#i just love hand crafting and i love sewing and fabric and embroidery

[giverofempathy]

just ordered another wild dyer book heheheehehehehe this is the best hobby in the world

[spamton-deactivated19970420]

i made a little hand-sewn beast based on everydayspamton's drawing & took it with me on a family roadtrip

if you'd like to make your own, i've included the [[FREE]] pattern & some rough steps below the cut, as well as an Educational Video

EDUCATIONAL VIDEO. THIS IS NATURAL SPAMFISH BEHAVIOR & IT IS NOT SCARED OR IN PAIN.

BEAST CRAFTING INSTRUCTIONS:

disclaimer: i'm an amateur & i've never tried making a pattern before, nor have i ever tried writing directions

materials you'll need:

sewing needle & pins

black thread & white thread

fabric in these colors - black, white, red, yellow, & pink

stuffing

(optional) a squeaker

notes:

for the thread, i suggest something thicker, like whats used for embroidery - i used two different thicknesses on mine, & i think the thicker one; (the black thread); stands out a lot nicer

for the fabric, i used craft felt. its nice because its cheap & malleable, but if you want something that can actually be washed & played with without disintegrating on you, don't use felt. different fabrics will have different results, though, & may not give you a clean-looking edge & lines

you can also just go nuts & use whatever colors of thread/fabric you want, make pattern alterations, whatever

if you make one, feel free to @ me, send an ask or DM me with it, i'd love to see!

^^^ here's the pattern!

now the actual steps?:

1.) download & print out the pattern - it should(?) fit normally across a regular sheet of printer paper. i don't have exact measurements, i eyeballed this whole thing & then lost the original pattern - (there's only a copy that i scanned & edited left on my computer. woops.)

2.) cut the pieces out. pin the patterns to the fabric color the instructions call for, & cut out the number you need for each

^^^ here's what you should end up with!

now the sewing! for this whole thing i used doubled-up thread & a 'running stitch', then went over it a secondary time with another running stitch to fill in the gaps. you could also try using a 'back stitch' (which i don't know how to do), but that might be tougher. the goal here is to give it an Outlined look, like a drawing

3.) with white thread, sew the pink & yellow eyes onto the glasses - pink is Left, yellow is Right. reference the image above if you're not sure!

4.) sew all the fins pieces together - on the black fin, use white thread; & on the white fins, use black thread. reference the pattern for the detailing. i made my own front fins 'wrong', but you don't really have worry too much about being exact

5.) overlap the Head pieces onto the Body pieces - making sure you have a Left and Right side! pin the heads to the bodies, & compare their lengths by holding them together to make sure you've got it right. sew the heads to the bodies using black thread. detail the head with black thread, & detail the body with white thread

6.) now that you've got the two sides of the body completed, you can hold them together to try to get even placement for the red cheeks. pin each cheek to each side, then sew them on with white thread

7.) using black thread, sew the pink glasses onto the Left side of the body, and the yellow glasses onto the Right side. they'll be slightly overlapping the cheeks

8.) with white thread, sew the front fins on to each side. NOTE: i put mine on wrong, & didn't realize until i was finished. for the 'right' placement on these (closer to the original drawing), reference the pattern, & not the images

you now have all your parts ready for assembly! for me, this is the hardest part. you'll need a bunch of pins - use the guidelines on the pattern and/or reference the below image to get the right placements

9.) pin in the back fin & the nose. leave some space on the bottom for stuffing when you start, & using black thread, sew together the nose & the fin unto the body - the fin should be sandwiched Between the two body halves

10.) pin in the tail fin. continue sewing down the back with the black thread, & sew the tail fin in - once again, it should be Between the two body halves

11.) pin in the back fin between the halves. continue with the black thread, sew along the tail & sew the back fin in - Stopping once its secured. you should have some good space still open on the belly

12.) time for stuffing. using something thin, but not sharp - like a chopstick or the back of a crochet hook - & push stuffing into the nose & tail portions. stuff the head about halfway. now, if you have a squeaker, put it into the widest part of the head, & stuff a little around it

13.) still using the black thread, sew the belly up a little more so its easier to keep the stuffing in, & then fill up the rest of the body. once fully stuffed, sew the remaining hole together

14.) congrats! you now have a spamfish. if you opted for a squeaker, squeak it thoroughly

don't worry if it's not exact, some individual variation is fun & makes your creature unique! mine has upside-down front fins with upside-down detail lines

here's the thing with some friends i had made a little bit before him. have fun with your beast!

i am not liable for any damage it causes to you or your property

[freyaphoria]

I see the request is back to open AAAAA!

lately I've been imagining if mingi is good at sewing and it's his soft side (because I saw the FIX ON stuffs and wondering if he produces the stuff by himself), so he had a crush with yn but he is to shy to say it. when he saw yn kissed by his best friend yunho he became so madly jealous and feel guilty because he can't blame his best friend and got mad to yn instead.

by the next day he saw yn and yn is smiling at mingi as if nothing happened.... he wonders if those pretty lips could smile only at him, by sewing yn's lips.

Broken Doll

tw: dark fic!!!! Yan!Mingi, kidnapping, stitches, fainting, blood, kissing, obsessive behaviors, mingi is sooo delulu loll, restriction with handcuffs (let me know if I missed something)

wc: 2.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @hwxbibi (dm me if you want join the taglist)

Mingi stood in the dim light of his room, taking in the sight of his latest creation one final time. His fingers carefully traced the last knots and ties of the thread he had worked so diligently to secure. He let his eyes linger on the hoodie he had meticulously sewn just for you, its fabric soft and inviting, featuring his signature stitched phrase "fix on" that had become a signature of his work – it was the 47th item he had lovingly sewn with you in mind. With a careful motion, he folded the hoodie and placed it gently into the wardrobe he had designated exclusively for your clothes. Inside the closet, various dresses, t-shirts, skirts, coats, hoodies, and many other clothes were waiting, all sewn by him to fit your body and style perfectly. Mingi often daydreamed about the moment he would summon the courage to present these lovingly made items to you, to see you adorned in the clothes he had crafted with his own hands.

His eyes scanned the collection, trying to find which piece stood out as the most exquisite. If he were to gift you one tomorrow, which would be worthy of such an honor? Mingi's hand glided along the hangers, his fingertips brushing against the various fabrics. Despite the perfection he strived for in each garment, his eyes found minute imperfections in every piece. After careful consideration, he decided that the hoodie he had just completed would be the ideal first gift. It represented his most recent work, showcasing the refinement of his skills over time. The choice of your favorite color for the fabric and the elaborate embroidery of his "fix on" signature – a signature he had been incorporating into his creations for years – made it particularly special. The timing seemed perfect as well. With the weather turning cooler, gifting you the hoodie would allow him the pleasure of seeing you wear it. The thought of you wrapped in his handiwork sent a shiver of excitement through him.

This hoodie was not just a piece of clothing; it was a lasting impression of his feelings for you. He resolved that he wouldn’t postpone any longer; the next day would be the day he would finally tell you how he felt and present the hoodie to you. He had to stop his growing admiration for you from reaching a dangerous level, and the best way to do that was to tell you that he loved you.

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The following day, Mingi arrived on campus, his nerves frayed with anticipation. In his hands, he clutched the carefully wrapped gift, a physical manifestation of his affection. His body betrayed his anxiety – hands trembling, breath coming in short gasps, eyes heavy from a sleepless night spent rehearsing what he would say to you. As he scanned the familiar surroundings, he noticed something unusual: Yunho, his best friend and constant companion, was nowhere to be seen. This absence struck Mingi as odd. He and Yunho were practically inseparable, and it was unlike his friend not to check in with a simple "where are you?" message. As he walked, Mingi pulled out his phone and attempted to call Yunho, but there was no answer. His heart lowered slightly, as he could have used his friend's support and advice in this moment. Approaching the cafeteria, a familiar spot where they often met, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He called Yunho again, hoping for a response, but what happened before him made his heart drop.

There, right in front of him, was Yunho, completely engrossed in a passionate kiss with you. You both looked so lost and passionate; Yunho’s hands were on your waist and your hands were tangled in Yunho’s hair. It took a moment, but when you caught sight of him standing there, your surprise registered on your face, and you instinctively pulled away from him; confusion clouded Yunho's face as he turned, suddenly locking gazes with his stunned friend.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged through Mingi – shock, betrayal, anger, and heartbreak collided within him. Despite the turmoil, Mingi didn't blame Yunho; after all, he had never told Yunho about his love for you. Yes, Yunho knew he was in love with someone, but Mingi had never said it was you. He didn't blame Yunho; if Yunho had known that Mingi was in love with you, he would never have done such a thing, Mingi was sure of that. All of Mingi's hurt and anger, therefore, became focused solely on you. Hadn't he made it clear before that he liked you? In his mind, he had made his feelings abundantly clear – the smiles, the shared class notes, the daily greetings. He believed his actions had spoken louder than words, making a formal confession almost unnecessary. But you, like a whore, had kissed his best friend, Yunho. Slut. How could you do this to Mingi? Despite all the clothes he had specially sewn for you, despite the masterpieces he had spent hours on, you had chosen his friend. Mingi could never forgive this.

You pulled away from Yunho's lips and smiled at Mingi. You fucking smiled. This had to be a joke, or Mingi must be having a terrible nightmare. Like a slut, you had cheated on him with his friend and then smiled to his face. That smile, which he had once found so endearing, now seemed to mock him. Mingi immediately left the cafeteria with growing anger and disappointment inside him and locked himself in the bathroom.

Of course, you and Yunho didn't understand what had happened. Mingi was just a friend to you, you had liked Yunho for weeks, and it was obvious that Yunho liked you too. Why had Mingi suddenly gotten angry and left? "Baby, let me check on Mingi." After Yunho kissed you one last time, you nodded, and with Yunho's leaving, you were left alone in the cafeteria.

Mingi's phone kept ringing with Yunho's missed calls, but Mingi didn't answer any of them. He wasn't angry at him; he just didn't know what to say to him. Mingi valued their friendship too much to risk saying something in the heat of the moment that he might later regret. You were the only one to blame here. You had gotten close to Yunho while Mingi was around, and on top of that, you had smiled at Mingi as if nothing had happened. A dark thought began to take root in his mind – you needed to be punished for the pain you had caused him.

Normally, Mingi wouldn't have kidnapped you; he had thought about it before and wanted you to fall in love with him on your own and live with him willingly, but after this, Mingi was going to kidnap you and punish you.

He stuffed the gift he had carefully prepared and wrapped for you into his bag and headed towards the parking lot, where the cameras had broken down long ago but no one had fixed it.

Yunho searched for Mingi everywhere in the college, called him countless times on the phone, but there was no sound from Mingi. When he realized that his class was about to start, he gave up and decided to stop by Mingi's house after class.

Mingi waited for your class to end, like a lion lying in ambush, beside your car, waiting for you without being seen by anyone. When he finally spotted you walking alone towards the parking lot, a momentary pang of guilt struck him. You looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the turmoil raging within him. But in his twisted logic, he pushed aside these feelings, convincing himself that his actions were justified.

Mingi's pent-up emotions exploded in a moment of brutal force as he ambushed you from behind. The sound of your head repeatedly hitting the car echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He was hitting so fast that you were sure you would die there. Before you could even process what was happening, darkness engulfed you, and Mingi took your car key that had fallen from your hand, opened your car, seized the opportunity to bundle you into your own car. After making sure he hadn't left any traces behind, he got into the driver's seat. "I did this because you made me angry. You have to pay for what you've done." Mingi? This name flashed in your mind. The voice belonged to Mingi. But why would Mingi do this to you? Mingi's voice sounded very distant, as if you were in a glass jar and hearing the outside muffled. You tried to move your hands, but they were very heavy. When he started your car, you stopped resisting and closed your eyes.

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When your eyes fluttered open, a wave of numbness enveloped your entire body, leaving you disoriented and struggling to piece together your surroundings. You racked your brain for any memory of what had transpired, but found only a disconcerting void. There was an echo of a sound that faintly resonated in your ears, reminiscent of an engine's hum, yet softer and more persistent, like a background murmur that wouldn't fade away.

Your hands were tied firmly to something on either side, and as you tried to shift them, a feeling of helplessness washed over you. The bright white light that flooded your vision was blinding, making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open for more than a fleeting moment. Attempts to speak or scream were futile; your mouth felt as if it were encased in a thick fog of numbness. You couldn't even muster the strength to part your lips or form the words that desperately wanted to escape.

As your vision slowly clears, you make out the silhouette of someone, a man hunched over a desk. And that annoying sound that was constantly piercing your brain was coming from there. You wanted to open your mouth and tell him to stop that, but both your mind was very tired, and your mouth was numb; you couldn't feel your lips, tongue, or teeth. The figure paused their work, momentarily silencing the continuous sound, and you watched as he picked up a pair of scissors from the cluttered desk, his movements deliberate yet mysterious. When he lifted his head, revealing a piece of fabric that lay in his hands, clarity began to creep in—you realized he was sewing something with a sewing machine. But confusion clouded your thoughts.

But why? Why were you here, and why was he sewing something here? Did you know him? Your mind was very foggy; you tried to come to your senses, but it was very difficult. A flicker of recognition stirred within you. You felt a sense of familiarity toward the person, although his name eluded you. Min... It started with an 'M.'

"So you're awake, doll," the figure spoke, getting up from the chair and making his way towards you. As he approached, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. "I didn't think you'd sleep for such a long time; I thought you were dead." He crouched down to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker. "How do you feel?" he asked, his hand brushing softly against your head, yet the touch felt unsettling. You wanted to say you felt disgusting, but your lips didn't move. He got up from where he was crouching and sat next to you on the soft bed you were lying on. "It's silly of me to ask you questions and expect you to answer," you didn't understand what he was talking about. You were getting more and more silent, and the pain in your head had reached a noticeable level. You wanted to moved your arms, but cold metal handcuffs on both sides prevented you. Panic was progressively spreading through your veins, and your irregular breathing was the only sound filling the silent room.

He gazed at you for what felt like an eternity, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "You look very beautiful," he said, a statement that should have brought warmth but instead sent a chill down your spine. As he reached out toward you, an instinctual urge to pull back surged within you, but the energy to do so eluded you. His fingers brushed against what you thought were your lips, a gentle caress that you couldn’t feel, leaving you in an unsettling state of numbness. "First, let me remind you why you're here," he continued, his voice smooth yet sinister. "I've loved you for a long time, I admire you, but you, like a whore, went and kissed my best friend. That's why I kidnapped you."

Mingi.

The name jolted your memory back to fragmented moments; flashes of laughter, stolen glances, and the painful realization that he harbored feelings for you. Confusion wrestled with disbelief as he spoke, all while a smile danced on his lips, his fingers still trailing along your face. The smile was disarming, but it contrasted sharply with the surreal horror of the moment. You suddenly felt a wave of panic when his hands moved down to your clothes. You were even more confused when you noticed that your outfit had completely changed. The new clothes were made of a fabric you didn't recognize, and a deep sense of dread set in as you looked down at them in shock. As you were trying to look at yourself in surprise, Mingi spoke. "Ah, do you like your new clothes? I sewed them. I made them all carefully to fit your body perfectly." Due to the increasing panic, your head was starting to spin, and you were slowly regaining consciousness.

You wanted to shout at him, curse at him; you wanted to ask why you were here, tell him to let you go, but you couldn't open your mouth and speak, as if your mouth was numb like in a nightmare. "I also sewed something else; would you like to see it?" His question hung in the air, and you could only manage a slow shake of your head, a silent plea for him to stop. The handcuffs biting into your wrists were relentless, the tightness a stark reminder of your captivity, and a numbness was beginning to creep into your fingers.

Mingi excitedly stood up, walked a bit in the room, and took a large mirror in his hand and approached you again. As you were about to try to pull back in fear, you saw your own reflection in the mirror.

Was that thing you saw really you? It was as if you were seeing a film frame from a banned torture movie. What you saw was so foreign to you that you couldn't even react at first. Your lips were sewn together, meticulously stitched up like a doll, swollen and bloodied, thick threads crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern that held them shut, and gave a smiling expression.

This couldn’t be real. You felt the numbness in your lips, yet the sight before you defied all comprehension. Your mind raced; how could this be happening? Surely you would feel something if your lips were truly sewn shut. But right now you felt nothing.

"How is it? Do you like it?" Mingi's voice sliced through your panicked thoughts, his expression filled with a sickening delight. You tried to respond, to express the intense horror consuming you, but your voice betrayed you, silenced in this waking nightmare. "I sewed your lips because you smiled at someone other than me, because you talked to him, and because you kissed him. You belong to me, only me." A small sound escaped from your throat, a pathetic echo of your horror. Mingi’s smile broadened, but it was devoid of warmth, a chilling reminder of the depths of his obsession.

"Broken toys need to be repaired, don’t they? You were broken too, doll, very broken." He lowered the mirror, closing the distance between you, leaning in with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "So I repaired my most beautiful toy by sewing it.” You started to shake and felt like you couldn't breathe. “You can just smile at me." Just as Mingi was about to approach your lips and kiss you, he was interrupted by the familiar ringing of his doorbell.

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a/n: Hello! If you read this far, thank you, you were not bored lolll. I would be very happy if you could give me feedbacks!❤️❤️❤️

[ghouldtime]

I just followed you based solely on an ask you responded to because I very much vibe with a Ghost who walked into a craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

I'm a proud 'Simon "Ghost" Riley is just A Dude ©' Truther

I love seeing that where he is just living a nice domestic life. I usually write spooky AU's or things with the paranormal but he's always just a dude there too, I like keeping him like that!!

To me, I can never look at him flat on and agree with the version of Ghost that people usually write (no shame to those who do, keep doing whatever makes you happy - it's not personal it's just not my taste) where they make him this ultra edgelord dommy sigma guy where he's always somehow towering over EVERYONE, growls every word, and is just???? That version viscerally reminds me of my early wattpad days or those rlly weird thirst trap biketoks

Like, have you LISTENED when this man speaks? Have you heard his jokes? His sense of humor that he doesn't hide??? Give me the dad jokes, give me the terrible puns that would make you give him a significant side eye if you heard them as his shoulders shake with the laughter he's trying to hold back !!!

Soap implied he made his masks and he probably would have to to make sure that hey, this isn't something flammable. I don't think he'd just buy something that personal to him. Which means he would have to sit down and pull out the paint kit, pull out the Dremel, and get to work

THAT MEANS he has to go buy the art supplies. He has to go shop for them and browse the aisles of paint, holding up two of the bottles, determining if he would rather have Eggshell white or Ivory. And I'm convinced that yes, he knows there's a difference and he'll insist on it and NO it's not the same shade

He sews, he has to. He HAD to have made his mask. Sewing is also a super practical skill when you're out on the field and it helps improve dexterity and coordination so I'm going to say it's likely he does. Sewing is super cool y'all.

So I implore you to imagine him in the fabric store, trying not to get distracted by the seasonal prints or the really ornate shimmery fabrics that you can't help but to look at. I refuse to accept that he hasn't sewn pillows in his house just because he liked a certain fabric and wanted to use it

And I'm going to say he's made a god awful holiday themed mask. It's simultaneously the most ugly thing you've ever set eyes upon and the greatest thing ever too. He's committed to the bit

He's also picked up embroidery because, like sewing, it helps improve your dexterity and keeps your hands busy. It's also practical because how else can people steal your things or confuse them if there's a tiny ghost embroidered on the hem????

He's just a guy and I love imagining Ghost with actual domestic hobbies, being himself, living his life (falling into the trap we all do at some point of going into an art store and finding something interesting to do)

Just A Dude© Ghost is my favorite and I'll never let him go

[nondivisable]

Hi! I just saw your post about crocheting even though your hands hurt, and was hoping for some advice. I've had some sort of unspecified spondyloarthropathy for about 16 years, so I'm used to dealing with feet and knees and shoulders but all of a sudden it's in my hands too, and I'm terrified. Putting aside that I'm a musician and this threatens my livelihood and independence, I can't stand the idea that it's going to take away 90%of the things I do for fun, aka crafting. What do you do to keep crocheting through the pain -- or, even better, do you have any tips for working around it? Special hooks I can look for? I knit too, have you gotten into that enough to have needle or pattern recommendations? Do you do any sewing? I'm looking for help, but mostly I'm looking for hope.

if this makes little sense I'm sorry, I've had a migraine all day but I wanted to answer and not forget. I'll edit this later if it's necessary

compression gloves are the actual love of my life. they help my finger joints so much. kt tape as well, my shoulders start to kill me, specially when I started knitting.

for crochet, I know some people put tennis balls on the grips of their hooks to make them more ergonomic. there's also ergonomic hooks but I haven't tried them yet.

knitting: I usually hold my needle and knit (as in move the yarn) with my right hand. I find that this gives me cramps in my shoulder and hand. moving my yarn with my left hand and holding my needle with my right helps me relax both my hand and shoulder, as well as keep a straighter back. knitting is also way easier on my hands than purling since we're at it.

sewing: I absolutely love it, my joints don't. for sewing patches or smaller bits of fabric onto another what really helps me is keeping the fabric taut using an embroidery ring. it helps me make less of an effort with my hands. if you don't have a sewing machine but are looking to buy one, don't buy one of those small, portable ones. I did and I never use it because between having to squint my eyes and manouever with my hands, my body detests it

finger knitting is also really fun to keep your hands busy. if I'm having a really bad pain day but feel restless, I'll usually grab a thick yarn and make a finger knit panel. it can take me hours to finish a small square but it's quite pain free and makes me happy

collage is such a fun technique if you like drawing and painting but find that your hands are kind of failing you. for me, at least, it helps take off the pressure of having to make a neat, clean piece of art , you know

mostly, remember to stretch, take breaks, drink water, be kind to your body. there's no shame in doing your hobbies in bed, laying down, or in ways that aren't necessarily "pretty" or functional; it's okay to do your hobbies for the sake of having fun with them

hope this has helped you and not extremely confuse you <33

[camelcasebestcase]

crafting asks: 5, 6, 11!

5. anything you have made that you hated?

I once knitted a sleeveless cardigan out of leftover yarn of several colours with large seed stitch diamonds that just turned out super disappointing. It took forever, was boring to knit, and when finished was a little bit too small for me. I ended up donating it.

6. anything you made that you loved?

I love most of the things I've made, so I took a picture of some hightlights.

The first thing I knit (apart from some practice squares that are lost to time), at age 16-17 (it took that long lol), was a 3 meter 4th doctor scarf. I would even work on it between classes at school. You can see where I started, because there's a bunch of dropped stitches there, and one botched colour change, and on the other end my knitting had become so much more even. I couldn't get all the colours from the same brand, so I went to different shops and bought all kinds of different yarns - that's why the edge is so wobbly, there's a lot of different weights!

It looks decent and it taught me so much, I'll always cherish it for that reason, though I rarely wear it anymore because it's impractical.

The sweater is from 2021. Kind of a 10 years of knitting anniversary! It's pure wool (A sheep and alpaca blend if I recall correctly) and very warm. I don't love the cold, but I love that I can wear this sweater when it's cold! It's part of why I often have to turn up the heat a bit for guests in winter... I used a standard drops sweater pattern for the shape of the sweater, and came up with the colour pattern myself. The collar is kinda improvised, but I like how it turned out. I love working with colours, thought recently I have been branching out into doing more with cables too. I calculate how many stitches I have, figure out whether I can divide that by something like 16 or 20, and then draw out patterns until I find something I like on 5 mm paper.

I carved the symbol into the prayer bench when I volunteered in Taizé, a religious community in France which organizes retreats for particularly young people. It's my rendition of the orange origami boat, the symbol of the German pro-refugee movement (I don't think it's used as much anymore). Before I was in Taizé, I volunteered in a women's center for refugees in Greece for half a year. Nowadays my pro-refugee activities mostly consists of donating. If you want to help, considering donating to action for women, offene arme, equal rights beyond borders if you want to support the small organizations whom I have personally seen doing amazing work, or doctors without borders if you prefer an org with a wider scope who also does great work there.

The potholders are the first and so far only thing I quilted- they are completely hand-quilted from thrifted fabrics, and I love how they turned out. I now have a sewing machine, and yesterday a friend got it to work, so there's gonna be a lot of quilting in my future I hope!

The shirt is bought, but I embroidered the flowers with perl cotton. I had done some cross-stitch before, but this was the firs time I did this kind of embroidery. I based the flowers on the drawings of the herbs in pathologic 2, and used some instructional videos on youtube to figure out how to stitch them.

11. best thing about [your craft] is?

I mostly knit, but what I like in any craft is to make things that are are both pretty and can be used. And I can make exactly what I want! Of course, with literally *all* of these, there are things that could be improved. With everything I make, I reflect on what I made before, and change how I do it. But while everything I make is flawed, it's already great for just existing. It's fun to make things, and it's fun to use things I have made. The options are endless.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

In my ongoing effort to conquer every fiber-based craft, tonight I made myself a sashiko-style palm thimble using this tutorial from Xiaoxiao Yarn. (Mine is a bit more colorful than hers, mostly because I love purple and I have so, so much embroidery floss.) It's made of denim that I harvested from a pair of thrifted jeans--the ring portion is a section of the hem, and the thimble itself is made with four circles of fabric cut from just above that. It's very comfortable! Looking forward to using it as I work on learning both sashiko and general hand-sewing for garments.

[wakinguponsaturday]

Almost a year to the day after first asking @its-sixxers if I could print out and bind Half Light (after figuring out how one actually does that), I've finally finished it!!!

She's 825 pages long, has some of the early pages warped from glue, and blood (?) staining the text block, and I am so excited to fall in love with Nines and Mary all over again. Thanks for letting me do this, it's been a really rewarding project and I got a new hobby out of it!!!

Please go read Half Light and everything else Six has written, she is immensely talented. Mary is my favourite character in Bloodlines bar none and reading her story endeared me to VTMB when the game itself did not. Six's Fallout works are also masterpieces, and I haven't checked out her newer stuff with Elder Scrolls but I fully intend to because even if I've never touched a Skyrim game in my life, I know I'm going to adore it too!

More info about the process under the cut.

SeaLemon was an invaluable resource starting out here because I barely know how to sew and I had no idea how to approach the actual construction of a book. I'm gonna plug her right off the bat because she's very beginner-friendly if anyone else wants to learn.

But before all of that I had to format everything in Word! Chapter by chapter I copied the text over from the downloadable PDF from AO3 and would scan through the fic to ensure the formatting was correct (italicization, bolding, paragraph breaks, etc). I'd do this for about an hour at a time over the course of a couple months, until I decided to do the rest of it all at once after one March night at 10PM where I decided to learn how to bind it all, because fuck it, why not. (Answer: I was freaked out about my upcoming departmental talk and this seemed like a good distraction).

Printing all of it just on regular printer paper (don't know if I'd do that again in the future, but it's what I had on hand) it ended up being 52 signatures, or collections of 16 pages (4 pieces of paper) folded in half. Pierced holes in all of those using an awl and an old phonebook to hold the pages open, and then used my old embroidery thread to sew them together. This part took me maybe two days because I was just so damn pumped about it lmao. I also don't have any kind of bookpress to weight down the pages, so I had made due with old textbooks and MCAT prep material.

It stayed this way for LITERAL MONTHS as I gathered all the other supplies - chipboard and brushes from my local craft store, PVA glue online, and by far the hardest part was fabric. I've since learned that you can make your own fabric using book cloth and basically anything you want (if I had known this book would have been coated in red silk I swear) but for now I just wanted to be sure it was something designed for this purpose, as the woman at Fabric Land assured me it needed something specialized. So binder's buckram! Took a while to find something local and the color selection was pretty limited, I was hoping for a dark red or a dark blue but the green was the best they had in stock. Took even longer to get here. And by that point I had enough going on that it fell by the wayside until uh.... last week.

I glued the spine, again realizing that maybe I should've just made my own bookpress but powering through with textbooks to hold things in place, and let that sit for a couple days to fully dry. Ideally it would be flat, but beggars cannot be choosers. Gave her a lil ribbon too.

Not pictured because I forgot, the final text block with black construction paper glued to it to form the inside cover (would probably use something thicker/crisper in the future, something more like cardstock perhaps?). But then it came to putting the cover together! And that was just cutting chipboard to fit and gluing it correctly onto the fabric, leaving gaps around the spine.

Let that dry, and then I glued the text block in and let everything sit for just over 24h, again with makeshift weights to prevent the fabric warping (it's the second book from the bottom).

And then tada! Finished book! (This one's from before it was pressed but it looks the same now)

All in all extremely cool to hold in my hands and I look forward to the next fic that makes me this insane. If I get permission to do The Sun Is Now Fading I might take a crack at that and make a little set! Follow your dreams and one day you too will be able to take notes in the margins of your favourite Vampire the Masquerade fic.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Huntlow Christmas Snippets

So the original plan was to have this human realm series finished and posted in time for Christmas, but then a whole bunch of stressful life stuff got in the way, so for now, please enjoy this little Christmas themed huntlow snippet! Happy Christmas, Huntlow Fam! 💛💚

Sneak Peek from Being Human | Chapter Eight: Winter's Waltz

The living room is a war zone of ribbons and wrapping paper as everyone tears into their presents, getting distracted halfway through when Camila puts on her favorite Christmas music and Luz endeavors to turn the evening into Grom Part 2, sweeping into a low bow and asking a giggling, blushing Amity to dance. Hunter is so swept up in the mayhem of watching the two of them laugh and spin one another in the glimmer of the Christmas lights, he almost doesn't register the Willow-shaped silhouette hovering next to him, offering him her hand.  "May I have this dance?" she asks, fairy lights glinting off the lenses of her glasses, igniting them in a golden glow. "Oh, uh— yeah. Yes. Absolutely," he stutters, barely a moment to stagger to his feet before he's swept away in Willow's arms.  Hunter has never danced in his entire life, but Willow is a marvelous lead, the comforting weight of her hand pressed between his shoulder blades, soft plush fingers curling over the palm of his hand, heat hotter than the flames in the fireplace as she draws him closer and instructs him to place his other hand on the small of her waist. Just when he thinks he's finally got the moves down, Willow surprises him by twirling him around in a circle and then dipping him backward on the catch, safe in her strong, gentle hands as his whole world spins upside down in a blur of green and gold.  And then she's pulling him back up toward her, lips parted in a wide smile, breathless laughter rushing out of the both of them as their chests heave from the exertion, and all Hunter can think as he gazes into her bright green eyes are three simple words. Oh. Wow. Dancing. Well. Maybe those aren't the only three words he's thinking.

It's nearing midnight by the time everyone heads off to bed, shuffling off to their respective rooms with barely stifled yawns and sleepy smiles, leaving Hunter and Willow alone in the living room, sitting side by side, curled up by the fire.  Evidently they'd both had the same idea, not wanting to give the gifts they'd gotten each other in front of everyone else. Without a word, the two of them reach behind opposite sides of the tree and withdraw two packages — one wrapped up pristinely in red and gold striped paper, the other a mess of ripped green wrapping paper and far too much tape. Ever since their lessons, Hunter has developed a love for sewing, but Willow had no idea he'd gotten this good. When Willow unwraps her gift, a neatly-folded letterman jacket with the words captain stitched across the back in bold white lettering spills out onto her lap, handmade from the coziest green and gold fabric she's ever felt beneath her fingers.  Little swatches of embroidery line the lapels and the arms of the jacket — wildflowers, bumblebees, cardinals, hearts, and stars — and in the very center right over the heart, a miniature rendering of a flyer derby field complete with goals posts and green and purple flags. Willow spreads her hands over it, amazed by all the carefully crafted details. This must have taken him weeks to complete. "This is amazing, Hunter. Thank you so much, I love—" she says, slipping the jacket over her shoulders and marveling at how perfectly it fits her, gazing up at him with a radiant smile on her face, only to find him staring back at her, looking awestruck. Clutched in his hands are two different gifts she couldn't decide between — one, a hand-knitted sweater made from that same cozy yellow yarn he'd fallen in love with the first time they'd gone to the craft store together, complete with a little breast pocket for Flapjack to nap in — and two, a brand new pair of handsome leather gloves, similar enough to his old pair to provide that same level of comfort and safety to a set of scarred, sensitive hands, but different enough so that he no longer has to be reminded of Belos, of being the golden guard every time he looks down at his own hands. "I hope you like them," she says in a small voice, suddenly feeling nervous. "The cardinals along the sides there are hand-stitched. I tried to make them look as much like Flapjack as I could, but—" "They're perfect. You're perfect," he says, rushing forward to wrap her up in a hug, tucking his chin against the curve of her shoulder and breathing her in in a series of slow, steady breaths. "Merry Christmas, Hunter," she says, voice muffled as she melts into the hug, face buried in the cozy fabric of his sweater. "Merry Christmas, Willow," he says, voice almost too soft to catch over the steady crackling of the fireplace.

[gravehags]

impera ghouls' fav art medium bc I just dropped out of art school lmao I hope I didn't forget anyone (I kinda went overboard so it's a long one sorryyyy)

- Mountain's kinda obvious, but he really likes working with natural materials. Enjoys woodworking and land art. Despite his size, has very deft hands and is extremely delicate. Makes a trip to the farm each season to get some beautiful fresh and golden hay to weave it into ornaments and jewelry. And let me tell you that's a testimony to his skill cause I literally cried over hay last October and I had to soak it in water to be able to bend it. The texture was disgusting and I got destroyed at the critique anyway lol

- I've already said it before, but Cumulus is totally into stamp carving and linocuts. 11/10, very calming, probably has rough hands since you have to use lots of white spirit to get the ink of off the lino, and you gotta use a special rough scrub to get ink out of your skin. Puts her creations everywhere, gives you and the ghouls little cards and patches she printed herself :)

- Cirrus and Sunshine probably share the serigraphy workshop. It's a very delicate craft, especially when you go for traditional paper stencils. But worry not, ghoul claws are sharper and more precise than your average cutter. Though, a intricate multi-colored stencil implies there's a lot of drying time involved, especially on fabric. They always have some kind of brunch during that time, with tea and snacks and such. Invite you to join them if you happen to pass by. (it's them who print the merch I know it)

- Aether makes very cool metal sculptures. He's got both the strength and the patience for it. You know those adorable little bird-shaped garden ornaments made from scrap metal ? Yeah he did some because the local old ladies are always commissioning him to make them. Also the workshop's babysitter, has to keep on eye on Swiss and Dew when they start beefing with a circular saw on their hands.

- Rain is very skilled in needlework. Originally considered himself a better painter, since he's got a sharp eye and is good at color theory, but discovered all the ways you can use embroidery and sewing with an artistic approach during a workshop in his first year. Sewed a costume made out of dried orange peels and called it 'orange leather' once. Also interested in book binding. Will get snappy if the others call him a little grandma while he's embroidering.

- Phantom is a photographer, and a pretty good graphist as well. He's too shy to admit it, but he really does know how to present his work. Has the cleanest portfolio around, and is probably a huge perfectionist. I mean, perfectionism is kind of a must in art school but bug is an anxious wreck (give him a hug). Very gentle, handles the lenses and lights with lots of care. Mainly photographs landscapes and nature mortes, but enjoys taking portraits as well. Takes a lot of self-portraits and will very shyly ask you to pose for him. (I photographed myself as Judith in Klimt's Lilith II : Judith and Holofernes for an assignment and ngl would love to hold bug's head with my tits out on camera)

- Aurora makes little pop-up zines. It's a prefect way for her to give way to both her gentleness and chaotic nature. While pop-ups may look tedious to make, it's actually lots of fun, and you can get pretty chaotic with it too. Has a whole collection of patterned and textured papers, she made most of them. Probably has a 'cool paper stash' she hasn't touched because she doesn't want to 'waste them' and said paper is like Christmas wrapping paper from 2016 (it's me I'm guilty).

- Dew is more interest in contemporary art, especially sculpture. Little guy has no patience and likes to break stuff, I see it as a match made in heaven. Uses his fire ghoul abilities to burn different matters and experiment with them. Kinda see him as my friend who burnt a humongous quantity of human hair for a project. Was pissed no one cuddled him for two days because of the smell.

- Swiss is totally a performance artist. I mean, technically, all of the ghouls have a huge affinity with it, but Swiss especially. A big fan of contemporary composers like John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen, as well as Bahaus performance art. He likes to let loose, have fun exploring his body's and voice's capicities in an artistic light. Probably submitted some kind of sextape as a project, but it's okay because the professor likes provocative stuff.

- BONUS : all of them probably were nude models for the evening classes at some point. I haven't included anatomical study in the hcs because no one in their right mind would enjoy sitting on a stool and drawing Greek statues for 8 hrs straight, but none of them would mind being the models for the 2 hrs 6pm classes. Although they'll probably ask you for a massage afterwards because of how tiring it is to stay in the same position for so long.

-unhinged family anon

These are GORGEOUS omg thank you so much for sharing these they’re all so on point!! 🩵

[awkwardpasta004]

So I have been looking up how to do certain things for 3 big projects. I am someone who knows how to do a lot of things: textiles (everything from spinning yarn to weaving fabric to sewing clothes), ceramics, drawing, graphic design (literally my major), BUT I don’t know how to work with leather/ fake leather and idk how to book bind or how to make paper (for paper I have a general idea but I like to know the details).

My 3 big projects:

1. I want to hand make my ren fair costume (ik big task but my local faire isn’t until September/ October so I have time). Which includes sewing the clothes and any other fabric accessories. I’m also thinking of doing some embroidery for that. I plan on using air dry clay to make tiny mushroom pins to put in my hair.

2. What I have been calling my Dice Dragon bag of holding. I have the design for it in my head and I’m going to be putting it down on paper. I have a dice pouch idea and an outside pouch that has a removable flap. I also plan on being able to convert it from a back pack to a satchel. So I have my work cut out for me. This is where learning about leather working comes in.

3. I want to make hard back copies of the Andrew Lang color fairy books (the 12 books, I’ll go mad if I do the full 25). I plan on making sure his wife’s name is on those books as well cause she did a lot of work on those including translating them from a number of other languages and I want her on my covers. I’m also gonna be doing redraws of the original gilded illustrations so this project is gonna take me forever considering I’ve gotta first buy all 12 books (or maybe find pdf copies online and then I’ll get to have fun messing with the fonts on the inside pages), designing the covers, picking fonts, AND for the end pages I plan on making my own flower paper to match the colors of each book, so again alooooot of work.

I love to illustrate but I also love doing things with my hands so I’m excited to do all this. I am gonna need to clean out my big closet so I have a space to put all of the new tools and things that I’ll be getting. Man, I wish my job was just to craft things.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

I received a small sample of threads by Aurifil when I renewed a subscription to a quilt magazine last year. The first time I used the thread was for a friend's quilt (finished the top) and this stuff is phenomenal. Zero lint, strong stitches, sharp seams, no tangling, and fell in love with it. Buuuut this stuff isn't cheap. At all. I dream of having their entire collection of thread, but that's a long way down the road. This here? $160 Each spool has 1422 yards/1300 meters, which is nearly twice more than the spools of Gutterman I use (Gutterman is the best affordable thread Joann Fabrics offers IMHO).

For piecing, you want to use 50 wt thread with an 80/12 size needle. The larger the number for piecing thread, the more fine it is. 28 wt is really thick, 80 wt is very fine. The thread needs to fit the needle, or you'll end up with torn threads, tangling, and skipped stitches. For 50 wt, 80/12 is best.

For quilting, it depends on what kind of quilting you're doing and the look you want. Pearl Cotton is very thick and adds serious boldness, but you need an embroidery needle because the threads are too thick for a standard handsewing or quilting needle. The standard thread weight is 28 wt, which makes for a more visible bolder look than finer threads. I prefer variegated threads done with my machine because the tension never breaks the thread, whereas I end up breaking the thread when handquilting. Thread made for handquilting also tends to be stiff, and only tangles if cut too long (18 inches is recommended, but I tend to cut 24 inches). Using a thread wax, like Thread Magic, prevents tangling and bearding (batting coming through the sewing stitches), and it also makes the thread pass through the layers very smoothly.

My dream is to have Aurifil's enter 50 wt solid spools collection, and their entire 28 wt collection (which includes variegated) buuuut that's really expensive. I'm talking over $2k worth of thread. I'll be happy with just a collection of Aurifil's neutral colors 50 wt collection.

Here are the link to their full 28 wt threads. It's $1800 USD aka waaaaaay outta my price range.

Here's the link to their 50 wt collection of neutral colors. It's $160 USD, which is outta my price right as well.

My favorite, more affordable, brand for piecing and handquilting is Gutterman. 100% cotton, low lint, good color selection (when Joann Fabrics has it in stock), and 800 meters per spool. The dream, however, is Aurifil.

Here's a link to Aurifil's info website. You'll learn a lot about thread that way.

As for needles, this is what I use. I have enough needles to last several years. They're sharper the more well known brand Shmetz, and I absolutely love these.

[gabriellerudessa]

Arrival Celebration

I finished typing at 2 in the morning for Brazilians. Then things happened and I couldn't post it.

Now I can! Happy Arrival Celebration, Vyn Fandom, and Happy New Year to everybody else! Be with my watercolor and soft fanfic Prophetess x Tharaêl (almost 3k words, it was supposed to be short! *cries*)

This happens around nine months after the Rhalata questline, with Tharaêl and Arelyel already having found their way around each other. Hopefully I'll manage to write a longfic about these in detail lol (I started. Let's see were I go lol)

Anyway, hope you all like it! Cheers!

EDIT 5 Jan 2023: At my desktop, thank God. Corrected some typos and spacing and the wording of a phrase I hadn't noticed was weird. (posting this on my phone was crazy) You can read it on AO3 now if you prefer too.

Also, because of AO3, Titles! The one I choose comes from a line from the song "Taste" by Sleeping at Last.

(I almost named it Ricochet after the Starset song because it came up on my playlist as I started thinking of a title but TOO SAD)

What Light Tastes Like

The wood creaked and groaned and the wind howled outside the cave, sometimes overpowering her humming; still, the fire remained steady, illuminating the camp and her work, hands flying through the embroidery in progress.

She had to finish that night.

Barring a crippling injury, she would reach Ark the next day and it wouldn’t do for the gift to not be ready. Or she to lose for the second time the Arrival festivities. She was late enough as it was reaching the city on Arrival Day instead of before.

Cassiopeia, Sirius’ mother and a grandchildren of endraleans, would’ve had pulled her ears if Arelyel was late for Arrival in any of her ten years before the woman’s death.

Or finishing a gift so late.

As Arelyel understood now, gift giving wasn’t really a part of the Arrival Celebrations in Enderal, but she had loved the tradition that Cassiopeia had made a part of their lives. A spiced wine for Jespar, a treatise about the Order’s history for Calia, a scarf for Esme, even a dagger for Arantheal and herbs treatise for Yuslan… And some carefully chosen gifts for Constantine and Lishari and Sirius, buried by the side of a well-traveled path to be found by someone in need  –all dead, Sirius at the year before, but she had been unable to do the proper rite Cassiopeia had taught at the first Arrival she had spent in Enderal.

Only Tharaêl’s gift wasn’t ready. It took her ages to think properly of something, and obviously she had decided it should be something handmade.

It would make Cassiopeia proud. Arelyel had eight years when Sirius’ mother took her in, and for ten years had taught Arelyel so much – cook and sew and embroider and another dozen things from a gentler craft that Father had kept away from her hands.

Don’t. Think. About. Him.

A needle pinprick kept her in the present. She briefly stuck the finger in her mouth, just enough so blood wouldn’t mar the fabric.

In the lull of the work, she reached the bowl of wild berried and edible flowers she had gathered earlier with the other hand. Two lonely berries waited her.

Damn it, she had finished it already.

Sighing and praying for speed, Arelyel eat the last berries and went back to the embroidery.

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

Tharaêl threw a look at the scroll by the table at the door side, shook his head, and went back to mixing the meat stew.

The invitation had arrived one week ago.

Arelyel had been gone already two weeks before it, three now, resolving things fuck-knows where.

He was worried, a little bit, it was unusual for her to be away so long at a time and last one she had returned… Almost as bad as when he had started living with her. He didn’t want a repeat. The worst was that he had no way of truly reaching and warning her about the Arrival Celebration at the Sun Temple she, as the Prophetess, should go.

As it was, night was falling already, meaning such Celebration was starting, together with the festivities at the market.

Maybe she had forgotten it was Arrival Day. Not that surprising if she got stuck at a sunless place for days, as it was prone to happen.

Maybe it was better this way. The invitation said “scarlet garments”, and the only red clothes Arelyel owned were the Order’s uniform. He had seen then once, months ago, when he helped her clean the house, at the bottom of a chest.

The door burst open, bringing with it a biting cold and some snowflakes. And Arelyel, armored robe dripping water and snow and bits of ice covering it in places.

“Malphas’ balls, when Ark got this cold?!” Tharaêl left the stew to close the door as Arelyel put her bursting backpack down, teeth chattering and skin cold-burnt.

“It was worse yesterday.” He locked the door, worry melting into contentment at her return.

“How?” Stiff fingers fought to unclasp her soaked cloak from the armor, and Tharaêl approached to help.

“Snowstorm. It let down during the night, but all day it kept snowing on and off like this.” The cloak fell heavily to the ground, and Arelyel groaned at the loss of weight.

“Oh. Hope it doesn’t get worse again. Thank you. Help me with the rest? My fingers really aren’t helping.”

Tharaêl hummed an agreement and threw a look at such fingers and their fingerless gloves as he started at another buckle of her armor. Pale, nails purple-ish. He hoped it was just superficial.

The both of them made quick work of divesting Arelyel from the armored robes, and soon the woman was standing in the middle of the room only in the shirt and leather pants she used under it all, thankfully mostly dry.

And then she hugged him, as she had for almost six months now.

The first three months she always asked if she could before, and always retreated if the answer was no. Then he said she didn’t need to ask anymore; she still let her arms loose so he could leave if he so wished, and only when he hugged back did she tighten them.

Tharaêl almost immediately put his arms around her shoulders tight and pressed her cold cheek against his clothed chest. There hadn’t been a hug he hadn’t returned – he didn’t want to relinquish it now that he had a taste. Also, with how many weeks she could be away, it wasn’t as if he got that many hugs.

“I missed you.” She whispered after a moment, arms around his middle tightening, and both of them relaxed, breaths deepening.

“… Me too.” He admitted after a moment, heartbeat too fast for some seconds. He was sure she could hear it, specially as she burrowed deeper in the hug, no space between them. Tharaêl felt as if they were trying to swallow each other.

Minutes passed, inside only the sounds of their breaths and of the fire in the hearth, outside hurrahs and happy screams as the night completely fell and the Arrival festivities started around the city.

But in between them, there was just an intimate and comfortable silence, and he felt a deep contentment, almost happiness, as the hug comforted and warmed them.

The screams outside had already dimmed when Arelyel retreated a little to look at him. He felt her hands, chastely at his sides, their recovered heat scorching through the fabric.

He didn’t know exactly what to do with his hands, not with her still so close. He never knew. In the end, he kept them at her elbows, half of him tempted to reinitiate the hug and keep it for days.

“What did I miss? Besides the beginning of the festivities, you know.”

“Well…” The question brought his thoughts back to the celebration at the Sun Temple that should’ve had just started. He looked over to the rolled parchment. “You were invited for the festivities of the Arrival at the Sun Temple. It must have started around now.” Tharaêl pressed his lips, a smile tugging at them at how her shoulders dropped. “You also must wear red for it.” Her shoulders tensed. “And something representing the Crimson Star.”

“I had to be the Prophetess and an Arcanist of the Order.” She mumbled, closing her eyes and breathing heavily through her nose. “Tealor will have my skin. When did the invite arrived?”

“One week ago.”

She blinked, then scoffed and rolled her eyes. Hard.

“I was at Duneville at the time and they knew because they sent me there and not even a note mentioning that maybe I should come back earlier.”

“Will you try to go?”

Arelyel pressed her lips, eyebrows tight in though, and let go of him, crossing her arms. Tharaêl let his hand fall, closing them in fists. He wanted her answer to be “no”. The invitation was clearly just for Arelyel, and he didn’t want to remain alone, not when she was in Ark.

“… I don’t know. I don’t even know if I have proper clothes. I’ll… Clean myself and decide.”

As she heaved the backpack on a shoulder and caught the rolled invitations, Tharaêl rolled her words and her voice over and over in his head. Something in the news about the invitation had subdued her happiness at being back, and he didn’t know what.

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

Arelyel faced her reflection, fingers dancing over the embroideries of the dress’ bodice.

The only red clothes she owned were the Order’s uniform. They had been used once, as she gained them, then forgotten in one of her chests, and it showed: they had been made for an Arelyel still too thin and scraggly of the months as a clandestine at a ship and then of living in the woods as she found her way through Enderal. The months after it, eating well and fighting and walking all over the country, had put back all the muscle and fat she had lost, and now she was once again the plump and rounded figure she always had been since her teenage years.

And even if the uniform still fit…

She would never use it again. It had been difficult already and she couldn't use it again.

Red was her mother’s and sister’s colors. They were always using it, beautiful in its vibrancy, and while Arelyel did use it as a kid, she always preferred the purples and lilacs.

Now, just the thought of dressing in red made her stomach roll and her vision darken at the edges. They were using red that day…

Pressing her eyes closed, she inspired deeply, the fragrance of the meat stew playing with her senses and making her stomach rumble with hunger. Back in the present.

Eyes open once more, she drank in the dress again and repeating to herself not red.

And it wasn’t.

Long, cotton outside and lined inside in wool, it was blessedly warm. And its wine-red color was deep enough to be almost purple. Just occasionally the light shone in the fabric just right and showed strands of red.

It should work.

She didn’t want to go to the Celebration.

Maybe she shouldn’t.

It wasn’t as if she had skirted around the final preparations for the market and caught glimpses of the food there. She was almost sure it would better than anything at the Sun Temple, as always – not because the food at the Sun Temple was bad, but because it would be almost exclusively for the nobles and rich, and months at the Nobles Quarter had taught Arelyel that she very much preferred the food of the common people. Tealor wouldn’t be happy, but when was he?

Still reflecting on going for the market, she raised her short cloak from the bed. Her eyes danced over the slightly irregular sewing against the dark-purple woolen fabric lined inside with fur, and her fingers danced over the red embroidery along the front, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars spread out in a falling pattern, the string bright and eye-catching.

It was an almost exact replica of the one Cassiopeia had given her at her first Arrival in Sirius’ house. The original had been sadly lost in the civil war.

The woman had been faithful and devote. Had said that the stars where to remember Arelyel that, the same way Malphas had guided his followers, He had guided Arelyel to Cassiopeia and Sirius when she needed.

Even with her new knowledge, Areyel couldn’t bear the thought of the remade cloak not having the stars.

She threw the cloak over her shoulders and used a simple golden brooch to hold it together.

A last look in the mirror. A new reading of the invitation.

She would go to the market. There, Tharaêl could come – he had failed to mention that the invitation didn’t extend to company, otherwise she would have said from moment one that she wouldn’t go.

Better.

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

Arelyel came back down twenty minutes later, dressed in a deep wine-red dress, almost purple, and with short cloak reaching her wrist over it, light-brown hair down. The colors warmed her skin and even harmonized with the burn scar covering her chin.

Tharaêl forced himself to not stop breathing.

Why? It wasn’t as if she dressed that differently on a day to day basis.

Still, something… She was beautiful, but in that moment, somehow, she looked even more.

Deep in his chest, he felt it, and swallowed. A tiny bit of jealousy, that others would be able to look at her like that for the rest of the night, while he would have just this glimpse, this crumb.

Dressed like that, there was no way she wasn’t going to the Sun Temple, were he hadn’t been invited.

It was Arrival Day. Living in the Undercity, he had never celebrated it, barely acknowledged its existence. But after nine months under the sun… He had started to hope, before the invitation, that he would spend it at her side.

“… Hope you have fun and to like the food.” Tharaêl managed to say, voice steadier than he felt.

Arelyel stopped by the dinner table, fingers playing with the cloak’s hem.

“I won’t go to the Sun Temple Celebration, but to the market one.” A pause, licking lips. “Will you come with me, Tharaêl? I think the food there will be amazing.”

Warmth spread inside him, both from her own invitation, and from the sound of his name on her lips; every time she did it, it was like that, full of warmth and softness.

More hours beside her. That was everything he wanted.

“I’ll just get my cloak.”

Which he did. And then Arelyel was holding his wrist and looking better at such cloak.

“It is too threadbare, Tharaêl, it won’t keep you warm. Wait a second.”

She flew up the stars, then flew down, carrying a leather packet and pushing it towards him, eyes low.

Heartbeat fast, Tharaêl caught the packet and opened it. A neckline became visible, a gold amethyst brooch caught in thick dark blue-gray fabric.

He pinched the neckline in his hand and pulled. A cloak unrolled from the leather, inside lined in thick fur, fabric with the subtle gleam of magic, hundreds of tiny twelve-pointed stars embroidered at the front, a reflection of Arelyel’s own cloak. At a glance, it should just cover his hands.

Tears burned in his eyes. He had seen Arelyel sewing and enchanting the one she was using. It was obvious that the gifted one was also her job.

She had done so much for him, and now this.

“… It is beautiful.” His voice threatened to fail, but it kept on.

Arelyel smiled, eyes raising finally to his, and Tharaêl hoped his face managed to show just a glimpse of his own emotion to her.

He made a move to put the cloak, and Arelyel’s hand touched his.

“… Can I help you with it?”

Tharaêl’s voice disappeared, throat seemingly closed, and he needed long moments to be able to nod.

Arelyel stepped closer, pulling the cloak from his hands softly, and licked her lips.

“Can you lower a little, please?” she whispered, and Tharaêl leaned toward her in a mock reverence so she could reach his shoulders.

Their noses almost touched. He could see all the details of her face, all the different hues in her brown-eyes, all the marks of the cold at her cheeks, all the grooves of the burn scar, all the plumpness and natural red color of her lips. He breathed in, and the smell of lavender from her soaps enveloped his senses.

Arelyel threw the cloak over his shoulders, arm around his neck for a moment. He wished it was for more than a moment.

“You can straighten.” Another whisper, and he mourned the distance as he did as he was told.

Lastly, she fiddled with the brooch for some moments, then fixed the fabric over his shoulders… He wondered what exactly she saw at that moment, if a friend, or as someone… Worth of the same wonder and enchantment and whoever knew what else.

“How does it feel?” she asked, finally, bringing him back from his musings, and Tharaêl moved his arms.

“Comfortable, warm… Perfect.”

She smiled, and took hold of his wrist.

“Then it is time to go. Many foods to taste.”

As she pulled him towards the door, Tharaêl just laughed softly.

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

The moment they were outside – snow and cold, but no wind –, Arelyel passed her arm around Tharaêl’s own, pressing their bodies close together and muttering about the “bloody cold” and that she hoped the market would be warmer.

Tharaêl laughed, then pulled the hood’s cloak over her head before doing the same with his.

As they walked towards the market and its merry sounds, he kept his eyes ahead, preoccupied with the patches of frozen snow around the city. He looked briefly to see Arelyel, her cheek pressed tightly against his shoulder, but not enough to caught her own glances at him – full o wonder, and enchantment, and who knows what else.

[tumbleweeddesktop]

WEH IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THE REDESIGN IGNDJFBSJBFJDJF fun fact it started when i made him in a picrew way back and i got the idea to just go ham with his design XDD i dont know why it just happened

AND SINCE YOU DONT MIND MY PROJECTING I CAN SHARE SOME OTHER HEADCANONS I HAVE ABOIT HIM !! >:D

He's autistic as hell and possibly has adhd too, like you cant tell me this bastard is neurotypical

Hypermobility <3<3<3 he constantly puts himself in the weirdest positions and claims its comfortable. The downside is joint pain 💔

He actually doesn't take care of himself very well. Its better now that he's with Nanami but he used to be an absolute mess mentally and physically

Talks A LOT to whoever will listen, but he tends to stutter when hes excited or stressed. ALSO VOCAL STIMS. Hes pretty much never quiet even when not talking, constantly making random noises and humming to himself esp when hes bored

LOVES doing little crafts, those beaded bracelets he wears? He makes those himself, and actually had tons of them, but they often fall off or break in battle (these things never hold on that long i know from experience) so he constantly makes new ones. Also he def makes them for his friends too. Nanami has one he always wears but its usually hidden in his sleeve so Gojo doesnt mock him about it

ALSO LIKE YOU SAID WITH SEWING!! Ive actually been meaning to get into it myself and thats literally perfect for him... he def has an evergrowing army of little plushies he made himself <3

And adding to what you said about him making bread for Nanami, he overall likes baking and cooking. I saw other ppl saying Nanami is good at cooking too, so i feel like while he stays with more savory things, Haruta def specializes in sweets.

Sensory issues galore! Hes very sensitive to certain sounds and despises loud noises, so he often carries around headphones to shut himself off if needed

Okay this one is super self-indulgent but. Despite his luck and overconfidence he is Very prone to stress, which leads into stress eating, which leads into him being a bit on the chubby side..

LASTLY BC DAMNIT THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG. He is huge on PDA. Constantly holding Nanami's hand and hugging him and stealing kisses here and there. Nanami found this annoying at first, but now he just accepts it -w- oh and overall Haru is super clingy in private too like its impossible for Nanami to pull him off sometimes hes like a tick <//3

Okay thats it im going now bye sorry theres so much TwT

YES YES YES TO ALL OF THIS LMAOOOO

Wait can I respond with how Nanami interacts with your hc with Haruta??? Cs I have some ideas, well some doesn't relate to Nanami but SHSUSUSHSHHS

During a bad sensor day Nanami leaves him alone cs sometimes the presence of other people nerved him and can make it worse (im projecting but shuhshhhhhhhh)

Haruta definitely does some yoga after noticing his joint pains getting worse, and he's really into it because it slows his mind down and once he got good at the more complex positions he starts doing it randomly to relax himself

Their condo has like boxes of craft supply, like beads, fabrics and patches, embroidery supplies, and the end products as well just displayed on every surface possible. Some students that visit ended up wanting some of them and Haruta just gives them away.

His sewing venture is disastrous at first, but after a few lessons he got the basics down and starts making progress. The first good (in his standards) thing he made is a tie [Im actually projecting abt sewing cs im do sew but SHUSHSHSHSH]

Nanami "I'm-only-tolerating-your-touches" Kento when Haruta goes away on a prolonged mission :

MINE'S ALSO LONG LMAO BUT YEAH SOME OF MY THOUGHTS ABT ALL THIS LSJSHDJSJFHHSJAJ

[riddlemaster101]

so i saw the tags on that post you just reblogged (about being super into fibre arts) and i… have a question, if wouldn’t mind answering? (feel free not to, ofc!)

so i am not that post - i learnt the chain stitch when i was eleven and my school had a crochet club. i’m not eleven anymore, but i’ve crocheted on and off over the years. but get this: i’ve never learnt another stitch since. i’m working on a blanket now, and… a couple months ago, i woke up in literal agony as i couldn’t move my hands at all. went to the doctor sobbing, they told me that i’d somehow managed to inflame a muscle in my elbow or smth, just because of how many hours i spent doing the same stitch over and over and over (i’m also a writer - from my phone - so like. lol. in hindsight, not the best idea…), so i’ve been kinda weary of working on the blanket for too long now—

so! what i was wondering was if a) there are any other relatively easy crochet stitches than an amateur could learn? (optionally ones that’d look nice with the chain stitch:D) and b)… how do you become that person, who knows a lot of different fibre arts and in somewhat depth? because i’d really love to do that but craft stores are so daunting, and whenever i look stuff about fibre arts, the person behind the yt video/website thinks that the reader has some sort of idea about said art and i….. do not lol, and i never know where to start.

Hey anon, great questions!

As someone who has gave herself tendinitis in both wrists from knitting too much in a week, you need to keep an eye on that injury. It took mine well over 10 months to heal and five years later I still get weakness and pains if I work them too much. So be careful with your wrists/elbows, take lots of breaks, do your physical therapy, do a bunch of warm-up stretches (or if you're like me and forget, pause every hour or so to do some). And most importantly: pay attention if anything feels like it's pulling or aching or numb or tingly. And if it does, you have to stop for the night, no acceptations, no "just one more row", you're done. Which sucks, but better than a permanent injury.

I started with knitting in college, mostly like what you're doing with crochet: same repetitive thing over and over until you're very confident with the stitch and tension on yarn, etc. For me, it really helps if you have a project you want to do that requires a new technique--I don't tend to do well with just practicing something for the sake of it, I want to make something fun! So my suggestion would be to look up a pattern (not a complicated one) that uses a new technique you want to learn and then just try it out. Worst that can happen is you rip it out and try again! This is how/why I picked up crochet after years of knitting: I wanted to make some cute little animals and it's a nightmare to knit those. But they're easy to crochet.

Also, consequently, switching fiber crafts can allow you to extend the amount of crafting you can do if your arm starts bugging you again. You just have to swap the type of motion and stress you're applying to your wrists. For months after injuring mine, I was only doing cross-stitch--the weight of the project was significantly less than, say, a blanket and moving a needle through fabric involved very different motions than knitting. I actually grew up doing embroidery, added knitting and later crochet in college and grad school, got into cross-stitch after that, and now I have a sewing machine and want to learn spinning and...oh no.

To actually answer your crochet question: I think it's pretty easy to go from a chain stitch to a single crochet stitch, and once you get that, doubles and triples are just how many more times you loop the yarn. I haven't done a whole lot of crochet--mostly making amigurumi--but these were easy enough stitches to learn and there are a whole bunch of very nice and slow youtube tutorials. Pick your fav yarn and hook size and try them out!

Hope this helps and have fun crafting!

[queer-triple-a]

A Fateful Friendship

Introduction

Hello! 

This story is going to be a tad different from my other stories, mostly because it’s written in 500 year old italian. 

Luckily this has been translated already by the institution which it comes from!

The story that is available in English is a lovely tale which I cannot wait to share with you all. 

I’ve included the images of the Italian because I think old documents look cool. But the english text is located just below. It’s not separated out by page this time, because it wasn’t in the source. Enjoy!

Content Warnings: 

Short-term disability

Depiction of pain

Period typical structural sexism

Trans medical care (kind of)

The Journal of Maribel

[Image Descriptions: six images of very old journal spreads with italian written on them. The text is translated to english below. End description.]

April 17th, 1529

I have timed the completion of my journal quite well in my own opinion. I was able to begin my new notebook just as Francesca and I moved to the town of Cavero. I shall start afresh in what I write and in where I live. Not everything shall change as we move our possessions. I will continue to be known here as Maribel instead of Markus, and Francesca, though she will ask to be called Franca here, will remain a woman as well. We are fortunate in that the village does not have a seamstress so they are quite excited as we move in. At least I believe they are excited. I have not yet spoken to any of them myself. I have only heard Franca’s reporting. I shall meet her there the day after tomorrow, as soon as Bianca’s husband can make the journey with me by cart. I must remember to pay him generously for his services. Without his cart, it would take weeks of walking to transport the pieces of our loom and the fabric which Franca keeps for her embroidery. 

She says she wants to teach me more embroidery and maybe some of the rudimentary dressmaking skills she has been learning. I will do my best to be a good, if reluctant, student, but to put things simply I do not want to be a seamstress.  

I wish there was a way for me to be a doctor in this town. I know they need one, yet I also know they will never hire someone with the name and demeanor of a woman even if I once trained under the best medical scholars in Genoa. 

Markus has studied the humours and herbalism at the medical college in Genoa. But none of that can or will matter in Cavero because I will be Maribel, and who would believe a woman’s ability to cure any disease? I long so desperately to help my new community in the way I helped before I made this change. 

I think if she saw this journal Franca would tell me I am helping the community by weaving cloth and sewing simple garments. She is right of course. She has been a woman longer than I have and I would never dare say the work she’s done held no value. There is a difference between us though. We’ve both lost so much. It seems to me in her grief Franca makes things. She busies her hands and mind with the meditation of crafts and uses them to reach out and commune with others in pain so that she may lessen it. I think her endeavors benevolent. I have witnessed her kindness and the joy and peace it appears to bring to the bereaved people we meet. To dwell in this act of grief does not do me well. I think it must do well for Franca, for she continues to repeat these actions and does not seem to wish for a different occupation. 

I am not like Franca - not about this. In my grief, I turned to medicine. It is not perfect and I cannot save everybody, but there are some who I believe are alive today because of my hand and my training. I do not know myself as well when I am not serving a town as its physician. 

Well, I suppose this is only true in some ways. I know Maribel the seamstress in all the ways I could not know Markus the physician. I may not be a physician, but I am a woman. I recognize myself in my clothing now and when people talk of me I feel it is truly me they speak of. Yet I am stopped from fulfilling this other want of mine - to use the knowledge I have gained. 

Perhaps I shall talk to Franca about this. She has changed her name, though she did not need to change her profession. Perhaps she still will understand my struggles. More than this, I hope she hears me and knows me. I could be lost to all the world, but if Franca knows me I may be content. 

April 28th, 1529

I do not think beginning in a new town can ever be an easy task, yet things are not as difficult this time as they were last time. One thing which seems to help is the demand of this community for our products. Last time it took us about four months to gain steady business. There was no waiting period here. We have been weaving, sewing and embroidering the entire day to keep up with the needs of the town. 

Another thing that has made this transition smooth is our neighbor. Her name is Diana and she spends much of her day near us. Like Franca, her father’s skin is dark brown and her mother’s is white. Her skin is a darker and warmer shade than Franca’s, but from what I have overheard Diana’s grandparents are from Ifriqiya like Franca’s father. 

Diana’s husband raises pigs for the local lord, so she is fortunate enough not to need to work. Once she has a family of her own she will remain occupied during the day, however, she is not yet expecting. I cannot tell whether the lack of children or pregnancy bothers her. Some days she seems nearly wistful, others it’s as though she fears the loss of her independence. I suppose she could feel both. It is not as though my expectations for my future are ever as simple as single words. 

The only member of our new community who I have met whom I do not foresee getting along with is Nicollo. He works with the masons and his clothing is simple yet well kept, so he does not visit us for his own garments, nor for his wife, for he lives with another bachelor who I’ve yet to meet. Despite this, he spends nearly twenty minutes each day around our stall looking at our fabrics. I am becoming convinced he merely watches us work. It is off putting, and he makes me quite nervous. Franca told me not to worry so I shall not list my fears here, but there are many reasons a woman such as myself should be wary of a man who pays her too much attention. I hope Franca knows I would not want to date this man. Surely she knows me better than that. 

Ah. She is home, so I shall go ask her now. Hopefully, her reassurances will do something to quell my discomfort. 

May 10th, 1529

There is no word for the series of events that transpired today other than ‘strange’. Each moment individually may have occurred on a normal day, yet when put in sequence I struggled to keep pace with the events of life. I shall recount them now in part to better understand their nature, but also to remind myself later of where this new path in my life began. 

The first several hours of our day were unextraordinary. Franca was mending the shorts of a local boy while I sat behind the loom weaving fabric from the colors she had set out for me that morning. There was no one else in the store so I began complaining about my boredom to Franca. She tried to be patient, telling me I could learn more patterns and sew clothes rather than weaving simple fabrics. This was not the solution to my boredom and Franca knew this. I told her I wish to return to being a doctor. 

I believe I was too loud in this declaration, for at the moment I concluded Nicollo walked into the area. I grew quiet as he eyed me up and down. At the time I knew not what he was looking for nor what he thought he found. I have suspicions now. 

After browsing our wares for some time he paused near me. He ran his fingers over the orange and green fabrics at my side and kept opening his mouth as though to speak. He would glance my way, see me watching curiously, and then turn back to the fabric. 

It was Franca who broke this uncomfortable pattern. She asked if she could help with anything. Nicollo stared at her mouth slightly open. He considered responding her way before turning to me again. 

“You were a doctor?” He asked me. 

I do not know precisely how I responded because in my shock I stammered. I must have nodded or agreed somehow, for he smiled and continued on.

“They will not train women,” He said. It was not a question but a fact. He was not rude in his words, and oddly there seemed to be a joy or excitement in his eye. 

I did not know how to respond to this accusation which did not feel like an accusation so I stared at him for a moment then turned back to my loom. 

He spoke again saying “They will not train a woman, yet they trained you,” he put his hand on my loom, I suspect to draw my attention. It worked. I met his eyes and saw hope. I could not comprehend this. In my confusion, I grew frustrated. I told him to let go of my loom. He did. He turned to Franca, looked her up and down for a moment, then turned back to me. 

He lowered his voice significantly and said, “My friend's name was not always Leonardo. Before we came to this town it was Lavinia.”

He paused for a moment while he let this sink into the room. I met Franca’s wide eyes across the room. I had little time to form an opinion, an emotion, or a response before Nicollo continued. 

“I loved him then and I did not stop loving him when he insisted those changes were necessary for his happiness,” He told us. I think he feared we would react poorly for he continued on for several more moments. I do not remember his words, but I remember the feelings they conveyed. I could not help but meet Franca’s eyes again for it is the feeling I felt when she first confided her own discomfort in me. An endearment that pulled me toward her with such strength that I would climb mountains to bring her more joy in her life. To change a name and see her as a woman mattered to me only because everything about her mattered to me. 

“I understand,” I told Nicollo. 

He stopped his fretting and met my eyes, with his own: wide with hope. 

“He needs a doctor’s help,” Nicollo said, “But the only doctor is from the town north of us and he cannot know.” 

I nodded and caught Franca’s eyes. Something like an agreement passed between us as I said “I will help.” A smile grew from the fear and confusion on her face. We briefly spoke about where Leonardo was and what his struggles were, but it became clear Nicollo would not tell me much until I saw him for myself. I suspect he did not want me to diagnose him without visiting. 

I made the walk with Nicollo to their home. We did not speak as we walked. All we knew of each other were things we could not speak of in public. I entered their home and saw Leonardo curled around himself on their bed mat. His auburn hair was stuck by sweat to his tan forehead and his breathing was labored. 

He called out softly to Nicollo who quickly moved to sit beside his beloved. I was unsure of what to do with myself so I stood in the doorway as an observer while they rearranged themselves so Nicollo held Leonardo’s head within his lap. For a brief moment, I let my eyes wander to his pained body. I imagined the parts I knew were beneath the surface. How they fit together and what could be going wrong.

Nicollo spoke my name, Maribel, and snapped me from unhelpful thoughts. I moved towards the bed and knelt before Leonardo. I introduced myself and said I was a doctor. 

There was confusion amidst the pain and Nicollo brushed his fingers through Leonard’s hair. “She’s a doctor?” His strained voice asked. 

I took a deep breath and told him, “I was Markus when I was taught and trained. I am Maribel now.” 

I do not know for certain whether Leonardo understood. There was silence in the room for a moment as he struggled with connecting the dots which brought me to his bedside. His thoughts were interrupted by his own pained groan. I knelt beside him and began to examine what was wrong. 

After much discussion and some gentle prodding, I could make a diagnosis. I have placed the medical information and treatment plan in the medical journal I kept while in school. 

I did not intrude in their home much longer than this. I instructed Nicollo to keep Leonardo hydrated and not allow him to get warm tonight. He must grow colder and wetter if we are to rebalance his humors and make him well again. I hope his fever does not remain for that may indicate an imbalance of his blood humor as well and I do not know where to find leeches nor could I ask someone nearby for I fear they would discover my purpose and perhaps our secrets. 

Nicollo offered to walk me back to my home, but I could see he did not want to leave Leonardo. Nicollo’s presence offered much comfort to Leonardo who looked no better than I’d found him and who would likely remain in pain for several days at least. It would feel cruel for me to steal either man from the other’s side. 

I walked home alone and thought I would have much to tell Franca when I arrived. People were shopping and talking among the clothes when I arrived and they remained for several hours more. I resumed my weaving on the loom while Franca sewed and sold cloth. When the sun set and we moved into the back room I had her to myself and despite my excitement earlier in the day I could think of little to express with words.

I told her we were not alone. Her eyes sparkled at this. 

She squeezed my hands and told me “I was never alone for I have you.” 

She is right of course, that we have each other. But there is a joy in hearing about the existence of another like us. It reduces in me the fear that we are alone in our ways. It makes me feel more certain that our choice of happiness did not show weakness or confusion, but strength and resolve. 

Franca went to walk about town this evening. I think she likes the cool night air. She claims she can hear the wind whistle through the mountains. She says the voices of men and women in their home is the melody on top of the harmonious sounds of nature. I attended one of her strolls and did not hear the song she hummed along to. Perhaps I was too distracted looking at my Franca to be able to see the world through her eyes. 

She returns now so I shall put down my notebook to fall asleep beside her as I thank the stars for the people I have met within the course of my life. 

May 19th, 1529

My twice daily trips to see Leo in his home may be more than is needed for him medically, but it brings joy and companionship to both of us and Franca does not complain of my absence. Leo’s pains are showing no improvement so he cannot yet return to work. Once this pain passes I suspect we will see each other with less frequency so I am slightly ashamed to admit I am taking advantage of his position to impose on his kindness. This is not to say he does not seem to enjoy my company. Several times I have suggested I could visit with less frequency or for shorter durations and each time I am asked to remain and return. I am grateful my presence does not bother him. 

There is always much for us to talk about. In moments where the pain ebbs, Leo has told me the stories of the members of this community. I have learned much of the past romantic dalliances of the Lord who owns this land. These stories are a joy to bring home to sweet Franca. I try to bring her to Leo to hear them herself, but I have yet to convince her to leave her work. She is quite in demand here, and though I think she would enjoy it, I understand why she remains. Without her by my side, I feel slightly less whole, but Leo’s gentle friendship and attentive ear offer much comfort to me in this new town. I spin him yarns about my past, my studies, and my life, and keep him up to date on the gossip floating amongst the town. 

After we grew used to each other’s company we began to talk about things beyond town gossip. Several of our meetings have been spent discussing how we changed and, more than that, how we didn't. The feelings that led me to be a woman and the joy I feel now contrast with the great sadness lifted from Leo’s shoulders when Nicco’s love did not waver. There was confusion as there tends to be but once Nicco’s questions ended his acceptance began. Nicco often returns to their home while I am there and his face wrinkles with joy when his eyes first find Leo. Of course, this joy is often wiped out by worry and concern at the illness but the instinct remains: Leo makes Nicco happy. 

I thank the stars they’ve found and kept each other. 

May 22nd, 1529

As is noted in my medical journal Leo’s pain released its grip on him overnight. I shall stop in to ensure he remains well today, but then I shall cease my daily trips. He will likely return to work tomorrow and so shall I. I have let myself get so lost in the joy of being a doctor that I forgot I will not be working with any patients in this town beyond Leo. 

I have no other thoughts to share. I thought I had more words to say on that matter. But it seems things are quite clear. I will cease treating Leo daily and return to weaving cloth. 

May 25th, 1529

I shall sleep happily tonight. I thank the stars for my friends and for their company tonight. They have given me a path toward the future which holds a joy I did not expect. 

Leo and Nicco arrived at our shop just after their work shift. They’d stopped at their home on the way to freshen up and grab some food and arrived as the day ended with dinner for myself and Franca. We ate and talked and had a wonderful time. 

Though I have not yet spoken to Franca, she left shortly after dinner for her evening walk, I believe she enjoyed herself. She smiled at Leo's jokes and did a much better job catching him up on the gossip than I could hope to. She has a knack for small talk and gossip. 

While she told Leo of the most recent affairs of Susanna’s brother’s wife I spoke some to Nicco alone. I realized I hadn’t had time with just him since before I met Leo. Since then I had spent a lot of time with his love and roommate, but I often left soon after he came back home from the day's work. He is softer spoken than Leo and meets my eyes with an intense stare - though I quickly learned there is no malice in it. He is an avid listener. He asked after our shop and as I answered he held onto every word I spoke. When I finished he thought for a moment before asking about our business in our last town. The conversation continued like this until its natural end. 

He waited and listened to the gossiping of Leo and Franca for several minutes before turning to me and saying, “You are a good doctor. I am grateful I met you and trusted you.” 

I admit I was a little taken aback by the bluntness, but I hope this was not obvious to him. I told him thank you and he smiled back as he took a sip of his drink. 

It wasn’t long before he met my eyes and spoke again. He told me, “You are a woman who has been trained as a doctor.” 

Despite there being no obvious question, I could tell he waited for a response. I nodded. He nodded understandingly and said, “My sister is pregnant. Our town has no midwife.” 

Once again the question was implicit. I told him I knew little of the subject and that work is for women, and thus I was not taught it. 

He stated, “You are a woman” then after a very brief pause asked, “Could you learn?” 

I hesitated. I know very little of the bodies which can carry a baby and have never witnessed the act of birth. I expressed this fear to Nicco and he listened carefully. When I was done he collected his thoughts and then said, “I trust your skill and knowledge of the human body. My sister will have no one if she does not have you.” 

I do not know if it was the conviction with which he believed in me or how his eyes held mine with fear for his sister and hope for my answer, but I responded “I will try.” 

When the men had left I had but a few moments before her walk to tell Franca of my promise to Nicco. It was her instant excitement that waved away the fog of fear to reveal joy underneath. I will still be able to be a doctor. Not as I was once, but in a new way, as a woman. I will learn what I can about childbirth and I will bring healing and joy to the people in my community. 

I suspect Franca will return soon so I must wrap this up so we can discuss our news and hold each other in joy. I trust we shall lie close tonight for Franca often yearns for touch when emotions run high. 

Oh, what good fortune it is to share my life with someone such that her joy becomes mine and mine becomes hers. We have braved dark moments together and there is no one I would rather be near me as we celebrate and step into this new light. 

Outrodution

A HUGE shout out to the people who found, translated, and preserved this document. It’s amazing that it’s been kept this well for this long. 

I think I found something that I’ll share for the holidays next week, so keep an eye out!

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

(background image of the journal was made using this image source)