#cross stitching newbie

[lilaco21]

Sooooo... I made a thing!

I'm honestly proud of myself! It had taken me about 8 months and another month to get the courage to learn how to wash and iron it!

I've learnt so much whilst doing this one! Mainly:

1. Patience is worth it

2. Do not grid your aida with embroidery floss, it does not pull out smoothly

3. How to both wash and iron a cross stitch piece (something that I didn't need to do for my first ones)

4. It's so nice to do something calming with your hands

5. Take a step back and admire your progress every once in a while

[ramenheim]

Doodled some rough needlework designs while watching Spirited Away w/my brother. Have only ever done pre-made pattern kits so wish me luck manifesting this!! :0

[scary-grace]

Off-Script - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

This is my second fic for @threadbaresweater's follower milestone event, with the prompt 'summer blockbuster'! As usual, thank you for running this event and congratulations on the milestone!

Act 1 Act 2 Act 3 Act 4

Act 1

“No.”

“No?” Midoriya Izuku repeats. He taps his headset, like there’s something wrong with it instead of what Dabi just said. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t do swordfighting,” Dabi says. “It’s in my contract.”

Midoriya looks baffled, just like every newbie director who’s ever hit their head against one of the batshit provisions in Dabi’s contracts. And Dabi’s not anywhere close to done with kicking the director around. “How come I’ve got a sword, anyway? Quicksilver didn’t have one in any of the other movies. Or the comics.”

In Tomura’s opinion, Dabi should keep his mouth shut about what happens in the X-Men comics. Everything he knows about the comics and the character he plays is something Tomura had to explain to him way too many times, in detail. “We’re rebooting the Apocalypse arc,” Midoriya says. “The premise is that Apocalypse rises in every age – long enough for people to forget about him in between – and the same characters have been fighting him the whole time, reincarnated over and over again. Only this time it’s different, because four of those characters have been chosen as Horsemen, and they’re fighting for Apocalypse, not against him.”

“Great. Why is there a swordfight?”

“In the original arc, technology provided a boost to the anti-Apocalypse forces,” Midoriya says. “By setting it in the Iron Age, we’re taking that advantage away. That’s why everyone has weapons. Including Quicksilver.”

“Cool.” Dabi lights up a cigarette. “I’m still not doing it.”

“But –”

“That’s what I pay him for.” Dabi jerks a thumb at Tomura. “Talk to him.”

Tomura’s been Dabi’s stunt double for basically all of Dabi’s career. Most stunt doubles stick to stunts, but over the years, Tomura’s role has expanded from stunts to include anything Dabi doesn’t feel like doing. Swordfighting isn’t a stunt. It should be well within Dabi’s skills. And it is – he just doesn’t want to do it. Which means that Tomura’s up.

Midoriya looks at Tomura hopefully. Tomura levers himself up off the wall and rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Midoriya follows him to costume and makeup, yapping the whole way, trying to figure out what he did to upset Dabi so much. Tomura thinks about explaining that it’s not Midoriya’s problem and Dabi’s just like that, then decides against it. Midoriya’s the one who decided not to recast Quicksilver, and Dabi isn’t exactly known for being easy to work with. He made his own bed. Tomura’s not here to tuck him in, and he’s not here to make excuses for Dabi. He’s here to do stunts. That’s it.

Quicksilver’s costume isn’t skintight, which makes it miles better than any of the other Quicksilver suits Tomura’s had to wear since Dabi was first cast in the franchise. It’s his first time in the outfit, so he asks the costumer about it. “There was no Lycra in the Iron Age,” Magne explains as she stitches one last panel into place. “The director wanted historically accurate materials. And the SFX team threatened to quit if they had to edit any more bulges out of the shots.”

That’s a relief. Whenever a new movie in the franchise comes out, the fan blogs make lists ranking all the bulges, which is awkward at best and career-threatening at worst, given the one time a list used a shot where Tomura was doubling Dabi and ranked it higher than Dabi had ever placed on his own. Midoriya is deeply weird, even as far as directors go, but Tomura will take the wins where he can get them.

He tunes back in to what Midoriya’s saying as Magne screws around with his hair to mimic Quicksilver’s signature look. “Who am I fighting again?”

“Psylocke. You read the script, right?”

Sure, Tomura read the script. The script isn’t the problem so much as the fact that the actress playing Psylocke quit last week. “Did you find a new one?”

“Of course!” Midoriya brightens up creepily fast. “Right, you should meet her! She’s – um –”

“Up at the site already,” Magne says, spraying Tomura with hairspray without warning him first. “She was pretty quick to costume. I didn’t even have to put her in a wig.”

Midoriya beams. “She’s great,” he says. “We’re lucky we found her on such short notice.”

“Who is she?”

Midoriya says a name Tomura’s never heard in his life. Magne hasn’t heard it, either. “Come again?”

“She’s on the newer side,” Midoriya says. His smile’s looking a little insane. “Are you ready yet?”

“Just a sec.” Magne sprays Tomura again, then attaches three motion-capture dots to his forehead. “There we go. All set.”

Tomura stands up, but he doesn’t get clear fast enough to avoid Magne’s customary ass-slap. “Break a leg,” she says.

“Thanks.” Tomura slinks out of the costume tent, already in a mood.

They drive to the site in one of the various beat-to-shit Jeeps Midoriya inherited from the person who directed the last X-Men movie. Midoriya drives, which is bad all on its own, but halfway there, Tomura realizes there’s someone missing. “Don’t we need Aizawa on this?”

“Aizawa’s choreographing the first big fight scene. Most of the actors haven’t done real swordfighting before, so it’s taking a while.” Midoriya’s grip on the steering wheel goes white-knuckled in a way that makes Tomura wonder if he should be bailing out of the car. He’s pretty sure he can do it without getting a single bruise. “Even if it’s just for a few tracking shots before we cut away to you – sorry, Dabi – chasing Psylocke, it needs to look good.”

That’s fair. Tomura hates a lazy background shot, on the rare occasions when he watches a movie. Midoriya glances at him. “I know you said you read the script, but – give me your take on what’s going on in the scene.”

Tomura’s heard Midoriya ask people that before. Correction: He’s heard him ask actors before. “I’m not an actor.”

“There’s not a ton of dialogue in this scene. The physical aspect has to tell the story,” Midoriya says. “So?”

He’s not going to let this go. Tomura decides to get it over with. “During the main fight, Psylocke lifts the artifact everybody’s fighting over and runs. Quicksilver goes to catch her, but she uses her mutation to slow down time around him, which puts him on the same playing field as she is. They fight, he pulls her mask off, and figures out she used to be on his side. Then she cheap-shots him and escapes with half the artifact. Did I get it?”

Midoriya nods, but he’s frowning. “Quicksilver and Psylocke are foil characters in this interpretation of the story. He’s Magneto’s son and she’s part of a family of heroes. When they recognize each other, it should be a shock – they’re not just seeing a friend who’s now an enemy, they’re each seeing the person they should have been. So the back half of the fight should, like, reflect that.”

Tomura doesn’t do emotional turmoil. “You want Dabi for this.”

“That was the plan,” Midoriya says. He sighs. “Just – do your best, okay?”

Tomura was doing high-wire stunts while Midoriya was still in high school. He doesn’t need hyping up for a swordfight he can do in his sleep. But just because he can do it in his sleep doesn’t mean the actress Midoriya pulled out of a cattle call will be any good at it. “Does Psylocke 2.0 know what she’s doing?”

“That’s why I picked her.”

Huh. Tomura crosses his arms over his chest and slouches in his seat for the remainder of the ride.

The site is up on a bluff, in a stretch of forest thick enough that barely any sunlight gets through. “This is supposed to be a nighttime scene, but thanks to the tree cover we can fake it,” Midoriya explains as he parks the Jeep and scrambles out. “Hey, guys! Over here!”

The crew looks like they’ve been waiting a while. Tomura knows most of them after spending the last seven years on the sets of various X-Men movies and hanging out at C-list afterparties. Of the group, he really only gets along with Spinner, who handles props. Everybody else is just someone else to be irritated with when they inevitably start bossing Tomura around. He props his feet on the dashboard and waits for something to happen.

“Psylocke! Quicksilver! Over here!”

Midoriya’s beckoning to him. Tomura forgot about Midoriya’s habit of using character names during shoots, and he thought Dabi was just using it as something to bitch about until right now. It’s annoying as hell. Tomura gets out of the car and skulks over, but someone else gets there first. Midoriya’s talking to her as Tomura approaches. “I know the script says you’re shooting with Dabi, but he, um, doesn’t do swordfights, so he sent his stunt double instead.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not you,” Midoriya says hurriedly. “He’s just having an off day.”

“An off year,” Tomura corrects. Midoriya jumps, steps aside, and gives Tomura his first look at you.

He sees right away what Magne meant about your hair – you match Psylocke’s design from the comments in length and color, even if the texture’s wrong. You’re a little shorter than the original actress, and you don’t look like an actress, even though the makeup artists already got to you. Actresses in big-budget films look a lot like each other, because they’re all wearing the same makeup and getting the same plastic surgeries, and they’re all the same kind of hot. You look way too much like a person. Like you should be behind the camera, not in front of it.

As Tomura sizes you up, he’s well aware that you’re doing the same thing to him, probably having the same thoughts. But you smile and hold out your hand to shake. “Hi. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Tomura shakes your hand for lack of anything better to do. “Go see Spinner for props,” Midoriya instructs, “and think about how you want to do this. Maybe get in character also? I’m not sure how many takes we’ll get before the light changes.”

“Got it,” you say. “Spinner is –”

“The guy with the swords,” Tomura says. It’s hard not to roll his eyes, and it gets harder when you fall into step beside him. Spinner is waiting for you both behind the props table. “Hey.”

“I was expecting Dabi,” Spinner says, picking up a sword. When Tomura reaches for it, Spinner chucks it to one side and lifts another. “I was gonna give him that one, but you’re better than he is, so I can trust you with this.”

Instead of the kodachi, he’s holding out a tachi to Tomura. “See how you like the balance on that. And for you, Psylocke – one katana, coming right up.”

Tomura keeps one eye on you and your sword while he’s testing the balance on his. You’re not being stupid with it, at least not yet. Holding it properly is the lowest possible bar, but Tomura’s met plenty of actors who can’t even manage that, and at least your grip looks solid. You walk a few steps away to practice sheathing and unsheathing it, and Spinner elbows Tomura. He nods in your direction. “What do you think?”

“What rock did Midoriya find her under?”

“I think she’s a stage actor,” Spinners says. Great. “Mainly musicals. She’s never gotten cast as anything bigger than an understudy.”

Tomura would facepalm, except he’s holding a sword. “Still,” Spinner says speculatively, “the director’s not a total moron. He must have seen something he likes.”

“Yeah. He likes not having to blow the costume budget on a wig,” Tomura says, probably a little too loudly. He sees your shoulders stiffen, and you turn to face him. You don’t look like you’re going to cry or anything, but Tomura’s been wrong about that before. “What?”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to practice, or if we’re doing it blind,” you say. Before Tomura can answer, you make the decision. “I say blind. It’ll look more authentic if we’ve never fought each other before.”

Tomura likes that idea, if only because the chaos will mask his total lack of acting skills, but he was counting on a practice round to test your actual abilities. Still, it’s your funeral. “Fine by me. I’m not going to go easy on you or anything.”

“I’m glad,” you say, and smile. Tomura already saw you smile once, but it was nowhere close to being this spooky. You have to be doing it on purpose. “I wasn’t planning to go easy on you, either.”

Tomura should say something – maybe along the lines of ‘we just got off on the wrong foot, don’t cut my fucking head off’ – but before he can, Midoriya orders everyone to places. He must have given you instructions ahead of time, because you vanish into the trees, leaving Tomura to follow Midoriya’s hyperspecific directions for hitting his first mark. “We’re just going to roll,” he says, as Tomura steps out of frame and braces himself to run. “I’ll call cut once things go sideways.”

Things go sideways in choreographed fight scenes all the time. Things going sideways in an improvised fight is a guarantee. “Right.”

“Psylocke, are you set?”

“Set,” you call out from somewhere.

Midoriya takes a deep breath, like he’s the one who’s about to start a fake fight. “Okay. Action!”

Fake-running and skidding to a stop isn’t Tomura’s specialty or anything, but he can make it work. He hits the mark Midoriya specified, raises his hand to the hilt of his sword without drawing it, and takes a look around. Right here and now, there’s no reason for Quicksilver to think that someone’s about to attack him. Even Psylocke using her powers to slow him down could just be a tactic to ensure her escape. She’s basically already escaped. All Quicksilver has to do is wait for her grip on time to slacken, and then –

A twig snaps behind Tomura and he throws himself forward into a roll, pivoting as he gets to his knees and drawing his sword in the same moment. You put a lot of strength and a lot of momentum into your first strike, and if this was a real fight, Tomura would be injured or dead. As it is, you checked yourself at the last second, and you take your time settling into your next attack, giving Tomura just a second or two to plan out his own.

No attack yet. His wingspan is wider than yours and the blade of his sword is longer, which means the first step for Quicksilver to avoid a katana through the neck is to get out of Psylocke’s range. You’re not screwing around, so Tomura won’t, either – he picks up a handful of leaf litter, throws it into your face, and gets to a safe distance, remembering at the last second to make it look even sort of stylized. It’s a movie, after all.

You’re taking it seriously. The suddenness of your first attack has Tomura on edge, and the lack of any direction or choreography means he’s got no idea what you’re going to do. They won’t be in the back half of the fight until he pulls your mask down, and haphazard grabs look stupid on camera. He needs to get your mask on the first try, and between now and then, he needs to put on a show.

Tomura strikes at you, and you duck, pivot, halfway inside his guard before he can reverse the strike. But you’re in too close to use your katana effectively – on purpose – and Tomura aims a punch at your torso, hoping you know how to fake a hit. You do. You exhale sharply, jerk backwards, and Tomura separates from you again.

Who the hell are you? Where did you come from? Why are you going this hard? It occurs to Tomura as he parries your counterstrike and returns a few of his own that these are the same thoughts Quicksilver would be having if any of this was real. Now that Tomura’s introduced hand-to-hand combat into the equation, you start using it, too, throwing a high kick that brushes ever so slightly against Tomura’s jaw. Tomura snaps his head sideways to make it look good, then lurches backwards in response to a fake punch to the solar plexus. He’s holding his own, and he’s in control of the fight, but to the camera and everybody else it’s going to look like Psylocke is handing Quicksilver his ass.

And you should be. Tomura underestimated you, then insulted you, and now you’re making him pay. But as interesting as the fight’s getting, it’s a movie, not a grudge match. Tomura shortens his attacks and you step in closer, close enough for him to grab your mask. Or it would be, if your face was where it’s supposed to be. Instead you’ve gotten all the way inside Tomura’s guard, stepped across him, and grabbed his shoulder with your free hand – and now you’re throwing him over your hip to the ground.

You’ve got the physical strength to pull it off – Tomura can feel it – but he gives you some help anyway, making the resulting fall look even harder than it’s supposed to. He lands flat on his back with you poised above him, pinning him down with your katana at the ready. Now would be a great time to grab the artifact, since it’s hanging on a loop around your neck, but Tomura’s got his orders, as stupid as they are. He reaches up, seizes the mask over your mouth and nose, and pulls it down.

You really can act. Tomura watches your expression shift from startled to shocked to something else, and you recoil backwards away from him. Tomura’s slow to rise, because Quicksilver’s supposed to be shocked, too. Dabi’s going to have to deal with whatever character choices Tomura’s making here, and he’s going to be pissed. Tomura doesn’t care. If Dabi wanted to have a say over what this fight looks like, he should have done it himself.

You’re pulling your mask over your face, pressing it down. You’re so busy with it that Tomura almost gets away clean with grabbing the artifact from around your neck. You catch him at the last minute and pull it back, and it splits cleanly between his hand and yours. You take one artfully reckless swing with your katana and Tomura ducks back just a little farther than he needs to. Which is when you turn and run, booking it out of frame and towards the far edge of the woods.

Some camera guy – Iida, Tomura thinks – chases after you. Tomura’s off the hook, but he holds still anyway. He’s gotten yelled at more than a few times for moving before the director’s officially called cut. But Midoriya isn’t calling cut. He keeps not calling it. Tomura can hear him, though. He’s muttering to himself.

“Hey, boss-man!” hollers the unit director – Togata, or something. “Want to call a cut?”

“Oh, oops! Cut! Definitely cut.” Midoriya sounds like he couldn’t give less of a shit. When Tomura turns to look at him, he’s got a notebook and he’s writing furiously. And mumbling again. Tomura’s worked with a lot of directors and more than a few weird ones, and once he rules out the hand fetishist and the guy who wanted the fight scenes to include real knives and real blood, Midoriya’s definitely the weirdest.

You come back from wherever you ran off to, and you don’t seem to think Midoriya’s as weird as everyone else does. “Are we waiting for notes?”

“Huh?”

“After we run a scene in a stage show, we get notes,” you say. You’re not quite breathing hard. Neither is Tomura. “Do you not do that around here?”

“Nah,” Togata or whoever says. “Usually the director just hollers at whoever screws up and makes everybody do another take.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Who screwed up? Was it me?”

“You certainly took some liberties with the scene,” Iida says. “The original intent –”

“You want original intent, don’t tell us to improv,” Tomura says. The fight with you was maybe the most intense fight scene he’s ever done. When Midoriya inevitably nixes it, Tomura wants a copy. He addresses you. “It wasn’t you. Somebody on the sound side probably fucked up.”

“Excuse me?” The sound tech – maybe Jiro? – looks like she wants to club Tomura to death with a boom mic. “I fucked up? If you two hadn’t gotten all –”

“Midoriya,” Togata sings out, patting Midoriya on the shoulder. Midoriya jumps. “Hey! Good to have you back! Should we get set for another take?”

“No.”

Mirio looks confused. He’s not the only one. “Are we taking this one back to the drawing board?”

“No.” Midoriya shuts his notebook and looks up, his eyes shining in the crazy way movie people get when they have a really wild idea. “That was the take. We’re done.”

“What?”

“That was it.” Midoriya’s grinning. “It was perfect.”

Now you look weirded out. Finally. “No notes?”

“We need some close-ups, but –” Midoriya grabs his radio and hollers for somebody to put Dabi in his costume “ – you guys did a great job. Like, even the timing – it’s going to be so easy to use those beats for close-ups, and all the character stuff – you were so in sync it was scary, but emotionally you were each totally on your own journey, and it looked –”

“Hey, take a breath. Don’t faint,” Jiro instructs. Midoriya sucks down some air, and Jiro turns to you. “You did your first fight scene in one take. Congrats.”

Spinner lifts the sword out of Tomura’s hand, then takes the two halves of the artifact from both of you. Tomura’s done here for now. He’ll hitch a ride back on the Jeep that brings Dabi up and find a place to nap. Hopefully. He feels a little too keyed up to take a break right now.

You’re still standing there, looking sort of dazed. It annoys Tomura for a second, until he remembers that you’re used to understudying in musicals, not shooting superhero movies. “Hey,” he says, and you startle. “That was a solid fight. You’re better than I thought.”

“That’s not hard,” you say. “All I had to do to be better than you thought I’d be was to not impale myself or anybody else.”

“I haven’t seen you work before today. Sue me,” Tomura says. “You know what you’re doing. That was a really good fight.”

You shrug. It pisses Tomura off. Fishing for compliments always does, and Tomura hates it – but instead of telling you to grow up, he tries to hit you over the head with it for real. “You might not know your head from your ass yet, but I do, and it was a good scene. I haven’t had a fight like that in –”

Years? A decade? Tomura doesn’t think he’s ever been in a fake fight that felt real without actually feeling unsafe. “That’s the best one I’ve done in a long time,” he says finally. “You’re a real actress now. That modesty shit isn’t cute.”

You shrug again and make your way over to where Midoriya and Iida are talking. You’re probably going to ask Midoriya if you did something wrong, and he’ll get weird and reshoot the whole thing. Or he won’t, and he’ll think you’re insecure, which drives most directors up the wall. The fight scene was good on the first take. That never happens. Excuse Tomura for wanting to enjoy it.

“Shigaraki,” Spinner says from behind Tomura, and Tomura looks at him. “That’s not how you talk to girls.”

“Huh?”

“You, like – negged her. A lot,” Spinner says. Bullshit. Tomura knows what negging is. He knows he wasn’t doing it. “You told her she sucks, and then you told her she doesn’t suck as much as you thought she did. And then you trashed her whole career before now –”

“When did I do that?” Tomura’s done with this. “I said she knew what she was doing.”

“Uh, yeah. She took you to the cleaners on camera,” Spinner says. “And I hate to be the one to say this, but you looked really into it.”

What does he mean, into it? Tomura was doing his job. If he doesn’t get into it, he has to do extra takes. “So, like I said,” Spinner continues, “if you want to talk to girls and have it go anywhere, you have to give actual compliments. Not just tell her you’re surprised she wasn’t worse.”

“That’s not what I said,” Tomura growls. He doesn’t like anything about this conversation – not what Spinner’s implying, not what Spinner’s telling him to do. “Since when do you give me advice about girls?”

“Since I’ve gone on a date in the last six months,” Spinner says without blinking. “When was the last time you went out?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Dabi spent the last six months in rehab. You could have gotten out there,” Spinner says. Tomura glares at him. “All you did was work out and play League.”

“That’s what I was busy doing,” Tomura says. “I don’t need lessons on talking to girls.”

“Sure,” Spinner says. “Give her a real compliment next time. It’ll help.”

It’ll help with what? Tomura doesn’t know what Spinner thought he saw, but whatever it is, it wasn’t there. Tomura doesn’t date actresses. Or actors, in spite of what a bunch of Dabi’s fans seem to think is going on between the two of them. And even if Tomura was going to date an actress, he wouldn’t date somebody like you – somebody new to all of this, somebody naïve, somebody whose confidence can barely survive a single hit. Maybe you’ll be the kind of actress Tomura would date if you make it through this shoot alive. The fact that no actress would ever date Tomura doesn’t matter at all.

Even if this is the only blockbuster you ever do, he’ll get to fight you at least one more time. There’s another fight scene between Quicksilver and Psylocke later on in the script. As Tomura leans against a tree waiting for his ride to show up while you talk way too earnestly to Midoriya, he finds that he’s already looking forward to it.

Act 2 ->

[olderthannetfic]

Hi, anon who was asking for sweater patterns here. The raglan looks great and very doable, and I might honestly just go with that, though I was also thinking of doing something with some simple cabling. I've never done cables before, but I tend to like how they look and my first sweater seems as good a time as any to learn.

--

Cables can be reasonably simple. I don't have a sweater rec offhand, but this hat was designed to teach someone cables:

I've made a couple of them. They're simple, but they don't have that 'I only made this to practice' vibe.

The key to cables is to learn to read charts right away and to pick a pattern that has 1. fewer total times the yarn crosses over itself (i.e. longer stretches between the cross, meaning elongated-looking motifs) and 2. very regular and symmetrical cables.

So, for example, a cable where 1 stitch crosses over 2 is usually more confusing than a cable where 2 stitches cross over 2. A cable pattern where the actual cable cross happens on rows 4, 8, 12, etc. is easy to memorize, while one where pattern A goes on row 4, pattern B goes on row 6, pattern C goes on row 14, etc. is hard to memorize.

Something like the Handsome Chris (replicating that sweater from Knives Out) has cables that mostly make sense, but there are just so many. It takes forever to finish the sweater. I'd consider this an intermediate sweater where much of the difficulty is just in sticking with it long enough. It's really hard to say how long a sweater takes a person to knit, but at a wild guess, I'd say most people are taking 100 hours of labor at least on this one.

Something like the Minori has cables that are hard to memorize and very confusing. It also has one pattern that does everything important on odd rows while every other part of the sweater does the important stuff on even rows. (WHYYYYYYY?! It would be so easy to swap that one tiny pattern to be consistent!) I'd consider this more of an advanced sweater.

The Timberline has confusing cables that are hard to memorize and an insane construction. I'd place this in the Dear God Why very advanced category.

But notice that the Handsome Chris looks pretty complex, not that different from the other two. The gap is mostly in how much sense the charts make and how hard it is to memorize instead of referring back to the pattern every two seconds.

Patterns are tech writing. You can have a pattern that's hard simply because your brain works differently from the designer's or because the designer is a shitty writer. You can also have a pattern that's harder because the sweater construction is complex along with the cables being complex. The Handsome Chris is just a couple of big rectangles until you get up to the armpits, and the join where the sleeve meets the body does not have a complex shape.

Sari Nordlund's patterns have a relatively complex construction (for a total newbie), but some of her cables are simple. For example, look at the Colette pullover or the Ballard pullover. In the Colette, all of the cables are the same, and there's a long space in between the actual cross. In the Ballard, there are big stripes of plain stockinette rather than cables everywhere like on the Handsome Chris. I haven't knit these two, but I suspect I'd consider them beginner for cables and intermediate for other stuff.

Those are the kinds of factors I'd think about when trying to decide if a pattern is hard.

[star-spacer]

Initiation

Part of "The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces" series

The Heart Pirates were overwhelming. So loud and chaotic that you didn’t know how you’d ever fit in with them. But you didn’t have any need to worry.

Takes place near the beginning of reader's journey with the crew.

Though you had joined (more like forced yourself into) the Heart Pirates in a blaze of chaos and explosions (quite literally), that courage didn’t stay in the aftermath of everything. When it was all said and done, and you’d stitched in a place on the Polar Tang as their tentative tailor, all the fight and bravery went down the drain.

Though you couldn’t say that you thrived on talking to others, you boasted fair enough people skills (which was more than could be said for their—your captain). Just enough for you to be known as a cordial and affable person. But with your history, growing up as you did, you had to say that your inclinations leaned more to that of reservedness.

The same could not be said for this new group of people you found yourself with.

They were loud, you already knew that from your initial introduction to them. But now, in close quarters and a confined space, the noise absolutely echoed. The sense of camaraderie was strong with them, inside jokes and banter flowing like water between them all. They would often include you in it too.

“Hey, Newbie!”

You froze as Ikkaku honed in on you, a touch of wildness in her eyes as she sped to you, dragging Clione along with her.

“Oi, don’t involve other people in with this!” the hooded blonde complained, but he still cornered you alongside the tall woman.

“We need you to settle this for us!” Ikkaku declared, crossing her arms. “Clione thinks that white lights are the best interior lights. But obviously, warmer lights are better than cool ones, yeah? You agree, right?”

“No???! Don’t influence the Newbie!”

“Shut up, you’re just angry because I’m right!”

“Uhm,” you began warily. “I think white lights are good if you want to maintain alertness, but warmer-toned lights are good for relaxation. Depending on what you need, one cn be better for your eyes than the other.”

Both stared at you blankly.

“Yeah, but which one is better?” Ikkaku prompted.

“I… They all have their…uses…”

Both members threw their hands up in twin displays of frustration. “That doesn’t help at all!”

They devolved back into their squabble, and you took a step away.

Two heads snapped at you. “Stay here!”

Your shoulders sunk down as you glanced furtively down the hall to see if anybody was coming. It seems like you’ll be stuck with them for a bit.

But not only did they pull you into the most mundane of conversations, but they were also touchy.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi were guilty of being particularly forward, the three having no qualms being in everyone’s space. While Bepo’s was well-intentioned—the Mink trying his best not to overstep his boundaries aside from when he’d scoop someone up in a hug—Penguin and Shachi had no qualms about holding back. Crewmates were often the victim of one or both of them leaning on them at once, on either side. The first time they did that, you nearly jumped a foot in the air, if not for their weight on you. 

The bolts of fabrics you were carrying thumped to the ground as you were jostled by twin pairs of arms, pushing you down. “Ah!”

“Whatcha got there, Newbie?” Penguin asked.

“New fabrics for the boiler suits,” you replied, wiggling out of their hold to hurriedly pick up the nearest roll, inspecting them for any stains. You would’ve snapped at the pair for making you drop them, but you were too busy fretting, and did not want to piss off the unofficial-official first mates of the captain. “I–Uh, C-Captain approved of this particular type. It’s more suitable to the conditions of the Tang than your suits now.”

“Oh shit, really?” Shachi crouched down right next to you, his side pressed up against your own as he grabbed the bolt of fabric you were holding while Penguin began gathering the other rolls.

The taller man tried to pick up all up, but let out a curse as their weight bore down on him. “Holy crap—”

You wobbled as his heat burned into your side, a hand reaching out to steady him as you took a few off to lighten the load.

“How the hell were you carrying so many with your stature?!?” Penguin ask incredulously, tugging his hat back in place.

“I’m used to it,” you said simply, reaching for the rest in his hold. However, a hand fisted the back of your current suit’s collar and hauled you up. “Ack–!”

“No need!” Shachi announced, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Big Bro Peng and I will help you carry them!”

“Are you sure this is not you two trying to worm out of the Captain’s duties again…?” You asked.

“No way!”

“That’s silly!”

(They were, in fact, trying to dodge responsibilities.)

Though, despite their welcoming air, you couldn’t help but linger at the edges of everything. Too afraid to integrate yourself into their folds. Yes, you may have been brought on as their tailor—a position sorely needed as the most experienced person before you were the poor cook who at most knew how to do basic stitching—but you were still Newbie, first and foremost. Still clumsy when taking up the shared duties and occasionally getting lost in the halls. Your position here was strenuous at best, and you feared that there would be whatever reason that made them drop you off at the next island they docked at.

You peeked your head into the mess hall, wondering what was important enough that you were summoned there after your watch duties 

Shousai was the first to see you, the large, bald man waving a gloved hand at you. “Oi, Newbie, there you are!”

That sent an excited titter over the crew.

“Newbie’s here!”

“About time!”

“What took you so long?”

You took a tentative step into the room, but remained near the doors, wringing your hands. They had called you over the intercoms in the middle of you reworking he boiler suits, so it made you anxious to resume working.  “What’s… happening…?”

“Since, you’ve been doing a stellar job aboard the Polar Tang,” Bepo announced. “It’s about time that you get initiated into the group pose!”

“Group pose?”

The Mink nodded, completely serious. “Yes! We Heart Pirates take pride in our crew, so it’s imperative that we are ready to show that pride whenever Captain introduces us!”

Slowly shuffling backward, you asked, “Do I have to do it?”

“Yeah!” Clione yelled. “We all have to do it! You’re part of the crew, now. You can’t get out of this, Newbie!”

Hands grabbed your shoulders, and you looked back, expression full of betrayal as you found Uni to be the one pushing you to the group. The stoic man’s expression gave nothing away, except for the slightest pinch in the corners of his eyes that indicated amusement.

More hands grabbed at your arms when you were in range, Uni leaving to assume his position once he ensured that Shachi’s hold on you rendered escape impossible. You were shuffled from person to person, but for once, their touches didn’t make you tense nor freeze the way touches used to. They had, without you realizing, wormed their way through your guards as much as you’ve settled into their rank. In their endearingly Heart Pirates way.

Weak. Would have been what he called them. Called you. But those were just the whispers of the dead.

Shosai muttered your name as you were slotted right next to him. “You have to convince Risso to make something other than broiled rice cakes and peas and fish for dinner.”

“He says we have to try and conserve our supplies,” you protested quietly as Omura’s elbow dug into your shoulder.

“Yes, but we all know there are much better combinations than fish and peas.”

Scanning the group for the yellow newsboy hat and braids of the cook, you asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“He likes you more!”

Bepo turned to give the both of you a chastising look as Shachi shushed you two. The Mink waited until the redhead ran through the positioning of your arms and legs. “Okay, Newbie! We’re going to do it now. Do you have the pose memorized?”

“Yes,” you said sulkily, resigned to your fate.

“Okay, Heart Pirates! Three, two, one!”

The crew burst into a clamoring of noise and limbs, you following suit with a heaping dose of embarrassment.

Your face burned  even hotter as, right after, the captain walked into the room. Law didn’t even blink as he saw the group of you in the mess hall, mug of coffee in his hands as he sipped on it. The crew held that pose, as if waiting for his approval.

He looked at you all with a sharp eye, amusement shining through as he cocked his head. “I think you should move Newbie-ya more to the left.”

“COME ON, CAPTAIN!”

Your face quivered as you fought a smile. Surrounded on all sides by lively figures, you undeniably felt warm.

Eventually, the nickname fell away, to be replaced with your own name or “Tailor”. Years later, as you and your nakama—a little bruised, and battered, but now twenty strong—assembled into that ridiculous group pose to greet Straw Hat, Shosai lifting you up onto his shoulders so you could throw your arms up and out into a victorious ‘V’, Jean Bart’s steady presence behind you, you couldn’t feel a greater sense of belonging.

[meluli]

✨️ Bojack Horseman 10th Anniversary ✨️

Since today is a special day for this special show I'll share this cross stitch I finished years ago (back when I was a newbie at it) that is definitely one of my favorite things ♡

[camscramps]

Malphas introduces Democracy (Or his version of it)

A/N: what's up gamers, I decided that posting this on AO3 wasn't enough and I wanted to try to cross post over here as well, I am still a newbie at these things as I've always been a lurker and not someone whose actually posted content like this before so please let me know if the format is janky and stuff but other than that I hope you enjoy what has become my hyperfixation as of late, feedback is very much appreciated!! :3

“This is getting ridiculous..” 

He grumbled as he sat on the bench, leg crossed over one and other as he impatiently tapped on the railing as he looked around at those passing by hoping any of them could be Reheal. 

The angel was running fifteen minutes late, although it had only been ten minutes since he himself had arrived at the park. 

“You’d think that from someone so divine they could at least be here on time… I have better things to do, or at least tormenting Ace would be better than this heh.” 

He slightly smirked at the thought of further making his descendant's life more difficult than it already was. The kid was a good worker, he will admit but he didn’t need to know that or else he would grow an ego from it, and he really didn’t need that around the office. He could always put him to work during the graveyard shift again, oh the look on his face afterwards, he actually took a picture of it framing it somewhere around his office, the look of terror paired with the eyebags underneath the young man’s eye always gave him a good chuckle. 

But before he could think of any newer ways to torment the young blonde a sudden flash of what seemed to be divine light went off next to him blinding him momentarily.

“Gah! You could always warn a guy first, you know!” 

“Ah, apologies I forget about your light sensitivity-“ 

“for someone so divine as yourself, you sure have a knack for being late, frankly it’s getting annoying.” 

He crossed his arms as he scoffed a bit as he let his eye recover from the blinding light.

“Let’s get this show on the road, what are you going to accuse me of now? Hm?”

He looks at whatever form Reheal seems to have taken, it seems this time it would be that of a daycare worker if the apron decorated with finger hand paintings and stickers meant anything, not that they had the name of the place stitched on it either, it seems that they went for a female vessel this time, and a cute one at that with her sleek black hair pulled up in a half updo and her red framed glasses. 

“For starters, I would like to apologize for my tardiness, things have gotten quite… hectic and we seem to have ourselves a situation, I was hoping you would know something about it?” 

“A situation you say? Now what may this situation be?” 

“Well…”

They look around as if to be cautious that a passerby may hear their conversation. 

“Recently a group of our cherubs were sent on their daily mission to try to save a soul for the lord.”

“Uh huh.”

“But something went wrong, there was… a hellish intervention.” 

“Oh?” 

“It appears that some imps without a demonic owner had found their way up here, causing not only chaos and destruction on their wake but also appearing in front of humans-“

They pause a bit as they hesitate to say the next part, lowering their head in shame as they rub their forehead in embarrassment. 

“They meddled with the cherub's mission to the point where they caused the death of a man who was a candidate to eternal paradise.” 

Oh.

Malphas let out a low whistle as he placed his arms behind his head and looked up to the sky in the same surprised way.

“Wow… just… wow- Hold on, how am I to blame for this?” he asked, offended that the angel would think he would do not only something so careless but lazy as well.

Reheal looked at him with the same patient look in their eyes although this time he could see that they looked more tired but that could also be because of the avatar they chose.

“If i’m not mistaken, you are President of Hell?”

He scoffed as his one good eye stared back at Raheal’s bug eye look.

“Nothing more of a title really, the most I did was help rule some rings- if anything the title that fits the most is being “architect” of hell. Besides, you know I don’t spend any time down there- I mean if anything this is more like my jurisdiction!” 

He spread his arms looking around the park before leaning against the bench once again as he looked nonchalantly at the angel.

“Reheal, what is it that you’re exactly asking for?” 

The angel once again blankly staring at him speaks in their soft tone as always, but he could pick up a hint of exhaustion in their tone.

“I need eyes from the inside, something… feels wrong and everything is out of balance, without balance our divine plan is getting further and further delayed, and I'm not sure what but the high seraphim is hiding something.”

“Wow, questioning the high seraphim? I didn’t think you had it in you angel, if you wanted to fall you should have let me know.” he jests, the angel could only grit their teeth slightly as they clench their fists placed on their lap, only Malphas was capable of getting such a reaction out of them.

“It’s not conspiring! At least not when it’s about finding out what the heck is happening that imps and other hellborns are suddenly coming up here causing havoc.” 

He raises his hands amused seeing the angel finally have some emotion other than just a polite smile on their face, or well on their human avatar.

“Alright, but I figured you have angels who are usually in charge of investigating such things? I mean does it have to be me?” he protests not liking whatever it is that the angel was going to request from him.

The angel looks away momentarily, preferring to stare at the ducks wandering in front of them as they waddle away from the trail in a straight line.

“That was my first thought as well, but if the high Seraphim is hiding something whose to say they aren’t part of it as well? It’s something I need to figure alone.” 

He smirked at the angel's response, he knew the angel had always followed the divine law to a T but after a millennium of knowing them it was always nice to find new things about them.

“Careful with what you say Angel, it was that same thinking that got Lucifer expelled, well you barely came to existence when that all went down, huh?”  

The angel turned around as it craned its neck to look up at Malphas, their stare even more intense than before still showing the same soft smile on their face.

“You don't think I know that? It terrifies me knowing that I suspect that the high seraphim is hiding something, but it can’t be a coincidence with what happened recently- I can’t just let it go until I know the full story.” 

“What’s in it for me?” 

“What? What’s in it for you?” 

“Well I’m obviously not going to do this for free you know! I’m going to be losing a pretty dime with however long it’s going take me-“

“Can’t you ever do something for free? Must everything be a business opportunity for you?”

Malphas looked at the angel with a smug “You already know” look.  

Taking a deep breath Reheal decided that it was better to compromise with the crow demon than argue any longer, no matter how many decades in human years have passed Malphas never seemed to have changed, not even his appearance though they knew that the crow demon would always keep up with whatever the trending style was in, and at the moment he seemed to following it if his shag like hairstyle and floral shirt that was almost indecently unbuttoned was an indicator, no matter what he was still the same o’l Malphas as always.

“Fine, I will stop bothering you…. For five years?” 

“Five? Oh come on, that’s nothing to beings like us!”

“Alright, ten years?” 

“Make it twenty.” 

“Ten.” 

“Twenty.”

“Ten.”

“Nineteen?” 

“Twelve.” 

“fifteen?” 

“Fifteen.” 

“Well, you got yourself a deal!” 

Standing and stretching himself letting out a loud and dramatic yawn as he looked at the angel with a mischievous grin. 

“I guess I better get going huh?” 

“The sooner the better I say, I must get going as well, they will grow suspicious of my absence.” 

“Before you leave do you mind givi- Gah!” 

Quickly covering his eye as once again the angel leaves in a flash of divine light leaving its human avatar in confusion on how she found herself in the middle of the park. 

She looked around confused as to how she found herself in the middle of the park when she was supposed to be back at the daycare with the kids, but her thoughts were interrupted as the man standing in front of her spoke in a raspy voice.

“Oh my goodness! How did I get here?! Oh my god, the kids?! Sir, could you please-” 

“Catch ya later toots.” 

He walked away leaving the daycare worker not only extremely confused on who the random one-eyed man was but stranded as well.

[darling-heffron]

I worked so hard on this moodboard, I was feeling creative, please enjoy! Also look at me posting on the right day hehehe! I hope you enjoy this chapter cause I do (and I hope you can tell which part I like the most)

Love Esra✨

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @mellow-human , @next-autopsy if anyone else wants to be added, please let us know!!

Chapter Fifteen: Double Whammy 

Sam’s POV:

“How’s your ass, Perco?” His group of friends gathered in the small medical tent he had been taken to. 

“Never had any complaints.” Seemed like the man was back to his usual self. 

“He needed 6 stitches in his natal cleft.” A voice spoke from behind the group, everyone’s head turned to see who was speaking. 

The medic looked up at all of them from his perch, he seemed to have a permanently worried look on his face, but he looked kind all the same. 

“Natal cleft?” Mars asked never hearing those words before in her life. 

“He means my ass.” Frank called from his position lying face down on the bed. 

“No, Perconte, I mean your natal cleft. It's the deep groove which runs between the two buttocks from just below the sacrum to the perineum.” The group stared at the man blankly, the man sighed and rubbed his temples before he explained, “His ass crack.” 

A collective ‘ahh’ rose from the team. 

“And how long will he be out of action?” Sam questioned, earning a few disapproving glances from the men. But the girl promptly ignored them, she hadn’t all of a sudden started caring about their opinions of her. 

“Maybe about two weeks.” Gene estimated, “But it’s hard to tell. We will just have to wait and see.” 

The older girl huffed, Bull elbowed her in the side with a raise of his eyebrows silently telling her to reign it in. 

“Guys!” Lieb’s annoying voice rose from outside of the tent. The group made their way out to join him in the empty space. “Just cause you’re newbies, doesn’t mean we let you get off easy. We have work to do.” 

Sam rolled her eyes, even the voice of this man infuriated her to no end. 

“Do you have a problem, Jackson?” Liebgott hadn’t missed the look of pure annoyance on the young girl’s face. 

Sam sucked her teeth and tried to even out her anger before she spoke. 

“No problem here.” She dismissed the man, not giving in to his humiliation tactic. 

“You’re missing something.” His eyebrows raised and his friend, Tipper, who stood beside him tried to control the smile that crept onto his features. Tipper and Marleen made eye contact and she mirrored his expression. 

Sam didn’t speak, if he was so desperate to piss her off she wasn’t going to fall into the obvious trap. 

“Are your ears not working?” Lieb tried again, crossing his arms over his chest. The only people he was making uncomfortable were the rest of the group that stood around her. 

“They work perfectly well.” Sam’s tone was snarky and rude. She could feel Bull’s eyes boring a hole into the back of her head. 

“So, tell me what you missed.” Liebgott’s smirk grew. 

Sam’s fists clenched at her sides. “No. Problem. Here.” She paused a moment before she fully finished her sentence, “Sir.” 

She wanted to punch the smug look right off his face, but she stayed in her place. 

“We need to restock firewood. Get into two groups and follow me.” Lieb and Tipper turned on their heels and made their way out of the locked gates. The men standing armed at the fence stood aside to let them pass before closing and relocking the perimeter. 

Two teams; one of three and one of four stood with space between them so that the men could tell who was where. 

Shifty, Martin and Lip made the team of three, leaving Sam, Mars, Luz and Bull on the other. 

The men wandered further out into the forest, they had walked so far that the noises from the camp faded into the distance until they couldn’t be heard. 

Tipper and Lieb whispered quietly before turning around to face the groups. 

“Team of three, follow me.” Tipper didn’t wait for them before he turned on his heel and walked away from the remaining group that stood watching them leave. 

“And you lot are with me.” Lieb grinned. They had clearly done this on purpose; the man seemed to be obsessed with Sam. 

Thankfully, Bull and Luz fell into step with the tall Lieb and kept him occupied with friendly chatter while Sam hung back with Mars. 

“Are you ok?” Marleen asked again, the second time that day. She had noticed the effect this man was having on her friend and suspected this type of interaction was new to her. 

“I don’t like that guy.” Sam watched the men walking ahead of the pair, “He has it out for me.”

“Yeah, cause he likes you.” Mars said as if it was obvious. 

The older girl had never been loved before, not even liked by someone, but she wasn’t sure this was how people acted if they were attracted to someone. Weren’t they supposed to be nice? 

“I don’t understand other people’s feelings.” Sam reported dumbfounded. 

“It’s ok, that’s why you have me!” The younger girl attached herself to the taller woman’s arm as they walked along. 

“Where is he taking us? Aren’t we supposed to be collecting wood?” Sam's nerves had already been set on edge when they had first met these people, but now her senses were even more heightened. 

“This is our woodstock.” Lieb announced as they came to a small hutt that was filled to the brim with logs. 

“We collect from here to take back but what you take you must restock. That means that the wood can dry out and be ready for use when we need it.” The man announced their system. 

“So, let’s all go collect wood and bring it back here and then we can go back to camp. Don’t get lost and be on guard, even though we’re sheltered here doesn’t mean we are completely safe from the hoards.” The men nodded, patting their weapons that they had on their person. 

Sam took Mars’ hand and led her away from the group. She needed the younger girl to stick by her side since Marleen wasn’t confident enough, nor did she have the skills to defend herself. 

“So, how good are you at fighting?” Lieb had circled round the group and fell into step with the taller girl who clamped down on her lower lip trying to keep her cool. The man continued when he realised Sam wasn’t going to answer him. 

“You might be good, but that’s only cause you fight other women. I don’t think you would be able to take down a skilled male.” Liebgott was good at one thing, pushing her fucking buttons. 

Sam’s steps faltered and she turned to look deadpan at the taller man that smiled, all too pleased with himself. 

“Do you wanna find out?” Sam gave a threatening smile. 

“Sam.” Mars whispered under her breath tugging gently on the older girl’s arm. 

Taking a deep breath she continued on her journey, she was going to be the bigger person even if she hated it. 

“Too scared?” Lieb prodded the angry bear. 

But Sam persisted in her walking. Ignore him.

His firm hands found the top of her back as he shoved the girl forward. Sam stumbled a step or two before she regained her balance. 

Be the bigger person, be the bigger person. 

Fuck the bigger person. 

Sam swung around at speed. Lieb didn’t even see her fist flying towards his face before it was too late. Her punch swept him clean off his feet and he hit the ground with a hard thud. Sam was on top of him in seconds, Mars let out a high pitched squeal as she watched the pair collide with the ground. 

Liebgott groaned in pain but recovered quickly and grinned up at her, the tang of copper in his mouth, he could admit she had gotten him good. 

“Say one more thing.” Sam dared the man with her fist pulled back awaiting her next strike. 

“Samantha!” Bull had obviously heard the commotion and came running over. 

“Daddy’s calling.” The dominated man teased.

Her fist shook with power, she was so ready to pummell the shit outta this kid. 

“Get off him, Sam.” Bull commanded. 

Sam leaned in close so that no one could hear her next words apart from Lieb. 

“I will skin you alive, you maggot eating fuck.”

The taller girl was swiftly removed from the man, Bull’s large hands captured her upper arms and hauled her off. 

“Sam, what happened to keeping a low profile?” Bull asked sternly as he placed her back on the floor, but still kept his grip on her so couldn’t attack again. 

“He started it!” She felt like she was six again being reprimanded by her teacher. 

“Liebgott, she didn’t mean to.” Bull covered for his younger companion. 

“No, I knew exactly what I was doing.” The tall girl growled, Denver squeezed her biceps in warning. 

“It’s fine. It was just a bit of roughhousing.” The man got to his feet and dusted the dirt from his pants. “No harm done. Dougal doesn’t need to know about this.” 

“Let’s just finish this task.” Lieb smiled as if he hadn’t just been decked in the face not moments ago. He spat the blood from his mouth and wiped the crimson from his lips. 

“Behave.” Bull whispered in her ear before he let her go. 

“Sam, oh my God!” Mars looked shocked as she approached the angry girl. “You punched him!” 

“He pushed me!” Sam huffed exasperatedly. “You know what, never mind. Let’s just collect this damn firewood.” 

—---------------------------------------

Mars’ POV:

Mars followed closely beside the still fuming Sam, jogging to keep up with the taller woman as they reentered the camp grounds.

She had watched the whole interaction happen in slow-mo, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy watching Liam get what he deserved. 

As the locked gates swung open more men appeared walking around the camp. Mars hadn’t seen so many people since the day Denver and her had fled the city on the first day. 

“Alright guys we will find you in an hour or two, you’ll be helping prep dinner.” Liam clapped, gaining the attention of the younger girl who’s eyes skimmed over the crowds. 

“Come on Sam.” Mars led the older girl along behind her, otherwise she would’ve spent the rest of the afternoon trying to kill Liam with her eyes. 

Not looking where she was going, too busy trying to herd Sam, Mars crashed straight into another person.

“Mars!” The older girl called, seeing that Mars was now sitting on the floor, “Would you look where you’re going.” The taller blonde tsked. 

“Sorry about that, Miss.” A polite voice captured the younger girl’s attention. A man with red hair and a kind face peered down at her. He stuck out his hand offering assistance to help her get to her feet. 

Mars gratefully accepted that young man’s hand as he heaved her to stand. 

“Don’t be sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was walking.” Mars smiled widely at the man, who in turn matched her bright grin.  

“Babe.” He began shaking her hand which he still held. 

The pair looked at the man curiously. It was clear they were both trying to figure out who he was calling ‘Babe’. Marleen glanced over at her companion, wincing when she saw Sam’s clenched jaw and tightened fists. 

“I’m sorry?” Mars asked politely before the older girl could chime in and say something rude. 

“Oh, sorry.” He released her hand, “My name is Edward Heffron, but everyone calls me Babe.” The redhead clarified, smiling sweetly. 

“Marleen Fin-” The young blonde began, but the man quickly interjected. 

“I know your name, Mars. That’s the only thing the men can talk about. We haven’t had any women join us. You two are like celebrities.” 

“Oh, I see.” Marleen paused before remembering the beginning of their odd interaction, “Why Babe? How’d you get stuck with that gem?” 

“Ha, it’s a bit of an inside joke.” The red head gave a shy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 

“Guess that means you have to keep it to yourself then.” The older girl mumbled loud enough to be heard. Her short companion waved her off. 

“Don’t be silly! We love inside jokes.” Marleen smiled brightly as she encouraged the man to explain. 

“Well, before all this went down, I was starting work as a building apprentice. And on my first day, my mum called and some of the guys overheard her calling me ‘her sweet baby boy.’ It got shortened to Babe and just stuck.” 

By the end of his anecdote both he and Mars were cackling like old friends. Sam, on the other hand, stood back and watched with her arms crossed over her chest, completely unamused. 

“What’s so funny?” A thick accented man who was walking by, stopped to join their conversation. Sam ignored him entirely, barely tolerating this entire situation. 

“Speak of the devil.” Babe winked, “This here is Ol’ Gonorrhoea!” He slapped his friend on the back in good nature, earning a dry ‘ha, ha’ from the older man. 

“I suppose you have an explanation for that one too?” Mars laughed, her eyes crinkled and her cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so hard. 

“The name’s Bill Guarnere. Gonorrhoea- Guarnere, you get it.” He shrugged

“So you two worked together… you know, before?” The young girl asked, apart from Denver she hadn’t seen anyone she knew from before. 

“Yeah, the three of us have been together since day one.” 

“Three of you?” Her curiosity piqued and she couldn’t help but investigate. 

“Yeah, us and Toye… I actually think you met Toye already.” Guarnere told the girls. 

“Toye?” A confused look found its way onto Marleen’s face, “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone named Toye.”

“Yeah, no you guys definitely met.” Babe snickered. 

“Remind me what he looks like again? There are so many of you it’s hard to keep track of everyone- lot of names to remember.” Mars spoke light heartedly, brushing her confusion aside- it wasn’t like her to forget names or faces, she was a people person through and through. 

“He’s right,” the young redhead turned around trying to locate his friend, “over,” his eyes scanned the area, “there!” The man pointed, both girls followed his aim. 

Sam couldn’t hold back a short burst of laughter while the younger girl stayed silent. Her cheeks quickly warmed when she realised who he was talking about. 

The tall handsome man she had completely embarrassed herself in front of earlier. 

“Toye.” She tested the name on her lips, “What sort of name is Toye?” 

“It’s his last name, his first name is Joe; Joseph. But Joe is a common name, we have two, so he goes by Toye.” Babe explained, grinning. 

“You girls alright?” Denver appeared, eyeing up the men conversing with the ladies, “These guys bothering you?” His question was more for Mars than Sam but he still wanted to check up on both of his girls. 

The older female threw Bull a bored look paired with a minuscule shrug and with that, the stocky man stepped closer to Marleen. 

“Oh hey, Denver!” The short girl grinned, always happy to see her old neighbour. He reached out to her, putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a side hug. 

“You good?” The tall man whispered to her while keeping his eyes trained on the men, from Bull’s point of view it looked like they had been flirting with the naive blonde. 

“Yeah, all good, Denver.” Mars nodded, snuggling into his side. 

Guarnere turned his head to his redheaded friend and the pair shared a look, the exchange was so brief it went unnoticed. 

“Well, we should be off. Work to do.” He voiced, Babe nodded along with him. 

“It was nice meeting you! See ya guys around.” Marleen spoke cheerfully to Babe and Guarnere as she hung onto Denver’s arm, completely unaware what was running through their minds. 

“You girls ever need anything…” Guarnere trailed off, his implication clear. The two Easy members gave friendly smiles and nods before wandering off. 

“I thought they’d never leave.” Sam grumbled, as she turned and fell into step with Denver and Mars, who walked with their arms still wrapped around each other. 

————————-

The newbies, minus an injured Perco, were split into groups once again. This time Mars, Lipton and Luz were sent to the designated food area to help prep for dinner while Sam, Denver, Martin and Shifty were given the task of setting up the campfire area. 

Winters had come by to explain that this bonfire was for them, a way for the new people to integrate and make friends with the existing members as well as let the existing members know who the newcomers were.   

Sam was less than happy about being separated from Marleen and vice versa, but the older girl realised she would rather heave logs of wood around as makeshift seating than have anything to do with cooking. That didn't stop her from glancing over and checking on Mars every few minutes.

The younger girl seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing and joking with the guys who worked in the ‘kitchen’. 

Mars had met four men while doing food prep. Firstly, a blue eyed guy who introduced himself as David Webster but she quickly noticed everyone called him Web. 

Next was a pair of young boys, her age or maybe a year or two younger: John Janovec and James Miller. And lastly, Tony Garcia- she had noticed a trend of the men going by their last names and just went with it. 

Not long after greeting these men, Marleen acquired the knowledge that Garcia spoke Spanish. She spent the next hour yapping at him in their shared language, it felt nostalgic to her, reminding the young blonde of her family. 

“Oh Christ!” A voice sounded, pulling Marleen’s attention away from her newest friend, “There’s another one? Great! Just what we needed- two spics.” His comment was mumbled under his breath but everyone still heard it. 

Her jaw dropped, had he really just said that? The young blonde turned to see a man she was yet to be introduced to. He was tall and lanky, she hadn’t recalled seeing around the camp at all that day. 

“I beg your unbelievable pardon?!” Her voice squeaked out, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Perhaps she had misheard him or maybe he didn’t mean to offend. Mars would give him a chance to back track before she took drastic measures. 

“Just leave it alone, Marleen.” Garcia whispered to her, his gaze had shifted to the floor and a crestfallen look rested on his face. He almost looked ashamed and that was her final straw- maybe this guy shouldn’t be given a chance to explain. 

“You heard me, sweetheart.” The new arrival spat out clear hatred on his features. 

“Cobb, leave her alone.” Garcia spoke up in a moment of bravery, but the disgusted glare sent to him from the argumentative man, promptly shut him up.

“What makes you think it’s okay to talk to people like that, huh?” Mars couldn’t help but respond, it was like a fire was lit under her, warmth filled her veins. She stepped closer to this stranger, her heart pumped fast and she had the sudden urge to scream. 

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.” This time it was Web who spoke to her, trying to keep the peace between Marleen and this guy. She ignored him, brushing his gently placed hand off her shoulder and stepped even closer to the offending person. 

“Are you deaf? Or are you that stupid and need me to repeat myself?” Cobb barked. 

Mars didn’t even listen to the end of his sentence before she found herself winding her hand back and slapping it across his cheek. 

The sound of skin on skin contact echoed throughout the campsite. 

The noise alerted Sam and she raised her head to investigate, instantly noticing Mars squaring up to a member of Easy. 

The older girl dropped the armful of kindling she had been carrying to the fire pit and ran to her friend's side. She was followed by several others, including Denver. 

A flurry of voices burst; Cobb was yelling and swearing, Mars spat out spiteful comments in both English and Spanish while Web and Garcia were doing their best to soothe the pair. 

“Enough!” A deep voice boomed. Speirs had marched over when he noticed the quarrel and now he stood in front of them with his hands on his hips and a furious expression. 

“Someone had better explain what the hell is going on.” But nobody even moved to speak, keeping quiet and trying their best not to make eye contact with the authoritative man. 

“I’m going to get Winters. That gives you two minutes to get your stories straight.” Speirs announced before stomping away. 

The second he was out of earshot, both Denver and Sam began talking to the short blonde girl. 

“Marleen! What the hell!” 

“What did he do?” 

Mars didn’t say anything, she just glowered at Cobb. Sam took in this man’s appearance, looking him up and down- and she didn’t like what she saw. He came off as weasley as he snivelled and held his reddening cheek. 

Sam wanted to snarl at him, knowing whatever he had said or done to the cheerful girl was worth more than a little slap. 

Denver let out a sigh at the short girl, “Marleen.” He spoke softly, urging her to say something. 

“He started it.” She mumbled out, holding her hands behind her back like a child being scorned by a parent. 

Denver brought his hand up to his eyes, rubbing them in frustration. 

“Mars,” His tone was heavy with disappointment, “I expected more from you.” 

Sam frowned at his words, she knew that something must have pushed the younger girl to strike someone as she would never normally do anything like this. Not without good reason. 

Marleen clenched her jaw, it looked like she was going to cry but she did her best to hold it together. 

“We are guests here, these guys are helping us and both of you girls have been acting like children.” Bull looked between the women, “I kinda knew Sam would act out like this,” He waved his hand at the named girl, who rolled her eyes and scoffed at his comment. 

“But I had hoped you would reign it in- and you.” He stepped closer to Marleen, “I thought you would behave better. Now, tell me what the hell happened?” 

His lecture seemed to be over, neither girl was happy and everyone who surrounded them came across as uncomfortable having witnessed the ladies be reprimanded. 

As if being saved from giving her recount of the event, Speirs and Winters appeared. Both kept their faces as neutral as possible yet they did not look happy. 

“I want a recount of what happened.” The redheaded man declared. Nobody jumped to speak up, so he was forced to single someone out. 

“Marleen, I’ve been told you hit Cobb. Is that accurate?” 

“She wouldn’t have hit him without prompt, Sir.” It was Sam who raised her voice. She knew she had to defend Mars and no matter what had happened she would take the girls' side. 

Winters nodded thoughtfully, pausing to think of his next words, “I’m sure you’re right, Sam. But I still need to know what went down.” His voice was soft, he knew his men and Cobb was a troublemaker. Winters may not know the new additions so well but he was almost sure this scuffle was warranted. 

Just when it looked like no one would speak up, the young man with a buzz cut stepped forward. 

“Cobb used a slur. He called Marleen and Garcia… a slur.” Janovec paused, not wanting to repeat it. Then added on, as if he remembered who he was speaking to, murmured, “Sir.” 

The group that had gathered collectively clicked onto the situation. Denver sagged his shoulders now thinking he had been too harsh on the girl while Samantha seethed. 

“What?” Sam spoke through clenched teeth. 

“Is this true?” Winters aimed his query at the man in question. He glowered and lowered his gaze before muttering a quiet “Yes, Sir.” 

“Come with me.” The redhead left no room for discussion as he turned and left towards the unfinished building. Cobb hesitated for a mere second before he followed after Winters, sulking as he did so. 

The rest of the kitchen crew busied themselves with their work, leaving the two women and Denver to have a semi private conversation. 

The bulky man opened his mouth to apologise, he had been on high alert all day and hadn’t meant to let his stress out on the short blonde. 

“Don’t.” Marleen spat out, tears had filled her eyes over the course of her reprimand and she couldn’t hold them back any longer. They fell down her cheeks and she quickly turned and stomped away, not wanting to stand in front of Denver and cry. 

“Real nice.” The taller girl commented, following her counterpart to their tent and leaving the southern man to wallow in his guilt. 

Sam jogged after the short blonde, she could be fast when she wanted to. 

“Mars! Wait!” But Marleen had already unzipped and entered their shared tent, ignoring Sam calling out for her. 

The older blonde ducked as she entered the tent, immediately noticing her friend crouched on the floor atop her sleeping bag. She knelt beside the girl and pulled her into a hug without hesitation. 

She stayed there with her arms wrapped around Marleen's smaller frame and let the girl sob. 

Once her cries dimmed, Mars pulled back from the embrace.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,“ She hiccuped, “I just got so mad and-“ Mars didn’t really have an explanation for her behaviour. 

She wasn't even from Mexico like the slur suggested, but it had still worked her up. And after getting to know Garcia as a soft spoken, kind hearted guy, she was angry for him. The fact that he seemed used to this treatment pissed her off and she couldn’t stand by and say nothing. Her emotions took over when she reached out and slapped Cobb but she didn’t regret it. 

The only thing that she regretted was upsetting Denver. The disappointment on his face was etched into her mind and that made her want to cry all over again. 

“He didn’t mean it, you know?” Sam spoke as if reading her mind, “I’ve been winding him up since we got here, threatening to fight everyone. And when I punched that asshole, Bull was pissed.” She tried to lighten the mood with a smile and a nudge of the short girl's shoulder. 

It worked momentarily as Marleen giggled through her sniffs, but the forlorn look found it way back onto her features.

“Do you think he’s super mad at me?” Her whispered tone made her sound a lot younger than she was. 

“No.” Sam shook her head, “In fact, I think he regrets it. He was just having a bad day and snapped but I know if he’d have heard what really happened, he would’ve been proud of you for standing up for yourself, I know I am.” 

“He called us ‘Spics’.” Marleen said under her breath, frowning as she did. Sam kept quiet and let her continue.

“I speak Spanish, sure. But I’m not Mexican, my mum came from Spain. But it still pissed me off. It hurt.” With her last words came more tears. Sam could only watch and pity her confidant, pulling her into one more hug.

There wasn’t much she could say to comfort Mars, but showing her empathy with physical contact was more than enough for the younger woman. 

Marleen snuggled into the hold, clinging onto Sam as she willed herself to stop her silent tears. 

“He says anything to you again, I’ll kill him.” 

Marleen chuckled but Sam didn’t, “I’m not kidding.” She spoke flatly. 

“Thank you, Sammy.” Mars smiled warmly knowing this girl was becoming her best friend and she was definitely growing on the guarded heart that belonged to Samantha Jackson. 

AHHHHHHH she got him!!! LMAO, but I mean he deserved it winding up Sam like that will only get you punched in the face so...

Esra✨

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 2: an invitation (Wriothesley's P.O.V.)

I picked up the lady who moaned at my touch. Her clothes were tattered and now coated in what appeared to be her blood. Thankfully the infirmary was close by and she was in no real danger.

I jogged over to the next hall opening and walked up the steps. Several guards looked on in confusion but I waived them off saying it was fine. I heard Sigewinne discussing the proper treatment of a rash with an older male inmate who frequented the Pankration ring.

"Now be sure to apply this ointment before going to work in the production zone and before you go to bed." Our head nurse said cheerfully.

"Yes, mam. Oh, Your grace! I didn't see you there. What happened someone passed out in the ring and you happened to be there?" The older man asked staring at the woman on my shoulder.

"Nope, not this time. Was doing my rounds and this newbie slipped down the steps to her dorm hallway. That doesn't explain this though." I said lifting the side of her shirt as I laid her down on the middle infirmary bed.

"Oh, so this must be Ms. Silva then. Nuevillette wrote me about her yesterday. He said a new inmate would be coming in pretty badly injured. He said to expect her treatment at the hospital to be less than stellar given what happened between her and the guards." Sigewinne said staring at the wound, "It looks like her stitches were snapped."

"She tripped down one of the connecting flights of stairs leading from her dorm room hall. Could the fall of caused the damage to the stitching?" I asked, crossing my arms.

I stared at the unconscious lady before me. She had striking deep navy hair with some forest green low lights. It was a rather strange combination. I noticed there was blood on the palm of her hand slowly drying in the stale humid air of Meropide.

"The stitching still had to of been struck multiple times for the edges of the wound to be so far apart. Nuevillette did write saying she could have enemies among our guards." Sigewinne said cleaning the wound and restitching it.

I noted that the male visiting Sigewinne earlier had slipped out without saying anything. Sigewinne took her time with closing up the inmate's wound. Then for good measure, she rubbed some of the salve she normally uses on cuts and bruises I obtain when I fight in the ring.

"So her name is Silva? I haven't read her file yet but did notice one titled that in the new inmate paperwork." I said as Sigewinne put away her medical supplies into a locked cabinet after pulling out fresh bandages. 

"That's right! Nuevillette said for me to help her get adjusted. I think he pities her." The human-like Melusine said shaking her head as she wrapped the fresh bandages around Silva's body.

"What makes you think that?" I said in surprise.

"The tone of his letter was different. It wasn't the usual great things about his day or a warning saying she was dangerous. He also said to be on the lookout for withdrawal effects." She said sitting at her desk, "Isn't the champion duelist visiting you soon?"

"Crap, that was why I was doing my rounds. I knew I would be busy for the next few hours." I said walking towards the exit, "Oh Sigewinne, please invite Ms. Silva to my office for tea when she wakes up. No one's first day in Meropide should be spent in the infirmary."

She smiled at me and nodded, "Yes your grace."

I took one last look at Silva. I felt a twang in my chest. She had a sad look on her sleeping face. It reminds me of how I looked after my trial. I shook my head, my hair tufts swishing a bit.

I left the infirmary and headed toward my office. My office... it still feels surreal. It hadn't even been a third of the year since I'd taken control of Meropide. I went from a lowly criminal in the eyes of the law to the Duke of the Fortress. I could have laughed.

I arrived at the cold doors of my office. With an easy push, they swing open welcoming me back to my solidarity. Ascending the metal stairs, I smiled as I heard the smooth jazz that played on my record player.

I walked over to my sofa and grabbed my kettle from the coffee table. It was nice they installed a tea nook when I became Duke. It saves me the trouble of having to boil water in the kitchen.

"Let's see, what blend do I drink with Ms. Clorinde? Hmm... it's about time for dinner so how about... ahh here it is Fontainian Garden." I said pulling out the glass jar with the loose tea leaves.

This was an uncommon item in the rag and bones shop so I bought it whenever I could. Hopefully, Clorinde likes this blend. She was quite picky when it came to tea.

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask out placing a couple of spoonfuls of the leaves into the kettle.

"It's Clorinde. Come on Wriothesley, open the door. We have important things that need to be discussed." A harsh female voice rang out.

"Coming!" I shouted setting down the pot.

I walked down the stairs and opened the door. In front of me was Clorinde with a decent-sized crate behind her. I raised my brow and gave her a funny look.

"I thought you said we were just going to be friends," I said crossing my arms and smiling, "didn't expect you to want to move in after what happened."

Clorinde just glared at me and shoved past, "Just grab the crate Wriothesley. It's your new prisoner's belongings. Not much gets to me but the thought of that woman just skipping

"Alright, alright, Archons you seem like you need a cup of tea. Thankfully I have some brewing." I said lift the crate and brought it into my office.

Closing the door, I ascended the stairs. Clorinde sat down on the couch. I shook my head and sat the box down on my desk. The kettle started whistling as I grabbed the sugar from the bookshelf. I plopped two cubes into a cup and poured the slightly red-colored tea.

"Care for a cup?" I asked looking over my shoulder.

"If you insist. One sugar cube would be nice, please." She said her shoulders relaxing as she laid back and got comfortable.

"So this is the girl who landed ten guards in the hospital. I haven't read her file yet but the steambird sure had decent coverage on it. Said she took them out with a dendro vision. If that's the case why wasn't she sent here as a precaution? That's what they do with dangerous prisoners. It's protocol so why wasn't it followed." I said curiously pouring Clorinde's tea and placing one cube in it.

I sat at my desk placing her teacup at the top of it. She stood up and shuffled through the files until she uncovered Ms. Silva's. Handing me the file she walked back towards that couch, taking her tea.

"Take a look and you will understand." She said.

"You know it's rude to rifle through someone's work desk," I smirked as I opened the file.

"Just read it, then we can proceed with the main reason why I am here." Clorinde huffed.

I started skimming the folder. There wasn't much on Ms. Silva. Her travel records show she came through the Chenyu vale of Liyue and was in Mondstat before that on a job for Dr. Baizhu of Bubu pharmacy in Liyue. She wrote down that her reason for traveling to Fontaine was research. That didn't explain much either.

"Weird how there is so little right, Wriothesley? Normally we would have all her information. We contacted Liyue, Sumeru, and Mondstat. They only have records of her traveling for research. We could only assume she's from Inazuma as her first record is a travel permit to  Liyue from Ritou. It was commissioned by an Ayato Kamisato. Every one of her permits is for research. Nuevillette asked me to bring the belongings from her hotel room and search through the items with you." Clorinde said taking a sip of the warm beverage in her hand.

I continued to read over the file and a note from Monsieur Nuevillette shocked me. I could hear his voice as I read the line.

"Ms. Silva was attacked and drugged using a potent Dendro drug that has been spreading like wildfire through the court of Fontaine. While there have been only a few deaths due to this drug. Ms. Silva has shown us that those with dendritic energy have a horrific effect on these drugs. A Dendritic energy overcharge causes a massive burst of the Dendro element dealing damage once the user is put under stress. What Ms. Silva told me has led me to believe that there is a tie between this drug and a dendro dragon. Keep an eye on her at all costs Wriothesley. Something tells me she will be the key to solving this case." His voice rang in my ears.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" Clorinde shouted snapping me out of my trance.

"Huh, oh sorry Clorinde. It's just Nuevillette's notes. They just have me a little on edge." I said setting down the file and picking up my now cooled tea.

"I was trying to say that you should be careful with regarding her. I just have a bad feeling, call it hunter intuition." She said setting her empty cup down.

"I will now let's get going through this stuff I'm sure Ms. Silva would at least like some of this stuff back. As long as it is appropriate for the fortress of course." I said prying open the wooden box.

As the box cracked open, I was met with a soft aroma. It reminded me of walking into a luxury tea shop in the city.  When the lid came off there was a multitude of sealed glass jars with many varieties of herbs. They seemed to be being kept fresh by cut mist flowers. I've seen the corollas being used but not whole flowers.

"So it seems she does not possess a vision after all," Clorinde said sifting through a small pile of folded clothes.

"There is a small silk pouch right here," I said picking up the purple purse, and with an unfortunate turn of events the contents spilled out.

"Letters and documents?" Clorinde said picking up the papers strewn about.

I glanced down and saw a lovely wax seal of a glaze lily on a golden letter, "What's this?"

"I have no clue. It must be important and it has been opened previously. Why don't you go ahead and read it?" Clorinde asked.

"Everyone has the right to privacy. In one sense or the other. I have no search warrant, so I won't read it." I said setting it down on her pile of documents, a smirk growing on my lips, "I'll ask her directly."

"And how do you plan on doing that? From what I heard from the guard who escorted her, she fell and passed out." Clorinde said crossing her arms.

"Did he now? Because from what Sigewinne has told me she had to of been shoved multiple times with relatively decent force. She was bleeding  when she fell right in front of me." I said with a slight growl in my voice.

One thing I detested among my staff was lying to higher-ups. I knew lying to prisoners was sometimes unavoidable, however, lying to me or a champion duelist would get my blood boiling. Clorinde stared at me with mild shock in her eyes.

"Sigh, I'll leave this to you then but your grace as a friend I have some advice for you." She said as she walked to the stairs.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked staring at the golden envelope.

"Don't forget Nuevillette's warning. That woman is a danger." I heard Clorinde say as she exited my office.

"Tsk. I can handle myself. This is Meropide. No newbie could cause that much of a distraction. Her sorrowful sleeping face came to my mind. Could she?

[hauntingkiki]

so! a little background/story about me; i’m in two choirs, and i’ve been doing choir for three years now, almost four, and on 5/7/24, we had an awards ceremony concert and I GOT AWARDED!!

so, this story is a little bit inspired about me getting said award and i hope you guys enjoy!:D

(also this is very catholic/religious so if this isn’t your ally then don’t read it!:3 and i apologize if i get anything wrong in this!! i wasn’t born into a catholic/religious household so im not very religious myself so again, i apologize if i get anything wrong! but please feel free to let me know if i messed up anywhere for future requests!)

Congrats, Newbie

Jack Merridew x Choir! Reader

Lord of the Flies

2nd POV

you pulled uncomfortably at the long, black cloak that dropped at your ankles, the frilly white ruffles ticked your neck awkwardly. sweat built up under your armpits and on your palms, making you lift your arms up to somewhat dry your underarms and wipe your hands on your shorts that were under your robe. you turned to one of the girls in your section, jerking your hands up and down with a slight head tilt. “does my uniform look okay?” you asked her softly, dropping your hands back at your side.

she hummed in thought, tapping her chin before fixing your black cap before adjusting the f/c rosary that hung from your neck. she pulled her hands away from your body, eyeing you up and down with furrowed brows. she turned to one of the nearby tenors, tapping his shoulder, she pointed over to you with a quirked brow, muttering to the tall boy.

you shuttered when you made eye contact with the light, icy blue eyes of the tenor which flickered around your frame before going back to your e/c eyes.

his bright, orange curls fought with his black cap that was centered perfectly atop his head. he had pasty skin, dark brown freckles coating every inch of his skin, some dark reds and the same brown color on his lips. he wore the same black robe and black cap like everyone else, but his uniform was slightly different. he had a golden cross stitched into the left side of his robe, indicating he was the leader of this group.

the group you were in.

you noticed his cloak shifting slightly at his waist, faint cracking snapped in the quite air. you put it together that he was popping his knuckles, a nervous habit you noticed he did during rehearsals, warm ups, and performances.

once he was done cracking his fingers, he lifted his hands out from under the black robe and he quickly dusted you off, making sure to not touch you in any weird way. “you should fix your makeup.” he quickly circled a finger in your face before grabbing your rosary and huffing on it, wiping his white button up sleeve across the metal to make it shine slightly more. “it’s creasing.”

your eyes fluttered wide, stumbling over your words, you struggled to find the right sentence. “how much time to i have?” you asked, slipping away from the ginger.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you!”

you jogged over to your makeup bag and snatched it, making your way over to a mirror not too far from where everyone else was. you zipped the bag open, hastily moving your makeup around before grabbing your powder and your brush. looking in the mirror, you opened the container before pausing with a slightly ajar mouth.

your makeup wasn’t creased.

you shook your head softly, cursing under your breath, as you gripped the brush tightly, your knuckles turning white.

“-and for our final chorus of the day; we’re going to have jack merridew and his choir sing; Hail Redeemer Kind Divine.”

your heart skipped a beat, snapping the container shut before dropping them back into the bag and running away from the mirror, you sucked in a breath as you watched merridew lead the choral onto the risers.

thankfully, he was busy giving a speech about the piece and what it meant to him, so you quickly ran over to the alto section just before they walked out from behind the curtains.

merridew turned and faced the risers once he was finished with his speech and applause echoed through the chapel. his brows knitted together when he locked eyes with you, the two of you holding eye contact while he walked to his spot on the fourth row. he only broke contact when the clinician coughed, gaining everyone’s attention as the hall fell silent.

the clinician turned to the pianists, waving her hands around before the piano started to play. the clinician; sister jane, turned back to the choir, muttering ‘one, two, three and-‘ before waving her hands around wildly with a loud inhale which made you all gasp before a beautiful harmony of voices boomed through the church hall.

“Hail, Redeemer King Divine!

Priest and Lamb, the throne is thine,

King whose reign shall never cease,

Prince of everlasting peace.”

you slowly glanced around your section as you all sung, smiling softly as you made eye contact with the other altos before turning back to sister jane as she continued to conduct.

“Angels, Saints and nations sing

'Praised be Jesus Christ our King;

Lord of life, earth, sky and sea,

King of love on Calvary.”

you glanced over to the right to look at the guys who were in the middle, your face flushed from any color as you locked eyes with those piercing blue eyes again. you didn’t know what do you in that moment, all you could do was keep singing and deal with it after the song.

“King whose name creation thrills,

Rule our minds, our hearts, our wills, Till in peace each nation rings

With thy praises, King of Kings.”

you swallowed thickly, a small pause in the piece which allowed you to turn away from merridew’s harsh gaze before everyone started to sing again.

“Angles, Saints and nations sing

'Praised be Jesus Christ our King;

Lord of life, earth, sky and sea,

King of love on Calvary.”

you crackled your knuckles from under your robe, fiddling with your thumbs as the song continued on.

“King most holy, King of truth,

Guide the lowly, guide the youth;

Christ thou King of glory bright,

Be to us eternal light.”

sister jane smiled as she conducted, leading the huge group of children and teens through the chorus once again.

“Angles, Saints and nations sing

‘Praised be Jesus Christ our King;

Lord of life, earth, sky and sea,

King of love on Calvary.”

you weren’t going to lie if you found the song kind of annoying. to be true, everyone in your choir-besides merridew-found all the songs your group sang were annoying. even some of the other kids from advanced groups thought some of the songs you all sang were annoying, but no one would say that to the directors.

“Shepherd-King. o’er mountains steep,

Homeward bring the wondering sheep;

Shelter in one royal fold

States and kingdoms, new and old.”

but today.

today was the day for 6 lucky people in every choir to move up to a higher level. obviously, everyone wanted to move up, but you had to put the work and effort into your piece in oder to move up.

“Angles, Saints and nations sing

‘Praised be Jesus Christ our King;

and of course, this only happens once a year.

Lord of life, earth, sky and sea,

King of love on Calvary.”

sister jane brought her hands closer together to create a decrescendo from everyone, signaling a cutoff when she seemed satisfied with the volume control. she smiled brightly over at everyone, dropping her hands at her side.

everyone in the crowd cheered and clapped, some of the older chorus members whistling loudly.

sister jane turned towards the crowd, bowing and extending an arm back towards you guys as you all bowed slightly.

the head priest made his way over towards the front of the stage, white slip of paper in hand as he tapped the mic, chuckling awkwardly as he cleared his throat, opening the paper as his eyes flickered from the 6 names listed down at the huge crowd in front of him. “let’s make this quick, shall we?” he joked, a few of the nuns chuckling.

you bit your lip, holding back a holler as your eyes scanned the room, locking back with jacks piercing eyes.

a faint smile was on his lips, also biting back a laugh at the failed attempt of a joke.

one of jacks friends; simon, stood behind him, his hands placed atop of the ginger’s shoulders. simon slightly leaned forward and smiled brightly at you, waving a finger in your direction which you returned with a closed eyed smile.

“okay.” the priest sighed, adjusting his attire before speaking again. “our six chorus singers who are moving up are…roger crawford, david shore, jackson hill, linsey shore, y/n l/n, and millie harrington.”

claps erupted through the hall again, the choir leaving the stage and soon everyone was out of the chapel and chatting out in the hallway, waiting for rides or wondering off.

you stood by the tall doors, waiting for your parents to arrive to pick you up. you gasped with a stumble, catching yourself with the door as you looked towards the culprit who punched you in the arm.

“congrats on the move up, y/n.” roger beamed slightly, rocking on his heels as he offered his right hand towards you.

you stared at him for a moment, snapping out of it before shaking his hand, faintly smiling. “oh! thanks, you too.”

he smiled, letting go of your hand. “we should probably get acquainted with one another; that way we’re not alone when we get into the new choir.” he suggested, tilting his head side to side.

you nodded, rubbing your neck. “yeah, that’ll be a good idea.”

roger smiled, turning to his left when he spotted auburn curls in the crowd heading over to the two of you.

jack made his way over to both of you, patting roger on the shoulder. “congrats, roger.” he smiled, slowly glancing over towards you. “and…congrats to you too, y/n.”

your eyes fluttered wide, your cheeks flushed a soft pink. you nodded, stuttering faintly. “t-thank you, merridew.”

simon appeared out of no where, throwing his arms around jack’s shoulders. “please! call him jack.” he reassured, smiling warmly towards you. “after all, we’re going to be friends, yeah?”

you nodded. “yeah, yeah we are.” you muttered.

simon beamed before waving his hands around as if to brush that conversation away. “anyways, jack, roger, maurice, and i are gonna hang out to-“ he pinched his pointer and thumb together, bringing them up to his lips whilst clicking his tongue. he quickly dropped his hand and went quite when one of the nuns walked past. once she was out of sight, he turned back to you with a smile. “you wanna tag along?”

your eyes sparkled, surprised that the top four boys in your choir were this rebellious. you expected the four of them to eat dessert before dinner or to skip brushing their teeth in the mornings before heading to school, but this was something completely different and you were all for it.

“of course.”

i hope you guys enjoy!:3 maybe i’ll do a part 2 of them all hanging out if you guys are interested???

[hedgestitcher]

Roll into our cross-stitch wonderland and discover patterns that are 'hedgehog-approved'! Whether you're a newbie or a seasoned stitcher, our e-shop offers designs to suit every level. From charming florals to cheeky critters, find your next project here. Get ready to create cross-stitch magic that'll leave everyone 'spiky' with awe!

[lilaco21]

Ssssoooooooo,

I tried a new thing!

This is my first ever cross stitch and I think I've found a new hobby?

I'm happy with how neat it is but I got the left ear a wrong lol

It took me longer than I thought it would but it was every enjoyable and it was nice to do something that doesn't involve a screen.

I have a few more patterns of pusheen to try, so I will maybe update in the future.

Btw, I found the whole kit in a Waterstones but I'm sure you can find the same pattern online if you want to give it a go!

[iokheaira]

Slight nitpick: you can do CERTAIN TYPES of fade/gradient in embroidery with specialty gradient dyed thread and/or optical mixing of 2-3 colours (thread painting/silk shading, or blended stitches in cross stitch). These typically don't have the same candy-gloss unreal filter as AI generated images do, though.

Also, in that cute hedgehog embroidery, the real version uses a standard number of strands, I think 2 (it's very well done too so it's sad the person is disappointed), but some modern embroiderers use the undivided thread with 6 strands, which is much thicker and would look closer to the AI image. You can even add padding, either base stitches or cut pieces of felt, under the surface stitches for a more 3D look (see also: stumpwork). A bigger problem is the unreal bright shine, which you might replicate with silk or viscose but then only in a very specific light... (And very long curved satin stitches without visible couching, but the hedgehog doesn't have those.)

I know of one example where the embroiderer spun the thread (2 ply merino/silk blend, about as much as you'd need for a mid-sized lace shawl) out of gradient-dyed fibre, resulting in very long colour progressions that you can't get in standard DMC/Anchor gradient (ombré) embroidery thread. (You could also dye commercial laceweight yarn to get that effect, but you'd need to adjust the lengths of thread you use to avoid fraying - the advantage of handspun is that you can add twist to make the thread more durable.) Oh, and what did she make with that thread? A Long Dog full size sampler!

The sampler in question:

https://www.instagram.com/p/DAOCx-lI38O/?img_index=1&igsh=azA3ZTV6OHBvYmhm

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A post shared by vampy (@fibresbyvampy)

What I'm saying is that expert-level work can create things AI can only dream of! The problem is that newbies who haven't been exposed to craft IRL and are only trying to learn via YouTube or Tiktok and get kits on Etsy or Temu can't easily judge what's easy and what requires mastery and/or inventing a new technique or specialty materials or equipment. What I hear about AI generated guidebooks is even worse - so beginners, look for old books and videos and learn about the craft before going on an Etsy shopping spree. If possible, meet real people or go look at real objects in resl life, whether at home, in a craft store, museum or county fair!

One pro tip, though: if the photo of the finished item looks like someone took it with their off hand in terrible lighting and there's a cat or a bag of Doritos or a pyjama leg or reflections of the glass museum/exhibition case holding the item in the image, it's probably real. (Fancy photo might mean the person used a filter or is a great photographer - or it might be AI. That's where you start looking for inconsistencies or implausible sections and whether the maker has explained the process in any way.)

Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.

[entervending]

Topic: Maximizing Profit with Mechanical Vending Machines

Maximizing Profit with Mechanical Vending Machines: A Comprehensive Guide

Are you looking to maximize profit with mechanical vending machines? You're in the right place! Whether you're a newbie or a seasoned pro in the vending business, this guide will give you the lowdown on selecting the right machines and products, finding the best locations, and keeping your machines in top-notch condition.

Choose the Right Machines and Products

The journey to a profitable vending business starts with the right equipment. Do you know that mechanical vending machines vary greatly? From gumball machines that dispense colorful gumballs to capsule machines offering toys in capsules, each option has its perks. How about a bouncy ball vending machine for that extra fun factor? The choice of products is just as crucial. Imagine a kid’s delight when they see hard candy, toys in capsules, or bouncy balls! The joy doesn't stop there; adults love these just as much, especially items like hard candy and capsule toy vending options.

Strategic Location: The Secret Sauce

Where you place your vending machines can make or break your business. High-traffic areas like malls, grocery stores, schools, and amusement parks are golden spots. Think of it as fishing; you want to cast your net where the fish are. The same logic applies here. High visibility and easy accessibility will draw more customers. Picture a gumball machine near the checkout counter at a busy supermarket — it's an impulse buy waiting to happen.

Stay on Top of Maintenance

Ever heard the saying, "A stitch in time saves nine"? This couldn't be truer for vending machine maintenance. Regular checks and timely replenishments keep your machines running smoothly and prevent coin-jam nightmares. Ensure you’re stocked up on essential vending machine supplies like gumball machine refills, candy dispensers, and other vending machine parts. With regular servicing, you'll guarantee that your machines are in prime condition, ready to churn out happy customers and even happier profits.

Marketing Tips and Tricks

Don’t underestimate the power of good marketing. Social media shout-outs, loyalty programs, and even signage near your machines can draw in crowds. You can also partner with local businesses for cross-promotions. It's all about visibility and making your vending machines the go-to choice for quick treats and fun surprises.

Analyzing Performance and Scaling Up

Keep track of which products and locations perform the best. Use this data to tweak your approach. Are capsule machines with toys in busy malls your top sellers? Or do bouncy ball vending machines earn you the most at family entertainment centers? Knowing this helps you make informed decisions to scale up and maximize profits.

Conclusion

So, are you ready to turn those mechanical vending machines into profit-making machines? The right mix of product selection, strategic locations, consistent maintenance, and smart marketing will pave the way for success.

For those looking to kickstart or expand their bulk gumball business, I highly recommend checking out Entervending for top-quality machines and supplies.

Click on Entervending to visit the website.

[rabbitindisguise]

I can't believe gridding a small cross stitch project is taking longer than it took to warp a small 12 dent loom (reader, this means almost two times as much work as usual since the standard for the rigid heddle looms is 7.5 dent)

worth it unfortunately :| I'm probably going to spend months and months on this project so this is going relatively fast in comparison and will save me time in the long run since this is technically optional. definitely keeping me humble though- last time I was at the weaving studio they were like "wow you're so fast" (probably to make me feel better? newbie ego boost? idk I appreciated it all the same) and now my cross stitch is like [skeptically] "uh huh. sure"

[stjamesmatriarchy]

Then when Azure returns home, she plants some of the fruits she bought from Agatha. Unfortunately, her watcher is a newbie at gardening and has planted fall fruits in spring. Never mind.

After that, Azure returns to her cross stitch (or rather, gets stabbed by her needle too many times) before settling down to watch some TV and scroll the internet for gardening advice.