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hearta54 · 11 months ago

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Cherry Red Guitar

(Dominic Fike x Reader)

Summary: You're looking for a cherry red electric guitar but walk out the shop with much more than you expected. Singing lead for Lameboyz means getting to know the guitarist...

Word Count: 1 295

Notes: I loved writing this, and want to write more Dom stuff. DON'T BE SHY SEND REQUESTS. ENJOY!

It was one of those Spring days when there was warm, sprightly sunlight - but not too warm so you felt suffocated in your crocheted green sweater - there was also a subtle breeze which bit the air. You loved the way your dark-washed, flared jeans bunched around your beaten converses (Converses look a little better when they've been through it) as you perused the street for the guitar shop. Your eyes scanned across a shop's peeling sign; there was a middle-aged man outside smoking a billowing cigarette and leaning against the creviced brick wall. This would be good.

A bell rang when you crossed the threshold, your eyes flickered to the teeming shelves; you focused on finding a cherry red electric guitar, like the one on your Pinterest board. Feeling a presence behind you, you turned around, slightly vexed at being disturbed. All frustration dissipated when you saw soft brown eyes, grown out brunette curls dyed blonde, and a nose which curved like the crescent moon; his name tag said Dom.

"What you looking for?"

He smiled checking you innocently making your stomach giddy with butterflies. The consistency of his was voice was smooth with a raspy undercurrent; the faded wooden floors underfoot felt like they shifted. Ugh this boy.

"I'm looking for a cherry red electric," you said this coolly trying to not give yourself away.

"Specific huh," he chuckled biting his lip. The flirtatious tension was smothering in the best way possible.

"You sing? Cos my band Lameboyz is looking for a lead."

"Yeah, I do actually."

"Sweet, text me and I'll send you the details so you can come jam," suddenly he took your arm and slid your sweater up revealing your forearm (each inch burned, electrified) Dom wrote his number on your forearm, the lid was trapped between his iridescent teeth. You gazed at him just as he met your eyes. The bell jingled breaking the static.

Dom turned to walk away looking behind his shoulder he said,

"Cya ..."

"Y/n."

"Cya, Y/N."

...

You walk up to a garage and can hear a guitar riffing; whoever the guitarist is, is really talented. Slung comfortably against your back is the cherry red electric Fender Dom found for you yesterday.

Uncertainly you call into the garage; one of the band members opens the door, a boy with long dirty-blonde hair. Dom is perched crouched behind the amp holding a black electric guitar.

"Wow, that was you playing?"

"Why so surprised, girl?"

His response steals your quick wit, avoidantly ducking your head you take out the lyrics Dom texted you.

"Are we all good to start."

The band jams congruently, it feels invigorating to hear the music come to life: The melodies come easily and your shocked by the smoothness and tone of Dom's voice. He's so rock star.

"That was a solid session guys, I'm feeling good about the show next week, this is y/n our new lead singer."

The show. Lameboyz was performing at a small festival next weekend.

You get to know the band members while exchanging gushing compliments about everyone's performances. In your peripheral you spot Dom watching you intently drinking from a cup; rolling your eyes nervously you turn back to your conversation.

When the band members slowly begin to trickle home the sky is dark and starlit... eventually it's just you and Dom left.

Intrigued by a crate of records you thumb through them: The Beatles, Radiohead, Frank Ocean, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Drake's Take Care.

A warm breath hovers over your ear, "you sounded good, y/n."

"Thank y-," a sudden pull of your waist turns you so your facing Dom with your back against the records.

"No need to thank me, I was just saying," he whispers.

Dom is distracted by the dark sky

"You should let me drive you home, it's dark out."

His car is slightly worn and old, but charming nevertheless, the convertible roof is cool.

The ride passes with a quiet Frank Ocean CD playing and mellow conversation speckled with intervals of subtle flirting. ...

As your about to place your phone on your bedside table it buzzes

"Good night, gorgeous."

"Good night, jit," you text back.

That night sleep doesn't come easily; Dom is in every corner of your mind.

The day of Lameboyz set creeps closer and each day you and Dom text more. He hasn't said anything or asked you out; each time hope threatens to rise you push it back down insistently. If I don't hope I can't get hurt... right?

...

The morning of the set reading a text from Dom forces a spectacular smile to stretch across your face.

"Can't wait to see you soon."

Slinging your guitar case over your shoulder you check yourself in the mirror one more time; smoothing your army green cargo skirt and fixing your vintage flared white tank. Realising how hard your smiling you force yourself to stop, I don't want to crease my concealer.

...

Leaning on the bonnet of his car and practicing his guitar licks you see him from afar. A warm heaviness in your stomach scares you,

Seeing you approach, Dom stands up, "hey y/n."

"Hey Dom," your name on his lips only deepens the feelings.

As Dom goes to say something the rest of the band pulls up; with a sigh you both join them. You pretend to ignore the surreptitious, knowing glances between the keyboardist and drummer.

...

You've missed performing and the roaring crowd reminds you why you love to sing. When Dom harmonises with you, you transcend and you are the music.

...

Gathered in Dom's hotel room the band is drinking; you're clinging on to your sobriety but the others are quickly becoming inebriated. They're hilarious, you don't really know someone until you've seen them drunk. Dom hasn't touched a drink, tonight he's seeking clarity... like he's going to make a revelation. When the laughter becomes hushed by lolling heads Dom and you help everyone to their rooms. On the way back Dom and you are hysterical from the drunken antics. You relish the candor of Dom's shining eyes and the easiness of his laughter.

Sitting on the floor of his hotel room you reminisce the performance and the melody of your voices together. Suddenly you have the nerve...

"Do you think you could teach me that guitar lick?"

Dom's face animates, excited to show you.

Cocooning behind you he guides you your fingers along the fret board when they get tangled. Keeping a steady, inconspicuous heart rate is trying.

"Your good at this," he breathes into your ear, the tension breaks your composure.

Dom places the guitar on the side and looks at you with darkened eyes; you hold your breath.

"I meant to say earlier, but I'm so glad we met and I was wondering if I could take you out for this picnic in the hills... there's a field of flowers and..." Dom trails off when he realises your staring at his lips.

Craning his head to reach yours, your lips connect; pushing your bodies closer there's no more space for anything else but right now. Running his hand through your braids Dom's other hand grasps your waist roughly, you've both been wanting for this a long time.

When you both run out of air and detach reluctantly; Dom bites his lips looking at the floor.

"I've been waiting for this."

"Me too."

...

Dom walks you to your hotel room and stays until you fall into a slumber.

You dream of wanting a cherry red guitar and leaving the store with it and a perfect boy's number scrawled on your forearm. It's a dream, but that's exactly how it happened. Thank God for cherry red guitars.

...

THE END

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluffy #one shot #romance #dominic fike #dom fike #rockstar bf #electric guitar #rockstar #band love #dominic fike x reader #x reader #y/n

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lillaydee · 6 days ago

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One More Try

Landlord Joel Miller / Reader

They say a woman is tested when her man has nothing. But a man is tested when he has everything. What happens if you both passed the test, but your partners did not?

WARNINGS:

Unplanned Pregnancy, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), SO MUCH FLUFF, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Reader was pregnant before meeting Joel, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Miscarriage (Not OC), Landlord Joel, No Outbreak AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

---

You kicked the door closed, your hands letting go of the two large suitcases you had been wheeling up the five flights of stairs. You were soaked to the bones from the rain, your sneakered feet sore and squelchy from your very long walk. You took all your clothes off, glad for the warmth radiating from the heater in the small study room you had rented for your doctorate. You opened one of the suitcases, found that some of the clothing was not completely soaked and pulled on some dry ones. Small victories, you thought. You scanned the room, mentally calculating for spaces to hang your wet clothes, hoping some clothes will be dry enough for you to wear the next day.

After some strategic thinking and making do with what you had in the cramped space, you managed to get all the wet clothes hung one way or another. You sat on the single sofa at the corner of the room, feet propped up on the small coffee table the last candidate had kindly left you, wrapped the crocheted blanket around your body, and fell asleep.

A small shake woke you. Your supervisor Professor Frank Anthony’s worried face appeared in front of you. Relieve floods it when you responded. He gave you a bottle of water, and two pills. You are burning up, he says. What the hell happened? You cannot think. You just felt like shit that’s been dumped onto the highway and driven over again and again. When you didn’t answer, Frank searched for his phone, and called someone. You fell back asleep.

When you opened your eyes again, your fellow candidate and best friend Maria was in the room with Frank. Both looking at you like you might spontaneously combust. You felt better than you did, but you knew without a doubt that you still had a temperature. How could you not? You walked almost 10 miles in the rain, dragging two full suitcases behind you, needing the walk to clear your head. What happened? Frank asked again. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness overpowered you, and you broke down.

---

Maria was packing your stuff. You were going back home with her, she said. No, she will not take no for answer. But you couldn’t do that, she lived with her boyfriend in a studio apartment. Frank offered you a room at his house while you looked for a place, but you said you didn’t want to intrude. You were perfectly fine right there. You will finish this doctorate if it’s the last thing you did. You just needed to find a job, and a place to live. You’ll be fine.

You cried in Maria’s lap for hours that day. Frank came up to tell you he had started the process for you to be his research assistant, just so you can start over while you look for other jobs. You only had your dissertation to complete, he said. You could do this. Maria’s phone rang, and after a few minutes of talking, she came back with good news. Her boyfriend’s brother owned a building of short-term rental apartments just outside the university compounds, she said, and one was available for you if you moved in today. The rent was cheap, and it’s close to the university, which was perfect seeing as you no longer had a car.

You were desperate. You had a headache; you wanted to throw up, everything that had happened since yesterday evening was just bubbling up in your chest threatening to come out of your mouth. But this would mean one thing less for you to think about. You quickly agreed.

When Maria drove up to the apartment building, the two of you were greeted by her boyfriend Tommy. He hugged you tight, telling you how sorry he was, and that they will help you get through this. He helped you with your suitcases into the building, up the stairs to the first floor, and into the first door on the right. Apartment 1A. The door was wide open, a man inside with a basket of cleaning supplies and a mop bucket, finishing up on mopping the linoleum floor.

It’s a room. A bathroom immediately across from the door, next to the small built in double door closet, an open floor plan living/sleeping area that housed a queen-sized bed, a love seat and a coffee table, and an eat-in kitchen separated by a collapsible door. It’s a hell of a difference from the posh condo you were just living in yesterday, but at least you will have a roof over your head.

Maria helped you unpack while the other man continued doing some last-minute cleaning. Tommy had gone to get some food for the three of you. Silence and depression must have oozed from you, enough to make Maria stop unpacking and sit with you on the love seat, her hand holding yours. The two of you just sat there quietly, eyes on each other, Maria silently telling you she will be here for you no matter what.

The man broke the surprisingly comfortable silence. He told you the only window in the room was stuck, but he will be back the next day to fix it. Also, the laundry room was downstairs, just to the left of the mailboxes, and if you needed anything, he lived right below you, just knock on his door or call him, and he will help you out in any way he could. Maria looked at him disbelievingly, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

You thank him, asking for his name. He gave you his card.

“Joel, Joel Miller.”

And he quickly left the room, avoiding Maria’s judgmental eyes. Miller, oh, this is Tommy’s brother, you think.

When Tommy returned, the three of you ate silently, the two of them not knowing what to say to you. Tommy was quietly seething, unable to believe the man you dedicated the last ten years of your life to would do this to you. Before he left, he told you to call him or Maria, or even Joel if you needed anything. But you remember, you no longer had a phone. He even took that away from you.

When Maria took you to get a new phone, your credit card was declined. Your account had been frozen. The clinic you went to for your fever told you your health insurance had been cancelled. You had to use the cash you had to pay for a new phone and decided that buying Tylenol was cheaper than getting checked up.

He had worked fast. You had not even been out of the house for 24 hours and he had taken every comfort you had away from you. You went to sleep that night with your pillows wet from your tears. Ten years. And he just pulled the rug out from under you.

---

You met Max when you were at the teacher’s training college. He was a barista at the café you frequented, his good looks and charm quickly capturing your attention. You were inseparable since then, and when you graduated, he moved with you to the small town you were teaching at. Work was scarce for him, so when he told you he wanted to go back to school and earn his degree in business management, you fully supported it. He went to school during the day, and bartended at night, while you took a waitressing job at the same place he worked at after school ended, and a bookstore during the weekends to make ends meet.

When he graduated, with well-paying jobs still being scarce in a small town, he persuaded you to move to a bigger city, where job prospects for him would be better. You moved to the city with him, where he quickly got a job at a small marketing company, his pay was not much and both of you had to take other jobs to make ends meet. You were still teaching at a school just on the edge of the city, doing your master’s degree part time. He fully supported your decision to further yourself, knowing that you have bigger dreams to teach at a university one day. You lived in a small one-bedroomed apartment, not much, but just enough for the two of you. Your life was going well, despite money being tight.

When the company he worked for went out of business, he told you that a couple of his coworkers were getting some money together to start their own company, some of the clients from their old job had already agreed to be their first clients. It was all a go, except he needed help with some seed money, he’s about ten thousand dollars short.

Your late mother had been a frugal woman, being a single mother had made her very careful with money, a trait she had passed down to you, along with her savings when she passed. You have the money, but it would wipe out your savings. Your conscience was telling you no, do not give him the money. Be careful! But you were in love. And he really was all you had left, so you gave it to him. Max was grateful, he worked hard, money was tight that first year, but things were looking up. His earnings increased, you both could afford to let go of your other jobs, and you managed to graduate with a master’s degree on time, with no loans to your name.

As time went by, his company started doing very well indeed. You expressed your desire to pursue your doctorate, and he was more than supportive. He suggested you become a full-time student, after all, you did support him when he needed you, so why not quit your job? He could easily support both of you. His income was now more than ten times yours anyway, you have access to the joint account, might as well go full on. Let him take care of you, please? So, you did. You enrolled at a university a little over ten miles from your new shiny luxurious condo and became a full time PhD candidate.

Max, being so busy with his company flourishing, was seldom home. He bought you nice things, took you on vacations, all in the name of thanking you for being there for him when he had nothing. But being raised in a humble home, you weren’t looking for luxuries, only his time and attention, which he promised you will have once things settle down a bit. Being home alone in a big condo that had a foyer bigger than your entire first apartment together was unnerving, so you rented a study room at the university, a small room where you could do your work comfortably, without distractions whenever Max told you he would be late coming home.

And that was where Frank found you this morning.

You had arrived home the night before to your two suitcases outside your door, Max and his smirking secretary Esther demanding you hand over your keys, jewelry and phone. You came to this house that HE bought with two suitcases of clothes, he said. You leave with them only. Leave everything he bought for you behind. You were blindsided. You did not see this coming. Despite him being busy, his attention to you had never wavered. He was the same loving man you met all those years ago. Sexually, he had never given you doubt that he was still attracted to you. So, you asked him, why?

He said he wanted wife material. Someone to wait for him at home, not someone who was so ambitious they couldn’t stop getting degree after degree. What was the point of spending the rest of his life with someone who could only think about furthering themselves and not giving themselves fully to him? He wanted a wife, a family, and Esther was willing to give him that, he said, while she smugly caressed her lower stomach.

Oh. Oh…

He had always said marriage can wait. Babies can wait. Let’s focus on the business and your studies first. Get yourselves sorted, and then we can talk marriage and family. But clearly, he just didn’t want them with you. You reminded him through tears that you had always been there for him, that you had helped build his business from the ground up. He smirked, went inside, came back out and tossed a wad of cash at you.

Ten thousand dollars.

And shut the door.

---

Joel was folding his laundry when you came in, your laundry just bunched in your hand instead of a basket, having only moved in with your suitcases. He rushed towards you with a spare basket, and you thanked him quietly, your face still pale and your body weak. You still had a temperature, but you just wanted to get yourself sorted. You did your laundry quietly, mentally calculating the amount of money you had, silently budgeting, trying to figure out how to stretch the amount unceremoniously thrown at you as much as you can. The RA position Frank had gotten you will help, but not much. By your calculation, you had another year at the most before your dissertation was completed, so you needed to figure out how to get by until then, so you can graduate on time.

You just felt so stupid. You let him handle everything, thinking that your love was strong enough, that you were a solid couple. You let him talk you into quitting your job. Into having a joint account that you no longer contributed to since you were no longer working. You stood there, leaning against the folding table in the laundry room, watching your laundry go round and round in the machine.

Joel watched you silently. He wondered what you were thinking about. He had been where you were, albeit the situation may have been different. He remembered the first few months after Laura pulled the rug from under him, how hopeless he had felt, how stupid, how meaningless life had been. If not for Tommy and Maria, he would have drowned at the bottom of a bottle long ago. He wanted to say something to you, to let you know everything will be alright, but it was not in his nature to speak to women he hardly knew, let alone one in your situation. He was a man of action, not one of many words.

He watched you as you looked at your laundry in the machine, eyes looking but not really. He knew you were not really there. He knew how impossible it was for someone in your situation to think about other things, no matter how hard you tried. He worried for you, which was not like him. He only knew your first name, rental agreements hadn’t even been signed yet, Tommy insisting all that can be taken care of later. Joel placed all his laundry in his basket before taking another glance in your direction.

You were not there.

He walked around the table, and saw you on the floor, passed out.

Joel didn’t hesitate, picking you up and taking you to his truck. He called Tommy on the way, driving the four miles to the university emergency room – why does this place have to be so huge???? When they asked him for her insurance information, he told them he would pay for the treatment, giving them your first name, placing his credit card on the counter. He waited nervously outside while they checked you out, filling in the situation to Tommy, Maria, Frank and his husband Bill when they got there.

The doctor came outside, calling for Joel. All of them stood up, Joel stepping forward to talk to the doctor.

“Your wife is fine, Mr. Miller. She is just dehydrated and has a slight temperature. She can leave in a little bit. You can go in to see her if you want, but first, congratulations Mr. Miller, you are going to be a father.”

---

You couldn’t process it. You were pregnant. How? You were on birth control. Just your luck to still get knocked up despite your efforts to be safe. And the father of your child had just dumped you for his secretary, who was also pregnant with his child. Shit, you should get tested. Who knows where else he’d been dipping his wick. And you need to get insured. Shit. You had no insurance. How much was this going to cost? And oh God, you’re going to have a baby. How much do babies cost? How much would the check-ups be? You still hadn’t paid the deposit and first and last month for your apartment. And now this too. Shit. Why did they take you to the ER? Did they call an ambulance?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You couldn’t catch your breath. The machines started beeping. Shit, calm down. No, no, no, no, no… more procedures, more money down the drain. Money you didn’t have. You quickly pull the heart rate thingy off your finger. But the beeping didn’t stop. The wires on your chest. You ripped those off too. No. No unnecessary procedures. You knew what was wrong with you. But the nurses were there at the first warning of the machines, they pushed your shoulder onto the bed when you tried to get up. No. No, no, no, no, no. You saw the needle. Shit. How much would that cost you now? No. No!!!

Everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer in the treatment room in the ER. You were in a room, a ward, and it was dark outside. There was only one bed, there were still wires on you but none on your chest, thankfully. Just that blasted heart rate thingy pinching your forefinger. You pulled it off. Your throat felt so dry, despite the hanging IV bag that was uncomfortably connected to your hand. You needed to pee. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to sit up, your feet hanging off the bed. You stood up, one hand on the IV drip stand, took a step and immediately felt woozy.

A pair of warm hands suddenly appeared on your waist, steadying you. You turned around, your eyes meeting a pair of sleepy brown eyes that you had only seen a couple of times. His clothes crumpled, his hair tousled and his face showing evidence of uncomfortable sleep all over.

You took a step back from him, almost toppling over in the process, but he tightened his hold of you, one hand letting go of your waist and taking your arm instead. He told you not to freak out. It’s only him. His voice was rough from being awoken so suddenly, but you suddenly relaxed. Something about his voice was so calming to you, but you couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

Once you had steadied yourself, he let go of you. You went to the bathroom to relieve yourself, and when you came out, he was sitting in the chair to the left of the bed, which explained why you didn’t notice his presence. He helped you back to bed and gave you some water. You were so thirsty you drank three full glasses before you placed the glass down on the cabinet next to your bed.

“What happened? Why am I warded?”

“You had a panic attack. They had to sedate you, keep your overnight to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m pregnant,” you said slowly, remembering what happened.

He nodded. You covered your face with your hands, tears falling so suddenly even you were surprised by its presence. Your knees came up to your chest, and you hugged them, rocking your body slightly, processing the realization. Joel got up to his feet, his hands twitching, as if he wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how. He let you cry. His eyes averted slightly, giving you some privacy, flicking back towards you every now and again to make sure you were alright. He finally settled back down when you wiped your face clean with your gown and took a deep breath.

“Why have you stayed here with me Joel?”

“They wouldn’t let Maria stay – she’s not family. And since I brought you in, they thought I was the father. Someone should stay with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Oh.

“It’s okay if you want to go, Joel. I’ll be alright. I’m not your responsibility. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable sleeping in your own bed.”

“I’m already here,” he said with a shrug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, before he told you to lie back down and get some rest, but not before he made you drink more water. When you woke up, Joel wasn’t there. The nurses were fussing over you, taking your blood pressure, checking your temperature, before a doctor came in with more nurses and some interns, an ultrasound machine wheeled in behind her.

“Good morning, Julia, I’m Dr Servopoulos, but you can call me Tess. I’m here to do your ultrasound. Would you be okay with my interns being here to learn?” she asked, a smile on her face.

You nodded. Tess pointed at one of the interns who began to read your patient history, when Joel came back in, a paper bag in one hand, a tray with two to go cups in the other. He stopped when he saw the crowd of doctors around your bed.

“Oh, I’ll wait outside,” he began retreating.

“Is he the father? If so, he can stay,” Tess said, looking at you.

You looked at Joel, remembering what he told you last night. You nodded. You offered him your hand. He didn’t hesitate, taking it after placing the bag and cups on the chair he spent the night in. You knew this was not appropriate. You had only known him for a couple of days. But you were really scared, you didn’t want to be alone for this. You will apologize to him later, you thought. But he didn’t seem to mind, sandwiching the hand you offered him between both of his. Why did this feel so right? His hands were warm, the comfort they brought spreading throughout your body, and suddenly you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

When Tess lifted your gown up to prepare for the ultrasound, Joel averted his eyes, he moved further up to stand beside your head, his hands still clasping yours. You looked up at him, your face scrunched slightly when an intern squirted cold gel on your belly before the fart-like sound of the almost empty bottle made you snicker like a child. The young lady was persistent, determined to get every last drop of gel from the bottle, making more and more fart noises, causing you to lose control and started laughing out loud. He lost it when you snorted, letting out a full belly laugh along with you, making you forget you didn’t know this man at all. The doctors couldn’t help but laugh along. Even Tess, who must have done this a million times, was wiping tears from her eyes.

When the tiny bean of a baby appeared on the screen, you stopped laughing.

“There’s your baby Mom, Dad,” Tess said, pointing at the screen.

You felt all your problems melt away. You had a baby in your belly, this was real. You were pregnant. You felt Joel’s hand tighten around yours, and you squeezed back without thinking.

“Looks like you are about seven to eight weeks along,” Tess continued. “Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat.”

She clicked on some buttons and maneuvered the wand around a bit and the room was suddenly filled with the whoosh whooshing sounds of your baby’s heartbeat.

Your sight suddenly went blurry. Uncontrollable tears filling them to the brim. Despite the tears, you couldn’t help smiling. You couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. You were pulled from your haze when you felt a pair of whiskered lips touch your temple. You looked up at Joel, a wide smile on his face, his teary eyes glued to the screen, just like yours were.

After you were cleaned up, Tess talked to both of you about pre-natal care, telling you your due date, and setting up the next appointment. The whole time, Joel’s hand never left yours, and you were in no hurry to let go either. His presence was welcomed. He calmed you down, although you had no idea why.

After the doctors left, the two of you settled back down, Joel finally letting your hand go. He brought tea for you, and some pastries from the café downstairs. After he helped you eat your own provided breakfast, he put the cups and plates away, before sitting back down, and began apologizing to you.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“Getting carried away,” he said, his eyes on his own feet, referring to the kiss on your temple. “Thank you for letting me share that with you. It was a special time. I know you would’ve preferred to share that with the father and not some strange man you have just met,” he said quietly.

It was then that it hit you, you didn’t even think about Max throughout all that wonderful experience. It was as if your body and soul had accepted that you would be alone in this, even if you hadn’t decided if you were going to let him know about the baby yet. You assured him it was alright and thanked him in turn for being there for you. He didn’t need to, but he did, and you had a wonderful first check-up as a result.

Maria and Frank called, wanting to come by to check up on you, but you had already been discharged, so they agreed to come visit at the apartment instead. Joel took care of the bill and took you to your new home. He made a point to keep the bill out of your reach. When he cut the engine and ran out to open your door for you, you took the bill out of the console and quickly hid it under your shirt. You needed to pay him back. For your own peace of mind. When Frank and Bill and Tommy and Maria arrived, Joel left the five of you to talk. Only then did you open the envelope. The bill was over several pages, along with a copy of the ultrasound. You took it off the clip, and studied the bill.

Your heart skipped a beat at the amount displayed. For one night? Shit. What are you going to do?

Maria took the bill, looked at it and gave it to Tommy, who glanced at it before pocketing it. But they all knew what you were thinking. Bill, ever the no nonsense lawyer that he was, looked you straight in the eyes and asked you if you were going to call Max. He told you that it would be entirely up to you, of course, but they think you should, and see how it would go from there. If he agreed to take responsibility, at least you wouldn’t be burdened by the medical costs and anything else the baby needs alone – lord knows that man could afford it. But if he didn’t, then maybe that’ll just hammer down the reality of what an asshole he really was, and you could move on from there, with their help.

In your heart, you knew you wanted to tell him. He was the love of your life for ten years. This was the baby you two made together, with love. You may not have planned this, but the love was real, at least on your part. That night, you thought about what it would have been like to find out about the baby if you two were still together. Would he have been happy? Would he have hugged you and kissed you and cried tears of joy? One part of you would like to believe so, but your mind kept flashing back to the way he dumped you. Without warning. Cold. Smug. Uncaring. He didn’t even care that you wouldn’t have any way to contact an uber or a taxi, he didn’t care that it was raining and cold. It was as if the last ten years didn’t happen. And ten thousand dollars was all he thought you were worth after all those years you helped support him. And you couldn’t get the sneering look in his eyes when he tossed the money at you, like you meant nothing to him, not even yesterday’s garbage.

But Bill was right. He should know. It was his baby, after all. And even if you were heartbroken, you didn’t have the heart to keep a baby away from its father. So, if he decided to be in the baby’s life, you would let him.

So there you were, with Bill, Frank, Tommy, Maria and Joel by your side, standing in front of his condo entrance. The guards wouldn’t let you in, their faces apologetic, but they were only doing their jobs. When he drove up, Max got out of the car aggressively, asking you what you wanted. Didn’t he make himself clear? You were no longer welcome there. Behind him, Esther got out of the car, her face clearly annoyed that you were there.

“I’m pregnant, Max.”

He froze. “What?” His eyes searched your face and body, he took a tentative step towards you. “You’re pregnant?” a small smile graced his face.

For a moment, you thought he was going to hug you.

But his smile faltered, and his eyes turned cold again. “How do I even know that’s mine? Or that you’re not lying? You spend all day on campus. How do I know you haven’t been whoring around? How do I know you’re not just saying this to trap me?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. He’s the one who left you for someone else, but he’s accusing you of sleeping around? No. You can see Tommy and Joel taking a step towards you in your periphery, but a blurry figure got in front of you first, and a resounding smack hit your face.

Esther was screaming at you, calling you a gold digger. A scorned woman. A used up old bitch. Why couldn’t you just accept that he doesn’t want you anymore? Why would you break up a family? Let it go, bitch, let it go. He’s mine now. Go and hide among your books and let us live our lives in peace. How dare you try to take him away from me? As if you could ever. Look in the mirror, slut!

At this point, Maria pulled you away, walking you to her car. Joel, Tommy and Frank followed. Bill handed a stunned Max his card, telling him to contact his office when he made up his mind. Esther was still screaming. Throwing her shoe your way, calling you every name in the book. But you didn’t even hear her at this point, Max’s accusatory words lingering in your ears.

Bill came to see you in your study room a week later, an envelope in his hands. Max had contacted his office. He enclosed a cheque with enough money to pay for your studies, health insurance and rent for a whole year, which would be enough for you to get back on your feet, under the condition that you sign a document relinquishing him of all his fatherly commitments to the baby you were carrying forever.

You didn’t even blink when you signed the document, despite Bill and Frank’s protests. Were you proud that you took his money? No. But he had hurt you so much at this point, you just wanted to be rid of him. Why worry for someone who didn’t want you anymore? Your mother raised you alone. You could do it too. You had a life to start living again, a doctorate to finish, and a baby to grow and eventually, raise.

Alone.

Part 2

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

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schizopositivity · 2 months ago

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Hey, could I ask what coping skills you use to help with hallucinations and such?

I’m not diagnosed with anything yet so I’m not on any meds. And my coping skills aren’t very good.

I usually just use music and try to ignore things to the best of my ability. That helps with a lot of the more usual auditory hallucinations. Walls and floors moving are…hard. But I typically just reach out to feel them (and hope I’m not having tactile hallucinations too and don’t feel that move)

But things like feeling bugs on my skin. Or hearing disturbing things (screaming, loud extremely negative internal voices / intrusive thoughts, etc) I don’t really know how to deal with? And I was wondering you’d have any tips? The internet isn’t very helpful and I was wondering if someone else who experiences this stuff too might have some better suggestions!

Thanks!

My biggest coping skills are distracting myself from the hallucinations, and trying to ease my emotional reactions to them.

Music is great, but it can't really drown out the auditory hallucinations. In my experience listening to a YouTube video, watching a show/movie, listening to an audiobook or talking to someone is more helpful. These things require my attention, and for me to think about what I'm hearing, that way I'm not focusing on or thinking about the hallucinations.

I am a fan of the "putting your hands on the walls to feel that they are actually steady" trick. I've talked about it a long time ago on this blog, since I have experienced moving walls and floors a lot. I think it also is a very grounding experience. If you are hallucinating it can be very helpful to use a fidget toy or something else that is pleasing to touch (dry rice, sand, rocks, soft blankets, etc). It shifts your focus to something that is real, that you can feel and be comforted by.

For the other, maybe more distressing hallucinations, it can be very helpful to distract yourself. Consciously shifting your focus away from the hallucinations and onto something you enjoy. This can be a hobby like drawing or crocheting. Or something relaxing like watching your favorite TV show, or going on a walk. This won't actually stop the hallucinations themselves, but it will keep you engaged with something else, which can help you ignore the hallucinations.

In my experience, spending a lot of time focusing on and thinking about the hallucinations can make things worse (as in feel more severe, not change the amount of hallucinations). Luckily I have spent years coping with the hallucinations, to the point where now I can experience them and immediately move on, which is way less stressful for me. And that was a skill I learned after a lot of practice, and I'm glad I did. It won't be easy at first, but I do believe that it is possible to eventually ignore hallucinations to the point that they are just mildly annoying.

Also since you aren't getting treatment for the root of the issue (the hallucinations), the best thing you can do is try and treat your emotional reaction to them at home. This can be any self care activity that works for you. This will be personalized to you but it can be things like cuddling your pet, taking a bath, reading a book, applying makeup, baking your favorite sweets, making a cup of tea, calling a friend, etc. If you want more ideas you can turn to the internet but look for "self care ideas" or "ways to destress at home". Because hallucinations can be very distressing, and it's important to care for yourself during and after the experience. These things can overlap with the distraction techniques, either way it's getting your mind off of the hallucinations and onto things you enjoy.

I hope you find a way to make the hallucinations more manageable, and take care of yourself. Your comfort is the most important thing when it comes to hallucinations. It is always worth it to invest your time into self care and relaxation.

#answered #hallucinations #coping techniques #mental illness #neurodivergent #nd #psychosis #mental health awareness #pseriouslypsychotic

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shalomniscient · 9 months ago

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hello sev! there’s so little nox content on tumblr…do you have any nsft/sft headcanons for nox??? by thr way your sevcchino writings are SO GOOD i love self insert stuff its always so fun to read!:7:!27:!:&

hiiii sghshhdhdhd thanks for liking my delusion content !! arle makes me more ill then any character ever has before 😔😔😔 /pos

(someone ask me about sevchino lore. i swear im normal. come into the enclosure i swear i dont bite—)

cw. mentions of sex

anyway as for NOX ur so right anon there is criminally low content for her on this webbed site so i suppose it is time to be the change we want to see in the world 😌😌😌

NOX at maximum compliance and post-interro is just a sweetheart. a dangerous sweetheart to be sure, but still a sweetheart none the less. she very much has puppy energy, in that she’ll always want to please you and follow your orders. if she could, she’d trail you around the bureau while you work—which is both immensely funny and downright terrifing, because that’s the grim reaper why is she acting like a lovesick puppy ?? NOX is your scary dog privileges frfr

anywho, you can mostly find NOX in the gardens or her own cell. if she’s in the gardens then she’s usually crouched near a flowerbed, looking at the blooms but not touching them—they’ll just die, and she doesn’t want that. but you can see the way longing twists her pale features, so you pull hella aside and ask her if she wants a little extra pocket money.

“crochet flowers like i crochet my beanies…? ugh, chief, who do you think i— you’re going to pay me 150 DisCoins per flower? …what colour and when?”

NOX is a little confused when you hand her the bouquet once hella’s completed them. she refuses at first, thinking she’d just damage them, but with some coaxing you manage to get her to take the flowers. she cradles them in her arms, and you see as her expression morphs into surprise as she holds them.

“they smell… nice,” she says slowly, and you’re glad she likes them (making that deal with cassia took several years off your lifespan.) NOX keeps them in a vase in her cell, and you pop by every so often to give them another spritz of perfume, specific to each flower. roses, daisies, tulips—you commission hella to make more until there’s a yarn garden in NOX’s cell.

she loves it. sometimes you’ll find her sitting on her bed and simply looking at the flowers, or gently holding one in her blackened hands. if you decide to come in and sit next to her, she’ll let her head rest on your shoulder, and the both of you just rest in comfortable silence.

NOX doesn’t want for much. her purpose now, as it were, is to follow you. she’d head to the edges of the world, into the deepest, darkest oblivion for you. all she wants is to remain by your side, to feel the warmth of you against her skin.

nsft utc—

due to NOX’s unique physiology she can’t really get aroused in the conventional way. but the shackles are a powerful thing—and sometimes your need is strong enough that it travels down to NOX, and she feels her still heart jump. NOX’s body is generally really cold, but once you get going and by extension her, she starts to warm up.

NOX is definitely the submissive one between you both, but she’ll top if you want. just tell her what to do, how to do it. it’ll take her some time, but she learns eventually. NOX usually cums when you cum, due to the heightened sensitivity of the shackles between you both. but she likes it more when you make her cum with your fingers or your strap.

in general, i’d say NOX is more fond of lovemaking then fucking. she wants to be close to you, always, because you’re the one person she can’t hurt by virtue of existing. you’re so so important to her and she wants you to know with every breathless gasp she lets out of your name or in the way she licks or fingers you with awkward but well-meaning tenderness.

NOX is the first to say i love you, one night after you both wind down from a round of soft sex. to anyone else, it may sound terrifying—powerful words spoken in that echoing, haunting voice of hers, but to you she sounds nothing short of lovely. you run your fingers through her long, pale hair and hold her tightly against you as you return the words to her.

#sev.responses #sev.scribbles #[nsft]#ptn #NOX x reader #ptn nox #NOX #sorry this took a while #my nox knowledge has rusted #need to replay her interro #but i hope this is alright anon !!

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fantasyfantasygames · 4 months ago

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Circles of Heaven

Circles of Heaven, Eustace Selden, 1998

Circles of Heaven (CoH) started off as a hard rebound against the Satanic Panic - by an evangelical kid. The goal was to make an RPG that would be considered holy. This... did not happen.

The author did his first writing when he was 14, which beats me by a year. Unlike me, he was raised in... well, a cult. The first version of CoH was about playing angels, but it was also full of proto-quiverfull eschatological heaven-justifies-the-means propaganda. By the time he was 17, his friends had successfully pulled him out of the cult and gotten him living with distant relatives in Tacoma. The author's changing worldview, the evolving music scene, some bootleg anime, and suggestions from the same friends - seriously, this friend group is fantastic - led to a major revision of the game. It was published locally in 1998, printed by a local shop and driven around to game stores and bookstores until they found some that would sell it.

Chargen is mostly random. You pick your Nobility and Corpus. Nobility is your rank, which doesn't let you order each other around but does apply to certain creatures. For example, Archdukes can give orders to insects; a Prince or Princess of Heaven can give orders to mammals (except humans). You get some alliterative skills related to your type of creature - Archdukes get bonuses to Clandestine, Collective, and Contaminate.

Corpus is your body, and I think it's a particularly fun part of the game. Characters in CoH are angels. They're not traditional biblical angels, because the bible is secretly the work of Satan - full of half-truths more dangerous than outright lies. Instead, they're inspired by the weirdest of monsters: adlets, nuckelavee, ouroboros, futakuchi-onna, penanggalan, and a several others. You are both a human being and your monster self at the same time. You can do things that either form could do, or even things that would need both a monster and a human in the same place at the same time, and it doesn't have to make sense to see.

You roll for your Hunt (the kind of people you're here on Earth to help or punish, gives skill bonuses), your Time (the hour each day where you have extra-special powers), your Vision (how you think the world could be made ideal, gives you more skill bonuses), and your Ruling Virtues. Oh, and your attributes. Those are done on a 5-15 scale generated from a d100 table. I did say this game was written in the early 90s.

You also roll for your equipment. Not boring mortal stuff, but for a wide variety of sacred items that you hold in potentia near you and can manifest at need. Shields of fire. Shadow citadels that can hide you overnight. Flocks of stained-glass butterflies that provide cover and distracting fascination. Daybreak, the mace made of pure sunlight. Nullblades that wield themselves and absorb bullets and magic alike. Fatehook, a crochet hook that can re-knot the fabric of the world - slow to use but flexible and devastating.

The system is mediocre. It's basically a heavily-stripped-down Rolemaster, with no critical hits or spell lists. If you can't come up with anything from Rolemaster that isn't the critical hits table, you're not alone. CoH's system sort of slid into my brain and slid right back out without making an impression.

The place the game is really lacking is art. Most of it is from early otaku who loved anime but had never taken an art class. The best of it turned out to be traced from manga. The cover was a black-and-white ouroboros on a white background, which, while still not particularly well-drawn, was at least striking on the shelf.

Eustace eventually moved on. In an interview in 2012 he said that writing the game was a cathartic experience for him, helping him understand where he came from and embrace where he was going. Once it was out, he didn't feel the need to keep writing. I hope he finds a creative spark again some day - I think a shorter version (with better art) would fit well with games like Mörk Borg and Songbirds.

#ttrpg #imaginary #indie ttrpg #rpg #review #rad kewl powerz #I had to look up whether INS/MV was out in time to inspire this #It was but I decided the imaginary kid didn't read French #que sera sera

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 10 months ago

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Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 16)

tw: literally Yves watching ur every move, super suffocating stuff, Yandere shenanigans

Yeah ok u guys decided to lust for the creep, then the creep u shall receive

after this chapter i mean

Part 17

You told him your opinion on Montgomery.

"I see." He replied. Yves deadpanned at you before pulling you in for another kiss on the lips. Your face and the tips of your ears heat up, you're still not used to this yet.

He pulled away and chuckled at your bashfulness. Trying to cover your burning face with your hands is futile, as it only makes him tease you more.

"Call me if you need to go somewhere. I'm available for you any time." He slung the straps of his handbag around his shoulder, and Yves prepared his car keys in his hand.

You told him 'okay' as you're rubbing the last of his lipstick marks off using a piece of wet wipe.

He stroked your head, traced his fingertips down your jaw and finally held your chin. He tilted your head upwards and gave you a forehead kiss.

You whinged as you now have to wipe off one last print. He bid you goodbye before closing and locking the front door behind him.

Soon after, you dashed back into your room trying to escape your housemates hollering.

Days would go on like this: Yves breaks into your house using the spare key, scare the shit out of you when you open the door to see him standing there, receive adequate kisses, eat (br)lunch, talk for hours, landlord comes over to fix more stuff, eat dinner and finally, at around midnight- sometimes later, Yves would leave.

You would go to sleep almost immediately, but definitely looking forward to the next day.

He started coming in earlier and earlier, working on his things during times where you had nothing to say. You asked him about his work, he tried explaining it to you but you zoned out. It's so boring and complicated. Full of numbers, charts and graphs, you couldn't care less.

Needless to say, he cooked all your meals and did all your chores for you. You always protested, because it isn't his job and you should be responsible for taking out the trash or keeping yourself alive.

Yves would simply ignore you and do them anyway. If you're particularly worried, he assures you that it's some sort of a hobby of his to take good care of you. If you insist that he stops, he will guilt you; making you think that you're unnecessarily taking away part of his joy in this relationship when it isn't even harming you. So you just let him do what he wants, and you benefit from it greatly.

You really like him. He lets you take a nap on his lap while he types away at your desk, Yves listens to you ramble about your interests and occasionally adds his own fascinating commentary to it. You were astonished to know he has a whole database of random fandom trivia in his head. He washed your sheets and made your bed for you every morning.

He lets you hog his portable fan to yourself. But eventually, his bargaining powers lead to your landlord installing a ceiling air conditioner in your room. The best part? No rise in rent.

Yves gradually introduced you to a solid skincare routine. It started off with a simple face cleanser and moisturizer. Then he added toner to the regime. Then a weekly exfoliation and bi-weekly usage of sheet masks. It was hard for you to remember to do it or have the motivation, but Yves didn't mind maintaining your skin.

You just love the tingles you felt when he reclined you on your chair and he massages your face with the moisturizer. His fingers skillfully work to unravel you.

He made your house actually enjoyable to live in. You haven't gone out in three weeks and that didn't alarm you. You are glowing, physically fitter than ever, clean and most importantly, happy.

You have the drive to do so many things. Like learning a new language, learning to code, learning to knit or crochet, learning to draw... anything you wanted to do, Yves is always the expert to consult. He would buy the materials you need and teach you step by step. It made sense for him to be an extraordinary mentor, because you found out that he was also an exemplary lecturer at your university at one point.

You confirmed that he's currently a researcher, specifically, a research mathematician who works together with other branches of academia including but not limited to human Psychology, biology and sociology. The gist of his project has to do with predictive algorithms and probabilities. It's impressive and complicated, too bad you're not interested beyond what was described in a nutshell.

It's no secret that you look up to him, seeing that you're also a student looking to advance their education.

But it begs the question of his age. He has done so much in a short span of time. You wonder what his true age is.

But it's almost impossible to know because he would be offended whenever his age is brought up. It seems like he despised being perceived as ancient, which you understand. He probably comes from a time where youth is overly worshipped. You let it go, it isn't like his age affects you in any way.

It doesn't mean you didn't try searching him up. At first you suspected that he was lying because you couldn't find anything about him working at your university on the internet. But you sent an email to the administration asking about him. They came back with the confirmation that Yves is currently a hired researcher there. Strange that they knew who he is without knowing his last name. You guess there's only one Yves in the entirety of his faculty.

Speaking of names, you were shocked to find out that Yves didn't have a last name. After tons of relentless teasing from Yves for wanting to know his surname and a platitude of shame-induced face coverings later, you finally discovered he doesn't have one. This was bizarre to you, but Yves only told you off for being insensitive towards him, as not everyone has the privilege of a last name. It seems like a touchy subject, better not bring it up again.

Although it has been around a month since you think you first met Yves, you can safely say that you're madly in love with him. He is way more attentive and caring of you than anyone you ever met. Not even your parents or guardians can compare. Absolutely no one in your life has treated you this well.

There is that nagging feeling that something is very wrong. It wasn't a "He is going to leave you for someone better" feeling, it was more of a "what if Yves is secretly an organ harvester and he's healing you up to make a good price on the black market?"

But due to blind love, you forced yourself to brush it off as some implausible, impossible, silly thought.

...is it though? Yves does give off uncanny vibes sometimes no matter how suave and sexy he is. He has a lot of things to hide and the knowledge that you have of him is not enough to save you if he ever decides to steal a kidney or two.

Maybe this relationship isn't good for you. It keeps giving you inner turmoil to lose sleep over. This is definitely too good to be true, no one likes being a full time babysitter for their partner; this has to be a trap! You think you should quickly break it off with Yves before it gets too--

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you felt the chilly air from the air conditioner nip at your skin. The bliss of not being boiled alive by your own fluid trickles down your forehead.

You close your eyes and grin, letting the wind blow on your sweaty hair. This is lovely, you're so grateful to have Yves in your life. If you didn't have him here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy this temperate luxury.

Yves lets his focused gaze linger on your form for a few more seconds before replacing the remote back onto the holder. Yves pressed the button on his stopwatch, the beep was soft enough to go unnoticed.

He checked the temperature, the time and the humidity of your bedroom before logging them all into his computer. Yves turned his head to look at your position on the floor, you're splayed out like a rag as gusts of cold air strike your body.

He opened another file, which is the floorplan of this house. His eyes scanned the screen, noting down the exact coordinates of your precise location.

It would always be like this. You would start formulating thoughts and suspicions on Yves, spiral so much that you contemplated ending everything to protect yourself, then something interrupts your mind and eradicating the unwanted ideas entirely. Be it a change in temperature, texture, hunger or thirst. Sometimes, it's because you feel you hit your Yves-interaction/social quota for the day. So he would excuse himself and leave your house until you recovered.

He always comes back at the perfect time. Just right when you're starting to yearn for him. Yves ensures he never leaves for too long to make you think he's neglecting you. But he wouldn't come back too soon to make you go "yuck, this bitch's face again?"

Your signs could be as minuscule as a lower lip twitch, a brief, split-second movement of the eye, flaring of nostrils, positioning of your arms or even a change in the depth or rhythm of your breathing.

Or it could be an increase in heart rate, body temperature or sweat beading from your pores. Hell, it could even be the sound of you swallowing your spit or the smell of irritation.

They are all telltale signs that you're about to do or think about something undesirable due to overwhelm or underwhelm.

It's scary. He could just detect it with his superhuman senses. But ignorance is bliss, you still didn't know that he's puppeteering your environment accordingly. He would very much like to keep it that way.

Yves must admit, he has been careless. For the past three weeks, he failed to consider that his daily presence is wearing you down. It was his own fault for disregarding his calculations, Yves was originally only supposed to see you four times a week; that was the most optimal arrangement.

But he was enamoured, as desperate and feverish as you to be together. He just hides it impeccably well. Could you blame him, though? This was the first time you acknowledged him, the first time Yves got to kiss, touch, and hug you as freely as he wanted. The first time he gets to observe past the use of cameras- he does not need to hide. He gets to put his elaborate meal plans to use, you're eating his cooking, he's washing your clothes and you're accepting his backrubs. This is the closest so far to the ideal he wanted in his life with you. Anyone would be greedy in his situation.

But he flew too close to the sun like Icarus did. The wax melted off his wings and now he has to face the consequences that would have been avoided if only he had controlled himself better.

He's starting to notice you're not as positively receptive to his kisses as before. Sometimes even outright grimacing and shuddering in disgust when you think he's not looking. You spent a couple minutes longer in the bathroom, sometimes up to an hour, claiming you had stomach issues. But you didn't have problems with your digestion, your boyfriend made sure of that. He meticulously checks everything that goes into your mouth and he knows you didn't even pull your pants down. All you did was sit in the corner and scroll on your phone.

You did it just to escape from Yves and he's fully aware of that.

It devastated him when he went through your internet history:

Yves removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He checked the timestamps, and you accessed the web since three in the morning.

"Why are my boyfriend's kisses and hugs gross to me now"

"Clingy boyfriend"

"How to tell my boyfriend to stop being clingy without hurting his feelings"

"How to say no to hugs"

"How to say no to hugs and kisses"

"How to say no"

"How to stop people pleasing"

"How to tell people that i dont want to see them but not forever just for a few days"

"Social battery"

"Therapists near me"

"Therapy price"

"is University counseling free"

"university counseling wait times"

"How to break up with my boyfriend"

"Is it rude to break up over text"

"Script for breaking up"

"Nice script for breaking up"

"Kind script for breaking up"

"Breaking up without hurting his feelings script"

"ChatGPT"

"Do retired lecturers have a habit of checking for plagiarism in their day to day life"

"Is AI generated content plagiarism"

"Jobs near me"

He knows he has no one but himself to blame. He had a plan all laid out, if he followed it to a Tee, it would have conditioned you to ultimately accept his intense love without complaints. He was supposed to give you a maximum of one kiss on the lips and four others somewhere else on your face. But gave you a whopping average of 76 kisses a day, 20 of which are on the lips; 1520% of the actual daily cap on kisses.

Likewise, he hugged you too much. Yves was only supposed to give you 12 hugs, lasting 8 seconds each at most, spaced throughout the day. However, you're in his arms for a total of 6 hours a day; 2250% of the maximum.

He is the first thing you see in the morning and the last face you perceive before sleeping, From before sunrise to past beyond sundown, you would be exposed to him; from 6am to 12am the next day; he would already be in your room before you're even awake. Subconsciously, you know he's there because the brain never stops working.

Of course, you would be sick of him! It doesn't matter if you came from an affectionate family or you turned out severely touch-starved, with extreme figures like these, anyone would be nauseated with his presence by the third week!

Yves fought back the urge to run the numbers back the fifth time. The cold hard facts are there, he made a grave mistake. Painstakingly recalculating everything is just a pathetic attempt to appease his denial that he lost control over himself.

He sighed and propped his head up by an elbow, absentmindedly fiddling on his calculator. Yves's eyes flitted up to the monitor. You're curled up into a ball on your bed, scrolling on your phone. Most likely to try and catch up with your own me-time. Yves could see pixels of bags forming under your eyes.

He shook his head and decided he must rectify this. Yves got up from his seat and sauntered out of his office, switching the lights off but leaving his surveillance equipment on.

Meanwhile, you yawned, closing your eyes and letting your phone slip next to you. Finally but reluctantly drifting off to sleep.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc montgomery

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chrrywvea · 1 year ago

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a serotonin boost for today:

✨️imagine married lokius at a christmas market✨️

(or: my brain going haywire at 4 am for these two idiots & leaving me with this half fic half imagine-ramble-story thing)

mobius obsessing over all the little trinket shops

like immediately upon their arrival, he's over the moon

loki detests all the masses of people but nearly melts when he sees how mobius lights up

he does enjoy it later on as well, very much even

sharing mulled wine

butterfly kisses & red cheeks (loki i'm looking at you)

mobius wears the scarf loki made for him for his birthday (personal hc of mine: loki can crochet & knit insanely well)

mistletoes, so many mistletoes

snowflakes in loki's curls make him look even more mesmerising (mobius stop staring please)

mobius gets fairy lights for their apartment

loki shields his tiny husband from all the people bumping into everyone (inspo from the cutest gay couple i saw at the christmas market yesterday thanks guys♡)

they try out all the different food stands together

(since christmas markets tend to have lots of nordic food loki gets to teach mobius about his favourite dishes at home when he was a child)

mobius loves listening to loki anyway, no matter the topic, but hearing him speak so freely of the good aspects of his childhood always warms his heart

they search more quiet spots for breaks when they both get a little overwhelmed

loki sings (though this time only for his husband)

holding hands in each others coat pockets & hand kisses to warm cold skin up

beanies

they try on all the beanies in the whole market (mobius puts them on loki who eventually just surrenders to it)

in the end loki buys them real silly, matching ones (if any artists want to draw this, by all means, go ahead! i'd love that so much but i have zero talent when it comes to drawing)

loki drags mobius to the ice rink, the only thing he's weary of since he's never been ice skating before - but loki is there to help!

he's a pro at it, frosty heritage and stuff

yes i believe frost giants can ice skate really well shush

lots of laughter and banter ensue with mobius attempting to stay upright

the waist hold™ is now reversed to prevent mobius from falling on his butt

but honestly they were gonna be close anyway so

touchy touchy

mobius gets the hang of the whole ice skating ordeal and loki cheers him on when he manages one round around the rink on his own

though he completely rams into loki's back upon his return

when they tire out after a while they get more food, sit around one of the nearby bonfires and cuddle

star gazing when it gets dark & planning for christmas eve

they both sneakily buy gifts for one another when the other's busy with something

mobius gets a little tipsy

too many samples at the liquor shops oops

+ i might add more if anyone likes this but this is what came out for now, enjoy :-D

#lokius #loki #loki laufeyson #mobius #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #loki series #loki season two #some cuteness between all the angst #let's just ignore the question of how they even got there #i'm just gonna say date night and that's it #i've been trying to write complete fics for months but i only ever get tons of ideas when i write stuff like this #oof lol #i'd love to hear your lokius thoughts #or any additions too!♡#messy tags #writer is going through a heavy case of dysphoria rn #so what do we do?#rewatch our fav queer and/or queer coded tv shows

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manwrre · 1 year ago

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head canon is neurodivergent steve kinda being a jack of all trades when it comes to anything remotely physical or like hands on (cmon, we’ve seen him twirl the bat). like, he’s got a lot of little niche interests and hobbies or skills because he gets bored a lot and goes through these little phases of hyperfixation when it comes to this stuff.

like, he’s got a green thumb??? his nonna (because head canon steve is a sweet little italian boy, sue me) always told him that fresher herbs were better for cooking and obviously, he cooks his own meals. so he makes the decision to start a kitchen garden and bro is a NATURAL. i’m talking rosemary, oregano, parsley, thyme, basil and freaking tomatoes for the heck of it.

or like, he once watched a segment on ‘the perfect conditions for growing strawberries’ and he couldn’t get it out of his head. he was up for the challenge?? visited the library and got a million books, bought the soil and equipment and kept them warm in the winter like they were his BABIES. and they were freaking delicious so obviously, he learnt how to make jam outta them.

he’s also crazy good at shit like draughts?? so he’s got a massive board and he plays against himself routinely. he plans on moving unto chess eventually but he hasn’t beat himself yet! all of his games keep coming to a draw.

he definitely knits and freaking crochets. he found a box of needles in the attic one time and some material and tried his hand at it. it took him a week or two but he knows about three different types of stitches at least!! and knitted himself some fingerless gloves last winter.

above all else though, he’s learnt how to play like two instruments—“and the triangle! she matters, she has feelings.” his parents had bought him a bunch of instruments as a kid, hoping that he’d have some inclination towards the arts so they could boast about it but he wasn’t really interested. he realized he hated the acoustic guitar so he got an electric one, which suits him sm better AND he can play the drums. but he likes to learn the hardest solos or nothing fr because he’s competitive

bonus points if steve underplays his interests when he’s dating billy because his parents can’t get him to shut up fast enough about ‘em. but the more billy comes over, the more he notices all of the little knickknacks just laying around ie. steve’s collection of mini whittled animals or his draught board laid out because he got stumped mid-game or the amps beneath his bed. and he’ll ask about them!! he’ll think it’s so freaking cool and let steve rant and babble about them for hours.

he’ll taste test all of his new recipes and learn draughts so he can kick steve’s ass and listen to new songs or instrumentals that he learns. like, there’s no way he won’t get wrapped up into his new interests with him and make it their thing.

#neurodivergent steve harrington #steve harrington #harringrove #billy hargrove #writing #head canon #soft steve harrington #boys in love #autistic steve harrington #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove blurb #steve harrington writing

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pastelitey · 1 year ago

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Solidaritek: Keep You Warm

It's the holidays and between Christmas parties with friends and working through the painfully slow process of moving in together, Jimmy is finally ready to say "I love you" to Tango for the first time. If only he could find the right moment to do it. word count: 6811 pairings: Jimmy/Tango, Implied!Grian/Scar tags: Modern AU, Christmas, Christmas party, Mistletoe, Domestic fluff [ao3 link]

When the holidays arrive, Jimmy and Tango are in the middle of moving in together. They’re eagerly waiting for Tango’s lease to be up in January, and have been steadily moving things from his apartment to Jimmy’s in the meantime. The living room is filled with more moving boxes than Christmas decorations at this point, but neither of them are complaining. With every passing day it becomes more real that they’re actually doing this, that after a certain point Tango will stop ‘spending the night’ and will actually start to call Jimmy’s space his own. It makes Jimmy a little dizzy when he thinks about it.

Jimmy gets home a little after five o’clock on Christmas Eve and immediately gets to work. He pulls ingredients out of the fridge and the cupboards to make soup. While he’s never considered himself a great cook, when compared with Tango’s abilities, he looks like he belongs in a professional kitchen somewhere in Paris. So he ends up cooking most days, but he really doesn’t mind.

While he waits for the stock to heat up on the stove he begins rearranging the boxes in the living room, something he really should have done earlier. Some of Tango’s stuff is already interspersed with Jimmy’s within the apartment, but the majority of it is still stuffed into cardboard boxes to be taken care of at a later date. Tango keeps assuring Jimmy that he’ll get around to it eventually, but every time he comes over to get started on it he ends up distracted by something or other.

As Jimmy’s stirring all the ingredients together in the pot he hears keys jangle in the door. It brings a smile to his face, reminding him of the day not so long ago when he’d given Tango the spare key. Tango’s grin at that moment was like a million suns shining all at once, and Jimmy never wanted to look away.

Tango enters the apartment like he always does; in a whirlwind. He’s muttering something under his breath, keys jangling violently before he throws them on the counter. Jimmy looks over his shoulder, smiling fondly at the man as he kicks the door closed, arms filled with a comically oversized paper grocery bag. He kicks off his shoes and when he sees Jimmy looking, greets him with a smile that never fails to take Jimmy’s breath away.

“Hi, Jim!” Tango says chipperly. He sets the paper bag down on the counter and races around the island to greet him properly, with a kiss. Jimmy steps away from the burner right before Tango barrels into him, latching onto him and kissing the corner of Jimmy’s mouth.

Jimmy’s heart swells as Tango pulls away, arms still wrapped around him. “Hi,” he says back, eyes raking over Tango now that he’s up close. He’s wearing his puffy winter coat that Jimmy always jokes makes him look like a penguin, complete with a fine layer of snow dusted across his shoulders. His nose and cheeks are tinged red from the cold, making him look all the more cuddly. And to top it all off, he’s wearing the terrible beanie Jimmy crocheted for him during his phase of thinking crochet was his new big thing. Needless to say, it absolutely was not, but Tango still wears the black and red beanie religiously.

Jimmy’s heart swells and he wants to say it, to tell Tango right now about the feelings that he’s finally accepted. But Tango pulls away as quickly as he sprang into Jimmy’s arms, and the chance is lost. But that’s okay, Jimmy decides, because when he couldn’t sleep the other night because of it he came to the conclusion that when he was going to tell Tango it needed to be during a special moment. And while practically every moment with Tango is special, Jimmy wants to be able to look back on it fondly instead of cringing at his past self for saying it in the middle of the kitchen.

“Let me take my stuff off and then I’ll help you!” Tango says, already unzipping his coat as he prances towards the bedroom. Jimmy smiles, watching him as he goes, before turning back to the pot on the stove. He’s still smiling to himself like a fool, replaying the moment where he almost said it over and over.

Tango reappears a minute later once his layers have been shucked off, dressed in a simple red sweater and the cargo pants he’s determined are still in good shape. Jimmy puts the lid over the pot and follows Tango over to the island where the paper bag sits.

“Did you get the bread?” Jimmy asks, peering into the contents of the bag. It’s snatched out of view almost immediately by a wide-eyed Tango, who rifles through it and pulls out a smaller, plastic bag. He shoves it behind his back with a cheshire grin, replacing the paper bag on the counter.

“I haven’t wrapped your present yet!” Tango explains, inching his way back towards the bedroom, positioned so that Jimmy can’t see behind him. Once close enough, he dashes into the room, certainly to hide the gift out of sight. Jimmy rolls his eyes fondly and turns back to the paper bag, head swimming with adoration for the man.

They eat their dinner and talk about their days with that yuletide log youtube video looping in the background. Tango got off work early to do some last-minute shopping for his secret santa gift for tomorrow, which Jimmy has been on his case for for the past two weeks. He’s sympathetic when Tango describes how busy the shops were, but ultimately it was worth it when Tango found the perfect item for his secret santa. Although they’ve agreed to keep their secret santa’s identities secret, Jimmy is fairly certain that Tango’s is Grian, based solely off of the fact that it took him so long to even come up with an idea for what to get them.

When their dinner is finished, Tango makes them hot chocolate(one of the only things Jimmy trusts Tango not to burn) and they settle on the couch to watch a cheesy Christmas movie Jimmy loved when he was a kid. The entire time they’re watching he keeps assuring Tango it was better when he was ten years old, which only makes the other man cackle and curl into Jimmy’s side even more. It’s moments like these that are so immensely precious to Jimmy, and he knows he wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

When the movie is over Jimmy decides it’s time for bed. Tango wants to stay up but Jimmy can see the dark circles growing under his eyes and forces him into some pajamas so they can get to sleep. Most of Tango’s pajamas consist of Jimmy’s casual clothes, which he really doesn’t mind, especially since he likes seeing Tango in his things.

They tuck themselves into bed and even though the bed is big enough for them both to sleep comfortably on their own sides, Tango always insists on curling up to Jimmy like a clingy cat. Jimmy watches the snow fall outside through the window as Tango gets comfy, running his hand absentmindedly through Tango’s hair as he begins to still on top of Jimmy’s chest.

“G’night,” Tango says, his voice rumbly against Jimmy’s diaphragm.

Jimmy smiles, pressing a kiss against Tango’s head as best he can at the awkward angle. “Goodnight.” Another set of words hang on the edge of Jimmy’s tongue, ready to catapult themselves into the space between the two of them and possibly disrupt everything. Maybe right now, curled up in bed with Tango’s head on Jimmy’s chest on Christmas Eve, it would be the perfect time to say it. Years down the line they could reminisce on Jimmy’s perfect timing and laugh fondly about it.

But he takes too long to think about it and Tango is already out like a light, snoring softly. Jimmy shakes his head affectionately at the other man, pulling him closer and closing his eyes, thinking I love you as sleep whisks him away.

~ ~ ~

When the morning arrives and Jimmy wakes up, it’s to the early morning winter light filtering in through the window and to the smell of something delicious wafting in through the open bedroom door. Jimmy stretches his arms as he registers Tango is not in bed, and begins wondering what Tango is up to in the kitchen. He doesn’t smell anything burning yet, so there’s still hope.

When he peels himself out of the warm bed, he puts on his bunny slippers(a gift from Tango once the weather started turning) and carefully makes his way to the kitchen. He tries to make his steps as loud as possible, knowing how easily Tango can startle when he’s focused on something. Thankfully as soon as he rounds the corner Tango is greeting him with that gorgeous smile of his and some sort of frosting or food coloring on his face.

“Morning!” Tango greets cheerfully. “I’m making pancakes!”

Jimmy hums softly, walking over and surveying the accumulating mess on the counters and stovetop. “So that’s what I could smell.” He plants a kiss on Tango’s cheek, nuzzling into him and enjoying his warmth.

“Don’t worry, I have the stove turned down so I don’t burn them this time.” Tango flips an artificially colored green pancake onto the only Christmas themed plate Jimmy owns, holding it up to Jimmy. “Look, Christmas trees!”

Jimmy looks down at the unfortunately shaped blob that kind of resembles a tree, more in color than shape. Jimmy can’t help but crack a smile, but manages to hold back a laugh.

“Is that what it’s supposed to be?”

Tango rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah! I also made some in the shape of stockings, but they look more like candy canes, just without the stripes.” He dances off to the island with the plate in hand, where he adds the Christmas tree pancake to a growing pile of the breakfast treats. Jimmy has to admit that Tango is decent at making pancakes, for whatever reason. Even if he makes a mess of the kitchen while doing so, Jimmy has no reservations against allowing Tango to take the reins when he decides he wants pancakes.

He turns off the burner when Tango forgets to and they clean up the mess of pancake batter and food dye together. Tango makes Jimmy admire his pancake creations before they eat them, and Jimmy has to give praise to each individual pancake before they can even take the syrup out of the cupboard. It’s worth it, in the end, when Tango kisses Jimmy as a little prize and Jimmy feels like he’s floating.

He wipes the pancake batter and flour off of Tango’s chin after some resistance and he feels the words rise up in his throat again, but manages to keep them down.

After they eat their Christmas themed pancakes, Jimmy has to brush his teeth feverishly to get some of the food dye off, and then after that it’s time for presents.

Jimmy is quite proud of his present for Tango. He’d been planning it for a while, as he first saw Tango ogling it through a shop window back at the beginning of September. It’s a multi-tool kit with lots of bits and bobs that Jimmy is sure would come in handy with some of Tango’s projects that he likes to work on. He even made sure he got the red one, Tango’s favorite color. He bought one of those little gift boxes people usually put jewelry in with a little custom tag and he even googled a calligraphy website to put Tango’s name on it and make it extra special.

It’s all worth it, too, because when Tango opens the box he practically starts bouncing off the walls. Jimmy’s face is peppered with kisses and he gets to hear Tango’s little ramblings about how much he loves it, which makes Jimmy only grow more affectionate for him. Thankfully before he can even start to consider telling Tango the thing he’s been dying to tell him, Tango is shoving his gift into Jimmy’s lap.

Giddy, Jimmy opens the gift bag and pulls out an immense amount of tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag, wrapped in one last layer of tissue paper, is a fuzzy, blue and red sweater. Jimmy smiles as he holds it up, but the smile disappears once he sees what’s on the front of it.

“It’s Captain America!” Tango says, snickering to himself.

Jimmy gives Tango an unimpressed look. “I can see that.”

As Tango begins laughing, Jimmy just shakes his head affectionately. It really is a nice sweater, save for the tacky image of the patriotic superhero that’s stuck to the front of it. He begins wondering if he can use a pair of scissors or something to take it off, but then Tango might be upset, so he better not.

“Did you just buy this for me so you can steal it from me?” Jimmy asks with a raised eyebrow. Tango knows that Jimmy loves his sweaters, but Jimmy knows that Tango loves to steal said sweaters.

Tango, looking quite pleased with himself, shakes his head. “No, actually.” He pulls something out from behind his back, and soon Jimmy is gaping at the red and yellow sweater displayed before him. “I got a matching one for myself!”

Tango’s sweater has Iron Man plastered on the middle of it instead of Captain America, but the pattern is the same. Jimmy puts his head in his hands as Tango laughs, but at least he’s enjoying himself.

“I can’t believe you,” Jimmy says, face flushing a deep red color. He never should have told Tango about the Captain America knock-off avatar he used for all the old games he used to play.

“I figured we could wear them to the party, so everyone knows we came together!” Tango explains with a grin, already pulling his sweater over top of his pajama shirt.

Jimmy pouts at Tango goodnaturedly. “Everyone already knows we’re coming together.”

“Please?” Tango says, leaning close with his hands clasped in front of him.

Jimmy looks over his sweater one last time and rolls his eyes. “Of course I’m going to wear it.” He gives Tango a quick peck on the lips, holding the sweater close to his chest. “Thank you.”

It hadn’t been what he was expecting, but it really is sweet. Jimmy could care less about the worth or practicality of whatever gift he received, all that mattered to Jimmy was the thought behind it. And yeah, it would certainly be embarrassing to wear to the Christmas party, but at least Tango would be wearing a matching one beside him.

And just the thought of matching with Tango—visually showing off to all their friends that they’re together—makes Jimmy happier than ever.

~ ~ ~

Thanks to the terrible traffic and the winter roads, Jimmy and Tango end up being some of the last few people to arrive at the party. After finding a parking spot, Jimmy carries the sweet potato casserole he cooked up while Tango’s in charge of carrying the secret santa gifts. The sun is already going down as they approach the front door, warm lighting emanating from the windows of Grian’s home. Thankfully the walkway has been cleared so they make it to the front door in one piece.

Just as Jimmy raises a hand to knock on the door, it swings open and someone plucks the glass pan right out of his arms. “Thank you!” Grian cheers with a devilish grin, before slamming the door on them. Jimmy takes a second to comprehend what just happened as he hears Grian shout about the arrival of the sweet potatoes followed by hearty laughter from the other partygoers.

“Did he just do what I think he just did?” Tango says, giggling despite Jimmy’s unimpressed expression.

“He did,” Jimmy grits out. He knocks on the door properly this time, despite not hearing Grian lock it behind himself. Jimmy imagines Grian must be getting a kick out of himself right now.

When the door opens the second time, Scar is standing in the doorway. “Well hello there! Glad to see you two could finally make it!” He ushers them inside the warm house and Jimmy is immediately overwhelmed by the smell of good food ruminating throughout the place.

“Thanks for letting us in!” Jimmy says with a shake of his head, pulling off his coat before helping Tango to do the same.

“Not a problem!” Scar says with an easy smile. Jimmy feels slightly less silly about what he and Tango are wearing when he sees the obnoxiously bright Christmas cat sweater Scar is currently donning, complete with little blinking lights and golden pom-poms. He looks like a walking Christmas tree that someone’s got their cat stuck in.

“Where’s the gift table?” Tango asks, spinning around as they survey the unfolding festivities. It seems like everyone else has arrived already, with Cleo, Ren and Martyn gossiping on one end of the couch, Gem and Bdubs fighting over control of the speaker and what Christmas song to play, Joel and Lizzie splayed out on the carpet and playing with the dog—wait, whose dog is that?—and even more voices coming from the kitchen.

“Gift table is in the dining room, I can take them for—Oh. My. Gosh.” Scar’s jaw drops and his eyes physically light up, and it takes Jimmy a second to register what’s going on. “Are those Marvel Christmas sweaters I see?”

Tango beams with pride. “Mm-hm! Check them out!”

Jimmy tries not to die of embarrassment as Scar oohs and ahs at their sweaters. Tango, on the other hand, seems very pleased with himself and is currently getting a kick out of how red Jimmy’s face is right now.

“Those are absolutely amayzin’!” Scar’s grin quickly melts into a pout. “I wish Grian would have done matching sweaters with me.”

“Speaking of Grian!” Jimmy says, peeking around Scar and towards the kitchen. “I need to figure out what he did with our potatoes!” He ducks around Scar but when he turns to ask Tango if he’s coming, Scar already has an arm slung around his shoulder and is pestering him about his favorite Iron Man movie. He decides to leave Tango to it as payback for making them wear the ridiculous sweaters in the first place. Tango should have known Scar was going to lose his mind over them.

Unlike Jimmy’s apartment, Grian’s house is decorated head-to-toe with Christmas paraphernalia. There’s a tree set up in practically every room, festive wall hangings strung about and those little Christmas village figurines decorating every available surface. Jimmy makes sure to keep an eye above him every time he passes under a doorway just in case Grian decided to break out the mistletoe again.

For every single holiday season that Jimmy has known Grian, he’s always thrown parties for them and their friends to celebrate. And Grian, being the cheeky little prankster he is, used to hang up a fake mistletoe in a random doorway and not tell people about it until two people were under it. He loved watching everyone awkwardly dart around it the whole time and calling people out if they wound up under it with another person, to everyone else’s dismay. But the fun came to an end when last year Grian and Scar wound up under it and he immediately ripped it off and declared there would be ‘no more mistletoe’. So even though Jimmy has no idea if Grian put it back up this year, he’s going to keep being cautious about it.

When Jimmy gets to the kitchen it’s bustling with activity. Skizz and BigB are at the counter sneaking popcorn and chocolates out of the treat bowls while Impulse tries to fend them off, claiming they’ll ‘ruin their appetites’, while Pearl and Mumbo are helping Grian get everything set up for dinner.

Mumbo is the first to spot Jimmy, greeting him with a smile. “Jimmy! Welcome in, bud.”

“Hi Jimmy!” Pearl says, running from one end of the kitchen to the other with a steaming tray in hand.

Grian narrows his gaze at Jimmy from over his shoulder. “Alright, who let this guy in?”

“You invited me,” Jimmy says, planting his hands on his hips. “Now what have you done with my potatoes?”

“Oh, are those yours?” Mumbo says, looking down at the exact dish Jimmy just had stolen from him two minutes ago. “I was wondering where they came from.”

Jimmy huffs. “He just took my potatoes and left me on the doorstep, shivering in the cold!”

Pearl gasps, affronted. “Grian, how could you do that to poor Jimmy?”

“You can’t just make off with someone else’s potatoes, G,” Mumbo says, shaking his head.

Grian rolls his eyes as he dusts off his hands. “I did nothing of the sort—what on earth are you wearing?”

All eyes turn to Jimmy and he feels the room gets ten times warmer.

“That’s… definitely something,” Mumbo says.

Jimmy crosses his arms against his chest, attempting to hide the decal of Captain America. “It’s just a sweater, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tango’s got a matching one.” Jimmy spins around to see Joel standing just behind him, looking smug as he eats directly from a bag of chex cereal.

“Joel!” Pearl cries, snatching the bag of cereal out of his hands. “Those are for the muddy buddies!”

Grian starts giggling which only makes Jimmy’s face heat up even more. “Oh, this I’ve got to see!” He darts out of the kitchen before Jimmy can stop him, telling Pearl to keep an eye on the oven for him.

“Oh my gosh, this is so embarrassing,” Jimmy says, hiding his face behind his hands.

Mumbo pats him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, mate! You should have seen the sweater Scar tried to get Grian to wear.” That does not make Jimmy feel any better, seeing as Grian isn’t wearing the silly sweater but Jimmy is.

Despite the fact that Jimmy is wearing the sweater for Tango, he still feels properly flustered about it, especially upon seeing everyone else’s reaction to it.

Impulse walks into the kitchen balancing multiple different bowls of snacks, probably to get them away from Skizz and BigB. He lights up when he sees Jimmy’s sweater. “Hey, I’m glad I’m not the only one who wore a silly Christmas sweater!” Impulse’s is a more classic Christmas sweater, complete with Santa’s sleigh and the eight reindeer, but it’s not nearly as absurd as Jimmy’s.

Joel snickers and Jimmy has half a mind to slap his hand over his friend’s mouth. “You should see the one Tango’s got on, Impulse.”

“Oh?” Impulse says, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“What’s Top wearing?” Skizz asks, popping his head into the kitchen.

“Joel!” Jimmy groans as the two dart off, surely to find Tango so they can pick on Jimmy even more. Jimmy turns and glowers at Joel, who just shrugs in response. “You are the absolute worst.”

Joel grabs a chocolate out of the snack bowl Impulse has newly relocated. “You make it too easy, sometimes, Jim.” Jimmy tries to pretend he’s not listening by watching Pearl stir the soup on top of the stove. “You must really love him if you’re willing to wear that stupid sweater for him.”

Jimmy stiffens up at that. Out of all the things Joel could have said, why that? He can’t have known about Jimmy’s internal struggle with that exact word, right?

Jimmy just deflects from Joel’s statement and attempts to busy himself by helping with the dinner preparations, deciding that it’s going to be a long night.

~ ~ ~

Once everyone else has gotten over the hysterics of Jimmy and Tango’s matching sweaters, the party goes pretty smoothly. They have dinner and there’s barely enough room for them all at the table because of how much food there is, and because Grian’s table was certainly not meant for so many people to be eating at. But it’s nice and cozy even when they’re all squished up next to each other. Jimmy’s sweet potatoes seem to be a big hit, even if Joel and Grian keep denying that they were Jimmy’s doing.

After that it’s time for secret santa presents and Jimmy sits on one end of the couch with Tango pressed into his side. He hadn’t expected it to take so long to go around the circle and dish out all the presents, but considering how many of them were involved in it, he decides that he should have seen it coming. Gem gifts Jimmy an adorable cat calendar and Ren seems to be a big fan of the retro aviators that Jimmy thrifted for him. And Jimmy was correct in assuming Tango had Grian, and Grian’s reaction to the gag gift is absolutely priceless.

There’s a bit of downtime before the next activity wherein Impulse and Skizz attempt to convince Jimmy to come play hockey with them. Normally Jimmy would be happy to come along to an activity with some of Tango’s friends, but he’s seen how these guys play hockey, and it’s no joke. Jimmy came along to watch one of Tango’s last games and he swears he’s never seen the three friends ever get so competitive. But he has to admit, Tango does look good when he plays. Really good. So maybe it’s not a good idea for him to join them, he might just get too distracted by his boyfriend and make them lose the game.

“What were you guys talking about?” Tango asks as he rejoins Jimmy a few minutes later, holding two glasses of sparkling cider. He offers one to Jimmy who takes it gratefully and tries not to get lost in Tango’s eyes before he can answer his question.

Jimmy shrugs and raises his glass. “Oh, nothing. They just were trying to get me to join you guys at hockey.”

Tango’s eyes light up and Jimmy already knows he’s a doomed man. “Oh, Jimmy! You totally should, it would be so much fun!”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I dunno, Tango, I don’t think I’m a hockey guy.” It’s true, but it’s also because his infatuation with Tango will be a huge detriment to the both of them. And he’d never hear the end of it from Tango and their friends if something like that happened while they were on the ice.

“Timmy playing hockey? Now I’d like to see that!” Martyn chuckles as he walks by, a plate of apple pie in hand.

“Martyn’s just jealous ‘cause you’d beat him,” Tango says, voice lowered as he snakes a hand up Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy’s head goes fuzzy as he feels those words dancing on the tip of his tongue again.

Martyn blows a raspberry as he walks away to join a conversation with Scott. “Not a chance, Captain!”

“Get a room, you two,” Scott says with a self-satisfied smirk. Jimmy shakes his head as Tango pulls away from him, frowning. They both know it’s only playful joking, but sometimes it is bothersome when their friends ruin a moment.

Jimmy pats Tango’s shoulder. “How about some apple pie, huh?”

The glimmer returns to Tango’s expression. “Ooh, yes please!”

“Be right back!” Jimmy hands his glass to Tango and makes his way to the kitchen, passing by Cleo and Etho who are cooing over the dog in Pearl’s arms—must be Pearl’s dog, then. Lizzie and Joel are in the kitchen already, sampling the different desserts that have been provided. Jimmy keeps his eyes for the apple pie that he’d seen on Martyn’s plate, only he doesn’t spot it amongst the puddings and plates of cookies.

“Right, who ate all the apple pie?” Jimmy says, going as far as to open the fridge to check for it.

Lizzie looks around with her lips pressed into a thin line. “It looks like it disappeared! I think we need a real hero to figure out who took it!”

Jimmy shakes his head. “Right.” He grabs two paper plates and puts a cookie on each of them, making his way back out to the living room to Tango, only to find everyone grouped up and laughing about something. Jimmy almost wonders if he’s going to find out he’s the butt of another joke, until he realizes that Grian seems to be at the middle of all the fun.

When Jimmy gets up to the clumping of people, he finally gets a look at what they’re all laughing about. Grian’s face is just about as red as the fuzzy sweater he’s suddenly sporting, complete with little photorealistic cats decorating a Christmas tree with working, blinking lights. Scar stands just off to the side in his similar sweater, absolutely beaming.

“Aw, Grian!” Jimmy coos, “you look so cute!”

Grian crosses his arms across his chest, possibly to hide the ugly sweater. “This is all your fault, Tim!”

Scar slides an arm around Grian’s shoulder so that they’re side by side and their sweaters can be admired as they were meant to be—together. “Don’t we look wonderful, Grian? I’m so glad you finally agreed to wear the sweater!”

“Oh, me too!” Pearl says, brandishing her phone and snapping plenty of pictures. Grian tries to grab the phone out of her grasp but she dances away in time, and so begins a stand-off between the two. Jimmy steps away from the chaos, desperately attempting not to drop the frosted cookies onto the nice, clean carpet.

“Told you it wouldn’t be so bad.” Tango takes one of the plates from Jimmy and smiles up at him before taking a bite, keeping eye contact with Jimmy the whole time.

Jimmy wraps an arm around Tango’s side and pulls him close, all the while watching Grian try to unlock Pearl’s phone to distract himself from saying something prematurely. “I guess not.”

It was worth wearing the silly Captain America sweater to see Grian get his own comeuppance, but that doesn’t matter to Jimmy in the long run. It’s making Tango happy, so what’s the harm there?

~ ~ ~

When the party begins fizzling out and people start heading home for the night, Jimmy and Tango offer to stay behind and help clean up. Jimmy doesn’t really mind all that much, and it seems like Grian appreciates the help.

“This thing is so itchy,” Grian complains, scratching at his arms and sides through his sweater. “I don’t know how Scar puts up with it.”

Jimmy shrugs, scrubbing the food grime off the last plate in the sink. “Have you considered that maybe it’s ‘cause he wanted to match with you?”

Grian goes quiet so Jimmy glances at him from over his shoulder. The dirty-blonde has gone still at the other end of the counter, wet rag in hand and a contemplative look on his face.

“I can’t see why he’d want to do that.” Grian shakes his head in disbelief. “Maybe he just enjoys looking ridiculous.”

Jimmy dries off his hands and gives a hearty sigh. He can try and help Grian get over some of the embarrassment related to the cat sweater, but he can’t coach Grian through realizing some of the unspoken feelings between him and Scar. It seems to be obvious to everyone but the two of them, so much so that Jimmy has even caught wind of Scott and Martyn making bets on how long it will be before one of them breaks.

“Anything else you need help with?” Jimmy asks, surveying the freshly cleaned kitchen. The dishes are done, the counters are wiped off and the leftovers have already been divvied up, so it seems like the kitchen may be good-to-go.

“You can see if Joel and Lizzie want some help taking down the decorations in the entryway,” Grian offers. Jimmy nods and heads off to the entryway, a bit baffled at how quickly Grian is to take down all the festive decorations. He’s always been a firm believer in leaving them up at least until New Years.

But Joel and Lizzie have the decorations in the entrance handled, and Scar and Mumbo are almost done with cleaning up the dining room, so it appears that it might be time for Jimmy to head home. He just has to find Tango, first, since he hasn’t seen the man since he started helping Grian in the kitchen.

He’s making sure he’s got all his things together when Tango comes into the living room, rather excitably, telling from the grin on his face.

“Jimmy!” Tango says cheerfully. It makes Jimmy’s heart throb with how excited he gets seeing Jimmy, even though they see each other practically everyday.

“Everything is all cleaned up,” Jimmy says, grabbing his coat. “You about ready to go?”

Tango rushes forward and grabs Jimmy’s coat from him. “Hold that thought! There’s something I want to show you.”

Jimmy quirks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

That’s all he gets to say before Tango’s dragging him through the house. Jimmy isn’t paying much attention to where they’re going, mostly baffled at Tango’s behavior. It’s not until they get to the hallway that Jimmy knows leads to the basement where Tango finally stops. He doesn’t bother to turn the light on, just looking up at Jimmy with a cheshire grin.

“You gonna tell me what we’re doing in this corner of the house?” Jimmy asks, looking to his left and right for an indicator to explain Tango’s strange behavior.

Tango just giggles in response, before taking a step closer to Jimmy and pointing upwards.

It hits Jimmy before he even looks up and sees the plastic plant tacked up on the ceiling.

“Holy moly.” Jimmy hides his face in his hands as Tango’s giggles become louder and more delighted. “I completely forgot about the mistletoe after everything that’s been happening tonight!”

“I’ve been looking for it all night!”

He pulls his hands away from his face, jaw slack with surprise. “I thought Grian swore he wasn’t going to put it up after what happened last year?”

Tango shrugs. “Guess he changed his mind.”

“That would explain why he put it in such a hidden location.”

Tango hums, looking up at Jimmy with a coy smile. “Still waiting on that kiss.”

Jimmy smiles, already leaning in. “Right.”

His eyes flutter shut instantly, their lips meeting with a practiced ease. Jimmy relishes in the feeling of finally having a private moment with Tango. Away from prying eyes, he allows himself to melt into Tango’s embrace, adjusting the angle of his head as Tango’s hand cups the back of his neck.

Jimmy can’t help but smile into the kiss, his hands instinctively framing either side of Tango’s waist. His thumbs travel below the hemline of Tango’s Iron Man sweater and press against his skin, which elicits a huffy laugh out of Tango at the sensation. Jimmy’s heart soars the longer the kiss goes on, the gentle yet firm slide of lips making his head swim with affection.

All Jimmy can think right now is I love you, I love you, I love you. He might just implode on himself if he holds it in any longer, so he makes up his mind—he’s going to say it right now.

Tango laughs affectionately when they part, his warm breath ghosting over Jimmy’s lips and sending shivers down his spine. Tango’s thumb traces the curve of Jimmy’s cheekbone delicately and the most accurate way he can describe how Tango is looking at him right now is as if Jimmy hung the moon and the stars for him. Jimmy is absolutely, positively smitten.

He loosens his grip on Tango’s waist and opens his mouth to finally say it, but someone else turns the corner before he can form the words.

“Hey Jim, Grian wants you to take home some of that fruitcake Cleo brought—” Joel freezes once he realizes he’s walked in on them, and Jimmy levels him with an unimpressed look. But Joel doesn’t even begin to muster out an apology, because once he spots the decor in the doorway above them, he’s running off to tell Grian that someone finally found the mistletoe.

Tango groans, canting forward and burying his face in Jimmy’s chest. “We can’t have one moment without being interrupted, can we?” He looks back up at Jimmy with that signature smile of his and Jimmy absolutely melts.

“I love you,” he says before he can stop himself. The words slip past his teeth easily, like second nature. They’re monumental and carry so much weight, yet Jimmy doesn’t shy away from the admission. He’s been dying to tell Tango this for so long that finally getting it out there is a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Tango’s chest rumbles against Jimmy's with the soft murmur of a laugh. “I love you, too.”

Tango goes to kiss Jimmy again but Jimmy stops him, gently pushing on his chest to put some space between them. Tango looks up at him with a sudden confusion painted on his expression, but Jimmy just stares at him.

“No, Tango,” he says, insistent, “I love you.” He says it more forcefully this time, like it will make Tango understand that he really, truly means it.

Tango cocks his head, brow still furrowed like he doesn’t know what Jimmy’s playing at. “Yeah, and I love you, too.”

Jimmy stares, slack-jawed and mortified. “That's not— I don’t—” He groans in frustration, burying his reddening face in his hands. Why is Tango acting so nonchalant about this? It’s a huge deal to Jimmy!

“What? What’s the face for?” Tango asks, worry wrought in his tone. He gently places his hands on Jimmy’s arms and it only makes the affection Jimmy holds for him grow.

Jimmy huffs, pulling his hands away from his face yet avoiding Tango’s gaze. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that all day, working myself up to it and finding the perfect moment and—” He shrugs flippantly, feeling his face become warmer and warmer. When he looks at Tango, his hands are over his mouth and his eyes are wide in shock, like he’s realized what he’s just done.

“Oh no,” Tango says with a giggle. “Really?” Jimmy nods, embarrassed out of his mind. Tango practically shrieks with laughter, coming closer and linking his hands behind Jimmy’s neck. “You’re adorable, Jimmy.” He goes up on his tip-toes and begins aggressively peppering Jimmy’s face with kisses.

Jimmy fights back the giggles but is ultimately unable to hold them back. “Stop it, stop it.” Tango starts giggling too and nearly loses his balance and knocks them both over, but Jimmy is able to right the both of them before they hit the floor. They’re only laughing harder now, and holding the other close. Jimmy revels in the closeness of their embrace, and the fact that he finally said it, and got a positive response. But, against his better nature, Jimmy doesn’t quite feel convinced just yet.

“You didn’t say it just because I did?” Jimmy asks, pulling away from the embrace so that he can look Tango in the eyes. “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I swear.”

Tango stares up at him with a blank expression. “Are you kidding?” he asks, deadpan. Jimmy shakes his head, genuinely worried for the answer. It comes in the form of Tango grabbing him by the side of his face and grinning from ear-to-ear. “I’m crazy about you! Hello? Matching sweaters, the mistletoe, the fact that we’re literally moving in together?”

Jimmy laughs as Tango jostles his cranium around. “Okay, okay! I got it.”

Tango smiles contentedly, hands now traveling down Jimmy’s chest. “And don’t you forget it.”

As if slotting into place, Jimmy ducks down and fits his lips against Tango’s. This kiss is gentle and slow, timed perfectly to the steady beating of Jimmy’s heart. He feels lighter, and his chest is filled with the warmth of knowing that he is loved by the very same man he is in love with. He grips the fabric of Tango’s sweater, smiling through the kiss at the romantic nature of their matching sweaters. They’re reminders that Jimmy will always have a piece of Tango with him, and the same for Tango.

Tango breaks the kiss just long enough to mumble against Jimmy’s lips, “I love you.”

And Jimmy smiles, heart full and more happy than in his wildest dreams. He pulls Tango as close to him as humanly possible, because he can never get enough of him. “I love you, too.”

#trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #fanfic #fic #my writing #mine #christmas #i love this fic so tumblr can have it too!

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takemetoyourl3ader · 2 months ago

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Hey if you want to get into diy, mainly sewing, or just want some tips you should totally read this awesome post 👽

sooo I see a lot of people on the internet who don’t really know where to start when it comes to stuff like this and im bored and want to yap so im making this post instead of doing my math homework!

DISCLAIMER: I am not saying that you absolutely have to follow these word for word, and I am not a master at diying/sewing/whatever else and there’s probably more efficient ways out there, so if there’s anything here that’s wrong or i should change, please lmk!

materials:

needle(s)+thread - for sewing (by hand!) usually these are dirt cheap at any craft store or the dollar store, or you can ask your friends/family for any they can give you. if you’re gonna buy some, any polyester thread will do. for needles, i recommend sharps because they’re great if your just starting out and for general use as well.

fabric - i started out on whatever fabric i had, google recommends cotton but if you don’t have that, it’s fine. to obtain said fabric, you can sacrifice some old clothes or ask around for unwanted clothes from people you know. thrift stores are also great, you can pick out a random shirt and cut it up

measuring tape - for measuring of course, great if you’re making clothes or tailoring them

seam ripper - change my life forever! way way easier than using scissors, saves a lot of time

fabric scissors - to cut fabric

fabric pencil - to mark your fabric for where you wanna cut/sew/anything else

box cutter - cutting boxes/cardboard, i also use these for paper to make stencils for patches. this is great for a lot of projects but scissors work just fine too!

YOU DONT ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO HAVE ALL OF THESE (except a needle and thread, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to sew) you can use whatever you have, these are just items that might make your life a little easier.

you don’t have to break bank on all the fancy stuff, whatever you can obtain works

how do i learn?:

the internet is your best friend, youtube tutorials help a bunch when you’re learning, as well as for learning how to do certain projects

maybe someone in your life likes to diy, you could ask them to teach you a couple things! my mom taught me how to sew, embroider, and crochet, learning from other people really helps!

and of course, practice! you don’t have to practice for hours everyday, just whenever you have time or whenever you feel motivated is fine! obviously you’re not going to be perfect immediately, I struggled a lot when I started but eventually you will get the hang of it. patience is key, don’t give up!

some basic stuff to learn: back stitch, running stitch, ladder stitch, blanket stitch

these are all some very common stitches that you will probably use at least once, they’re also pretty easy so i recommend starting with these

and that’s all I have as of right now! like I said, if there’s anything at all I should change/add/remove, let me know! i hope some people find this helpful, and have fun!

#diy tips #sewing #sewing tips #idk what to tag #hopefully people will see this and i wont look stupid #diy #sewing project #sewing things #tips for sewing #hand sewing #embriodery #yeah idk

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milkweedman · 2 years ago

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hi, sorry if this is something you've answered before, but how did you get started with spinning? and do you have an reccs for beginners? i'm not a fiber arts person (yet) but i think the skills are mind-blowingly cool. i have a few friends that are into crochet also and while i don't do so i think it would be nice to be able to make them yarn etc :)! thank u <3

Hi ! I got started with spinning about 5 years ago now--I ordered a turkish spindle and some andean highland wool from knitpicks, tried it out, and really sucked.

Like. really sucked. couldn't even make bad yarn bc it just kept falling apart (due to undertwisting ! if your yarn is falling apart in your hands, it's undertwisted. there, i just saved you about a month of misery, if you're me lol). Put it away for a while, tried again, was still bad at it, rinse and repeat for about a year. eventually something clicked and i started being able to make more than like, an armspan of yarn before it became disastrous.

not saying it's that hard for everyone (i've watched some people pick it up in like... 5 minutes), or that it'll be that hard for you ! that's just how it went with me.

I do have some recs for beginners which will hopefully help ! (i didn't have this community on tumblr at the time, and didn't know there were forums on ravelry, so i had no community help or knowledge, which did not work in my favor).

Get a basic drop spindle with a hook on the end, if you can. Drop spindles come in many different forms, but the two main categories are top whorl and bottom whorl (meaning, where the circular whorl is placed on the shaft of the spindle). top whorl spindles spin faster but for a shorter period of time and can be more unbalanced. bottom whorl spindles spin slower but for longer, and are typically more balanced (physics, idk). everyone has their own preferences--i tend to recommend bottom whorl spindles to beginners because it kind of slows the process down, which can be helpful. if you've got a little extra money, buying a top whorl and a bottom whorl spindle could be a good idea. they're pretty cheap on etsy, esp if you get a very plain and simple one and just decorate it yourself.

spindle weight matters a lot. the heavier the spindle, the thicker the resulting singles will be. (singles are what you spin first, then you ply them together if desired). the lighter the spindle, the thinner the singles. this means if you get a very heavy spindle and try to spin something fine on it, it'll likely snap under the weight. and if you try to spin something thick on a light spindle, you'll be constantly flicking it and not adding very much twist (so it may just fall apart into sad fluff). my favorite all-purpose spindle for yarns that won't be particularly thin weighs about 2 ounces (55 grams). that will be too heavy for fine yarns, but works well for making like, worsted weight 2 ply. i would recommend a spindle somewhere in the 1-2 ounce range (30-55 grams) for a basic beginner spindle. once you get the hang of it feel free to go for the very light spindles or the heavier plying spindles.

don't buy roving for your first fiber. almost everyone does that, and many people end up with really low quality (and sometimes even compressed or partially felted) roving. roving can be great for spinning once you know what you're doing, but it's kind of... uniquely unsuited for beginners, in my opinion anyway. firstly because it is the most common preparation, it's not really treated with care by many companies when it comes to storage (hence the compression or felting). secondly, it's really easy to felt it in your hands when you're doing the beginner sweaty-hands-deathgrip-drafting-with-all-your-might thing (i'll get to that later). thirdly, again because it's the most common prep, there's a thriving market of garbage shitty roving, and it takes a little experience telling the difference between decent stuff and garbage stuff based on an internet page. I would highly recommend spending a little bit more money on a batt. this is like a large pillow of carded wool, which you pull strips off of to spin. they are sold in a far less-compressed state (which makes for easier spinning) and are, as far as im aware, made by humans with experience, rather than machines.

the breed matters a lot when it comes to spinning. some breeds have finer, more slippery wool, and some have grabby wool. grabby wool is better for learning (it means less of your yarn just slipping apart and breaking). some good beginner breeds are shetland, corriedale, jacob, romney, or other similar wools. the fiber market is inundated with merino (either a great thing or a source of misery, depending on who you ask), which is not a particularly good beginner breed (it's definitely on the slippery, finer side).

once you've got all your materials, it's spinning time ! find a youtube tutorial or a written tutorial (check your library for books on spinning. i have no recommendations--i did not learn from books). you could also check and see if there's a spinner's guild in your area. it depends on the guild (some are kind of, uh... snooty, for lack of a better word ? most seem pretty friendly and happy to help newcomers) but you might be able to show up to a meeting and get some help. ideally get some practice with the spindle first though.

lastly, some tips for spinning. A) keep the fiber supply held loosely in your hand, or better yet, draped over your hand so that the fiber you're drafting is only held in your fingertips. if you hold it tightly you won't be able to draft evenly. you may also compress and/or felt it by holding it, especially if your hands are sweaty. B) try spinning using the 'park and draft' method while you are learning. this is where you add a bunch of extra twist to the already-spun yarn (or leader, for the first length), pinch the twist to hold it in place, and draft fiber, allowing the twist to travel up the wool as you draft it. this is a good technique for learning because it isolates the actions of spinning, letting you focus on one part at a time. trying to keep the spindle going while drafting when you're brand new is not easy, and can lead to a lot of frustration and mistakes. once you've got the hang of drafting, then it's a great time to figure out how to do it all at once. C) work slowly and thoughtfully while you learn. what you're doing at first is twofold: you're figuring out the process and what works and what doesn't, but you're also building muscle memory, which is what spinners (really, pretty much everyone who practices hand crafts or hand work of any kind) rely on. i can get high af and zone out and spin and end up with a usable (sometimes even pretty good) yarn, because even when my brain isn't working, my hands know what to do. this is not the case for someone without the muscle memory. pay attention, step away if you get frustrated, and work slowly. as you build muscle memory, it will become easier and easier. D) your first yarns don't have to be good. they don't even really have to be yarn, as such--if you ended up with something thats rope at one end and thread at another, that's ok ! you're learning ! the purpose of your first yarns is just to teach you how to spin. if they look like shit, it's ok. (mine looked awful, for the record ! i don't think i've seen anything quite as bad as my very first yarn, actually. wish i'd kept it though xD)

hope this was helpful ! there's also this post about how to tell if your yarn is under or over twisted, which might be of use, and this post about finishing your yarn as well. and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me or another spinner (the overwhelming majority of us are very happy to help a new spinner) for advice or help !

#i have answered this before but i couldn't find the post sadly #anyway yeah ! good luck ! i believe in you !#spinning #advice

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