#knits work better than woven

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

If I may? A solution I took to for chafing and sweat was the same they used for centuries with corsets and stays - undershirt, then bra, then shirt. The undershirt soaks up all the sweat, and keeps the bra fresh for longer. This is chiefly what I do for work, so I don't come home after eight hours with raw patches and wet bras.

the potential side effects of transfem hrt that everyone yells at as are stupid and sometimes bullshit like yeah yeah we knowwww all the side effects. You know what they don't warn you about that's very real???? Underboob sweat. I fucking loathe underboob sweat. Not saying I regret anything, but holy fuck can we invent boobs that don't sweat.

[aeide-thea]

me, full of ongoing scrupulosity abt microplastics and also a vague sense that it would be good for me to take another crack at incorporating running into my life for 'holy shit i desperately need endorphins' reasons, scouring the shorts market for anything natural-fiber but also functionally/aesthetically fit for purpose and coming up almost* entirely blank: what if i bought another one of the merino-tencel tanks whose fabric i'm in love with (or‚ you know‚ sourced similar fabric somewhere that wasn't already a different garment‚ but like‚ that would involve learning things about 'where to get specialty fabric' in addition to the 'how to sew it' part) and turned it into running shorts? surely it couldn't be that hard??

⸻ * in fairness, icebreaker does make some that tbh are probably ideal except for cost but like. do i want to go running in basketball shorts? not really. and the tiny (women's) version only comes in black which is so dreary. i keep hoping they'll come out with some other colors but so far no dice! also an extremely crunchy-granola company makes some weird little gym shorts in a hemp knit which. i'm sorry, i grew up in manhattan and i'm dubious! they might be great but! 🧐

[handweavers]

something that comes up for me over and over is a deep frustration with academics who write about and study craft but have little hands-on experience with working with that craft, because it leads to them making mistakes in their analysis and even labelling of objects and techniques incorrectly. i see this from something as simple as textiles on display in museums being labelled with techniques that are very obviously wrong (claiming something is knit when it's clearly crochet, woven when that technique could only be done as embroidery applied to cloth off-loom) to articles and books written about the history of various aspects of textiles making considerable errors when trying to describe basic aspects of textile craft-knowledge (ex. a book i read recently that tried to say that dyeing cotton is far easier than dyeing wool because cotton takes colour more easily than wool, and used that as part of an argument as to why cotton became so prominent in the industrial revolution, which is so blatantly incorrect to any dyer that it seriously harms the argument being made even if the overall point is ultimately correct)

the thing is that craft is a language, an embodied knowledge that crosses the boundaries of spoken communication into a physical understanding. craft has theory, but it is not theoretical: there is a necessary physicality to our work, to our knowledge, that cannot be substituted. two artisans who share a craft share a language, even if that language is not verbal. when you understand how a material functions and behaves without deliberate thought, when the material knowledge becomes instinct, when your hands know these things just as well if not better than your conscious mind does, new avenues of communication are opened. an embodied knowledge of a craft is its own language that is able to be communicated across time, and one easily misunderstood by those without that fluency. an academic whose knowledge is entirely theoretical may look at a piece of metalwork from the 3rd century and struggle to understand the function or intent of it, but if you were to show the same piece to a living blacksmith they would likely be able to tell you with startling accuracy what their ancient colleague was trying to do.

a more elaborate example: when i was in residence at a dye studio on bali, the dyer who mentored me showed me a bowl of shimmering grey mud, and explained in bahasa that they harvest the mud several feet under the roots of certain species of mangroves. once the mud is cleaned and strained, it's mixed with bran water and left to ferment for weeks to months.  he noted that the mud cannot be used until the fermentation process has left a glittering sheen to its surface. when layered over a fermented dye containing the flowers from a tree, the cloth turns grey, and repeated dippings in the flower-liquid and mud vats deepen this colour until it's a warm black. 

he didn't explain why this works, and he did not have to. his methods are different from mine, but the same chemical processes are occurring. tannins always turn grey when they interact with iron and they don't react to other additives the same way, so tannins (polyphenols) and iron must be fundamental parts of this process. many types of earthen clay contain a type of bacteria that creates biogenic iron as a byproduct, and mixing bran water with this mud would give the bacteria sugars to feast upon, multiplying, and producing more of this biogenic iron. when the iron content is high enough that the mud shimmers, applying this fermented mixture to cloth soaked in tannins would cause the iron to react with the tannin and finally, miraculously: a deep, living grey-black cloth.

in my dye studio i have dissolved iron sulphide ii in boiling water and submerged cloth soaked in tannin extract in this iron water, and watched it emerge, chemically altered, now deep and living grey-black just like the cloth my mentor on bali dyed. when i watched him dip cloth in this brown bath of fermented flower-water, and then into the shimmering mud and witness the cloth emerge this same shade of grey, i understand exactly what he was doing and why. embodied craft knowledge is its own language, and if you're going to dedicate your life to writing about a craft it would be of great benefit to actually "speak" that language, or you're likely to make serious errors.

the arrogance is not that different from a historian or anthropologist who tries to study a culture or people without understanding their written or spoken tongue, and then makes mistakes in their analysis because they are fundamentally disconnected from the way the people they are talking about communicate. the voyeuristic academic desire to observe and analyse the world at a distance, without participating in it. how often academics will write about social movements, political theory and philosophy and never actually get involved in any of these movements while they're happening. my issue with the way they interact with craft is less serious than the others i mentioned, but one that constantly bothers me when coming into contact with the divide between "those who make a living writing about a subject" and "those who make a living doing that subject"

[daddykinkkinard]

! crossposting from my twitter !

bucktommy costume analysis 👔

hi ! i'm a fashion student and am really interested in costume design so i wanted to do a (long) post on tommy's style and how i think buck might be influenced by it in s8 as seen in "buck's britches." :))

[about tommy]

tommy's wardrobe is entirely functional and indicative of his dedication to his work. it's practical, useful, and speaks of his can-do attitude.

all his signature clothes (henleys, shackets, canvas jackets) have historical traces to being used as workwear.

(1) henleys - this one, ironically in the philippines it has its own term in our local language. it's called a camisa de chino and is used by laborers. although i live in a different country, i'm sure its use case is still the same for other countries as it's historically deemed the workman's undergarment.

also: yes. tommy is technically right. there were henleys in the 80s. even in the 1880s. so what we're learning here now folks, is that he's a smartass little shit.

(2) shackets - historically, also an item used by the working class. they were mostly worn to prevent any possible stains on inner clothes from their work (i.e. dirt, grease, grime, etc.)

(3) canvas jacket - although this was only seen in 7x04, it's more likely that he still owns a lot more. (waxed) canvas jackets are traditional workwear often used as weatherproof outerwear or heavy duty rainwear.

as a form of fun speculation, i'd like to think some of these items are also in his closet:

contrast collar canvas jacket

an authentic flight jacket

overalls, but only for when he fixes up the car

denim trucker jacket

if anything, who better to listen to when talking about tommy's clothes than tommy himself !

here's lou's cameo for me describing tommy's closet as rugged, practical and useful :))

[about "buck's britches"]

now to the "buck's britches" post. two notable items of clothing:

the famous flight jacket

baker pants.

now here's the thing about buck:

buck doesn't wear utilitarian clothing. in fact, he doesn't wear woven clothing all that much. he wears knit. knit polos. sweaters. hoodies. he is not a workwear person. in fact: he's a comfort person.

that's his primary reason for style that's a testament to his own character. buck is widely recognized as the more radiant and funny character. he has charisma and is very inviting, which is accompanied by his choice in clothing.

soft, warm, comfortable.

which goes back to the photo ostark posted on his instagram story.

(1) flight jacket - here's where i have to go and burst everyone's bubble for a bit. this is only a flight jacket because it's labelled as such. but categorically, it isn't. flight jackets are the classic term for bomber jackets.

bomber jackets (and flight jackets) were workwear used by the military, characterized by garterized cuffs and hems and short bodices. for pilots, they were interchangeable. but modernly, they have some more definable features.

characteristically, flight (or aviator) jackets are leather with shearling or sherpa collars. bomber jackets are the modernized version taking the silhouette and cuff designs and making them more accessible through material choice (linen—like buck—nylon, silk)

(2) baker pants - as the name suggests, it's a piece of kitchen workwear often in twill (which i'd assume is what oliver is wearing), denim, cotton or linen. it's characterized by the topstitching to outline the pockets and diagonal pocket openings (vs. the usual curve).

so very evidently: buck has been influenced by tommy's style. he's wearing woven material versus knit for one. if i were hopeful, i'd say they're exploring one another's style because they're sharing a closet.

[character analysis]

woven fabric as a material is sturdy. it's more structured and does not stretch. think: cotton, linen, rayon, wool, denim. what this means for buck is that, by virtue of being tommy's boyfriend he is introduced to structure, groundedness and maturity.

tommy's closet is filled with utilitarian clothing and workwear. he, as a character, is known to be emotionally grounded and mature and it translates to his clothing.

buck adapting the defining features of his wardrobe shows how much tommy has helped him get off his hamster wheel.

in fact, even the inverse can be noted. when buck asks for a second chance and practices communication towards tommy. he's wearing a woven buttondown. and in emphasizing tommy's desire to make buck comfortable, he's in a hoodie. neither of which are common for one another.

buck and tommy, even through subtle clothing choices are becoming part of one another's world and that makes me so soft as someone whose love language is fashion.

[wishful thinking]

perhaps maybe we could see tommy in a fully casual sweat set? i know that they might be protecting lfjr but man. if i see a hoodie on him. (nqueso, if you can sneak me a photo of him in knitwear ill love you forever i just want to prove my theory right i wont even post it)

if they are putting buck in this sort of attire, my guess (or hope) is that they have tommy ease up too.

it would be nice to show buck's effect on tommy as much as tommy's effect on buck because tommy's an established character and has a backstory that the writers could explore.

so if the 9-1-1 costume designers ever see this:

please put tommy in a sweat set. or a hoodie. (not a zip-up one, im talking real hoodie). i'm willing to compromise with overalls. i see what you're doing with buck's wardrobe, and love it. maybe tommy's could soften up too :))

thanks for reading ! 🫶

[cool-fancier]

Starlit Serenity

Synopsis: Laughter, love, stars, and an accidental nap—your shared moments forged bonds you’ll forever treasure.

Word count: 1.7K

The story of you and Bada was an adventure filled with serendipity and joy, unfolding on the bustling streets of Seoul. It all started with a strange interview you were doing with several dance teams in order to capture the dynamic essence of the city's underground dance scene. Bada's group, called "Bebe," captivated you not only with their excellent dancing but also with their contagious spirit.

After a thrilling performance, you found yourself absorbed in conversation with the crew members one fateful evening. Among them was Bada, whose eyes sparkled with a blend of passion and humor. Her vibrant personality drew you in, and the casual interview transformed into a lively exchange of stories and laughter.

As the night proceeded, Bada told stories of her misadventures and spontaneous excursions, captivating you with her passion for life. The more you learned about her, the more you realized that beneath her confident exterior was a soul that resonated with your own quirks and unique characteristics.

Days turned into weeks, and chance encounters morphed into planned meetings. Soon, you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of Bada's infectious laughter and the magnetic pull of her presence. Your common sense of humour became the foundation of your bond, turning everyday moments into remarkable ones.

After a particularly difficult interview, Bada suggested an unexpected stroll through Seoul's packed street markets. Bada pulled you into a spontaneous dance, converting the crowded street into your own private stage, as you walked the bustling passageways, eating street cuisine and revelling in the bright mayhem.

The bond grew stronger as you discovered common interests and complimentary eccentricities. Bada's enthusiasm for life properly balanced your more reserved personality. Friends were envious of your and her chemistry, and it was evident that something remarkable was in the works.

The turning point came during a little getaway Bada took you one weekend. The beautiful golden beach that meets the endless blue sea under a sky that shifts from dawn's soft colors to the brilliance of sunset provide the backdrop for a succession of wonderful moments. A mixture of apprehension and excitement permeated the air as you and Bada sat on a large boulder viewing the gorgeous scenery on a starlit night.

"I have something to confess," Bada said, a sly grin on her face. "I've been wanting to do this for a while."

Bada leaned in, grasping your lips in a lovely and unexpected kiss, before you could register her words. As the warmth of the moment wrapped you both, the world appeared to pause. The kiss was a beautiful balance of warmth and humour, leaving you surprised and delighted.

As you pulled away, Bada couldn't help but burst into laughter. "I've been planning that for days, and it was even better than I imagined!"

The two of you laughed together, the shared moment deepening the connection between you.

From that point on, your relationship with Bada took on a new and exciting dimension. The kiss became a cherished memory, a moment that added a delightful chapter to your love story.

And so, the laughter-filled journey of you and Bada continued, painted with the hues of shared adventures, spontaneous kisses, and the enduring camaraderie of your extraordinary friends. Each day brought a new opportunity for humor and affection, making your story a delightful tapestry woven with threads of love and joy.

— — — — — — —

The eagerness among your group of friends had been evident for weeks as the expectation grew. You, Bada, Lusher, Tatter, Kyma, Minah, Che Che, and Sowoen were all packed and set for a weekend vacation in a gorgeous mountain cabin. The aim was to get away from the craziness of the city and bathe in the serenity of nature's embrace.

Your close-knit group of friends found themselves in the midst of a mesmerising evening under the blanket of a starlit sky, snuggled in the quietness of an isolated cabin. The environment was filled with laughter, anecdotes, and the warmth of long-lasting friendships.

With her vivacious energy, Bada pitched a game of "Never Have I Ever," an unofficial game of divulging secrets and amusing dares. The air buzzed with excitement among the flickering firelight.

"Never have I ever gotten lost in a foreign country," Minah said with a smirk.

Kyma laughed. "All right, guilty as charged." Remember that chaotic trip to Tokyo?"

Laughter erupted as the group recounted tales of their travel mishaps, adventures, and comical escapades. Bada came in closer, her hand immediately finding yours, fingers intertwining in an unsaid language of love.

The game continued, the questions ranging from hilarious to heartfelt. Tatter, with a sly grin, steered the conversation to more risky questions. "Never have I ever tripped going up the stairs!"

All eyes were drawn to Bada and you, evoking a chorus of taunting remarks. Bada's cheeks flushed rosy as she struggled to hold back a giggle, casting a teasing glance at Tatter.

"It was not planned!" Bada objected, eliciting a burst of applause from the audience.

"Sure, sure, we believe you," Che Che joked, winking at you both.

The fire gradually faded as the night progressed, putting a lovely glow on the faces of the companions sharing anecdotes and dreams. The glittering lights overhead seemed to reflect the glimmer in everyone’s eyes.

The warmth of the evening air surrounded the group, encouraging a decision to spread out beneath the star-studded sky, discussing hopes and wishes. The tranquil beauty of the moment was only broken by an owl's screech or the rustling of leaves in the soft air.

Bada, cuddled against your shoulder, shifted her attention to the stars above, her eyes reflecting the starlight. As you wrapped your arm around her, feeling the softness of her laughter vibrate against your chest, the night had an amazing silence.

"You know," she muttered, her voice a musical whisper in the midst of the peace, "this is perfect." Just being here with you, with everyone... it feels like home."

As you observed her in the dark embrace of the night, your heart overflowed with love. "It's moments like these that make everything feel right," you admitted, your words swept away by the night breeze.

The group, now engulfed in a comfortable silence, marveled at the beauty of the starry canvas above. Moments flew by like glittering stars, each one carving themselves into the tapestry of treasured recollections.

Lusher, always armed with her camera, stealthily captured the serene scene, ensuring that this night, infused with warmth and intimacy, would be preserved in the annals of time.

The group chose to go indoors as the night progressed and tiredness began to claim its victims. But Bada, clinging to the wonder of the evening, stated her desire to witness shooting stars.

"I've never seen one," she said, her eyes twinkling with childish awe.

Che Che, the eternal optimist, grinned mischievously. "Then tonight's the night! We'll make sure you do!"

The group waited, wrapped in blankets, scouring the heavens for the rare shooting star. The mesmerising grandeur of the night sky, on the other hand, appeared focused on tormenting them, concealing its angelic delights beneath veils of clouds.

Amidst the anticipation, the fatigue eventually caught up with Bada. Her eyelids drooped, and with a contented sigh, she leaned against you, seeking solace in the comfort of your presence. Unbeknownst to her, sleep claimed her in that tender moment, her hand still entwined with yours.

When the group noticed the charming sight, they exchanged knowing glances and whispered nods, realising the significance of this touching moment. Lusher again took advantage of the situation by taking a series of candid photos, each frame capturing the peaceful innocence of Bada, asleep in your embrace.

Morning came with a calm light streaming through the windows, providing a warm glow throughout the cabin. Lusher couldn't suppress her joy when everyone gathered for breakfast.

"Time for the big reveal!" she said, projecting the previous night's filmed moments onto the cabin wall.

As the photographs were revealed, there were gasps and chuckles across the room. Bada is sound asleep, her hand intertwined with yours. The cabin became a safe haven of affectionate ribbing as a result of the playful banter and taunting remarks.

As the laughter subsided, Bada, awakening to the joyful chaos, met your gaze with a soft smile, her eyes shimmering with affection and gratitude.

"We'll have to add these to our future wedding album," Minah teased, evoking a chorus of cheers and laughter from the girls.

The day progressed with shared meals, fun games, and echoes of meaningful events weaved throughout every conversation. The cabin, which had formerly served as a backdrop for a weekend escape, now housed a treasure trove of memories that would live on in their hearts forever.

— — — — — — —

There were calmer but equally wonderful times among the fun chats and shared laughter. You and Bada found yourselves stealing looks and sharing concealed smiles that spoke volumes in the language of unspoken affection while the group engaged in board games and heated conversations.

During the break in the group's conversation, Bada's laughter, melodious and contagious, filled the air. She caught your attention and offered a hand, inviting you to join her in a dance. You accepted her invitation with a lighthearted grin, and the two of you danced to an imaginary song, your steps led by the common rhythm of your hearts.

Bada found herself leaning into you as the night went, seeking solace in your warm embrace. The steady rhythm of your heart lulled her head into your chest. You softly moved a strand of hair away from her face in that tender moment, enjoying in the closeness and unsaid connection that joined you.

Bada lifted her gaze to meet yours with a quiet chuckle. "I could get used to this," she admitted, her eyes twinkling with mischief and adoration.

"Me, too," you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "This feels like home."

Morning arrived, casting a gentle light that bathed the cabin in a serene glow. As the group gathered for breakfast, the slideshow of captured moments revealed the tender scenes of Bada, finding solace in your embrace. The room was filled with amused chuckles and affectionate teasing, yet amidst it all, there was an undeniable sense of warmth and love.

Throughout the day, amidst shared meals and playful banter, you and Bada found yourselves stealing moments – a fleeting touch, a shared glance, each an unspoken testament to the bond that blossomed between you. These intimate gestures, hidden amidst the laughter and camaraderie, spoke volumes of the growing affection between you and Bada.

[theenbyroiderer]

People seemed to appreciate the tutorial I posted so here is another one. Here is how you can stitch a 3D sea urchin (without the spines). This one is a bit more advanced and needs some descrioption to accompany the images.

Technique: The technique is called woven picot. If needed you should be able to find better stitch instructions on youtube.

Threads and yarns: I've preferred using a twisted thread for the woven picot. In the tutorial I'm using sashiko thread, and that worked ok but wasn't ideal. I would recommend cotton perle or mercerised cotton crochet yarn for this technique. The top example is mercer cotton. The tighter the thread is twisted the better I'd say. I do NOT recommend using six-stranded floss.

Variegated thread is fun for this project. If the randomeness of it bothers you then you can cut out lighter and darker sections of your variegated thread and then do every other wedge of woven picot darker and every other lighter, as I've done in the top example.

The yarn in the middle is some really chunky wool knitting yarn, which is a bit of a struggle to work with. You could also just ball some yarn up, pack in there and fasten it with some stitches with a thinner thread. It's not going to be visible anyway, so you can improvize.

Needle: A blunt needle is better for this technique too, but I only had sharp ones at the time I made this tutorial. Don't be like me.

Process: I'd say the pictures are pretty self explanatory, but here is a brief rundown. Draw a circle on the fabric, in the size you want your sea urchin to be. Split this circle in to five equal sections. A sea urchin typically has a patter that is made up of five broader wedges interspersed by five narrower wedges, so that's what we want to achieve. So when you have your five sections, try to sketch out five broad and five narroow sections using the lines you've already drawn as a guideline.

Make the wedges as pictured above. Each wedge needs to be of equal length and a bit longer than the radius of the circle.

Fill the middle with som padding, as described above. I've made five puffs of padding, one for each broader wedge. Which leaves little valleys for the narrow wedges to rest in, and creates a shape typical of some sea urchins. The woven wedges are then simply joined together as neatly as possible with a thin thread of similar color (I just split the sashiko thread down to half the thickness and used that).

Lastly I finished the edge of the hole in the middle with some button hole type stitches maybe? I'm shit at stitch names... Beading is optional, I just thought it looked neat.

[ahollowgrave]

-- Odette Hollows [B A S I C S]

B A S I C S

Name: Odette Hollows Nicknames: None commonly used. Yein calls her their ‘Moonlit Friend’ and Marlow refers to her by title; Sister. I don’t know if any of these are ‘nicknames.’ Age: Early Twenties Nameday: 9th Sun of the Fifth Umbral Moon Race: Mostly Hyur; technically Ashkin. Gender: CIS Female Orientation: Demi Lesbian Profession: Nun Errant, Psychopomp, Shepherd

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T S

Hair: Strands of spun moonlight are cropped just past her jawline; styled with a few braids with occasional charms or ribbons woven throughout. Likely her most recognizable feature. In dark enough settings, it can shed low light.   Eyes: Like frozen pools; her right eye is a sharp blue, and her left is a clear lavender.  Skin: Ghostly pale, dotted with occasional beauty marks.  Tattoos/scars: Graced with stretch marks but beyond that no notable scars. 

F A M I L Y

Parents: Unknown to her, deceased. Perfectly nice people who, through no fault of their own, died. Siblings: N/A Grandparents: Unknown to her, deceased. Also perfectly nice people.  In-laws and Other: A great-many-times-over Aunt named Odile. A not-so-nice person.  Pets: Rou, a large Karakul who often travels with Odette. Three ewes: Pomme, Poire, and Peche.

S K I L L S

Abilities: - Odette is a beacon to lost souls, ghosts, and spirits. They flock to her and under the umbrella of her influence their forms are altered into that of moths. They cling to her, calling for aid which she lends as best she can. Odette is a psychopomp, she guides the dead without judgment. She can see, hear, and otherwise interact with these lost and stuck souls. She has a custom job fusion of WHM (Conjury)/PLD.

- A strong defensive fighter, Odette prefers her shield and conjurer’s cane to the sword that hangs at her side. She wields her shield well, trusting in it fully to keep herself and her loved ones safe. When she plants her cane, the river rises. 

- Kulning is an ancient form of herding calls used over long distances. Odette learned the skill in her youth and uses it still, calling in her small flock of Karakul at her home. Is this important enough to put here? Probably not, it’s just an additional fun fact! For you!

Hobbies: Reading, gardening, knitting (badly), and exploration. She also plays piano and harp.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: The warmth of her personality, her willingness to meet and love people as they are and as they change. Her curiosity about the people around her.  Most Negative Trait: Her inability to trust herself, her eagerness to trust others above herself. People don’t care for the stealing, either.

L I K E S

Colors: Blues, Purples, Silver, and a pop of red.  Smells: Rich, damp soil; Cedar; sun-ripened peaches; sweet, warm vanilla. Textures: The warmth of hand-spun wool, wood worn smooth with use, the delicate touch of petals against skin. Drinks: Hot chocolate with marshmallows and butterscotch, lemonade infused with different fruits and flowers. 

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not cigarettes. Drinks: No.  Drugs: Yes, pretty heavily. She cannot sleep so she takes drugs to sort of  ‘float’ in a resting state. It doesn’t work but it is better than nothing.  Mount Issuance: Odette is not insured to ride anything. She walks most places, or takes ferries and airships where she can. She owns a Chocobo, named Beauty, who was gifted to her by her friend None. Most of the time if she is riding, she rides Rou, her most loyal Karakul.  Been Arrested: No, but she should have been.

][ Tagged by: ][ @myreia @sealrock @thefreelanceangel @cindernet-explorer @paintedscales @hazelkjt ][ AHH! Thank you all SO much, I appreciate it! ] ][ Tagging: ][ @snotsloth @but-first--tea @the-sycophant @eorzeanflowers @abyssalmermaiden @tallbluelady @viiioca @the-white-snake @claire-ashe & You! ]

[srovtl]

(Warmth that Flows Through His Hands) Figaro SSR Card Story Translation

The feelings we put into the weave - Episode 1

That day, we were all investigating a mansion where something strange might have happened due to the calamity.

Akira: It's really impressive... There are all kinds of stuff on the shelves and walls. Are all of these good luck charms?

Figaro: It seems like the owner of this place was a person who really believed in good luck. Well, leaving aside their effectiveness, I think most of the things here are good luck charms.

Figaro: Now then, looks like there's nothing suspicious in this room, so let's go to the next room.

Akira: Yes.

Figaro and I moved to the next room, where we found Bradley inspecting the items on the shelves.

Akira: Bradley. Did you find anything suspicious?

Bradley: Don't know if it's suspicious or not, but this room has some pretty expensive stuff in it.

Bradley: Look, this thing is made from pretty high quality thread.

Figaro: Huh? That's…

With a grin on his face, Bradley showed me what appeared to be a hand-knitted coaster.

It was a beautiful item, carefully woven with complex patterns and made with a variety of expensive-looking threads, like silk.

Akira: ...Um, Bradley. Just to confirm, what are you planning to do with it?

Bradley: Come on, Sage. That's a rude question.

Bradley: You do know what a thief's job is, right?

Akira: (W-Well yeah I do but...!)

Figaro: You know, That might be my good luck charm.

Bradley: What?

Akira: Figaro's… Does that mean it's something Figaro had before?

Figaro: No, I granted it to a human.

Akira: That's amazing…!

Bradley: eww

Figaro: To be precise, it's something that I taught to people who came to seek wisdom to pray for the safety of their families who went to work away from home. I told them that it would be good to make a good luck charm like this.

Figaro: It seems to be made in a very similar way, so I think that's probably it.

Bradley: This is the worst… It's not a good luck charm, it's a cursed item.

With a dejected look on his face, Bradley threw the good luck charm at Figaro.

Figaro: Oh, you don't want it?

Figaro: It's made from such fine thread though.

Bradley: Do you think I want it after hearing what you just said?

Figaro coolly brushes off the words and gently picks up the amulet. Now that it's in his hands, the pattern looks clearer than before.

Akira: (Amazing... Looking closer, it's more intricately woven than I thought it would be.)

Figaro: Well, I'll admit, this one suits you better than this one.

As he says this, Figaro points to a hanging ornament with a light blue base and white marbled stones set into it.

The feelings we put into the weave - Episode 2

Bradley: The stone this one has... is a weather vane stone.

Bradley: Then, it's a charm for luck in games. It certainly suits me.

Figaro: Right?

Akira: You knew what kind of charm it was just by looking at the stone?

Bradley: Well, the stone itself has a meaning.

Figaro: It's said that if you wear a weather vane stone, you'll be stronger in crucial games.

Akira: (I wonder if it's something like power stones in my world? Different stones have different meanings...)

Akira: I see... I learned something. You two are very knowledgeable.

Bradley: Well, I didn't see so many treasures just to have nothing to show for it.

Bradley: If you're interested, I'll explain it to you in a way that's easier to understand than asking this guy.

Bradley seemed a little pleased, so I decided to be honest and ask him.

Akira: So, I was wondering, what kind of charm is this wooden ornament?

Bradley: I've never seen this before.

Bradley: The carving and painting are sloppy, and it looks like it's going to be expensive...

The moment Bradley picked up the wooden ornament, dust flew around him.

Everyone: Oh.

Bradley: …………A, ah, achooo!

Akira: Bradley!

Akira: W-What should we do? It's the injury from the calamity. What If he got sent to some weird place….

Arthur: Whoa, Bradley!? I was surprised when you suddenly appeared!

Figaro, Akira: .........

Figaro: Haha. It looks like he was just sent to another room in this mansion.

Akira: It seems so.... Ah, thank goodness.

Akira: But what was that wooden ornament supposed to be for? Bradley took it away...

Figaro: Oh, that? It's a lucky charm for household safety, you often see it in southern countries.

Figaro: It's for the health of the family, of course, but also to keep thieves from breaking into the house.

Akira: ...Oh, boss…

Figaro laughed and put the knitted charm back on the shelf. Then he muttered with deep emotion.

Figaro: But that woodcarving was surprisingly effective. It was trying to drive the leader of the Death Thieves out of here.

Figaro: I thought it was just some sort of placebo like this one.

Akira: What? Placebo...?

Figaro: See, that hanging charm from earlier had a "weather vane stone" that was supposed to increase luck in games, right?

Figaro: But there's no evidence that this charm contains any luck effect nor does it have any ancient legend behind it.

The feelings we put into the weave - Episode 3

Figaro's long fingers gently stroke the intricately woven pattern of the amulet as he puts it back on the shelf.

Figaro: What I taught them was that it doesn't matter what kind of thread you use, but make it with your own hands, carefully, over time, and with love.

Figaro: That way, the person setting off on a journey will feel the hearts of their family waiting for them at home, and will unconsciously be careful to ensure their safe return for their sake...

Figaro: And for those who are leaving, the act of making a hand-made amulet itself will be more comforting than just praying without doing anything. That's what I thought.

I think I understand the meaning behind the complex, not so easy to weave pattern.

The person who knits it can see the feelings they put into the finished product...

The person who receives it will remember every time they see it that someone knitted something just for them.

Akira: (Although Figaro said it was just a placebo...)

Akira: I think it's a charm that really resonates with you. I always thought of charms as things that change your environment, relationships, or the things around you...

Akira: But maybe they can also give you peace of mind, hope, or have a wonderful effect on people's hearts in that way.

Figaro: That's a nice thing to say. If that's how the sage thinks, then my charm had a purpose other than just a placebo effect.

Figaro: Anyway, originally, it was meant to be something that anyone who wanted it could make...

Figaro: As it was passed down, I guess people started to pay more attention to the ingredients.

Seeing the expensive-looking finished product, Figaro gave a bitter smile.

Akira: Maybe someone thought that using better ingredients would definitely make it more effective.

Figaro: Well, that's true. it's not like I can't understand that feeling.

Figaro: I mean, if I was going to give it to the Sage, I'd be excited and gather the best materials too.

Figaro said with a joking tone and a wink. It was the look he often made when he praised me and teased me.

But when I imagined that "what if" scenario, my heart warmed.

Akira: ...No matter what materials Figaro used, if he took the time and effort to make a lucky charm like that, I'd be happy about that.

Figaro: Hahaha... I can't compete with the sage's straightforwardness. I wanted to make you feel excited, but I ended up being the one who got excited.

Figaro: I'm not joking, if the time comes I'll put my heart into each and every strand.

Figaro's eyes closed softly. He had that gentle gaze as if he was holding the memory of that someday in his heart.

Figaro: No matter where you go, I hope you can return to the magic house...

Figaro: And when you've completed your role, I hope you can return safely to your world.

Card Episode - What can stained glass ward off?

Akira: The mansion I visited the other day had a lot of lucky charms, but is there any charm that you've come across that has left a particular impression on you?

Figaro: Hmm... I guess the charm that wards off the northern wizards is one that left an impression on me.

Akira: Oh, so there's something like that!

Figaro: Do you know that Lord Snow and Lord White give stained glass that they make to the people they protect?

Akira: Yes. I've seen it stuck in a window in the ice town.

Akira: If I remember right,  in the north, if there's a work by the two of them in a window, other wizards don't do anything bad to it because they assume it's Snow and White's territory.

Figaro: That's right. But someone saw it and misunderstood, and made a stained glass charm for themselves.

Akira: So... he assumed stained glass itself is something that northern wizards don't like? So the charm doesn't have any particular effect...

Figaro: It doesn't have much, does it? Because it's just stained glass made by humans, and not even based on the two's work.

Figaro: There's no magic in it, and if you know the characteristics of their works, you definitely won't be fooled.

Akira: I see... Then Figaro can see through it right away.

Figaro: Haha, that's right. Well, I don't need to be able to tell if the charm that wards off the northern wizards is real or not.

Figaro: Because I'm a good and kind southern wizard.

homescreen voice line

Even if you want to help someone, not many people are able to take action. I mean, basically, everyone values and cherishes themselves more than others. That's a natural way of thinking for those who don't have much power to survive. So I think the Sage is a bit strange. Of course, I mean that in a good way.

[insanelyadd]

The Collector's Hat Sewing Pattern and Tutorial

Image of the pattern I made with measurements:

As a little heads up to people with big/small heads and/or more voluminous hair, this was based on measuring my own head which has a circumference of 22 inches which is dead on the average and my hair is completely straight and relatively flat. You may need to do some adjustments of these measurements because the final fit is very fitted, in that it can be easily put on and taken off but does not fall off on it's own under typical circumstances.*

This pattern is meant for knit or other stretch fabrics, I did not make a completed version with woven or stiffer fabrics, so quality may vary depending on the material you select. I recommend knits.

If you are new to sewing or this is one of your first projects you are doing without a physical pattern, I recommend following the given measurements and drawing it out on some type of paper first and then using that as reference for yourself. I am an outlier when it comes to not making patterns and drawing the shape of what I want out onto the fabric directly, and you shouldn't follow my horrible example. This hat is actually the first time I've even made a muslin prototype.

When you are going to cut out the pieces you need to make sure, like double and triple check, that if you were to lay them pattern/top side up, that they would mirror each other like in the above picture. If you don't then you'll have two lefts or two rights.

The first actual step for sewing is taking the straight lines from the V shaped notch in the top of the hat, and lining them up by folding the piece in half so the patterned/top of the fabric is on the inside of the fold, like in the picture above. You do this on one half at a time. When they are lined up sew them with a straight line stitch a 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) in from the cut, starting at the fold towards the top of the hat.

After that you want to lay them pattern to pattern, and pin them into place to make sure it's aligned properly on both sides. To reduce bulk I recommend making the excess fabric from the darts (the V cut-out) point in opposite directions, as shown in the above picture.

After you've sewn the sides together there is an optional step that I did to make sure the seam lies flat on the top of your head. I opted to sew both sides down onto the blue half of my hat because my machine was being picky and skipping stitches on they grey fabric if there was no blue fabric as well (I got around this on the hem by inserting thin pieces from the blue's selvage into the seam). But if your machine isn't being picky or you are hand sewing this, then you could split the excess and sew them down onto their corresponding half. Example above, as usual.

Optional step that MUST go here. If you are attaching a ribbon, or lace for a trim to edge you have to do it now. I do not recommend this step to beginners. I recommend sewing it down while rolling the edge to create the hem, and then securing the other side of the ribbon/lace further into the piece because this guarantees a better placement and straighter lines. If you are doing this step along solely the bottom or front edges then let the lace/ribbon stick out further than the edge of the fabric, so you can fold it under the hem.

The final required step is to hem it, just fold what remains of the raw edge and sew it down.

Final optional step is for adding little trinkets. I added trinkets to the front corners and the floppy bit in the back like the Archivists are depicted as having. I used embroidery thread and slid the needle to go between the seams and tied it off on the inside. If your trinkets are not detachable, like the little stars on my hat, you need to thread the needle through the ring before putting it back into the hat and tying off the thread. Thinner cord or thin ribbon could work as well.

*I actually just did some tests and I have to be tilted further back than lying flat on my back for it to fall off. I was able to bend over and look through my knees and it didn't fall off. I tested it's wind resistance against my two strongest fans and neither could knock it off my head even when I shook it. So I think it will stay in place just shy of someone pointing a leaf blower at you.

Enjoy these pictures of the finished product, including a glamor shot of me wearing it backwards while I fumble with my phone for a picture.

[gardenvarietycrafts]

Finished Object... Thursday?

My fiancée asked for the tablet woven bracelet I said I'd make, meaning I had to finish the project currently on the loom first. This cord is just a tad too wide for this particular bag, so I may end up making a narrower one later, but for now it holds things shut and will work until I figure out something better. I'm still really proud of this band and I learned a lot while making it.

Because bracelets are so small, the warping and weaving were actually pretty quick for that, so it only took about a day to weave once the loom was free. I'm still working on tension and consistency with projects over about 14 cards (this one was 24) but I still like how this turned out. It's a bit shorter than what I'd intended, so I have plans for changes for the next one, but it does make me want to keep trying bigger weaving projects!

Not a recent finish, but I did finish the second test knit of the dice bag pattern, and will start editing the pattern soon!

[molllsprple]

Strictly business

Part 3

Part 2

I’ve had a bit of a cold this week, so I am sorry for the delay. There may or may not be something spicy coming in chapter 4 🤭 just a heads up.

I hope you Enjoy!

You traced the woven gauze that encircled your thigh, as you gazed out the small window of your room, counting the cobwebs that decorated the walls. In the few months that you had worked for Mihawk, you had barely shared an interaction that lasted longer than thirty seconds, yet, in a matter of hours you had managed to turn your working relationship on its head, every ounce of professionalism going out the window. For this reason, you had decided to keep to the narrow confines of your room over the next few days, biding your time as the ship sailed to its next destination—Not that you knew how long that would be or where you were even going. Mihawk had simply set the sails and said nothing more.

He hadn’t come to check on you since dumping you in here, for which you were secretly thankful for, however you would occasionally catch sight of his shadow creeping in from under the door at night, lingering a while before it eventually retreated down the hallway.

With a deep exhale, you hugged your legs to your chest under the musty sheets, eyes slipping shut as the gentle rise and fall of each wave lulled you into a state of comfort. Now that your leg had healed a little, you were hoping to take up your next assignment in an attempt to escape this awkward atmosphere. It was what you were being paid for after all. Mihawk had been more than generous, and you didn’t want to burden him any longer.

Your stomach lurched at the sound of knuckles on wood, as you shot out of bed in an instant, hastily straightening out your clothes and smoothing your hair. Your hand hovered over the door knob before eventually grabbing and twisting, inching the door open to unveil Mihawk’s lean figure crowding the doorway. Your cheeks flushed as you daringly met his molten gold gaze.

“We’re here” Mihawk announced, apparently no time for pleasantries, as he immediately turned to slip out the door to the upper deck.

You lingered at the door before slowly retracing Mihawk’s steps towards the top deck, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light of day. As you blinked your surroundings into focus, the air around you became frigid and thick with a gloomy smog. You blinked again, as you took in the murky landscape of dense forests and crumbling ruins that surrounded a castle at the centre of the island. Your eyebrows furrowed. “We’re—Sorry…where are we?”

Mihawk’s eyes remained fixed on the land infront of him, as he leaned against the side of the vessel, the feather on his hat swirling and dancing with every gust of wind.

“Kuraigana island” He replied flatly, eyes glazed over and lost somewhere in the distance. “My home”.

You noted the subtle tone of sadness in his words, as you followed his line of sight, noticing how some of the structure of the castle had began to crumble away.

“Why are we here?” You asked, carefully moving to occupy the space on his right.

Mihawk finally turned to look down in your direction “I’m going to train you”.

You tilted your head, eyebrows knitting in confusion as you scanned his side profile “Train me?”

——————————————————————————-

Mihawk lead you to a large stone ruin just outside the castle, a tall circle of stone that looked like it could have been a turret at some point in time. You clutched the foreign object between your hands, squeezing the woven cotton handle to achieve a better grip. The katana Mihawk had provided you was beautifully crafted, and even though you had little experience wielding a sword, you could appreciate good craftsmanship when you saw it. You could feel how the heavy steel carried great momentum with each fell swoop as you experimentally switched the blade between your unpracticed hands.

“I appreciate the offer, but please explain to me why I need sword practice when I’m perfectly capable wielding knives.”

Mihawk stood parallel to you, stance casual and expression nonchalant as he watched you play with the sword. “If you want to work for me, then I expect your capabilities to match my own.” He took two slow steps towards you, capturing the tip of your blade between his fingers before gently resting it to point at the smooth skin of his exposed chest. “Knives are practical short range, but a sword provides the ability to strike from a distance”. Mihawk’s eyes subtly skimmed over your face, before travelling downwards “…Making you less vulnerable.”

You watched his movements before flicking your eyes over his shoulder, settling on the large sword strapped to his back “Aren’t swords your thing?” You asked, eyes returning back to his face to find that his gaze hadn’t left you for a second “…I’d really hate to take your spotlight.” A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Mihawk did not return your amusement.

You huffed out a laugh “So you’re gonna fight me with that big sword of yours” You said lowly, words coming out a little more suggestive than you intended. “I hardly think that’s playing fair.”

Mihawk’s fingers slipped from your blade, stepping back to resume his former position as he began to remove the large sword, along with his Leather coat and feather hat, leaving him in black trousers and white low buttoned shirt. “I won’t be using Yoru against you, not for now at least” He turned to face you again “Now I want you to come at me, as if I were your enemy”

You straightened up slightly as you lowered the blade. Sure, there had been times in the past where that arrogant face of his had pissed you off, but you never wanted to actually hurt him. “What!?”

Mihawk’s golden irises darkened as he flexed his fingers and readied his stance. ”Come. At. Me.”

If he wanted a fight, then you would give him one.

Raising the sword, you began to bolt forward, swinging the heavy steel from left to right, each time missing by a mile as Mihawk dodged each failing attempt with ease. It was like a dance of sorts, his every movement swift and graceful as he ducked and weaved between each lethal slice. You locked eyes as you took another swing, this time going for an uppercut.

Missed.

You spun around clockwise, the blade picking up speed as you tried to catch him out with an attack from the side.

Missed again.

The two of you were so entangled in the passion of the fight, that you barely had time to register the large rock that your foot was heading towards.

Mihawk fiercely grabbed your right arm before spinning your back to be flush with his chest.

“Clumsy” He scolded, his left hand assuming an unforgiving hold on your waist as he brought the blade up to your neck with the other.

You wondered whether it would bruise later.

“You need to watch your footwork” He rumbled, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as his deep vocals hummed through your bones, making your hair stand on end. You were rendered utterly breathless, and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was from the physical exertion.

You struggled in vain, hoping Mihawk would fail to notice the way your pulse wasn’t slowing down.

Gently, he lowered the blade, the heat of his body seeping away as he separated from behind you, left hand slipping from its hold on your waist.

“Again” He commanded, readying his position once more.

You attempted to regain some composure as you turned to face him, however your movements were stunted by the sharp pain that darted through your thigh muscle, legs buckling under the strain. “Shit” You gritted, clutching the source of the pain.

In the blink of an eye, Mihawk was crouched beside you, arm hooked under yours as he helped to support your weight.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He admitted quietly, plucking the sword from your grip.

—————————————————————

You sighed deeply, as you slumped back against one of Mihawk’s lavish sofas that framed the fireplace in his living room. Your nostrils were overwhelmed by the rich smell of burning wood, as the comforting heat served to sooth your every ache.

Mihawk’s figure, softly illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, was currently hunched on the floor in front of you, assessing your wound, despite your persistent protests. The injury itself had healed over mostly, but it would still take some time before you would see it mend completely.

Your silhouettes both sat in perfect silence, interrupted only by the occasional crackle and snap of the fireplace, as the flames cast subtle shadows over Mihawk’s face, making him appear a little softer than what you were used to.

Unfortunately, the fire did nothing to resolve the tightness in Mihawk’s broad shoulders, which had been there since coming back from training. Tension oozed out with every harsh tug of gauze, all finesse long abandoned, as his hawkeyes remained fixated on the damage caused to your thigh. You had hoped that he had forgiven you by now, but going by his actions, it was evident that he was still holding some sort of grudge. You sighed again quietly, tipping your head back against the sofa and closing your eyes, trying to zone out the wave of guilt that was beginning to rise in your stomach.

“I shouldn’t have let you go” Mihawk eventually says, the velvety baritone of his voice disrupting the silence like a ripple in water.

Your eyes shoot open as you sit up to face him, frantically looking over his figure as if it would somehow reveal to you the meaning of his words “What?” You question, completely dumbfounded.

Mihawk remained with his head bowed, eyes obstructed by the dark curls that hung untamed by the absence of his hat. “That man” He spat the words like they were venom “—I knew how dangerous he was—and I still…let you go”

You watched in silence as he spoke.

“It’s my fault—this—it’s all my fault” Mihawk continued, refusing to meet your eye-line as he bitterly choked out each word.

You sat deadly still, taken aback by his admission. “Hey, Mihawk—don’t be silly” You stretched out your fingers in an attempt to ease his conscious, delicately placing them on top of his hand.

Mihawk flinched at the contact, before finally looking up to meet your gaze.

His eyes held the same dangerous fury that you had witnessed that day after the incident, however, it was clear now that his anger had never been directed at you.

You stared back as him wide-eyed, wracking your brain for something to say—anything. Except…you couldn’t find the words. Instead, your hand began to move on its own, slowly lifting up to cradle the roughness of his jawline, as you gently thumbed the smooth skin of his cheek.

Mihawk’s eyes softened slightly in return, as he reluctantly melted into the warmth of your palm. The fierceness of his gaze would have been intimidating, if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes were noticeably blood shot and forming bags around the edges.

He looks so tired, You thought, your gaze drifting over his rugged features. It was almost painful, seeing the way he was punishing himself for a mistake that no one could have seen coming. You wanted to sooth his woes, and give him something warm enough to drown out his frustrations. Although, you feared that it would ruin your working relationship forever.

Harbouring affection for your boss had never been part of the contract.

Part 4

(If you would like to be added to my taglist, please let me know in the comments!)

@kaykay0315 @lebanese-afg-ya @sapphireonline

[latelyanobsession]

Hello darling! Hope you're having a good time💜 what about Billy and P and G?

(gif not mine)

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Billy is exceptionally gentle with you in the beginning, most likely because a. he's not investing a lot because he figures you're gonna wise up and leave soon enough, and b. as you begin to stay longer and longer he then kinda starts panicking about how he should go about putting in the effort to make you stay. Well because... he really didn't think you would. So now that you're here each new day he begins to worry. He still worries that you're going to leave. That never left. But now you've been around so long that he actually cares now. He's invested. There's some feeling and emotion at stake. Oh god! Bleeding hearts of the world unite, amiright? And he's bad at this. Like endearingly, baby deer on shaky legs, bad. He's so worried that if he doesn't treat you gently, wrap you in bubble wrap. Never lose his temper. Always kiss you. Always be the 'good boyfriend'. Never shout. Type of guy. ... That he's gonna lose you. That he's gonna break you. And that it will be his fault. And that like everything else in his life, he'll feel he deserves this. This is his lot in life.

And he has a lot to learn. And it's gonna happen. Most likely when push comes to shove and he just can't keep swallowing it anymore. You have a hell of a fight. You can't stand be treated with kid gloves. You've seen him angry, you don't like him pretending around you but not others. You shove him. You lose your own temper and hit him. He pushes you away and you fall and hit your head. And it just all explodes. Tears and fear, shame and anger and anguish. "You won't like me now!" Items being thrown and broken. Thrusting you straight into a hurricane. "I break everything I touch!" Trying to talk him through it, but really having no choice but to weather the storm with him. Waiting until he's exhausted and sliding down the wall to the floor. Knuckles bloody and drywall dented, just to sit next to him quietly. "You can be angry Billy." As he numbly sits there with tears still silently rolling down his face. "I want all of you, not some of you."

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Billy is not a patient person but he's working on it. A lot of Billy's anger is tied to his anxiety. His patience was thinnest when you were first starting off. That's when you had to be the patient one, with enough to spare for the both of you. It was almost like a long-con marshmallow test. The longer you could make your own patience last, the better payout you would get with Billy, your proverbial marshmallow.

Things are better the longer you are together. He'll catch himself as his voice rises, and he'll bite it off quickly. His eyebrows knitting together and shoulders drooping with a huffed "sorry". There's times when you might do something that irks him, and you'll catch his nose scrunching in annoyance, or his knuckles clenching and unclenching before he exhales and looks at you. "What?" "You know what?" And then you smile sheepishly, "Oh yeah... sorry." But most of his anger and his impatience has little to do with you. It's woven into his environment. It's when he realizes he got caught up spending too much time with you and is past curfew. So he may run out the door without saying 'good night' properly. Or he's gotten a less than stellar grade on a midterm, and to top it off Max is late after school.

You've had plenty of fights. More than a handful of screaming matches. But they blow over and you've learned that being with him learns having to rise and fall with his mercurial moods.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Billy is primarily serious during any and all aspects of sex, but he can complement your energy. He'll laugh with you if you laugh at something or if you fall out of your jeans onto your face. He can appreciate spontaneous and unexpected moments. But for the most part, your lungs are going to be so busy screaming that it's going to be rather hard to joke or laugh at anything.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Billy can alternate. It definitely depends on his mood, the day that it's been, how much time you have to be together, etc. He'll also definitely slow his pace to drag out his endurance and/or to make you earn it.

Billy always starts right out of the gates like a shot. He might ease in kindly. Other times not. But once in? Oh no no no, honey. You better grab onto something. He edges off a bit when he gets a good rhythm started, but the pace will stay consistent. And if he's already learned where those spots are that makes you gasp and cry? Oh, it's rough. Long deep strokes. Slow pulls back, as he locks eyes with you, just to meanly thrust back inside you. Make your neck snap backward, and your jaw fall slack.

If his orgasm is building too quickly, he backs off. Shifts and reseats himself in you shallowly. Thrusting slowly, and driving down the sensitivity. At least for himself. He usually takes this as an opportunity to drive yours through the roof. Lay rough hands on already frayed and fired-up nerve endings. Rubbing a thick wad of spit across sensitive and tingling red flesh to make you scream his name. He stops just shy of a flutter of tightened muscle around his girth. A noted quiver in your voice. A shallow hitch in your breath. And he mercilessly abandons his ministrations all to shove himself within you to the hilt. Your thighs straining and calves locking behind him as drives into you. A broad hand pinning you down as the other returns to you. Thumbing and pinching at you. Rubbing. "Come on babe." he encourages with a snap of his hips. "So close."

[marimayscarlett]

I've just seen a photo of Khira and Emil (Paul's son) and thought it was super cute. Then I realised how close the whole „Rammstein camp" is and I almost cried a few happy tears.

Photos of Kira and Emil.

Paul and Oli together on holiday with children.

Schneider spending time with Khira and Till's grandson. Ulrikes and RZKs „birthday twin” picture.

Khira DJing at an event organised by Ollie's wife.

Selfies of Mareike and Schneider's wife.

Photos of till hugging Sophia’s mum last year.

Mareike, who is good friends with both Ariele and Nikki Landers.

The fact that Mareike has been practising in Fehrbelliner Strasse for years.

It makes me realise that they are all so much more than a band. Friends, some of whom have known each other for over 40 years and are almost like family. I think that’s so beautiful. Like imagine knowing some of your friends for more than 40 years ❤️ (and would love to be a fly on the wall when they all hang out together and talk about the good old days 😭❤️)

Hi 👋🏼

I must say, these constellations cross my mind quite frequently, especially since last year. A band which worked and created musical monuments together, rose to unbelievable fame together, went through hardships together for three decades and band members who knew each other even longer isn't the norm - so many bands out there exist only up to now because of numerous line up changes, to the point where only a small percentage of the original founding members are still present. It's also not totally the norm that family members of the band are this close to each other, support each other (like you mentioned Khira Li doing a DJ Set for Marie Riedel), spending time together so naturally. In my mind at least, all this can be viewed as signs for the band being so much more than just the work place of six creative minds who found each other 30 years ago - it's like a living space of vastly different characters, who stick together for better and for worse and have like a tightly knit support system out of their families around them, which are then again connected with each other. Of course I'm just speculating here a tiny bit on the closeness, but there really seem to exist several deeper and quite friendly connections between family members; and this whole net of support which is woven around the band is such a comforting concept to me 🤍

I didn't find pictures to all of the connections you mentioned (would honestly love to see a selfie of Mareike and Uli), but here are some photos, first up the 'birthday twin' picture of Richard and Ulrike (both having their birthday on the 24th of July:

Khira Li, Merlin, Emil and a friend of theirs, maybe enjoying the fact that Richard has a pool on his roof:

Schneider being a guest on Khira Li's birthday as well as during an excursion (even though I think the child is Maxime and not Till's grandson, I'm not entirely sure):

I'm very sure that there are more pictures like these out there, but that's enough digging for now 😇

[stardustbarbarians]

Too Pretty For War

Chapter 4 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9)

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: The only way for Prince Sam to end a war is by marrying the enemy.

Tags: Prince!Sam, war, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst

A/N: Dedicated to both @safety-sam and @safarisammy. I hope this helps make you feel better after your day at work, Syd <3. Also I tried to incorporate real ancient Athenian and Spartan wedding traditions into this chapter (from what I read in Wikipedia, anyway) and all I gotta say is the Spartans were whack when it comes to weddings. I encourage you to look up their traditions, it’s wild. As always, enjoy!

Words: 3.6 k

+++

It felt as if Sam had blinked and the wedding was upon him. He supposed that it was easy to lose track of time when one was so buried in work. He awoke that day with his eyes feeling sunken in, the burden of having barely slept weighing heavily on him. As soon as his eyes opened, his heart hammered within his chest. It would do that for the entirety of the day. 

He only was allowed a moment to himself before his servants burst into his chambers to ready him for the day’s festivities. Sam simply resigned himself to them, knowing there was nothing he could do to resist and unwilling to make their jobs difficult. He was first required to bathe; it was explained to him that the water was delivered special and would help with fertility. He tried not to think on that too hard. After he was dried off, he was dressed in his first set of garments for the day. 

His first task for the day was to make an offering to the gods at the temple. In lieu of this, his outfit reflected that of the gods. He was dripping in gold; gold necklaces draping from his neck, gold bangles clasped to his wrists and biceps, gold ornaments woven into his hair and gold embroidered into his clothing. His chest was left bare, the embroidered cloth only wrapped around his hips and coming to his mid thigh. To make his look even more over the top, gold was intricately painted over his arms that branched onto his pectorals; even teardrops were painted below his eyes. It was all too much. Sam felt heavy and exposed, more like an art piece than human and not in a good way. 

Finally, the time came to travel to the temple. The prince stepped out of his chambers, relieved to see Daniel standing outside waiting. He was dressed in his best as well, a bronze headpiece wrapped around his forehead with a pearl dangling down the center was tucked under the black curls that framed his face. A chest plate made of leather and bronze exposed his muscular arms, bracelets of his own clamped to his arms. His pteruges hung from his waist, the leather and bright red cloth feathering down to his mid thigh. He leaned against one of the support pillars with his arms crossed over his chest, lost in his own thoughts as he watched the clouds pass by in the morning sky. When he saw the prince walk out of his chambers, the content smile fell from his lips and his eyes widened. He stood up straight as if called to attention, his arms falling to his sides. 

“Jest as you wish. I am certain I look as ridiculous as I feel,” Sam joked, sending a playful smile towards the advisor. Daniel did not move, rigid as a block of wood. 

Samuel continued to approach the scholar, his concern growing for Daniel as he continued to stare at Sam as if he were the visage of a dead relation. The prince’s smile grew weak, his hands nervously coming to fiddle with one of the tassels that tied his tunic onto his waist. 

“Have you been caught by Medusa's glare, Daniel?” He was stopped directly in front of his best friend, his brows knit together as he scanned his eyes over Daniel to see if he was sick or injured. 

“You put Aphrodite to shame,” the scholar finally muttered. He was still in a dazed state, his eyes locked onto Samuel’s form. 

The prince felt himself turn pink at the statement, his face turning hot as the meaning of those words sunk in. He was rendered speechless, unable to comprehend what his best friend had uttered to him. 

“Pardon?” he weakly asked, his head feeling light all of the sudden. 

That seemed to snap Daniel out of whatever trance he was put under. Blinking a few times, his cheeks also turned pink. He swallowed hard after closing his eyes, composing himself. Why, Samuel could not say. 

“Forgive me, your highness. We must make haste. You do not wish to be late for the temple ceremony,” the advisor quickly informed, looking everywhere but in Sam’s eyes. 

Without any further words spoken, the scholar turned on his heel and walked towards the main exit. Sam stood in his place, thoroughly confused as to what had just transpired. Daniel never called him “your highness”. 

+++

The trek up and down the mountain to the temple was exhaustive and lengthy. By the time Sam and his betrothed had made it back to the palace the sun was low in the sky despite having left in the morning. He was hungry and fatigued but he was not allowed to eat until the feast that was being held at dusk. For now, he had to be ushered back to his room and changed out of his gold outfit. 

Another one of those fertility baths was prepared, the prince happily sinking into the basin this time despite the meaning behind it. He was so glad to be able to relieve his feet, sighing heavily as he was submerged in the water. He stayed in that water for as long as he could, closing his eyes and resting his head against the lip of the bath. He could faintly hear the crash of the waves in the distance, the only thing preventing him from spiraling into a panic. 

The biggest part of the ceremony was next. It was the most important and most official event for the matrimony. In about an hour’s time, Samuel would be carted around the entirety of Athens with his betrothed by his side to show that they were both no longer individuals but united as one. Everyone would know that he was married to Princess Y/N and that the war had ceased. There would no longer be any violence tolerated towards either side, a new era would be ushered in. It wasn’t supposed to be Samuel who brought on peace with the Spartans. He was not ready for married life or when he would eventually take his father’s place as king. He was far from prepared for anything the past month had thrown at him and he was petrified for what came next. 

A knock on the door startled him, water splashing onto the floor. “Prince Samuel. You must be dressed.” 

Sam groaned at the thought of having to be on his feet once more, he regretfully pulled himself out of the aromatic waters and winces as pressure was applied to his feet. He was once again toweled off, removing the tie he put in his hair to keep it out of the water. 

He walked into his adjoining chambers, his eyes falling upon his outfit for the upcoming event. This time he was provided with a chest plate, but it was far from one solid piece. The collar wrapped around his neck loosely, a square cut in the center in an imitation of his jugular notch. Branching off from the collar were pieces that rested on his shoulder blades, two protrusions stemming down from his shoulders that came to a point at his navel. Strung between the two lengths of bronze running down his chest was a piece that covered his pectorals shaped like a bird’s wings, a slithering length of curving metal snaking between the collar and the point of the chest piece. The entire item was textured in intricate detail; leaves of vines, scales of snakes, and feathers of birds carved into the piece. Gauntlets of the same material and carved with the same details were strapped to Samuel’s forearms, leather straps keeping them flush against his skin. Just like Daniel, Samuel was adorned with pteruges on his lower half, but instead of bright red Sam wore light brown. For this look, his hair was pulled back and twisted up into a bun, his regular wreath of golden leaves placed upon his scalp. He never thought he’d be so comforted by being stabbed in the skull. 

The chest piece he wore was one of great value. Sam shifted, listening to the clinking. The heavy metal dug into his shoulders and caused him to wince, feeling the thick edges gouging into his soft flesh. He wore items similar, but never for long. Unlike those used for practicality, this one was for the ornate. The bottom stabbed into the skin of his stomach, causing him to stand up straight. It was obviously not made for him. It was far too short. 

Just as he was being fitted into his sandals, Daniel slipped in through the door of his chambers. He fortunately did not freeze like the morning’s mishap. However, the advisor was acting differently; sheepishly. He kept giving the prince this lingering glance that reminded Samuel of a wounded animal, his chest aching each time Sam laid his eyes upon Daniel. 

“They send for you. The time is nearing,” Daniel reported, his tone bordering melancholic. The smile he gave the prince was rueful, his eyes almost glittering in the light of the setting sun. 

Samuel’s last sandal was tied around his calf, taking a breath and nodding at his team of servants before approaching his best friend. “Lead the way, my friend.” 

Doing as commanded, Daniel gave the prince a slightly brighter smile before holding the door open for Sam and motioning for him to take leave first. The two of them walked down the echoing marble corridors, silence befalling them in a manner it never had before. It was tense and uncomfortable, almost as if they were anticipating for the other to speak. 

“Where are the guards?” Sam finally spoke, looking around to find that they were the only two souls around. 

“I sent them away,” he answered, tucking his curls behind his ear as he looked down. He was wearing his pearl earrings once more, the ones Sam had gifted him. He was behaving sheepishly, so very unlike the Daniel he knew. 

“Daniel, what burdens you?” 

He still would not look at the prince. That rueful smile was back on his lips but he did not answer. The two continued to walk towards the doors to the stables, Sam halting them before they entered. 

“You have been acting out of sorts since the morning. You hardly smile and when you do it is weighed down by immense sorrow. Please enlighten me as to your struggle, I worry for you.” Sam gently captured his best friend’s arm in his hand, finally causing the scholar to look directly at Samuel for the time that day. 

The prince watched as Daniel’s eyes drank in his form, that mournful look to his smile growing. His eye brows knit together as his eyes grew heavier with regret. 

“You look so beautiful, swan,” Daniel whispered, the arms that Sam was holding coming up to run a hand gently down the skin of the prince’s bicep. 

Samuel was shocked by the words. They were spoken directly from the heart, all of the scholar’s shield’s lowered. However, the surprise he felt in that moment paled in comparison to the absolute bewilderment he experienced when he felt his lips captured by those of his best friend. He felt both hands clutch desperately at the prince’s biceps, the royal acting off instinct alone and reciprocating the intimacy. While his mind was as functional as a square wheel, Samuel could comprehend the palpable desperation from Daniel. 

“Forgive me, swan,” he begged, resting his forehead against the prince’s after pulling away, “I found I could not bear the idea of never knowing what those perfect lips felt like before I lost you wholly.” 

That was when Sam finally opened his eyes, seeing just how anguished and tortured his best friend looked. That was what finally caused his brain to start functioning properly again. All of a sudden, everything fell into place. Daniel was in love with him. And he had to watch the man he loved being married off to a complete stranger who despised him. 

“Daniel…” He was paralyzed. He did not know what to say or what he should do. And he would not get the chance to figure out the right course of action. 

“She awaits.” The scholar’s voice cracked in pure emotion as he disentangled himself from his best friend, Samuel feeling the regret in his lingering touch. 

Sam had no choice but to enter the stables as Daniel opened the doors. He was spotted by the stable hands and quickly ushered in, the prince watching over his shoulder as his best friend vanished from view. His heart felt as if it fractured within his chest when he lost sight of the scholar. Hands continued to pull him towards the chariot his betrothed stood in; he wanted to fight and chase after Daniel, but he refrained. 

All but in a daze, the prince was hoisted into the chariot next to Princess Y/N. She had a veil draped over - one that she has worn for the past two days in line with tradition - as well as the set of armor she wore the first day they met. The princess had insisted upon wearing the armor, citing that it was Spartan tradition for the bride to dress in men’s attire. While he did not fully understand the reasoning behind such a thing, he did not argue with her on the matter. 

With both royals inside, the doors to the stables were pulled open and the horses began their trot into the streets. Samuel was in a daze, feeling the eyes of thousands of souls weigh on him. Their cheering was uproarious, boisterous and loud as peasants stood outside their homesteads and markets just to catch a glimpse at the newly weds. They were not cheering for Samuel. No one had ever wanted the youngest son to be the one ascending to the throne. The peasants were celebrating the end of the war, not him. 

It was not until the princess had driven her elbow into Sam’s ribs that he realized he was lost in his own thoughts. Instead of acknowledging his citizens and thanking them for their adoration, the prince was staring ahead at nothing and imitating stone. Though somewhat irked by the manner in which Princess Y/N handled it, Sam began waving and smiling just as he was supposed to. However, it seemed that everywhere he looked, the prince picked Daniel out in the crowd only for him to realize it was his mind fooling him. It continued throughout the entire chariot ride, Samuel believing he spotted his best friend only for him to be a peasant upon second glance. 

The prince was growing exhausted of being on display, the muscles in his face growing tired from being forced to smile for so long. He was uncertain for how much longer he could continue the charade, the sun slipping below the horizon and his fatigue crashing into him like a monstrous wave. It was only a short while longer until the chariot was pulled back into the stables attached to the palace, Sam never having been so thankful to smell the hay and manure in his entire life. He stumbled out of the chariot, Pythius catching him in his arms when the prince became light headed after the heat of the day and lack of food consumed finally got to him. 

“You seem faint, your majesty,” Princess Y/N commented, her hand in that of a maid’s who was leading her out of the stables. 

Not having the strength to ignore her, Samuel glared daggers at his new wife. “Keep to yourself, princess.” 

The prince did not wait for her to respond nor react before he stormed out. He did hear her shout something out after him, but he ignored it. After the entire day he had endured, she was the absolute last person he wanted to interact with or even glance at. However, he was not so lucky. Sam was being escorted back to his room in order to be changed into his final garment of the day in order to have a celebratory feast in honor of his marriage. 

While he was finally freed from that wretchedly small breast plate, Samuel did not want to be dressed again. At least he was spared from receiving another fertility bath, but that was his only mercy. The armor was exchanged for a simple Chiton, multiple gold discs resting atop his shoulder that held both the front and back pieces together; a length of the fabric draping against his back almost like a cape. A belt made of leather inlaid with gold was fastened to his waist, gaps along the sides of his torso and legs exposing his sun kissed skin. His golden crown was replaced by one weaved out of green vines, small white flowers and dark red berries protruding out of the greenery. His hair was released from its tie, made to hang naturally down. It was by far the most comfortable garment of the night, much to Sam’s relief. 

Out of his chambers, the guards escorted Sam to the dining hall. The sun had fully set in the sky, the stars once again taking their place in the inky black. Torches warmly glowed inside the palace, offering light in the otherwise dim structure. The prince had not realized he was scanning every nook and cranny for his advisor only for him to come out fruitless. 

He finally was able to catch a glimpse of him in the dining hall, seated to the right of Veronica. When Daniel spotted him, he gave Sam another one of those rueful smiles before casting his gaze away. It took everything in his power not to make a run for his best friend. Instead, he forced himself to take his proper seat at the head of the table next to his wife. He could barely stand to be so close to her, his contempt for her taking root within his chest. 

The prince barely paid any mind to the festivities that took place around him, merely focusing on the food in front of him. He only spoke when addressed, otherwise brooding into his meal. Samuel always believed feasts to be dull, anyway. Not even the musicians had been able to raise his spirits. He kept stealing glances at his advisor, always coming up frustrated when he found that Daniel refused to look his way. 

It was only very late in the night that the prince was finally able to capture Daniel’s attention, motioning for them to find a private location. He needed to say his piece to the scholar. Daniel was able to say his, now it was Sam’s turn. Obliging, Daniel followed the groom off into a hallway far enough away from the dining hall so that they were unlikely to be interrupted. 

“What is it you wish from me? If you intend to have me apologize for earlier, you are mistaken,” Daniel spoke first, his defenses up. Sam could not help but feel hurt at the assumption. 

Before he spoke, Samuel took his best friend’s hands into both of his. He gazed deeply into his eyes as he softly uttered what he had been wanting to say all day. “Hear me, Daniel. I know your feelings towards me now. But I cannot reciprocate. I have a wife that I need to give my heart to; it is only fair.” 

The prince felt tears sting his eyes as he watched the understanding expression befall Daniel. The man hung his head, his hands squeezing Samuel’s gently. 

“You speak that as if I did not know. I knew it was a doomed venture from the first yearnings my heart had for you. I have come to terms with this,” Daniel explained, lifting his head up to also look his best friend in the eye. 

“Will you not lament at never being able to have me in the capacity you wish for?” Sam swallowed thickly after his voice cracked from raw emotion. 

Dropping one of his hands, Daniel used it to caress the prince’s cheek. The royal leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as tears fell from them. 

“I have been languishing for far longer than you know, my dear Samuel. I am able to handle this, worry not about me.” 

Sam opened his eyes to find that he was not the only one crying. Despite the smile upon his lips, Daniel’s cheeks were wet with tears that reflected in the torchlight. Sam believed the scholar that he would be able to handle his emotions, but he did not want him to have to. Nodding his head, he places his free hand atop the one resting on his cheek. He placed a soft kiss to the inside of Daniel’s palm, his lips lingering for a moment. 

“You must return. They will notice your absence,” the advisor noted, regret filling his voice. That anger Samuel experienced at the start of the feast made a fiery return. Right, he had a wife that he needed to be with now. 

The prince removed himself from all physical contact with Daniel, unable to look at him lest his crying get worse. He would carry the guilt over breaking his best friend’s heart for the rest of his life, knowing that Daniel would never truly be happy despite deserving such a thing. 

As he made his way back to that wretched feast, Samuel began cursing the war once again. It had stripped him of everything and yet still demanded more from him. No, not the war. The princess. She was everything that he hated. She was who caused him to lose the life he was meant to live. She was the death of his freedom and the death of his dreams. If it were not for her poisoning Joshua all those years ago, the war would never have started and Samuel would not be forced to be her husband. 

Samuel despised her.

+++

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[ss-hikaru]

Grey Knit Top Collection

Testing out a bunch of Style Arc knit top patterns. I made this ages ago, but the knit fabric was so soft I needed to wear a padded bra and I couldn't be bothered, so like here we are 6 months later when it's totally not the season for short sleeves lol.

This project made me decide to buy a cover-stitch machine. Or more specifically, a Janome 1200D so I can have 3 stitches in one. Now to save up...

Some notes I made as I sewed, although the main one is I need to use knit fabrics with more structure...

Besharl Top

Overlocker seams is fast and convenient, I should do this more often 🙃

Twin needle on knits with the sewing machine results in channelling, despite me looking up ways to try to avoid this ☹️

Diagonal feature lines not as prominent on the actual garmet as expected

Courtney Top

Reduced length by 10cm

Using a zig zag stitch on the hem ironed out well, a better result than the twin needle.

Probably would work better in a woven fabric, even though the pattern says knits can also be used.

Teagan Top

This top was essentially a mix of the Bersharl side seams and Courtney sleeves

I liked that the pattern included a shorten line, ended up shortening by 10cm

Used a walking foot for the hem - works super well

Ignored neck binding instructions, seemed like a pain in the ass

Tried top stitching all seams, pretty pleased with the flat non-crinkled result. Walking foot so good

Side seam detail not as obvious in this one compared to the Bershal

Ada Top

The pockets don't look very elegant, probably because the fabric is too soft

I like the shape of the collar

I guess by spring time I'll be ready to make some better versions of these tops 😁

[ineffablyendless]

“Does the sea dream?”

The question-not-question isn’t quite whispered, but it’s soft, and Hob’s lips barely part to ask it. His mind is leagues away, thoughts a gentle, bubbling brook, but he stares at Dream’s tired face with a reverence he still feels undeserved, yet familiar. Dream may feel its cool contentedness if he would simply reach, dip his fingers in this cool, familiar current, the gates of his mind open, open, always welcome for new and loved things. Thoughts bump and stick briefly upon half-hearted snags, and Hob’s tongue would pluck and gift them like pretty-but-ultimately-worthless stones, just to let Dream show his appreciation. Hob was never one to keep words nor small joys to himself.  

“She does.” Dream answers, in that same softness. The moon is full and night is plump with living things. Here, in the upstairs flat of the New Inn five-past-two, this meagre dwelling above a temple of drink and song, the air is gentle and heavy as a weighted blanket. Sacred. 

They lay side-by-side above the bedsheets, because they had rejoiced in spontaneous revelry that night. The pub’s regulars had crowed, upon entering, that it would be their 5th wedding anniversary as the clock strikes midnight, and the sheer wondrous second-hand joy had persuaded Dream to join in on the sheer marvellous humanity of it all. Joy for the sake of joy. Hopes and dreams and pure-hearted glee seep into the very floorboards of this pub, intoxicating him all the better than the drinks Hob had continued to ply him with as the night wears on. 

Dream had stuck around for Hob to close, and they had grasped at each other, murmuring and hushing and giggling all the way upstairs. Hob had been plenty handsy, and Dream wasn’t of the mind to refuse him, a mile soberer and arousal a sticky-heat, a low burning flame, as it always would be with his lover, his husband, oldest and dearest friend. 

Yet when they had finally crawled into bed, they found themselves too caught, instead, in holding one another, palm-to-palm and skin against skin. Dream with his face pressed against Hob’s chest, listening, listening, the rushing blood and the thumping of heart as if each cell carries with it a singular story, this mortal vessel a miniature kingdom of tales in and of itself. Dream is nothing so confined; he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him. He is the subconscious and every sleeping mind of every being that lives, would live, have lived. His skin knit of every woven lie and his blood the wind of singing breath. For Hob, Dream listens, and makes a heart, and sets it to beat. For Hob.

Hob hums, and strokes Dream’s hair between his fingers. Strong, callused hands. Hands never meant for idle, hands for work. Yet they idle here, they rest. They rest for Dream. 

“Does she have nightmares?”

A curious question. One Dream spares a thought for longer than before, not because he doesn’t know, but because it is…difficult, to explain, in simple, soft words, in human words. 

“She does.” he simply says, instead. 

Hob’s hand pauses, briefly. “What scares the sea?”

Many things, Dream thinks. Nothing at all. She is not Endless, for nothing comes close to Endless, but she is not dissimilar. For she is every drop and broken coral, the bounty and the isolating blue and a cosmic force of rage. Life and Death and Love and Indifference. 

What scares the sea?

“Herself.” Dream answers. “She fears herself, most of all.”

The night is plump and soft and sacred, and Hob Gadling tucks the sea against himself. It is every drop and broken coral, every singing breath and living being, and for tonight, it makes a heart to beat, just for him.