#crochet box stitch

[elenadoeslife]

trying out a new stitch to use for a phone bag 🐚

[thecrochetcrowd]

Entrelac Afghan Pattern

Entrelac Crochet Afghan Pattern Entrelac Afghan + Video Tutorial Entrelac Crochet is the art of creating gorgeous afghans that have boxed shapes that grow with each other. The concept is really easy once you understand the concept and stitch counts. I’ve filmed a video showing the step by step process of creating an Entrelac Crochet Afghan. In the original pattern, you will see the edges are in…

[fleurie3am15inspo]

NO! *angry cat hiss*

I don't know who needs to hear this, but

YOU DO NOT NEED TO START A NEW HOBBY!

STEP AWAY FROM THE TEXTILES!

YOU DON'T NEED MORE YARN!

THAT FABRIC IS NOT CALLING TO YOU! LEAVE IT ALONE!

[alastryona]

started a new project AND I managed to start the yarn without royally fucking it up this time 😎

that blob next to the skein is the center that I managed to get out and find the end on without spreading it across the room in a tangled panic like last time

and after I balled it properly + the beginnings of the hat im making :3

[reasonsforhope]

"According to National Coalition for the Homeless, 40% of the country’s homeless youth population is comprised of LGTBQ+ teens. 

When New York native Austin Rivers took up knitting during the COVID-19 pandemic, it was this staggering figure that drove him towards action. 

“I don’t have the capacity to build a shelter, the network or the connections to help in that way, but what I can do is knit,” Rivers told NBC News. 

“And I know that New York City is cold, so I decided I would start knitting and create this nonprofit.”

That’s when he founded Knit the Rainbow, an organization that distributes free handmade garments to those in need. 

And nearly five years after it was first created, Rivers’ knitting collective isn’t just serving the queer community in New York City.

Their nationwide network links local yarn stores and local nonprofits with over 550 volunteers from 45 states. 

As of 2024, they have collected and distributed over 25,000 winter garments — including sweaters, hats, gloves, scarves, and socks — throughout homeless communities in New Jersey, Chicago, Detroit, and beyond. 

Once clothing items are shipped to Rivers’ apartment, he works with volunteers to unpack boxes, tag and sort donations, and pack and deliver them to local shelters that provide housing to LGBTQ+ and HIV+ homeless youth. 

Although the organization’s impact is wider, and the piles of mail have grown higher, Rivers still has a hand in day-to-day deliveries. 

“We’re going to do it whether it’s rain, or snow, or shine,” Rivers said in his NBC News interview, pulling a handcart topped with boxes. 

Those clothes could be the difference between frostbite and hospitalization, especially in cities that often drop below freezing in the wintertime. 

But Rivers also noted that every handmade item — knitted, crocheted, or stitched — has a dual impact, because every piece of clothing is made with love. 

“A lot of the times, the reason that they’re unhoused is because they were kicked out by their families,” Rivers said. 

“We’re not just providing warmth, but we’re also providing that love and that compassion that they so often don’t have.” 

To the members of the community Knit The Rainbow served, he had a clear message.

“There are thousands of people out here that are constantly thinking of you and using their hands to make things for you,” Rivers emphasized. “So don’t give up. Keep going.”

To download free knitting [and crochet] patterns, donate a garment, or sign up to volunteer, you can visit the organization's website to get started." 

‍-via GoodGoodGood, December 23, 2024

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I think that if I'll ever actually learn embroidery I'm going to try sell my stuff, I uhhh make a lot more than I can keep tbh so it would be nice to make stuff and then sending it elsewhere + getting a little bit of money

[gay-dorito-dust]

I was wondering if you could write something about how the Batboys (and maybe Bruce) would react to their s/o who knits or crochets and makes them little gifts just randomly? like little things like a hat or a scarf. Maybe even small plushies of their vigilante personas? (Btw I absolutely LOVE your work)

Dick he fucking loves it!

Seriously dick loved the hat you made him and he’ll wear it even when he didn’t have to, he’s grown too attached to it to the point where he becomes possessive over it.

‘My beautiful and amazing partner made me this hat!’ He’d exclaim.

‘Dick your indoors take the fucking hat off.’ Jason groans but dick was more then willing to look a fucking idiot and keep the hat on throughout the rest of the day, even in his sleep he still wears the hat as it’s your gift to him and who was he to deny the opportunity in wearing it all the time!

He even takes pictures of himself wearing the hat and sending them to you and thanking you for the hat that you’ve made him. He looks so unbelievably happy for someone wearing a hat but to dick it wasn’t just a hat, it was a hat that you made him in your spare time and he couldn’t help it but want to wear it everywhere he goes because again it was something you made especially for him.

So except this loveable man to constantly find ways to wear the hat no matter what.

Raining? He’s wearing the hat.

Snowing? He’s wearing the hat.

Spending time with you in your apartment? He’s wearing the hat as though his life depends on it. He really loves your creation and will shout it from the rooftops that his beautiful partner made it for him and no one else can have it because it’s his!

Damian acts like he hates it but is secretly touched that he was in your thoughts when making such a gift.

He’s not use to someone giving him gifts or going out of their way to make him something he’ll use when the occasion arises. He’s got a light flush going across his face as he caresses the soft scarf that you’ve made him when he told you he misplaced his last one.

‘What’s the meaning behind this gift.’ Damian asks, skeptical of the sudden gift on his lap.

You shrug. ‘You told me you lost your last one-‘

‘Misplaced by continue.’ Damian cuts you off.

‘And I thought that I’d make you one instead and I hope you like it.’ You finished and watched as he opened the bag to find a soft black and emerald green scarf looking back at him. Damian blinks twice before gingerly pulling the scarf out of the box and holds it between his hands as his thumbs get accustomed to the soft material.

Damian doesn’t say much but puts the scarf on and feels himself melting in the softness of it as he takes the time to appreciate your craftsmanship. He loves your gift but doesn’t say it out loud as he’s not attuned to speaking his emotions freely like most people, but you could tell by the way he sinks into the scarf that he likes it and wouldn’t take it off unless he was dead and buried six feet under, and even then you knew you wouldn’t be able to pry the gift from his hands at all from this moment forward.

‘You like it?’ You asked.

‘It’s suitable to combat the cold, the stitching is immaculate and well done.’ Damian compliments as he adjusts the scarf on his neck, tucking it under his chin. ‘Yes this shall replace the other one…until I find it of course.’ He adds and you knew Damian well enough that he wasn’t going to bother finding the other scarf, not that he has a perfectly new one to keep him warm.

So to say you weren’t surprised to see that he was still wearing the scarf months later, claiming he’s still looking for the other one as a fluster looked overcame him that he quickly hide it with the scarf, once again melting in it and the love you’ve put in it just for him.

Bruce smiles softly as he holds a miniature crochet version of himself as Batman between his large hands. It’s cute to him that you took the time to make him this and from the looks of it, it must’ve took you a while to perfect and he couldn’t help but treasure such a gift crafted by your bare hands.

You’ll find the crochet Batman, also known as Batman jr, perched on his desk in the bathroom cave right in from of the keyboard to the bathroom computer. It looked at though the little guy was helping his human counterpart solve crime and make Gotham a better place. It was too cute you thought you were going to die!

‘I’m seeing that you like your gift?’ You asked Bruce as you held up Batman jr from his place at the bat computer.

Bruce chuckled. ‘He was doing some important work for me until you decided to pick him up.’ He joked as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, drawing you closer to him so he could indulge in your presence and hum softly. ‘But I do in fact love the gift, you didn’t have to but I appreciate the work and details you put into him for me my love.’ He adds, given your temple another kiss.

You snuggled yourself deeper into his arms as you both look down at the cute crochet plushie as though it were your child. ‘I’m more than happy that you like it Bruce, I just thought you get lonely sometimes and needed a companion to remind yourself that you’re nowhere near as alone as you’d think.’ You tell him, only to see his soft expression as he looked at you and the crochet version of himself before tightening his grip.

‘Thank you for your hard effort and love to bringing this creation to life my dear, I shall treasure you both for as long as you allow me to.’ He whispers as he kisses you on the lips.

He loves Batman jr and will pet its head when no one’s looking. It’s a reminder of your love for him and he couldn’t help but bestow it with the highest of honour, being his little vigilante companion.

Tim is his most prized possession, he will not loose sight of it and will have it on his being at all times when the occasion calls for it.

He puts his little crochet version of himself on a shelf or keeps it on his person, especially if it’s those crochet bag clip accessories then he’ll proudly have it clipped to his bag, while checking to make sure the little guy was still there and not fallen off anywhere without him knowing.

He’ll cry if he did loose it and will hate himself forever for wasting your hard work and effort. God forbid he accidentally rips it, then he’ll be inconsolable as he brings it towards you with an extremely guilty look upon his face. ‘I’m sorry I broke your gift.’ He’d say and you’d have to hold his face between your hands and pepper kisses across his face as you promise to fix it.

When you do give it back to him, Tim acts as though it’s the first time again with how his face brightens up and how he holds it against his chest, promising to cherish it forever and ever while giving you a kiss to your lips in thanks and appreciation.

He appreciates your gift and is determined to hold it to his heart forever because he’ll never know if he’ll ever get a gift as beautiful as this ever again.

Jason buries himself into the blanket that you’ve made him the moment you gave it to him and he feels as though he’s in heaven and feels close to crying because of how loved he felt through this singular act.

He cherishes the blanket like his life depends on it as it’s now his item of comfort for when he’s dealing with night terrors. To Jason anything that related to you was more then enough to calm him down and bring him back to reality and away from his own mind for a little bit. This is only proven more true when he feels lonely he clings onto the blanket and remembers that you were there, you were with him still and he wasn’t alone anymore like he was before.

He didn’t want to be alone again and you were certain to make it know that he wasn’t, not under your watch.

If that didn’t make him tear up a little, the note you stitched onto the blanket certainly did the trick.

‘Dear jay bird, hope you like the blanket I made you! I didn’t want you to be without anything with sentimental value, so I made this blanket for you as a reminder that I love you, that I’m not going anywhere and that you’re not broken. You’re just a lonely man with a heart in need of healing and I’ll gladly heal and kiss your heart until it’s fully healed again. I’m right here if you need anything baby, love your little chipmunk.’

Jason held the blanket closer to his chest, kissing the fabric as he fell asleep tucked in it warmth and your love and hard work that went into making this for him. He feels happier, lighter then he had ever felt before and he didn’t ever want to let this feeling go at all as he grips the blanket tighter in his hands, pulling it up to his chin as he allows him held to be vulnerable underneath it.

He genuinely loves your gift to him and wouldn’t want anything else but something made purely by your hands and your hands alone.

[papaya-twinks]

box box! - l.n

Warnings: Swearing, ‘equal rights, equal fights’ joke

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: all the cute things you and Lando did on Boxing Day!

𝐼𝒸𝑒 𝒮𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔

“Oh god, Y/N,” Lando said, standing on the edge of the ice rink, his feet turned inward slights as he picked at his thumb, his eyes wide. “Lando, I promise it’ll be okay,” you said, doing a twirl on the ice as he stared at the ice, clearly anxious.

“Easy for you to say,” he protested, “you’ve done this a million times!”. You sighed, holding a hand out as he slipped his gloved hand into yours, taking a deep breath. “Exactly, so I can keep you upright and good,” you promised.

“I trust you Y/N,” he said, putting on a brave face for you as he glided onto the ice, his legs shaking as you led him into the rink, his breath coming out in puffs of white. “See? It’s so soothing, isn’t it?” you asked as he nodded, his eyes wide.

“See, you’re a natural,” you smiled approvingly as he let one hand go, his legs moving him slightly forwards. “Yeah,” he said proudly, “a natural…yeah I am,” he moved his other hand out, slowly gliding to you, as you steadied his arm.

“Y/N, did you see that?!” he asked, his eyes filled with childlike excitement, and god, you wished he could be happy like this all the time. “I did, I did,” you said, slowly spinning him round as he let his skates move with yours.

“You’re so good, Lando!” you said, eyes shining as he held onto you. “Look,” he said, doing a clumsy, slow spin on his own, his legs moving round in a circle as you giggled, watching him proudly. “Happy Boxing Day, baby,” you said, kissing his nose.

“Mhm,” he hummed into the kiss, “now race you round the rink,” he said, moving forwards to start skating round, only to stumble, clutching onto the side, “hey, go easy on me!” he called after you as you glided round easily.

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𝒞𝓇𝑜𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔

“So…this way?” Lando asked, turning one of the needles as you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, baby, I just said, this way,” you said, showing him how to do it as his brow creased, a frown on his perfect face.

“I don’t get it- you’re doing it too fast!” he groaned, catching your wrist in one hand and making you start again, your movements slow and obvious, showing him exactly what he needed to do to create the pattern he wanted.

Trust Lando to completely ignore your advice of doing something easy like a square instead of something hard like making a damn replica of his F1 helmet, and a life size one too! Trust this man to do stuff like this.

“C’mon, look,” you said, lifting his chin and taking the neon yellow wool (which had you ages to find) and showing him the same stitch again, your needle moving perfectly, the hook in your other hand as he watched.

“Baby, this stuff’s hard,” he said, his voice nearing a whine, “remind me to never ever complain when I say it takes you ages to make you stuff,” he said, looking over to the strawberry cow on the side of the shelf.

Crocheting had meant to be a little calming activity for you the day after the hectic mess of Christmas, until Lando had walked up to you with his huge doe eyes and begged you to let him try make something with the wool.

“Maybe crochet isn’t for you, yeah?” you smiled as he nodded, “what about we go do something else for you instead?” you asked as he nodded, stuffing his mouth with the Christmas cookies on the side, a pout on his face still.

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𝐿𝐸𝒢𝒪

You’d gotten Lando a bunch of presents for Christmas and vice versa, but the idea to get him an extra present for Boxing Day was one of the best you’d had, if you did say so yourself, especially seeming as it was the Lego McLaren.

Especially seeing Lando’s confusion melting into a gleeful grin as he saw another present waiting for him under your gorgeous Christmas tree, the excited look he gave you, and then the way he tore the wrapping paper off.

“Y/N!” he gasped as he saw the little Lego McLaren, the one with the mini figure and orange car, his eyes wide as he set it onto the coffee table, clambering onto the sofa beside you, opening the box as the packets fell out.

“Build it, c’mon,” you smiled, clutching your mug of hot cocoa as he put his own down, opening the packet with all the car pieces. You smiled, opening the other one with the mini figure parts, slowly building it into the character.

“Look, it’s you,” you showed him the little mini figure, even with his special helmet as he grinned. “They made me handsome,” he said, watching as you gave the mini figure a kiss. “C’mere,” he mumbled, letting you kiss the real him on the lips.

The rest of the building was filled with giggles and jokes, a pause between the building for a tickling session with you two, before resuming again, to end up with a proper built Lego McLaren with a mini Lando standing on the side.

“Put me in,” Lando said, sliding the character in, “there! A championship winner, that is,” he said proudly, patting the mini figure on its head as you giggled, kissing his cheek again. “Maybe you should be an engineer instead,” you smiled.

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𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅

“Only coz it’s Boxing Day,” Lando said, poking your side - you’d been giggling and snickering for ages since Lando had agreed to let you, after ages of whining and begging, for him to let you do his make up, and make him ‘all pretty’.

“Tickles,” Lando mumbled as you blended the foundation into his skin. You were glad he’d let you do a full face of makeup up rather than just simple things like a bit of mascara and some lip gloss, but he loved seeing you happy.

Your smile, with all its radiance, was one of the best things he had in his life, and if it meant looking like a bit of an ass with some make up on his face, he didn’t mind, he’d do anything for you anyways, whether he wanted to do it or not.

“You have such pretty skin, baby,” you hummed, the lights if your vanity reflecting on his skin, sending a gorgeous golden glow onto his face, his lips plump and pretty. “Yeah yeah shush,” he mumbled, cheeks tinged pink.

“Look at you,” you snickered, “all pink, don’t even need blush,”. He rolled his eyes, only to be tutted by you for opening his eyes whilst you were applying the mascara. “Damn baby, those lashes are something else,”.

“Yeah,” he smirked, eyes closed, “get on my level bitch,”. You snickered, punching his arm as you pushed the wand back into the tube, turning his chair to the mirror. “Thoughts?” you said as he looked over his face, a smile on yours.

“Quite good, actually,” he said, running a finger over his glossed lips. “Can your girl fight?” you joked as he kissed your cheek. “You get she can, and she’s damn gorgeous, so don’t even try it,” he teased, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

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𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓈

“But baby, we always watch the Grinch,” Lando grumbled, taking a handful of popcorn and eating some, his mouth stuffed full of stone salted goodness. “Exactly! It’s like a tradition,” you said, “our Boxing Day tradition,”.

“Can I cancel my subscription to that tradition? It’s so repetitive!” he said, his voice nearing a whine as you sighed. “Lando, what’s repetitive is your obsession with ‘Dexter’,” you said he mocked a gasp, hand on his chest.

“You take that back, that show is so good!” he said, flicking your cheek as you rolled your eyes. “Fine! Here’s a deal,” you said, “choose a movie that isn’t utter bullshit, and we can watch it, okay?” you said as Lando nodded firmly.

“Anything to get out of who-ville,” he muttered snarkily under his breath, flicking through his Netflix suggestions. “Christmas Chronicle?” he suggested, only to be met with your instant decline, a sigh on his lips.

“Picky little girl,” he said, looking to you, “this one,”. You looked up - The Muppet Christmas Carol. “Please? Pretty please?” he asked, fluttering his lashes (you didn’t even know he could do that) as you sighed, groaning.

“Fine! But we are so watching the Grinch next year,” you said as he nodded, his face beaming as he knew fully well he’d just bat his pretty lashes out of watching that film. “C’mere,” he said, pulling your grumpy form into his side.

“Love ya,” you know that,” he pressed a big warm kiss into your head as you huffed. “Yeah, you bet your ass you do,” you said sassily as he laughed, “having to put me through watching some puppets instead of a green guy…love you too though, you muppet,”.

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𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝒾𝓁𝓈

“Nice and neat,” you said, watching as Lando layered the baby blue colour onto your nails, his nose very nearly touching your palm from how close he was, the brush moving ever so slowly from your nail bed to the tip.

“Yeah, I’m staying in the lines,” he said, keeping the brush steady. “Oh shit,” he said, a little line skimming from away from your nail, and slightly onto your skin. “It’s fine, just wipe it off,” you said, watching as he grabbed a tissue.

“Y/N, why’s it not going even?” Lando frowned, staring at a little blob starting to form at your nail beds, sliding down thinner and thinner to the tops of your nails. “You’re putting too much on,” you said, examining the nail bed.

“If you put too much, it starts to gather at the bottom,” you explained as he blinked. “What do I do?” he asked, setting the bottle down. “Wait til it’s dry and we’ll file it,” you said, “but continue the other nails,”.

If you were honest, it felt good to have your nails pampered and taken care of the way Lando was doing it, your hands well massages form the moisturiser and creams he’d used to work the tension from your aching fingers.

“Like a professional, you are,” you said, as he blew on your fingers, the other hand already dry. “I wanna do a pattern,” he said, taking a bottle of white nail polish with a very thin brush. “Slow,” you reminded him as he took the brush out.

“Damn, Lando,” you said, looking at the bow he’d drawn on the top of your middle fingers, and the cute little French tip, “you should be a nail artist,” you said as he smiled proudly. “That’ll be one kiss and a cuddle,” he said, accepting your kiss gracefully.

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𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈

“Y/N,” Lando whined, resting his chin on your shoulder as you spooned roast potatoes onto his plate, “I want more potatoes,” he said, his voice demanding as you rolled your eyes, moving some onto his plate.

“Okay bossy,” you said, his hands massaging at the supple flesh of your hips and waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Just wanna enjoy my meal,” he said, the words more directed to you than the actual food on the plate.

“Thanks angel,” he mumbled, pressing a warm kiss to your neck, peppering your skin with little pecks, as he took both plates. “What a gentleman,” you said sarcastically. “I am a gentleman, don’t be so sarcastic,” he tutted.

“You watched me make those food plates and didn’t even offer to help!” you said as he flushed. “Yeah, well, you were doing fine on your own,” he protested. “Sexism, me thinks,” you smiled as he scoffed, hitting your arm.

“As if,” he said as you squeaked. “You can’t hit a woman!” you pushed his hand away. “Equal rights, equal rights, now eat up, pretty,” Lando teased you, kissing the spot he’d tapped, “need to be a beefy girl so you can fight me,”.

“You’re a little freak, Lando Norris,” you said, chewing on your turkey. “So are you, Y/N Norris,” Lando said, a smirk on his face as he watched your cheeks turn that gorgeous shade of red and pink that he loved.

“Got you blushin’, have i?” Lando snickered, nudging you as you rolled your eyes, flicking his arm. “Maybe that should be my Christmas present next year,” you said, pecking him softly as he smiled. “Maybe before,” he hummed.

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[phoebepheebsphibs]

Rise August: Secrets

Story included under cut!!!

Draxum was in his apartment sorting through a box of old potions and scrolls and loose mystical items left over from when his lab was destroyed for the third time, during the Shredder's invasion. He'd been putting this off for far too long. Amidst the chaos of his collection, there were medical files on his past experiments, DNA samples of the turtles, a couple ancient relics he'd managed to keep ahold of during the whole 'banished from the Hidden City' fiasco, and... a doll. Small, scorched, threads and yarn coming loose from where time had worn them out. It was a small item, inconsequential upon first glance. But it was possibly the most precious possession Draxum owned, if only because it was the last reminder he had of a former life. The doll, stitched and crocheted with care, resembled a miniature turtle. Draxum pressed the doll close to his chest as he'd done countless times before, holding it by his heart and silently praying to any god that would listen to him. And he sat, hoping his prayer would be answered, and a single message could be relayed to the spirit of the one who'd made the doll for him all those years ago.

He was so sorry.

It was then that his phone began to buzz, bringing him back to the present. He tried ignoring it, but the infuriating noise continued.

BZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZ.

He growled, admitting defeat in the battle of wills against the irritating little machine, and picked it up. Leonardo was calling. Had BEEN calling him repeatedly. Along with Michelangelo, who'd called a total of three times within the last minute and a half. Hmm, odd. Donatello had called once, too. What could they want? It wasn't a training evening, or one of those cumbersome 'family bonding nights'. But it must be important if they were willing to call SIX TIMES IN A ROW. He cautiously pressed the little green button.

"Baron Draxum speaking--"

"WERE YOU GOING TO TELL US THAT WE HAD SECRET SIBLINGS?! OR WERE WE JUST SUPPOSED TO LEARN THAT ON OUR OWN?!"

Draxum pulled his ear away, flinching at the noise. It was Leonardo, all right.

"What?" Draxum groaned, trying to combat the sudden deafness he just received in his left ear. "What is going on--"

"Dad just told us about our secret SISTER and secret BROTHER!" Leo yelled again. "Did you ever plan on bringing this up?! Where will the secrets END with our family?! Do you have ANYTHING TO SAY?!"

Draxum grumbled angrily.

"That conniving actor... I can't believe he..." How dare that former action star spill all his secrets without telling him he even KNEW those secrets! How did he find out?! "Put the rat on," he demanded. "I will discuss this breach of trust with him."

"I..." silence. "....I can't."

"Why not?" Draxum asked, noticing the sudden change in Leonardo's voice.

The mutant slider turtle took a good long while to answer. In the background, Draxum could make out the sounds of weeping and wailing. Michelangelo. He'd recognize the youngest's voice anywhere. Leo's breaths were shaky as he struggled to string together a sentence.

"...Draxum... Dad can't... he isn't...." a pause, a deep inhale. "He... he's dead," Leo whispered hoarsely. "He died half an hour ago."

Dead...?

Barry knew the rat was old and weak, and had been growing sick... but... And he'd told them. On his deathbed. He'd planned this, a dramatic reveal for the king of drama. One last spiteful incursion against the great Baron Draxum. He'd told the boys about their 'secret siblings'. How could he have known?? How did he ever find out? The how and why hardly mattered now. He'd told them. And... it was about time they knew.

"...I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Draxum stated before hanging up abruptly.

Baron Draxum spent the first five minutes just standing in the middle of the room. Thinking. Contemplating. This was going to be a very difficult conversation. For a multitude of reasons. Draxum spent the next five minutes gathering all the supplies he would need. Reports on the mutagen and ooze. Scans of the experiments. DNA samples, tests, any information on the two subjects he had left. Receipts of their existence. Proof.

The doll, the last remnant and possession of the most precious thing he'd ever lost.

And then Draxum spent the last five minutes rehearsing. Going over every little detail and thinking the history through. He could guess what they would say, what they'd ask, and how they'd react. There was no way he was ready for this.

His fifteen minutes were up. It was time to go.

Draxum stood stone still, arms full of documents, in the center of his apartment.

It was now twenty minutes. Draxum opened a magenta portal and stepped through.

The lair was darker than usual. And quiet. Usually there were string lights and neon signs illuminating the halls, but they'd been turned off. And there was always something playing in the background, a tune from the radio or a movie left on in the living room. But it was eerily silent, apart from the sound of people crying. Draxum followed the sounds of grief into the living room, Splinter's favourite space. It was dimly lit by candles, a scene of mourning like something from a film. Of course, that was how he'd want to go out. Dramatically.

The children were all surrounding his favourite armchair, Leonardo standing at a distance and tapping his foot impatiently as he stood guard over the room. Donatello was sitting in a corner, looking unsure of how to feel, or how to process what he was feeling. Michelangelo was sobbing in Raphael's lap, crying uncontrollably into his shoulder as the eldest rocked him back and forth, trying to comfort the youngest while also holding back his own tears in an attempt at false bravery. April O'Neil -- who was also here, among others -- had taken the initiative to drape a long white sheet over the body, out of respect.

Seeing this... seeing the outline of Splinter's body laying still... the scene became all too real all at once, and Draxum's planning and pre-prepared speeches were lost in the realization. His sons just lost the man they called 'father'. The person they loved most in life. And now, he was all they had left. And that terrified him.

"You're late," Leo growled, turning to look the sheep man in the eyes.

"Apologies," Draxum sighed. "I needed to prepare. Sit down, I'll try to explain it all."

Leo and April gathered the rest of the family into the kitchen, where Draxum began to pass out the papers and documentation.

"Okay, Draxum," Leo spat, sitting himself down at the table. "TALK. What did Dad mean by a secret sister and secret brother?"

Draxum inhaled deeply, readied himself, and began.

"You DO have a brother and sister. That is true."

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Mikey asked, voice wet and wobbly from crying. "Why didn't Splinter??"

"I can't say why the rat --" he paused, cleared his throat. They dead deserved more respect than that. "...Why Splinter didn't tell you beforehand. I didn't even know he knew. But I hadn't told you because I saw no reason to."

"No reason?!" Donatello gawked. "They're our secret family members!"

"Yeah, do you have ANY IDEA how many family members we have?!" Leo added. "Zero! And now we have two?! This is kind of a BIG DEAL, BARRY!"

"Technically, we always had two secret family members but --"

"Not the time for grammatical correction, Dee."

"Would you allow me to continue?" Draxum yelled over the argumentative boys.

The room fell silent.

"Thank you. The main reason I never told you was... because they are... dead."

Leo's hands, which had been folded together and holding his chin up, fell to his sides as his eyes widened.

"Dead? How?"

"It's a long story," Draxum began, taking one of the many sheets and passing it around the table. "When you were first mutated, I also mutated a fifth turtle, though she was contained in a separate tank. During the destruction of my lab, I managed to escape with her while your father escaped with you. Three years later, with my lab restored, I began my research again and decided to try mutating a sixth turtle."

"Our... brother?" Raph asked, pretending to read a sheet full of medical notes and toxicology readings he didn't understand at all.

"Yes," Draxum nodded. "Though, technically, he is your half-brother."

"How does that work?" Mikey asked.

"I didn't have any DNA remnants of Lou Jitsu left, so I had to find the next best warrior to use," Draxum explained, gesturing to himself. "So I used my own DNA for the recreated formula. I called the two turtles Venus De Milo and Machiavelli."

"But what happened to them?" Mikey asked nervously. "How did they..."

Draxum cleared his throat as he went over the old memories. Even after all these years, they still hurt.

"I was not in the good graces of the public. The Council of Heads disapproved of my illegal genetic experimentations, and as such my work was in danger. The two experiments were in danger. That was when Big Mama showed up."

"Of course she did!" Leo groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "That woman! Pizza supreme, I swear she preys on opportunity like... like a... like a creature that prowls or... something..."

"Do you mind if I go on?" Draxum growled. "As I was saying, she promised to help smooth things over with the council and the public eye if I let her take custody for one of the experiments."

"Why would she want that?" Donnie wondered as he looked over Venus' paperwork. "And why would you agree?

"She said that if she were to truly be in league with me, she'd need an equal share of the project. She argued that it would only solidify her standing with me and make us equal partners with equal footing. And an equal portion of responsibility and investment in the project. And I had no choice, I needed her sway with the community. She took Venus from me, and I never saw her again. Big Mama was only meant to keep her for three years, but when the time came she told me that Venus had died from complications due to the mutation."

"Was that true?" Raph asked.

"I don't know, I never found out. If it was false, Big Mama made her virtually invisible. I've no idea of what became of Venus. But after that, I became far more protective of Machiavelli. I trained him, schooled him, kept him safe from prying eyes. And as time went on, he became very important to me. I was invested in his wellbeing, and... and..."

Michelangelo perked up, seeing a familiar but rare side of Draxum show itself. A softened expression, a gentleness in his voice. A deep and harrowed regret.

"You... you loved him, didn't you?" the box shell turtle asked. "He became like a son to you, didn't he?"

Draxum nodded sadly.

"But I was a warmongering fool back then. Afraid and angry, I projected my frustrations out onto Machiavelli. I tried to mold him into a warrior, but he... he wasn't like that, he was kind and... you all would have liked him." Draxum smiled, turning to look at each of the boys. "He was creative, smart, loved playing games and making jokes... And despite my ignorance, he saw me as a father."

Leo glanced from a sheet containing science-y mumbo-jumbo back to the disgraced baron. He looked so old, so tired. In his hands, he clutched a secret and sacred doll. Leo's gaze rose from the hidden treasure back up to Draxum's face, which was clouded over with old grief.

"What happened to him, Barry?" Leo asked cautiously. "What happened to Machiavelli?"

Draxum squeezed the handmade doll. His brow furrowed, his jaw hardened. His voice was low as he forced the words out.

"...It was a few years ago. One night, we had an argument over training. I don't remember exactly what was said, only that we fought over his purpose. I was adamant that his destiny was to be a soldier, nothing more, and I said as much. I told him we'd discuss it further in the morning. But that night... the lab... there was an explosion, and... his bedroom was right beneath... he didn't make it out."

The room was silent. Draxum sat, twiddling his thumbs as he thought of his son's face. There were no pictures, no images, no drawings left to depict him. Only this doll, made in his image as a gift for his father. But he didn't need any reminders. He remembered him perfectly. He remembered it all.

"...How long ago was this?" Donatello asked.

"...Almost three years ago, by now," Draxum whispered.

"An explosion in your lab that occured over two years ago," Donnie repeated. "This... this wouldn't have happened to be during a stand-off between you and four mutant turtles, would it?"

Draxum stayed silent. He knew this was coming. Hence why he never brought it up. He felt every eye on him. He couldn't answer. Yet they needed one. He slowly nodded.

"...So it was... our fault?" Raph asked, voice low and hushed. "The lab explosion we caused... it was because of us he died?"

"No," Draxum assured them, finally looking up. "It was my fault. If I had not been so stubborn and had let go of my irrational hatred of the humans, none of that would have happened. I would never had created the oozesquitos, nor kidnapped the agent Mayhem, and none of the events that followed would have come about. It was not your fault. It was only mine."

Mikey stood up and rushed over to Draxum's side, wrapping his arms around him and crying into his robe.

"I'm sorry," Mikey whimpered. "I'm sorry that happened..."

"And I am sorry I did not tell you about your sister and half-brother sooner," Draxum sighed. "I wasn't sure how to bring it up. And... I was not ready to reopen old wounds."

"I guess it's okay," Leo grumbled, waving his hand at Draxum. "I'm glad you told us now, at least."

"It would have been cool to have more siblings, though," Raph smiled. "I wonder if I'd still be oldest..."

"According to these, 'Venus' was older than you," Donatello read aloud. "And Machiavelli was born three years after our mutation--"

"Wait, this means I have a younger brother?! I'm not the youngest??" Mikey exclaimed.

"You're still the youngest, Mikey," Donnie explained.

"Nuts."

"This might be a dumb question, but are you sure that they're dead?" Leo asked, scanning the sheets over again. "I mean, plot twists seem to be a running theme in our family. Could they still be alive?"

"It's possible that Venus might be alive," Draxum shrugged. "Big Mama is nothing if not a swindler and a liar."

"What about Machiavelli?" Mikey wondered. "Could he have made it out?"

"I don't see how," Draxum answered dejectedly. "I barely made it out alive. With no warning, and his room directly underneath... no. If he had survived, I would have found him by now. And... it's too late. Three years have weathered away any hope I had."

"You never know," Mikey offered. "I mean... it's possible, right?"

Baron Draxum knew this was a vain hope, one he didn't have the strength to allow any indulgence in.

"I do not wish to give myself false hope for what I know to be a fantasy," Draxum scolded. "But..."

But... he could hope, nonetheless. And perhaps one day, he really would see his son once more.

@sariphantom

(While I don't actually accept the whole Splinter's death from the anniversary comic as canon, I only accept it in this AU universe because it allows for Draxum to finally tell his kids about his other kids)

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 50!

another lovely round of fics for you all <3 full disclosure i did not double check this with my masterlist of recs so while i doubt it, it's possible that i've recced some of these before... i guess that could just be a sign that they're extra good lol.

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

75 best knitting puns that will have you hooked | iphigenias/@oatflatwhite | 4.1k | GA

Buck—Buck is knitting. Eddie blinks, rubs his eyes. Yeah, Buck is knitting: thick fingers a little clumsy as Bobby shows him how to purl stitch with a soft-looking ball of pink ombre wool.  softest most domestic little fic <3

all the lights are coming on | sharpbutsoft/@sharpbutsoft | 1.2k | GA

What good is having a key to your best friend’s house if you can’t use it to spread a little holiday magic? spreading the holiday magic <3<3 this was everything i needed and wanted and i love it so very much

any other bodily sense | kiwiibiird/@buckevanley | 10.2k | GA

Post-s2 sickfic. Buck is stuck with a broke leg and a bad cold. Maddie and Eddie help him out. forehead kisses and maddie and buddie and hurt/comfort... literally what else could a girl (me) need? the answer is nothing because this fic is everything!!

born with a weak heart | foxwatson/@eddiediazes | 7.5k | T

the one where eddie won't touch buck once he wakes up in the hospital, and buck goes absolutely bonkers bananas about it. is it truly a michelle rec list if there's no touch-starved fic on there? i don't think it is lol. i've reread this several times now and it's just the absolute loveliest <3

don't break | odysseus_calls | 2.4k | T

5 times the 118 is tired of Buck and Eddie acting like a couple, and the time they find out they've been dating the whole time. i LOVE hijinks and shenanigans <3 this captures them so perfectly!!

hooker | mansikka | 3.9k | T

When Eddie's life turns to hell, he turns to hooking. Crochet hooking. i've been attempting to crochet again (made a little cat today!) and it's only half because i want to be cool and crafty and half because people make it sound so cool and crafty in fics. anyway point is this was brilliant and so eddie and i loved it v v much!!

i sleep so i can see you ('cause i hate to wait so long) | turquoiseviolet/@turquoisevioiet | 25.7k | T

eddie’s not sleeping and buck’s worried. after all, he’s supposed to be the one who fixes everything, isn’t he? platonic cuddling! homoerotic friendship! getting together! if buddie fic had a bingo card, this would tick all of the boxes <3 so good!!

loves a game, wanna play? | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 57.5k | M

In the aftermath of Chris leaving for the summer, Buck convinces Eddie they should apply for Love Island together. okay so admittedly all my big plans to read my marked for later list this week failed miserably, cause this is the only fic from there that i actually read... on the other hand, what a brilliant one it is!! it's so funny and so good and i loved the social media elements in there. also, maya and maria <3

sub drop city, population: eddie diaz | peaktotheocean/@peaktotheocean | 4k | T

It takes Eddie longer than he cares to admit to realize that Buck has been giving him aftercare on the sly. i'm such a sucker for aftercare and this has SUCH a lovely buddie dynamic <3

swinging there, in the corner of our haven | anti_romantic_cherub | 1.6k | GA

Eddie bought Buck a hammock, and now he's reaping the rewards (Buck napping in his backyard). buck napping in eddie's backyard <3 such a lovely image and this is executed so so well, i love it!!

the city is a jungle and i'm a beast | putanauhere/@putanauhere | 42.8k | M

Eddie has enough on his plate this summer – a newly empty nest, a terrible new captain, and a new mustache – without adding a new werewolf to the mix. the most fascinating werewolf au <3 i love the buddie dynamic here and how they approach the werewolfism with such different attitudes. so good!!

toss up | saucerfulofsins/@saucerfulofsins | 3.5k | E

Eddie is caught browsing bad gay porn, and Buck takes it upon himself to show Eddie the good stuff. most glorious brilliant fic concept to ever fic <3 this is fantastic!!

trivial pursuit of love | niemi | 6.2k | T

Buck attends Tommy’s trivia night with Eddie, his newfound feelings for his best friend bottled up and ready to burst. As it turns out, he’s not the only one with a secret. buddie at trivia night!! i loved this fic so much, it was a real highlight on a rainy morning bus ride <3

weaving in our loose ends | PretentiousSwanQueen/@hotcinnamonsunset | 8.6k | T

Eddie is a knitter with the Loose Ends Project and he's assigned to finish the project of a loved one of Buck's. the gasp i let out when i realised what buck's project is... gorgeous fic!!

white sheets, you and me start to lay close | effervescentwolf/@effervescentwolf | 1.5k | T

He thinks of his empty bed at home, and his chest feels tight. It’s just that—it’s okay if it’s Buck. He can let Buck catch him. give me all the bed-sharing fics, please and thank you <3 this is one of the best uses of the trope i've seen in a long time, it's so lovely <3

[moopiter]

What Do You Get the Man Who Has Everything?

Homelander hates his birthday, fake pleasantries and gifts, but he loves his secret significant other. Homelander X GN Reader, 1.4K little drabble.

Ao3

---♡︎---

Cheers and applause ring out from the TV.

It’s Homelander’s birthday.

Even if it’s a day Vought handpicked for ultimate viewership, at the very least it’s still his day.

You’d watched the celebration cross-legged in front of the TV, taking in every detail of his expression. It was dark now, of course. Normally he would’ve snuck off to your apartment by now, but these were peak viewership hours. Your heart clenched, trying to will some semblance of happiness into him across the city, wishing you could tell him he wasn’t alone.

He knew you were watching. His little secret he kept hidden away, tucked inside an unsuspecting apartment in Manhattan.

He’d smile, wave, and say his little lines like the good poster boy he was. Well, until he could sneak away to his little slice of heaven and get away from it all.

You tied off the last bit of yarn in your nimble fingers. It was plush and soft.

The little stuffed eagle you’d been pouring your heart into momentarily blocked your line of sight of the TV as you held its delicate body in front of your eyes.

What do you get the man who has everything at his fingertips, and nothing at the same time?

Do you get him something one of his assistants could bring him in a second? Soap or cologne he’d only pretend to like? Another nonsensical book he wouldn’t really read? There wasn't any good options, nothing truly heartfelt. 

It took weeks to crochet, and learning how to do it was no easy feat.

“Thank you again, everyone, for the birthday wishes! But I want all of you to remember—you're the real heroes!”

Your eyes glanced behind the plush creature you’d made to the TV.

His eyes were sad even though he smiled so brightly.

He hated today; he always did. But it was attention, and he’d take it, even if it only rubbed salt farther into his wounds.

Never knowing his real birthday, and never getting to have a genuine, sincere celebration made it hard to put on a fake one.

It was his first one since he’d taken a liking to you, and you’d fix that. Looking back on all the stupid televised celebrations they'd put on for him for years, it made you sick thinking about how truly alone he must've felt all those years before you'd met him.

You sighed as you grabbed the doll needle, threading it with ease. It slid past the soft yarn like nothing and hooked through the little black eyes you’d picked out. You worked gingerly, love in each stitch.

The little crochet eagle came to life in your hands.

His charismatic voice brought the show back to the forefront of your mind. “-Goodnight everyone!” He fake smiled and waved as he finally walked off stage, but it quickly turned into a scowl just before the camera panned back to center.

Yep. That guy was totally fired.

You hugged the little eagle close to your chest as you stood, smiling quietly to yourself.

It fit inside the little box you’d picked out snuggly.

You set the package on the little table in front of the couch, turning to fluff the pillows and blankets you’d set out to make the night as comfortable as possible.

The program behind you switched to Cameron Coleman. Homelander’s birthday special was officially over.

You absentmindedly turn off the TV off with a click.

It took a lot to keep your fluttering heart under control. Butterflies.

He’d be home soon; his real home.

This wasn’t somewhere he had to be someone else. It took a long time to get it through to him, but he didn’t put the fake smile on for you anymore. He came to you vulnerable, jealous, angry. It didn't matter if he was soaked in blood or soaked from the rain, you’d always understand.

The unmistakable ruffle of his cape caught your attention. You looked up just as his red boots graced the concrete balcony on the other side of the glass.

He was smiling, but those blue eyes of his were still sad.

You hurried over to the door, you’d fix that.

The dull throb in his chest eased as he smiled back at you earnestly.

You smiled brightly as you flung the door open, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the little sanctuary you loved sharing with him. “Happy Birthday!”

The weight of the world left his shoulders as he crossed the threshold, letting you drag him along.

He always loved your forwardness about things.

You gave him understanding eyes as you led him over to the soft space you’d made for him. “How was it? Did you have fun today?”

“You know it’s not really for me.” He sighed as he gathered his cape to the side and sat down. It really wasn’t, none of it was.

You smiled, gently cupping his face for a moment to gaze into his eyes. “I know, I know.”  

The rest of the world would never see the suffering he hid so carefully. He’d shown his pain and loneliness to you alone, the only one who’d ever hold him like this. He loved attention, but the care and compassion you always showed him was beyond any of that. For you, he was a gentle giant, pliant in your hands.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your fingertips left his jaw, moving to grab the little gift from the table to lighten things up a little. “But I am! Aaaaaand-” You held the modest box out happily. “So is this!”

He smiled genuinely. You’d even lined the box with cheap sheets of zinc. Good thinking.

“Why are you so nervous?” He chuckled as he took the fragile thing in his hands, setting it in his lap.

Of course he could tell; he could read people better than they could read themselves.

You sighed as you sat down beside him. “I just really hope you like it.”

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be nervous! I’ll love it. And the zinc—now that was a good touch. I haven’t gotten a surprise gift like this since... well, that wasn’t exactly a gift."

His thoughts would go anywhere but where either of you wanted them to.

“Stop thinking! Open it!” You gestured to the box with a laugh, glancing back and forth between his expression and the box excitedly.

Your heart beating faster in anticipation was music to his ears.

He’d play nice and give you what you wanted. Besides, he wanted to know why on earth you could possibly be so nervous about something so trivial.

He lifted the little cardboard lid, the little box slipping out from underneath it and landing back down in his lap ceremoniously.

A little pair of black eyes stared back up at him.

Your little heart was pattering away like a rabbit as you waited for his reaction.

He scrunched his brows and smirked, gently pulling the little guy from the box and holding it awkwardly, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get this little guy?”

You shifted a bit, twiddling with your thumbs. “I made it for you.”

He paused for a moment, still holding it out in front of him.

“You—you made this?” He smiled, looking over the bundle of soft yarn and stuffing with a newfound appreciation as he looked over the loops of yarn.

You nodded happily.

His eyes weren’t so sad, but he still seemed wary. “You really made this just for me?”

You laughed as you nodded again. He always needed reassurance, but you were always ready to give. Your heart wasn’t hammering anymore, just beating sweetly as you looked at him with those caring eyes like always. “Just for you. Do you like it?”

He seemed so taken aback it was almost funny.

“Like it? I love it! I-I don’t even know what to say. This is… perfect.” He smiled as his eyes finally met yours. He’d never had a stuffed animal, let alone one so special. “Thank you.”

You smiled ear to ear as you practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I’m so happy you love it so much!”

He laughed lightheartedly. “This is the best gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

You laughed sweetly, snuggling against him just a little tighter.

He leaned back, pulling you against him with one arm and holding the little stuffed eagle protectively in the other, matching your genuine smile as you both relaxed into the couch.

“I’ll cherish it forever. Just like you.”

[slippinninque]

🎄A Small Exchange 🎁

Terry Richmond x blackfemreader

In which Terry hopes for the best

Warnings: Fluff!! Self indulgent fic, soft!Terry, may need some edits

It’s been a nearly half a year since Terry has joined this club and he’s never been as unprepared to face you as he was now. This went beyond tangled yarn and nonsensical stitch counts...

The gift bag hung from his fingers. Pretty and heavy and decorated with a festive scene staring field mice having a lovely dinner. Aside from the main attraction that he made with his own two hands–Terry threw in a few other festive trinkets. Christmas socks, a candle, a box of chocolates is as far as he got before his cousin took a away his shopping basket.

Across the small room he watched you help a youngster with their tangled hook. You had little wreaths as earrings, antlers, and a painted nose that went perfectly with your chunky knit sweater and fleece leggings. Dressed perfectly for both the low temperatures and incoming holiday–Terry was nearly on his knees from every adorable jingle-jangle that came from you.

All too soon it was his turn. Facing your encouraging smile as he waved him closer, wondering aloud who the lucky person was before the bag was nearly shoved into your hands. Terry stood at attention and two near by regular attendees crowded close as well.

The blanket was made to Terry’s size. He wanted to be sure that you remained warm. This made the blanket queen-sized–he realized the scale when you unfurled it and oop-ed at the plop of fabric onto the carpeted floor.

The others in their circle ooh-ed and Oh, Terry!-ed when you held up the blanket he’s spent the last two months crocheting just for you. Terry’s hands locked tighter before him as he felt his face heat up at the praise.

It was just like the picture you shared to the group nearly half a year ago. More or less. A soft, blushy middle circle fading into a solid, square frames. Instead of the light blues and pinks, Terry went with a soft purples of varying shades that he imagined would be beautiful against your skin. 

Terry realized that you were staring at him now, mouth agape. 

“Erm, I may have been a bit heavy handed with the increases…” he cleared his throat and you snickered, coming out of your speechlessness.

“I–Terry–this…”

He took a step towards you but turned to the rest of the crochet circle you lead. Eyes, bespectacled and otherwise, moved away as enthusiastic gift exchanging continued around the both of you. You looked at him and laughed again, embarrassed. Gathering the blanket back, you nodded towards two chairs and a small popup table pulled a little bit away from the group’s main spot.

Terry exhaled deliberately through his nose then followed. Terry laid his life on his iron sights more than once but never had he felt the energy coursing through him now. Wanting your approval, torn between not wanting to get his hopes too high but craving your thoughts on his work. 

Ever since you made him pay for not moving from a reserved seat for one of your students, you shoved a hook in his hand and dared him to put it down. Literally.

“I mean, unless you want to be the scary-frown man to the incoming grannies?” 

He realized how childish he was being by refusing to move from the seat, but he was too deep in enjoying your wit. Dry as ice can be when annoyed, warm as smiling cheeks when happy. It’s what kept him coming back to your Crochet Club every chance he got, until he had a lopsided scarf all of his own.

It was then time for another project and once the idea for a gift for you appeared–Terry couldn’t shake it. 

“I can’t believe you did this…I am…'thank you’ isn’t enough.” You said to him, placing the fluffy monstrosity onto the table, “It’s going directly to my bed when I get home.”

“It’s only a compliment to your teaching.”

“Oh no, this is something about that stubbornness of yours–” You trailed off and your eyes squinted at him. Terry returned the squint, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“...Were you pretending to be that bad in the beginning or were you playing with me this whole time?”

“What would you say? Do I seem the type to play helpless?” 

“Okay Mr. Ergomatic grip. You know no one else in the group uses one–

“Yes. I kno–

“Not even  Ms. Sheila…”

Terry rose a brow at you and put a hand warningly onto the blanket, face cool but his eyes crinkled at the corners. Undeterred by his impressive poker face, you held onto the plush corners and pleaded for his forgiveness.

“No, no! Okay, I’m sorry–your old-man hook is the coolest, I swear!”

“Mhm. I don’t think I believe you.” 

“Wait, here–maybe this can buy me back my Christmas miracle…”

Terry rose a brow as he watched you crouch down to grab a polar bear printed bag from beneath the table. You cleared your throat a bit, glancing over your shoulder a bit before offering it to him with two hands.

He…honestly wasn’t expecting you to have a gift for him. The group exchanged gifts at different points of the month and he's seen you give out something to just about everyone that you could catch attending.

Money being funny, deals being too good to pass up, or even a novelty item that reminded you of your favorite weirdo. It’s led to Terry getting an assortment of things from the others that leaves warmth in his chest when glances one in his home.

Terry barely looked into the bag stuffed with tissue paper before diving in, pulling out a luxurious cardigan. Dark olive and made of what Terry would guess is cashmere, he was at a loss for words when he held it to the light. Were the stitches sparkling? Or was that just his excitement?

As you went on about how it was cashmere and it took a lot of guessing of his size, Terry only wanted one thing…

He shrugged out of the jacket he still wore. Down to only a long sleeve, the cardigan settled on his form nicely. Terry didn’t feel himself smiling as he smoothed down the length of the cardigan, then held out his arms to note the sleeves ended right here he preferred. Rising his arms next, Terry could not feel a draft as he normally would have if wearing the standard fit.

Your voice was shy as you asked, “How’s it feeling?” 

“It fits perfectly.” Terry had to stop himself from rubbing along the sides of the cardigan, only to discover–

“It has pockets!” He looked down in surprise as his hands slipped into the squares and you laughed, delighted as you confirmed that it indeed had pockets. 

Now it was Terry’s turn to be speechless. He could picture your hook flying through the yarn, your glasses perched low on your nose as you either listened to a friend or podcast. Hundreds and hundreds of stitches done by you personally, all because you had Terry in mind. 

He was sure that, at some point, you both probably had a spool of yarn in your laps as you thought about each other. Terry knew he had you in mind with every step--all the way to hoping and praying the yarn wouldn't be too stressed up against his callouses.

He wondered what you were thinking of when sewing those pockets at the perfect height to meet his hands.

The two of you watched each other now, touched but unable to find the words. It was a sweet tension that Terry has never felt before and from the way you’re looking at him–Terry wanted to know what you were thinking. Surrounded by the sounds of merriment of the others and the Christmas music playing, it made him feel bold.

“Not sure what you have planned after this,” Terry said, “But I…was considering Ms.Sheila’s suggestion on seeing the Christmas lights on 3rd avenue."

“There’s a pretty spot there that’s 24/7 that does breakfast-for-dinner like no other.”

“Hm. Sounds just fine to me.”

The smile on your space begged to be kissed but Terry settled for reaching out and tweaking an antler, it's bright ringing matching the twinkle in your eyes.

You startled at remembering the rest of the world when the playlist went from a slow and jazzy to a startling pop rendition of O, Holy Nights. Terry smiled to himself as he watched you hurry over to the group that has loosely started twisting yarn without the two of you, the knowing glances and cheeky grins following after your flustered motions. 

Terry looked down at the gift in his hands and with the thought of what was to come–he entered the circle after you.

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

⭐ending notes:⭐ it was a bit hard to feel festive this year, so sorry for being MIA for a bit! 🥹Here is my first Terry Richmond fic as a gift that I hope you all enjoy! I couldnt get the image of this big beautiful menace with yarn and a hook in his hands 🤣 please comment and reblog! Would y'all like more about him from me?

💕taglist💕: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings

@thickeeparker @mcondance @blowmymbackout

(I'm sorry, Im not exactly sure who to list 🫣)

[purpurkatart]

Hello! After having some time to get over my loss for the Pokemon TCG Illustration contest, I decided to write up a small blog entry about the process and include some WIP pictures. Feel free to look below if you want to read my ramblings on the process.

Idea Generarion-

So coming into this contest, I knew I wanted to make a mixed media piece. In terms of theming I chose something that not only reflected a “magical moment” for a Pokemon (in this case meeting a legendary Pokemon), but also a moment when playing the games myself. In fact this piece was inspired by my awe when I first encountered a box legendary in game, as before I thought my teacher was lying to me when he said you can catch the legendary on the box!

This is the concept sketch that started it all! At the time my main concern was getting ideas down and seeing how they looked. Thinking about things like how would the composition would look, how would the colours look. So on and so forth.

I didn’t want to focus too much on the sketch and wanted to start making the physical object, so out of some cheap paper I started making a set up testing out size, scale, composition. I didn’t want to get too attached to the original sketches only to realise I couldn’t make it in real life… I went though a few drafts trying to get things right, slowly adding in aspects such as background objects and higher quality drawings.

After completing the draft I bought the images back into procreate to experiment with colours. This is the point where I made the mistake of thinking I had plenty of colours to choose from, not realising I would be limited by what I could buy from various yarn shops. That or hope I could find the right colour online, but that was always a gamble. If I don’t stop talking about this now I’ll get sidetracked talking about how much I miss yarn shops…

Anyways, I cut out the individual pieces that I would make within the background and used them as a guide for crochet assets. For this part I wanted to use different stitches to create textures such as the ripple stitch, bobble stich and some cable stitches, I feel bad as I never took any work in progress photo so of them. Let’s pretend you’re looking at a photo of a half finished crochet abstract shape.

Finally onto the main event, the Pikachu (and Suicune). The decision to make Pikachu a plush was based on what I would have liked to make for the 2022 illustration contest (if I wasn’t geographically challenged!!) Despite being British I decided it would be fun to make anyways, so I could experiment. I never got around to that but decided it would be fun to try for this edition.

Making the pattern was HARD! As I wanted Pikachu to have a unique pose, I had to work out different methods to plush i’ve made in the past which have been somewhat relaxed in their posing. I ultimately ended up making each part individually, pinning it together and then making adjustments as needed. It didn’t start out great however I ended up with this weird Pikachu shaped thing that did the job. Throughout this process I would regularly photograph it in the background to try and catch any issues early on. For example if the ground needed to be a different shape.

Photographing the final price was interesting. I felt bad for my partner as I essentially turned my dining table into a mini photography studio! I spent several days waiting for different lighting opportunities and experimenting with different light. Marking down different camera angles to ensure I have all of my bases covered. I easily took over 100 photos to get the perfect shot! In the below photo you can see washi tape being used to rest out different positions for the sculptures.

And that leads me to the peice! Even though i’m sad I didn’t make the top 300, I am pleased with the work I did for this piece (and my flygon entry too!). I’m glad I decided to experiment with ts peice and look forward to refining my methods in the near future!

[crochetcraftscraps]

[purplerabbite]

i know capitalism is trying to suck every last bit of money out of every last one of us and that war/civil unrest is happening everywere all the time every second of every day but you know what else.

im gonna cook and paint and maybe finish my verson of a stitched quilt blanket thing i saw at target for too much money that i liked the texture but hatted that it was like 100+ dollars for a white comforter with black stitching all down it.

i made the same one out of 2 cotton sheets my grandma had and i got rainbow thread its 1/4 of the way done and everything is over priced and on fire but i got that beautifulthread from an estate sale that had ended and the queer man that ran it said he couldnt sell the old womans yarn and that i could have this ( 1) rainbow ream of thick thread if i would take all 6 boxes of yarn that that woman probaly had collected for years.

i gave the yarn to my mom and told her a nice man gave it to me and she said he probaly didnt want to see sit in his shop for ever and she was glad the womans collection would get used. im sure that woman would be happy to know even though shes gone theres kids that have hats for winter now. old people got blankets and my mom can crochet for free so she didnt mind one bit giving away nearly everything she made.

nothing is free and everything cost money and people die and are selfish.

sometime tho it isnt ture and people arent and even if bad things happen I have a blanket and a hat. those things dont matter but what i feel about them does and no one can take that away from me.