absolves people of personal responsibility and ownership. Adults engage in dialogue, not hiding behind smokescreens of anonymous accusations. The truth gets out anyway, and then there's just awkwardness.

I guess I'm trying to say is there is no patience or grace anymore. This line comes from the Foo Fighters' song Home, and in it, my BFF Dave is trying to find his way home, despite obstacles of being on the road, etc. It's all "let's blame others, let's not look inward." I'm the first person to admit I'm not perfect. There are a zillion things I could do to be a better human being. But despite everything, I try. I try my best to listen to people. I try my best to bring things to people's attention, even when it's hard. On top of everything else, I don't want to be the punching bag for another person's insecurities. Not that anyone else does.

[danielkane]

The Top 25 Woodworking Presents For Your Craftsman Dad

The papa bear in your life deserves a big celebration this year. And because he is the best father in the world, you want to offer him a sentimental memento. Then you've found the right post, thank you! The best gift to make him feel like the luckiest dad in the world is one that has been customised.

For your father, who enjoys working with wood, we have compiled a list of more than 20 intriguing goods. The majority of them are tools for manufacturing wood, which allows him to complete his work much more quickly and conveniently than in the past.

These are some tools that the blog staff believes are excellent picks for Dad's woodworking to stay motivated! Describe your feelings towards your favorite craftsman. Father's Day presents a unique opportunity to show your dad how much you value him and his love of woodworking. We can assist you if you are having trouble finding a gift that is related to woodworking. You'll be satisfied and discover the ideal gift for your dad with the help of our suggestions. He undoubtedly enjoys your gift and values the careful planning and real love that went into it.

Whether you're looking for a gift for his birthday, Christmas, or Father's Day, this list of presents will provide you with the ideas you need to make this year's gift more memorable. Enjoy!

Here are the top woodworking presents for your skilled father.

Read more: https://avada.io/loveable/woodworking-gifts-dad/

[cruzloveable]

Here Are The Top 25 Woodworking-Related Gifts You Can Get Your Father

You should make a big deal out of this year for the papa bear in your life. And that's why you should honor him as the best dad ever with a token of your deepest gratitude. You've found the right thread then! A unique, handcrafted present will make him feel like the luckiest dad alive.

For your dad, who clearly has a passion for working with wood, we have compiled over twenty unique gifts. They are mostly woodworking tools that make his job easier and more efficient.

The site staff recommends the following items to keep Dad's woodworking passion alive and well: Give some proof of your appreciation to your favorite woodworker. Gifting dad something that speaks to his love in woodworking is a unique way to celebrate Father's Day and show him how much you care. We're here to assist you in your search for woodworking-related gift items if you're having a hard time finding what to get as a present. Use these suggestions to choose the perfect present for your dad and give him the joy of receiving it. He will adore the thoughtfulness and care you put into the gift you gave him.

This gift guide will provide you all the ideas you need to choose the perfect present for him this year, whether it's a birthday present, a Christmas present, or a Father's Day present. Enjoy!

Read more : https://avada.io/loveable/woodworking-gifts-dad/

[apexulansis]

“Needles are too small,” Ardaka cajoled, giving her the same teasing grin. He didn’t press it, but it was obvious he was still thinking the same thing. He did, however, reach out an arm to wrap around Vin's back.

“Yeah. He was a woodworker’s kid. It was a— thank you gift. Turns out wearing wood on your face isn’t the best idea though. Least not when it’s still flammable.”

He laughed under his breath. “Most places would hate a kariian. For obvious reasons. When we show up to a planet, it usually doesn't mean anything good.” Usually mass kidnapping. Or total destruction of the nearby tech.

“This was — different. The midoans that first came here—” Ardaka looked at her with an intent stare, clearly thinking on the similarities of their first meeting. “They weren't willing. Even less willing than you. I was already there a few decades, and I studied your species in the Plaguelands long before, so... I didn't want to do nothing. I don't think I could have stopped myself from trying to help. A recurring habit of mine, it seems.” He pulled her in closer, and leaned in to press his mouth against the top of her head. “Rescuing plucky little midoans from slavers. Huh. Some things never change.”

Vin turned and gave him a look — he knew the one, where she could have gone blind a hundred times over for how far her eyes rolled back in her skull.

"Our teeth aren't that tiny. They're just tiny compared to yours." She sniffed, her scowl disdainful. "We can't help that we're not literally made of needles, like you are."

She scooted a little closer, though she held off from crawling right up next to Ardaka like she usually did. "Huh. Sounds like you guys were real good friends if he made you a mask." She considered him a moment. "Come to think of it, you never really told me how you started hanging out in a place like Little Mido in the first place. I thought they didn't like outsiders that much around here."

She laughed. "I know for sure they woulda hated you back home."

[highqualitywoodworkingplans]

Top Woodworking Gift Ideas

There is possibly no better saying than, "Treasured are the gifts from the heart." How do you show someone that you truly care for them? You put your thoughts, time, energy, and most of all your love into a handmade gift. Click Here to read the article

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

i have a mad thomas x reader request where reader is forced to marry thomas (idk how just-) and is disgusted about it but eventually ends up liking him.(? idk how to explain myself:’)

No one look at me,,,,,,,,,,also this is heavily inspired by the Scarlet Letter and was supposed to be a tad darker but I copped out (also someone asked for a pregnant reader recently so this + that = this fic)

A Lie They Would Believe (Mad Thomas x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: dark themes, 1600 standards, values, and laws, affairs/cheating, ex-relationship with the pastor is mentioned, Thomas is Thomas, mentions of drinking, webs of lies, public humiliation, AFAB and Fem reader, pregnant reader, pre-marital pregnancy solved a la shotgun marriage, twisted win-win situation turns into love?, slow burn(?),

Word Count: 3.7k

You could accept your punishment with a turned cheek, you told yourself over and over again.

You could stare out at the audience of towns people, even as the sun beat on your face. You could stare out into the angry faces of the elders, into the pitying faces of your friends. Into the ashamed faces of your parents. But, you could not look at Cyrus Miller.

You'd missed your blood two months ago. You'd begged, prayed, everyday that it would come. But, the only thing that came was the morning sickness. You'd tried to hide it, tried to think of what to do. But, when you placed your hand over your stomach, you couldn't bring yourself to find the hag in the forest. And, when your mother held your spotless, white sheets in your face, you'd crumbled. You confessed in the privacy of your room as if you were confessing in church. You told her everything.

Well, almost.

"Tell us his name!" Cyrus said, a voice that you couldn't force to fall into the background. "Tell us the name of your accomplice and you shall suffer no more." He said, and you wanted to believe him. You let your eyes close for a moment, but your lips did not move. Your mouth did not open. "Tell us the father's name, so that your baby will not be born a bastard!" He said, and his hand reached out to grab your arm. His grip was strong and tight, unlike the caresses you'd become so accustomed to with him. While his words begged you to say the name, his name, the action spoke differently. You peeled open your eyes and looked up at him, at his raven hair and kind face. His dark, soft eyes. Tears pricked the corners of your own eyes, hard and glassy as you looked up at him. But, you were silent. Even as some of the townspeople yelled for you to confess.

But, how could you tell them that it was your persecutor who was the father of your child? That your pastor, the leader of this town, had sinned so egregiously? He had a wife, a daughter. You'd known both of those things when you'd fallen for him, but it was harder to ignore in the harsh sunlight. When both of them stood in front of you.

You knew you'd have to face punishment. Sex before marriage was a crime after all, completely forbidden. To think they didn't know you were an adulterer also. You didn't know what it'd be, but you knew you'd have no option but to accept it when it came. You'd already made your peace with it, made your peace with whatever God could condemn you to. Perhaps, you'd have to live alone, wear a scarlet letter on your breast. Perhaps, they'd cast you out completely, and you'd be shunned. Perhaps, they'd hang you. You touched your stomach at that thought. Perhaps, there were certain punishments you couldn't bear.

Your lips only fell open when a voice yelled,

"It was I." And a gasp fell from your mouth. Your head turned, snapped towards the voice. Towards the sea of faces that was the crowd. But, you knew that voice. "It's my child." He said, and your eyes fell on a face you knew all too well. And, at that moment, you knew exactly what type of punishment God had set out for you.

Mad Thomas.

***

The day had gone by in a blur.

Over and over in your head, one question repeated itself. Why? It was almost loud enough to drown out the constant whispers, the stories being spun by every person who seemed to have a tongue.

Union couldn't seem to stop talking about it. Of when it started, how long it'd been going on, when the pair of you had even had time to sneak off. You'd even heard a young Constance Berman whisper about how she'd always known something was going on between the two of you, only to be shushed by her older sister as you passed. As you'd been let free of the top of the church steps.

You'd been left outside, left out in the sun. Inside the church went your father, the pastor, and Thomas. You had no idea what Thomas was going to say, what lies he was going to spin.

You couldn't bring yourself to leave, to speak. You felt as though a blanket of white noise had covered your ears, covered your mind. You were surprised, to say the least. You'd thought a wave of devastation had washed over you the first moment you'd realized you were with child, but this? It made it seem like ripples in a pond. The only thing you could do was stare at the church door and wait for them to come out. But, you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist and you turned to see the face of your mother.

"Come," She said, and you looked back at the door blankly. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to be there when they came out. But, you couldn't find the words to say or the strength to keep your feet firm. So, you let her guide you away from the crowd, and towards your house.

It was only later that you were told you and Thomas were to be married by the end of the month.

***

You and Thomas were never allowed a moment alone. You didn't know whether to be relieved or not, but Thomas, a man who you quickly found was far more confusing than you thought, was playing a charade. He brought you flowers, carried your water pail for you, and even took you on chaperoned walks. You, however, were stony and stiff, barely able to contain your disgust for him. It was on your first walk that you whispered,

"Why? Why are you doing this?" And, for a moment, the incorrigible man seemed to pretend not to hear you. He glanced over his shoulder, as if the wind was at his ear instead, and you saw him cast a sly glance to the man behind them. It was one of your father's friends, walking only about two yards behind you. Finally, when he decided he was far away enough, he responded,

"Would you rather I had let them cast you out? Let you and your child starve in the woods?" Thomas said back, the most sober you'd ever heard him. It seemed that apart of your father's deal with him was that he cut back on the drink. He didn't even stumble as he walked.

"Don't pretend you did this out of charity. Why, Thomas?" You asked, and you, for only a moment, reached out to touch his arm. You pulled it back just as quick, hoping that your chaperone hadn't seen. Thomas looked down at the action, before he smirked and shook his head.

"Aren't we a perfect match?" He asked, and you gave him a look of confusion. He continued with, "You think I don't know what people say about me? Don't you see, girl? It doesn't matter if your father is the best woodworker, or the richest in Union anymore. No one would have you, or your bastard child. Except me." He said, and you almost couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He continued, his words a whisper now, "Besides, it's a lie they would believe." You stared at him, flabbergasted by his words. Flabbergasted by how right he was.

Thomas had, well, a reputation. It wasn't out of character for his wedding to be one out of necessity, and perhaps it earned you some pity from the townspeople. How many women had Thomas seduced? And how many of them could truly judge you? Not to mention, his words left one thing clear.

So, it was my dowry, you thought. It wasn't an unheard of reason, and it made sense given the man you were talking to. Your father had been avoiding selling you off, even as you reached far into your womanhood. And, surely, your father would never have considered him under any normal circumstance, but now...You didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Thomas paused, picking up one of the wildflowers and handing it to you. You took it, knowing now that you had to play along. That you had to act as if he truly was the father of your child, and not someone as foreign to you as the land outside of Union.

"Your father was going to start building us a house. I was thinking right here," Thomas said, his voice only slightly louder for the chaperone to hear, but you barely paid attention. You were staring down at the yellow flower in your hands, before you glanced up at the man in front of you.

He was tall, but his hair was lighter. His cheeks were stubbly and his eyes- They were a clear blue. Almost the same shade as the sky above you. You watched as he talked, as he laid out his plan. And, while the idea of being married to anyone that you didn't love sickened you, you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn't be as terrible as you felt it would be.

***

You and Thomas sat out in the sun, where you were making a flower crown and he was rambling about one thing or the other. You'd gotten very good at pretending to be in love, even in the span of only a couple of weeks.

You gave him smiles and laughter, and he gave you gifts or stole a caress. It was enough to stir the people of Union so no one would be the wiser. And, with your father at his station a short way across the field, the pair of you could be somewhat alone. But, still within viewing distance.

"You're not listening." Thomas said, and you smiled to yourself for a moment. You looked at the finished crown, before you looked up and reached over to where he was laying on the blanket. He was half-sitting up, and you placed the flower crown atop his head as you said,

"Yes, I was." You replied simply as you adjusted it, and Thomas stared at you and gave a small scoff. He caught your hand as you went to pull it away, his grip loose. He held it almost gently, and said,

"Then kiss me." And your brows drew together. A quick,

"What?" Fell from your lips, and you watched how Thomas smiled. He laughed, letting your hand go as he said,

"So, you weren't listening-" But you were quick to interrupt him.

"Why would- Why?" The idea- the simple idea was preposterous. Why would you kiss him? In broad daylight no less? The suggestion made you nervous, made a weird feeling start in your stomach. And, you ignored how this feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

"They're going to expect us to kiss on our wedding day, girl. Shouldn't we have some practice?" He said, and you thought perhaps the first time he proposed it had been kinder. You stared at him, thinking over his words. Thomas waited, reaching out to touch your skirt. It was only to pick at it for a moment, before he drew his hand away.

You couldn't tell if that was the only reason Thomas wanted to kiss you, if there wasn't some ulterior motive somewhere. You wouldn't put it past him. But, really, he was right. Not to mention, while the pair of you had been affectionate, had you been affectionate enough?

That's what was so aggravating about Thomas. He was always right. He saw clear through whatever facade anyone put up, and saw the truth. Perhaps, that's why he was such a good liar.

Perhaps, that's why he was staring at you.

"Fine." You said, before you looked over your shoulder. You were in the field, but you were more or less a public spectacle. You could hear Thomas draw closer, feel the warmth of his hand reach for your arm.

"Let them look." He said as he gave a tug on your arm, and you turned back to face him. It was strange to hear him say that, such a stark difference from what you were used to. To have him so close was different than before, but Thomas didn't close the gap. You supposed he was waiting for you to do that. He whispered, "Well?" And, finally, you did. It was a short kiss, a quick stolen one. Still, it made Thomas smile. "So chaste." He let out a small laugh, and it was your turn to scoff. "Are you sure-" And you could guess what he was going to say. You kissed him again, if only to silence him. It was deeper, firmer than your last had been. And you hated to admit that you didn't hate it. Thomas was well-practiced, and the feeling of his thumb grazing your cheek was nearly as warm as the feeling of the sun on your back. It made another feeling start, one that you tried to stamp out that very second. You pulled away again, cutting it short. Thomas, for just a moment, tried to follow you before he pulled back. He had a small smile on his face, one he didn't try to hide as he pushed his hair back.

"You're practiced." You said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you could give him. You'd heard rumors of him galavanting with the likes of Abbi Berman and some of the others. Perhaps, there was some truth to them. Thomas glanced over, and returned the words,

"Aye, so are you." When he smiled and glanced down at your belly, you knew the jab had been intended. And, unfortunately, he'd managed to make you laugh.

***

You knew it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. Before the wedding, the pastor would counsel both of you. And, he was going to counsel you first.

You stood in a dress your mother had made, with your corset done loosely as not to press on your stomach. You'd been staring out the window, at the cloudless day and the happy faces of your town. Why shouldn't they be happy? It was the day for a celebration.

You'd even caught glimpses of Thomas. Your mother was fussing over him, and Issac had swiped his pouch. He looked- Well, you could tell he'd been scrubbed down. Most of his teeth were still black, but in clean clothes and with a clean face...Perhaps, he didn't look terrible. You tilted your head, and, almost as if he could feel you staring, Thomas' head turned. He caught your eyes, and reflected your posture with a tilt of his own head. It made you smile, something you found was less forced the more time you spent with him. Your head turned from him when you heard someone come in.

"Wonderful day for a wedding." Cyrus said as he closed the door to the chapel, and you tried to manage a smile. "Sit." He said, and gestured to one of the pews. You did, and you both kept your distance. The chapel was dim, only lit by the light outside. The pair of you were silent for a moment, before Cyrus said, "The magistrate is here. He seems eager to start. Do you," He paused for a moment. "Do you have any doubts?" And you felt that the question was not quite as empty as anyone else would think.

You'd been staring at your hands, and you finally lifted your gaze to him. To his deep, dark brown eyes. After a moment, you found your voice.

"None at all. Thomas is- He shall be the father to his child, and he shall be my husband. I shall do my duties, and, I- I love him." It was hard to say, at least when Cyrus sat in front of you. "What is there to doubt?" You asked, your question equally as heavy. While none of you would say it plainly, you knew from the way he looked over your face that he understood you perfectly. The pair of you would never confess your secret, and you'd let the hatchet be buried. Forgotten.

"Does he know?" Cyrus asked, and you knew what it sounded like. In case any of the others were listening. Like he was asking if your soon to be husband knew you loved him. The question couldn't be more disguised. Really, his eyes said, Does he know about us?

"Yes. Or, I think he does." You replied, and you watched how Cyrus reached to touch his clean-shaven face. His face was half hidden by his hand, but you could see his eyes were disturbed. A secret was harder to keep the more people knew, but you said, "And he loves me. He'd do anything to keep this union." You told him, and you hoped he got your meaning. When Cyrus glanced at you, you guessed he did. Silently, your eyes said, If he does, Thomas won't tell. And, after a pause, Cyrus let out a sigh.

"Then, there seems little I have to counsel you on."

***

"Have you thought of a name?" Thomas asked you, and you hummed.

You were picking at your sheet, looking towards the window. It had been months, five if not nearly six. Your baby was due in only a few weeks now, and you still hadn't decided. Your husband, a word to describe him that didn't seem so weird now, laid besides you facing up towards the roof.

Thomas, well, he was not what you thought. He had a good, if not sometimes strange, sense of humor, and did not bruise easily from even the harshest words. He could take care of himself, after years of doing so, and, subsequently, you as well. Your mother and the mid-wife still came by to make sure you were in good health, but Thomas had most of it handled. He was a little lazy when it came to work, especially the work your father tried to give him, but he seemed to find that the work that came with having his own house agreed with him. The pair of you had become- Well, familiar. That was the word you would use. You couldn't say, nearly six months later, that it was still just pretending.

Still, Thomas didn't touch you in any way you wouldn't want him to, and you had to lift your head to throw a glance back to him.

"I have some ideas. Perhaps, if it's a girl," You paused, a sly grin coming to your face, "We could name her Abigail." And you watched him scoff and roll his eyes, even lift his head off of his arm for a moment as he said,

"Absolutely not." And you snickered to yourself as you went back to facing away from him. It was just a jest, a reference to an old dalliance of his, but Thomas, if anything, was fun to tease. The only issue was that Thomas was just as sharp when it came to his wit. "Y'know- Fine. Then, if it's a boy, we shall name him Cyrus." And you let out a noise of protest. You tried to roll over, declaring,

"No!" And now it was Thomas' turn to laugh. He placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you back down. You let him, and even reached to hold his arm. To pull him closer. He followed, and you guided his hand above your bulging stomach as the pair of you adjusted. "Fine- Neither of those names. But, we must think of something." You told him, feeling as he stretched his fingers over where your baby grew. He held you, his warmth against your back. His hand rubbing your stomach lightly.

It made a strange sense of warmth fill you, one you couldn't blame from body-heat. And, it wasn't so terrible that you tried to push it, or him, away.

***

"She cries like no other child in Union." Thomas said as he climbed into your bed. You were supposed to be resting, healing, even weeks, nearly two months, after your child's birth. You felt like you'd been confined to your bed for so long that you were starting to become a part of it. Thomas was only here for the break your father gave him half-way through the day. Still, you smiled to yourself from where you laid on your side, and said,

"Perhaps, it is your smell that disturbs her." You said, your voice thick with sleep but a cheeky grin working onto your face. You shouldn't have prompted him, because he took the opportunity to drape himself heavily over your back.

"Oh, should I sleep outside tonight then?" He asked, and you giggled when you felt his stubble tickling your cheek.

It was already long into the day, and you'd become lazy from bed-rest. It felt far too nice to have his warmth wrapped around you, to where you nearly wanted to fall asleep. You had grown too used to it now, and you could barely imagine a night without it.

"I never said that." You responded, and turned your face back towards the softness of your pillow. You felt Thomas' hand raise, his fingertips brush against your cheek. He was being brave, especially when you felt his lips brush against your neck. It made you bite your lip, a twinge of something not so unfamiliar swirling in your belly. You wondered if he would continue. Hell, you wanted him to. But, it was nothing more than that.

Thomas, to your surprise, had more restraint than you would've assumed. He kissed your cheek, went to stand, and excused himself with,

"Your father will begin to wonder where I am." And you lifted your head to watch him step away, before you settled back down. He was clean, cleaner than he had been when he'd been sleeping in the outhouse. His hair was softer and longer, tied away from his face. And his arms seemed stronger, perhaps from the days of working with your father. He was, if you dared to think so, a kind sight to your eyes now. "Sleep. I'll be back by the time you wake." He told you, and, as he left, you found yourself hoping he was right.

[coeurdastronaute]

Xmas Day 37: 12 Days of Christmas, Part II

Day 36

Secret Santa Continuation

Previously on 12 Days of Christmas

12 Bells A-ringin’

At first, Lexa wasn’t sure what to do. 

She stared at the gold envelope on her workbench for a full minute before looking around at the shop, it functioning as it always did, the noises all the same, everyone milling about in the same manner as always. But this was different. There shouldn’t be a golden envelope on her workbench. She kept her workbench pristine, even in the middle of a big project, and she certainly hadn’t left an envelope in the middle. 

It looked familiar, and she smiled at the memory. Two years ago exactly, she’d had a similar envelope delivered to a girl in a bar. Two years ago she had a crush on the office manager. Not much had changed. 

“Wow, looks like you’ve gotten yourself a secret Santa,” Clarke murmured into her coffee cup, staring at the letter as well. 

Lexa jumped slightly before rolling her eyes. Clarke had a knack for just sneaking up on her. Too quiet and aided by the loud machines in the shop. She had a mischievous little smirk before taking a sip and looking at her girlfriend finally. 

“I wonder who it could be,” Lexa deadpanned. 

“I don’t know, but I think I should give them a talking to. You’re spoken for. And though this is an obscenely romantic gesture--”

“Obscene?” 

“Kind of over-the-top, if you will,” Clarke shrugged, as if she hadn’t swooned for nearly two weeks at the idea of a golden envelope and the next great adventure. 

“Noted,” Lexa nodded, looking back at the envelope. She smiled to herself and felt a shoulder nudge her arm. 

“I just don’t want anyone trying to romance you.” 

“You’re really going to play this up, aren’t you?” 

“Maybe,” she shrugged as the woodworker picked up the envelope finally. “What does it say?” 

“Like you don’t--” she earned a look and sighed. “On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me--”

“See, I have a problem with the wording,” Clarke began, mimicking her boss, though it was ignored rather easily. 

“Twelve bells a-ringin,” Lexa finished and held up two tickets. “A boxing match?” 

“Not just any boxing match,” her girlfriend explained. “Holiday-themed amateur wrestling.” 

“What could that even mean?” 

“Guess we’ll just have to go and find out.” 

Lexa smiled and looked back at the tickets. She felt a warmth blossom in her chest and looked back at Clarke, eagerly waiting for some kind of reaction. 

“Seems like whoever got me this must have known that me and Anya were obsessed with WWE when we were kids.” 

“Hmmm,” Clarke hummed and took another sip. “Who would know that personal and embarrassing fact about you? We can really narrow down who is sending you these amazing secret Santa gifts--”

Lexa stopped her with a kiss. She leaned forward and bent down, finding her mouth and shutting her up from being too cute and perfect. Still not one for the holidays, Lexa did have a fondness for the season because of this girl. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she murmured, wiggling the envelope. “We already live together.”

“Maybe you deserve to see some magic this season.” 

“I have you. I don’t need anything else.” 

It wasn’t a line, and Clarke knew it. Lexa was insanely easy to shop for and wanted for little more than a tattered sweater to be mended instead of a replacement bought. 

“So you don’t want to go see Santa beat up Frosty with me tonight?” 

“Oh no, we can go,” she hurried, earning a chuckle. 

11 Ladies Dancin’

With a sigh, Lexa stretched as she woke, searching for the other body in her bed. She smiled into her pillow as she thought about Clarke and sleeping with her every night. That was a wonderful feeling-- one she hadn’t ever expected. But three months ago Clarke’s lease was up and Lexa built her a dresser to welcome her. 

But she was not met with skin as she’d grown accustomed. The warmth was gone from the other side of the bed, and she lifted her head, squinting and finding it empty save for an envelope. 

For a moment she was grumpy. For a moment she pouted because she was alone and a little naked and wanted to kiss her girlfriend. But then she smiled and flopped back down, holding the envelope in front of her face, refusing to put her glasses on just yet. 

“On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” she read, singing it slightly, “Eleven ladies dancing.” 

There was a map, hand-drawn, with instructions on what to wear and what time to show up. For a moment, Lexa wondered if this was how Clarke felt, except it couldn’t be too similar, as she had no idea it was Lexa the whole time, even though she insisted she did consider it and certainly hoped it was her. 

With a sigh, a lovelorn, smitten, altogether taken sigh, she pushed herself out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Her loft had changed quite a bit since Clarke moved in. She’d referred to it as spartan-- austere, altogether empty. Lexa wasn’t offended in the slightest because it was true. She liked space. She liked the huge windows and little else. But Clarke didn’t. So there were plants now. Green popped up in the fairly colorless space in all directions. There were leaves hanging from shelves Lexa was requested to build, and there was a giant tree, or at least what Lexa thought was a tree, in the corner. It felt warmer. It felt nice, to have a used coffee mug in the sink that wasn’t her’s. It felt even better to trip over Clarke’s shoes, which she left wherever she was standing when she decided to take them off. 

Now, there were Christmas decorations. Garland hung from shelves and stairs, while two stockings were tacked up from the TV drawers. A small tree sat in the corner, a few presents already piling there. 

Normally they walked to work together, but Lexa was assuming that Clarke was enjoying the game of playing the secret Santa this time. 

Her day flew by with nothing else happening save for her sister mocking her envelopes. But Lexa took it because she had never been someone to make the big gesture, and now it felt like she’d done something very, very right. 

At the designated time, Lexa found herself standing out front of a somewhat familiar gay bar they’d gone to a few times. She shoved her hands in her pocket and tried to hide the ugly Christmas sweater she’d been instructed to wear. 

“You found it,” Clarke greeted her. 

She was wearing Lexa’s hat, the one Lexa had been looking for. This was the perils of dating Clarke Griffin-- she’d never own anything of her own ever again. The thought made her warm again. 

“How could I not? This is a well-drawn map.” 

“Thanks-- I’m thinking of doing my next installation on printer paper.” 

“I’d be there.” 

Lexa earned a smile as Clarke grabbed her coat and tugged her closer. Clarke did things like that, so naturally, too-- just grabbed her lapels and tugged her into a kiss because she wanted it. Lexa was still learning, it felt like, still unsure. But she didn’t have to be with Clarke. 

“Are you ready for the eleventh day of Christmas?” Clarke asked as she pulled away. Her cheeks were apples. 

“I think.” 

“Good. Let’s go. It’s a festive drag show.” 

“I love this.” 

“I know-- don’t worry, Anya and a few others are here too.” 

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t thank me yet. You can’t know for sure I’m your Secret Santa.” 

“Fine. I’ll just have to ask everyone.” 

With a shove, Clarke tugged her back, grabbing her hand and leading her inside. 

10 Ships Sailing

“We’re supposed to be shopping for Christmas gifts,” Anya groaned as Lexa squinted at the map and directed them to the museum. 

“And we will, after lunch. You agreed to come with me.”

“Yeah, so I can make sure you get me the right purse I wanted, not go to the damn museum.” 

“I love a good museum. Me and Clarke went to one last month about a mile outside of town about primitive woodworking instruments.”

“God, you’re both so boring.” 

Lexa smiled to herself because she wasn’t going to tell Anya about the car sex on the way back. That’d be impolite. Something about an antique lathe just got her hot though. Maybe Clarke knew that. That’d explain a lot. 

“Shut up. You loved this movie when we were kids.” 

“I still do.”

“Well, my true love got me tickets to the sold out exhibit of the Titanic, and I thought you’d want to come.” 

“You mean Clarke.” 

“TBD, as she would say,” Lexa shrugged. 

They both knew it was Clarke. Anya rolled her eyes. 

“You’re both insanely mushy. It’s disgusting to watch.” 

“I’m not…”

They showed their tickets and made their way into the crowded museum. Lexa smiled and tried to take it all in, nudging her sister along as they chatted about the holiday and what the plans were coming together. 

“So this thing with the secretary--”

“Office manager,” Lexa corrected as they maneuvered around a display case of pristine dishes. 

“It’s serious?” 

“It always was to me.” 

Anya nodded and thought about it for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. 

“She’s pulling out all the stops to make you love the holidays, huh?” 

“If I’ve learned anything about Clarke, is that she is maybe the only person more stubborn than me, so I know she’ll win.” 

“What’s the plan? Settle down, work at the shop, grow your business, sell her art, work together every day? Pop out a few kids and move to the suburbs?” 

For a moment Lexa thought about the words seriously, not as a joke as her sister had intended before turning back to her and smiling. 

“Yeah. I’d be okay with that. With Clarke.” 

It left Anya surprised, but Lexa was moving onto the next display case, hurrying her to come look at some facts printed beside mementos. She made a note to herself to check in with the office manager, because now she knew how serious it was. 

9 Drummers Drumming

“Thank goodness you found it okay.” 

“I don’t usually get lost on my way home,” Lexa grinned, tugging the scarf from around her neck and shoving her hat in her pocket as she stamped her boots before tugging them off. 

“Or was it because of my expert mapmaking skills?” 

“You truly missed your calling as a cartographer.” 

The loft was glowing, gentle and soft, only Christmas lights twinkling as the source of light. Lexa hung up her gear while her girlfriend hovered, waiting for a proper greeting. 

“So you got another envelope.” 

“I did,” Lexa waved it before hooking an arm around a waist and kissing her despite being cold and earning a shiver. “Something about nine whole drummers.” 

“Okay listen, I’m doing my best, but it’s hard.” 

“So it is you?” 

“I mean, your secret Santa,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “So I made us this.” 

With a quick turn she showed off the fort in the living room, sheets hung up and all the furniture making a tall tent that even encapsulated the television. 

“We’re going to have take out and watch at least nine Christmas movies, some of which will include drums.” 

“I take it back. You should be a fort designer,” Lexa let out a low whistle as she opened the flap and found lights strung up inside with a bed of pillows and blankets awaiting. 

No wonder her girlfriend left work so early. 

“Would you care to join me?” Clarke offered, slipping inside. “But go change first. I left you a present on the bed.” 

Lexa held up the Christmas themed pajamas and sighed before taking off her clothes and changing. This is who she was now. 

8 Maids A-milkin’

Somehow, without even noticing, an envelope and a coffee cup appeared on her workbench. Lexa looked around, oddly alarmed at how absorbed in her work and ear plugs she’d become. But somehow Clarke appeared and disappeared without her even noticing. It seemed impossible. She always knew Clarke was near. It was a Spidey-sense. 

Without taking her headphones out, Lexa picked up the envelope and smiled as she sniffed the tea. 

“On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me-- eight maids a-milkin’-- like milk. For Chai. Your favorite. This is hard.” 

Lexa grinned and took a sip of her favorite drink from their favorite café a few blocks down the road. She sympathized. She knew how hard it was and how absolutely frustrating it was to try to do this and to try to make the other person happy. 

She still got a tiny thrill when she saw an envelope. It wasn’t about the gift or the interpretation. It was about the thought, and she was happy to be thought of by Clarke in such a way. With another sip of her drink, she leaned there and swooned. 

7 Swans A-swimming

“So it’s getting pretty serious with you and your boss, huh?” Raven asked as she watched her friend struggle terribly to fold a paper crane. The four she’d already made were… very un-swan-like. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“You’re learning origami to make her seven swans because you two are obsessed with probably the lamest Christmas song around?” 

Clarke nodded and wanted to disagree, but at the moment she’d wished Lexa had gone with something a little easier, like maybe “All I want for Christmas is You.” That would have been easy. She could have worn a bow and nothing else. Lexa would have liked that. 

With a nod to herself she made a note to remember that gift idea for all future holidays. 

But she couldn’t really regret the choice. Lexa was thoughtful. She didn’t share it, but she was. She was the one who made them coffee in the morning before work. She was the one who built Clarke a desk. She was the one who knew to put on a rom-com during Clarke’s period and to always have a pack of gum in her pocket because Clarke asked non-stop. Lexa was her person, and she deserved some sort of romantic display, even if Clarke was unsure of how to do it. 

Lexa was thoughtful, yes, but she was also insanely hard to be thoughtful for. She needed for nothing. She literally loved going to farms and weird sales and buying pieces of wood. How do you shop for someone who likes wood so much? 

“We live together, and you’re just now considering it serious?” Clarke rolled her eyes and gave up, retreating to another new piece of paper. She was going to hang them up in the loft, so Lexa saw them right as she walked in, like they were flying. She just had to actually make them. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I guess it would pass.” 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s your boss.” 

“She needs me more at work than I need her,” Clarke snorted. “She can’t even find calipers without a flashlight and a neon sign. Plus, that job just pays the bills while I paint. You know this. You’ve been to my show.”

“But you’re doing the big gesture. It’s serious. You’d tell me if it were getting more serious, right?” 

“What’s more serious than origami swans?” 

Raven gave her a knowing look. 

“She’s it for me. I don’t get any more serious. This is it.” 

The news was surprising, and Raven wasn’t sure why. It made sense. It just wasn’t something she’d considered. She nodded and wondered when they’d retire to the suburbs with three kids and a mutt, but didn’t say it. 

“At least let me help. This is pitiful.” 

“Fine,” Clarke sighed, handing over some paper before the two got to work. 

6 Geese A-Layin’

The company Christmas party was different this year, and it took a small golden envelope at her seat at the table to explain why. But still, Lexa sat there and smiled, watching her girlfriend bring out the giant dinner, setting the table for everyone. 

“On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,” Clarke began, earning a drumroll from the rest of the giant table. “Six geese a-laying.” 

“There’s only two!” someone piped up.

“It’s six in spirit,” she snapped quickly before pushing hair from her face. 

Lexa chuckled and stood as everyone moved to their seats. It was a fancy formal dinner, much different than the liquor infused ones Clarke planned in the past, but no less magical. The shop had been transformed, lights hung everywhere and candles carefully adorned the table. It felt like Christmas. 

“I guess it’s up to me to say something, or so I’ve been instructed by Anya,” Lexa began with some laughs. “I want to thank everyone for your work and for your time. I know we wouldn’t be as successful as we are without all of you. And I know sometimes family is hard, but you have become my favorite family. This shop-- a pipe dream I never let myself think would be true-- it’s been wonderful to me. So thank you all, and I hope you enjoy the bonuses.” 

“Here here!” an echo ran out as glasses were tapped and clanked. 

Clarke smiled over the candlelight at her girlfriend, letting her know it was good before Lexa wiped fake sweat from her brow and let out a breath. 

“My secret Santa sure does put out all the stops, huh?” 

“I’m sure they spent a lot of time learning how to prepare a traditional Christmas goose. They sound amazing,” Clarke grinned. 

“I’ll say.” 

5 Golden Rings

The map was misleading. 

Lexa furrowed as she tried to follow the envelope to her five golden rings but failed miserably. For hours she frustrated herself, trudging around the city until she finally thought she’d figured it out, ducking into a café three blocks from the shop. 

But the shop was closed and it seemed like a lot of work for some donuts. Frozen to the bone, she hadn’t expected to get a map that led her to said closed shop. She hadn’t expected to not get any donuts either, much to her chagrin. 

It was already dusk when she arrived, the light fading quickly in the winter. She tossed on the familiar lights except they didn’t turn on the loud overhead lights, just the twinkle lights from the dinner the night before. But the shop was clear, only Clarke was standing there waiting. 

Lexa smiled to herself and unwound her scarf and shoved her hat in her coat before peeling them off and tossing them on someone’s bench. 

“I ran all over the city today.” 

“Good-- you needed to work out after that dinner last night,” Clarke chided, earning another smile. 

“What are you doing here? My secret Santa is going to be coming in at any minute,” she whispered when she got closer. “I don’t want them to get jealous or anything.” 

“Shut up. You know it’s me.” 

“Yeah, well. It’s been really cute. You’ve done a good job. I never… no one’s ever done this.” 

Lexa was wearing the sweater Clarke had given her two years ago. There were new holes in it that would need mended, but neither minded that. Lexa decided it was the most important sweater in her entire wardrobe. Clarke thought she just looked plain cute in it and she was right. 

“I’m glad it’s made you happy,” Clarke said earnestly, playing with Lexa’s hands between them. “But this is the last one.” 

“What? I was kind of curious as to what my colly birds and turtle doves might be.” 

“The point of this entire scavenger hunt has always been this moment.”

Music started playing, a soft familiar song that’d been their song, somehow inherited as they made breakfast one morning and it played on Clarke’s phone. Lexa grinned as she realized it. Snow started to fall inside, or at least what seemed like snow, but was, in fact, shredded paper, making her laugh. 

“Do you have elves?” 

“Secret ones, yeah,” Clarke nodded. 

“Impressive. I should have recruited.” 

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gripping Lexa’s hands tighter than before. 

“The first day I met you I knew that there was something between us. But you hired me, and you were my boss. And you’re technically still my boss, but that’s not the point anymore.” 

“True. HR would never like to hear the things you like me to do to you.” 

Clarke went redder than normal and took another deep breath. 

“I stopped the song here because I love you, Lexa. I always have. And you might never know how much, but I do. And I couldn’t afford five, but I thought maybe one golden ring might suffice, if it was the right kind.” 

In a slow movement, Clarke pulled the box from her pocket and knelt on one knee. 

“On the fifth day of Christmas, Lexa Woods, your true love wanted to give you her whole entire life, if you’d want it.” 

“Are you… is that?” 

Lexa held her hands over her mouth, completely shocked as the velvet box opened. 

“What do you say?” 

“Yes. Fuck yes. Of course yes. A million yesses,” She exploded, grabbing Clarke and kissing her until she was standing. 

Both broke apart, laughing and slightly crying until Lexa swallowed her in a hug. 

“You’re it for me, Woods.” 

“You’re everything,” Lexa whispered to her girlfriend’s neck.

Day 38 (Footy)

[chequered-career]

Hello and merry Christmas! Here you go @random-ran-me! This is my Secret Santa gift with Benchtrio + Phil and the found family prompt. Really sorry it's so late ;v; Hope you'll like it though!

Warnings: Injuries (sort of vaguely mentioned), fear of death, panic

Wordcount: 8.4k

@mcyt-gt-events

Oh gods there's something outside.

Ranboo can hear it moving. It's scraping along the bricks outside right next to his ear, which means it's much much taller than anything has any right to be. Ranboo folds up into his chair.

Okay, okay, he can figure this out, he'll find a way out of this. Actual facts about the situation?

Fact number 1: It's big - and wow, he does not like that one, that is not a fun fact to think about. He can't help the hysterical giggle in his head.

Fact number 2: It's close to the front door.

Fact number 3: His thread scissors are just out of reach.

He tries anyway, stretching across the table and holding his breath. His fingertips barely touch the handle. All right, new plan. Just wait right here, stay completely quiet, and it'll go away.

The noise stops.

That's it? It's gone? No, no, that can't be it, it's outside the door, isn't it, settling in to wait until he comes out.

Luckily that's not the only door. Ranboo's hand closes around the scissors. He slides off the table and tiptoes for the cellar ladder.

The door slams open.

Ranboo spins around, bracing for something - a rat, maybe, or a woodpecker.

It's shorter than he is, that's all he notices right before his brain catches up and says 'that's a borrower.'

The other borrower stumbles back. "Whoa, whoa, we're not looking for any trouble big man, we can- we can talk this out!"

"Yeah, put the sword down," another one chimes in behind him.

"Oh. Um." The scissors shake in Ranboo's hands. There has to be something to say. He's, um, admittedly not that good at talking to guests, or, you know, talking to people in general. "Hi! Come on in."

The blond one comes in first, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat, and an even shorter one in a fluffy brown jacket follows.

Ranboo shuffles back. "Um."

What's the thing you're supposed to say next? You're supposed to offer your guests tea, right?

The first borrower's hands flutter about. "Listen, we just happened to be passing through, saw this house - very nice house, by the way - and thought it was abandoned. I mean, not that it looks abandoned, it looks very nice, it's a very good house - you know what, I'd give it five stars."

"Sorry about your door," the shorter one says, "it's probably not as bad as it looks."

The other one jumps in, "It was completely accidental, it just fell down by itself, rotten woodwork or something. Honestly, we're doing you a favor here, no idea why you're complaining."

"I can fix it," says the shorter borrower, "If I'm alive - if both of us are alive. So if you want your door fixed-"

"Right, right, you want your door back in one piece!" the first one interrupts. "Tubbo and I can handle that! Just stay right there and don't, don't come any closer, it'll distract us, you wouldn't want to distract the professional door installers would you?"

The other wobbles a bit, tilting to one side. Ranboo catches a glimpse of his ankle above his shoe.

Oh. He's injured.

"I'll be right back," Ranboo says quickly, before either of them can start talking again.

He clatters down the cellar ladder into the dark. He knows exactly where it is. Right there, on the top shelf, past the stacks of containers and all the tools with long handles that wouldn't fit anywhere else.

He has to balance it on top of his arms with the scissors, which apparently he'd brought down with him even if he didn't remember that.

Voices float down as he reaches the ladder.

"If he comes back to murder us, I'll distract him with my epic diplomatic skills while you make a run for it." It's the blond borrower and he's whispering. "I'm known all over for my conversational genius - silver-tongued Tommy, they call me, I mean all the important people do - he doesn't stand a chance."

"We've been over this, boss man. I can't run."

"I'm not leaving you here, listen, we'll think of something. You go hide, I'll lead him away and come back for you."

"Too much of a risk. Tell you what, you wait by the porch and I'll catch up."

Ranboo's heart pounds. Someone wants to kill the two borrowers in his living room. Someone who's probably going to follow them here.

He is not qualified to handle this, absolutely not, the most dangerous weapon he has is a pair of thread scissors and he's never fought a thing in his life. In fact, if someone else comes along and takes charge of the situation that would be just fine, thank you.

No one else comes. It's just Ranboo.

"Hi," he announces, popping up through the hatch. He is not trembling, no sir, the box is definitely not shaking in his hands. He's fine. Everything is fine. "Okay, I'm back, I found it."

"Wait, slow down, you don't have to come any closer!" The blond borrower leaps up in front of the other one. "All your stuff is fine, see? It's right where you left it, we didn't touch anything, actually this has been a great visit but I think we'd better be going if that's all right with you."

Ranboo holds out the box. "I brought the first aid kit for your friend. Can I, um-"

Okay, he was hoping for a slightly better reaction? He has no idea what he's doing wrong but the other borrower doesn't look relieved, or really okay at all. Maybe he's just startled Ranboo noticed his friend was hurt.

"Right," the other borrower nods rapidly, "right, leave it to me, I'll take care of it."

While he lifts the flap and rummages through the neatly labeled paper parcels, Ranboo tiptoes around him to the door. It's, well, look, it's off its hinges and it's leaning on the mat and just generally not doing its duty as a door, but that's okay! He'll figure something out!

By the time the door is back in commission, the first aid supplies are tidied up and the shorter borrower is mostly standing upright, looking maybe a little better.

"Thanks for the help and all, very useful," the other pushes the box at Ranboo, "it's been nice talking, pleasure to meet you, I think we can all agree to part ways as friends, right?"

"You can't leave," Ranboo protests, "he won't be able to walk with that ankle."

"Yes he can," insists the blond borrower at the same time the other says "Who, me? What ankle? I'm fine!"

Which would be much more convincing if he wasn't leaning on his friend and didn't look five seconds from falling over.

Ranboo takes a couple of breaths. Here it comes. "Stay here." His voice is definitely not going all wobbly, nope. He sounds completely calm. "The house is very well hidden. No one will find you here."

Okay, actually, hypothetically, if someone came down the front passageway it'd be pretty obvious it's a house, and oh boy that's a thought he's shoving to the back of his mind right now, he does not want to think that. He'll solve that problem when it comes up.

"That's-" The blond borrower's arms spread just far enough to nudge his friend behind him. "We'd hate to impose on your hospitality big man, that's not- not necessary."

"It's no trouble at all, really! Just make yourself at home."

"Tommy," whispers the other one.

"Lovely meeting you, very nice place you have here," the blond borrower plunges on, "-especially the door, great job on that - but it's about time we were on our way. Business calls and all that. You know how it is."

His friend tugs on his sleeve. "Tommy. Do what he says, okay? I've got a plan." His head peeks out around the taller borrower's shoulder, beaming brighter than a brand-new lightbulb. "Thanks for letting us stay at your house," he chirps.

"No problem!" Ranboo hopes his smile looks reassuring. He really does. "Help yourself to the blankets on the sofa."

It's not the greatest night ever.

Ranboo spends it curled up against the door gripping his thread scissors. If anyone comes knocking he'll - well, really he can't do much, not when it's just him and a pair of scissors, but maybe he can hold someone off long enough for the others to escape through the cellar.

Maybe whoever it is won't have anything really nasty, like an actual blade or a lighter - wow he couldn't do a thing about a lighter, that'd be it, three seconds and it's over, no use trying.

Oh boy, nope, he's not thinking about that.

Once the heap of blankets on the sofa twitches and the blond borrower lifts his head.

Ranboo gives him a tiny wave. It's okay, you can go back to sleep, I'm not going to let anyone come in here.

Which, of course, he doesn't say out loud - the shorter one is still asleep and he needs rest for his ankle to heal, poor guy - but luckily his meaning still comes across because the other borrower settles back down.

It's quiet for a long time.

Ranboo wakes up.

Sunlight trickles into the room, across the table and the ashes in the fireplace. There's someone in the house - wait, no, two of them, on the sofa tucked up into a mound of blankets. One of them has blond curls and the other's barely visible under fluffy brown hair.

Slow down. Go back one more time.

Okay, this is important. It's got to be written down somewhere. The stapled-together pages of his newest memory book fly open, and aha, there it is.

'Guests staying here. Someone trying to murder them.'

His breath stutters.

That's not a nice thing to see first thing in the morning, or at all, ever. In fact, he's going to put that on the highest shelf of his mind and not think about it for a while. He'll do nice normal things like make breakfast instead.

Water simmers in the chipped saucepan. Oatmeal tips in followed by a couple grains of salt, drifting along with the spoon. It's nice. It's totally ordinary. It's just Ranboo in the kitchen, completely alone, humming a little song under his breath, like any other completely normal morning.

The point of the scissors touches his neck.

"Let Tommy go."

Ranboo twists around. It's one of his guests - not the blond one but the one in the jacket - his knuckles white around the scissors handle.

His heart skips a beat. He's cornered, pressed into the side of the stove and the edge of a cupboard, no way out except straight forwards. He's got a puffy floral oven mitt and a spoon.

"Drop the spoon," the other borrower says.

It goes clack somewhere on the floor.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay there. Tommy is going to leave. If you make one move to stop him, it'll be the last thing you do, is that clear?"

Ranboo swallows. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

The tip of the scissors jabs closer, and oh gods he's going to get stabbed, right here, all he can do is turn his head a tiny bit and keep his eyes shut. It'll be quick, right? It won't - oh it'll definitely be worse than the time he fell off the windowsill, no question there, he feels sick just thinking about it - but at least it won't last long.

"No tricks," says the other borrower. "You're not going to keep Tommy here."

Ranboo blinks. The tip rests at his neck. He's, wow, actually not being stabbed yet. "I'm- I'm not - you can leave whenever you want, that's, that's fine!"

The other borrower laughs. "Like you haven't been watching all night to make sure we didn't escape."

He remembers that, sort of! Probably, a little bit!

"I was trying to keep you safe! You were-" What was it? There was something, yes, that's it, go back a bit more, there was something and it was important. It's hovering at the edge of his memory.

That's when the borrower sort of just topples into him.

Fluffy brown hair fills half his vision and the scissors are cold against Ranboo's sleeve and the other borrower's definitely not standing up properly - and honestly, he wasn't doing that in the first place, which brings up a whole bunch of questions Ranboo hadn't even considered.

"Um. Are you okay?"

The grip on his sleeve tightens. "Tommy! Tommy, run!"

"Wha- Tubbo!"

One of the end tables crashes over as the second borrower hurtles into the kitchen, hair still puffed up where he'd been sleeping on it. "Get away from him!"

"Tommy, go!" gasps the other one against Ranboo's shoulder. Ranboo props him up on top of the cupboard, there we go, that'll keep him upright.

The minute he lets go the second borrower is there, wrenching Ranboo away by one arm. "No! Leave him alone! I'm the one you want, whatever you think he did it was me!"

Ranboo skitters back. "I don't- I don't think you did anything! I'm not trying to, to keep you here - you can leave anytime you like, I promise!"

"Yeah, right. You really think we'll believe that?" Behind his friend the brown-haired one gestures with the thread scissors. "After threatening us with this every second?"

"I wasn't!" Ranboo wouldn't!

Yesterday's kind of a gaping hole in his memory but of course he wouldn't do that, would he?

"Wh- You can't just-" the blond one sputters indignantly, "Yes you were! You can't just deny that! You were guarding the door!"

"I was trying to protect you!" It's there, the memory's there and it's absolutely important, it's just the tiniest bit beyond Ranboo's reach.

Okay, slow down, think about it. Something was written down in the memory book, wasn't there? "Someone was trying to kill you?" There's a little bit of memory right there and he latches onto the corner. "You said, um, someone might come back to murder you?"

That's really not reassuring, honestly, the way they look at each other. "We were talking about you," says the blond one.

Oh. Oh.

Wow, that explains a thing or two, doesn't it.

"I'm-" There's got to be something to say, quick, figure it out. What's the thing to say when your guests think you were planning to kill them? "Sorry?"

"Sorry," repeats the one on the cupboard.

"Really I'm sorry, I didn't- didn't mean to give that impression at all, I wasn't-" Words bubble up in Ranboo's head in the second it takes to breathe, all off-balance and staggering over each other. "You can go whenever you like - right now if you want to, the door's over there - I'm, I'm definitely not trying to make you stay here, look, I'll be over here in the corner and not come any closer, all right? You can leave this minute if you want!"

There's another glance - a whole silent conversation - going between the other two, miles above Ranboo's head.

"I knew it," the blond one bursts out, "I knew it all along."

A tiny bit of stiffness eases from Ranboo's shoulders. "You did?"

"Of course I did! Thought you had us fooled, didn't you? Not us! It'll take more than that to trick the two biggest men alive!"

"Oh." Ranboo's fingers curl in shakily. "Good?"

"Because you're obviously not going to, to do anything to us, like stab us and hide the bodies in your creepy murder basement or whatever's down there, of course we'd be fine with staying around until his ankle is finished healing! Completely fine, in fact! Think of it as an honor - it's not every day you get to have two big men at your house!"

"Um. Sure!" Ranboo dives for it. It's a second chance, dropped straight into his lap. Don't mess it up. "Sure, yes, if you want to!"

"I'm Tubbo," the one on the cupboard pipes up. "This is Tommy."

Tommy's head bobs quickly. "Great to meet you!"

"Ranboo." Ranboo tries for a smile to match theirs. It's never too late for a good first impression, right? "You can stay here just as long as you like. Or leave, I mean, it's really all up to you."

His hand drops hurriedly when they don't respond to it, but Tommy isn't backing away and the scissors aren't pointed at his heart - that's got to count for something.

They'll work this out, all right? Everything'll be fine.

Ranboo, if you want Tommy's humble opinion, is a rotten name.

He sounds like a proper wrong 'un, which is convenient because that's just what he is. Probably his parents took one look at him and said right, that's a wrong 'un, we're calling him Ranboo.

However, as long as he's still pretending to be a regular decent person, Tommy's going to take advantage of that. He reckons it'll last at least a day or two, long enough so that when Ranboo does go for the kill it'll catch them off guard. Well guess what, jokes on him, Tommy isn't going to be caught napping.

He's going about his day exactly as usual, like there isn't a murderer watching his every move, and you'd never guess he's got one eye on Ranboo the whole time.

It's called stealth, and Tommy practically invented it.

But it's not a day or two. It's three, and then it's four, and suddenly it's been an entire week and Ranboo still hasn't cut their throats.

Tommy's just too clever for him, that's what it is. He's incredibly casual and nonchalant the way he sweeps the floor and stitches up a hole in Tubbo's jacket and rearranges the rugs (obviously the red one should go by the front door) and washes the dishes, and Ranboo never suspects he's practicing constant vigilance.

"I'm coming with you borrowing," Tommy announces one day.

Ranboo, who doesn't stand a chance against his sheer intelligence, agrees.

Tommy keeps a good firm grip on the scissors the entire trip. Every second he's mapping out escape routes in his head, making charts of places to go and places to avoid.

Apparently there's only one human in the building. Tommy can outsmart one human, no problem.

All he has to do is figure out the human's schedule, and he could just about do it in his sleep - they don't call him Tommy the living calculator for nothing.

He's starting to suspect Ranboo might be really bad at, you know, murdering people, which is sort of sad because that's like his one job as a murderer. He's not complaining, obviously, but it's been three borrowing trips so far and Ranboo hasn't even tried. He just keeps his distance like an honest, decent individual.

He's playing the long game, that's it. He's going around smiling and nodding and agreeing to everything, putting on this whole friendly act, and all along the reason he's smiling is because he's planning the details of Tommy's and Tubbo's deaths.

He'll never get the chance. Tommy's going to make sure of that. Ranboo's still playing nice and Tommy can outdo him at that any day of the week.

Tubbo sets up fairy lights in Ranboo's house, because he knows all about elasticity or some word like that, and Tommy sprinkles flowerpots around in spots that need flowers to brighten them up. Interior decorator extraordinaire, that's him. They'll be out of here in no time - the minute Tubbo's able to run - but for now they've got an entire house and they're enjoying it for all it's worth.

Tubbo's even working on one of his projects across the living room, involving mostly a lot of wires.

"Uh, is this something like the lights you put up?" Ranboo asks.

Tubbo grins. "Something like that."

Afterwards, once Ranboo's puttering around the kitchen out of earshot, Tommy asks whether it's something that'll help them escape.

It's one of Tubbo's real smiles this time, wide and pointy-edged exactly like it's supposed to be. "Don't worry about it, boss man."

When most people say that, it means you should, in fact, start worrying - but not with Tubbo. Tubbo has it under control, whatever it is.

Tommy figures they've got about two days left before they can make a run for it, so borrowing trip number seven is probably the end of the series. But does he relax his vigilance? Not on your life! He's got both eyes open and he keeps those scissors right where he can reach them.

He has a hand on them the minute Ranboo's tiny voice echoes back through the tunnel. "Oh. Oops."

"What, where, something the matter? Left your hat at home?"

"It's nothing. It's all right."

"Just saying oops for fun?" Tommy radiates friendliness. He's the living definition of it. "You're among friends, Ranboo, you can say oops if you want."

"I forgot the soap, that's all."

It's a good thing he's got Tommy along. "Not a problem! It's just three rooms back and a short climb up to the laundry room vent."

"No, no, it's fine, it can wait a few days. It's almost morning and we still need bandages from the closet."

"You go for the bandages, I'll pick up the soap and catch up with you!" Which is a brilliant idea, if he does say so himself, even Ranboo should recognize its genius.

"It's fine, really, you don't have to do that," Ranboo says, "we can come back later. It's two shelves above the washing machine and it's out in the open."

Let the thing sit there smugly on its shelf, just because of a little distance and a few inches of open space? Tommy's not one to be daunted by a couple of shelves! Anyone who knows him would tell you he always rises to the occasion, and that's just what he does now.

"Leave it to me!" He's off for the laundry room vent before Ranboo can blink.

If you ask him - not that he knows anything about it - this would be the perfect moment for a knife in the back, and for a second his heart does a tiny wobble.

But all Ranboo does is call after him, "Stay safe!"

Tommy doesn't have a single problem with that, of course. If Ranboo's still keeping up the nice guy act that's completely fine with Tommy.

Tubbo just needs a couple more days and then they're escaping.

A sliver of light trickles out under the chipped paint. The doorknob is smooth and hard and a bit sticky, so Ranboo jiggles it at the same time he braces his shoulder on the door.

Wait, stop a moment, he didn't forget anything, did he? Skip back a few thoughts and go over the list again.

1. Bandages. (That one's very important)

2. Blueberries. (Honestly everyone's getting tired of cornflakes)

3. Soap.

Blueberries squish in with neatly cut bandages, filling every bit of his bag. So, well, he's missing something on the list, he'll admit it. But at least two out of three isn't bad.

Tubbo's flattened out on top of the living room table, elbow-deep in spirals of colored wire. Under the fairy lights his shoes swing back and forth in the air.

Ranboo tries a tiny polite cough - just enough to be heard, that's it, there we go. "Hi."

"Hey, man."

Right, yes, conversation. Ranboo can do that. He scrambles hurriedly around for a word to start with.

Tubbo's back goes a little straighter. "Where's Tommy?"

"Tommy?" Ranboo flounders to the surface of his thoughts. Tommy's chair is empty.

Tommy's doing something - he's busy sewing something, isn't he? Only he isn't. His sewing is nicely folded up on the chair's arm, and there's no sign of him in the living room or the kitchen or even in the loft.

"Is he still outside?"

Ranboo blinks. "Is he outside?"

"He went out borrowing with you. Don't you know where he is?"

Okay, um, admittedly he doesn't, and that's really not good news, but this is something important, isn't it? It's probably written down somewhere.

'Tommy getting soap.'

He claps the memory book shut. "It's all right! He's borrowing soap, that's all."

"Borrowing soap," repeats Tubbo. "How far away is that?"

Ranboo skips back a few passageways and tunnels in his mind. "Not very? Only a few rooms over, actually, it shouldn't take too long for him to come back."

A tiny dot of red blinks on and off past the wires. Tubbo scrunches back down, face swallowed up in the fluff of his jacket. No more conversation, got it.

Ranboo will just - what's the next thing to do? Put things away? - yes, that, he'll just do that. Blueberries go on the kitchen cupboard. Bandages in the first aid box, wrapped in squares of paper. He dusts the stale gingersnap crumbs out of his bag, because really, he can't remember the last time he borrowed those and that means his bag needs cleaning, and hooks it onto the pin in the wall.

Anything else? The fireplace might need brushing, maybe? He rolls up his sleeves and settles into it. Halfway through sweeping the loft he realizes Tommy still isn't back.

Tubbo's tucked up between the table and the sofa, buried in wires.

"I'm going out to look for him, actually," Ranboo says.

He's, well, really not sure what that expression means? Worried - okay, that would make sense, he could understand that - but Tubbo doesn't look worried, exactly, or puzzled, or anything he'd expect.

"You sure you want to do that?" Tubbo asks. "He might be here in a minute."

"Maybe he's having trouble?" Took a wrong turn, maybe? That's it. That has to be it. Not stumbling into a mousetrap in the dark, or falling off a shelf, or - no, nope, that's enough, he's not thinking about that anymore. "Maybe he got a bit lost."

"Really. That's the best you can come up with."

"I don't know?" Ranboo would really like not to consider Tommy running into a rat, thank you. "I think it's worth looking, at least."

Tubbo sort of sits up sharper. "You know what? Go ahead."

"I'll be back soon," Ranboo promises.

Supplies bounce and jingle in the bulky reserve pack as he swings out the door. He clatters to the end of the passage, scans the darkness for a second, and starts running.

It'll be fine. Really, it'll be okay. He'll figure something out. He'll find Tommy and bring him back safe.

Tommy doesn't come hopping out of the dark, or strolling out casually past the humming metal pipes - that's fine, entirely fine, there's a vast human building full of possibilities out there and he could be anywhere in it.

So. Hm. Options. A lot of them, honestly.

Water gurgles past in a deafening roar. It's just one of the pipes, it does that, it's absolutely normal. He didn't flinch at all.

Straight ahead, the outline of an air vent looms out of the dark. Right, there we go, that's a good place to start. It's just a quick climb before he's dragging back the small round hatch and dropping into the vent. Light seeps in from the grate a few steps along.

Ranboo slides through the grate, spooling out his climbing rope bit by bit.

"Tommy?" he calls.

Sunny plaid curtains sweep away from him on either side of the human window. Every inch of the laundry room is lit up.

Oh gosh it's morning.

That's - that's an entirely new set of horrible things he's not going to think about, those ones get their own personal category and it's labeled human.

"Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?"

"Tubbo?"

Breath shoots into his lungs. "Tommy? It's me, Ranboo!"

"Ranboo! Ranboo, over here, big man!"

He's alive. Tommy's alive. For a second his arms go limp - just oh, whoops, no more arms for you - the next second he's scurrying down hand over hand to the clothes rack.

A hurried flick sends his hook spinning down after him. A jump and he's running along the smooth, gleaming surface of the drying machine.

"Tommy? Where are you?"

Just in front of him the other machine yawns open, a gigantic lid tilted back to expose a pit stretching down into the dark. Tommy, in the center, wading through drenched fabric, up to his knees in water, waves back at him.

"Nice weather we're having, innit?" he shouts.

"Tommy! What on - uh, wait, is it? No, how did you- what did you do?"

"Had a minor accident, that's all! It'll take more than that to keep me down!"

"Ah. Right." The gap between his shoes and Tommy is a matter of inches. "A minor accident that ends with an eight-inch fall. Happens all the time."

Tommy sputters. "It's not my fault! The shelf was slippery! How's a man supposed to get about when shelves keep on being slippery? It could've happened to anyone!"

Oh. That's really not good. Above the shine of the washing machine the shelves jut out from the wall, stacked with cleaning supplies. Even a fall from the edge of the pit could be bad, but from up there?

No, stop that, nope, Tommy's not the most accurate when it comes to his own injuries but at least he's standing up - that has to mean something, right?

He's going to be fine. Ranboo's going to figure out a way to get through this.

"So are your things up there?" he asks, pointing.

"Still there," Tommy confirms.

"I'll climb up and get them once you're out. Just a minute!"

It takes a few tries, three to be honest, but Ranboo's hook finally latches onto the lower shelf. "Catch!" he calls.

Tommy splashes towards the end of the rope. "Thanks!"

Ranboo's neck prickles. Wait. That's - he knows what that is.

Ice tingles out to his fingertips. Instinct presses him down, legs crumpled under him, frozen in a squished-up heap on the edge of the pit.

Don't move. Don't look up. Stay completely quiet and the human won't see you.

Except the human will. The rope's dangling in plain sight, about as obvious as a streak of fresh paint. Even if the human misses Ranboo - and he stands out like spilled ink - the human isn't going to miss the rope or the bag or - or Tommy.

A shudder travels up through the machine, the tiled floor shaking. Any second now the human's going to appear in the doorway and- okay, listen, facts about the situation, right now.

Fact number 1:

Actually, nope, no time for that.

Ranboo leans over the edge. "Head back to the house," he whispers.

Tommy's hair bounces with the swaying of the rope. Bottles rattle on the shelves. At the edge of Ranboo's vision something mildew-green and sort of unbelievably enormous thunders in.

Ranboo - Ranboo isn't sure how he got on the floor, really. He wasn't even sure he could run this fast.

A voice rumbles through the air.

Glass slams down.

Ranboo's elbows skid across smooth tile first, just before the pack crashes into him and his face hits the ground. Breath wrenches out of him in sharp gasps. A glittery dome of glass curves down on every side, small flower patterns sparkling around the edge.

One enormous sandal blots out half the doorway. At the top of the dome the human's fingers lift away, light streaming in. Ranboo's breathing hitches. Yep, that's right, look at him, he's right here. Don't look anywhere else.

"Knew I heard something last night." The human's voice fills the tiny space, hums through the glass, pounds into Ranboo's head.

Ranboo's knees crawl up to his chest.

"What to do with you?"

As though the human needs to plan something in particular. Tears well up in Ranboo's eyes.

He could be crushed in two seconds, it'd be so easy, just like the time he swung off the porch and stepped on an ant by mistake - the human definitely doesn't need to come up with anything creative. No, stop it, stop, he doesn't want to think that, he doesn't want to imagine that.

Except oh gods it doesn't matter if he doesn't want to think about it, does it? It won't stop it from happening.

He hopes Tommy's running to the house by now.

Does he actually need the twenty-six inches of bright blue wire uncurled all over the table, the chair, and the floor?

The answer is yes. It looks great. Every cozy living room should have a little wire here and there. Also, it works fairly well for hiding things, such as a human pocket watch you're carefully picking the battery out of.

"Hi," Ranboo says.

Tubbo pries the battery up. "Hey, man."

The tips of his shoes drum the sofa cushions. He waits for Tommy to burst in, jumping into the gap with the first thing that strikes him as a conversation starter.

Ranboo is alone on the rug, hunched over the bag he's clutching.

Tubbo's heart drops. "Where's Tommy?"

"Tommy?" Ranboo's head swivels around, fairy lights dancing in his sunglasses.

"Is he still outside?"

"Is he outside?" Ranboo's messing with him. He's trying to see just when Tubbo will panic.

Tubbo flattens out his voice to mild curiosity. "He went out borrowing with you. Don't you know where he is?"

Ranboo shuffles sideways and flaps a book out of his fancy little vest. The book's held together with staples, the edges stained with fingerprints.

He closes it up again quickly. "It's all right! He's borrowing soap, that's all."

Apparently he needs a book to invent that excuse. Tubbo wonders whether Ranboo picked that one on purpose or if he opened it at random and thought, ah, yes, that's a classic, can't go wrong with that one.

"Borrowing soap?" Tubbo's voice is steady. "How far away is that?"

"Not very? Only a few rooms over, actually, it shouldn't take too long for him to come back."

A time limit. Bright blue wire loops across Tubbo's sleeves and coils along the floor. Ranboo's trying to raise his hopes, setting up some imaginary time to expect Tommy back.

Tubbo isn't falling for it.

Wires clamp into place. A cord snaps onto the end of the fairy lights. Once Tommy flickers through his mind, just suddenly there, loud and enthusiastic and rambling on about human music. Tubbo clips the battery in and listens to the hum. Imagine what the place will look like when it goes off.

"I'm going out to look for him, actually," Ranboo announces.

As though Tommy wasn't borrowing soap 'only a few rooms over.' Like Tommy wasn't going to be coming back.

Don't call him out on that, let him talk, figure out what he's planning, Tubbo's brain says, only his mouth gets there first. "You sure you want to do that?" he asks, just a tiny bit too casually. "He might be here in a minute."

"Maybe he's having trouble? Maybe he got a bit lost."

"Really. That's the best you can come up with." It comes out blunter than it's supposed to.

"I don't know?" Ranboo's hands twist together. "I think it's worth looking, at least."

It's the most rubbish excuse Tubbo's heard. It gets a free pass.

"You know what? Go ahead," he says.

His thumb traces circles on the remote while Ranboo bundles himself into a bulging backpack, tugs at his shoelaces, and fumbles his gloves on. "I'll be back soon," he calls, and staggers out the door.

Tubbo counts sixty under his breath. He slips the remote in his pocket. Yes, actually, the spare coil of red wire is necessary, it looks just about perfect over his shoulder.

He leaves the front door open.

It could be a trap. It could be one elaborate trap from beginning to end. Ranboo might've set it up to separate them so they'd be easier targets - he could've told Tommy an entirely different story to keep him out of the way while he dealt with Tubbo.

Tubbo still follows. Tommy is the closest thing he has to family. If there's the tiniest chance he could be alive Tubbo's going to take it.

Up ahead Ranboo's outline melts into a far larger silhouette. The edge of his hair rises over the top and disappears. It's a minute before Tubbo catches up, and several seconds before he figures out where the nails are and how to climb them. This has to be where Ranboo's trying to kill him, down that dark, narrow, round hole with the hatch left open.

Tubbo puts one hand on the remote. He drops through.

There's a split second when he hears Ranboo's voice and whirls on his good ankle, arms flying, before he realizes it's coming from the grate a few steps away.

Past the grate it's a sheer drop to an immense clothes rack. Ranboo's darting from one of the rungs to the top of a square machine.

"Tommy?" he calls, "Where are you?"

A small voice floats out of the open chasm in the second machine. "Nice weather we're having, innit?"

It's Tommy. It's so completely Tommy.

It's the voice he puts on when he's scared - an ounce too loud, strung tight like a bit of thread. Tubbo's hands clench on the grate.

Ranboo sounds exactly like an innocent bystander. Who, him? Gosh, no, he's never heard of washing machines in his life, he has no idea why Tommy would be in one, he definitely didn't push Tommy in and run off, what are you talking about?

He doesn't say that. It's all in his voice. He sounds like he spent the trip worried sick over Tommy, like he didn't know where Tommy was the whole time.

"So is your bag up there?" He's asking where the scissors are. He wants to know how much of a threat Tommy is right now.

"Still there."

"I'll climb up and get it once you're out. Just a minute!"

It's not actually a minute, it's at least two and several missed tries. Tubbo's finished twining the end of the red wire around one bar of the grate by the time Ranboo shouts, "Catch!"

"Thanks!" Tommy calls back.

Tubbo stops, one leg halfway through the grate. His spine goes rigid.

It's a human. Even across the building the steps thrum through the walls. Ranboo isn't even going to handle Tommy personally, he's going to leave him for the human to take care of.

In a minute Ranboo's going to straighten up and take off. Any minute now. He's already had his fun making Tommy think he was going to be rescued, he has to be just about done here, isn't he? He's curled in an awkward little huddle on the edge, and it doesn't make a lot of sense. It's like he's actually waiting for Tommy to climb up. He's whispering something, in fact, leaning out over the opening for a second.

Does anything Tubbo can do, at this point, make a difference? That's a good question, a valid and very appropriate question to ask at this time, and the answer is he doesn't care.

Tubbo plunges through the grate, wire snaking out after him. His first glimpse of the human is an enormous green striped hat.

At the same time Ranboo dives off, slithers down the clothes rack, and runs toward the human.

Tubbo's ears ring with the voice.

The striped hat lurches back.

In two dizzying motions the human's hand whisks a glass soap dish off the shelf and claps it down.

Tubbo's stomach swoops. Under the glass Ranboo's crumpled like a shred of paper. It's- it's not a trap. There's no way it could be a trap. This isn't just some game Ranboo's playing.

The human's voice rolls out deafeningly, trembling through the wire. "Knew I heard something last night."

Green stripes tip forward over the dish. "What to do with you?"

Tubbo doesn't want to see this next part, actually. He's not interested in watching this. Ranboo never actually hurt either of them, whatever he was planning to do, and he's- he's giving Tommy time to escape, right now, and that does not make sense if he's trying to murder them, because obviously he can't do that if the human kills him first - and Tubbo doesn't want to see that when it happens.

There's a long breath that makes his skin crawl. "It's a little dude." It almost sounds like disbelief in the human's whisper.

"Hi, little guy?" It drops quieter. "You okay?"

"Step away from him."

The striped hat sweeps up in a gust of air. Piercing blue eyes fix on Tubbo. He holds the remote in plain sight, one finger on the button.

"Step away from him," he repeats. "Once I press this button the building will explode."

It won't. A very small section - specifically, Ranboo's house - will. The human doesn't need to know that.

He doesn't blink as the human rises, stretching up in seconds past the height of the machines and the shelves. "If you take a step closer I'll press it." Tubbo's voice comes out exactly right. "Don't even think about it."

"Slow down, mate." One gigantic sandal steps back. "Easy there. I'm not coming closer, don't worry."

It's the moment to escape quietly, without interfering or attracting attention or entering the situation at all, so Tommy goes for all three.

"You'd better stay right there!" he shouts.

He's standing on the second shelf, rope dangling over his shoulder, pointing the thread scissors at the human. "I won't hesitate! Stay back!"

"It's okay, I am, I'm staying where I am." The human's voice is just on the edge of a whisper. "Take a deep breath, little guy."

"Wh- Little!" Tommy squawks. "I'll have you know I am a big man!"

"Sure you are." A laugh bubbles under the words.

"The biggest, in fact! Ask anyone you meet!"

"I'll keep that in mind." It's still quiet, smoothed out to a low rumble. "I'm Phil, by the way. Hi. I live here - not sure if you knew that. Didn't mean to interrupt, er, whatever you were doing in here. Keep it up. Is the one down here a friend of yours?"

Tubbo tenses. "If you touch him-"

"I know, I know. It's all right, mate, I'm not anywhere near him. Just thought I might be able to lift the soap dish off him - if you'd be okay with that."

Tubbo isn't. Should the human's hand be within five miles of Ranboo? Right off the bat he can say that no, no it shouldn't.

Tubbo's also keeping hold of the situation by a hair, exactly as long as it takes for the human to figure out he's lying. The minute he says no and the human does it anyway, it'll be obvious which of them is actually in control of matters.

"Sure," Tubbo says, after a pause a second too long.

Glass clinks on the tiled floor. Ranboo's curled up under the bulk of his backpack.

"Gods, I am so sorry, I thought- I thought your friend was a mouse or something - really large beetle, maybe." The human's voice flutters with a wobbly chuckle.

Ranboo is breathing. It's shaky and off-balance but he's breathing. It's not entirely ideal that he's on the ground, or that he's within easy reach of the human, but it's not an entirely ideal world.

Blue eyes flick back to Tubbo. "Do you- can I ask what your names are? Do you three have names?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Tommy crows, over Tubbo's quick "No."

The human's voice doesn't go sailing above the same low whisper. "That's fair. That's understandable. Can I get you anything, or does this, uh, conclude our business here, so to speak?"

"We don't need your help, thanks," Tommy fires back immediately.

"Take a step back," Tubbo says, at the same time, "Another step, farther away. No sudden movements. If you come an inch closer to any of us I'll press this button."

"It's all right, mate." One edge of the striped hat brushes the doorframe. "I was just about to be on my way."

Like it's really that easy. Like the human will actually turn around and leave, just like that.

Like Tubbo will believe that.

"Sorry for intruding, didn't mean to bother you. I won't even come near this part of the house, I promise, for - half an hour? An hour? As long as you three plan to be here."

"Two hours," Tommy jumps in.

"As much time as you need." It ticks upward the tiniest bit at the end, wavering into a laugh. "Have fun."

This is it.

This is the moment the human drops the act.

It's the part where they all die and there's nothing Tubbo can do about it. Ranboo's closest, the most obvious one to go for, the human would just need to take two steps forward - except that would be too quick, that's not how humans do it. Humans take their time.

Tubbo's throat tightens. It might be him first. It might be Tommy.

Green stripes swoop up as the hat flies by. The wire sways, caught in the draft. Footsteps shake the tiled floor and thunder away into the distance.

Echoes quiver back weakly through the walls.

Phil - which is the human's name - knows what's good for him.

He's not going to stick around and take his chances against the only man alive. In a display of surprising intelligence he's politely taken his leave, and Tommy doesn't blame him.

That's what's called a strategic retreat. Tommy knows all about those. He's known far and wide for his massive vocabulary of long words.

He calculates up how long the human will give them and the number has a vague look of being somewhere between two minutes and fifteen. Which is the closest estimate he can make, because humans don't have the common decency to be predictable. He figures it's safe to count on six, maybe seven.

In two minutes he's running across the floor to Ranboo. "Over here! This way!"

He's taking the clothes rack in stride - he's not letting a thing like that stand in his way - in probably two more minutes. He's got a good hold on Ranboo's sleeve.

There's a half minute before Tubbo looks down, his eyes too bright and too glossy. The remote is shaking.

"Go!" Tommy shouts, "Up the wire, go!"

Tubbo scrabbles up out of sight. Tommy tumbles into the vent on Ranboo's heels. Six minutes. They made it.

Phil should've thought twice before underestimating him. A daring escape in less than ten minutes? No challenge at all! The simplest thing in the world. Daring escapes are his specialty.

Anyone else would have done the same - only not as swiftly and cleverly. No human can hope to match Tommy's tactical genius.

Red wire twists up in stiff loops. Tubbo wrenches the end free from the grate, and suddenly every bit of steel in his spine sags out at once.

"We're alive," he says.

He barrels into Tommy. His voice comes out muffled through his jacket fluff. "We did it, boss man! We're alive!"

Tommy spins him in a dizzy half-circle. "You did it, Tubbo! Were you listening to yourself? You were like, if you don't back off I'm going to- wait, you actually do have an explosive somewhere, don't you! Can't believe you never showed me! I bet it's massive. Like nukes or something-"

"I was ready to nuke the human's house." Tubbo laughs faintly.

"-obviously Phil ran off! Must've been the sheer intimidation of the two of us combined. We're unstoppable."

"Completely unstoppable," Tubbo agrees. "Bad news for the humans."

"They're all living in terror of the day we visit."

"Yeah." It's not quite Tubbo's ordinary voice anymore. "Think we'd better do that? Visit somewhere else, I mean."

"Probably. Wouldn't want to overstay our welcome and all that."

Tubbo's arms fold in tighter. The trim on his jacket smells like glue and petrol. Tommy squeezes back.

In the corner, bent in like he's trying to pretend he's a reasonable height, Ranboo picks at the hem of his vest. Tommy's never seen him without his sunglasses before. Anyone would think he was just some ordinary person, looking a bit scared, probably having a bad day.

He blinks at the hand Tubbo holds out to him. "I- sorry? Did I, um-"

"Want to come with us?" Tubbo offers.

"Really?" Ranboo's voice skips higher. "I'd, um, I'd like that. If you're sure - no pressure, of course, you really don't have to if you'd rather not."

"Why not?" It's one of his proper grins, pointy-edged and real. "It's the least we can do. We owe you one, big guy."

"Yeah, thanks!" Tommy joins in.

Ranboo's smile is a little wobbly. "Oh. Okay."

He goes promptly rigid as Tommy pulls him into the hug, but Tommy is exceptionally good at hugging, if he does say so himself - years of experience have made him into the man he is today - and where a lesser man might've quailed at the difficulty, Tommy just puts one arm on Ranboo's back and keeps the other one on Tubbo's and it all works out.

Ranboo's a rotten murderer, anyway- going around trying to save the life of the person he wants to murder. He should start considering alternate careers.

Tommy reckons there's two options here, actually, and one of them's so logically inconsistent it'll fall over if you breathe in its direction. First one, Ranboo is genuinely trying to kill them and wants to do it personally, which is why he ran out and drew Phil's attention away from Tommy. Except getting captured by a human isn't something you just bounce back from. Ranboo was putting his life on the line and he knew it.

Which, honestly, doesn't add up. It's like putting together puzzle pieces when some of them are from a different puzzle. Option two says Ranboo is an ordinary decent individual who just happens to own a pair of scissors.

Tommy didn't think he'd find himself even thinking this, but option two means that all those puzzle pieces fit together.

Tubbo's hair presses into his cheek and Ranboo's arm settles a little hesitantly around his back. Probably they've got a couple more minutes before the human comes back. They can stay like this a little longer.