#also try crocheting if youre able. i almost always need to be doing at least 2 things at once but most things zone me out of the other

[sea-buns]

I have very conveniently started listening to podcasts and crocheting for the first time, at the same time. It's been so helpful that I do it during any time consuming media that doesn't require my eyes at all times. And here's a thing I've learned about myself in the process. I am so used to having the audio AND visual, that when something insane is revealed, I will whip my head up at the screen in shock. But cuz nothing is there I just end up staring at my own face reflected back in my sleeping pc screen.

[forever-rogue]

Joel teaching reader how to swim and hella sexual tension I would DIE

I am a sucker for the thought of Joel teaching reader how to do anything

AN | Shut up though, I loved writing this! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆���. ───

Joel had taught you a lot of things since you'd met him almost two years ago.

He'd taught you how to shoot properly, despite the fact that you nearly blew his head off. He had the patience of a saint, but claimed he had the heart of a sinner. Either way - he was the one that taught you.

He'd taught you how to drive, despite the fact that there was no real reason for you to know. Sure, you had been plenty old enough drive before the end of the world but had never wanted to. These days it just seemed like a novelty. Even though you had managed to back into a tree - a feat he still wasn't sure how you managed - he still was patient and gentle with you. 

The man had taught you a lot of useful things and skills, and you were always an eager learner. If anything, you enjoyed being in his company. 

In turn you'd shown him some of your own skills and tricks. You were sure they paled in comparison but you couldn't deny the fact that it was hilarious to watch him try and bake. He might have been a decent cook but a baker, he was not. And yet you still ate his hard, flavorless cookies with a big smile on your face.

You loved getting to show him how to crochet, despite how frustrated he grew at the delicate materials in his hands. You set him right over and over again but never lost your patience even when he was ready to give up. He'd ended up making you an off kilter scarf; you adored it.

It was a trade off between the two of you; give and take, take and give. Sometimes it was the little things, like him making sure you'd remembered to eat or bringing you a coffee or you making sure he'd rested or didn't forget any of his tools. 

You didn't really know where that left the two of you, in this sort of weird limbo where you were neither just friends but also not lovers. It was…odd. Sometimes you were ready to step across the line, to step from the garden into the jungle and finally just kiss him but you never quite worked up the needed bravado. Joel experienced significant moments of weakness, ones where he desired to pull you into his arms and kiss you dizzy, but he never let him spiral. Instead he kept his distance, yearning and yearning and yearning.

But now? Now he was convinced you were trying to kill him.

And it had all started one lazy evening when he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Idiot, he cursed himself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"What do you mean you don't know how to swim?" Joel almost choked on his beer as you offered him a sheepish little smile, "that's - its - I…that's a basic life skill!"

"I dunno," you felt your face warming and warming under his intense scrutiny, sure you would explode from the look in his eyes, "I just never learned and never really a need to."

"What if some sort of emergency happened and you needed to swim, huh?" He leaned back in his chair and regarded you with curiosity, a smile dancing across his features, "you just gonna drown?"

"No," you waved him off, "I always thought that I'd be able to just…figure out."

"Right," he was holding back his laughter, you could tell, "of course."

"Joel Miller!" You huffed at him, "do not laugh at me!"

"I'm not!"

"You are too," you looked at him with a pout and he leaned forward to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. The simple shiver felt electric, "don't be mean…please."

"I'm not, sweetheart," he promised, "but I am going to teach you how to swim."

"What?!"

"Yes," he nodded cooly, "and you don't get a choice so don't bother arguing. You need to know how…and even if you never swim again, at least you'll know how to."

"Fine," you pretended to glare at him, your expression falling so far away from that, "fine."

"Fine," he nodded in agreement, "this weekend at the lake."

He had no idea he'd just signed his death warrant.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you made your way over to the lake. You had your bathing suit on under your baggy t-shirt and jean shorts. This felt so…normal. That alone brought a smile to your face.

Joel was already there, a blanket and some towels and a picnic basket on the ground next to him. If you'd been looking at him and not stunned at everything he'd brought, you might have noticed the way his entire face lit up.

"Joel," you finally turned to him and felt your legs already turn to tell at the sight of him, "you've…definitely gone well above what I expected."

"Well, I had to make this a good first time…e-experience," his cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you giggled at him.

"A good first time, huh?" You teased and yeah. You were absolutely going to be the death of him.

"First time swimming," he stared at his feet, mentally kicking himself for how foolish you made him feel, "first experience with swimming."

"Relax Miller," you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I'm just teasin'."

"You're being cruel," he insisted as you shrugged innocently, "we're here for a very serious purpose."

"You're right," you nodded firmly, "let's get started…unless you want to eat first?"

"Food after," he insisted as you playfully rolled your eyes and nodded. You kicked off your slides and tugged down your shorts. Your t-shirt had been oversize and baggy enough that nothing was really showing. 

This much Joel could handle. This was still in the safe zone. He mirrored your actions and pulled down his pants, leaving his bottom half in swim trunks. You took a moment to admire that much of him.

Then you did it; you almost gave him a heart attack as you lifted up your shirt, making quick work of throwing it off and discarding it into the growing clothes pile. Joel inhaled sharply as he looked you over with wide eyes.

You were wearing a two-piece, one that first you perfectly, highlight every curve, and looked like it was made for you. Joel was almost drooling as he willed himself not stare at your ass or breasts, reminding himself that this was just to teach you to swim. A valuable life skill. 

But he was slowly forgetting that with each passing moment, drinking you in and trying his best to remain respectful. You were just so damn beautiful.

You caught him staring and instantly shied away, worried by his silent reaction, "is this too much? Should I try and change into something else-

"No!"

"This was the only one I could scrounge up," you nervously scratched the back of your neck, "nobody seemed to have anything better."

Right. Because no one else in Jackson had something better or more modest. They did, of course they did, but…they were also tired of watching the two of you moon over each other and thought that maybe this would push the two of you in the right direction. Friendly encouragement, Ellie would call it.

"It's fine," it was anything but fine. It was giving him a heart attack and a hard on, "really."

"Okay," you nodded shyly as he cleared his throat, "come on then, I can't be the only one this exposed!"

Joel hesitated for a moment before moving to take off his shirt. It was something he still struggled with at times, but he knew that you'd never judge him. If there was anything he trusted, it was you.

As soon as he was shirtless you had to work to keep from jumping his bones. He was always insanely attractive in that rugged, handsome way and this was no exception. Golden skin marred with the harshness and cruelty of the years and dotted with freckles. You wanted to map them out with your lips, to taste him, and make him yours. It could be so simple, really. All you had to do-

"Hey," Joel snapped you out of your little daydream fantasy and you looked back at him with a soft, dreamy smile, "take a picture, huh?"

"Ha ha," damn. He'd caught you red-handed, "let's get started."

"Get in the water," he insisted as he jerked his head to the side.

"Pardon?"

"Dive right in," he repeated, "I'll go first and make sure you don't drown, sweetheart. Gotta learn to tread water first and foremost."

"I…I'm nervous," you confessed softly, "what if I can't do it?"

"You can," he promised softly, "I have full faith in you. And you know I would never let anything happen to you."

You both knew he was right.

"Okay. I trust you," you whispered, walking to the water's edge. 

It was sink or swim, and something told you that was going to be applicable for multiple things today.

"Good," he promised, "come on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Turned out that swimming wasn't too bad at all. Or too hard. What was that old expression - like a duck to water? Well that happened to be you. It probably didn't hurt that you didn't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel, so you listened closely and tried your best to do exactly what he was telling you.

Admittedly it was hard to stay focused with him close and so bare and so hands on. Every fiber of your being was humming with anticipation and nerves.

"Not so hard," Joel grinned as you swam to a stop in front of him. You were practically glowing under his praise. 

"Not so bad-" but just then you felt something touch your leg, and you shrieked. It was such an odd and unexpected sensation that your body did the first thing it could thing of - grab onto to Joel.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you were holding onto him tightly, pressing your body into his as you willed whatever had touched you to disappear. Joel, naturally and instinctively, wrapped his arm around you in a protective manner, "what's wrong? What happened?"

 “I felt something,” you closed your eyes and buried your face into his neck - his glorious, lovely neck - and tried to calm down, “it was brushed against my leg. It felt so weird and gross.”

“Oh,” and he laughed, the bastard had the audacity to laugh, as you pulled back and looked at him with a pretty pout on your lips. He longed to kiss it away, “we’re in a lake sweetheart, there’s bound to be some fish in here.”

“Fish?” your nose wrinkled in disgust, something which he found endearing as hell, “I…that makes sense. But I don’t like it! It felt horrible.”

“You’re okay,” he promised sweetly, pushing your wet hair behind your ears, “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” there was a palpable shift between the two of you then and there. He didn’t let go of you, and you weren’t in a hurry to pull out of his touch. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Instead, you just looked at him, the human embodiment of heart eyes, “Joel.”

“How much longer are we going to keep doing this?” he asked so quietly that for a moment you wondered if he’d even said anything. But then he was so close, and so close for you to finally kiss.

“D-doing what?” you stammered nervously, well aware of what he meant.

“Dancing around each other,” he brushed his knuckles over your cheek and you made a small sound in the back of your throat, “acting like we don’t want this. So close, but never quite there.”

“We could stop…”

“We should stop,” he agreed with a small nod, tilting his head as he cupped the back of your neck with a soft touch, “if you want to.”

"Oh totally, I want to,” you agreed, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and he was kissing in the sweetest and most gentle touch. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as he pulled you impossibly closer and you melded your body into his. He didn’t stop until you were breathless and definitely in a dizzying love spiral. 

“Look at that,” he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you sighed softly, “nothing happened and you, sweetheart, know how to swim.”

“I had a pretty good teacher,” and with that you kissed him again, lazy and saccharine, neither of you in a rush to end what had been building for so long, “you know?”

“It’s easy when you have a good student,” he teased affectionately, “you’re going to be the death of me…but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you sighed into his touch, “but you love it.”

“I do,” he had to stop himself from saying what was really on his mind just yet. He didn’t want to rush; he wanted to take the time to cultivate what he had with you, to watch it blossom and grow over time, “I do.”

[stars-tonight]

Hi! So…I saw your haikyu matchup thingy and thought…YES.

On that note could I request a long romantic matchup?

The only characters I really have a problem with is Oikawa, kindaichi, and Kunimi. Also slight Atsumu but if you REALLY feel we’re a match (which I doubt) then he’s okay.

I’m a girl and I go by she/her, with a preference for mostly guys but will also do anything for a pretty girl…

My ideal partner varies depending on the day so it’s hard to say. Most of all I enjoy humor (or being able to tease the other). Which is kinda contradictory considering my anime type tends to be the tall, silent, and dense type…however, I also enjoy those that I feel need support or a little lift up. I may or may not have a savior complex.

I’m pretty shy when meeting new people but depending on the dynamic I can pop open and hit you with the most atrocious comment you’ve ever heard. I also tend to be really giggly and laugh at almost every dad joke. I’m also a bit family oriented but in like a sibling way? Essentially my sibling’s are my whole life. My best friends, my worst enemies, my everything.

I like to crochet and I’m in community service club. And I (obv) watch anime and really like reading romance/fantasy books!

Not sure what my receiving is but possible words or touch? Even quality time? Definitely not gifts. I know my giving is touch and words tho.

Ideal date would be something indoors where we can talk or admire something and share opinions. Like an aquarium or even board game night or smth.

I’m a big foodie and I have a GIANT sweet tooth. I’m allergic to cats sadly but they would totally be my favorite pet. My mbti is an INFJ and my enneagram is 9w1. Top characters are Tsuki, Yamaguchi (we have the same b-day 😈), Ushijima, and Bokuto.

I think that’s it IM SO SORRY ITS SO LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY. I REALLT LIKE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF WHEN I CAN

-but can I be 👻 anon?

headcanons

🥛 first tsukki match in more than a month 🥳

🥛 honestly i thought of tsukishima before even seeing that he was one of your favorite characters lol

🥛 idk how skilled tsukishima is at "humor" but you'll definitely be able to tease each other

🥛 although he can sometimes be a little mean with it so hopefully you're okay with that

🥛 if you ever get genuinely upset by something he says though, he'll fs realize it and make it up to you somehow

🥛 which brings me to my point about love languages . . . i think tsukki's giving love languages are definitely acts of service or quality time, maybe a teeeeensy bit of physical touch

🥛 maybe both at the same time, like if he notices you're cold he'll wrap his scarf around you and pat your head or something after (while scolding you for not wearing something warm)

🥛 his receiving love language would maybe be physical touch

🥛 he says he hates it but he's secretly blushing and trying to hide his face so you can't see and make fun of him for it

🥛 also tsukki is tall and silent but definitely not dense, at least not when it comes to academics

🥛 he's pretty dense when it comes to social interactions or romantic gestures, ngl

🥛 he also cares a lot about his brother so it's cool that you're both family / sibling oriented

🥛 if he's going to settle down with someone i feel like he secretly needs them to be approved by his family, especially his brother

🥛 also since you share the same birthday as yamaguchi, it's simpler for tsukishima to get you both presents and prepare celebrations

🥛 tsukki always says it's easier than having to remember a separate day

🥛 (but you know he'd take care to memorize your birthday no matter what day it is)

🥛 tsukki definitely prefers staying in to going out and likes private, indoor dates

🥛 he likes the aquarium date because you can ask him questions about the marine life and he can rattle off facts and appear smart

🥛 he'd always scold you for eating too much candy

🥛 i could see him as a reader but not the romance / fantasy genre, if you somehow get him to read a romance novel he'll be rolling his eyes at every cheesy scene and grumbling about how he can't believe you got him to read something like this

runner up for you was sakusa kiyoomi!

A/N: hello 👻anon! i am so sorry about the long wait but hopefully you like your matchup :)

[iamthecomet]

Daily update on into the eyes of fire, on yesterday and on today

You‘re so right. Being a perfectionist for me often means that I will not do something at all. Having that mixed with executive dysfunction just doesn’t work out great most of the time.

I‘m happy to talk to you about it, thank you for the offer! I‘m so excited to finish the first chapter, because then I’ll be able to tell so much more

I‘m also very glad that the day was better for you, and that your keyboard works again. For me it was a lot better as well. I had two friends coming over (that also stayed with me for the night) and it was really nice. We managed to finish watching season two of the Witcher, complained about overpowered characters and bad writing together

Then my ADHD kicked in as the others got really tired (they have a nighttime routine that took soooo long, goodness. I‘m glad if I’m able to brush my teeth for 3 minutes). It was pretty funny tho (I put this TikTok sound with „more passion, more passion, more energy, more energy, more footwork…“ on, held the speaker in my hands and danced around (it was a lot of fun tbh. I missed having these random bursts of energy, often caused by having a lot of sugar). It also made me tired so I got to sleep after that

Yeah! Casual nudity ghouls are awesome (they also made me more comfy with nudity, to the point of me running around shirtless at home from time to time. Yesterday even when my friends were over (it was so fucking hot). Like, I was always pretty comfy with nudity, but not to that point)

I did indeed get some drawing done! I finished the third panel of four on the third page (I just need the backgrounds for those first three as well, but I wanna do them all at once)

Today I had a lot of work to do and technically still do, but I am beyond tired and just gave up. Tomorrow will be two checkups and I’m absolutely not ready for one, but I fucking can’t anymore. I‘ll just try with luck because honestly, there is no way in hell I’m able to function enough to do work right now (I’m already glad that I managed to eat something now because my bloodsugar is probably way too low and I think it’s the reason for why I feel so terrible (physically) right now, so I think I’ll look for a sugary drink as well)

I have a headache but I’m really hoping that I‘ll be able to draw for at least an hour now, and that I’ll possibly even finish the third page

I Hope your day was good/is good, and that you got some stuff done that you wanted to do!

~ @owlishanon

Yay progress!! You've done so much work on it this week! I've gotten almost nothing actually finished this week, but it's ok. Sometimes things are just like that. I have a crochet project I'm hoping to finish today. And someday I'll get back into a consistent writing schedule, but probably not today. And your night with your friends sounds so fun!! All of my close friends live at least an hour and a half away from me at this point. So I don't get to have those nights as often as I used to. I hope everything went/goes well today. That sounds stressful, but I'm sure you'll make it through. You've got this!!

[goddess-pan]

Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP

Dsmp x reader prompt; Tailor!Reader in Dream SMP. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.

Can fully be read as platonic. GN!reader with they/them pronounce as a placeholder so anyone can adapt it however they want. Both general and character specific parts included.

Characters who have a lot written for/about; Eret, Ranboo, Foolish, Tommy, Technoblade, Philza and Michael. Mentioned; Tubbo, Sam Nook, Purpled and Foolish Jr.

This ended up being super long so I’m putting it under the cut in order not to clutter people’s pages. My personal favourite part is Phil’s and Techno’s part. These could be read as headcanons but are still available as a prompt(s) to use for anyone.

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

The reader joining after the doomsday as a time frame in my mind.

The reader helping people patch up their current clothes since most of it got pretty banged up during the doomsday, and it's not like they can just go get a new outfit since quite a few people had just lost all their belongings and only had the clothes on their back. So at first prioritizing helping patch up the current clothing people were wearing and then moving on to making some simple fast to make and easy on the resources clothes for people. Just like basic shirts and shorts/pants, nothing fancy. Then when everyone has at least a couple of different clothes to change to and from starting their own business to sell people more if they wanted. However waving payment if they brought them the materials and what they wanted wasn't overly complicated.

People at first thinking they are just some chump who knows basic sewing or something. A very kind chump, but still a chump. So imagine their surprise when one day they are just walking by the reader's now established tailors and they see these absolutely stunning designs displayed at the windows. 

Just like their reactions seeing these beautiful designs they can't help but stare at. I'd imagine some of them just doing a double take when they walk by, someone pressing their face up to the glass trying to see it closer, the braver ones going inside and talking to the reader about their designs and the more anxious and/or shy ones only going inside when the reader isn't there to look at designs closer. 

And the reasons they like/are amazed by the designs vary also ! Some just have monkey brain that goes "Pretty. WANT", some who just love the colour and art of the pieces, some who imagine how epic this design or others would look on them, some who love the fashion aspect of it and of course the very small portion who actually know anything about tailoring/sewing and the amount of work that goes into making something intricate.

Some specific character/group interactions I thought of;

Making warm well insulated clothes for people moving to Snowchester so they don't freeze. +A warm cape for Ranboo for the same reason.

Eret being one of the firsts (if not the first) to get himself a fully tailored and customized outfit. Them also being the first and very possibly only person to get a dress or a skirt since most of the other people on the server prefer to wear pants (excluding maid dresses which people might get as joke). The reader crying in joy for getting to design something different for once. And hey if the reader ends up making a few extra ones that she didn't order, but decided to give her anyway it was all just some extra ones they had lying around, never mind the fact that the dresses/skirts are perfectly tailored for Eret and are her style. Just a coincidence, nothing suspicious there. Eret also models for the reader and once he even convinced them to hold a fashion show to showcase some of their work to the whole server. Of course he was the main model presenting the outfits.

At start of the reader beginning to display their designs at their shop Ranboo sees a really cool looking suit on display and his brain just goes "Want." He probably wouldn't be able to buy anything pre-made and be comfortable in it due to his physique. And him having just moved into the arctic and only starting to get settled in, he doesn't have comfortable enough funds for him to get something as expensive as a custom tailored suit AND have enough for any possible rent that he might be required to pay. 

Eventually when he gets richer he starts considering getting one but the anxious side of him always ends up winning and he doesn't. However once he finally gets the courage to go commission the suit for himself he doesn't regret it at all. The reader did their best to not overwhelm him and to make it the best possible experience. Just imagining the absolute joy he would feel for having a properly fitting suit that's made just for him, not too short sleeves nor too wide torso and shoulders, just perfect. If he ends up ordering a couple more suits that's between him and the reader. He actually ends up probably being their most frequent and reliable customer.

And we should all know why that is, but let me clarify just in case; Michael.

The reader basically becoming Michael's personal stylist (/hj) . Not only does Ranboo buy a god awful amount of clothes for Michael, the reader also makes some free ones for him. The free ones are things the reader felt like designing since they absolutely adore Michael and the ones Ranboo pays for are commissioned by him. Michael absolutely has the biggest wardrobe in the whole server. The reader learning how to make plushies so Michael could have some more toys, this learning experience including learning to crochet and knit to see what he like best.

Using their newly acquired plush making skills, the reader starts their quest to make some plushies for others after seeing people stare at the plushies wistfully either while they were working on them or seeing Michael with the plushies. People who got them include the minors, their close friends and basically anyone they thought might benefit from them. Some of the ones they made (that I could think of);

Of course a bee for Tubbo, but also throwing in a little ram one as well

Ranboo gets a grass block plush/pillow

Tommy gets a cobblestone block plush and a cow plush. He also later receives a Sam Nook plush while he's working on the hotel

Purpled getting two different sized ufos, one to hold and the other more of a big pillow

Eret definitely gets a flamingo plush

Foolish gets a totem and a gold block plushies

Phil gets crow plush as well these tiny fake coin and gem plushies (the latter causes problems for him which I'll expand upon later)

Techno gets a pig one as well as polar bear one

Back to the individual/group part

The reader just chilling w/ Foolish as a fellow artists. Them talking about both their arts and catching up every time the reader comes to deliver something to Snowchester when Foolish is building the mansion. Just two pretty peaceful artists talking about their passions. I’d imagine Foolish and the reader could relate to each other and their place in the server due to their similar hobbies/jobs as well as their similar time of joining the server. Foolish's first commission from them being an intricate blanket for Foolish Jr so he could have a more comfortable resting place. He may or may not end up receiving that and several other (though less intricate) blankets as well as a tiny shark plush to give to Foolish Jr. Later on when the reader gets better at either knitting or crocheting they end up making a tiny shark jumper with a hood for Foolish Jr as well. Foolish would definitely cry when he sees his tiny shark baby. Any commissions of clothes for himself tend to always take some time due to sheer amount of work needing to be done due to his size so he always makes sure the reader doesn’t already have a lot on their plate and that they know he’s fine with waiting if they need to take a break from it.

Then there's Tommy, who they sometimes teach more about sewing since he already knows some basics. Him probably being the first person aside from Michael they make a plush for, due to him demanding one once he saw the reader making them. Then proceeding to get three plushies in rapid succession. The first being the cobblestone, the second being the cow and the third one being the Sam Nook one. He ends up losing one of them during the prison fiasco and when the reader asks if he'd like a new one they only get the answer of "Don't want to think about what happened and the same one might make me do that". He then promptly receives new clothing (so he isn't wearing the same ones he was wearing in prison) and some extra blankets (for comfort) from the reader. 

After Tommy meeting Michael does he use him to scam the reader to make them matching outfits for free? Yes, yes he does. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Are they bothered by it? Not really, they look adorable in their matching outfits.

The reader being the source for Sam Nook's construction gear/clothes or at least the original patterns for them.

And then there's the arctic boys (minus Ranboo, who will still get mentioned) who are an interesting bunch clothing wise. The first one to commission the reader out of them would be Phil who got the original warm cape for Ranboo but also at the same time commissioned one for himself that would include slits for his wings. Eventually getting to design clothing for him which is always an exciting challenge with his wings. And when Phil finally manages to convince Techno to get something made for himself as well, Techno almost immediately gets addicted to having high quality clothing when they finish their first piece for him. The fun the reader has designing clothes for these boys is immeasurable with their different styles and needs in the clothing. Aside from clothing Techno also commissions them for a pet bed for Steve. 

When the boys got their plushies it was adorable but also a very chaotic. Techno giving his pig one to Steve so he wouldn't miss him when he was away from home, but also bringing the polar bear one with him when he couldn't or wasn't allowed to bring Steve with him but still needed comfort. While on Phil's side of things; he was showing his crows the crow plushie joking about he'll replace them if they aren't careful however he made the mistake of showing them the tiny coin and gem plushies as well. I want you to imagine hundreds of crows descending upon this poor fool of a man in the background while the reader is walking away hoping they like their plushies. 

The war that ensued the couple following days amongst the crows starts to cool down but the bickering doesn't, every waking moment Phil can feel eyes on him and one or more of the crows coming to complain about the others having had the shiny plushies for too long. He quickly caves under the pressure and commissions more of the tiny shiny treasure plushies. And by more I mean a lot more. 

When he finally has enough of the things he goes around distributing them to the crows. Finally a moment of peace, but he still feels like something is staring at him occasionally. Deciding to ignore it since it's finally quiet he goes to makes himself a cup of tea and while waiting for the water to boil he fishes out the few shiny plushies he had saved for himself. The second he does he feels eyes burning into him and now that it's quiet he hears it, quiet muffled snuffles and snorts of discontent. Then he sees what ‘it’ is, it's Techno behind the window looking at the shinies in his hand with such intensity Phil fears for his life (/hj). Phil just sighs deeply before walking over to the window and opening it. For a second Techno looks like a deer in headlights before returning to intensely staring at the shinies in Phil's hand before Phil just dumps the shiny plushies into Techno's hand and closes the window. Happy piglin noises can be heard outside while Phil debates the pros (getting to have shinies himself) and cons (the embarrassment of having to commission even more of the shiny plushies than he already has) of getting new ones from the reader. And in all this the reader has no idea the amount of chaos they inadvertently caused.

And finally; Techno commissioning robes/cloaks for whole the Syndicate to wear in their meetings, because he’s dramatic like that. But since he’s a thoughtful guy, he wants them all to fit the members well and not be uncomfortable to wear so he gets everyone’s measurements. Once he has them all he goes to the reader with the order for the robes, he has all the measurements written down under just Person 1, Person 2 etc. to keep their anonymity and when asked what the robes are for he just tells the reader it’s a book club. When he gets them all and the reader asks no further questions he thinks he’s gotten away with getting some cool robes for the Syndicate with their secrets safe. Little does he know the reader actually now knows all the members in the Syndicate since they can just reference the gotten measurements with everyone’s measurements written down from previous work done by them. Whether the reader thinks it’s some weird cult they all are a part of or just an actual book club people are too embarrassed to admit they are in, is up to interpretation. 

[merianmoriarty]

Adapting Yarncraft Skills for the Disabled

If you have two standard-issue arms in working order with standard-issue accessories (two average-mobility hands with five average-mobility phalanges each), yay!  There’s one set of adaptations you don’t need to make.

If you have full-body or lower-body mobility issues, such as limited leg mobility (or intense leg pain which would likewise limit your mobility) or limited number of legs (which may or may not affect your mobility), make sure your project supplies are in easy reach.  I recommend keeping it all in a large bag or tote, but anything that will let you keep it close and contained will do the trick.  I don’t recommend keeping your yarn rolled into traditional (outer-pull) balls, because they may travel quite a lot as they unwind.  If you purchase your yarn in balls or hanks (rather than skeins, which can be pulled from the center or from the outside), I recommend re-winding them into center-pull balls, either with your hands or with a winding machine.  A standard yarn-winder will do just fine, as long as you don’t lose the end of the yarn that goes in the middle--that will be where you take your yarn from to knit or crochet, so that the main bulk of the yarn doesn’t turn or move as you pull.  Keeping your yarn close to you while you work will limit the possibility of getting your yarn tangled (or stolen by fur-babies).

If you have upper-body mobility issues, you’ll need to make some extra allowances when crafting.  For shoulder mobility or chronic shoulder-pain, make sure you’re seated in a position that supports your upper back--ideally something that lets you lean against it slightly to help keep your shoulders in place (high-backed chairs or recliners are great for this).  For elbow issues, you may find it easier and more comfortable to work over a surface where you can rest your forearms, such as a table or a lap-tray.  For hand issues, make sure you are holding a crochet hook in the hand with the most control (or the least pain) to help keep your stitches more uniform; when knitting, put your working yarn in the hand with the most control (or the least pain) for better control of your yarn-overs.  You may see photos or videos of folks holding their needles or hooks in specific ways, but the only ‘right’ way to hold your tools is the way that lets you use them without causing injury or pain.  Generally speaking, whatever way you hold a pen or pencil is the way you should hold your hook or needle, mostly because you’ve already built the musculature for that posture--I almost always work overhand instead, holding my tools the way I would hold my toothbrush, because the pencil-grip exacerbates my pain (I only ever use the pencil-grip when crocheting fine lace, because I find it gives me added precision, but it still hurts more that way).

Note!  If you have limb differences in your hands, you may need to hold your yarn differently as well as your tools.  If you need to use your toes, your elbows, your chin, whatever--go for it!  Don’t feel silly--you are adapting, and that’s amazing!

Also note!  For neuropathy and chronic pain in the hands, be sure not to let your yarn tension get too tight.  When knitting, you actually need very little tension--just enough to keep the stitches from falling off the needle.  The needle size should dictate the stitch size, and at proper tension, you should be able to just about fit both needles inside the stitch.  If your gauge gets too tight, it can be difficult or painful to get the needles through the stitches.  When crocheting, it’s possible to accidentally pull a stitch too tight to get your hook into it (closing a slipknot), so make sure that your yarn-hand isn’t actually pulling away from the hook--just hold that hand still (or occasionally tug some reluctant yarn from the ball or skein) and let the hook pull as much yarn as you need.  If one of your stitches gets a little too small, and you’re having trouble inserting the hook from the top/front of the stitch, try gently turning the stitch and wiggling the hook into the back loop to loosen it slightly.  If a crochet stitch closes completely, try slipping a yarn needle into it and wiggling until it loosens enough to unravel the stitch and try again.

If you have grip issues, try working with larger hooks and needles, or try crochet hooks with enlarged grips.  Generally speaking, larger hooks and needles will be more comfortable on top of being easier to control.  If you like working big but only fall in love with lighter yarns (like I do), you can work multiple strands together to simulate a heavier yarn.  Crochet is especially well-suited to this; I often work two or four yarn strands at a time with a big hook to make blankets or scarves.  You may find it easier to wind the yarns together into a single combined skein, but I find that the added step isn’t often necessary or helpful, especially early in the piece when the individual skeins are large.

Happy crafting!

[plounce]

what if gay CATS........... were gay PERSONS

(info on this au under the cut)

theyre all shitty young adults just kind of. getting through their early 20s as best they can. or as much as they can. maybe things will get better someday, but right now they’re kind of spinning their wheels

magic exists but like eh it’s not a big thing don’t worry about it. it’s around but like whatever. not many people have it and it’s mostly just like. a curiosity or a party trick

demeter and bombularina are together, tugger and mistoffelees are together, bombularina and tugger occasionally fwb, it’s cool and aboveboard and it’s all fine

demeter:

bisexual with a preference for women. 24 years old

semi-psychic (not as powerful as tantomile or coricopat). tends to have vague and confusing prophetic dreams

dropped out of grad school for sociology due to trauma and ensuing intensified mental illness. kind of bitter about it, but tries to get through every day. general anxiety disorder even before all that

very nervous around most men she doesn’t know & trust

currently working at a barnes & noble starbucks, which sucks. she recently became the assistant manager, which turbo sucks because now she has more work for only like a buck raise, but at least she’s getting reliable shifts

her go-to therapy is cutting her hair with scissors. her hair is fried to all hell from regular bleaching

she’s learning how to crochet because she’s decided she needs to do something physically productively creative with her hands to distract herself from Stuff

bombalurina:

bisexual. 24 years old

got her bachelor’s in english two years ago and hasn’t found a job in her field and has kind of given up on it for now

she’s been bartending for like four years, does freelance editing work on the side. will occasionally write listicles for clickbait sites if she needs extra cash

literally any extra money she can save goes to tattoos. her right sleeve’s almost done

has natural red hair but dyes it cherry red

a hedonist to cope but is also just a natural hedonist. likes a good bath

i know that like the typical thing fandoms say about female characters is “doesn’t take shit” for the girlboss points but she truly does not take shit anymore. she used to take people’s shit sometimes but at this point in her life she’s tired and she has a girlfriend to be protective of. she has a couple people whose shit she will take (mostly just tugger) but besides them (and having to practice basic customer service to keep her job) she’s tired of other people’s shit! enough!

my personal take on bombalurina is a mix between the riot grrrls of the 90s and 80s punk girls, and then a dash of the greaser chicks from grease. i saw that spiked collar and my brain went OH okay i can run with this somewhere fun. same for demeter, but less so - she just has the piercings.

demelurina:

bombalurina met demeter in college at a women’s activism club, noticed her because of her dimple piercings and was like “oh someone else with a lot of metal in her face, i’ll sit next to her”

they were each other’s first off-campus roommates and were close friends. made out a couple times, but it was mostly a lot of sexual tension. there was a lot of bombalurina staring at demeter while she or demeter made out with someone else

demeter was on and off with her high school boyfriend munkustrap and bombalurina was like “oh he’s so much more stable/calm than me and she needs that, i party a bit too much for her, i shouldn’t try anything” so she just sort of. lets their almost-there peter off

(this is all bombalurina’s internal thoughts - demeter always was interested in her, but thought she was too boring for bombalurina. so neither of them thought they could pursue it)

bombalurina graduated and moved somewhere cheaper further away from campus. they kind of drift apart

munkustrap and demeter peter off and he moves away for a job (they’re still good friends, it was a very amicable breakup) and then demeter gets with macavity, which is a deeply toxic situation for her and sucks hugely and throws her whole life really off track. won’t go into further details

she finally manages to break up with him and calls bombalurina at like 2 am asking if she can pick her up, and also if she can sleep on her couch, it’s okay if that’s not okay, she just. really needs a place she feels safe, and her gut is telling her to. and of course bombalurina says yes

bombalurina also knew macavity and had also made out a couple times with him at like parties and stuff (see: staring at demeter as she makes out with people). something about transference of feelings - bombalurina was into him for a couple moments because he and demeter had a thing.

this is due to me interpreting the song “macavity” as actually about bombalurina wanting to fuck demeter and her singing as a half-repressed expression of that. i use my really good wlw brain to reach that conclusion. it’s kind of a non-competitive version of eve sedgwick’s take on the love triangle. (<-- normal thing to say)

but anyway demeter stays on bombalurina’s couch and she tries so hard to stay on track but eventually she just has to drop out. bombalurina helps her with that too. she’s just really supportive even as demeter’s life is at its lowest point. when she gets home from bartending she gets demeter to go to sleep

she just Stays with her and makes her smile and reminds her that her life isn’t over, there’s still things in her day to enjoy, to keep her trudging forward

bombalurina is roommates with tugger at this point - he also recently dropped out and demeter knows him because he’s munkustrap’s brother, so he’s Trusted and also is like “hey it’s okay that you dropped out, im here and im chilling and you like me and respect me at least a little, and you have a bachelor’s degree at least!” (more on him later)

demeter is like “oh god ive been crashing at their place for so long not paying rent, theyre gonna ask me to leave, im such a freeloader, they wont take my attempts at paying rent” but then bombalurina and tugger are like “hey! the lease is almost up! we found a pretty good 3 bedroom, do you wanna have your own room for real?” and she nearly cries because 1. the RELIEF 2. oh my god you want me around???

cut to bombalurina helping demeter put together an ikea dresser (tugger got banished to the kitchen to make crystal light lemonade for them because he’s useless with a screwdriver) and demeter has two epiphanies:

1. i thought i was ready to d*e four months ago and here i am making a dresser to put clothes into in my new apartment where i live and feel safe and loved. im still not happy but im still alive and im making a dresser

2. holy fuck im back in love with my best friend, and ten times more than i was back then.

so she like kind of freaks out because she’s already imposed so much on bombalurina, how could she impose her FEELINGS on her like this, oh no oh no oh no

meanwhile bombalurina’s back in love with her even MORE and she’s also like no... she’s already dealing with so much... i don’t want to make her uncomfortable or feel unsafe in her own home especially after her recent relationship trauma... i just want her to feel safe around me...

you might think tugger as their roommate would be like “JUST KISS” but he is in fact pretty oblivious because he is self-absorbed. mistoffelees on the other hand..

eventually they do have a big confession of feelings after demeter has a bad day and it’s very dramatic and they make out in the rain. and it’s like. well this is a movie scene. but also im cold and damp. let’s head inside our home and get warm and dry :)

and then they go inside and and talk through everything, all their feelings (not just their romantic feelings but like ALL their feelings) and their shared histories and bombalurina is like “do you think you’re... ready for a relationship right now? like that would be a good thing for you?”

and demeter considers it. she does stop and think. and then she says, “with anyone else... probably not. but it’s you. and i feel so safe around you, and we’re already so close. you make the future feel more worth it. you make more days alive feel not just tolerable, but something to look forward to. and knowing you’ve loved me all this time... it’s nice. it’s good. i’m - i’m understating it so much, it’s more than nice, it’s just - it’s a lot. i wish i had noticed back then.” “hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. i’m the one who never said anything.”

anyway. everything works out, and they start dating for real :)

tugger:

bisexual. 22 years old

dishwasher at the same bar bombalurina works at. she got him the job. he keeps bugging her to teach him bartending tricks and on slow nights she will agree to

he dropped out of their four year, but he managed to secure an associate’s in communications before he dipped

trying to be an ig influencer hotboy and hopefully get modeling jobs from that but his phone’s camera sucks shit so his account isn’t really going anywhere. but he continues to post his low resolution shirtless selfies

trying to cope with being the failure son who does not have a fancy nonprofit job with a salary and healthcare by being self-absorbed and self-aggrandizing

it works about 60% of the time and 60% of the times that it doesn’t he’s able to hide it

he dropped out right around when bombalurina graduated and he was like HEY! ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE WHO DOESN’T CARE IF WE LIVE TEN MILES AWAY FROM CAMPUS? WELL HAVE I GOT A SOLUTION FOR YOU: ME!

to which bombalurina (who has fooled around with him here and there and thinks he is funny little man and genuinely goodhearted, and also he has rockin abs as a plus) says munkustrap already asked me if i need a roommate and if i do to consider you, because you don’t want to move back home. in other words: yes, you little idiot

they do fool around with each other but they are both very understanding that it is strictly platonic and for fun, especially once they become roommates. they both do not desire each other for anything serious

he did have a bit of a crush on each other when they met (hot punk older girl who’s friends with his brother) but 1. it dissipated pretty quick after they fooled around for the first time because it was not a very serious crush 2. she was in the middle of being in love with demeter so she was focused on that, emotionally

he got his ears pierced a couple times in high school but bombalurina inspired him to get a couple more. she went with him when he got his nose pierced

demeter has always understood that him and bombalurina are strictly fwb, has never been an issue.

she and him like to bleach their hair together when their hair schedules line up (he bleaches his way less often then she does), but she refuses to use his fancy conditioner that keeps his hair unfried because it’s expensive, even though he tells her to go ahead and use it, please, the health of her hair is giving HIM anxiety, demeter please. please demeter

mistoffelees:

gay. 20 years old

has magic. it’s pretty good magic but again: magic is not a big deal in this concept

a bit spooky. skulks around. a bit of a bitch but also very very nice. chooses when to speak

he has postings on craigslist and fiverr about finding lost objects and people with magic. like a gig economy private detective

side job is a waiter at a fancy restaurant

sometimes he gets paid VERY well from the private detecting, depending on the client. he does ask his psychic friends (tantomile & coricopat) to give a quick glance over on some of the more suspicious clients just to make sure he isn’t finding someone who should not be found by that person.

doesn’t go to college. is roommates with his sister victoria, who’s a freshman and studying dance. moved into town with her so she wouldn’t have to live in the dorms by having a guaranteed roommate.

tuggoffelees:

the general vibe i want for these two is mistoffelees walking around town or driving around in his shitty toyota camry while tugger tags along because he’s bored and thinks this is cool as shit

the general tone of the au is “magic isn’t a big deal” except for tugger, who thinks mistoffelees’ magic and his magic freelancing is the coolest shit ever. this is mostly because he just likes mistoffelees. “there are people who can do cooler shit than me, tug” “yeah but i don’t KNOW them also theyre not as COOL as you” “you had to explain to me how instagram reels work”

idk how they met i just think tugger shows up at his and bombalurina’s apartment one day (this is when demeter has moved in but they havent moved to the 3br yet) with this dude to dash in and pick something up and bombalurina is like “uh. who’s this” “oh this is mistoffelees he’s SO GOOD AT MAGIC” [mistoffelees nods hello] “okay bye bombalurina see you at work!!!” “uh. later”

after that he just shows up a lot. sort of ambiguous if theyre dating or what for a while before bombalurina straight up asks like “hey does the dude you’re dating know we fool around” “the dude im - what?” “... the little magic guy who keeps using our hot cocoa mix. misty.” “oh. uh. we aren’t dating.” “... do you want to? because you’re kind of all over him constantly” “um. well! haha, if i wanted to, i could! haha!” “yeah get back to me on that”

tugger trying to use his ig clout to get mistoffelees more work even though 1. he has no clout 2. mistoffelees has a very stable client base. but mistoffelees appreciates the effort. the self-promo guy promoing someone other than himself... the highest expression of love...

mistoffelees is A Nonthreatening Man plus he’s pretty obviously gay so demeter is chill around him pretty quickly. when mistoffelees is over they’ll sit on the couch where demeter sleeps and watch documentaries quietly while she crochets

they both occasionally say spooky shit at the same time because magic stuff. bombalurina and tugger are both torn between “that was cool as fuck” and “god that’s unnerving”

just a lot of tugger following mistoffelees around on his jobs and mistoffelees letting him because he’s fond of him and them occasionally getting into minor peril and interesting shenanigans, but it is 90% fetch quests

i think the first time they met tugger was taking selfies in front of a hydrangea in a public park and he saw mistoffelees walk up with a shovel and start digging in one of the flower beds and he thought he was hot so he went over and offered to take over on the shoveling to look strong and masculine and he ended up digging up a skull, which mistoffelees picked up and said “thanks” and then walked away

mildly terrifying but also very interesting and tugger’s days are kind of boring and dishwashing kind of sucks as a job to do like every night and he is a person who thrives on novelty so. moth to a porchlight

i think they do start making out for fun here and there and then a while later theyre out on one of mistoffelees’ jobs and someone asks “who’s the guy with you” and mistoffelees replies “oh that’s my boyfriend, don’t worry about him” and then it’s like. “HUH? I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND?” “uh. yeah? i assumed. is that okay?” “i mean yeah of course i think you’re great! how long have we–” “oh like a while.” “oh. uh. cool!!”

they just hang out a lot. mistoffelees enjoys teasing him and enjoys his warmth and bombasticity and tugger likes watching and helping him solve little mysteries around the county because it’s always something new. they’re kind of a comedy duo. they just enjoy spending their time together and following mistoffelee’s internal magic gps to find lost dogs and lost necklaces

yeah right now this au is just vibes and just sort of. continuing forward with your days and your weeks and your months. just young adults hanging out

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.” 

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

[discountalien-pancake]

Beginner’s Guide to Crochet Lace - Part 1B of who the fuck knows: Choosing Thread (so you can choose a pattern)

I’ve talked about this a lot in bits throughout my [#myth and pancake make underpinnings] posts but I’m going to get into more detail here.

When you google crochet lace, you’re going to get a lot of hits for this stuff:

It’s what crochet doilies and curtains are made out of, and it’s your basic, easily worked, traditional thread. Excellent choice for practice because it’ll get you used to using thin thread and a tiny hook.

But there are so many more (better) options that will better suit your needs. What exactly are your options?

Lace-weight yarn - exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a very fine yarn that is typically used for knitted lace. Can be very affordable or extremely expensive, depending on the fiber-content. Also known as cobweb or superfine. The sizing for lace-weight yarn is the most complicated and least consistent across brands, because a yarn that is 50 wraps per inch and one that is only 30 wraps (much thicker) will both be consider lace-weight. You’ll have lots of color and texture options, however.

Crochet thread (or crochet cotton, as I often call it, but there are some linen ones, I believe) - that’s the Aunt Lydia’s stuff. Comes in a range of sizes, but smaller weights are hard to find and only come in boring colors for the most part. Very consistent sizing, small numbers being the thickest, big numbers being thinner. 20-30 are the thinnest sizes you’ll be able to find easily, and probably only in white and off-whites (ecru or cream).

Pearl cotton - this is a type of embroidery thread that is very shiny and sturdy like a crochet thread but has a more noticeable twisted texture. Not really an issue at the size you’ll be using, and comes in a wide range of colors, because it’s usually used for embroidery. Also follows an inverse sizing scale, like crochet cotton, but it’s a different scale. Not many brands, but DMC has a pretty decent range of colors and is carried by Jo-Ann.

Embroidery floss - FRAGILE. It is loosely twisted to give it “spread” when doing embroidery, but this means it lacks density and strength. A hard pull will break the thread and it is prone to fraying. It only comes in short lengths, too. The one major advantage is the enormous range of colors and the affordability of cotton floss. No sizing scale, floss is floss. You can customize by increasing/decreasing the number of strands you use. If you insist on floss, I recommend a minimum of two strands.

Silk buttonhole twist or topstitching thread - comes on cards or spools, literally impossible to find in higher yardages, and expensive as all hell. As thick as thinner crochet cottons. You physically can make lace out of this and it would probably be very nice, but you literally just can’t buy enough of the stuff to make anything substantial.

Machine embroidery thread - I will talk about silk sewing thread later, here I want to focus on “art silk,” which is a fancy marketing name for artificial silk. This is going to be either polyester or rayon. I’ll talk more about the properties of various fibers later. Very shiny, inexpensive, comes in a few different weights (I haven’t tried these yet because I can’t get thicker weights locally). Sizing is also inverse but AGAIN VERY DIFFERENT from both crochet cotton and pearl cotton.

Machine sewing thread - polyester, cotton, and silk (also nylon but you’re probably not going to make lace out of nylon). Many sizes, from stupidly small and not usable for crochet, to as thick as the thinner crochet cottons. Uses the same sizing system as machine embroidery thread, but the actual thickness depends on fiber content. A 30wt cotton and 30wt silk are not the same. You can double up thread for thickness and sturdiness.

Turkish lace thread - almost always polyester, comes in very bright colors, super shiny. I have no idea where to reliably buy it and I’m morally opposed to using plastic whenever avoidable, but I’d be remiss not to mention it, because the stuff is literally designed for lace crochet.

OKAY. SO. Time to talk about FIBER CONTENT.

You got a lot of options if you use yarn, but honestly most of those options are not tiny-crochet friendly. Anything with wool in it, while soft and pretty, is going to be a BASTARD. Wool likes to catch onto itself, and unlike cotton does not come mercerized to prevent little fuzzies. Do not use wool for crochet lace unless you enjoy crying. Just don’t. Like, I’m using the most fiddly, tiny, bastard thread and I’m telling you wool is a terrible idea.

So what does that leave?

Rayon/viscose/“bamboo cotton” - not cotton at all! It’s reconsituted cellulose, which is fancy speak for plant stuff getting broken down into sludge using chemicals and then formed back into clean cellulose filament using more chemicals. It’s beautiful, can be matte or shiny as hell, and is often used for “art silk” aka artificial silk (the other most common fiber for art silk is polyester. blech). This is what @longsightmyth refers to as “slippery beautiful bastard rayon thread.” In machine embroidery thread, it is tightly twisted and less prone to catching on your hook, but is so fucking slippery. As yarn...good luck.

Cotton - actual cotton. We’re all familiar with this. It’s a sturdy, strong fiber, and easily the most beginner-friendly. It stays on your hook and is less likely to shift around or twist up weirdly while you work with it. Easy to find, cheap, lots of options. Also, you’ll notice a lot of threads say they’re “mercerized.” Mercerization is a process by which stray fuzzies are burnt off of the thread to leave it super smooth and shiny. I recommend size 20-30 crochet cotton for lace with some stiffness to it, or a 12wt sewing thread for something more flexible. You can go down as small as 30-40wt for extra-fine lace. Size 12 pearl cotton is also gorgeous and creates a compact lace with lots of structure.

Silk - the most expensive option, but worth the cost for a few reasons. This shit is strong. It’s smooth and shiny and is the least prone to fraying of all the fibers I’ve listed. Silk is... also weird. It’s not stretchy, per se, but silk sewing thread has a slight elasticity to it that cotton does not, making it incredibly fiddly as a single strand. The same smoothness that makes it beautiful makes it prone to slipping, but makes it a dream to work with doubled up. It also makes it much softer against the skin than cotton, but sturdy when using a heavier weight. Silk yarn is heavy and drapey and comes in many, many colors but will also gut your wallet. Silk machine embroidery thread is probably similar to sewing thread in terms of how it behaves but is shinier, and therefore slippery-er.

Polyester - fuck polyester.

BUT WHAT ABOUT SIZING?

Look. There’s a lot of sizing guides out there that explain what exactly each type of thread uses. They’re not helpful if you want to know how the different systems compare, and especially not if you’re trying to figure out if a non-crochet thread will look nice crocheted.

So here is a sizing guide of various common, easy to acquire threads relative to each other and how they look worked into a pattern.

From thickest to thinnest:

Size 10 crochet cotton

16wt silk buttonhole twist (not patterned bc I don’t have enough for a motif)

12wt cotton topstitching thread

Size 12 pearl cotton

30wt silk sewing thread, 2-strand

30wt silk sewing thread, 1 strand

30wt rayon machine embroidery thread

Notice what a massive fucking difference the size of the thread makes! Size 10 crochet thread is orders of magnitude larger than any of the other options! Two strands of rayon works up to approxiamately the same size as 2 strands of silk, but it’s stiffer.

Choose your threads according to the pattern and purpose, and vice versa! I’m doing a tiny lace edging on a delicate undergarment, so I want a super delicate lace to go with my super delicate cotton. If you’re trimming a jacket collar or dress bodice a size 12 pearl cotton or doubled silk would make more sense.

[hargrove-mayfields]

You’ve Set my Soul to Dreaming Pt. 2

Billy can’t believe he’s doing this. 

Can’t believe that he’s pulled up outside of 8253 Loch Nora, a gift box in his passenger seat, unwrapped because that would look like he cared too much, a lit cigarette fogging up his windows, and a sense of dread settled heavy in his heart. 

Just because Harrington bought him the fanciest thing he’d ever had the pleasure to own didn’t mean he had to return the favor, right? 

Wrong. Because it wasn’t just your typical, ‘I’m loaded, and you’re dirt poor, so let me get you this novelty that costs more than you have in the bank because I'm better than you’ from Steve, but something more like a peace offering. 

A peace offering from the loser of the fight, which made Billy look like even bigger an asshole than he already was. 

Like, it was bad enough that he’d even beat Steve up in the first place, but then to just ignore his attempt at reconciliation and keep up the machismo shtick? Even he was better than that. 

So he’d fretted for a week about what a rich boy would want, and shoveled sidewalks for old people and flirtatious mothers to be able to afford it. Not that the Hargroves didn’t have enough money for a dinky little gift, Billy just wasn’t allowed to spend his father’s wages on anything less than necessity. 

Christmas presents for some boy definitely didn’t fall under that category. 

In the end he decides on giving him a flask, decorated with similar filigree to that on the zippo, only it’s much more cheaply made. He hopes the sentiment is still there, because he knows Steve can put alcohol away faster than you can say chemically dependent teenaged washup. After all, just a few nights ago at Jenny’s Christmas Party, he saw him drink a whole bottle of vodka in under a minute.

Besides, regardless of whether or not it’s something he needs or cares about or is just going to throw away, it’s just to get even, this isn’t some life changing gift exchange. No sweat. 

Maybe Billy has that all worked out in his head, but then he’s got another problem. He can’t decide on how the present is going to get to Steve. 

If he should just leave it on the porch and bolt, if he was going to ring the doorbell and hand it right to him, or if he would just drive right on down back to Cherry Lane and keep the stupid hip flask for himself, and pretend the whole thing never happened so he could move on with his life. 

He loses the chance to choose when the double doors to the house are pulled open, and the silhouette of the one and only Steve Harrington appears. 

It would be more than weird to drive away now when he was obviously already parked outside, and even weirder to just sit in his car until Steve goes back inside, so he sucks it up, grabs the box off his passenger seat, and steps out of the Camaro. 

Rounding the front of his car and taking a few steps toward the porch, Billy decides to toss Steve the box without so much as a muttered ‘heads up.’ They’ve been playing basketball together for two months now, and he knows from experience that Steve’s surprisingly good at dodging fists, so he’s pretty sure he’ll catch it. 

And he does, if not a little clumsily, with a stupid, shocked look on his face. Billy might even say he almost looks as dumb as the sweater he was wearing, which had a Christmas tree crocheted into the center and was at least fifty percent tinsel. 

If his head was screwed on straight, maybe Billy would’ve even said ‘Merry Christmas Steve, thanks for the beautiful fucking zippo I use it every day, sorry ‘bout the face’ but it wasn’t, so instead, what he said was actually more along the lines of, 

“Save your donations for the red kettle Harrington.” 

And then he thinks he’s out of the woods, thinks the lack of an answer is the symbol he needs to put this drama behind him and pick a new pretty boy to pick on, but just as he pops the Camaro’s door, Steve finally lets his response tumble out of his mouth. 

“Why don’t you come in, Hargrove?” Steve turns the box over and over in his hands, nervous as he tries to get out what he’s going to say. “Nobody’s home, and I made a bunch of cookies. Got some spiked eggnog too.” 

And, it wasn’t like Billy’d rather be back at his own house right now, that was actually the last place on earth he wanted to be, so he wasn’t beyond entertaining the notion. 

He isn’t easy though, he’s not the type to just, waltz on in to some McMansion looming over him just because he’d been asked so politely. Especially not when the circumstances of this specific circumstance were the way they were.

“Whatd’ya put in it, the eggnog?” It’s a stupid question, just a way to stall until he can come up with an excuse to go in the mansion by his accord, but the answer, well, it’s not much better. 

“Chicken Cock.” Steve says it with such an air of nonchalance that Billy isn’t sure he’s heard that right, but then again, the people down in the Midwest referred everything with weird nicknames that he’d never even heard of. What was puppy chow anyways?

He can tell there’s a bewildered look on his face, though it gets overtaken by a slightly humored smile as he asks. “‘Scuse me?” 

Blame it on the bitter cold if you please, but a flush appears on Steve’s cheeks at the realization of what his words might sound like to somebody who had no idea what he’s talking about. “I-It’s a spirit, it’s really strong and- why don’t you just come try it, yeah?” 

Its cute, but Billy needs one last attempt at casting out the line before he gives in and accepts Steve’s offer. “Real smooth, Harrington, but I gotta get back to the festivities at home.” 

“Sure, ‘cause you're totally the type for that.” Steve rolls his eyes in a sort of false annoyance before he starts on his mockery. “Bet you sing carols, and bake cookies with your little sister and tell stories of your favorite Christmas memories around the Yule log and-“

“Alright, Harrington. Since you asked so nicely.” He couldn’t keep saying no with Steve practically begging him to come inside, so, stepping up onto the stoop, Billy scrapes his boots against the porch rug to knock off the snow so he can go inside. “But I’m outta here by midnight, alright?” 

With a smile, Steve steps aside to let Billy through the door. “Deal.” 

Ornate woodworking and fancy wallpaper goes unnoticed, because the first thing Billy notices about the Harrington mansion is that it is an absolute disaster. although he would expect a cleaning lady to have come through and kept the place all nice and pristine like you see in the magazines, there was shit everywhere. 

Piles of bubble wrap and newspaper stuffed into plastic containers, wires and strings and tape all over, a power strips and thumbtacks, and suddenly Billy realizes something. 

“This your attempt at Yuletide cheer, Harrington?” 

For a moment he looks at Billy confused, but follows his line of sight to the heaping boxes of decorations scattered throughout his living space. “Oh, no, I just didn’t finish yet.” 

Billy can’t help it when he blurts out, “It’s Christmas Eve.” 

Steve nods dumbly, something that should at this point be his registered trademark. “Uh-huh.” 

“And all your decorations are in a pile in your living room?” Even Billy knew better than to wait until the last minute to get things done, and Harrington always seemed so on top of everything, regardless of if he was doing it right, so it was kind of jarring to see him in such a disheveled mess the night of Christmas Eve. 

Steve says, in a tone so casually condescending, “Seems that way, yeah.” 

“Didn’t leave enough time between your panty raids to get it done?”  Snark is met with snark, but, because of the circumstances, there’s not the typical edge to it that would be expected from the two of them.

“I manage my escapades perfectly fine, thank you.” Steve toes at a box heaping with ornaments and labeled with the words ‘to throw out’ written in cursive on the side. “My parents just think decorating is too undistinguished, so I’m only allowed to have them up for a few days.” 

“Right.” Billy agrees like he understands, but he really doesn’t. How can sprucing up your house with a bunch of fancy and expensive trinkets and decorations be any worse than leaving it empty and barren? Rich people. “And how, exactly, would they know if you put them up early?” 

Tossing a strand of garland that had previously been draped over the back of the chaise, because of course they have a chaise in their first living room, Steve says, “Shut up and help me put them up then.” 

So he does. He untangles giant knots of tinsel, of lights and of icicles, and unwraps all of the Harringtons’ precious glass ornaments for Steve to put on the artificial trees (he’s allergic to pine) in the entrance hall and the dining room. 

He puts up the glass stocking holder and hangs the silky, designer stockings, which, judging from the faded fabric and the peeling letters written in red glitter glue to spell out STEVEn, are from a time when Ruthie and Stephen Sr. still darkened these doors. Alongside them on the mantelpiece, he hangs a handful of Christmas cards from Steve’s random relatives up on a thin piece of ribbon. 

The banister of the grand staircase is wrapped in miles of scratchy garland, enough that they can hardly see the wooden finish underneath, and matching wreaths are hung in the windows and on the doors. 

Just to prove how rich they were, the Harringtons also have a rather extensive collection of those ceramic trees, not the type you make yourself, but the expensive ones you can order from Avon and other designers Billy can’t even pronounce the name of, and they’ve put one on just about every surface that is close enough to an outlet for a plug to reach.

There are so many extension cords run through every room, Billy’s worried that Steve might end up burning up in a house fire, but it’s worth it to see the twinkling lights reflecting on blank white walls, the soothing colors brightening up a space he could imagine was typically devoid of life. 

And in the end, having wrestled with dusty old decorations to transform Steve’s house into something so, so pleasant? spirited? entirely unfamiliar to someone like him? he thinks he’s earned the hard whiskey he was promised at the door. 

Hours go by, and the two of them are sitting in the center of the giant French Country rug, a cotton and silk substitute for the Persian Steve turned out to be allergic to, backs against the coffee table and more than a little tipsy. 

Leaning back on his elbows, Billy lets his head fall back, his sprayed curls fanning out over the mahogany surface, where they have a bayberry candle burning out of the top of an empty bottle of Stephen Sr's liquor of choice. 

Blinking slowly up at the ceiling, the blur of the colorful lights making him dizzy, he asks, “So, how does this work, without your parents here, d’ya just, buy your own presents and put ‘em under the tree yourself?” 

“Nah. They mail them to Miss Hetty the help, and she brings ‘em to me in the mornin’. 7 a.m. sharp.” He pops the p on the “sharp” like he’s proud to admit he has a nanny at almost 19 years old. 

“The help. Think that’s somehow more depressing.” Billy ignores the way Steve’s eyebrows furrow together and his quiet, mumbled out, “Rude.” 

“Don’t think I have much room to talk though.” He sits up again so he can look at Steve. “Your zippo’s the only thing I’m gettin’ this year, ‘cept for maybe a-a good backhand or two after Susan gets her family photos.” 

A smile cracks across the other boy's face as he lowers his voice, sounding all too excited to say, “Guess that makes us a couple-a misfits then, huh?”

And Billy can’t help the laugh he lets out at that god awful reference, true as it may be, and it's with a smile on his face that he says, “God, you are such a cheeseball, man.” 

“Hey! I saw an opportunity, and I had to take it.” There’s a smile equal to his own on Steve’s face, as he laughs at what he said with Billy, and the moment passes. 

In the silence that follows, they sit just like that, appreciating their moment of camaraderie that they know is going to come to an end soon, as the grandfather clock chimes for another hour gone by, the bayberry burns down another few centimeters, and the headachy feeling of too much alcohol starts to set in. 

It was nice to not be surrounded by faux affection and suffocated by the fear of stepping out of line, but like all good things, Christmas Eve must come to an end at some point, and so it was that, around quarter to twelve, Billy makes his first attempt to stand on drunken feet. 

Based on the fact that he doesn’t immediately fall on his ass, he’ll probably be alright to drive, not that he really has much of a choice, so he grabs his keys off the coffee table and announces his departure. 

“It’s been real Harrington, but duty calls.” 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks man.” Steve waves Billy off and leans forward, letting his forehead come to rest against the surface of the laminated hardwood, obviously more affected by the whiskey than the other boy. 

But Billy finds himself cemented to the spot, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his denim jacket as he tries to get together what he wants to say, because he still hasn’t properly apologized. 

Not that it’s something he’d normally do, but some things can’t be fixed with Christmas Decorations and cinnamon spirits. “Look, I’m sorry, about the, the fight and everything Harrington, I just-“ 

“S’okay.” Steve tries to look at him, but he's barely able to sit up anymore. He’s got an arm slung over the top of the coffee table to keep himself upright, and his words slur to be almost unintelligible as he tells Billy, “Already forgave ya.” 

“But, I don’t- you shouldn’t-“ Taking a deep breath through his nose to collect himself, Billy continues, “How did you know I deserved that?” 

“Chalk it up to the Christmas spirit.” Accenting his words with the slightest shrug of his shoulders, Steve smiles a knowing little grin and says, “Go on home, Billy.” 

“Right, I’ll, see ya round then.” He starts to walk away, taking steps made shaky from the alcohol in his system, but from behind him he hears Steve say softly, “Wait.” 

Turning around, he raises his eyebrows to show Steve he’s at his attention, and Steve, eyes glossy and cheeks as red as the big man’s suit, looks him right in the eye (and the heart) to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Billy.” 

“Yeah, you too, Harrington.” The softness in his tone feels like a betrayal to himself, and he thanks the lord above that Steve is too drunk to hold it against him.

One last look over his shoulder, and he sees Steve face down on the coffee table again. Chuckling to nobody but himself, he thinks that maybe the flask wasn’t such a bright idea after all. 

Shutting those heavy double doors behind himself and getting back in the Camaro, while his hands shake and his heart races, is a strange feeling to say the least. 

Just up and walking away from the most genuine expression of compassion he’d ever experienced, knowing that, with what’s waiting for him back at home, he’s not going to ever let something like this happen again, makes him feel like he should just go running back in there, forget about curfews and abusive fathers so he can pursue this, this whatever with Harrington, but he knows that isn’t really an option. 

Knows he’ll get too attached if he doesn't leave now, that nipping that growing feeling of acceptance, of forgiveness, of warmth in his heart three sizes too small, right in the bud before it turns into something more wicked and ruins a perfectly good Christmas Eve, is the best possible thing for the both of them.

This was just an apology, righting the obvious wrongs that had taken place in November, and nothing more. 

Because having Steve Harrington three sheets to the wind and showing him the slightest bit of compassion wouldn’t be enough to break him down, no sir. This was Billy Hargrove after all, he didn’t let trivial things like throwing away potential friendships bring tears to his eyes, not in a million years. 

Or that’s at least what he’d like to think, but in all reality he does, shows up back at his own, completely average house back on Cherry with red rimmed eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed when he walks through the front door. 

So Billy spends the night just as he expected he would; a bruise forming on his cheek, wide awake in his bed, while visions of Steve Harrington danced in his head. 

Read also on ao3

[sincerelyreidburke]

[“Another one??? Mel, are you okay?” No. I’m never okay. But have fun with this one anyway. Also on AO3.]

three years after graduation | january

 To say that Quinn is exhausted would be a bit of an understatement.

It's... been a long week, and the week isn't even quite over yet. It isn't like weeks being over makes much of a difference anyways, because with all things considered, there's always something to do no matter what day of the week it is. He's trying so hard to keep good spirits, and he's glad to say that for the most part, he's succeeding on that front. To be sure, he's tired— but being tired is an internal thing, and he refuses to let it affect external parts of his life. He may be very tired, and very busy, but he has responsibilities, and the importance of exactly none of those responsibilities is any less just because of the fact that there's a lot on his plate.

It's just that if Quinn is being honest, medical school is like having tech week every single week. Or perhaps not every week; that's rather dramatic. Many of them certainly feel like it, though. There's always an exam on the horizon— like the one coming up a week from now, and the most recent reason for his stress. On a less large-scale basis, there are daily assignments, grades to keep up, labs galore, the dreaded collaborative project with his fellow students. All of the work is towards a goal, of course, and will be well worth it once he finally makes it to the other side. He's learned quite well that the work is worth the goal, when it comes to his career. It's the whole reason he decided to go to medical school in the first place. It's just that the knowledge that it'll be worth it doesn't take away from the fact that it's hard, busy, difficult work. Any medical student knows this, and he was well warned before he chose to take this path that this was the way it was going to be.

Quinn, though— Quinn has an advantage. Quinn has something that many of his classmates don't have. Because when Quinn goes home at the end of each long, grueling day, he isn't going home to an empty house or apartment. When he goes home, he goes home to the most lovely man— and now, additionally, to the sweetest, most precious little girl. And that, above all else, is what keeps him going.

Tonight, he gets home just after five o'clock. It's a late day, and he knows it, but he was caught in a lab for most of the afternoon, and he texted Sebastián to be sure his arrival time at home would be on his radar. Sebastián goes back to work next month, but for now, he's still on paternity leave, and has been since Violet's very sudden arrival just before the holidays. Quinn asks him if he should pick anything up on the way home, but Sebastián declines; he tells him he's already taken care of everything for dinner. Quinn is grateful beyond words for that— there's always dinner on the table, when he gets home. So many things around the house are taken care of, because Sebastián takes care of them for him. Raising a baby and maintaining a household is a team effort, to be sure, but he's aware— and immensely grateful— for the slack that Sebastián picks up.

So once he's finished on campus, he gets in his car and heads straight toward home. He hits several green lights on his drive, which, without traffic, takes about fifteen or so minutes. Today, he's lucky, and by the time he pulls into the driveway at home, he notes that he's made good time. It's moving toward sunset, but not completely dark yet, and just cool enough for a light jacket and cotton scarf. Quinn has lived in Arizona for three years now— five if you count the summers and Christmas breaks he spent here during the latter half of college— and he believes that slowly, but surely, he's growing used to the temperature cycle here. Really, his scarves are less for practicality and more to complete an outfit nowadays. There's seldom a real need for them. But he wears them anyway, because he wants to.

He parks next to Sebastián's car. The windows of their house are warm-lit, and with the pinkish sky behind it, home has never looked more welcoming. He takes his school bag off of the passenger's seat, slings it over his shoulder, and makes his quick way up the driveway and through the front door.

Walking inside is like getting a hug— home is his safe haven, where even though stresses and school duties may linger over his head, he can find comfort and at least a bit of calm. It smells wonderful inside, like Sebastián's enchiladas, which must be what they're having for dinner. Sebastián himself is not immediately visible, and though her high-chair is by the kitchen table, neither is Violet. He turns on his hearing aids, and speaks quietly, as not to disturb her should she be asleep. "Hello, my loves. I'm home."

There's no response— but he can hear a very faint something in the living room, so he leaves his Oxfords by the door, hangs up his school bag and jacket, and walks across the kitchen. He notes that the oven is on, and through the small window, he can see a tray covered in foil— definitely enchiladas. There's a pot on the stove, which is probably rice. Sebastián is a true wizard in the kitchen; Quinn has been swooning over his food for seven years now. He's extra grateful for it since they graduated, and he grew accustomed to the luxury that is eating it every day.

In the living room, he finds the rest of his small family. The television is on, which is the source of the faint noise; the sound gets a little clearer as he actually enters the room, though he'd never be able to decipher what's being said. It's a cartoon, he notes— one of the ones Violet likes to watch. The play blanket Quinn rush-sewed her in the week following her adoption is spread out on the ground in front of the TV, with a few toys scattered on it— a purple bear he crocheted for her, the plush duck Remy sent in the mail, the doll from Mrs. Hernandez, a teething toy Sebastián bought.

As for the baby herself, though— she's not on the blanket. Instead, she's on the couch, in her papa's arms. Violet looks asleep— with her head pressed into Sebastián's shoulder, she's peaceful and adorable, in a yellow onesie that matches the big cloth bow on her headband. Her hair is getting longer, and curlier, too.

Sebastián is rumpled, in a Kiersey t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts— he's favored his comfortable, casual clothes during paternity leave. His curls are a little ruffled, and he's stretched out on the couch; it's only when Quinn approaches that he lifts his head from bowing it, as if he were almost asleep before, but not quite there. He smiles, and the warm light of the evening catches in his eyes.

Quinn puts a hand to his heart. This, right here— this is everything he'll ever need. "Hello, my dear."

 "Hey, baby," Sebastián whispers, and his voice comes out a bit raspy, as if it's the first time he's spoken in awhile. "How was your day?"

Quinn tries to decide how best to answer that question— because truth be told, he had a long and tiring day, but everything seems better standing here in their living room. He settles on, "It's much better right now than it was five minutes ago."

Sebastián laughs, just gently. "That's good to hear," he says. Quinn walks to him, and leans to give him a gentle kiss hello, minding Violet's head on his way down so he won't disturb her. Thank goodness, he doesn't. She sleeps away.

"How long has she been out?" he asks Sebastián, who shrugs and looks briefly down to her.

"Half an hour?" he replies, when he meets Quinn's eyes again. "I was gonna put her down in the crib, but... I was comfy, and then my arm fell asleep."

Now Quinn laughs, with a hand to his mouth. "Oh, honey," he says. "Do you want me to take her?"

Sebastián shakes his head. "I'll wait it out," he murmurs. "Dinner's in the oven," he adds, tilting his head in the direction of the kitchen. "It should be done soon, but it has to cool awhile."

"It smells delicious," Quinn tells him. "Thank you, honey."

"Of course." Sebastián shifts himself a little on the couch, but keeps Violet in the same position in his arm. He looks up to Quinn, and tips his head just a little, like he's beckoning for him. "Can you join us?"

Quinn has a million things he should be doing, most of them for school. His exam next week is going to drive him completely insane. The only thing in the world he wants right now is to join the two of them, on the couch— and yet he knows he shouldn't. He should be getting ahead on his next reading assignment. He should be proactive. It's a Thursday. He still has class tomorrow.

And yet. "I have a bit of reading to do," he tells Sebastián. "But as long as you wouldn't mind my book coming with me, I don't see why not."

Sebastián smiles, from ear to ear. Quinn didn't know it was possible to love him more than he already did, but every day, in that department, he proves himself wrong yet again. It's only more and more since they became parents. "I don't mind," he says.

So Quinn retrieves his textbook from his bag, and brings a pen and notebook with him, to keep track of what he reads. He can't escape the weight of school on his shoulders— almost literally, as this hefty textbook weighs what feels like a million pounds— but he has a home, and an almost-husband, and a beautiful daughter, and the stress has nothing on those things.

He sinks down next to Sebastián on the couch, and presses against his side. Violet, because she's a tiny blessing, continues, just as peacefully, to sleep. Sebastián gives Quinn's hand a good squeeze, and leans to kiss his temple. He says nothing, but he doesn't have to, because the quiet is a comfort all its own.  Quinn cracks open his book, and dives into the reading. It's dense, and complicated, and all very necessary in order to attain a good grade on his exam next week. He has a headache. His limbs hurt. He only has a few minutes between now and dinner, and after dinner, he'll have to study more. He is exhausted beyond all compare.

But Quinn can do this, because he's not alone.

[omega-queen-collects-lipstick]

Maybe reverse situation? Like big boys and bitty reader?

Hmmmmmmm. . . I may have the perfect situation.

Mc is a bitty working as a therapists assistant. She is very special needs however because of her energy deficiency. Almost like anemia but it's magic.

She and the staff run a live in facility for bitty and monster therapy recovery. She herself is a patient turned employee because of her ability to read emotions. You can't lie to her because she'll know.

Doctor rosen is her partner in this and they often host group therapy together. It's not until a particular incedent that mc meets the boys.

Well all except for quicksilver. He's her personal doctor and often let's her stay over in his apartment in the employee wing when rosen goes on special business trips. To which he either spoils the fuck out of her or is a prickly pear of a mother helicopter. He absolutely adores her and has his whole apartment set up for her comfort.

She was his and still is his favorite patient. She even trusted him enough to tell him her story. Not even rosen knows what happened before she was admitted her. Just him and Mc herself.

As for the incedent in question. . . It was a group therapy session for four former convicts. A gang boss, an arsonist, and two prostitutes. Technically it was just supposed to be Dr Rosen in the room. But then there was yelling and a crash then more.

Mc dashed inside the room to save her best friend with a "stop it right this instant!" Such a cute tiny yet brave little thing. It caught everyone's attention. Mc told them to pick up their mess and they did. Mc tells them to sit and behave they do it.

They can't imagine making this cute creature upset again

Of course none of them would take on another session unless she led the session. And that's how THAT started.

Erik is a gang boss by blood. He felt pressured into it by his heritage. As hardened and as high of LV he has he likes cute things. (I think every AU he does) He comes off as scary and mean to most but Mc can sense his padlocked soul. His reason for therapy is he couldn't take being in his line of work anymore and saught help. Currently he's selling out all his business and the FBI monster division is currently in the process of taking his death. The are many 'gaster type' monsters. They just have to switch his ID number with a faster type that recently dusted. The therapy is just until he's recovered enough to function. He adores Mc because she knows what he's feeling at any given moment and she let's him pick out 'the outfit of the day' for her. It's therapeutic for him. Especially when Mc picks out an accessory for him.

If anyone comments on MCs outfit or the occasional ribbon on his horns he has no shame about it and puffs up his chest.

Now if someone makes fun of of it there's gonna be a fight. No cap. He is selectively mute and doesn't speak often. So mc is invaluable in her ability to read his emotions. Especially when he comes up to her with a beaten up person or monsters and says "oopsies."

Kinda slow in the head but he knows the business. He's also boss at crochet and knitting. He can look at a complexly knitted sweater and copy it easily. However if you give him written instructions he won't understand it at all.

Hotaru is an arsonist. Not just because he's a fire monster. No. There's just something about watching the world burn that's just so intoxicating.

Clearly he didn't have the best child hood. And he acts much like a destructive child just far more dangerous.

Gaurds escort him to and from his room with high pressure water guns.

He was the one who started the incedent. He's entirely racist and didn't want to be helped by a weak ass human who assumes she knows him and how his mind works.

Mc however... When she came in he was shocked. Here he was ready to burn the whole place down and this little bitty comes in fearless even tho none of the gaurds are conscious and loudly as she can demands everyone stop what their doing.

He wants to know more. Your story. Your like. Dislikes. How you work. Hobbies. Do you like fire? Do you like cats? Him specifically.

Mc takes none of his bullshit and he loves it. Just watching mc get all angry and demanding is so cute. He can't help but listen because your cute satisfied smile is so much cuter.

Your so tiny and he will make it obvious constantly. He'll carry you. Pet you on your head with a finger. Baby talk you until you use your magic which is like squid ink.

On a less asshole like note he always goes to mc when hes in a vulnerable mindset. She's easy to talk to and she doesn't judge. Even when he talks of his obsession with violent devastating fires. She just gets it. Gets him. Gets on his level. Rhetorically of course. She's barely six inches tall.

Sweets is of course a prostitute trying to get away from his pimp. He's not 'pretty enough' anymore. It was only a matter of time before he became useless and took a dust nap if you catch his drift. Yeah his pimp isn't very nice.

But since he sought help in the facility once he gave up all the info they needed to bag the guy he's been getting some serious help.

Until the help stopped helping. The boy suffers from severe depression and his self confidence is abysmal. They thought group therapy would fix it.

It didn't work. At least not until he got transferred to a new group and the pyro head started that fight. Then mc such a tiny thing demanded everyone stop.

Such confidence and poise. He wants that. Or at least he thinks it would be more reasonable to serve that. Mc is so perfect. So pretty. He only hopes his horrible visage doesn't make her repulsed.

Mc often encourages him to be braver. Simple excercises. Speech work. Body confidence. Inner confidence. So much work mc has to do for even just a smidgen of self confidence in sweets. But it's always dashed so quickly.

However with Mc, she always makes sweets feel pretty. Admired. With her around he has a lot more confidence. He feels like he's worth something more than a hole to stick a dick in.

He loves it when mc asks his opinion on the cute little outfits Eric picks out. They're always flawless in his opinion by the way. In a way Erik and sweets help eachother with Mc in between.

Now eros, woo boi. He's a compulsive lier. Bad. Cleptomaniac to. He constantly has to be searched. Of course that's not why he's here. He's here because he was a pimpless prostitute that got caught in a fight with a well known pimp. The pump had been trying to force him to work under him and eros our beloved snek boi doesn't work under anybody.

He played witness to get the man put away so instead of doing time he'd get sent to the facility.

As if he'd ever let himself ACTUALLY be reformed.

Mc is onto him immediately and it shocks him. Legitimately he is shocked. He's a flawless lier and no one's ever been able to catch him. They can only speculate. Not only that mc knows when he's about to steal before even HE knows it. Even when he DOESNT know he's gonna do it.

At first he thought it was because mc was a lier to. Or a thief to. But she never lies. Never steals. He knows because he's watched her for hours and hours on end.

He's never had a gentle touch and he's scared when mc reaches to do so. Attachment is dangerous and fickle. He's so course and aloof to you even when he's joking and being playful.

But then mc catches him gouging a shiv he made into his bones...

He fully expected your judgement and pity but instead she showed him hers. She never told him where she got hers and she never asked why he felt the need to hurt himself.

Instead you placed your fragile teeny tiny hands on his and started crying. Crying for him. For yourself. He dropped the shiv and in a moment of weakness he cried to.

After that he started actually trying. He kind of adopted sweets as a baby bro. He likes to help mc give Erik and sweets makeovers.

He unlocks mischievous Mc. He's the only one who can get her to play harmless pranks and make cute little jokes.

With all this going on and the boys growing closer, by the time the program regimen ends for them they actually decide to keep receiving help. And they partake in the program where they can work in the facility so their never to far from their precious mc.

[rueur]

Morning Pages No. 61

Monday 24th August - 1:04pm

I know that it’s a bit late in the day to start this entry, but I needed another bit of a morning off. Evan and I had an early night last night but we had sex first. We were both so tired afterwards due to consistent daily workouts, that we ended up falling asleep naked and staying asleep till about 8am. To be clear, we went to bed around 10:30pm, so it was a long night of sleep for both of us. I’m grateful for it though, because even though my calves still hurt like crazy, I do feel refreshed and like the healing process is underway. What did we do this morning? The son of a bitch restarted Breath of the Wild and we’ve both been playing on his new save file. I have to buy another copy of that game because I really want to replay it now. Even so, I have a lot of work to do and I’m yet to make proper headway on Julie’s new site. It’s coming along relatively fine in Squarespace but I’ve only worked on it for about an hour and I’ve yet to add the privacy policy and finetune a lot of the product links. I feel like we’ll absolutely need to add some copy for the products, and definitely put a disclaimer about the use of fabric softener either at the top of the description or below...or both? It’s pretty important.

I’ve been chatting to Sarah on Whatsapp. I feel like Sarah is a bit of a better influence on me than Wren, but I hate that I’m comparing them both in my head. I just feel a bit disheartened in my relationship with Wren, because of all the horrid experiences I’ve had with them over the course of this year. It’s been quite confronting to see how Wren acts when they’ve decided they’re in a more dire situation than me...like I’m not even sure if that’s what’s happened, but that’s what it’s felt like to me. I can’t understand how they’ve just been able to decide that just because they’re living alone, this time is harder on them? I don’t know. And even if it is harder, which I can admit that it most likely is, that doesn’t mean that I should have to incorporate addressing their pain into my life on a daily basis. I was willing to chat every day. But I also don’t want to feel like my life has to be placed on hold for them, whenever they may want me. I’ve felt like that enough in this friendship as it is. I’ve given them whatever I’m capable of giving, and I’ve given them a hell of a lot more than I’ve given any other friend I have ever had. Except, maybe, for Malith. But Malith has certainly given me more than I’ve given him. Goddamn. I’m fighting the urge to delete this whole paragraph, but I deserve to express myself. This year has been fucking hard for me. I’ve not been suicidal, because that part of my life is over. Even if Evan and I break up, that part of my life will always always be over. It’s no longer an option in my head, to go down that route. It’s a time-waster. There are better things to do than yearn without end, than wish for better than you’ve got. I’ve been dealt both a bad and good hand, and it’s only bad because I see it as so. It’s only good because I see it as so. Wren needs to learn that everyone has fucked up mums, figuratively speaking. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wish they had lived without. Everyone has SOMETHING that they wished was just a smidge better than it was. I don’t want any part of explaining all the fucked up shit that has happened to me over the course of my childhood. I don’t want to have a dick-measuring contest when it comes to depression and trauma. Fuck that. I’d much rather live in the present and be happy with the life I’ve built for myself. Even Wren needs to feel their privilege to a certain degree. It would be ludicrous if they didn’t. Two apartments, a job that they love that compensates them really fucking well, and an abundance of resources that provides them with independence and agency. I have so little of all that they have, and I’m working my ass off for next to nothing in return, just building up a resume that may not even receive a stolen glance at the end of all of this mindful building. Who knows? My fate rests in the hands of people who I feel quite sincerely don’t want me to succeed. I have a name and face and degree that is just...unhireable. But I don’t let that beat me the fuck down, because I know that I work harder and fucking smarter than anyone else on that pile of resumes. So I keep going, knowing that my work will become of a benefit to whichever organisation I end up representing.

My whole being right now is just revolving around entering the industry, like properly becoming a content writer and being able to actually use my degree to begin to pay off that motherfucking HECS debt. I know I’m swearing a fucking lot, but I feel like it’s actually helping me so I’m not going to stop. I don’t care who reads this and who judges me for it because at the end of the day, you’re the ones reading these sensitive pages on a blog that I’ve told nobody about. How did you get here?

I’m feeling paranoid, fired up. I can feel it in my fingers. My hands are freezing cold, and Evan’s in the one room that has the heater and he’s sitting there on his ass with the door shut. And I’m starting to feel like maybe I always find myself on the outside because I allow myself to get there. I have to start standing up for my damn self, but also...I know how to choose my battles, I suppose. Is it knowing how to choose your battles if you partake in a MINIMAL number of battles? Like a fractional amount of battles to the battles that you could have potentially fought in? Fuck. Nicky’s sleeping on my white vest. I may need to patch that up, but the inner fabric is so sheer, I’m not entirely sure how it’ll respond to a needle and thread. I may need excess fabric...we’ll see.

My cross-stitch order is on the way, and I’m excited to begin this new activity. I bought a hot air balloon pattern for Wren, I’m not sure if I’ve already said that. I’m looking forward to learning how to do this, because apparently it’s quite similar to knitting? Or at least the basics of knitting. I’ve heard that cross-stitch is a good introduction to knitting. After this, it may be good to see if I can give crochet a go too, but it’s also a little bit intimidating. I mean crochet is all about three-dimensional creations, whereas cross-stitch and knitting are generally more...patterned art, scarves, and blankets. Still functional, but more veering on the side of two-dimensionality. I’m a touch surprised that ‘dimensionality’ is a word. It feels like the kind of word that a primary school-aged student would assert is ‘ACTUALLY A WORD’, even though you know it’s not. OH, listen to this fresh hell! That ‘SNACCIDENT’ Typo lunch mug thingo we have says that the word ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a VERB, which is plain RIDICULOUS. If the word ‘accident’ is a noun and they’re claiming that ‘SNACCIDENT’ is a verb, then a sample sentence using that word would read as follows: ‘Henry snaccidented’. VERBS ARE FUCKING DOING WORDS. In no CONCEIVABLE UNIVERSE would ‘SNACCIDENT’ be considered a VERB. My fucking lord. These pages are just RAGE-FILLED, aren’t they? Which is actually pretty interesting, because I don’t feel mad? I feel fine. I feel a little bit annoyed that it’s almost 1:30pm and I’ve not done a lick of work either today or yesterday. I’m thinking I should send Julie a text today asking if she’d be free to meet up again sometime early next week, maybe Tuesday or Wednesday? I feel like I could make great progress on the website during that time. We shall see what happens. We shall see what I eventually get around to doing. I need money, gosh darn...

I feel like I’ve been writing a lot about money during these pages, and I understand why. Money has become a bit of an issue for me since moving out, which I know...doesn’t necessarily need to be said. But you must understand that I’m studying AND working AND working AND working AND working. And I’m still not making that much. It’s frustrating. I’m trying not to think about it right now because of lockdown and the fact that the bulk of my situation is currently out of my own control, but this is all really because of the house. Just knowing that Evan and I are ready for that step is enough for me to just want it now. The issue is - as is usually the case - MONEY. If we had enough for at least a 10% deposit, that would be insane. But a 10% deposit on a house valued at $500,000 is $50,000, and combined we only have HALF of that. If we could potentially get some rich parents or guardians to match what we have, then we could actually do it. But who even has rich parents or guardians? And I don’t think my dad would sign off on this until maybe after we’re married? I’m fighting the urge to go check if the house is still even listed online. I’m hopeful that it’ll be up until we have the money. Or maybe until we can get to a combined $30,000, to give us a bit of a buffer once we’ve given the rest of our money to whichever gross corporation decides to grant us a loan. Ahhhhhh. Why does this world try its hardest to strip you of all your agency? Why is it that so many people struggle to even find a place to be? A place to call their own? It’s cruel. I can only hope this archaic order is on its way out. I was hoping the realities of climate change, or police brutality, or perhaps even COVID-19 would pave the way for the people’s revolution, but I now feel it may be something more innocuous, more unexpected. Something that the bigwigs won’t see coming, as the people themselves won’t see it coming. Even so, everybody knows that it’s on its way. The ultimate fight between the oppressors and the oppressed, and the one brawl that may reveal the future of western society. Democracy is indeed dead. We’ll see how quickly the next system comes into place, and exactly whose side that system will be on. And as for the universal base income, I find myself rooting more and more for it, but I also know that it may be provided to us as a band-aid, built to keep the people’s revolution at bay. But as long as there are billionaires, there’s no way that the revolution won’t be coming. Exponential growth cannot occur unless it’s built on the backs of millions, billions. This current system is just not economically viable, which is ironic considering that ‘economic strength’ is usually the reason capitalists vouch for capitalism. I believe capitalists are just people who haven’t shirked their ‘American Dream’ yet, who basically still believe in Santa Claus. I’m not even sure what to call myself. A social capitalist? I believe people should feel compelled to build their businesses and to innovate their industries, but I don’t believe in penalising those who have ‘valueless skills’. I also refuse to believe there is such a thing as a ‘valueless skill’. Perhaps being able to write stream of consciousness entries is a valueless skill. That may be the only thing.

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Knitting

Warnings: Kissing and the briefest mention of ‘adult activities’.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N 1: Thank you to @daughter-of-ophelia for the request! I hope this was worth the wait! I certainly enjoyed writing it. Also a huge thank you to my beta and PSM @mollymarymarie (ilysm 🖤) Without further ado, I give you Joe fluff.

It all started on Pinterest.

You needed something to do on your long flight to Anaheim, so you looked for easy projects on Pinterest. That was mistake #1.

You looked to your left and let out a sigh at the sight of auburn hair fluffed up from being pressed against the window of the plane.

Joe was always able to read or sleep or watch a movie. You envied him. But reading made you feel sick if you tried to focus for too long, movies were never long enough and strained your eyes, and sleep never came easy when you were surrounded by so many strangers.

Whoever said that you could knit a hat in two hours was LYING. You should have two cute hats by the time you landed, one for you and one for Joe. You’d planned a lovely deep green beanie for him (it just went too well with his pale complexion and auburn hair) and a sweet cream for yourself (it went with almost every outfit you packed, plus who doesn’t love neutral colors).

But your hands were being dumb, so dumb. Why was it so hard to hold these needles? And how tf did she cast on so many stitches so quickly? This video was not helping you at all. The article with descriptions and pictures wasn’t helping either. You snapped.

“Babe, wake up.”  

“mmm. Wha?”

“Take some of this from me. I’m about to throw it,”

“What? Why?” Joe’s brain was still catching up to his current situation. You were honestly amazed at how deeply he could be asleep in under thirty minutes, possibly even a little jealous.

“Take this,” you basically threw a skein of cream-colored yarn at him, “and hold it before I yeet it down the aisle.”

“Okay. But maybe I should take the needles instead?” He rested his hand over your wrist to keep the knitting needles in your lap. “You know, because they’re pointy and can damage someone.” He slid his hand down and took them from your grasp.

“I mean, I guess they could hurt someone if I threw them hard enough,” you rolled your eyes and looked out the window, “but they’re so light I doubt I could get any real distance.”

“Whatever you say, champ.” He moved the yarn and needles to the side farthest from you and began to rub soothing circles on your knee. “I just think that we shouldn’t maim anyone on the flight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “Well, now that you’re awake, you can help me.”

“And I will, but maybe first we calm down a little?” He quickly lifted the arm rest between you and then opened his arms for you to snuggle into.

You were hesitant, but you did take him up on the offer. After just a few seconds of having your face pressed against his chest, you felt less like screaming and throwing things and more like giving the project a second chance. Even with the new found calm you had, you weren’t exactly ready to let go of Joe. The reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat and the comforting smell of him, of home, were too hard to give up when you were frustrated.

A few minutes later, Joe kissed the top of your head. “Mkay, are you ready to try again?”

You just nodded, with your face still pressed to his chest. Slowly, you sat yourself back up in your seat and held out your hands. “I’m ready and I promise I won’t throw anything.”

With pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow, Joe handed back both the yarn and needles. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, but I still need your help with this one. I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong.” You slid down in your chair and let your knees rest firmly against the seat in front of you. “I don’t get how I can crochet no problem, but attempt this and suddenly it’s like I don’t know what yarn is.”

Joe just looked at you with his same pout. It was almost like he was trying to decide what would be worse: learning how to knit with you or listening to you rant for at least another hour. Eventually, he extended his hand, “Phone, please.”

You handed it over with the infuriating video still pulled up. Joe watched in an almost uncharacteristic silence for a few moments, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, you come here,” he lifted the arm closest to you, “and put your back to my chest. I’ve got an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. How on Earth could he have an idea about helping you knit that required him to hold you?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Quit giving me that look and just get over here.” He motioned with his hands for you to make your move or continue pouting.

With a roll of your eyes, you caved and settled into his embrace.

“So, according to the video,” he reached towards your hand that held the yarn and one needle, “we have to cast on so many stitches and then we can actually do the stitch and all the dropping and what not.”

You just nodded and let him guide your hands while he talked you through the whole process. It was surprising how his hands moved with such grace through a process he’d never attempted before. The creamy yarn seemed to pass over, under, and through his, and your, hands quickly. The movements were mesmerizing to watch, and the warmth and assurance in his embrace only added to the fogging of your mind. Before you knew it, it was time to cast off and finish the first hat.

“It looks wonderful, baby. Will you try it on to show me?” Joe whispered into your ear, mindful of the other passengers that had nodded off during the long flight.

“Yeah, just give me a second to arrange it correctly.” You murmured back, finally being pulled from the warm and fuzzy feeling of watching the yarn move through your combined hands.

The hat had turned out wonderfully for a first attempt. It seemed to be very flexible and thick enough to keep the wind out of your ears. Thankfully, it was your hat and not Joe’s so you could improve your technique.

You slipped it onto your head, mindful of your hair, you didn’t want to mess up your part for the rest of the day, and began fixing its position. It seemed to take forever for it to feel right on your head, but when it finally did, you double checked it with your phone’s camera. You’d actually managed to get it to sit just right in the front with a decent slouch in the back.

Joe waited expectantly for you to face him again.

“There’s my girl.”

His eyes softened as he took you in, his  umber colored eyes taking on a slightly burnt, yet soft, color. He couldn’t help but smile at you. “You look quite cozy in that. Almost too cozy. I wanna try it.”

“Mkay. Hold, please.” You took the creation off of your head and carefully placed it on Joe, making sure to run your fingers through his hair before positioning it just right.

“You look absolutely dashing, babe. Let me take a pic.”

Joe struck a pose (one hand on his head, the other on his hip, sticking it out as best he could while sitting), and then another (pouting while sticking out his tongue and crossing his arms), and another (so many more, the man is a master at ridiculous poses) until the two of you were a giggling mess in your seats and you had at least 20 new pictures in your gallery of the two of you in various stages of wearing your hat.

Joe had fallen back asleep shortly after our photoshoot, still wearing your hat. He did look very cute in it, but it was just a touch too snug around his forehead. Something to keep in mind for the one your were about to begin working on.

You started the video again, just to refresh your mind over what the process should look like. There was a phantom feeling of arms around you and hands guiding yours as you lost yourself in the trancework of knitting yet again. Since, you only had one set of hands to watch this time, your mind decided to wander.

It made its way back to the first time Joe had watched you crochet.

You had been working on a new afghan to conveniently leave at his place, how he lived with it that cold you would never understand. Joe was busy watching the Yankees game. Which, although you loved baseball, you could never cheer for that particular team (you did, however, concede to not cheer against them unless they were playing your team). So, you decided to keep your hands busy and your eyes off the screen.

“What are you doing?” Joe looked over at you while supporting his chin with his hand.

“Making myself a blanket.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brows.

“Because you keep this place an ungodly temperature, Joseph. Aren’t you supposed to be watching the game?” The Yankees were playing your number two team, so you technically couldn’t cheer against them, but you were still pissed they were winning.

“Yeah, but it’ll be an easy win.” He teased, wanting you to take the bait. “This looks far more interesting.”

“You’re not wrong.” Anything is better than this damned game right now, you thought.

To be honest, you had found several skeins of yarn in the perfect shade of gray to hide well enough in his living room. He always kept his apartment too cold for you and your were finally taking action to solve that problem. You were kind of hoping the game would keep his attention long enough for you to finish it up.

He ended up watching you more often than the game, mesmerized by how your hands could manipulate the material, and missed the walk-off double that cost the Yankees the game. By 6pm that evening, you had not only finished the blanket, but gotten Joe so worked up over the loss that you managed to hide it without him catching you.

That particular blanket had since been moved to the arm of his couch to use at your discretion, and for post-season cuddles and some other not so cuddly uses.

You had just cast off the last stitch of Joe’s hat when the captain announced your final approach to the airport.

Joe didn’t stir until you had safely tucked both beanies back into your carry-on, and the touch-down of the plane literally jerked him awake.

“Did you have a good nap, babe?”

“The best.” He let out a yawn. “ I dreamed I was still holding you and watching us create more things together.”

“Awe, Joseph, you sap.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the hours-old stubble seemingly exfoliate your lips. “But we should prepare to get out of here, I’m ready for a nap now.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Getting off the plane and collecting your luggage was, thankfully, uneventful. Allowing you time to admire Joe while he guided the two of you through the airport. He’d chosen a very understated outfit for travelling, much like yourself. The black jacket, gray sweater, and dark jeans would look fantastic with the green of his hat. You couldn’t have planned this any better if you’d actually tried. 

Although you’d been travelling to Anaheim, a usually sunny locale, the weather had decided to take a turn for the frigid and windy as of late. As you walked towards the passenger pick up area, you turned to Joe and pulled him off to the side.

“You better put your hat on, babe. I don’t want the wind to mess with your ears while we’re here.”

“Baby, you’re wearing the only hat we have.” He looked puzzled, brows furrowing and lips pursing as he took in the sight of you in seemingly the only hat between the two of you.

“No I’m not.” You presented him with his own patch of knitted green. “This is for you. I hope the color is okay.”

He grabbed the swath of green from you and felt the material in his own hands.

“It’s perfect.” He leaned in to wrap you into a quick hug and gave you a chaste kiss. “Put it on for me?”

You nodded to let him know that you gladly would and stepped back to admire your handiwork. You had done an excellent job of choosing this color for Joe. He was a little pale from all the cloudy weather you’d been faced with for the last few months, so the jewel tone of the hat. coupled with his hair and stubble, was doing an excellent job of making his eyes stand out. You even noticed that the usually deep brown had flecks of green being pulled to the surface courtesy of your creation.

“I think this deserves at least one selfie, don’t you?” You’d almost missed the mischievous glint in his eyes from being lost in the depth of them.

“Are you sure Ben won’t be jealous?” Ben seemed to feel anytime you did something too cute with Joe. It was like he had a sixth sense about this, which was hilarious in all honesty. You were glad to see Joe so happy while interacting with any of his co-stars.

“Nah, he’s got Gwilym in London at the moment. I think he’s suitably distracted.” With that he pulled you into his embrace and snapped a pic while you were still laughing.

@/joe_mazzello: get you a girl that looks at you the way y/n looks at (the hat she made) me #shesthetalent #andthebeauty #lookatthatsmile

A/N 2: Just pretend the pic is not in the woods, okay? Thanks. I hope you enjoyed it! (If you’re curious, the teams I was thinking about as my #1 and #2 teams are the Astros and the Rangers, respectively.)

[ldybluerse]

My Heart and Head Hurt.

So Very, Very Much

I am Asexual. I like cuddling, kissing, loving touches, I even love to make inappropriate sex jokes. Okay, I can make some pretty lewd sex jokes but that’s what happens when like 90% of your friends for the past ten years identify as pansexual. I just don’t feel sexual attraction and I am mostly repulsed by sex (ehhh it’s too much to explain).

At the first of the year, I moved to Texas from Michigan. Leaving behind all my friends, which with the internet isn’t terrible... but also my friends are shit at peopling on the Internet. Not angry or blame, they all have depression and anxiety. I get it. Just saying it’s hard to pretty much completely lose that connection with my friends. My friends are also the type where we would all pile into my bed and watch videos while cuddling with each other and my dogs. They spent so much time caring for me after my surgeries.

Being handicapped, and still learning how to live with it (it’s a relatively recent thing and takes relearning how to live life in a way that works for your limitations) I live with my parents. They are great but... they have their own mental health issues that really fucked me up as I grew up. It means that I don’t feel like I can open up or talk to them about anything because of what happened back then. I love them and I know they would do anything for me, but it’s just this thing I have. Heck, I have trouble opening up to my therapist for a long time. My therapist, who I also had to leave in Michigan. And Texas Medicaid? Kind of non-existent. Plus, I’m too old for my parents to be taking care of me, you know western standards and all, so I can’t have insurance through them.

Basically, I ran out of some of my medicine months ago, which means I live in near constant pain too. I can’t go see a therapist, because I can’t afford it. I haven’t run out of my depression medication yet, so there is that.

Since my accident (I will do another post on that later, because that will take a while), I haven’t been able to work. The accident was in December 2011, since 2013, I have had ten surgeries. I started back to school because it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be up for any type of manual labor. But it also means I feel useless because physically I’m limited and mentally I am so fucked up I can’t do what I can handle doing. I graduated with my Bachelor (really proud of) but Texas has some different requirements that will add a lot of time towards getting my Masters, because Michigan didn’t have those requirements. This means I am going to enroll in an accredited online program, hopefully. Have to get accepted, fingers crossed.

To summarize, for ten months I have been isolated in a different state, dealing with body trying to adjust to different weather and medicine changes. Self isolation isn’t helping but the other problem is when I do reach out, there isn’t someone there...

Background info done, now to what’s troubling me:

My best friend and girlfriend is also Asexual. We’ve been together for almost eight years, but it’s always been long distance (we’re Ace, it doesn’t bug us too much) and I have gone to visit her. We started “talking” through Role Play and until recently, whenever there was lulls in life when a lot wasn’t happening, we could lean back on the Role Play to stay connected. There wasn’t a day when we didn’t talk to each other, even during the hospital visits we both went through, we stayed connected in some small way. And we talked about everything and anything. Our fandoms didn’t always match up, but it was fun listening and learning... I thought...

She was dealing with a lot of stuff, and for a few years was out of work, probably why she had so much time and energy for me. It was really bad for her for a while, where she even verbally attacked me on a few occasions. I know it wasn’t her but her mental illness, so I forgive her for it. But it was bad.

She was raised super Christian (DONT celebrate Halloween because it’s evil type Christian), and she has always been Christian even if she yelled at God a lot in her low days. Yeah, the good Christian girl is dating the Goth Pagan Celtic Witch... whatever you will call me. I’ve been Pagan for about 2/3rds of my life by now, so it’s not like she didn’t know she I was one. She’s never tried to shame or convert me.

My Bachelor is in Religious Studies, I know how good a religion can be for someone’s mental health if they are religious. I would talk to her about rekindling her faith. Finding a church she could at least go sit and listen to, so she could reconnect. She did! And it’s been amazing for her mental health. She has held a steady job for a while, actually is the poster child for the program that helped her move foreword and get her life back in order. I am so very proud of her and I do love her so much.

I just think... she’s outgrown me. The only fandom she talks about anymore is... Christianity. She doesn’t talk about LoZ anymore. She doesn’t talk about Tolkien. She doesn’t watch anime or cartoons anymore. She has no interest in Role Playing, as I said a big part of staying connected.

She talks about work, her cats, crocheting, and her religion. The thing is, I can’t fault her for any of it if it’s what’s best for her. She deserves happiness and stability. But...even when I’m back in school and when I get a job I don’t think I could leave the world of fantasy and fiction behind.

I grew up going to Ren Faires, my dad wearing tights. My first boyfriend I met at Ren Faire, while he was in tights. Labryinth and The Last Unicorn are still my favorite movies of all time! I collect Dragons of all sorts. I’ve watched the whole series of Fraggle Rock a few times, because it’s just wholesome and sweet.

My parents are Trekkies, my mom has had some of her fanfiction a published in old Starlog Zines. We watch fantasy, fiction, actions, cartoons... my mom has always loved the world of books, especially fantasy. She collects unicorns, so many unicorns. When I got into Anime, so did my mom. Kenshin is still her favorite, although to be fair she loved Ultron and Speed Racer when they first came to the states (she says Speed Racer was her first ever crush).

My brothers love the same thing, my oldest brother still fans for Jason David Frank. My other brother, well, he named his cat Pandea after WoW, we have his LotR sword collection, all his movie memorabilia...

We’re nerds and dorks and not afraid to be so.

Since the move the only thing making me happy has been my animals (Gods and Goddesses the fluffy bastards are clingers and just want to love you and be loved which is something I need) and fantasy. I’ve watched several animes I just want to gush about, but if you don’t have someone who is watching it too... you don’t want to ruin it. I want to just talk someone’s ear off about Steven Universe or Miraculous the Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Hell, even Ducktales and Tangled. Do you know how AMAZING they have made Ducktales?! I watched the original series when I was younger but...! And all the inside jokes!!!!

The books! I probably read about thirty or forty in one month when I went on a book binge. They were all trashy romance novels, and admittedly the sex scenes were... meh... I’m Asexual, what do you expect?! Okay... some Aces like sex and stuff. It’s not that important to me. What is, is the connection two people have to each other. The love. And trashy romance novels aren’t the best at giving that... but it’s something.

Oh and the Webcomics. I have always, always loved Webcomics. I used to have the folders on my old computer organized down to the day of the week the comics updated because I so many, that I had to organize them just to get the right updates! Right now Lore Olympics. OMG Lore Olympics. Be still my heart! I am reading several on WEBTOON. I have a few I follow through DeviantArt; Erma is so frikken cute! Daughter of the Lilies, ahhhhhh so amazing and the artwork!!! Pincushion! Constructs will always have a place in my heart!

I just got into the Good Omens fandom, because I’m a Whovian and Tennant is defiantly one of my most favorite of Doctors. He was just so beautiful in it. And when I took my Shakespeare course my teacher had us watch Hamelt and ohhhhh Tennant. Ohhhh you really can’t tell if Hamlet has gone crazy or it’s an act (which he claims it is!!). Sir Patrick Stewart was also just... oh!!! I entered Good Omens because my Instagram was all Ineffable Husbands (I think because of my Doctor Who love). Finally, finally i watched it.

That was like three weeks ago I got into Good Omens and I still am completely in love. The tenderness, the loving looks. I have to read the book! And the script book! (Depression, yay!). I need to listen to the radio adaptation and revisit Queen (I was raised on rock’n’roll. And I mean, David Bowie has probably been the only Rock Star I ever went heart-eyes for... also kinda sad he wasn’t mentioned in Good Omens because he did work with Queen and let’s face it, Bowie was so gender-nonconforming!). I just want to ramble and babble on and on about the series with someone. About all the hidden bits and pieces and theories and things in my head!!!

But... I don’t have anyone. My girlfriend sort of shuts down when I talk about any of the fandoms I like. She will just skip those parts of the conversation and comment on the animal videos I send her or something else. She will talk about work or God. Again, I’m know Religion and people. If there is something I know best is you can’t dictate what someone else’s beliefs are. So while I know the Bible and Christian theory, when she talks about it and tells me stories I can only “nod” and “smile” because if a persons religion isn’t harming themselves or others, and it’s helping them, I don’t think it would be right to argue theory and philosophy with them over what is mostly fairytale stories in a book. I’m not saying their isn’t a Christian God, or many Gods, or things in the Bible didn’t happen, but not all of it is factual nor was it ever meant to be seen as strictly factual. I try to show I am at least paying attention to what she says.

At the same time, with the state I have been in, I probably haven’t given her what she needs when she is telling me about stuff.

Fantasy and fiction has been the only thing keeping me afloat. Religion and work has been helping her. I just can’t see a world without the magic of make-believe but that’s not where she is anymore.

So... I’ve been thinking for a bit now maybe we’re no longer what we need for each other in our lives. Not that we don’t love each other, and not that we can’t still be friends... but maybe it’s time we adventure out? We were what we needed from each other for years... maybe we just aren’t that anymore.

[likingletsplays]

The Nightmares (1/?)

Authors note: TW: Blood TW: Gore TW: Death

The fire was so hot, and the glass was shattered all around them. The smell of blood and smoke was full in his nose. The screams of the wounded and dying was the only thing that could be heard. He pulled and pushed uselessly at the metal seats that had him pinned to the floor on his side. 

“It’ll be ok mom.” He coughed out reaching for her but a few feet short of actually being able to touch her. She groaned turning her head to face him. Her green tear filled eyes focused on him and she gave him a week smile. Metal rods from the handle bars of the bus were sticking out at odd angels from her stomach and chest. Shards of glass were embedded in her face and neck. He guessed he couldn’t look much better himself.

“I love you so much son.” She gasped out blood trickling from the corners of her mouth.

“Don’t say that like a good bye!” he yelled out struggling harder against the metal.

“Take care of your dad for me, your all he has left.” She replied and closed her eyes. She coughed bring up more blood into her mouth that spilled like a fountain from her lips.

“No! mom! HELP someone!” He yelled. He watched her gasp in her last breath; watched helplessly as her body wilted against the floor. Then a scream burst from him. He began pulling and pushing as hard as he could against the metal. He thought he was almost free when the bus shifted, causing more to cascade down onto him. As it settled he felt an instance pain in his lower legs. He yelled out again tears springing to his burning eyes.

Eric sat bolt upright in his bed, his scream dying to whimpers in his thought as soon as his eyes focused on the dimly lit room around him. He turned to look at Randal, blinking back the tears. Randal just turned over the other way. That was one of the many things that Eric was grateful for with his roommate. He always gave him his space and never asked questions unless Eric brought it up first.

With shaky and sweaty hands, Eric pulled on his prosthetics. He grabbed his embroidery squares and his needles. He slowly and shakily made his way down the dark and quiet hallway. He stopped next to the bathroom. He wanted to look at his face. but he also knew what other scars he would see on his face and didn’t feel like revisiting any other hard memories tonight. He turned and walked to the front room.

He stopped mid-stride, heading for the red plush chair by the fire, to the sight of Bing and King sitting on the long couch on either side of Chase. Chase looked like he was near death. His skin was a pail green, his blue eyes wavering in and out of focus, his fingers encircled a coffee cup that had long since been empty.

“Did we wake you?” Bing asked looking away from Chase to look at Eric with concern.

“I uh….no. Just can’t s-sleep t-tonight.” He answered his eyes flickering nervously between Bing and Chase.

“Well your usual place by the fire is open. And I can add a few logs to the fire to keep it nice and warm.” King said standing up.

“I don’t know if he w-will w-want me in here.” Eric said his voice barely above a whisper.

Chase looked up from his coffee cup, eyes watering slightly, “This is your house Eric. I have no right to tell you where you can and can’t be. I am so sorry for earlier today I was completely out of line and in the wrong. No one should be disrespected in their own home. I should have never done anything like that in the first place. I’m sorry I took my pain out on you.”

Eric took a few tentative steps forward. He briefly looked at King before turning his full attention onto Chase. “T-that w-would b-be nice, t-thank you King. A-and Chase, I’m used t-to it. You a-are not t-the first one w-who has used me a-as a-a verbal punching b-bag b-because of family issues or s-someone just feeling b-bad a-about t-themselves. A-and I can guarantee you w-won’t b-be t-the last. Being disabled, w-while having t-the a-advantages of b-better parking a-and a-almost never having t-to w-wait in line a-at a-an a-amusement park does have its disadvantages. People s-see me a-as a-a w-weaker person so t-they t-take t-their hurt a-and a-anger out on me.”

“Oh yes he will be the last person. At least under my roof,” Eric turned his head to see Dark and Anti standing a few feet behind him in the doorway, “Eric you are family here and I wont allow guests or people who have lived in this house for years to treat you that way.” Dark said then turned to face Anti, “Im going to bed, ill see you in the morning.” Dark disappeared out of sight. Eric forced his eyes away from Anti his skin tingling from the thought of his hands on him again.

“Would you like more coffee?” Anti asked as Eric slid into the red puffy chair.

“Yes please. Can I also have a peanutbutter and honey sandwich?” Chase asked.

“Of course, King, Bing Eric do any of you want anything?” Anti asked.

Eric jumped at the sound of his name from Anti’s mouth. He looked up from the string he was inspecting to add to the current square up to Anti, “Just some tea for me. Its too…early for coffee.” Anti nodded and both King and Bing wanted coffee. Eric watched Anti walk away and felt his face warm. He could feel how attracted he was to the man. He could feel the wanting to be in the same room as him. He wanted to just stare at the man for hours.

Eric forced himself to look down at the handkerchief down in his lap but his head soon snapped back up when he heard Anti re-enter the room. He held three cups of coffee in both hands with a sandwich balanced on top of the cups. He carefully handed them to the other men then walked back out of the room.

Eric bit his lip as he stared down again at the handkerchief. He needed to stay focused on it but couldn’t make his mind concentrate at the task. His mind kept wandering to earlier today when Anti had held him close. it felt like his skin was tingling from everywhere he could remember anti touching him.

“Here you go.” Anti said a few minutes later holding out a steaming cup to Eric.

“Thank you.” Eric said in a shaking voice taking the cup.

“Can I join you?” Anti asked motioning to the blue chair that was across form Eric.

“S-sure.” Eric said. His face felt like it was on fire when Anti smiled at him and slid down into the other armchair. He pulled the black backpack off his shoulders and began to pull out a long metal bar and a ball of yarn. After a few minutes of staring at the man Eric forced himself to look back at the string in his lap.

“Are you working on embroidery?” Anti asked. Eric looked back up his eyes meeting Anti’s.

“Yes. My mother t-taught me w-when I w-was young a-and it keeps my mind b-busy usually.” Eric answered holding up the res square in his hands. A brown tree was taking shape on the square along with a few cherry blossoms, “It’s for Yan.”

Anti nodded smiling, “I don’t have the patience to do something so intricate. I mostly crochet blankets, scarves, mittens anything that I really want to put my mind to.”

Eric smiled back, “Maybe you could t-teach me one t-time.”

“Id be my pleasure.” Anti answered back. He looked back down a small smile on his lips and began to crochet again. Eric continued to look at Anti for several more moments before he started to work on the embroidery.

“Can I ask you something?” Anti asked after almost an hour of silence.

“W-what do you w-want t-to know?” Eric asked sitting back in the chair.

“Why were you screaming?” Anti whispered his eyes locked on the ground his jaw tight.

Eric felt his face warm, “You heard t-that?” he croaked out. He began to pull Yan’s handkerchief between his fingers.

“Your room is right next to mine.” Anti answered quietly.

“Just a-a nightmare.” Eric whispered feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Do you have them often?” Anti asked looking up from the floor to meet Eric’s eyes.

Eric nodded mutely before dropping his eyes to the floor in shame and mumbled, “A-all t-the t-time.”

“Well if you want help with them…I can help you.” Anti said and then explained, “Every ego has their own special gift. I am able to manipulate the human brain when someone is sleeping. I can stop or, if I wanted to, I could create nightmares. If you want…I can help you escape the nightmares and teach you to control your dreams. I’ve been working on it with Schneeplestein recently and I taught Jameson almost a year ago how to stop them.”

Eric nodded. He bit his lip before answering, “Yes i’d like the help.” He knew he was answering for selfish reasons. He wanted to spend more time with Anti and this was a perfect reason to. He also knew that Anti most likely wouldn’t be able to actually help him. He had gone to countless therapists to try to help with the reoccurring nightmares of funerals, deaths and abuse that he had experienced through his life and they hadn’t been able to help. But then again he gets to spend time with Anti so even if he would be sitting out in the front room after anti trying to help he would get to spend more time with him.

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