#local maker gifts

[doesnotloveyou]

I DID IT. I MADE A GIFSET. AND IT WAS A NIGHTMARE

[fingertipsmp3]

First volunteering shift tomorrow 😵‍💫

[leam1983]

Santa Claus is a Capitalist Pig

The funny thing with post-Holidays Slack huddles is when employees show off their gifts. I received a pair of Crocs and a bunch of gift cards, while I'm seeing younger and usually female colleagues look a little disappointed with their Gucci or Balenciaga paraphernalia. I say paraphernalia because most of them aren't from excessively wealthy backgrounds, and most of them can't afford either brand's more tentpole articles. They end up settling on makeup bags, puffy clutches that feel like glorified soft-touch pencil cases - and everything looks incredibly shoddy, even when it's provably genuine.

I'm reminded of leatherwork-related YouTube channels that destroy Birkin or Louis Vuitton bags on purpose to more or less make it obvious that people are paying for a brand, not for quality. You realize the world is a little fucked up when your own no-name, locally-sourced and retraceable messenger bag that cost a fraction of the similar LV bag is actually sturdier and more usable on the long term.

The office fashionistas looked frustrated and saddened. I just shrugged and told them to check out Wish or Temu, if all they wanted was something with a logo. For actually usable, tough and resistant apparel, there's nothing like the local Maker Faires.

[covidsafecosplay]

Do you need affordable sewing supplies? Do you want to help cut down on waste and fast fashion?

Do yourself a favor and check out Swanson's Fabrics! The physical location is in Turners Falls, Massachusetts, USA, but the online shop will ship to you!

I can't remember who first told me about Swanson's, but they're a textile thrift shop that collects and repurposes donations of unused sewing supplies. Their physical location, The Stash House, offers community sewing resources and a studio. For non-locals (such as myself), their online shop offers fabrics, patterns, and notions. The shop restocks on Thursdays, and they have a constantly-rotating collection of items. If you like thrifting secondhand craft materials, Swanson's is for you!

Via their official "about" page:

Swanson’s Fabrics and notions are gifts from retired sewing stashes. They are the fabrics and supplies that sewers and fiber-artists naturally accumulate. I had a suspicion that the reason we all collect so much is that we didn’t have a place “good enough” to take it. So I made the place. Turns out I was right, and thanks to my community (and yours) of makers and crafters, I can resell these fine materials at a low, approachable cost. ALL FABRICS ARE $5.00/yd, NO MATTER WHAT THEY ARE MADE OF. REALLY. I MEAN IT. I KNOW. UNBELIEVABLE BUT TRUE! As we come to grips with the climate crisis, interrupted supply lines, and our dependency on slave-labor in far away countries to produce our cotton and fiber goods, we need another way to approach the fabrics in our lives. We have a massive resource of textile goods in our country and it is time to tap into it. Our attics, basements, thrift-store donation bins, and dumpsters are brimming with discarded fabrics. It is time to start making and trading for the things we need, and stop buying so much new stuff we don’t. We need to see ourselves as trash-rich. Customers at Swanson’s can pay for goods and services with goods and services. I accept trade of sewing and fiber supplies/materials, and trade for help in the shop. I hope to inspire you to make your own clothes, to mend the ones you have, to shop second-hand and alter things to your taste. There is a lot of power in dressing yourself. Custom is king, and you can’t have a revolution in your master’s clothes…. ❤️💪���� -Kathryn

The CovidSafeCosplay blog and its admin are unaffiliated with Swanson's Fabrics, and are simply sharing the resource.

Do you have a favorite place to get your crafting supplies? Share in the comments or via a reblog! Bonus points for those that prioritize sustainability, accessibility, community, and trade.

[cassiefairy]

Why you should start your Christmas shopping for creative gifts right now

If, like me, you prefer to choose handmade gifts and artisan pieces created by local makers, November is the perfect time to start your Christmas shopping to make sure your customised presents are ready by the big day...

Post contains affiliate links I love to shop with independent makers when I’m choosing festive gifts for my friends and family. It means so much to those creative folk that you’re supporting their small business, and you’re sure to find something completely unique that you just wouldn’t find in the shops. Plus, it feels really special to receive something that has been specially commissioned…

[jenniferbaird]

Super excited to be involved 🖼🖼🖼 #Repost @designcanberrafestival with @let.repost • • • • • • DAIRY ROAD DESIGN MARKET// During the DESIGN Canberra Festival, we celebrate local artists and designers at the @dairyroadmarket Design Market! We proudly support the Craft ACT members whose work will feature there. On 6 Nov, visit Dairy Road and support our local makers! The heart of the festival is Canberra's creatives - our artists, craftspeople and designers who give so much to our city and our community and we thank them for their spirit, innovation, determination and generosity. We would like to thank our generous DESIGN Canberra Festival supporters ACT Government, City Renewal Authority and Australia Council for the Arts. We would like to thank our DESIGN Canberra Festival supporters: @cityrenewalcbr @act_government @auscouncilarts @dairyroadmarket #canberracityofdesign #designcanberrafestival #design #canberradesign #supportlocal #design #australiandesign #designer #maker #craft #craftanddesign #australiancreatives #visitcanberra #handmade #craftact #gift #local #supportlocal #designaustralia #ceramics #glass #woodwork #metalwork #screenprinting #artist #creativecommunity #visitcanberra #visitcbr #events (at Dairy Road Market) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkHuz4Ih9RD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[onegirlatelier]

April, 2024 | Shetland lace shawl

Hi there! It’s been a while. I’ve been kept busy by all my university work…and this shawl.

The shawl is knitted to celebrate the wedding of my friend (now friends, I should say). A wedding is really the perfect excuse for all the heritage crafts and heirloom projects that might seem too serious to gift in other occasions. I did ask the recipient beforehand if she would like it, though, and I was so, so honoured that I got an enthusiastic ‘yes’. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by many makers, whatever gift they are making.

Shetland fine openwork, a knitted lace, seems to have emerged with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria, who championed and popularised the craft. It was probably spread from the Isle of Unst to other parts of Shetland. What surprised me the most when I first read about it was that Shetland shawls and other lace pieces were largely exported as luxury items and rarely worn by islanders themselves. Women bought yarn from spinners and knitted mostly in their homes. They then took them to local merchants and exchange the finished objects for goods or (commonly after the 1880s) money to supplement the household income. The ‘supplement’ nature of this work probably means it was not compensated as much as a job outside the home would be for the same hours and skills. Besides, it was not always easy to spin an even 1-ply yarn at 1600 metres per 100 grams. For a piece of knitting with a large ‘plain’ area (i.e. only knit stitches), the unevenness was impossible to hide but could only be discovered after the area was worked. Then the maker had to either frog (unravel) the area or continue with the risk of the whole piece not being able to sell.

Whilst it is very reasonable to point out that Shetland ladies did not usually wear this type of lace (I’ve been to the Scottish Highlands once, in summer, and it was not fine lace weather), I imagine that at least for some, it wasn’t just about making money. Some sort of fulfilment must have been from the satisfaction of having a piece ‘properly done’ by continuing and adapting a traditional pattern, technique or material. I think this sort of satisfaction is also why many modern knitters are willing to spend hundreds of hours on lacework.

Intricate handknitted lace items can still be bought today (a quick search on Etsy would show many are form eastern European countries with a long and prominent craft tradition), but many are knitted for friends or family members. It always makes me so happy to see people share the gifts they have made, whether big or small, simple or complex. I joke with my online craft friends that no handmade fibre project can claim to be so unless they have a hair or two woven into it. It is the proof of existence for the maker, who tries to go against the irregular nature of handicrafts and, at the same time, accepts it. It is about wrapping up hours, weeks or months in one’s life, along with the songs they have listened to and the perfume they have worn and the memories they have made, and putting it squarely in someone else’s hands and saying: ‘All this, for you.’

A Wedding Shawl

I have not read anything about there being a standard form of ‘wedding shawl’ in the Shetland tradition. However, there is definitely a category of square shawls with similar sizes and a few construction methods. The samples I’ve seen mostly measure 1.5-2m on one side and have three parts: a central panel, four borders and a strip of edging. It is worked flat in garter lace from centre out.

Neither is there a standardised yarn weight. A widely available yarn is the Shetland Supreme Lace Weight 1-ply by Jamieson and Smith, which weighs at 400m/25g. The Queen Ring Shawl examined by Sharon Miller used a yarn at 700m/25g. From my experience, if you want the shawl to be a true ring shawl (i.e. you want to be able to pull the shawl through a ring) at the size of the Queen Ring Shawl (210cm on the side), go for 700m/25g or finer.

I chose a rectangular shawl because I had very limited time, but I did enlarge it because for me, an abundance of fabric does mean an abundance of cozy happiness.

Pattern

Shell Grid and Spider Webs Puzzle, pattern No.19 in the book Shetland Knitting Lace by Toshiyuki Shimada.

The names of the motifs are confusing. One motif (or two highly similar motifs) might just have two different names if they are produced in two different regions. Names do not mean everything, but I’ve had fun trying to match the motifs with names according to this article by Carol Christiansen at the Shetland Museum.

The double yarnovers (YO's) in the diamonds were called Cat's Eye, but perhaps the 'Spider Web' in the pattern name is referring to the three rows of double YO's in the centre panel. It has a really simple but effective edging.

Yarn

Mermaid Lace, in colourway #naturel, sold by Great British Wool in the Netherlands. This yarn is 75% merino and 25% sea algae silk. ‘Sea algae silk’ seems to be a semi-synthetic plant fibre like viscose, with algae involved as part of the raw material. (At this price point I don’t think it has anything to do with sea silk, which is fibre produced by actual shells.) The brand name for the most popular product of its type is probably Seacell.

I bought the yarn, because I had never worked with this fibre before and was curious. What I like: it was a little cheaper than a wool/silk blend and has blocked very well. The whole skein was continuous so I didn’t have to deal with a single yarn joint. What I do not like: it lacks the sheen and smoothness of real silk and doesn’t feel as strong, although it doesn’t shed. In conclusion, I’d rather use a traditional Shetland 1-ply or another natural fibre yarn.

It's also worth mentioning that whilst I prefer to support small businesses, it was disappointing to have received a 93-gram skein when I had ordered 100 grams. It was one of those days between Christmas and the New Year and I somehow did not contact the customer service, but I really should have.

Needle

2.5mm 80cm circular needles. See modification below.

Modification

This Japanese knitting book follows Japanese sizing for knitting needles. The suggested size was no. 1=2.4mm. I figured that I could use a 2.5mm since I knitted on the tighter side, and in any case it was probably okay to make the lacework a little more open by going up a needle size.

I am not going to give out the pattern, but it is probably necessary to explain the structure of this shawl. The centre is knitted first, and then an edging is knitted onto it by picking up either live stitches or the vertical edge of the centre as you go (see schematic below). The four ‘corners’ of the edging have short-row shaping to help it lay flat. I know that traditionally people can achieve this by other methods, but I haven’t tried any of those yet.

I enlarged the pattern by increasing both the width and the length. I casted on 133 stitches instead of 101 for the centre panel and knitted Part B 8.5 times instead of 5.5. The spider web pattern in Part B requires the stitch count to be (something dividable by four) plus two, so I made one central increase before the spider web to get 134 and a central decrease after it to get it back to 133. Due to the openness of the lace, the change of one stitch is not visible.

The enlargement meant I had to recalculate the edging as well, because the number of stitches available for pick-up changed. Originally, at each corner you do two repeats with four short-row shaping each. I did 1.5 repeats following the original placement of short-row shaping in order to make the total number of repeats fit the number of edge stitches on the centre panel.

The pattern says to Kitchener-stitch the last row of the edging to the provisional cast-on. It just didn’t make sense because that would be two rows too much (the Kitchener stitch row plus the provisional cast-on row). To make the number perfectly fit, I knitted only ten rows of the last repeat (there were usually twelve in each repeat). Then I Kitchener-stitched the end to the provisional cast-on, following the lace pattern. I am quite proud of this solution because it is completely invisible.

Somewhere in the pattern it said to purl (looking from the right side). It seemed strange because the rest of the lace was entirely garter. I knitted those stitches and so far I haven’t sensed a ‘mistake’.

The pattern originally calls for 45 grams of yarn. I estimated (based on the increase of stitches in the centre panel) to need about 80 grams. I ended up using 86 grams. Besides the inaccuracies in my estimation, it was probably also because I knitted much more loosely than expected as it was difficult to tension the yarn tightly at such a weight. Like I've point out in the Yarn section above, I was lucky not to have needed more than 93 grams.

The original finished size is 53*118cm. I ended up with approximately 70*170cm.

Conclusion

This shawl took about three months of my craft time i.e. one full day every week for three months and many mornings before I had to leave for university. Knitting outside my room just didn’t work because I was a) engaged in some other activities that made it difficult to steady my hands, and b) worried about putting a white shawl on any public surface.

The pattern itself is relatively straightforward. The first difficulty was, of course, to understand the instruction written in Japanese. Google translate was horrible so I had to rely on my knitting experience. Fortunately, much of the text description was also found in graphs and charts. Then I had to get my hands used to the tiny yarn. After that, it was only fiddly when I did the edging, because I had to turn about every twelve stitches, and by that time I was handling a giant cloud of stitches on my lap. It did give me a lot of time to go over my favourite documentaries and films, and the last bit of edging was surprisingly quick!

Traditionally, Shetland shawls could be sent back to the maker for maintenance. I think it only fair for me to offer that too because I don’t want a gift to become a trouble (same as how you do not use non-machine-washable yarn for baby knits).

In general, I am very pleased with this shawl. It does pass the ring test, despite not being a traditional wedding shawl size or thickness. I do have a whole lot of actual Shetland 1-ply in my stash, so I am really looking forward to taking my Queen Ring Shawl project out of hibernation in the near future.

Reference list for Introduction

Christiansen, Carol. Shetland fine lace knitting: Recreating patterns from the past. Marlborough: Crowood, 2024.

Mann, Joanna. 'Knitting the Archive: Shetland Lace and Ecologies of Skilled Practice'. Cultural Geographies 25, no. 1 (January 28, 2017): 91–106. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474016688911.

[wakandama2]

I wanna Black Carrie-inspired movie, real rep for us stuck in a white country town Black girls. So, walk wit me real quick-

Locational Background: We still set in the late 70's. Set in multiple rural towns, the main town being Chamberlain, Missouri when the meat of the story takes place. We are firmly in the upper south/Midwest tho.

Our Carrie inspired MC is named Alanna(will be relevant and fucked up later)

Alanna's Mama, Evette, is a Black white passing woman and was the daughter of the town's Black tailor and his wife a music teacher and a righteous choir leader for the Black church who was known for a 'voice of power' that was known to shake the church foundations and make people run around the building in glory.

This gift is passive in Evette leaving her with just a beautiful singing voice. Evette's voice and virtuous image and ways draws the attention of a traveling white Evangelistic-leaning cult leader, Alan Hobbs (he's kinda Jim Jones esc) who whisked her off to join his 'missionary' in order to travel around the country to warn of the rapture and demand repentance of sinners.

He unofficially marries her and gets her pregnant and when Alanna comes out looking very visibly Black, he tries to kill her as a baby because he would expose him as being 'sinful'. Alanna's gift activates through her cries and controls Evette's body and makes her stop Alan from killing their baby. Evette screams in despair and her own gift kills him. Evette's feverish (and kinda delusional) faith of what Alan taught her is the only thing that keeps her together when she has to hide his murder and head back to Chamberlain, taking care of Alanna the whole way.

When Evette gets back to her hometown and relays the story to her mother in distress. Her mother is relieved and reveals that the women in their family having Powerful Voices is a gift from their greatest grandmother as she had been blessed to use it to protect her daughters and sisters during slavery. She also confirms to Evette that Alanna's voice has the potential for Powers Grander than the last four generations of women.

Evette skews this information with the teachings of "women's sinful nature" that Alan had taught her and concluded that the gift is actual evil and a curse of sin. She convinces herself that Alanna is the sign of the devil's return and it's her job to quell her.

Evette cuts herself off from her family (especially her maternal side) and runs away to raise Alanna by herself in Chamberlain, pretending that Alanna is actually her niece and taking a public vow of silence (both for her faith and her misplaced guilt for killing Alan) She uses the tailoring skills her father taught her to work as a laundress and commission dress maker for the local tailor.

Between baby to 15 years old for Alanna, It's very much like the movies, Evette being incredibly strict and abusive in teaching Alanna that simply being a woman, was being sinful and to bundle down her emotions because having a temper or tone, to be anything other than submissive and quiet was just as sinful as womanhood. This lesson was particularly to stop Alanna from activating her powers again. There is an additional impact of insecurity she puts into Alanna with her looking Black and being one of the very few colored girls in the town.

Like Carrie, our poor Alanna gets her period for the first time during gym and none of her classmates, besides her only friend an equally shy Creek girl named Talia, are kind to her about it. Her distress makes the showers freak out and ground shake Talia is the only one that calms Alanna enough for the gym teacher to intervene and actually be of use. The gym teacher calls Evette to the school to get Alanna and explain menstruation to her.

After explaining how menstruation is all Eve's fault to Alanna, Evette has her take a cold bath and to read the story of Adam and Eve over and over again. During her bath time as she reads, rage fills Alanna as she gathers feelings that the biting of the apple and getting kicked out of Eden was a trick done on Eve, not her being sinful and selfish. This jolts her powers and with an angry whisper about how wicked the snake was, Alanna suddenly heats the bath water to a temperature that helps with her cramps and is intrigued.

Cue her being excused to the library that entire week. When Talia sneaks out to join her one day she relays all her questions and findings to Talia. Talia confirms that yes, it is NOT normal to heat water or cause quakes with her voice. Period of not. Talia explains how she was an early bloomer like her mother and grandmother and inspires Alanna to look into her mother's side to get explanations.

Now cue Alanna and Talia hijinks as they secretly research and test Alanna's powers for the rest of the week and weekend. Alanna finds all the letters her grandmother had set to Evette trying to convince her that their gift is a good thing and that she is a good woman. Reveling the deep history and various ways the powers of their voice can manifest. Alanna actually contacts her grandmother (call or letters idk what was more efficient for the 70s lol)

During all of this, the other girls are still hazing Alanna (and y'know being both macro and micro racist in their bullying). This comes to a head that next week where the prank they do gets Alanna nearly drowned during swim day.

This causes rage to rear up in Evette that she hadn't felt in years and she lays into the principal and gym teacher to actually give the girls repercussion for their actions. Leading to the three ringleaders to get suspended for a week and banned from prom that following week. They also have to write an essay about kindness.

One of the girls (uh, let's call her Cynthia) actually learns that damn, I was being a mean racist bitch for no damn reason, this girl hasn't done anything to me to warrant this treatment. She becomes cordial with Talia, then works with her Football Captain brother to put Alanna on the radar of the Black boy, Adam, and help him to woo Alanna.

At the same time this outburst of herself and near reemergence of her powers scares Evette and she confronts Alanna to see if it was actually her daughter's powers that caused it (just like at her birth). Alanna says no it was Evette's own and this causes her mother to break down and force a confession from Alanna that yes, she knows about their gift of a Powerful Voice and had been writing letters/calling her grandmother for information.

The two get into basically a battle of Powerful Voice in the argument, nearly causing a damn tornado to hit the town. Alanna proves that she has the greater voice just like her grandmother predicted (also because Alanna has been practicing). This puts her mother into submission and Alanna starts to demand and affirm more kindness (or at least being left tf alone) from her mother.

That whole week of suspension, Alanna is smitten from the soft wooing from Adam and coaxing of Talia and Cynthia for her to accept his prom proposal. While all this happens, the other ringleader (Uh, Susan!) is planning to do the whole public humiliation thing and to have her equally loser boyfriend slash Adam's tires and ruin his battery so Alanna can't get away afterwards.

Alanna grows into her powers, Evette grows more paranoid and passive aggressive. Constantly pestering Alanna that this was a test of the devil. Alanna talks to her about how much she's been hurt by her and for her to confront who hurt her before she loses her daughter. Alanna continues prepping for prom with Talia and her mother's help instead. Alanna gives her mother one more chance to be happy or show support to her daughter. Evette blows it (They are all gonna laugh at you!)

Prom... Happens. Y'all know the drill. Cynthia learns about the prank, tries to get to prom in time. Susan and her dickhead BF scare her by threatening to lie to her father that she's been hooking up with Adam putting both their lives in danger. Alanna is living it up at Prom with Adam and Talia. Cynthia is able to risk it and get Talia's attention to try and earn her, however they end up getting locked out and harassed by the dickhead boyfriend's greasy ass buddies and have to lock into Adam's car for safety.

Pig Blood (or maybe motor oil and chicken feathers) happens, Adam is KNOCKED UNCONSCIOUS ( bad gash and concussion fosure) by the bucket falling, racist bs happen.

Alanna clutches Adam close as everyone hollars and taunts her. The school official barely doing anything to try and quell them or laughing along. The few other students of color use their sense of danger to either get the fuck outta there or try to help Alanna and Adam.

Alanna whispers them all to sleep. Prays for protection and calm for them.

Then. She. Screams.

I want FIRE, SCALDING SPRINKLERS, MFUKAS BEING CRUSHES SLAMMED AND CHOKED.

BLACK GIRL MUTHAFUCKIN RAGE TO RIP THEM ALL APART AND RUBBLE THE BUILDING THAT HOUSED ALL THAT HATE

Talia and Cynthia witness it all. The guys that were cornering them are fucking smite by one loud sigh coming from Alanna's mouth when she spots them. Alanna takes in the chaos and can only nod and start walking home, locking her friends into the car for safety.

Say what y'all want about 2013 Carrie, that car wreck scene? Happen exactly to Susan and Dickhead BF when they try to run Alanna over.

Alanna gets home to find Evette crying over the letters from her own mother. The phone has been shattered into pieces and Alanna breaks down and tells Evette everything.

Evette comforts Alanna, true comfort, for the first time in a decade. Bathing, dressing, cleaning and greasing Alanna's scalp as she sings delicate lullabies to her. She makes hot coca and wraps Allan up in a family quilt, reciting the story of Mary and the birth of Jesus to her in a cozy whisper.

As this happens the rescuers are only able to dig out Adam and the few others that tried to help Alanna, out the rubble whole and alive. They break Talia and Cynthia out of the car and the two girls run to Alanna's house. They are barely a block away then the earth rips open and screams. Quake after quake as a twister roars over them and heat snaps into the air, forcing them to huddle into a ditch as God gets angry.

Cars suddenly come to life and speed down the road to crash into the Hobbs' household.

7 minutes later. All is calm. Just a regular spring night, the only thing left is chaotic debris and soft wind.

All that's left of Evette within the mangled and smoldering remains of her home is her charred corpse clutching a pristine crucifix and the ribboned ends of Alanna's braids. The MD determined that the support beam tore through her chest and killed her first before the fire got to her. That the fire is what left just ash and braids of Alanna.

"Good. That Black Devil is banished back to hell." Is what the white pastors and the police chief says.

"My she burn and my child rest." Says parents that don't realize they raised nothing but viscous bullies.

"My friend is gone and I don't blame her for the mess it left behind. But...now I gotta go." Is what Talia tells Cynthia as she and her family flee the town just three days after it all.

Adam is sent to Chicago with his first broken heart.

But little do any know, about the green pickup that flew down the dirt roads, back to a lazy and quiet rural town that Alanna never got a chance to remember before.

Her Grandmother strokes her hair as she drives and tells the mute and shaking girl the story about the slave mother who would rather her baby be dead and free then living and in chains.

[pardalote]

pardalote's top 20 makes for 2023, entry eight.

Pin loom weaving! I bought a little 4" pin loom from a local farm/maker and got busy using up lots of my yarn stash. It was so much fun! I made cushions for our couch, and as gifts. Seeing the yarn work up into cloth was pure magic.

[littlehouseontheaerie]

My local buy nothing group had the holiday exchange bazaar today and I always try to go even though most of my stuff doesn't end up going.

I was loaning a neighbor my pasta maker, so I had a good reason to go anyway. I ended up coming home with two sweaters because I wanted to try cream colors, a new face mask, and three cookie stamps. The neighbor who is slowly getting rid of her glass tupperware that matches our set was also there.

It just made me think - I love this sort of community. There were a metric ton of kids toys (and kids who were playing with them before making choices). Someone brought their wedding dress to give away. Some brought purses and books, one guy brought two fishing rods, and another was renovating their house and brought fixtures and fans that they didn't need.

And I'd much rather live in this world. Where I know this community, and we gift from our own excess, and the stuff that's not needed finds new homes.

[wistfulcynic]

the inn is a metaphor

They are terrible at running an inn. 

In the beginning. 

They don’t know the first goddamn thing about the hospitality industry. Or carpentry, plumbing, invoicing, logistics. Anything, really. They know nothing. 

They learn. 

There’s a lot of trial, even more error. But by the first time the Revenge returns for a visit they have something. A roof that doesn’t leak. Un-rotted floorboards. Nooks and crannies free from feral beasts of any kind. Zero spiders. Twin armchairs in front of the fire and a bed just big enough for the two of them. It’s a start. 

The Revenge comes bearing gifts. Wee John has knitted them some afghans and Frenchie sewed an enormous quilt, which takes pride of place on the bed. They’ve towed in another ship as well, a wreck whose timber they all pitch in to rebuild into an extension and some outbuildings. Roach helps them plant a kitchen garden and a medicinal one. 

Jackie gives them business advice and contacts for her old suppliers. Lucius has a guestbook for them, with marginalia he drew himself. Some of it at least is appropriate for guests to see. The rest…

“Are you planning to have guests who’ll faint at the sight of a cock?” Lucius inquires innocently. “Because I’ll be honest with you, that seems unlikely.” 

The idea of guests of any kind is still a long way off, but they’re getting there. They can envision it now, and not just as a wild fantasy they spin each other at night as they lie entwined with sweat cooling on their skin. They have actual plans, concrete ones, and a decent understanding of how to realise them. 

They get to work. 

Jackie’s contacts prove invaluable. Soon they have a liquor supplier, deals with local butchers, bakers, candlestick-makers, and even a reliable fisherman to give them first dibs on his haul. 

(It’s not Pop-Pop.) 

A few survivors of Zheng’s old crew hire on as housekeeping and kitchen staff. The soup is phenomenal. Ed learns how to make it and how to cook a fish without burning it. They have fresh-smelling towels, expertly folded. They have guest rooms, and soon they have guests. 

It’s an adjustment, having new people in their space. Some of the guests are gawkers, eager for a piece of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate. They reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, namely those particular assholes. But other guests are much more pleasant. Locals looking for a bit of a mini-break, people from nearby islands wanting a getaway, even the occasional European who doesn’t know who they are. 

The guests are mostly happy with their stay. There’s excellent soup and decent fish, fresh linens and great views. The walls could be a bit thicker, perhaps, for everyone’s comfort, but the hosts are always most apologetic in the morning and offer copious marmalade in exchange for good reviews. 

The Revenge returns frequently, each time with some new trinkets and finery for their former co-captains. In exchange, they host bonfires on the beach with music and dancing and wine, until they all fall asleep together in a pile, so like the old days on the ship that Stede watches them in the soft light of the embers with tears in his eyes. 

“All right, love?” Ed asks him. He slips an arm around Stede’s waist. Stede tugs him in until Ed’s head is nestled against his shoulder. He strokes Ed’s hair. Ed sighs and snuggles closer. 

“I’m all right,” Stede says. “A bit nostalgic is all.” 

“You miss it.” 

“I miss the crew. I wish they could visit more often. I suppose I miss the sea, though of course it’s right there in front of us. But I’m happy, Ed. I have no regrets.” 

“Really?” The whisper of doubt in Ed’s voice has Stede pulling back to look down at his dear face. 

“Yes really! Do you doubt it?” 

“Kind of.” Ed shrugs. “It’s easier for me, I think. I was ready to be done with it, Stede. Desperate to do anything else but be Blackbeard. But you—you had just got started. You could be out there now with the crew, pirating away. You could be famous. You could—” 

“Ed Teach, you listen to me.” Stede’s got his Captain Voice on now and the sound of it has Ed’s stomach turning cartwheels, his dick leaping to attention. “I don’t care about any of that. I only wanted to be a pirate for the freedom. To escape my old life. But I have a life now that I would never want to escape. Do you know why?” 

Ed shakes his head. 

“Because I chose it. I chose you. I love you and I would be happy anywhere you were.” He cups Ed’s cheek in his palm and kisses his forehead, his nose, his lips. Ed moans and presses closer but Stede pulls back, just far enough to whisper, “You make Stede happy.” 

They spend that night alone in the inn, no guests, far enough from the beach that when they serve breakfast to the crew the next morning not a single smirk or smart remark is sent their way. 

They wave goodbye to their friends that evening and stand together on their porch to watch the ship sail off into the sunset. Stede turns to Ed with a smile. “New guests checking in tomorrow,” he says. “We should probably fix the creak in the door hinge of Room 1.” 

“I’ll do it,” says Ed, “if you polish the candlesticks. Fuckin’ polish makes my nose itch.” 

“Deal,” says Stede. He turns to head inside. “What’ll we have for dinner?” 

“Got a nice turbot we could roast.” 

“Ooh, fab.” 

The inn’s front door closes behind them. 

It’s still a bit rickety, their inn. It’s old, it creaks, it springs leaks from time to time. It’s hard work, keeping it going. But they are devoted to the task. Whatever it takes, they will see their inn thrive. 

It’s what makes them happy. 

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I am IN LOVE with your writing!  I’m a dedicated reader! 💓💓 thanks for taking the time to do it!

Hear me out. Reader pulls a 24 hour shift in the local clinic on a busy day and we get a protective worried din?

He would also be busy but he would definitely pull reader out and make her take a nap AT LEAST. 😂 anyway, I just thought that would be cute to think about.

I hope you have a wonderful day and keep up the good work! 

[a/n: anybody wanna guess how many times it took me to try and post this b/c tumblr wanted to keep glitching and destroying it?? FUCKING FOUR. lord, im gonna go scream in a pillow. anyways, thanks anon for the great idea! also pls consider this my apology for the cliffhanger that i am so sorry (but not really) for.]

'A FRESH START' DELETED SCENE

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: reader overworks herself, mentions of injuries (burns specifically) but not in great detail

Word Count: 1,934

Summary: Everyone needs a break, and Din is hell bent on ensuring you don't skip yours.

#MID 17: TAKE A BREAK, DOC

[so not between chapters, but a scene within one of the time breaks in chapter 17.]

.

"be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that's you." -unknown

.

Trying to get the emergency clinic established was not easy. You agreed to the job, and Karga had given you free reign. The High Magistrate was essentially allowing you to run the clinic as you saw fit. Which in part was fantastic because it gave you incredible freedom, but it was also your worst nightmare. All your training had taught you was how to handle the medical aspect of an office. The business and organization side was a whole other issue. Especially because the people of Nevarro were not understanding that this was for emergencies only. 

“My ankle hurts.”

“Alright, when did this start? When did you get hurt?”

“I twisted it while jogging three years ago.”

“You⏤ Wait, what?”

In order for this to work the way it needed to, you’d have to focus on actual emergencies only. Alone you would never be able to handle the patient load that would come with servicing an entire city. Plus, you really didn’t want to. The amount of time it would take to even attempt that was insane, and Din needed your help with Grogu.

So, the plan would be to establish that this clinic was emergencies only, emphasize it to everyone who walked in the door, but for today you’d manage all the small, routine problems.

Just for today.

By lunch time, you had already seen 47 patients. None of which were emergent. In fact, the biggest injury was a young man who had dropped a glass plate at home and accidentally cut his hand. He needed four stitches. 

“Aayla?”

“Four more in the waiting room, doctor!” Aayla called out without even having to be asked the question. She was a gift from the Maker today. Already, you had decided to try training her more in depth medically and hire someone else to work the front desk. “You also have a guest.

“What?” You breathed, barely able to catch her words.

Aayla didn’t need to repeat herself because that was the moment Din swept into the room with the same confident strut he naturally seemed to have. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as your lips curled up into a smile.

“What is going on?” Din asked as he drifted closer to you. There were still two patients sitting on cots waiting for you to finish with them, but Din commandeered your attention by settling his hand on your lower back and staring down at you. Even through the helmet you could feel his concerned gaze. “Why are you so busy? I thought you were hired for emergencies only.”

“I was, but apparently nobody told all of Nevarro that.”

Din stiffened. “Did Karga⏤”

“No. I don’t think he tricked me into this or that this was on purpose.” You said quickly. “And everyone who comes in, I’m telling them that from now on it’s emergencies only.”

“But today?”

“Today, I am seeing every Nevarro citizen.” You chuckled. “You want a check up, Mando?”

“Ner kar’ta,” Din shook his head, “Have you taken any breaks at all?” You shot him a sheepish smile. “Come. Let’s get lunch.”

“I can’t. I’ll just get further behind.” You mumbled. Din looked like he was ready to argue with you. In fact, his hands even drifted to his hips as his head tilted. You had seen him take on the same stance before lecturing Grogu. You wrapped your hands around his forearm and gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I’m bailing on you for lunch.” He sighed. “You poor thing, now you’ll have to spend more time with Mayfeld.”

Din huffed and you chuckled. Aayla called out that more people were filling the space, and for a second you thought the Mandalorian Marshal was considering sending everybody home just so you could have a moment for lunch. You squeezed his forearm. 

“Fine.” Din grumbled.

“Also, I know this won’t help my argument or convince you of anything, but,” You scrunched your nose with a small wince, “Do you think you can pick up Grogu today?”

Din seemed taken aback based on his voice alone, “How long do you plan on staying?”

You knew his question was one more focused on the concern of you staying here for too long versus him being upset that you couldn’t get Grogu. When you shot him another sheepish smile he just grumbled under his breath in Mando’a. Din caught you off guard by leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead against yours for a second. 

“This conversation isn’t over.” Din said simply and you just chuckled in response.

He squeezed your hand once before leaving and you were forced to return to the patients you had. Ten minutes passed at the most, you got two patients out with Aayla’s help, when Din’s heavy footfalls returned. You glanced over your shoulder to see he was holding a bag of food. He crossed the space to set the bag in your hands and you peered in to see it was your favorite sandwich from the local shop. Your eyes glanced back up at him with a grin. The warmth of being seen and known settling in your chest.

“Eat.” Din said firmly.

“Thank you.” You replied. “I’ll eat it as soon as⏤”

“No.” He interrupted. A tilt to his head and a challenge in his voice. “I’m not leaving until I watch you take a few bites. At the least.”

You rolled your eyes, in good nature, and handed him the bag so you could wash your hands in the sink off to the side. On your way back to Din, you asked Aayla to bandage one patient’s knee and get imaging of another patient’s hand. Din had already pulled out your sandwich to set on the desk you had brought into the corner. Before you could reach for it, Din pointed to the desk chair. With a chuckle you dropped down into the seat, the first time you were off your feet all morning, and only then did Din push the sandwich toward you. 

“Thanks.” You said after your first bite. More sincere than your last. Din was leaning against the desk beside you. Close enough that your arm could press against his thigh if you moved it over even an inch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Apparently, I did.” Din chuckled. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

You couldn't argue. Instead, you just shook your head, “Not gonna lie, I always did have a bad habit of getting caught up in my work.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Doctor, can you take a look at this?” Aayla called out.

You quickly took one last, large bite of your sandwich before standing. Din pushed off the desk to tower over you again. He nodded. “I’ll pick up Grogu, but if you’re not home by 5 I’m coming back to drag you home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You teased.

Din leaned over to lightly tap his forehead against yours and you chuckled. He reached over to pick up your sandwich and held it up towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over and took another bite. Holding a hand over your mouth, tucking the food into your cheek, you spoke. “Happy?”

“Yes. Be careful. Message me if you need anything.”

You watched him leave with a bemused smile.

Never before had you been so acutely aware of the saying ‘when it rains, it pours’. Today had already been stressful and busy so it would make sense that at 4:25 in the afternoon an actual emergency rolled in. Nothing to test and stretch your skills like having to handle a trauma case after a full day of working. There had been an incident, on the other side of this world deep in the lava plains, where a group of smugglers got a bit too close to a river of lava with their weapons and nearly blew one another sky high. 

The least injured of the three had flown them in. She had some superficial burns all along her left side. Then the other two had third degree burns that required some serious fluid replacement. You didn’t stop working, barely paused to take a breath, until all three were stable and resting comfortably. Only then did you drop down into your desk’s chair and rest your head on your arms with a sigh. 

About twenty minutes later, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders, squeezing in comfort, and you would’ve been startled if you didn’t recognize the creak of Din’s leather with the comforting smell of his flight suit’s detergent and the polish used on his beskar. 

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“8:42.”

“You’re nearly four hours late.”

Din squeezed your shoulders once more before letting a hand settle on the back of your neck. You found the weight of it grounded you. “I got here at 4:50. Saw you were busy with something important. Left then came back.” His thumb caressed your skin, and you pushed your head up to glance at him. Din had the hand not on your neck resting on the desk. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” You mumbled and rubbed your face with one hand. “Grogu?”

“He’s with Peli. Missed you at dinner though.” Din replied. “He acts up when you’re not around.”

“No, no. He’s a perfect angel, always.”

Din snorted at that, and the sound made you chuckle. You glanced over at the cots that held the three smugglers who slept soundly. All their vitals still stable. Din’s hand slipped down to rub your upper back soothingly. “You coming home?”

“I can’t. Not until the emergency shuttle gets here to pick those three up.” You sighed. “They have to be at a facility with a higher level of care than just me.”

“‘Just you’ saved their lives.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrugged. “You should go though.” Din tilted his head. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the ship to get here. I already sent Aayla home. I’m just babysitting right now. You should pick up Grogu and head home. Get some sleep.”

Din shook his head as if it were the stupidest thing you had ever said. He gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and pulled you up from your seat. You let him drag you along to the fourth cot in the room which was currently empty. “You sleep. I’ll babysit.” 

“Din…”

He lightly pushed down on your shoulders until you were seated on the cot. You stared up at him in question, but he just shook his head. “If something changes with their status I’ll wake you.” Din pushed you down a little further so you were laying down. The moment your body hit the relatively soft bed you felt yourself sink into it with exhaustion. Din went to walk, but you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the cot as well.

“You can babysit while laying down, can’t you?”

“My armor isn’t gonna be much of a pillow.”

“Neither is this cot.”

Din chuckled and dropped down to lay beside you. You rested your head on his chest, the cool metal of the beskar biting into your warm cheek, and just sighed. It hadn’t occurred to you how tired you truly were until now. Din had an arm wrapped around you so he could grasp your shoulder with his hand and use his thumb to trace patterns there.

“Take a break, doc.” Din hummed. “I got you.”

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @alphaash99 @djarinsmixtape @pcrushinnerd @closedaddition @thelovelyhann @harrys-sunflower-bakery @mayaaaaah @theway-thisis

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Where do you find all your neat little trinkets and such? Is it just accumulated over the years, or do you use marketplace, or antique malls, commissioning stuff? I want to add more to my home, but I don't really know where to look outside of hyper specific ebay searches.

I guess, more succinctly, how do you Find Things?

Heya! Finding cool stuff is a lot about doing just enough research. I'll show you how my mind works.

Let's say I saw this cute cat in the wild. I want to buy it, maybe see if it's something fun to collect.

If I use Google lens on the photo, I get some promising results - this is something that was mass-produced!

Let's click on a result.

I've learned something! This ceramic is called "redware" and the figure is from the 1950s. So, off to another web search.

Oh! A maker name! "Shafford." This will make future searches easier. And look - there are other related cats - it looks like as various household items! (If you further researched the original cat, you'd also learn it is a tape measure and was made in Japan.)

Now, let's say you don't have a photo to start with, or just a vague idea of something you might want. Let's hop to Facebook marketplace and see if anyone is selling cute ceramic black cats.

All of these results could go down their own research paths, but again, I'm using the example of the Shafford cats.

Armed with some knowledge, it takes just a few searches to find an impressive haul. Honestly, if that wasn't 5 hrs away from me, I'd buy that lot in a heartbeat, selling/gifting what I don't want.

For future searches, you now have two paths:

Search for things using basic terminology to find sellers who aren't super knowledgeable. So, something like "vintage kitchen cabinet". You might luck out and find a seller who just wants the thing gone, they don't know its value, and it might be a steal for you!

Search again using the specific terms you have picked up from your research. So, "jelly cabinet." This will get you in front of listing from experts, where you are likely to find a better quality item at the current market price.

That is how I found this for my kitchen, btw.

Learn the common synonyms and mispellings. Bookcase, bookshelf. Captain's desk, secretary desk.

Click on seller stores and profiles to see related items. As you research, you will start to stumble across other items and figure out your sense of taste. You will find cool shit you never knew existed. You will learn new search terms as you pick up bits of history. You will also start stumbling across online speciality sites, or local resources, like antique shops and vintage fairs. You might learn what estate sales are, or about auctions open to the public. You start developing a habit of scouting out shops and sales when you're in a new town. You put big fairs and small swap meets on your calendar. You build relationships with contemporary artists who make things you like.

My sense of style is something I've actively been refining for decades now, and it isn't just vintage tchotchkes. I do this for clothing, for the crafting I'm into, etc. Curiosity and style go hand in hand and the best part is that your eye and research chops will only improve, even if you're just window shopping.

I hope this helps!

[ghuleh-recs]

It was our beloved Bee's (@da-rulah) birthday yesterday! To celebrate I've made us all a mixtape of some of her greatest hits... which ended up being almost everything she's written. Whoops. The only reason I left anything out was to save some for next year! Bee is such a kind, lovely, generous, TALENTED soul and I'm so very lucky to have befriended her. So go forth and read some top tier papa (and Mary!) smut. Leave Bee some comments while you're at it—as a lil' bday gift. ♡

recs under the cut.

Rituale Septem - Terzo (and everyone else) x Reader - 74k

Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings… But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work…

Rubenesque - Secondo x Plus Size!Reader - 7.8k

Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same. So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself?

A Personal Ritual - Copia x Reader - 2.1k

"With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.   You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even… It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate."

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x Reader - 72k (WIP)

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

In Cold Blood - Terzo x Reader - 19.4k

Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x Reader - 22k

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having…

Learn the Ropes - Secondo x Reader - 2.4k

Secondo likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But you'd always wondered what he might do if one day, you decided to flip the script, and take charge for him…

Copia gets Bullied - Copia x Reader - 2.2k

"I know this trope for Cardinal Copia is over done but I would love, love your take on it. I would like a sister of sin who Copia have had a crush on, come and comfort him after witnessing him getting bullied and embarrassed. But the poor Cardinal is an emotional crying wreck that the sister decide the only way to comfort him is by being sexual with him for the first time🙈"

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[humongouspeachinternet]

Little siren part 3!

Tw: a little blood! Maybe some mild violence?

With news of her existence swarming the city you live in after your harrowing rescue from the water, the little siren lays at the bottom of the pond, unmoving even as playful fish tried to nudge her to get her up. It had been days and days of endless voices overlapping each other on the shore of her pond, chattering away about some ‘monster’ lurking in the depths of the water.

Was she really a monster? Words hurt, you know!

Knowing that she was more than likely never going to see you again, she didn’t really feel that there was a point to doing much nowadays. Sure, shiny things were being dropped into her pond on a daily basis now, wriggling worms typically hooked to the end of them, but what was the point of collecting them if she had no one to give them to?

Wiping at her eyes, golden tears dissipate into the water around her, wondering what she’d do with herself now. It took a while, but eventually, the shiny objects began to disappear as the sun began to set, fishermen hoping to catch the creature packing up for the day. The reporters had left hours ago and also had most of the nosy locals if the lack of voices was anything to go by. Looking up toward the surface, a quiet whine slips from her, unsure if anything would ever feel the same again now that your glowing presence was missing from her pond.

It would take you weeks to regain the courage to go anywhere near the pond after nearly meeting your maker in a freak accident. The creature from before was most definitely real, having been given an incredibly dramatic retelling by your friend who helped get you home afterwards.

It was a blue creature covered in luminous scales with eyes that resembled huge black marbles and sharp teeth that looked as if they could rip a small canoe in half if the thing wanted to. It had a long bifurcated tail, so it obviously wasn’t human, but it was nearly as long as you were tall. Not a fish, not a human, but a strange transition between the two.

As scary as the description may have sounded… why would such a nightmarish-sounding creature save you instead of pulling you to your watery demise? It had to be the same creature that you’d startled away before, right? And to think the poor thing was threatened with a rock for pulling you from the water?

After lightly scolding your friend for her threats against your savior a few weeks later and sending her home, you couldn’t get your mind off of the little siren. Sure, she’d been a little bit frightening, but she surely didn’t mean to scare you.

Should you perhaps go and try to apologize to it? Bring it something as a token of your appreciation? You halfway remembered it crying in relief as it brought you ashore and saw you breathing, surely you could spare something as a gift for it caring so much.

By the time you made up your mind, the sun was already beginning to set, but your pace was leisurely, trying not to draw any extra attention to the little pond. It had been plastered all over the news as of late, rewards being put up for catching the blue, blurry creature that someone had hastily snapped a picture of during your rescue. It seemed cruel to hunt something that was just trying to help.

Clutching a little paper box in your hands, you hoped that the creature liked sourdough and turkey, figuring that bringing it a bit of food may ease its mind a little. With all the attention and fishing going on, it must have been hard for it to catch anything for itself the last few weeks. Guilt churned your stomach at the thought. This poor thing, could you-

You wouldn’t get to finish your thought, however, as a shrill shriek filled the shadows of the little park surrounding the pond. It was incredibly high-pitched and squeaky, sounding nothing like a human cry, but then again… there could be an awful explanation for that.

Unfortunately, while she was trying her best to ignore the lonely life she led, the little siren had somehow gotten hooked by the last fisherman of the day. His hook had been trawling the waters and just so happened to catch onto her gills. She thought nothing of the feeling at first, figuring that it was just another fish trying to unearth her from the sand on the bottom of the pond, having not moved in about a week or so. As the tugging grew harder, however, and began pulling her up towards the surface rather quickly, she knew that something was wrong.

With how the past couple of weeks had been going, she almost decided to let herself get dragged up to the surface, but found that she’d rather not become someone’s meal, pulling back against the line. However, the week or so of little to no food had done quite a number on her strength, the siren cursing herself for letting it get this bad as the strong fisherman continued the fight. With the hook lodged firmly in her gills, the pain wasn’t helping her to fight at all either, fighting a losing battle it seemed.

Eventually, the fisherman won, reeling her up to the surface just for her to hang painfully by her gills over the water for a few moments, causing the pained shriek that you’d heard. Gravity really wasn’t her friend in this moment, her body wriggling one way but her gills being pulled the opposite way, blue blood seeping out from around the hook as the man began to pull her to the shore.

You had broken into a sprint towards the pond upon hearing the cry, the sandwich being tossed around quite viciously in its box as you ran to find the creature. Had someone else found it before you? Was it hurt? A cold rush overtook you at the thought of your savior in pain, chopped up for some measly reward money. Was the cash really worth killing an innocent creature?

You’d soon stumble upon the dock where this whole mess started, but find that the pained whimpers were coming from a little further in the brush to your right. It definitely sounded like the creature, but a man’s triumphant laugh echoed out after the noises.

You quietly made your way closer to the sources of the noise, soon finding a tall man with a weighed down fishing pole. On the end of it was the creature from before, now much skinnier and weaker than you remember. You were very much right to bring food it seemed. The man had tugged it… or rather, her, onto the sand, ignoring the way she panted for breath, her gills straining from the lack of water. Pulling out his phone instead, he stood over her, nudging her a little with his boot as he spoke to someone excitedly, very much wanting the prize money he was promised for such a catch. You watched the man kneel down beside the creature, your blood boiling as he tugged on the hook in her neck just to make her cry out again as if she wasn’t already suffering enough.

The man’s mistake, however, came as he stood laughing and turned to go pack up, leaving the backs of his ankles just in reach of a certain fanged creature who wasn’t done quite yet. Within a moment, the man was on the ground, confused for a second before a searing pain shot up both of his legs. You gasp as you watch it all unfold, his Achilles’ tendons easily taken out by the scrawny little creature before she digs her talons into the sand to crawl up and remove a more vital part of him. You turn away and cover your ears as best you can to avoid seeing and hearing what violence she was capable of, but when the muffled noises die down, you find yourself peeking back to see if she was alright.

Covered in her blood and the blood of another, the little siren collapses on the sand a few feet away from the unmoving fisherman, safe but unable to breathe and too weak to pull herself back into the water. What a horrible way to go, she thought, whimpering with her head against the sand. Gold tears pooled in the sand beneath her head, wishing that she’d gotten to see you at least one more time.

Oh.

Wait.

What was that noise?

Sand crunched under quiet feet, trying your best to avoid getting any of the bloody mess on your clothes. The sound alerted her to a presence beside her, but she could hardly pick her head up to see who it was, instead giving a weak warning hiss to try and ward away any more hunters. Surely the blood would deter anyone else from messing with her, right? But as worn out sneakers and faded jeans filled her vision, gentle hands moving to remove the hook from her gills as carefully as possible, she couldn’t find it in her to hiss again, too tired to fight off anyone else. It wasn’t until you began whispering quiet reassurances to her that she recognized just who had come to her aid, quickly pushing herself up in a daze to look at you before falling back into the sand with a whimper.

You came back? For her? Why? You can’t swim, you shouldn’t be anywhere around here, she thought, her hazy brain focusing more on your well-being than her own as she began to close her eyes. The lack of water and the exertion of taking down the man had done her in, her limbs heavy and her head heavier, almost too heavy to feel that she was being pulled back into the water. It wasn’t easy, she was still rather heavy, but with how much weight she’d lost from her weeks of not eating, you were able to slowly get her into the water. You waded in with her until you were about thigh deep, holding her just under the water and waiting on bated breath for her to start coming back to you.

Were you too late? You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you waited for what felt like an eternity for her gills to start moving again, letting out a relieved sigh when a little bit of her color began to return to her face. Was she still bleeding? Yes, but was she at least able to breathe again? Also yes!

The little siren would wake with a start moments later, gasping under the water and immediately meeting your worried eyes, confusion setting in rather quickly. You shouldn’t be in the water, you’ll drown! However… your hands cradling her head were almost enough to distract her from her concern, still as dizzy as can be from the drama of it all. All that would meet your ears was a muffled whimper of worry, black eyes looking up to you and pleading with you to get out of the water. If you didn’t drown, you’d certainly catch a cold… or get that vile man’s blood on you.

Looking down at her, you carefully smoothed a hand over her face, hoping to relax her a bit in the wake of such a scary encounter. The poor thing, what if this happened again and you weren’t around to help the next time? Smoothing her floating hair from her face, you can’t help but worry for her safety in this little pond. People would find out what she’d done and it would be a witch-hunt until they found her, a thought you could hardly bear.

And that, my friends, is how you ended up with a siren living in your bathtub. A guest needs to use the bathroom in your apartment? Sorry! It’s broken (a.k.a occupied by your darling little siren girlfriend)! Landlords were such an easy scapegoat sometimes. It took some getting used to, sleeping on the cold tile beside the tub to be near her, but you found a way to make it comfortable after a while! Now, she was safe and sound, well-fed and taken care of with no worries of hunters coming near her ever again, and you gained a loving companion for life!

[learning-needle-lace]

I went to my first local fiber arts club meeting this week and it was so wonderful! It was a work-a-long meeting so I took my palmette-lotus chain lace and got a good chunk of cordonnet laid.

I met a few other lace makers, mostly tatters, and one lady who does needle lace! She works different types of needle lace than me but offered to let me browse her lace-making book collection at some point.

The club had been gifted a tub of lace-making thread and they let me dig through it and pick out what I wanted. The needle lace maker helped me choose some nice quality threads that should be more well suited to my type of lace making. I am going to have to restrain myself from abandoning my current project to play around with my new goodies lol

Finding an in-person community has been on my to-do list for a very long time. I thought there wouldn't be much of one where I live but it seems like this club is pretty active and like there is a wider spread fiber arts community in my area. I am so excited to get more involved!