#i just need to buy some more of the blue yarn

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I already have 3 weaving projects haunting my mind in case anyone was wondering how I'm doing

[ckret2]

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble. 

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day���provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow. 

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you." 

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub." 

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly. 

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

[errruvande]

Haldir (as his beautiful face was everywhere) and wool.

(this is for the drabble!)

Emma, thank you for your participation 💖

This ended up being heavy on the ficlet side, then a drabble, but oh, what should I do 😅

It was a long few weeks of Haldir's absence. Being married to him for almost a millennium, you grew almost comfortable with your husband's frequent absence. After all, you knew who you were marrying, you knew exactly how little of him you'd get in your life, from his duty was to scout the borders of your beautiful home and, if needed, to lead the army of the elves of Lothlorien into battle, thought you've been brushing the last thought from your mind, for the horror would lie too heavy on your heart if it comes to that end.

In lack of Haldir by your side you found yourself a hobby to keep you busy, distracting your eager mind from the gloomy thoughts of your husband's wellbeing.

Once the market in Caras Galadhon was full of new items from both Lothlorien and the lands further south, such as golden fields of Rohan and distressed Gondor, you decided to buy some wool to weave yourself a warm cloak. Then, it was a challenge to reckon with. One day, when Haldir returned from his scouting, he rashed to your shared talan only to find you tangled in the yarn, the weaving wheel laying on it's side on the floor next to your whimpering figure.

Now, you were well known as a marvelous weaver, and have been making cloaks and gowns for all the elleths in Lorien.

You were sitting at the table in your talan, weaving yet another grey cloak, when you heard the door creaking, light steps becoming closer and closer to you.

“Meleth nîn!” You would recognize his scent, the way he breathes and walks with your eyes closed. You jumped from your seat to welcome Haldir, as he finally came home from another patrol.

“Y/N…” Haldir cupped your cheeks, bowing his head just slightly to touch your forehead with his, and slowly succumbed into a long desired kiss.

After every patrol you kissed him for the first time in your life, the kiss is so intimate and soft, it feels like a gentle breeze caressing your lips. You missed this. With every inch of your being.

Your hands were resting on his chest, softly brushing the thin material of his tunic, as he lowered one of his hands to take in your palm. “I've missed you terribly, meleth”

You felt so desperate, letting his lips part from yours when you only wanted them to linger and take all the air away from your lungs, that feeling alone made you whimper silently.

But that was the time, when Haldir took your hand in his and lifted it to look at your palm closely, your fingers shaking a little from the long days of weaving, little blisters shining on the their tips.

“You should take some time off, love.” he didn't hesitate to press your palm to his lips and kiss it softly, moving along each of your fingers, pecking them in tiny little kisses. “You should not work at a loss of your health.”

“I would gladly not work at all, my love,” you watched him grazing your hand with kisses, his clear blue eyes locked on yours. “but then I would be thinking about you without a rest, and that will cause more loss of my health than a slightly shaking fingers”

Haldir chuckled softly, bringing the second palm of yours to his face and kissing the tips of your fingers gently. He started walking on you, leading you away from the wool and the weaving wheel, so you could stop thinking about your work at least for a few minutes.

“Is that new?” He noticed a blanket spread on top of the big bed, blue with a deep green ornament on it. You nodded.

“Made it a few days ago” you glanced over the bed, tugging your palms out from Haldir's grip and placing them around his waist, that fitted so perfectly between your hands, and pressed yourself to his body.

“Shall we test if it is soft enough?” You saw his face lighted with a smile, a light chuckle leaving his mouth, as he made another step, pressing your calves to the bed.

“Meleth, I have work to be done…” Haldir could definitely hear a note of disappointment in your airy voice, as you sat on the bed, looking him in the eyes, hands still curled around his muscular waist.

“Your husband just returned from a month-long patrol.” He reached your face with his palm and grazed your cheek with his soft fingers carefully, sending a light shiver down your neck. “I think they will understand.”

You stretched one of your arms beside you, leaning to your back and watching Haldir bending over you to gift you a soft kiss on the neck. The woolen blanket feels soft and delicate under your touch, just as the kisses your husband showering your naked areas of skin with, forcing a little whine to exit your mouth.

“Perhaps they will”

Send me a word and a character: LOTR/TH, TLK or VIKINGS - and I will try and write a drabble or ficlet ✨

[trashpandacraft]

hi! ok so i'm going to talk about one of my top-five favourite things, which is: dyeing stuff! this is going to be specifically about dyeing protein fibres (animal fibres—wool, alpaca, silk, etc) in a pretty low-key way in your kitchen.

to be clear up front: this is not the most scientific, most perfectly reproducible, or most Objectively Correct way to dye things. i get a lot of fibre that i like this way, though, and i think that other people can, too.

fibre i've dyed that i think is neat:

you can also dye yarn like this:

yes, i like blue a lot. i also really like variegation and heathering, which is why most of the fibre here has patches of white—it's an intentional choice that i've made. you can make different choices.

here is what you need to dye things:

fibre, vinegar, dye, a pot, heat, and some water.

that was so you don't get overwhelmed by the impending wall of text. here is what you need to dye things (it's the same stuff!), but with way more detail:

fibre or yarn. this is the big one, obviously. i tend to dye in 100-200 gram batches, because that's approximately what fits on my stovetop easily. if you're very nervous about felting or harming your fibre, you can use stuff that's been treated to be superwash, start with yarn (which is harder to felt than fibre is), or use a felt-resistant breed like dorset or suffolk. honestly, though, i learned with merino because that's what i had, and it was fine. again, though, this guide is only for protein fibres. it will not work for things like cotton. the only exception to this is nylon, which will take on some colour, but less than a protein fibre will.

a mordant. this is a fancy way of saying a thing that makes dye stick, and for what we're doing here, it's citric acid or vinegar. your grocery store definitely has at least one of them, though if you can choose, i prefer citric acid, because i love wet wool smell but i do not always love wet wool vinegar smell.

dye. i use acid dyes, and am personally deeply loyal to dharma acid dyes, but ashford and jacquard acid dyes work the same way. if you don't want to buy dye or don't have access to it, food colouring will often work, as well, though i haven't tried this with natural food colourings and have no idea how well they'll work.

a dedicated dye pot. ok, if you're doing food dyes, you don't need this. if you're not, it's definitely best practice, though i don't know how dangerous it is not to. any large metal pot will do, but my favourite option is hotel pans, which are those huge metal pan/tray things that hold food at buffets and the like. i have a full-size one that's 15cm deep, and a half-size one that's 4cm deep. they're great because they let you lay out the fibre you're working with so you can see most of it in a single layer.

dedicated dye utensils. as before, i don't know how much of a huge deal this is. i'll be honest and admit that for several years i had a single pair of tongs that got used for all tong-requiring events, including dyeing, and i'm still alive. i suggest that you have at least a big spoon, and a big spoon and tongs are even better.

something to mix the dye in. yeah, i use empty plastic sports drink or soda bottles for this. you can be fancy and get mason jars or little squirt bottles or whatever, and if you get super into dyeing you'll want to mix up dye stocks, but that's way outside the scope of what we're doing here. i like the powerade bottles that have a little squirty mouthpiece, because it's fun to squirt dye onto things.

personal protective equipment. i think this is the part of things that freaks people out. ideally, you wear plastic gloves and a mask (yeah, like your covid masks) when you're working with dye. realistically, i almost never remember to put on gloves and just accept that my hands are going to be blue sometimes. you should wear a mask, because dye is an irritant, but the world is an imperfect place and i have wicked bad adhd and sometimes i forget. this isn't advice. i'm just being honest. you should use some kind of safety stuff. you probably won't die if you don't.

you might also want some little random bits: an old toothbrush or paintbrush, a pipe cleaner, some toothpicks, etc. this is mostly if you like speckles, or if you want very small patches of colour.

so first: there are a million ways to dye things, and i'm not convinced that any of them are objectively correct. i do what i do and it works for me. some of the things i do are the opposite of what most guides suggest, but i do them because i like the effects they create.

ok, that's all the background stuff you need. let's dye some stuff!

the number one most important thing to remember when you're dyeing is this:

you can always add more colour. you cannot take it away.

that's in fancy writing and bold because every once in a while i forget this, and every single time i end up regretting it.

here is how to dye things:

put water, citric acid (or vinegar), and fibre into a pot. add dye and heat. let cool completely. rinse the fibre in cool water, then hang to dry.

like, sure, we're going to go into way more detail, but push come to shove, if you do that, you're going to end up with dyed fibre. there are a lot of tutorials telling you that you must soak your fibre first, or you must add your citric acid this way, or hold the water at exactly this temperature, and i'm here to tell you that while any of these things can give you different results, those results aren't necessarily better.

the only way that you can totally screw this up is by accidentally felting your fibre, so before i get into the way more detail part of things, i'm going to talk about that.

how not to felt your fibre

i feel like if you've read this far, you know how things felt: wool, heat, and agitation. you may also notice that at least two of these things are required for dyeing. this can be stressful! but you don't have to be afraid of it. there's only been one time that i felted something to the point that it was unusable, and that happened because i literally fell asleep for several hours while the pot was on the stove. you can avoid doing this by simply setting an alarm—this is a good idea anyhow, because you'll want to check on your dye pot!

when you're dyeing, use the lowest heat that you can while still keeping the water at a simmer. if your stove, like mine, has one burner that's wildly unpredictable and sort of out of control, you may want to look for some sort of flame diffuser, also called a flame tamer or a simmer ring. i bought one on amazon for about fourteen dollars, and it's literally just a thick metal circle. it works fine.

you can also keep the heat low by using a pot with a thick bottom, though in my experience those are expensive, and if i had one i would be using it for soup, not wool.

avoid shocking your wool—never put room temperature wool into hot water, and never put hot wool into cold water. leave your wool in the dye bath until it's cooled completely, which for me usually means overnight.

finally, obviously you have to move the fibre around some. you'll need to peek under it in the pan, and when you're done, you have to rinse it and squish out the water. try to minimise handling, though. don't run water directly onto the fibre, don't get a wooden spoon and stir your dye pot around, don't wring the fibre dry when it's done.

you're probably never going to be perfect. i often find that i lose a gram or two of wool where fibres have grabbed onto each other, or where parts of the ends clumped up. it's not really felted, just sort of compacted, but it's not great to work with, and i'd rather lose a gram of fibre than fuss with the clumpy bits.

back to how to dye things

let's take it step by step, assuming a hundred grams of fibre.

put your pan on the stove and fill it halfway with water. add either a teaspoon of citric acid or a tablespoon of vinegar. this is going to help the dye strike, or stick to the fibre. the teaspoon/tablespoon is a guideline, but one that it's fine to exceed. adding more will help the dye strike faster, which can be useful if you're trying to create blocks of colour on your fibre. i usually err on the side of a little more than the guidelines, and just eyeball this—if you feel like the dye isn't taking well, you can add more later.

add your fibre to the pan. this is the first place you have to think about what you want the finished fibre to look like! you can put it into the pan any way you want, but i suggest trying to keep it in a relatively even layer, regardless of what that layer looks like. here are some ways to get specific effects:

if you want a gradient from one end of the fibre to the other, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the short sides of the pan

if you want a short, repeating gradient, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the long sides of the pan

if you want something that starts with very close repeats that get further apart as you go down the fibre, make an approximate spiral

if you don't want A Pattern (i usually don't) just lay things out in a single layer, more or less

here comes the next exciting part! decide if you want to let your fibre soak or not. again, doing or not doing this gives you some different effects!

soaking your fibre will mean that dye takes more evenly. if you want consistent colours, you'll want to soak.

not soaking your fibre means that the dye takes less evenly. the fibre on top will have less acid available to it, spends less time in the dye bath, and also has to actually get wet before it will start to dye. i actually love doing this, and think it affords a lot of cool opportunities to play with and layer colours.

if you're soaking, leave the fibre there until it's submerged. if not, don't.

now you're going to add dye! decision time, again.

you can add dye when the water is cold, which will give you more even dye coverage, and in my experience gives the colours more time to mix together

you can add dye when when the water is hot, which will give you less even coverage, and tends to encourage the colours to stay more delineated

probably surprising no one, i tend to heat the water first unless i'm starting with a base colour or i'm doing a two-colour gradient.

time to mix up some dye

as i mentioned earlier, i'm assuming that you're using powered acid dyes for this. if you're not, this mixing up part is technically optional—but doing it gives you way more control about how and where you place your colours, so i'm going to assume that you'll do it.

i usually mix dye in some sort of empty drink bottle. regardless of what you're using, before you add dye to anything, put some water in the bottle, wipe off the lip, put the lid on tightly, and shake the bottle vigorously. if there is any leakage at all, do not use that bottle. find a better bottle. if your bottle cap doesn't seal well or if you have an empty condiment bottle that's just a little wonky or whatever, you will get dye all over the kitchen, and your landlord will be really really mad about it, and you will regret your life choices. (if you own your kitchen, you can do whatever you want, but this isn't about you and you know it.)

so you have a bottle that seals tightly! great job. dump out the water and carefully put some dye powder into the bottle. remember earlier how i said you should be wearing a mask? this is the part where you should be wearing a mask.

i know that people are reading this and going, ok, but how much dye do i put in?

my answer is put in the amount that feels right in your heart, and don't forget the number one rule of dyeing things, which is that you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.

this isn't a very scientific answer. most dyes have a guideline about how much to use, expressed as a percentage of the dry weight of the fibre, which is what you use to get the whole quantity of fibre dyed evenly. for dharma dyes, it's like 1.5-2%, i think ashford is 1%, and jacquard is more like 2-4%, depending on the colour.

here is the problems with doing that in your kitchen: first, using that much dye will get you an evenly dyed piece of fibre, which—for me, at least—is basically the opposite of what i want. second, and more importantly, unless you have one of those teeny tiny scales used by jewelers and drug dealers, your kitchen scale will not weigh out such tiny quantities with any accuracy. third, if you do it like this, you really have to plan what you're doing ahead of time, because there's a point after which no more dye will bind! the fibre will be like enough thank u that's it i'm good and that'll be it, so you lose some of your ability to decide that actually, you want more green.

you can probably guess, at this point, that i don't weigh the dye. once you've done a couple batches of fibre with a given brand of dye, you'll start to get the vibes for how much you should use. if you really want a guideline, for a hundred grams of fibre, start with a quarter teaspoon of a given colour. you can add more—either more of this colour or a different one—later, as desired.

put your dye in the empty bottle, and then fill the bottle partway with hot water. the amount of water doesn't really matter here, nor does the specific temperature of the water. i usually fill about 3/4 of the way, because that way there's plenty of room for this next step, which is: wipe the lip of the bottle, recap it tightly, and then shake it up real good. the dye powder is going to dissolve into the water, and you now have a bottle of dye!

if you're going for a gradient, you might want to mix up your second colour so you can add them at (basically) the same time for more even mixing. if you're not, or if you only have one mixing bottle, you can do them one at a time.

oh my god we're finally putting dye on the fibre

are you ready? it's time!!

you have basically infinite options for how to do this, and many of them will give you different effects. here are some ideas:

pour the dye all at one side of the pan. and if you don't add anything else, your fibre will fade from the colour of the dye to the natural colour of the fibre

pour two colours, one at either side of the pan. depending on how much dye you use (and remember, you can always add more), this will give you either chunks of colour surrounded by white, or a two-colour gradient

add all the dye to unheated water and mix it gently, then let the fibre soak for a few minutes longer before turning on the heat. this will give you a fairly even colour

pour randomly all over, and you'll either end up with a tonal yarn or a heathered one, depending on how much dye you're using

add the dye to the water under the dry fibre, which will sink in and take up more dye on the bottom of the fibre than the top

if your heat wasn't on before, it should be now, and you're going to let the dye hang out in the hot but not boiling water for a while. how long? well, one of the cool things about dyeing with these dyes is that they exhaust, which means that when the dye has been sucked up by the fibre, the surrounding water will be clear. how long this takes will depend on the specific dye, how much of it you used, how much mordant you used, etc. i try to check every fifteen minutes.

reminder: if you started with room temperature water, the dye's not going to start taking until the water heats up, so don't check it after fifteen minutes and freak out that nothing has happened. it is fully normal for it to take up to an hour for the dye to exhaust. don't turn up the temperature, just give it time.

yay it worked!

at this point, you have a pot of hot water with some beautifully coloured fibre in it! but maybe it's not beautiful enough. maybe you want...more colours.

that's cool as hell and you should go for it. we mentioned two-colour gradients up there, but what if you want something else?

the answer, probably obviously, is adding more dye.

first, a caveat: while you can successfully make multicoloured gradients like this, it's more difficult than you think, and if it gets messed up—all the colours bleed into each other, say—it turns into a muddy mess. my suggestion is to stick to two (or three at most!) colour gradients until you have a much better feel for what you're doing.

let's talk about ways you can add more colour. you have two options: big colour and little colour.

big colour is going to add a lot of colour—you're going to mix up the dye and pour it just like you did before, but paying more attention to places that don't have dye yet. sometimes it's the middle of a gradient, or the white splotches from random pouring, or the half of the fibre that wasn't submerged when you started. or maybe you dyed the whole thing yellow, and now you want to add a blue gradient over top. whatever!

if you don't want to freehand pour, consider buying a couple large syringes, or a bottle with a squeezy top. these are also fun because you can easily get more colour between the laid-out fibre, or even under it.

in the pictures at the start of this post, the red-and-gold top and both yarns were dyed by adding big colour.

little colour isn't going to add big patches, but is going to add speckling, tonal depth, or smaller patches of colour. all of the blue-base fibres and the yellow-and-blue yarn were dyed like this.

if you're still reading this closely, you might have caught that i just said both yarns were dyed with big colour, and that the yellow-and-blue yarn was also dyed with little colour. these are both true! the base colours of the yarn were done to make big colour, but if you look at the full-size image, there are also a bunch of speckles. you can do whatever you want! no one can stop you!

here are some ways to add little colour:

mix up some dye, but use less water. add drops of the dye, either directly onto the fibre (more dramatic!) or in the water (tonal!)

use a toothpick to grab a little bit of dye powder and drop it into the dye bath (similar to the previous one, but a little less predictable)

put on a damn facemask. take a clean toothbrush, paintbrush, or pipecleaner, and just barely touch it to the dye powder. gently flick or tap the brush to add speckles of that colour

find a salt shaker that you're never going to use for anything but this. put citric acid, salt (to make it distribute better), and dye powder into it, and shake it up (with the holes covered, please cover the holes) to make sure they're evenly distributed. gently shake this over the fibre to add speckles, but more of them, and clustered together

put a little dye in a spray bottle and gently mist the exposed fibre, kinda glazing it with colour

another thing is that if you like a natural coloured yarn with dyed speckles, you can do any of these techniques without doing big colour first. the only thing to note when doing this is that you'll want to be very sure to spread out the fibre well, and maybe to consider dyeing one side, then very very carefully flipping it over and getting the other side.

ok, now what?

let's say that you've added all the colours that you want, and you've let your bath simmer long enough that the water is clear, or nearly clear. (if it's not, check troubleshooting, below.)

put the lid on your pan and walk away. if you don't have a lid, just walk away, but it's less dramatic.

the super frustrating part here is that the safest thing to do is wait until the water and fibre is fully cooled before you do anything else.

have i ignored this? yes

has it ever gone horribly wrong? not horribly wrong, but it's definitely caused me to lose an inch or two of roving on occasion

is it way more stressful if you don't wait? absolutely yes

honestly maybe just go to bed and deal with your fibre in the morning

so now let's say that it's morning and you slept long enough that your water and fibre are both room temperature, which often actually feels quite cool on your hands.

you have to drain your fibre. there are two ways to do this:

lift the fibre out of the water. this has the upside of not risking dumping your beautiful fibre into your sink, and not needing to maneuver a full pot of water, both of which are admirable. the downside is that wet fibre is fragile, and you'll want to be careful to support it.

dump the water out of the pan. this has the upside of minimising how much handling you're doing of the fibre, as well as (in my opinion) making rinsing easier. the downside is attempting to keep the fibre into the pot while you dump the water into the sink, and also needing to carry around a full pot of water.

secret third option: dump the fibre (and the water) into a strainer. upside: very easy, and you can keep the fibre in the strainer while you rinse, minimising both how much it needs to be handled and the weight on the fibre. downside: i never remember that this is an option until i'm already elbows-deep in acidulated water, discovering every tiny cuticle tear.

you're going to fill your dyepot with water again so that you can rinse the fibre. you want to minimise thermal shock, so keep the water temperature as close to the temperature of the fibre as you can, and don't run the water directly onto the fibre. i like to pull all the fibre to one side of the pan, and fill the pan on the other side.

side note: if you, smart person, remembered that you can use a colander, simply fill a pot with water, put the colander in the pot, and gently agitate the colander.

if you, person who is deeply relatable, did not remember you can use a colander and now have a pot with clean water and fibre, gently move your fibre in the water to encourage any excess dye and also citric acid to get out of there.

drain your fibre again, and this time, you're going to squeeze it dry. you're still trying to minimise agitation, so this isn't a 'wring it out' situation, it's a 'gently squish it between your hands and/or a hand and the side of the pot' situation.

hang your fibre to dry. remember what i was saying earlier about it being fragile? let me suggest, here, that you do not simply drape the entire length over a single hanger or something and hope for the best. if you literally have a single hanger, at least drape it back and forth a bit, but better if you can use more than one hanger, or a clothes drying rack, or that weird metal wine rack thing that came with your fridge that you've never used, or whatever.

important reminder: drip-drying things will make your floor wet! if you live somewhere very clear with no major roads or pollen nearby, you can probably dry things outside, but if you don't, you'll probably want to position the drying rack in a bath, shower, laundry area, or otherwise over something that will catch and/or absorb the water.

how long it takes for the fibre to dry is another unknowable variable. if it's warm and dry where you are, it might literally be overnight. if it's damp and cool, it can take days. the batch i posted a couple days ago literally took almost a full week to dry. spread it out as best you can, gently squeeze out the water you can, and otherwise you just have to wait.

you're done!

when it's dry, that's it, you're done! you might find that you need to pick off some little lint balls or a bit of compacted or slightly felted fibre from the tips, but other than that, you should be good to go.

like most fibre stuff, this is best maintained by handwashing in cool water. you may see a little bit of dye or colour loss the first time you wash it, which is pretty normal and nothing to worry about.

congratulations! you made it to the end of this incredibly long post, and if you followed along, you've just dyed some fibre!

troubleshooting

this isn't dyed enough! i want more colours!

add more dye! i'm not the boss of you.

this is true even after the fibre is all done and dryed. there's nothing that says you can't dye it again—you can, and i have.

some fibre seems to require more dye than others. silk, for example, dyes beautifully with acid dyes, but also needs way more dye than i expect it to.

remember that if you're dyeing something that's a wool/cotton blend, for example, the cotton isn't going to dye. the only exception is nylon, which will kinda dye, but not as dramatically. this guide will not work for plant fibres.

this is too dyed! i want fewer colours!

please refer back to the number one most important thing about dyeing, which—as you know—is: you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.

pull out some more fibre and try again. this has a learning curve, just like any other fibre craft.

these colours don't look like i expected!

this can be about a lot of things.

colour guides, especially if you're looking at them online, aren't always very accurate.

colour guides tend to assume that you're dyeing a single colour at the suggested dye percentage of weight, and using less than that will give paler colours.

dyes, especially if you're mixing brands, can interact with each other and behave in ways you didn't expect.

dyes can also break, which is when they split into their component colour molecules. this happens commonly with blacks and browns, food colouring, and anything that dharma trading has marked as 'advanced'. some people find this very desirable and seek it out; some people are very frustrated by it.

the ph of your water can sometimes affect your dye. i've been lucky enough that i've only lived places with lead problems, not weird ph stuff, so i haven't investigated this closely, but if you're consistently not getting the results you expect, even going for a single, solid-colour dye, look at the ph.

my dye water's not clear!

if you used a quarter teaspoon of dye and a hundred grams of fibre, and it's been, say, 45 minutes of actually hot water and your water still isn't clear, you probably didn't use enough mordant, and you should add some more citric acid or vinegar to encourage the dye to get in there and do its thing.

if you used you used more like a teaspoon of dye, or if the citric acid doesn't change anything, you used too much dye for your fibre. you can either shrug and pour it down the drain, or you can add some more fibre and dye that, too.

my rinse water's not clear!

you probably used too much dye. it's ok—just keep rinsing it, gently, until it's more or less clear.

some colours just like to run—you know how every once in a while you get a yarn and it just bleeds a little bit every time you wash it? sometimes it's just like that. i wouldn't worry about it too much.

my fibre has felty/clumpy bits!

a little bit of this is normal, especially at the ends of a fibre that felts easily (this means you, merino!)

pick off the bits that you don't like—this is generally fairly easy, and involves very minimal fibre loss. i don't bother doing it until i sit down to spin, and then just pull off bits as i come to them.

if there's a lot of felty/clumpy bits, more than you can reasonably pick out, you agitated the fibre too much. there's not much for this other than trying to card it out, which may or may not work.

sometimes this happens because your stove got weirdly aggressive and boiled your fibre. especially for wool that's prone to felting, the bubbling and jostling can be enough to encourage more clinginess than you'd like.

i want my dyeing to be reproducible!

this is kinda doable. it's a handmade thing, so it's always going to have some natural variance, but you can do it.

buy a jeweler's scale that measures in fractions of a gram.

start measuring your dye and acid, and take detailed notes about what you do.

follow those notes in the future, and you'll be probably 90% of the way there.

i want to dye with natural dyes!

i fully support this and have played around with it a little bit myself, but absolutely do not know enough about it to advise you.

the internet is very large and full of many people who are much smarter than i am, and i feel confident that at least one of them is desperate to tell you all about how to do natural dyeing.

i am, at this point, not that person.

i want to dye plant fibres!

i am begging you to find another guide, because this one will not work.

you didn't answer my question!

that's what my inbox is for

i have to reiterate that i'm just a person with real specific interests who started dyeing things because i couldn't find or afford the kinds of colourways that i wanted.

i am not a professional

i will do my best to answer questions, but sometimes the answer is 'just fuck around until you find out'

plant fi—

shhhhh

the end

thank you for reading this incredibly long post! i might make another one in the near future, either so i can show pictures or because i took out an entire section about how to choose colours and pick a colour scheme and work with colours, and i kinda want to talk more about that, but this is no joke almost six thousand words long, so i thought, you know. maybe not tonight.

anyhow, i hope that this was useful to someone! thank you for letting me talk about one of my very favourite things.

[kukurykunapatyku]

[I.D.: Drawing of Usopp and Vinsmoke Niji from One Piece. They're both seen from the side, circling around each other, Usopp is aiming his slingshot and Niji is brandishing an electrified sword. Usopp wears sniper king mask, red cape, green pants, brown shoes and blue-white arm warmers. Niji wears black cape with blue '2' on it, blue costiume and yellow-blue boots, he's smirking. /End I.D.]

Vinsmoke shipping week day 4: Red string / Hero x Villain

The neferious Germa group is terrorizing the streets, but fear not, because the great Sniper King is here to save you!

Strawhats are semi-superhero team. Luffy doesn't care about crime, it just happens that bad guys usually target his friends for some reason. Nami somehow convinced him to at least cover his face when they beat up guys on live television.

Niji gets a crush on two people at once and tries to deal with it in completly normal matter - by proving they're actually the same person (he's right).

⬇️Fanfic under readmore⬇️ also on Ao3

Niji carefully pinned the photo next to the others. He frowned, adjusted two more to fit the rest better and stepped back to admire his work. Photos, bus schedules, discarded papers, shard broken off the Sniper King mask, piece of fabric - all gathered together. There was just one thing to do and his board would be complete. He grinned, pulled out a ball of red yarn and began connecting the pins until they formed one massive web of evidence. And like a spider ready for dinner, he finally found that one fly that was pulling at its strings, and come to the single possible conclusion.

"And why, pray tell, do you think one of your regular customers is part of the superhero team? The one that always thwarts father's plans no less?"

"Don't you see?" Niji slammed the board. "It's all here!"

"All I see is an, admittingly ambitious, art project made of coincidences and stalking tendencies."

"Listen, it's too much to just be a coincidence, at this point it's proof."

Ichiji sighed and closed the book he was reading.

"Fine, lets indulge you. What proof?"

"First of, they drink the same coffee - both take exactly two sugar cubes, one puff of cream and two pumps of caramel syrup."

"Why do you know how Sniper King takes his coffee?"

Niji looked at him like he was stupid

"Because I asked him? He's my nemesis, I need to know those things."

"Your nemesis?" Ichiji stuttered. "Since when??"

"About two months ago; we were picking them, don't you remember? You took the witch."

Ichiji tapped his fingers on the table. That didn't sound right, he was sure if something like this happened he would have remembered. If they did it there must have been a purpose, but what? Battle strategies? Did father know? Was Ichiji supposed to tell him? And he picked the Weather Witch? What on earth could Niji be talking about-

Suddenly very tired, Ichiji put his hand on his face and slowly pulled it down.

"Niji. We played 'Fuck, Marry, Kill' about the Strawhats. How did this turn into nemesis thing?"

"Ain't that the same thing? Anyway, we're getting off track." He pointed at the blurry photo of a dark alleyway. "See?"

"See what?"

"Argh, do I have to do everything here? Look, here, it's Sniper's cape!"

Ichiji leaned forward and squinted. True, in the left corner, near the bins, there was something that could be a fragment of red fabric. Or an unlucky rat.

"I followed Usopp one evening and I lost him somewhere here," his finger followed one of the red lines until it reached a cutout of city's map, with big circle drawn in the middle of it. "But I'm sure he didn't walk much further, because he was carrying four of those babies." He tapped on the stock picture of an ice-cream package. "There were other shops on his way and he only stopped to buy them here." Next map had a red cross slapped on it. "Which means he was probably coming closer to home. Other stores in the neighborhood are over there, there, there and there. Since he didn't visit those, he must live somewhere before the road could reach any of them, or he would have just buy ice-cream there."

Niji looked at his brother expectantly. "See now?"

Ichiji blinked a few times. That was impressive recon work, and he could probably agree with him... If he knew what point he was even trying to make.

"So... you think the coffee guy lives somewhere between these streets." He pointed at the marked portion of the map. "But what does it have to do with your theory?"

"Everything! I just showed you, I found a piece of Sniper's cape next to the houses there, it's evidence!"

Ichiji massaged his temples and counted to ten. Did he have to do this? He could just leave. Maybe call Yonji so Niji could bother someone else.

But then, a voice in his head said, you have no excuse if father suddenly decides he wants an audience to hear about another freaking death ray.

If he had to listen to his family's ramblings...

"It's just red fabric, it doesn't necessary mean anything. Plus, your guy could be going to his friends house, or a party. Four boxes of ice-cream is a lot for one person."

Niji waved him away.

"Oh no, I know Usopp will eat it. He once told me he can do even five if he puts his mind to it. Calls it his 'depression repression' meal. And!" He pulled a clipped cloth Ichiji failed to notice before. "Sniper doesn't use any shabby materials! His cape is waterproof, fireproof, really hard to rip and can even withstand acid for a while. And guess what? This piece I took from the alley is exactly that!"

Ichiji sincerely hated that he actually started to consider this. "Still, you can't be sure. A lot of people live there. Plus, if I was trying to hide my identity, I wouldn't throw damming evidence with my garbage. It's more likely, if it even is the same material, that it was thrown there by somebody passing by."

Niji sneered, annoyed that the argument actually made sense.

"We all are hiding our identity; why 'if'?"

"Father's hightech company is one letter away from just spelling his evil codename, we lost a member around the same time Sanji, very publicly, left the family and we barely cover our faces when we go out. Are we hiding our identities?"

"It's different, we're rich. We can do whatever we want and so one will accuse us."

"That just proves my point. I doubt Sniper can afford being find out, so he's probably more cautious handling his leftovers."

"Maybe he's rich too, you don't know that. I mean, he's not since I know it's Usopp, but. Well. Doesn't matter, because I have even more evidence!"

He gestured at another portion of the board, with two papers on it. One seemed to be a photo of Sniper taken in the middle of battle, even more unfocused than the others. The other was a printed selfie of darkskinned guy around 20 years old, with long curly hair and wide smile. But the first thing that caught attention was his- Oh no.

"As you can see," Niji gloated, "they have the same nose!"

Ichiji slammed his forehead on the table.

The twin bang could be heard across the city, in an unkempt apartment (that on paper was shared by five people, which really downplayed how many actually passed by it).

"For the last time Usopp, your favourite barista is not Dengeki Blue just because the hair match!

[rayshippouuchiha]

Alrighty! Please excuse the poor lighting.

Behold!

There was a sale of Bernat Baby Blanket yarn in the Dappled ombres so I bought 3 skeins of 4 colors and the last skein of the blue. The aqua blanket is a diagonal granny stitch, the pink is the classic granny stitch, the yellow is a C2C (corner-to-corner) stitch, and the purple is a simple V stitch. They all have a single crochet stitch in however many rows needed to get the blankets to a similar size. The void photo-bombing is my youngest boy, Wilson. The blue blanket is in the Alpine stitch, which I love love love! Especially in the fluffy blanket, chenille, and velvet yarns. The duck I made with leftover purple yarn to test out a newly bought pattern for a commission from my husband's coworker. I'm planning to make more coordinating ducks for the other 3 blankets.

I finished this blanket during a weekend trip up to NY with a side trip to CT with my mother to visit family. We drove, so I had a lot of time on my hands to work on this. I included a close up of the yarn so you can see the colors better. My mom so loved the yarn too, I gave her the reminder of the last skein. She's got plans now. The yarn, which is acrylic medium weight, has been in my hoard since A.C. Moore closed. I'm trying to use up some yarn before buying any more.

I have another one almost done in blue, aqua, and lime green also Bernat Baby Blanket yarn. It's not done yet since I need to sew another liner in the shape of a ball and stuff it with polyfil to make it machine washer friendly. The pattern is from Moogly's squish line and can be found on her blog and YouTube channel.

Give me a sec and I'll share photos of the two projects on my hook currently. I just learned there's a 10 image limit per post.😆

holy fucking hell babe. All of these are so goddamn gorgeous and the octopus?? to die for. seriously never let anyone tell you that you're not making art cause goddamn

[puuta-heinaa]

Joker Out -sweater series Post 1 Post 2 Post 3 Post 4

Happy Carpe diem's birthday!

As promised, here's the chart now that I've finished the yoke! The four rows I added on the go (20, 22, 29, 31) are now part of the chart, so no need to knit any row twice. I did alter the most annoying cloud rows slightly.

There's "colours only" chart at the end of this post.

What you'll need:

Technique Ladderback jacquard/invisible stranding technique is a MUST, and honestly it makes following the chart easier as well! If you don't feel like learning it, you might want to mark the blue lines with stitch markers. Here's an EXCELLENT video of the technique in Finnish, it's very visual + auto-translated subtitles seemed to work reasonably well, so it might work even for non-Finnish speaking people! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtapBYocY80&t

Yarn I'm using Drops Alaska, 17s/10cm in color 15 and 58 and 3. It is widely available and affordable yarn. It's not soft but it's not worst either, somewhere around 29-33 microns I'd say.

In reality I'm using Drops Nepal 0501 for the grey, as I was going to use Nepal in the first place as it is a lovely yarn!!!! I'd say around 25-27 microns, and 35% alpaca, makes even warmer sweater! Colours are sold out in most places in Jan and Feb as it's always on big sale in Nov-Dec, but 6790 or 1709 would work for blue, and 2923 for the yellow.

I used one skein of grey, 1(2) skeins of yellow and as I'm making a crop version like I always do, about 8 skeins of main colour. If you want a regular sweater, you'll need 10-12 skeins of blue depending on your height.

Friendly reminder to check your local shepherd's and local mills' yarns before buying Drops, if that is something you financially can afford.

Needles 5 mm needles. I've recenlty fallen in love with addi's unicorn needles. They're easy for the hands as they are slightly shaped. No need to grip hard = more knitting time per day! And they're pretty! You want to use lacquered or metallic needles for this yarn, you will struggle with bamboo needles.

Some adjustments The chart is not scaled. It's one size. It makes size M/L. The widest part of the yoke is 150 cm, and I'm aiming for 100-105cm for the body. If you need a bigger sweater, use yarn that has 15 or 12 s/10cm and bigger needles, or add a few (blue) stitches on each side of the chart. If you need a smaller sweater, use yarn that has 18-20 s/10 cm and smaller needles. Do some math before choosing your yarn. And please swatch!! It's boring and annoying but you will thank yourself later.

+ stitch markers (you can use yarn loops)

I'll write up the whole pattern once I have energy to do that. I started with 86 stitches, knit rib for 5 rows, placed the stitch markers (17,17,17,17,18), did some shaping for the neck (5 short rows with 42 stitches in total) and moved on to the chart. 1-2 rows with just blue to cast off the ladders, and then I'll move on to sleeves. I don't promise my pattern will be any clearer than these quick notes right here, but if you know someone who knits or have already knit few sweaters, these should give you a decent starting point.

OK ON TO THE CHARTS.

One with only the colours. The numbers on the cloud are upside down when you're knitting, but they still help somewhat (I had put them in the same table/layer with the colours, and couldn't hide them easily, so we'll just have to live with them.)

Dark grey boxes are stitches that don't exist yet, but where will be a stitch later on on the chart. You add the stitches on rows where the boxes turn white.

And the second; what you might want to embroider on the suns and clouds as finishing touches.

And yoke part of the sweater for those who hadn't yet seen it yet and didn't click the links:

[estrellami-1]

Sometimes i feel like my life would be Better if I just. Lived out in the woods somewhere. I grew my own food, I chopped wood for a fire. I’d stockpile nuts like a squirrel, pick berries like a bird, and when winter would come, I’d stay warm and cozy in my little house with a fire, enough to warm me and the one room I live in. It’s a little crowded, a little cramped, but I don’t need much. Maybe I go down to the nearest town in the summer, sell some vegetables at a market, and use the money I’d get to purchase yarn. I’d make warm sweaters. And when I had plenty—because it’s easy to make a sweater when all you have to do is crochet, since things don’t grow in the winter—I’d make more, and sell them at the market, and not worry about labor costs. It’s a labor of love, that is all. I just request enough to buy more yarn. And out of the goodness of their heart, someone would give me enough to buy lots of yarn. Maybe I transition to blankets, and make more for my bed. A veritable nest of blues and yellows and reds and whatever colors I find that I like. Maybe I’d start to sell blankets, too. Maybe.

…But then I remember I have allergies and don’t, in fact, actually like the Outdoors, as much as I may like gardening, because Outdoors is where the bugs are.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Waylon probably has a horrible time trying to find blankets that are big enough to sleep all the way under, so what would his reaction be if someone made him a blanket (crochet, knitting, quilting, whatever) specifically so it wouldn't be too small for him to sleep under?

"Big and Tall" Killer Croc x Reader

Yeah, I bet! I'd never thought of it before, even if I sometimes have the problem of blankets being a tad too short;;; I went a little more friendly neutral for the relationship for this one!

TW: None

Waylon has had the issue of clothing, blankets, etc being too small for him from the time he was a teenager. It only got worse the taller he got over the years. Big and tall stores are such a precious commodity especially in some of the places he's been in before Gotham... He's gotten used to having to get things custom made, even when he barely had the money for it.

When you tell him you have the hobby of making blankets and the like, he jokes you should make him one. You know, since you're obviously so good at it.

He wasn't expecting you to work on one for months just in time for fall. How much yarn did you BUY? You must have filled a whole room with just yarn! Yet it's so soft... A blend of chocolatey brown, maroons, and blues- he's almost terrified of tearing it open with his claws. You tell him once you'd picked the color you knew he'd like, you bought it all out practically. It cost a pretty penny, but he didn't need to know that.

The truth of it is, he's INCREDIBLY touched. He's at least vaguely aware how long it takes to really make a good blanket, much less one suited for his size. This thing is going to get used the moment it gets too cold and possibly in the summer too with the AC cranked all the way up. Ultimate comfort. Pretty much all the time. It sits on his couch when not in use, so you'll physically see it when you visit.

He feels like he needs to make it up for you. While he's not good at crafting, why don't you tell him a recipe you really like? Or even one you miss? He'll make it special for you, just name a time and a place. Either it'll be a wonderful evening with friends or... under the right circumstances, could turn into a date.

[annaraebananawriter]

"Someone who’s eaten that much ice cream is clearly not okay. come on, talk to me." With Dream, Ink and Blue for the quote thingy please I love them

I think this drabble is actually 100% fluff. Which...is a first for me, I think. I am unsure how to feel about it. (Lie: I am really happy with this drabble and I hope you are too. I had lots of fun.)

Now, will all my talk of Star Sans Poly lately, I have gotten myself in the mood for it, so some of that might've bled into this drabble. But I think it's more so in a 'before they realized they loved each other' sort of way than anything else.

Small warning for cursing and mentioned animal death and I think that's it. Let me know!

Happy reading! Prompt is italicized.

~oOo~

Ink checked his phone as Blue pulled into the driveway. "Still haven't heard from him."

"Well, he can't ghost us anymore."

See, last week, they had agreed--all three of them, that is; Ink, Blue, and Dream--to go out on a fun little night this weekend. Ink needed some more yarn, as he was on a knitting kick lately and had run out of the bulk of the yarn he bought at the beginning. They planned to go shopping first, first art stuff, then maybe clothes and a few other places, then it was dinner time, where they would be eating at a dinner they all liked and frequented, and then it was off to the movies, where they would watch the one that was finally here that they'd been looking forward to all year.

Blue had been looking forward to this night all week. It'd been a couple of months since the three of them had hung out together. No fault of any of theirs, things have just been busy. But he was missing his friends, a lingering ache in his chest the longer his messages on his phone remained bare and the more nights he had with uninterrupted peaceful sleep.

That's how he knew it was getting bad--he was even missing Ink's late-night phone calls that kept him up for an hour before he finally convinced the artist to either sleep or reminded him to do something else.

And, finally, the night came. He met up with Ink and they wandered around the shop they agreed to meet at, waiting for Dream...who never showed.

They tried reaching out, texting and calling multiple times, but nothing came of it. Dream seemed to ignore the attempts. Which was frustrating. Concerned, they weighed the decision of continuing on with the night with just the two of them. If Dream knew they gave up a night of fun just because of him, he'd be immensely guilty. He'd try making it up to them by buying them expensive gifts, which they would accept, though the gesture indirectly made them guilty as well. They didn't want Dream to get upset, but it seemed like, no matter what decision they made, it would end in that.

What other reason would Dream have for ghosting them if he wasn't upset in the first place? And if he was upset, then he needed his friends more than ever. That took priority over any kind of fun they had planned.

With a shared nod, Ink and Blue hopped in the car and drove to their friend's house. It was their first guess as to where he might be; Dream loved to isolate himself inside when he was sad. And sure enough, the lights were on, though Dream's car wasn't in the driveway. Nor was Nightmare's.

They didn't bother knocking. Blue already had a spare key, entrusted to him for emergencies. And he considered this an emergency.

As soon as the door was open, Ink strode in and followed the sound of the television, stopping briefly in the doorway before disappearing. "Scooch over," Blue heard Ink say, and the sound of someone sniffing and shuffling over.

Shutting the door behind him, setting down his things, and taking off his shoes, he entered the living room as well, being faced with a sorry sight he hadn't seen since high school.

Small ice cream bins littered the coffee table, along with tissues and a cracked phone. The source of the mess lay on the couch, cocooned in the quilt from his bed, now having moved over to make room for Ink, who leaned against Dream, focus already on the TV. Smiling, Blue locked eyes with Dream, who sniffed again. His friend handed Ink the halfway-eaten ice cream and held up his hands, silently asking for a hug.

Which Blue was happy to give. Squeezing himself into the corner on Dream's other side, he wrapped his arms around his friend and he started crying all over again. "Hey, it's okay," he said, rubbing his back. "What's wrong?"

Dream sniffed. "Nothing." His voice was muffled by Blue's shirt.

Ink snorted, eating a spoonful of the ice cream. "Bullshit. Someone who’s eaten that much ice cream is clearly not okay."

Shaking his head, Blue nudged Dream, asking him to look at him. "Come on, talk to me." Giving him a smile, he tried to do the puppy dog eyes his friends always did. He couldn't tell if they worked, but Dream did sigh, sitting up to rest his head on Blue's shoulder.

"It's nothing, really," Dream said, "Just a whole bunch of bad days. Which made this a shitty week." Pausing, he sighed again, more heavily this time. "Which sorta made me forget about our plans. I'm sorry."

"Not important right now." Ink said. "Plans can always be remade."

"Ink's right. Please, continue. Tell us about this shitty week."

Chuckling, Dream stifled a cough with his hand. "Okay. So, you know my boyfriend, right? Well, my ex-boyfriend now, I guess. Broke up with me. Through text, of course. This was back at the start of the week, which pretty much makes it the start of it all.

"Because that day, I got stuck in the middle of the rain without an umbrella. And this was after being trapped in traffic, which made me late for work. And speaking of work, all week long it seems like it's just been putting pets down or animals brought in from the road that we can't save. All week! And then, just a couple of days ago, my car wouldn't start, which meant Nightmare had to come and pick me up from work. My car's in the shop now, but it won't be fixed until Monday."

Taking a breath, he rubbed his face, continuing. "And then yesterday, my phone fell and broke. So, if you called me or texted me, I never got them. Sorry. Nightmare left this morning for a small work trip. He wanted to hold off on it, but I convinced him to go. He'll be back on Monday anyway. So, I've been stuck here in the house, which was fine at the start. I thought it could work as a reset, make next week better. But things have just been breaking, all over the place! First the sink, then the freezer, then a couple of plates and glasses."

Dream sniffed. Again. "And I decided to just take a break, lay down and watch a movie, eat some ice cream. Turned the TV on, and what seemed like a normal rom-com was playing. So I watched that. But then it turned sad, and no matter what I went to, all of it was sad movies! So, then I just started crying, and just couldn't stop." Sighing, he leaned further into Blue. "And now I think I'm getting sick."

"Aw, you poor thing." Ink cooed, grinning. He pulled Dream over to him, wrapping him in a big hug. "I did think you were being dramatic at first, but no, that is a shitty week." Tightening his grip, Ink's grin widened. "This calls for an exorcism."

Dream struggled to free himself from the hug. "Ink, I can't breathe!"

Ink hugged him even tighter. "I won't let you go until all the shittyness is expelled from you."

"Ink!"

Blue laughed before finally taking pity. "Okay, okay. Ink, stop." Huffing, Dream sat up, glaring at Ink. Blue grabbed him by cupping his cheeks and turned his head side to side, looking him over closely. "Hm...have you eaten yet today?"

Dream blinked, thrown by the change in subject. "Nightmare made breakfast." Pausing, he closed his eyes with a sigh. "But I forgot to have any. I even put the leftovers in the fridge when he left."

"So, you've just had ice cream?"

"Yeah."

"I see." Blue gave him another inspection. "Just as I figured, then. You need a proper meal. Maybe some medicine, then, if you're getting sick. And then, a cheerful movie, which Ink will pick, along with some cuddles." Before Dream could think of protesting, Blue held up a finger. "And that's doctor's orders."

"You're only in med school." Dream rolled his eyes. But he was smiling. "Not a doctor yet."

"Still."

"But, yes, that does sound wonderful." Dream smiled up at him. "Thank you, Blue." He then turned to Ink. "And thank you, too, Ink, even if you tried to suffocate me."

Finishing off the ice cream, Ink wagged a finger. "I exorcised you."

"It felt like suffocation."

"Good! Then it was working. We should get back to it then..."

"Ink!"

Dream tried to get away, but Ink was faster. He knew all of Dream's ticklish spots, too, which was an advantage. Dream shrieked with laughter, making Ink laugh, and the sound of both their laughs made Blue laugh, a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he beamed.

Yes, he thought to himself. That's more like it. These two deserved to be laughing, not mopping around. They delivered to be happy and passionate, a bright future ahead of them. And Blue loved them so much, more than anyone else he was friends with, he would make sure they got what they deserved.

That's what friends were for, after all.

[redheadgleek]

2023 review - knitting

Here’s some of the pics of my knitting projects for the year:

Anne/Diana/Gilbert dolls (from Anne of Green Gables):

These took me nearly two years to complete – I basically knit Anne twice because my knitting gauge had changed so much in that time. I have to redo Gilbert’s hair (the mohair I bought was poorly dyed and not all of it is black), but I love them so much. I knit all of the bodies and knit all of the clothes (except for the petticoats and the buttons).

I added a “petticoat” of lace to her dress because her dress was so short. Her hair has already lost the curls.

Aren’t those braids the sweetest? I’ve started making Kurt and Blaine dolls (from glee) and have visions of Mulder and Scully and all of the hobbits and ….

Orchid and Gold Poppins scarf:

This was knit from a yummy alpaca/tencel/linen blend and it’s so soft. I love how the colors migrated over the scarf. I gave this one to my mom for Mother’s Day. I’m tempted to buy more and make one for me because it is so lovely.

Grandpa sweater:

Super bulky, soft warm yarn – I’ve bought several skeins of it over the last few years when stores have gone out of business and decided to destash and make my first sweater – I used 8 skeins, plus some remnants. It knit up pretty quickly, because it was so bulky and it’s very warm. If I were to redo it, I would extend the sleeves a few more rows and shift the pockets over.

Christmas scarves:

I’ve been slowly making scarves for my Plethora girlfriends. Made again with Rasta, because it’s so soft and luxurious, and I’ve been trying out different stitches and patterns for each one.

The blue and purple ones have been blocked, I just need to sew in the ends; the red one has not. I have yarn for 2 more scarves.

[garden-of-violets]

Giorno Giovanna with an s/o who crochets/knits!

Character(s): Giorno Giovanna

Type: Headcanons

A/n: I wrote this because I love crocheting and I recently got back into it after two years. I’ve made a couple hats, and I’m working on a bag ♡ (I don’t know as much about knitting as I do crocheting, so I’m going off of my limited knowledge on knitting!!)

♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡︎•♡

♡ Giorno, in all honesty, wasn’t that surprised when you’d mentioned that you liked to crochet. It’s an activity known to be calming, and in your line of work, he’s happy to know that you have a calming activity to help you get through it.

♡ He actually doesn’t know much about crochet. He knows it’s similar to knitting, in the sense that you’re using yarn to create, but that’s about all he knows. Knitting and crocheting aren’t things he ever got into (that’s not surprising).

♡ He’s very supportive of it!! He may not know much, but he’s happy to help support your hobby! He thinks it’s very fun and absolutely adores to see all the fun stuff you create!

♡ He started looking into the hobby more after you’d mentioned it to him. He quickly gained a love for crocheted/knit flower bouquets. He thinks they’re quite sweet. He also really likes the small knit animals he sees people online making. (The small plush crocheted ladybugs are his favourite.)

♡ Giorno likes to give gifts. He usually gifts you flowers, jewelry, or small trinkets you’ll like. Although, once he becomes aware of your love for this hobby, you’ll often be gifted some balls of yarn! He’ll start to buy you some yarn he’ll think you like and he’ll pick the prettiest of colours. He will buy you any yarn you want.

♡ You want blue yarn? He’s already got it on his list. You need some fluffier yarn? Don’t worry, he’ll have it for you asap. He won’t hesitate to support your hobby.

♡ (Sometimes he’ll even buy you little books that are full with different kinds of designs and projects for you to try!)

♡ If you ever gift him a project, he’ll be overjoyed. He won’t show much excitement, but you best know he appreciates everything you give him.

♡ If you ever gift him a crocheted/knit flower bouquet, he’ll keep it in a rose-coloured vase on his office desk for him to look at everyday. If you crochet/knit him a hat or some gloves, he’ll wear them whenever it’s appropriate. He absolutely adores anything you give him. (Maybe he’ll even ask you to make him some gloves sometime, it does get a bit chilly in the winter and he’d love something handmade from you!)

♡ Whenever he finds some patterns or projects online that he thinks you’d like, he’ll send them to you to help you come up with ideas for your next project. (You often get sent photos of tiny knit animals and flower themed projects.)

♡ When you start trying to teach him how to knit/crochet, he finds it a bit difficult. Knitting is hard (and truthfully it looks kinda scary) and crocheting is just a bit difficult to figure out. He doesn’t give up that easily though, and it’s not like you would let him anyway.

♡ He tries his best! Maybe one day he’ll be able to gift you a handmade knit/crocheted flower bouquet full of your favourite flowers!

♡ Once he actually got the hang of it, he made you a small teddy bear.

♡ Overall, he’s very supportive of your hobby and loves anything you make for him!

[ripplestitchskein]

@solarpunk-0possum asked for a guide on solar yarn dyeing and I wrote this up because I’m a nutcase. It’s long but hopefully informative.

Its actually really easy and there’s cool things you can do with it. Chemknits on YouTube has some fun projects too, their channel is the ultimate dye channel imo. But I’m going to give you a crash course here because I like doing that.

Let’s start with fiber.

For acid dyes it needs to be a protein based fiber, it can be a blend, so wool and nylon for example but depending on the fiber it may look slightly different. I almost exclusively use Wool2Dye4 platinum sock for my yarn base which is 75% super wash merino wool and 25% nylon but for more environmentally friendly dyeing, as super washing isn’t great, you can go non super wash wool or other natural protein based fiber. Paradise Fibers and KnitPicks also have white yarn bases. There are other companies but most won’t let you buy single skeins as they are geared toward commercial dyers. I buy in bulk cause I do a lot of dyeing.

If you get a non super wash wool yarn it can felt but this process minimizes that risk significantly. Handling it a lot, stirring or squeezing and temp changes are what cause wool to felt. I also dye 100% wool top and roving in many varieties with this same method. This technique is great for that because your felting risk is super low since you aren’t stirring or changing temps until you rinse and even then the temp change is a lot less and your fiber stays together.

If you do a fiber like silk it is going to react a lot differently so you want to play around to get the hue you want. Silk is notoriously tricky but gorgeous.

Plant based fibers need a different totally different dye and mordant though, I’ll get into that later but if you have a hemp, linen, bamboo or viscose or something you can still do this. Even synthetic fibers like white acrylic or nylon can be dyed just needs a different dye and I can’t speak to the efficacy of solar as I’ve never dyed them but nylon blend works so I don’t see why not.

Now to the dyes.

Acid reactive dyes are dyes that react and bind to fiber once acid is introduced to the party. I use white vinegar or citric acid. You can buy acid dyes from companies like Jacquard or Dharma Trading, there are several companies but these are my personal favs. Jacquard has a red, blue and yellow set that is great to start with as you mix your own colors using basic color wheel principles.

You don’t have to buy special dye though!!

You can dye with Kool Aid or Easter egg dyeing pellets or food coloring (gel or liquid), cake sprays, bath bomb colors etc. It just won’t be as color and light fast. But if you are just playing around it’s super fun and safe and I have skeins that kept their colors for years no issue. Also using those food based dyes can be done with children where I wouldn’t with acid dyes.

For acid dyes you want to use equipment that won’t ever touch food again, so you need specific jars and spoons and such that are just for dyeing. I have dedicated dyeing equipment (stock pot, crock pot, tongs, spoons, etc) but I purchased all of it at thrift shops for super cheap.

I also use a N95 mask or respirator whenever I open my dye powder jars to not breath in particulates. I also wear glasses or safety goggles. I wear a mask for ANY powder even Kool Aid. It’s just good PPE. I am bad about wearing gloves though….I should be better. Wear gloves.

For this project as far as equipment all you need are glass mason jars. I used 2quart so the yarn could move freely but 1quart or smaller will work too you just might need to put in less yarn. You also need plastic or paper cups to mix dye in if you are mixing. If you are using an acid dye or even a Kool Aid you need gloves, and a mask.

I do recommend a scale but it is not necessary, 1 tsp of acid dye is usually = 1 gram but check the manufacturer documentation. If you are using food coloring or Kool Aid you don’t need special dedicated stuff at all.

You will also need an acid like white vinegar or citric acid. Kool Aid, and PAS easter pellets or other powdered drink mixes usually have an acid in them so you can use them as is but I always add a little extra acid for better color adhesion.

For plant based fibers you need a fiber reactive dye and a mordant like soda ash or alum . Procion has a Pro MX line. You can also dye with natural materials like indigo, madder, onion skins, marigold, avocado etc. Some people recommend soaking or boiling your fiber in your chosen mordant but tbh I’ve done it just throwing everything in the jar and had good results so 🤷‍♀️. You can get soda ash and alum on Amazon or other sources like Dharma Trading. For plant based dyeing you just put the leaves or roots depending on the material in the jar with everything. Natural dyeing takes A LOT longer than acid or fiber reactive dyes for solar dyeing but it’s still fun and MUCH better for environment.

For synthetic fibers like acrylic you have to use something like Rit. I don’t do this very often (or at all really) and have never solar dyed acrylic as I just buy acrylic yarn in the color I want when I use it, but I assume it would work the same? I cannot guarantee it though. I’ve also seen people use acrylic paint mixed with water to dye yarn, it just changes the texture slightly so your mileage may vary with synthetics. I don’t recommend using them though. You can get 100% wool, linen, bamboo etc at craft stores pretty easily now a days.

So now that you have your dye and your fiber let’s get dyeing!

Prepping the Fiber

Weigh your yarn. You can use a kitchen scale. This will help you figure out how much dye to use to get the shade you want. This calculator for acid dyes is great for figuring out how much dye stock solution you need. For Kool Aid or Food Coloring it’s just vibes based for me but someone has probably figured out the amounts. We’ll get there.

To prevent tangling I recommend tying your yarn off in the skein at regular intervals. You can see my purple yarn ties in the pic below. I also use reusable zip ties. If you buy yarn the skeins usually come pre-tied but I skein up my own yarn so yeah. I also will put a zip tie or large piece of yarn at either end to keep it orderly. You can also just put entire cakes wound up from a ball winder, or an entire skein from the store in the jar too though, you’ll get different effects from the natural resist of it being wound up but it’s super fun to see what happens.

Soak your yarn, if you want more color variation you can do it dry, that’s often how tonals and semi solids are dyed as the dye binds or “strikes” to the fiber at different rates so feel free to experiment. You can also presoak your yarn in an acid and water mixture for different effects as well. It’s all about experimentation! Even your dye can do things differently depending on if the dye “breaks”, that’s where different pigments make up the dye and will strike at different temps, the Purple Pop I used in this example is a dye that will break into blues and reds or different purples if I do different things with the heat. For natural you can soak in your mordant like alum or soda ash. You probably want to get more detailed instructions on amounts though, I just look it up when I do it as I never remember and it takes me forever to gather enough plant material so it’s only a once or twice a year thing.

In this example I soaked my yarn in plain water for about 30 minutes before I added any dye as I was going for a solid.

While your yarn is soaking you can mix your dyes!

Mixing Dye:

If you are using acid dyes you can add your dye powder directly to the water you are dying in until it looks like you want. I dip pieces of paper towel into it to get an idea of what it looks like color wise, or what I do for greater precision with different color saturations and to not waste dye is mix a dye stock solution.

It sounds scarier than it is. A dye stock solution is suspending the dye molecules in water to make a concentration of dye. My dye stocks are 1 part to 100 for a 1% solution. So for Dharma dyes I mix 1 gram (1 part) to 100ml hot water (100 parts). Once I have my dye stock mixed I can use that to determine how many milliliters of dye I want to introduce to my yarn. The calculator I linked can tell you how much for the depth of shade you want but for an example if I want a mid saturation at 2% for a 50g skein I would use 100ml of dye stock. If I want a much lighter shade at .5% I would only use 25ml. If I want just the regular color at 1% I use whatever the fiber weighs in ml, so 50ml for a 50g skein. The skeins above are 2% of Sour Apple and Purple Pop except for the lighter green which was .5% of Sour Apple. If I wanted pastels I usually do like .025%.

The calculation is Weight of Fiber x Depth of Shade for a 1% dye stock solution. You can make stronger dye stocks like 2 grams per 100ml for a 2% but I find just using 1% much easier cause math is annoying but the calculator will let you do that too.

For Kool Aid or Food Coloring just mix your color in water and dip in pieces of paper towel until it’s approximately the shade you want. It’s not 100 accurate as paper towel is different than your fiber but is pretty close, or at least gives you an idea if you have a deep shade or a pastel shade. If it’s too dark add more water, too light add more dye.

For natural dye you can’t really determine what shade you’ll get as plants have too many variables, there are some general guidelines for most common dye materials that can give you an idea though and generally less material is lighter and more material is darker.

The Full Process:

Weigh your yarn if you are trying to get a more precise depth of shade. Then you can use the calculations above to determine how much dye. If you are just playing you can skip this. If you bought skeins they usually tell you if it’s 100g or 25g etc so no need to weigh.

I filled my jars with plain water and put the yarn in (make sure it’s loose, I made the mistake with my first batch last weekend of accidentally leaving it twisted in the skein and it formed a resist, I just overdyed and still got some pretty skeins so nothing lost but if you want white spots or different depts of shade throughout feel free to add some resist by leaving it skeined or tying off sections like tie dye!).

When filling your jars remember we need room at the top to add dye and acid so just fill until the yarn moves freely, you can always top it off after. Can you tell I’ve made this mistake?

I let it soak for about 30 minutes while I prepared my dye stock.

Once my dye was mixed and my yarn had soaked I determined how much dye I wanted to use. Then just add the dye into the jar. I let my yarn sit in the dye without acid for another 30 minutes. I put the lid on and shook it up to make sure it penetrated all the yarn. Again, if you want different effects you can add the acid in now, don’t mix it, etc but for a solid you want as even coverage as possible.

Then I added the acid. I used 1/4 cup acid cause that’s what I always use for some reason but you can add just 1 or 2 tablespoons. I used white vinegar. I usually use a citric acid mix with water but I ran out. It doesn’t matter the vinegar smell fades.

I put my lid on, gave it a good mix and I was done. Now for the sun part.

What makes the dye bond to fiber is a proportion of acid, heat and time. With kettle dyeing in a pot on the stove or similar you introduce heat rapidly but in this case it’s not so much about the temp as it is the UV and time. You don’t have to put your jars in direct sunlight outside, a sun facing window is fine too. Your jars do need to be clear though.

I put mine outside. You can still solar dye if it’s overcast or even if it’s kinda cold it just might take more time.

Then just leave it! You’ll know it’s done when the water is clear, the yarn can make it appear like it’s not clear but pool it at the top of the jar to check on it.

This is called exhausting the dye, all the dye molecules have found a friend in the fiber and adhered to it. Some dyes do not exhaust completely, either because there is too much dye for the weight of fiber and all the molecules have already found their friend, or because of the dye itself. The Purple Pop is really bad about exhausting. If it’s been several days and you aren’t seeing a change it may be done, in that case just take your yarn out but add another skein in with some more acid, no need to waste it, you’ll get a lighter shade. I usually have a yarn mop for collecting non-exhausted dye. I just throw it in and see what happens, sometimes with many different colors.

The length of time you leave it out depends on a lot of factors, natural plant based dyes can take months, these acid based dyes took two days in Central FL but honestly the greens were exhausted in like 18 hours and the purple I didn’t see any change so I just took it out and put another skein in, its cooking now. I usually give my acid or Kool Aid dye projects no more than a week cause I’m impatient and always have had good results. Plant based I’ll leave for months.

After you remove your yarn you can dump the water. If I dump it outside I add a little baking soda to neutralize the acid, or just let it sit for awhile. I don’t like to dump it near water sources like wells or any food based gardens but have used it to water flowers and stuff. If using Kool Aid or food coloring you can do whatever. I’ve also reused my water for another dye if it’s totally clear or if I don’t care if there’s a bit leftover.

Then wash and rinse your yarn! I use Kookabura Wool Wash but you can use anything like Dawn dish soap. You may have a bit of bleeding depending on the color or none at all, just rinse and repeat until the water runs clear. If it’s a lot of bleeding and you are washing and rinsing and it just won’t run clear you can steam set it by wrapping it in plastic wrap while still wet and microwaving it or steaming it in a steamer basket like you would a vegetable. If you microwave just don’t burn your yarn! I do like 30 second intervals in the microwave until it’s hot to the touch but I rarely have to do this.

For non super wash wool or wool top/rocing that will felt you need to do this gently. Don’t run water directly on the fiber, handle it as little as possible, don’t introduce extreme temperature changes etc. The temp is less of a concern for solar though, that mostly applies to kettle where you go from hot to cold.

Then hang to dry! If you tied off your skein it should be tangle free, but you may need to shake or comb it a bit to get rid of curly bits. I use a dedicated salad spinner to really get it dry first then hang and it’s usually totally dry in a few hours.

And that’s it! Hope this helped, sorry it’s so long.

[gaviicreates]

Craft week in review

Good Morning, and Happy Sunday! Here in the US, we just caught up with the rest of the world with that twice annual clock adjusting we do. Those of you without daylight savings, you know where it's at. In any case, Northern Hemisphere means we got extra sleep today, so not too many complaints from me here. Even the dogs accepted the lie in, which was amazing.

I'm still figuring out how I want to use this blog space. My impulse posts I can't put here, because I used a log in type that requires me to be on my laptop. That means you get the nice pictures, the reflections, the organized WIPs updates, but none of that is helpful in keeping the space active. What are you, blog? An archive, a journal, a gallery?

Please bear with me while I figure it out. I get that the pictures of the finished objects are what tends to inspire people, but I like writing and sharing the journey, even if those musings are not as entertaining. I'm still working on the balance.

~*~

Doilies

Last week, I primarily worked on blocking some finished doilies I had to work on over a couple of days. I only have one set of blocking boards with the circle lines for me to properly measure out the doilies evenly. I'm fine throwing my own stuff on the normal boards and eye-balling it, but not for commissions. With those finished I decided to open up some more local commissions, which quickly filled with family members, and posed the question a bit more in general to the online audience. So four more commissions have joined my schedule, though not all of them need to be in by Christmas.

In the meantime, I started another tree doily, and I plan to take pictures of those pieces soon so I can share them. Here's a phone one to hold you over.

Purchases/Acquisitions

I had a couple purchases last week - and some quick turn arounds. In the yarn world, I placed an order for some Hobbii Rainbow Lace which is one of my go-tos for when specific colors are requested. The yardage is not as much as one might get with Aunt Lydia's from the local JOANN or Michaels, but the shades they carry are so rich and varied. Plus, I'd been eyeing up a rust color I needed an excuse to add to my cart. I also grabbed some dark reds and soft greens to play around with Christmas shades.

Of the hand-dyers, one of the brands I follow is Hue Loco out of Colorado. As with hand-dyed, you're paying for what I consider a luxury material, so as much as I would like to buy everything I do try to splurge sparingly for the sake of my wallet. But I stumbled upon a colorway that was perfect for a project I'd been planning, and since it was going to be a gift for my husband, I didn't mind going the hand-dyed route. The colorway is called "Magpie" and it's a beautiful blend of blues and greys with a sprinkling of browns. SW 100% Merino in worsted. This one came in yesterday, and I couldn't resist working it up right away.

I may have also purchased something for myself while I was on their site. Shh.

I also splurged and ordered some Furls wooden streamline hooks I'd been wanting - in Ebony. One of my dogs got ahold of one of the nice resin colors that were no longer in stock, so I couldn't re-order it when it made unusable.

Expensive week for me! But it'll be the last for awhile while I budget instead for Christmas and start working on the projects these materials were purchased for. For a last hurrah before the holidays, I'm happy with these selections.

Upcoming

The sock DPN class I signed up for starts tomorrow, and knit night at my LYS on Tuesday.

I have one more more doily to block, the next tree one to finish, and the commissions pending.

The new Furls Hooks should arrive next week. Hobbii is enroute.

WIPS: My sky blanket project is making great progress - I've been able to keep up with it and the goal will be to provide an update monthly around the middle of the month. Chevron Scarf was put on hold this week, but maybe I will work on it some today to give me a knitting break.

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

It's that time of year again where I don't feel bad about buying discount yarn by justifying it as an birthday present to myself.

At least this time I had a strong idea of how I was going to use everything I bought. Keyword "had", now that I can see the yarn in person I'm not feeling as confident.

The orange hanks (Koigu Premium Merino in colourway 1113) look really good on camera but is much more peachy in person. Which isn't to my taste and not what I expected. I'm no longer sure what I want to make with it, probably something either purely practical (like a knee/elbow warmer) or a gift for someone, maybe a colourwork cowl? Or a hat for my dad to keep in his car during the winter time

The blue skeins (Paintbox Socks in Kingfisher Blue 1434) are a little bit more on me, I expected a lighter, brighter blue and didn't do enough research to double check. It's still very pretty so I'm not too disappointed, but I had planned to knit a shawl with the paintbox, the more teal blue hank (Cloudborn Fibers Superwash Sock Twist in Lagoon), and the light grey hank (Cascade Heritage Sock in Grey 5660). I still think there's a project in there somewhere, but I'm not happy with both blues together.

I've been trying not to just buy yarn because it's pretty and only buy when I have an actual project in mind, I have a big enough stash that I don't need to add more to it (arguably i need to give some away/donate it/sell it, a lot of it does not spark joy anymore now that i know what i like to create). Hopefully it doesn't take long for me to figure out what I would like to do with them.

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found -Chapter 13

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings:  profanity

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @thesirenrealm @asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @karimac @starryeyes2000 @timbradfordsboot @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @arrthurpendragon​

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/120781585

​My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

******

“Which one is your favourite?” Millie inquires, as they sit side by side in a corner booth; tucked away from the breakfast rush that’s invaded The Continental’s dining area. “Pancakes, waffles, or French Toast?”

Tyler rifles through the plastic container of crayons open in front of him, selecting a blue and a red, then returning to the sheet of paper spread across the table. “Pancakes.”

“Me too! With lots of butter and syrup! But sometimes, I’ll put strawberry jam on them. Have you ever had that? It’s delish.”

“I haven’t. Guess it’s something I’ll have to try.”

“Maybe when we’re at your house, we can make pancakes together. Momma and I do that every Sunday morning. I get to stand on a chair and help. Mom ALWAYS lets me stir the batter. But the pancakes are never very good ‘cause she isn’t the best cook in the world and…”

“Hey!” Esme objects, and reaches across the table to playfully tug on one of her daughter’s pigtails. “I am sitting right here.”

“I’m sorry, mom. I love you. Bunches. But you can’t cook for shit.”

“I’ve somehow managed to keep you alive for four years, haven’t I? My food can’t be THAT bad.”

“I mean, it’s not horrible. But it’s not great either. I can STILL eat it. Just sometimes I have to pretend it tastes like something else. So I CAN get it down.”

“You’re a savage, you know that.”

“I woke up today and chose violence.”

“How about choosing NOT to throw me under the bus?”

“You always tell me that honesty is the best policy. And I was just being honest, so…” She sips at her chocolate milk and then addresses Tyler once more. “Momma is a really awesome baker though! She always makes my birthday cakes and sends cupcakes or cake pops to school with me so my class can have some goodies too! She bakes all kinds of awesome stuff. Brownies and cookies and pies. And these really yummy things made with mushed-up frosted flakes and chocolate and marshmallows. She even sells her stuff sometimes. At the market near our old place.”

“We used to live in Queens,” Esme explains, when Tyler looks to her for clarification. “We had an apartment there. A walk up in an old brownstone. There’s a little pop-up market every Saturday. I would spend the better part of a week baking and then Millie and I would go to the market on the weekend and make some money. We don’t do it as much anymore now that we live…LIVED…in Manhattan.”

“It was a lot of fun! I loved going to the market,” Millie says. “‘Cause when momma sold all her stuff, we’d walk around and she’d buy me all kinds of goodies that other people were selling. Treaties and stuff. This was this lady there that made dresses and hats and even dolls. She made me Posie for my third birthday. See…” Reaching, for the doll that rests between her and the wall, the four-year-old proudly places it on the tabletop. A Holly Hobby inspired creation; sandy blond hair made from yarn, a purple and pink paisley dress and matching hat, and pink vinyl shoes.. “...this is Posie. Momma had her made to look just like me.”

Tyler shows the doll his full attention; Millie anxiously awaiting his admiration and praise. “She’s beautiful. Just like you. Pink and purple are your favourite colours?”

“They’re my top two. But I like other colours, too. Blue and green and orange. And camo. I know that’s not a colour, but I really like it. Especially the one that makes you look like GI Joe.”

“You know who GI Joe is?”

“Yup. I have a whole box full of them! Momma got them at the secondhand place.” Her smile diminishes and her eyes darken; lips forming a pout. “But they didn’t get brought with us. When we had to leave the house. I wish we could go and get them. And some of my other stuff. Auntie Nik says we can’t; ‘cause the bad guys will find us there. But I really miss my stuff.”

“Maybe we can get Uncle Yaz to go and get some of your stuff,” Esme suggests. “He can take a couple of people with him to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. But we can’t bring EVERYTHING, baby. I wish we could.”

“And if we can’t bring it, we’ll get it for you,” Tyler adds. “When we get wherever we’re going. Maybe you can make a list? Of all the stuff you miss and you really want? Can you do that for me? Because I don’t know much about little girls and what they like.”

“I can do that. I like all kinds of stuff. Girl stuff, boy stuff. Momma says I can play with whatever toys I want and that it’s stupid that society puts labels on things like toys and clothes.”

“Your mum’s a very smart lady.”

“Momma always says that I’m the Millie I’m supposed to be. That the things I like and make me happy are part of me. Part of my personality. And no one should take those away from me.”

“No. They shouldn’t.”

“And she says to never let anyone dull my sparkle, right mom?”

“I don’t think anyone ever could, sweet pea. You’ve got way too much sparkle for anyone to take away. And if they tried and I caught them doing it…”

“You’d punch them in the face!”

“Well I might not resort to violence, but…”

“Alessio? That guy momma was gonna marry? He always complained about my sparkle. He didn’t call it THAT, but he always bitched and moaned about my clothes and how loud I am and how much I love to sing and dance. And you know what he did one day? He threw out my shoes! My favourite ones!”

“She’s been wearing those same Spiderman sandals since she was almost three,” Esme tells Tyler. “I always buy a couple pairs at a time; one a bit bigger for when she sizes up.”

“I LOVE these shoes!” Millie enthuses. “They’re comfy and they’re cute and they light up. Alessio didn’t like them. He said they were for boys! But momma told him it didn’t matter. That girls love superheroes too! And I can wear whatever I want! And you know what he did? The big, fat jerk! He waited until momma and I were asleep and he threw my shoes out! I couldn’t find them in the morning and I was really sad! I cried. A lot. They were my favourite. They fit just right.”

Esme reaches for one of the carafes in the middle of the table, pouring herself a second cup of tea. “And what happened next? When momma found out what Alessio did?”

“You went and bought me two new pairs. And told Alessio to never pull that kind of shit ever again!”

Tyler grins. Esme’s never been afraid to speak her mind; never threatened or intimidated no matter how big and bad her opponent is. He’d learned that the hard way; finding himself the target of her ire in Dhaka. When he’d had the nerve to ‘pull rank’ and ‘man-splain’. “Your mumma takes good care of you, huh?”

“ She doesn’t let anyone mess with me. And if they try? She gets really mad. And she doesn’t back down. She’s little, but I bet she could kick some serious ass!”

“Oh, I know she could. I’ve seen it. What she gets like when she’s angry. Or she’s trying to protect the people she loves. She’s a good mumma?”

“Best mumma ever! We do a lot of cool stuff together. We go for manis and pedis, we go to the library to look for books and play in the kids’ section. We go to museums and the movies. And you know what my favourite thing is? When we go to Central Park. We always take a picnic. And we sit by the fountain and go for a walk and go and feed the ducks. That’s the best part. I love the ducks. Do you have ducks in Australia?”

“We do. We even have some rare ones you can’t find anywhere else in the world.”

“Do you think maybe you could take me to see them? If we go to your house? I’d really like to see the ducks. And feed them. Do you think we could?”

“I think we could arrange something, yeah. And we can go to the zoo. Feed some joeys, see some koalas. Maybe hold one. I don’t think your mumma would mind. If we did stuff like that.”

“Can we, mumma? Please? Can we go to the zoo? I want to feed the joeys and hold a koala! Can we go there?”

“I definitely think we could do that.” Esme returns Tyler’s smile from across the table, and then briefly and inconspicuously lays her hand on top of his. Giving it a light, loving squeeze before she runs her nails along the length of his fingers.

She enjoys this quiet, unassuming closeness. An intimacy that’s pure and beautiful and reserved solely for each other. The glances exchanged, their feet touching under the table, their hands in close enough proximity to each other they often come in contact. It’s the honeymoon stage; that blissful, relaxed contentment that comes with getting to know someone and falling head over heels in love. But there’s an extra layer to their story; two people who had found acceptance and solace in one another during the most difficult and stressful of times and somehow survived the unimaginable. Dhaka had created a powerful bond between them; one that not even The High Table had managed to erase. Now they’ve started down a new path; friends and lovers who managed to find their way back to each other. And are now caught up in a whirlwind of rediscovery.

When the waitress departs after refilling drinks and taking orders, Millie and Tyler fall into a companionable silence; both concentrating on their ‘masterpieces’. It’s quite the juxtaposition compared to their surroundings and the original reason for his visit to New York; surrounded by men and women engrossed in the criminal world yet somehow managing to create this comfortable, happy space. This powerful and intimidating man with his scars and tattoos and his demons devoting his full attention to the little girl beside him; Millie occasionally glancing at him with a mixture of fascination and pure, unadulterated affection. A connection established since the moment they’d laid eyes on each other the day before; Tyler shocked and overwhelmed by the news that he was a father again and Millie awed and intrigued by the ‘giant’ that loomed over her. And she’s become incredibly attached to him in such a short period of time; putting all of her faith and trust into him and believing his promise to keep her and momma safe from the bad guys.

In return, he’s indulged every one of her whims since that initial hug only forty minutes ago. One of those enormous, strong hands swallowing her much tinier, fragile one when she reached for him; chattering away as she skipped happily alongside him as they headed for the elevator. Immediately obliging when she asked to be carried on his shoulders; giggling as she was lifted high into the air and then wrapping both arms around his neck and resting her chin on the top of his head. And he didn’t blink an eye when she abandoned her original seat at the booth in favour of climbing up next to him. Joining her in drawing and colouring and patiently answering all of her questions about Australia, allowing her to creep closer and closer to him until she eventually settled upon his thigh.

Millie is currently perched upon her knees with both arms wrapped around one of his biceps; quietly and intently watching the drawing that he works so diligently on. Those big hands with all their scars and calluses and misshapen knuckles and their ability to take a life creating something beautiful and ‘just for her’. It’s a side of him even Esme has never seen before; a loving and devoted father that willingly ignores societal norms in order to make his little one happy.

She had seen the potential inside of him during those five days in Dhaka; the seemingly fearless mercenary lowering his guard and showing her all his broken and aching parts. A grief-stricken and guilt laden man; willingly putting his own life on the line to save others not because of the money involved, but as repentance for the mistakes he’d made. There’d been a gentleness to him that she’d never experienced with another man. The way he’d cradle her face in his palms when he kissed her, that slow, adoring way his eyes would search every inch of her face. the tenderness in his fingertips when he’d smooth hair away from her cheeks and tuck loose strands behind her ears. There were layers to him that he’d never allowed another to explore; instead choosing to hide behind all of his rough and tattered edges and his strong, intimidating physique. But he’d granted her access to even the deepest and darkest of places; spilling secrets and regrets and allowing himself to be vulnerable. He hadn’t been a horrible husband or father by any stretch of the imagination. What he had been was damaged and traumatized; a lifetime of nightmarish circumstances that had made it impossible for him to deal with the reality of his son’s illness and impending death.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she had said, when he’d asked her why she was being so kind. So understanding. Why didn’t she see him as the monster that everyone painted him as? He killed people for a living, after all. He’d abandoned his child when he’d needed his father the most. How could she NOT look at him with pure and utter disgust?

*****

She watches him with that second chance now; nursing a cup of tea as she muses on how alike father and daughter truly are. The exact same colour and texture of hair, the long limbs and impossibly big hands and feet, those brilliant blue eyes that can grow so dark and stormy when frustration or anger settle in. And how, while dedicated to a task, those eyes narrow; intently focused with their lips slightly parted and their brows furrowed.

“You are soooo good!” Millie gushes, as she peers down at the paper. “I want to draw like that! I’m alright at it, but I’m not great or anything.”

“You’re only four. You have lots of time to get better at it.”

“You don’t look like the type that would be an artist.”

“No? What type do I look like?”

“The type that kicks serious, big time ass!”

“Well, I do THAT too. I do lots of things, actually. I have lots of different skills.” A grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he shoots Esme a wink. “Just ask your mum.”

Eyes widening, Esme directs a kick to his shin.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Millie inquires, oblivious to the behaviour of the others at the table. “I don’t understand how you and momma met. How you became friends. If momma was living here and you were living in Australia, how’d you even meet?”

“Tyler and I were both working for Auntie Nik,” Esme explains, flashing the waitress an appreciative smile as she replaces empty carafes with full, fresh ones. “And she needed us to help her find someone.”

“Where’d you have to find them?”

“Somewhere far away. In a place called Bangladesh.”

“Where’s that?”

“Far, far away. On the other side of the world.”

“Was it a boy or girl?”

“A boy.” Tyler reaches for his coffee. “A teenager.”

“What was his name?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“You have to set the scene. I need to know details.”

“His name was Ovi.” Esme begins tidying the table; dropping crayons back into their carrying case; a retro metal Transformers lunch box Millie had spied in a second-hand store and just had to have.

“Why did he need to be found, momma? What happened to him?”

“Some bad people took him. And didn’t want to give him back unless they were paid a lot of money.”

“Why did the bad people take him?”

“Because his dad was a bad person, too. And they wanted to cause trouble with him.”

“But WHY? Just to be mean?”

“It’s a long story. And not one for little ears. They took Ovi because they wanted to hurt his dad. Who was just as bad of a person as they were. And when no one could find where Ovi was, Auntie Nik got called into things.”

“And she asked you and Tyler to help? Why you guys?”

“Because I find people. I go places and ask all kinds of questions and track them down. And then I give guys like Tyler that information and he goes and rescues them. Remember what I told you? About teamwork?”

‘Teamwork is dream work!”

“Exactly. And because these people were so bad, I needed to have someone keep an eye on me. So I wouldn’t get hurt.”

Completely invested and desperate for more information, Millie lifts up Tyler’s arm and slips under it. Climbing into his lap, she places a hand on his cheek and turns his face towards her. “You were momma’s bodyguard then too?”

“I was. And you know what? It was the hardest job I’ve ever had. Because your mum? She is stubborn as hell. She refused to listen to a word I said. I almost told her to find her own way home and left her there.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t listen to you,” Esme argues. “I just thought you thought what you were saying was…how do I put this gently…stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“That and I was in my ‘I won’t let any man tell me what to do’ stage,” she chides, and shoots him a playful wink. “You weren’t getting away with it. And it didn’t matter how hot you were.”

“Were? Past tense? WERE? First, you call me fat and now you’re saying I’m ugly?”

“Momma!” Millie gasps in horror. “You called Tyler fat?! That’s not nice. You’re not supposed to say things like that about people! I mean, I know he’s a little chubby, but…”

“Chubby?” He lightly pinches the four-year-old’s sides. “Whose side are you on anyway? Calling me chubby.”

“I’m on your side! I am! I really am! But…”

Millie squeals when he tickles her and then dissolves into hysterics; eyes closing and her entire body arching against him when his fingers dig lightly into her stomach. Her laughter travelling throughout the restaurant and drawing attention; a handful of disapproving frowns and whispers mixed in with amused eyes and broad smiles. The first child to ever need protection within The Continental’s walls, many of the staff and clientele remember her as an infant; watching that blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked little girl go from a newborn in her mother’s arms to a baby just weeks shy of her first birthday. When the dust had cleared and it was safe to finally leave, they’d moved to Queens; into a quaint and cozy two-bedroom apartment that Nik had furnished and paid the first year's rent on. After that, they’d had no reason to return to The Continental. Extra money earned doing intel work from home while Esme devoted everything she had to raising her daughter and making sure she was loved and provided for.

She’d spent years longing to be a mother, and Mark’s abuse and the eventual disintegration of her marriage had left her incredibly jaded and wary of ever trusting a man again. She had tried to convince herself that perhaps it was just the way things were meant to be; she wasn’t destined to have a child and instead would throw herself into her work and find contentment and fulfilment in the few friendships she managed to maintain. Yet there’d always been an emptiness and a longing she couldn’t quite explain; a need for a different life in a different place, surrounded by different people. And she’d been so close to breaking free. Setting a firm ‘six-month exit strategy’; giving it half a year before moving to Scotland and living with a long-lost cousin until she was able to get on her feet.

And then Nik had called, offering her the Dhaka job.

It had been too good to resist. A massive payday and an assurance from Nik that once it was over, she was officially ‘off the books’. There’d be no paper trail of her ever connected to Nik’s business; staying in touch as ‘friends only’ and perhaps offering the occasional consultation over the phone or through a video chat. She was looking forward to no longer being part of that world; using the money she was paid to travel the globe and create experiences and memories before settling down in Scotland. Perhaps once there she’d ‘find herself’; discover a new profession that would give her the same feeling of accomplishment. It had been illegal and dishonest work, but it HAD come with one major benefit; able to dole out karma and see those who deserved it meet their often bloody and brutal demise.

She never did get to travel.

Instead, her entire life changed the second she walked into the rundown shack in the middle of the Australian outback.

“I gotta chubby tummy too!” Millie announces, as she once more settles herself on Tyler’s lap and then pulls up the bottom of her t-shirt. “I also have an outtie! See!”

Grinning, Esme lifts her mug to her lips. “She’s very proud of her belly button. She had an umbilical hernia when she was a baby and had to have surgery for it. When she was still a wee little thing. That’s her souvenir from it.”

“All my friends are jealous! None of them have outties. I tell them that I’m special. Like a unicorn. ‘Cause I got something different.”

“You are,” Esme agrees, and reaches across the table to sweep Millie’s bangs from her forehead. “You are very, very, VERY special. More than you will ever know.”

She desperately wants to add: “And your daddy and I love you so very much” but manages to hold it back. It’s way too soon; only twenty-four hours since Tyler had discovered Millie’s existence and less than three days since the four-year-old’s entire world had been turned upside down. While full of smiles and giggles and hilarious chatter throughout the day, the trauma comes out to play at night. Plagued by uncharacteristic, aggressive meltdowns before bed and a newfound fear of the dark, reverting back to sucking her thumb as a form of comforting and self-soothing, and suffering from horrible nightmares that tear her from rest and cause her to vomit and wet the bed. She’s been through way too much for such a little thing; hearing and seeing things that not even adults should be subjected to. With no way of telling what another huge event would do to her, it’s best to keep Tyler’s true identity a secret for now. At least until the aftereffects of four nights ago begin to weaken.

It hurts to have to keep lying. For four years she’s kept Millie’s existence a secret out of pure selfishness and stupidity; afraid of rejection and unable to handle the mere thought…never mind the sight… of him being with anyone else. Choosing instead to remain hidden and off the grid; convincing herself that she’d only ruin his life if she was to suddenly resurface with a child in tow. Deep down she was aware of just how wrong she was; even hurt and angry, Tyler would never turn away his daughter. Even if they couldn’t get along, he would still want to be in Millie’s life. He’d want to be present and active and have a say and a helping hand in how she was raised. While Esme had told herself that staying silent was better for everyone involved, the truth was that it was only better for her. A way of protecting her heart.

She knows it stings. Whenever Millie calls him by his first name. She can see that little wince that captures his mouth and the pain that darkens his eyes. He’s already missed so much of her life and not being seen and known as ‘dad’ only adds insult to injury. But she also knows that no matter how pained he may be and how desperate he is for the truth to be known, he’d never do anything to hurt Millie or jeopardize her well-being.

Even if it means putting his on the back burner.

It’s a beautiful thing to witness. That big, strapping man already so attentive and adoring. Protective. All that faith she had and all that potential she saw five years ago now playing out before her eyes. The infinite amount of patience that he possesses; allowing Millie to ask a seemingly endless string of questions involving how he met her mother, what it’s like living in Australia, and if she’ll get eaten by a shark if they go to the beach. Always having the perfect answers for her; ones that light up her eyes and make her giggle and feel completely safe and content in his presence. Not blinking an eye when tiny fingers explore the calluses on his palms and his long busted up knuckles; staying away from any talk about the job and telling tales instead of sports injuries and incidents while rock climbing or hiking or surfing. And not appearing bothered when she inquires about his collection of scars; sparing her the more horrific details and only alluding to mishaps while with the military and while fighting ‘bad guys'.``

“Momma,” Millie leans across the table and lightly taps a hand against Esme’s cheek. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what, sweet pea?”

“Looking like you’re gonna cry. What’s wrong? Why tears? Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad,” Esme promises, then leans forward and rests a hand on the back of the four-year-old’s head. Giving her a reassuring smile before pressing a kiss to her brow. “I’m happy. So very, very, VERY happy.”

****

They find Nik and Abuela waiting outside the suite door when they return; the latter anxiously pacing the thick, plush carpet. And it’s Nik that approaches them; her brow furrowed and lips set in a thin, stern line.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Tyler frowns. “I don’t like hearing that.”

“I don’t like saying it.”

“How big is this problem?”

“I’d say about six one, two hundred pounds. Alessio is here.”

“How the hell did he get in here? I thought this place was secure. I thought one of the rules was that no one could come and cause shit. Conduct business under their roof.”

“He says he’s not here to cause problems. Or do any business. He just wants to talk. With Esme.”

“Tell him to go away,” Millie pipes up from her perch upon Tyler’s shoulders. “Momma is off limits! Tell him that, Auntie Nik. Tell that asshole to f…”

“Amelia…” Esme gently scolds, then turns to Nik. “Talk about what? I think everything that happened last night spoke for itself. His family broke into my house and tried to kill me. And Millie. A little kid. If he thinks I have anything to say…”

“He’s a dickhead!” Millie declares. “Tell him momma has a new boyfriend. Who is really big and strong and will rip his head off and shove it up his…”

“Let me take her,” Abuela suggests, and moves towards Tyler. “We can go and hide in her room and watch a movie or we can make crafts. Maybe go downstairs for a swim. Or we can…”

“No!” The four-year-old protests, wrapping her legs tightly around Tyler’s neck and her arms around his head when the ‘nanny’ reaches for her. “I don’t want to go in there! I don’t want to see him!”

“He’s not going to leave,” Nik addresses Tyler and Esme. “He’s pretty adamant about that. And it’s not like we can force him. If we even put our hands on him, we’ll be leaving this place in body bags. And he knows that. He knows we can’t do a damn thing.”

Tyler sighs. “I mean, one bright spot is neither can he. He goes against the High Table rules and he knows he’s fucked. Not even his family and their connections can save him from them. But wanting to talk to Esme? About what?”

“About what went down the other night I guess. He feels that he’d owed an explanation. That he put eight months into the relationship and everything turned out to be a complete lie. He’s pissed. Hurt. I guess he has a lot to vent about.”

“Tell him to go to a fucking therapist. Esme doesn’t owe him a damn thing. His family tried to KILL HER. No amount of talking is going to change that.”

“What harm is there in hearing him out? If he won’t leave and we can’t make him leave…”

“I don’t wanna go in there,” Millie sobs. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t like him. He’s mean. Don’t make me go in there. Don’t…”

Gently prying her arms apart and untangling her legs from around his neck, Tyler reaches up and carefully lifts the little one off his shoulders. Briefly settling her on his hip before placing her on the ground, then kneeling in front of her and cradling her face in his palms.

“Don’t cry.” He uses his thumbs to clear away the tears that sparkle upon her cheeks. “There’s no reason to cry. Everything is fine. You’re okay.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I know. I know he was mean to your mum. I bet he was mean to you sometimes too, yeah?”

“He threw out my shoes.”

“And that’s bad enough, right? There were other times, too? When he was mean to you?”

Millie nods. “He didn’t like me. He said I was too loud. That I talk too much. And make too much noise. That little kids need to be seen and not heard. He wanted momma to send me to a special school. Where kids stay over instead of coming home. But momma told him to go and ‘get fucked’. She always told him where to go. When he said mean things to me. She doesn’t let anyone hurt me.”

“That’s because she’s an awesome mumma. But he can’t hurt you. Not here. Not with me and Auntie Nik and Abuela here. You’ve got a lot of people that love you. Who will do anything to keep you safe. You trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“I need you to do me a favour. I need you to go inside with Abuela. I want you to do everything she says, okay? You go in your room and you watch a movie or you make some crafts or find something else to keep you busy. Just for a little while.”

“Just for a bit?”

“Just until I finish talking with your mum and Auntie Nik. Then I’ll come and get you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Maybe you can even do me up one of those bracelets. So I can add it to my collection. Maybe even make yourself and mumma some too. We can all match.”

“I’ll do yours in boy colours. So you don’t get teased. But you do promise, right? That you’ll come and get me?”

“As soon as I’m done out there. It won’t be long. I just need a chance to talk some things over.”

“What if he hurts momma?”

“No one is going to hurt your mum. I won’t let that happen. So can you do that for me? Go inside with Abuela? Just for a little bit. And then we’ll go and do something. Just the two of us. Is that alright? If we do something together? Are you okay with that?”

“Just us?”

“Just us. If you’re comfortable with just me. If you’d rather mumma tag along…”

“No. I’m okay with it. Just us. Maybe we can go swimming? They have a pool here. And it’s nice and warm. It’s not as fun as the beach, but…”

“You put your bathing suit on when you’re inside and I’ll take you down to the pool. Maybe we can go and get ice cream after. If my chubby tummy can handle it.”

She finally manages a smile, then sniffles noisily and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Mint chocolate chip?”

“Of course. It’s our favourite. There’s no other kind. So you can do all of that for me? I know how strong you are. How brave. You get that from your mum. She is the strongest person I have EVER known. And you come from her, so…”

“Even stronger than you?”

“MUCH stronger than me. Go inside, okay?” Giving her a reassuring hug, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then reaches for not only the doll and koala bear Esme holds, but the backpack slung over her shoulder. “Take your stuff with you. So you got your beads and what not if you want to make those bracelets.”

Helping Millie shrug into the backpack, he tucks the doll under one arm, the bear under the other, running a hand over the top of her head before Abuela lays a hand on Millie’s shoulder and gently leads her towards the door. Hesitating on the threshold, Millie glances over her shoulder at Tyler. Tears sparkling in her eyes, as her chin trembles and she tries to remain as stoic as possible.

“You promise, Tyler? You promise you’ll come and get me?”

He struggles with his own emotion; a potent cocktail of rage and heartache to know that someone has mistreated her. It’s only been twenty-four years but the love and the pride he feels towards her is all-consuming; this beautiful, healthy little girl that’s a mixture of himself and the love of his life. It’s surreal; the realization that he is indeed a father again. And while it isn’t the time to jump fully into that role, he can give Millie what she so desperately needs at the present; a sense of safety and security and someone she can trust to protect her. At all costs.

“I promise. I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?”

Nodding, she gives a wiggle of her fingertips in a departing wave and then allows Abuela to lead her into the suite.

****

They stand in silence; waiting to hear if anything goes wrong within the hotel room. And it’s Tyler that speaks first; attempting to push away the anger and animosity he feels towards his old friend and colleague. It’s hard to be civil in the face of Nik’s betrayal; the painful truth that she’d kept Esme’s whereabouts and Millie’s existence a secret. But he reminds himself that it isn’t the time for personal quarrels; Alessio’s appearance bringing the job back to the forefront.

“How’d he get in here Nik? You told me this place was safe. That no one could get to them here.”

“Winston let him.”

“Of fucking course he did.”

“But why would he do that?” Esme inquires. “He’s the one that gave us somewhere to hide out. Why would he just let Alessio walk in, never mind get THIS close?”

“I think it’s personal,” Nik replies. “I know there’s no love lost between him and Tyler and…”

Tyler scowls. “He told you?”

“Told her what?” Esme’s eyes narrow in confusion as she glances back and forth between the two. “What did Winston tell her? What’s going on? What…?”

“Winston and I had a little disagreement. “About…?”

“About what we think is best for you. And Millie. We weren’t exactly on the same page.”

“And what DO you guys think is best for us?”

“I told him that I thought bringing both of you to Australia, getting settled, and starting a life there would be in your best interests. He disagreed. Thought it was better that I brought you back here. To New York City. So he could keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me? I don’t need him…of all people…keeping an eye on me. Once I’m out of here I am NOT coming back. Ever. If I never see this place again, it’ll be too soon.”

“He seems to have it in his head that you can’t survive without him,” Nik explains. “That you’re better off here…under his roof…than anywhere else.”

“I hope you told him to go and get fucked. Because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’m grateful for everything he’s done, but this is the last place I want to be. Kept like some prisoner. That’s not much of a life. For either of us. But especially for Millie.”

“I think he has some weird-ass obsession with you,” Tyler adds. “That goes way beyond the father-daughter bullshit that he spews all the time.”

Nik smirks. “You THINK? It’s not obvious?”

“That is just…” Esme’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “....ewwww. I’ve never gotten that kind of vibe from him. He’s always respected my boundaries and never tried anything. I would have kicked him in the nuts if he did. Did he actually admit to all of this? That he’s got some creepy hopeful sugar daddy going on?”

“Not in so many words, but…”

Nik pipes up. “When he offers to double someone’s payout so they’ll bring you back here and walk out of your life, it’s safe to say there’s nothing normal about how he feels about you.”

“Wait…what? He did WHAT?”

Tyler glares at his old friend. “You did NOT need to tell her that.”

“I assumed she knew. That you already would have told her.”

“I didn’t tell her because I didn’t think she needed to know that part. What good does it do? She’s got enough going on. Add Winston and his bullshit to the list…”

“He offered you money?” Esme struggles to digest the information. “ To bring us back to The Continental and leave us here? Is that what went on? Is that why he showed up here? THAT’S what he wanted to talk to you about? He wanted to pay you off?”

Nik sighs, then addresses Tyler. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause issues. I thought she knew. That you would have told her.”

“What did you say to him?” Esme inquiries, as she moves closer to him; suddenly needing the comfort that his much stronger, heavier body can provide her with. He’s always been her protector; ready, willing, and able to do whatever he had to do in order to keep her safe.

“What do you think I said? I told him to take his money and shove it up his ass. There’s no ‘deal’ to be made. You and Millie? You two aren’t up for negotiation. And I let him know that. That I’m getting you two the fuck out of here and I’m not bringing you back. I don’t care how much money he throws at me.”

“This is just…” Esme pushes both hands through her hair. “...I honestly can’t believe he’d do that. I already told him; once we’re out of here, we aren’t coming back. We’re going on with our lives. I told him that we already talked about all of this. That Millie and I were going to make a life in Australia. With YOU. Whether it’s under the same roof or starting out in separate places. I made it very clear that it wasn’t up for debate.”

“He seems to think it is. He’s got it in his head that I’m some piece of shit that would abandon you and Millie. That I’m some enormous fuck up that’s going to ruin your lives.”

“That is the furthest thing from the truth. You’re none of those things. And I told him all of that. I told him that we were going to be a family. Or at least try being one. That we were going to work through our shit. Get past everything that’s happened. Have a good life together. Give Millie a mom AND a dad. I made it pretty clear that it was my life and my decision.”

“He obviously didn’t listen. Because he’s pretty convinced you’re better off here. That this is the only place you can have a good life.”

“He’s full of shit. And if he thinks I’d EVER think of him in THAT way…”

“I know I opened up a huge can of worms and you two have a lot to talk about,” Nik speaks up. “ But I think we need to refocus. Get back to what’s going on right now. Because whether we like it or not, Alessio IS here. He’s got no intention of leaving until he gets what he wants. And seeing as we can’t force him to leave and we can’t toss him out…”

“What choice do I really have? If he’s not going to leave…”

“I don’t want you alone with him,” Tyler says. “I don’t trust him. If he and Winston are that buddy-buddy, you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be allowed to break High Table rules. That Winston wouldn’t look the other way.”

“I’ll stay,” Nik offers. “I’ll hang out in another room and keep my ears open. If I even hear things starting to go south…”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Esme assures them. “Yeah, he’s an asshole in many ways, but putting his hands on women? That’s not his style.”

“His family tried to kill you,” Tyler reminds her. “And Millie. He’s got people just lying in wait outside. They will put a bullet in you the second you step out there.”

“Alessio isn’t like them. He’s nowhere near as committed to that life. And he’s not as loyal to the family as they think he is. He spent the last eight months spilling a lot of their secrets. He wasn’t shy about all the twisted and gory details.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t go to bat for them now. You’ve disgraced his family. Made him look like a complete fool. These people don’t take betrayal lightly.”

“You heard what Nik said, Tyler. He’s not going to leave. And as much as I know you want to just beat the living shit out of him…”

“I can’t just leave you with him. And I already told Millie…”

“I’ll be fine. Nik will be close by. She’s not going to let him do anything. I know you don’t exactly trust her right now, but I DO. She’s kept us safe and sound all these years. She can do it for another half an hour.”

“I know you’re pretty pissed at me right now, Tyler…” Nik begins.

‘That’s an understatement.”

“...but we need to shelve the personal shit. We can deal with all of that later. I know you have a lot to say to me and believe me, I’m going to let you have a chance to say it. But NOT right now. We have much bigger fish to fry. Not to mention less than forty-eight hours to figure out how the hell we’re all getting out of this city in one piece. So we can focus on what we’re really here for? The job?”

Sighing heavily, he briefly closes as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I need to talk to Esme.”

“Tyler, I…”

“Nik, there is a lot going on here. And believe it or not, not all of it involves you. I need to talk to her. ALONE.”

She accepts defeat; holding her hands up in surrender and then heads for the door and disappears inside. Tyler waits. Giving Nik a chance to clear the foyer and head further into the suite before he turns to Esme; watching as she chews on her bottom lip and nervously wrings her hands together.

“What do you want to do?”

“There’s not many options. Alessio won’t leave unless he gets what he wants. And as much as I’d love to see you hand him in his ass…”

“Do you want to try and get out of here? Just grab Millie and leave?”

“You know we won’t get far. They’ve got a small army out there. You against all of them? I’ve always had faith in your skills and the things you’re able to do, but…”

“Even I’m not dumb enough to think I stand a chance against all that firepower. There’s gotta be a way though. Of getting you and Millie out of here. With no one else knowing. There has to be some way they get people around without being noticed.”

“I mean there’s an underground garage and there’s passageways, but Winston monitors those. There’s security EVERYWHERE. There’s no way we’d be able to even get to them without being seen. And if he’s messed up enough to offer you money to leave Millie and me behind, what’s stopping him from letting the enemy know what we’re up to?”

“He wants me out of the picture. He made that clear. Many times.”

“And he can make it happen. He’s got the power of The High Table backing him up. And we’ve already dealt with them once before. Look what they did five years ago. Tyler, these are powerful people. They make Alessio’s family look tame. And if we don’t play ball with them, the DiTomassos are going to be the least of our worries.”

Leaning back against the wall, he runs his hands over his weary, unshaven face. “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I. And I’m starting to regret dragging you into this. There you were, just living a nice, quiet life and…”

“I was living a miserable life. Just like I have been for the last five years.”

“Which was my fault, too. Everything I touch, I totally fuck up. Your life, Millie’s life.”

“You haven’t fucked anything up. I mean, just look at her Esme. Look at how amazing your daughter…OUR daughter…is. She’s beautiful and she’s insanely smart and she loves the world and everyone in it. Her life is far from fucked up. Look at how much she loves you. And trusts you. You did that all on your own. Brought her up this far. And she’s incredible.”

“But I didn’t HAVE to do it alone. I had a choice. Once all the smoke cleared and we didn’t have to hide anymore. I could have made things so much easier on myself. And Millie. But I didn’t do it because I was a stupid, selfish little girl that couldn’t handle the thought of rejection. Or of seeing you with someone else.”

“That was what it was? The real reason? Why you didn’t get a hold of me?”

“I couldn’t handle it. The thought of you being with someone else, let alone SEEING it. And I realize how ridiculous that sounds now. You had every right to go on with your life; to meet someone else and fall in love and get married and have a family. But every time I thought about it, it made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t have you and I didn’t want anyone else to either. How pathetic is that?”

“Wanna hear pathetic? Every time I think of you with that asshole in there, I want to put my fist through a wall. Or throw that fucker out a window.”

“I was so scared. I was worried that if I called you or just showed up on your doorstep, you’d turn us away. That you’d still be so angry that you wouldn’t want anything to do with Millie.”

“That never would have happened. Not in a million years. I wouldn’t have turned her away. Or you.”

“The logical and rational side of me knew I was wrong. That you’d never do something like that. But when does fear make you think logically or rationally?”

“I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you. And if you’d just shown up on my doorstep, I would not have turned you away. Not when I spent so long missing you and wanting you back.”

“And now I’m back and look what’s happened. Look at the mess I dragged you into! This is NOT what I wanted. All those times I thought about just bringing Millie to you and begging you for another chance? None of them included THIS. If I’d just left you alone…”

“Esme…” Offering her a hand, he pulls her into him when she accepts; their fingers entwined and their joined hands resting on the small of her back. Her body resting against his as she stands between his legs; hands settling on his hips as he cradles the back of her head in his palm and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I don’t regret taking this job. And I won’t regret it no matter how messy it gets.”

“You had a normal life. You were doing normal things. And I came along and screwed that all up. Just like I screwed everything up five years ago.”

“Stop saying that. It’s not true. And you know it’s not. We had a good thing. A REALLY good thing. And yeah, it went bad and it sucked and the last five years have been pure and utter shit.”

“Because of me.”

“You didn’t know The High Table was going to come for you. There was no way you could have known that. And you were right; with what you said the other night. I wouldn’t have survived that. Challenging them. No way.”

“I had to protect you. I HAD to. I never would have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

“And I’m starting to understand that. I’m not quite there yet, but I’ll get there. It’s hard. Normally I’m the one who does the protecting. Kinda hard to accept when I’m on the other side of the fence.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You and your ego. And your whole knight in shining armour thing you’ve got going on.”

“I thought it was ‘knight in slightly tarnished armour’?”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.”

“Even how you used to always leave the toilet seat up and your dirty socks in front of the hamper instead of in it? And how you always used to put your cold feet against the back of my legs in bed?”

“I don’t seem to remember any of THOSE things.”

“Typical.” She gives a small laugh. “You had a selective memory then, too.”

Pressing their joined hands against the small of her back, he draws her even tighter against him and kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I don’t regret taking this job. And I’m not going to regret it; no matter how ugly it might get. At the risk of sounding sappy and embarrassing myself, it brought us back together. And it brought me Millie. Which is the most amazing thing that could have ever happened.”

“I never meant to hurt you, Tyler. It was never intentional. It was all me. It was never you. I was just worried and scared and…”

He pecks her lips to silence her. “I know. So what do you want to do?” Releasing her hand from behind her back, he runs both palms across her shoulders and down her arms. “About right now? And this dick head fiance of yours?”

“Like Nik said; he’s not going to go away. It’s better if I just suck it up and talk to him. See what he has to say.”

“I’m sure he’s pretty pissed. Being led on for eight months. You’ll be okay? Being alone with him?”

“He won’t hurt me. He knows better. He knows I’ll fucking drop him.”

Tyler grins. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll be fine. Nik will be close by. I trust her. With my life. With Millie’s life, even. And I know you’ve got a raging hate-on for her right now, but maybe you could shove that aside? Until we’re at least out of New York?”

“I can do that.”

“If you don’t trust Nik, trust me. I know what I’m doing. I know what Alessio is like. He’s not a threat. He’s an asshole, but definitely not a threat.”

“Good. Because I really don’t want to be throwing anyone out the window. Not today, anyway.”

Smiling, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to the tip of his chin. “You’d do that for me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Gentle fingertips explore the bruises and cuts on her face, then loop pieces of hair behind her ears. “ I’d set the world on fire for you.”