#no I didn't do extreme double knitting for this

[inimitablereel]

Still pretty recognizable even in reverse

[crow-raven-crow]

This is a headcanon of mine that I have: Larissa likes crafting. She knows how to knit, crochet (she really loves making lace), cross stitch, and embroider. Cross stitching and embroidery are really special to her because she remembers her grandmother showing her how to do them.

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Larissa Weems x f!reader words: ~3.4 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF

𝐬���𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

masterlist ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

a/n: THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTEEEEEE

I def agree in the fact that she’s hella crafty. Miss ma’am has so much on her plate but when she has free time she can sometimes feel out of place when she isn’t doing anything with her hands so she crafts or reads instead - making her vocabulary extremely strong as well as her imagination and also building her patience.

this is so cute so here’s a little fluffy one-shot for you <3

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Larissa sat in her office as the sounds of chattering, excited students clamored away on their lunch outside her window. The warm sun made her skin glow under it's touch, her white hair becoming a halo to display the angel that ran it all. Her coat was draped over her shoulders, her arms close to her body as her red painted fingers worked away with needles and yarn, creating half double crochet stitches in a swift pace.

In her downtime, she found it hard to settle down, which was surprising considering the amount of work she constantly had on her plate, but that consistency of always working had stuck with her since she was little. If a book didn't work to settle her mind and jump her to a different reality, then creating something of her own would shift her focus and cause her to relax as each stitch or each pull became second nature.

Her grandmother had done a good job in instilling the different types of stitches in her as she grew up, often being asked to help her with making blankets or cardigans to pass the time, a story and some hot chocolate accompanying them as they sat by the fire - something of which she found herself doing again.

Regardless of if she was always professional and put together in front of her students and staff, there were times in which Larissa let her feelings get the better of her. She had gone on a good streak for quite some time, putting an invisible line between what she accepted and what she deemed as pushing it too far. But there were times in which she’d let it slip.. let it blur and fizzle into something that was no longer readable, no longer there..

With you, this seemed to be one of those times.

You had been working at Nevermore for a few months now. You loved everything the kids had thrown at you, their amazing minds and unique abilities sometimes throwing you through loops you had no idea how you recovered from, but you enjoyed their company all the same. You were still learning the ropes, but, as the painting teacher, you were able to toss your passion into anything and everything that came to your mind - something of which caught the eye of the tall professional.

You had gotten to know each other quite well over your short amount of time here. You both loved the arts and had spent hours upon hours in conversation digging into certain artists or looking at all kinds of works over a bottle of wine or two. Something so calm and passionate had stolen hours from you, sometimes waking up from your conversations so late into the night that it had become early morning - hours stolen from you that you didn’t even dare to wish you wanted back.

It felt so private, so domestic, so calm, so safe, so utterly human that whenever you laid in bed from a night like that you felt an ache in your chest as you looked up at the ceiling, an emptiness that wasn't unwelcome but wasn't asked for, a feeling that wasn't a want but a pure longing, a lingering touch that held you in its grasp, in its vice grip that told you that you had undeniably fell for the woman as though she was what made you breath, what made your heart beat, what made you go through days upon days of creating art that you could only hope would match to her beauty one day.

~~

You dismissed your class for the day, finding that it had been a successful session as you found paint splotches all over your arms and a few splatters on your face, diving into the art so much that your arm had become a palette and your face showed traces of your focus. A few students stayed behind, wanting to complete their project with it's upcoming due date after receiving their critiques for the day.

You hung your painting to dry - a medium sized canvas showing two feminine figures under a large tree, their reflections bouncing back from the water in front of them as the sun slowly turned in for the night, a painting created from a scene of the two of your that you had committed to memory after spending one of those days that made you feel, with out a doubt, alive. You were proud of your efforts, a master in your craft always had room to improve, and it seemed as though this was coming along just as you wanted it to.

A flash of red hair caught your eye by the door, being followed by three soft knocks on the dark hardwood. You turned your gaze to see a cheery Marilyn Thornhill approaching your desk.

"Hello, Professor Y/l/n! Are you busy, by chance?" She ran her fingers along the edge of your desk, scanning your features and the paint that lined them before casting her gaze down, looking at the swatches and photos that scattered your workspace.

"You know, you can call me y/n." You laughed before hitting enter and sending the last email in your inbox. "I'm not busy at the moment and don't find that I have anything else for today, so no. Did you need help with something?"

You had turned your attention to the woman after grabbing a cloth to wipe the paint away from your arms and face. You had gotten to know her through Larissa, and you two bonded over the fact that you were both quite new, even if she had a year on you. You found her to be full of energy and passion, something you found traces of in her work, and enjoyed her company whenever there was a chance for it. You knew her well enough to pick up on a new energy she had, like something had shifted, like there was something she knew that you didn't yet.

"I didn't need help with anything, no. I was just with Larissa and she asked if I could stop by and send you over if you weren't busy. It's nothing bad - I know she's the principal, so some people can get scared when they're asked to head over, but I'm sure you know her well enough by now to tell."

You stood from your seat, closing out your computer before collecting your things in an organized manner, dropping them into one of the baskets that sat behind you. Just as you were about to dismiss the students that still worked and lingered, she stepped in and provided another set of eyes in your absence, reassuring you that she'd stay until they were finished. From that, you gathered that you'd apparently be gone for more than just a few minutes.

You checked in on the students one last time, giving them comments and answering any questions they had before grabbing your keys and setting foot into the stone halls.

~~

Your nerves had gotten to you slightly, but the excitement to see the woman that sat behind the large, dark doors overshadowed any negative feeling that crossed your path as you knocked. After a few short moments, a small 'come in!' was heard from the other side. You opened it slowly, knowing that the doors sometimes liked to creak to show off their old age, and peeked your head in.

The room was empty, besides the two of you, and warm - a fact that you loved as your bare arms and shoulders shivered in the cold expanse that the school gave you, their open halls and many balconies creating a breeze that sometimes was too cold to be unavoidable. You stepped into the office, a small click from the door closing making itself known before you closed the distance between yourself and the sapphire goddess.

You settled yourself in one of the seats, pulling your legs up and resting along the broad arms that the brown chair gave you, before taking in her focused form as she typed away. Her red rimmed glassed sat at the edge of her nose as her gaze was turned down towards her fingers, switching up to her screen and back down again. A content, low hum was emitted from her as she clicked one last time, seemingly finishing an email, before she closed the laptop and moved her glasses to rest on her head.

The sound was enough to flood your being with warmth, rumbling in her throat and transferring itself to settle in your chest before it dissipated into thin air, leaving it's trace as a light blush on your cheeks as you made eye contact with its source.

"Hello, darling," she purred. Her full attention was at your mercy, the fact alone making your blush grow as you looked back at her, a small smile filling your features and causing one to lift at her lips as well.

"Hello, Larissa," you responded, weaker than you would've liked. She always seemed to have this affect on you at the start of everything. It was like her presence alone was enough to reset you, to have your face warm, your fingers fiddling with each other, your gaze to falter until you eased back up to the woman and stopped thinking about your every move.

Comfortable conversation had settled between you two, a shift to the couch as the flames roared, giving you the warmth you of so craved as you sat side by side. Your shoes were discarded as your legs touched in the close proximity, lost in talking about the different types of pieces your students had come up with this time around.

As it ended, there was a touch of nervousness coming from her as she settled into the next topic of conversation. She averted her gaze from you as her hands moved slightly with each word - talking with her hands was something you caught onto early into knowing her, and it was a small little touch that you adored about her.

"I called you in here for a reason a few hours ago, but the thought seemed to have slipped from me until now. I'm sorry about that, y/n.." She stood to move to her desk, opening her bottom drawer and fidgeting with a few things before taking out a brown box with a white ribbon on it.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Larissa.. I always enjoy your company, regardless of what we're doing." You had let a little more than the truth fall into that statement - something she seemed to notice as a blush met her cheeks.

She sat back down next to you, a lot closer this time, as her arm came around behind you and rested on the back of the couch. She handed you the box, gently resting it into your hands, as you gave her a confused look. You placed it into your lap, looking down at it and appreciating the small details that littered the box and the beautiful curves of the handwriting that spelled your name on the small tag attached to the bow. You looked back up at her, and, just as you were about to speak, her accent filled the room.

"I'd like to be quite blunt, in this moment, love.." Her voice shook slightly as she looked at the box. Her nervousness was confirmed to you at the way her words lingered for a moment, almost as though she was unsure of what she was about to say next.

"These last few month, in your company, have been the best I've had in years.. It feels amazing to talk so freely with you, to be so open about so many things and to feel.." She paused, her eyes closing as she swallowed. She inhaled, her breath wavering slightly, before she spoke again. "..to feel so loved.."

Your heart broke a little at her words. You could never understand how someone so pristine, so intelligent, so down right gorgeous hadn't felt loved in so long. It pulled on your heartstrings as you saw the true feelings that lingered within her soul as her gaze finally met yours.

The concern that lined your features cracked her heart. It was amazing to feel so cared for by a human she felt so deeply for. It made her anxious as to what she was about to admit, the fear of ruining something so true, so precious weighed on her shoulders, but she knew she couldn't keep drawing this out as her feelings for you grew by the day.

"In the box is a gift for you.. It's something that I made to fit you, both in color and size. I took into account that you like some things oversized.. However.."

Her pause made your breathing stop. She had you unconsciously leaning towards her, hanging onto every word as though they were the last ones you were going to hear, as though her voice was the last one to grace your eardrums. She seemed to notice this, her lips curling up slightly before the reality of what she was about to say settled itself back into her mind.

"You can open it, now or later, but on some terms.. I have grown very fond of you, sweet girl.. So much so that I look forward to seeing you at the end of every week, that I hope to catch you at any point in the day. I like you, y/n.. very much and the fact that those words came out of my mouth are terrifying."

She took in a breath as she looked at your expression. It had shifted of one of concern to one that was overly flustered - to why, she didn't know yet. She hoped that it was the one she looked for as she searched deep into your eyes.

"I want you to open this if your feelings are reciprocated.." She placed her fingertips onto the box softly, making sure her words were clear as you soaked in each one. "If they aren't, you can leave the box here as you leave for the night or leave it in the mailroom for me to collect it later. Whatever answer you give, I hope this doesn't change anything between us, and.. if they're not reciprocated things will-"

Your swift movements had cut her off. Seeing her this nervous was something you never thought you would have in your sights and now knowing that you were the cause of this wave pained you. It was as though time slowed down when her feelings were revealed to you, like your heart stopped and all movements within your body had ceased to exist, allowing her to capture your complete focus, your soul, and, officially, your heart. You didn't want her to be consumed into the negative, into the 'what ifs' that could plague ones mind, so you moved before you let her consider them to be a piece of reality.

You shuffled to your right a bit more, her arm completely pressed along your back and your side meeting hers as you left no room between the two of you. You could feel her breath meet the side of your face, causing a shiver to run through you. You were so close that her perfume was all consuming, the intoxicating scent moving itself to the forefront of your lungs as every new inhale made you dizzy.

You leaned against her and turned your face towards her, taking in her confused expression with a small laugh before it died in your chest after realizing just how close the two of you were. Her eyes moved down to your lips for a moment, your eyes doing the same before looking back up to her eyes, seeing that they were already there again. You took in a shaky breath before finally speaking.

"I want you to know that I feel the same way.. I'm sorry I somewhat cut you off, but I didn't want you to think otherwise.." You let her absorb your words, you tone lined with care and your voice covered with sincerity and love. Her gaze softened as reality set in, a big smile replacing the look of confusion that was there second prior.

You smiled back before looking down to your lap, slowly undoing the ribbon that was delicately tied in its place. You lifted the cover off the box and set it on the table that was in front of you both, a gasp leaving your mouth as your eyes gazed over the tied threads in front of you, your fingers smoothing over the soft, dark fabric that sat within the box.

"Larissa.. this," you lifted the fabric out of the box, presenting the oversized cardigan in front of the both of you. "You made this?"

Shock and adoration graced your face and features. You understood the hours of work that something like this could take, and, knowing that she was nothing less than busy most of the time, she took those hours to make something for you.

"I-I" She cleared her throat, grounding herself after what was just revealed between the two of you. "I did, yes.. I took note of the colors you wore the most and was able to guess what size would fit you best by spending time with you and taking in your figure.."

"You're amazing!" The words echoed through the room as you stood up to put it on, settling in the woman's chest and filling her with warmth, butterflies soaring through her as her heart swelled. You spun once, after putting on the oversized piece of clothing. "How do I look?"

You loved how it was longer and could capture your entire body when you pulled your legs onto the chair with you, or how the arms bunched up at your elbows and could cover your hands if they got cold. It smelled of her, something you noticed as you opened the box, showing off the hours she had spent working on this piece alone, hours of her fingers working through stitch after stitch of the dark color, hours of her touch, her scent, her love being filled into the fabric.

"Perfect." It had left her lips without her knowing, without her thoughts stopping her. She smiled at how happy you looked, at how adorable you looked in something she had made just for you. The sparkle that filled your eyes made her heart race and you couldn't help but blush at her comment.

You quickly sat back next to her, pulling your legs up with you and pressing yourself into the touch of the crafty principal. You placed an arm at her shoulder while the other cupped the side of her face, your thumb tracing along the smooth skin. Her arm wrapped around you this time, loving that she could have you closer than she ever did before. A soft 'thank you' left your lips as the fabric enveloped you in a gentle hold.

A small silence had filled the room, a charged energy making itself known as you gazed into each others eyes and got comfortable. Everything else for the both of you seemed to slip away, the world only consisting of the two of you in this moment.

"Can.. I kiss you, y/n?" She whispered, her lips a hair away from yours. Your breath was caught in your throat as your eyes pleaded. The way she looked at you was intoxicating. You thanked the old gods and the new for sending someone as amazing, as beautiful, as talented and as brilliant as her into your life.

"Of course.." You said against her lips, the small touch making anticipation drive itself through your veins, before her lips captured yours.

The kiss was soft, your being becoming all consumed by hers as her hands met your hips, making a home for themselves there. Everything ran quiet as you melted into each others touch. The hand you had on her face moved down slightly as you both released each other for air, only to move to the back of her neck and pull her back into you.

Every time her lips met yours it was as though electricity ran through the both of you, charging the room with love as every 'what if' that may have been thought before disappeared from sight. Each kiss was so full of emotion, so full of drawings one made for the other, so full of stitches redone until perfection, so full of paintings that were discarded or replaced to move towards excellence..

so full of hours upon hours spent with a needle and thread..

~~

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: THIS WAS SO FUCKING CUTE I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING IM GOING INSANE I CANT ITS SO ADORABLE

SIREN!! Thank you so much for putting this in my inbox. I was gonna put a little more detail about everything (I literally did some research on hand making lace) but once I started writing things kinda shifted so I hope this was okay LOL

I got into such a flow writing this and it was so nice to just sit and create something I that just came to mind. I'm slowly working on my reqs rn but I do them after I complete my assignments and homework which is why I'm slightly MIA for part of the day but i love doing this sm so it helps push me slightly to get everything done lol

I'm still having a tagging issue for some of you (sorry) so if you havent looked at this post yet then I would if you're having that issue

ty again for the ask :) i hope you all enjoyed

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:(tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@eveymay @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @s-c-rambledegggs @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

[timtamtomme]

GUESS IM STILL ON THET TF2 GRIND--- Ever since I resketched them all in my new style, I have been thinking about ACTALLY designing my merc ocs!! SO I FINALLY DID!! Plus they all share colors, proper, so they look so nice together!! I kina miss their story, so I'll see about exploring that more too.

Of course, to show off their scars and features, I also made a bare version! This will likely double as dress up dolls for future outfits I may make LMAO

Though a couple share names with cannon TF2 mercenaries, their lore and personalities have long since branched off from their canonical counterparts. If you're interested in some details about them, here's a quick mini-bio for each one!! I'm also open to answering any questions about them, because they have at least 6 years of history behind them, haha!

BLU MEDIC ~ Hannes Augesburt

German ~ He/Him ~ Demiromantic Bisexual Hannes is the closest you can get to the 'villain' of the story without looking beyond the mercenaries themselves. He's an egotistical sadist who wants nothing but complete and utter control of his team. He will do anything to win, even willingly replace his perfectly working arm for a far more powerful alternative.

BLU ENGINEER ~ Dallas "Dell" Conagher

American (Texas) ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual Dallas is a nepobaby for sure, only working for BLU because of his father and fathers father's loyalty to the Administrator. Graduating college for the first time at age 15, Dallas is an incredibly intelligent man, but all of that goes out the door when it comes to Hannes. He is extremely permissive and rarely has the guts to talk back or otherwise disobey the Medic's orders.

BLU SNIPER ~ Bernard {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual No one really knows who he is or what he's about. Bernard spends most of his time alone doing god knows what; half the time he isnt even in the BLU Base when they're off work. The closest thing he has to a friend is the pyro, who has done what she can to include him in group activities to get him out of his room. The most personal thing she's discovered that he has a knack for knitting and crochet.

BLU PYRO ~ Ana Maria Garcia-Lopez

Mexican-American (Kansas) ~ She/Her ~ Pansexual Ana is a passionate and confident woman. She does what she can to inspire confidence in her team and lend them a hand whenever she can. The glue who keeps everyone together, she is often the first to rebuttal the Medic's commands if she perceives him going too far, though she's gotten a lot more quiet since the introduction of his new robotic arm. She fears what he's capable of.

RED HEAVY ~ Mikhail "Misha" Medved

Russian ~ He/Him ~ Heterosexual The often quiet muscle of the Red team, Misha spends most of his free time reading in the public spaces of the RED Base. He enjoys listening to others ramble and replies infrequently. However, when he feels like he has something to say, he is a loud and boisterous personality who has no shame or fear in his own opinions and humor.

RED SPY ~ Jourdain "Dain" {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Bisexual An almost complete recluse, Jourdain takes no joy or comfort in interacting with his team; at least, that's what he lets on. Jourdain is a man who's so deeply fearful of getting hurt, that he refuses to let anyone get close enough to have the opportunity, and thus, he only spends time with his team during work hours. He does his job well and doesn't even slack on it, even though he believes it to be below him compared to his old jobs.

RED SCOUT ~ Nora Peterson

French-American (Massachusetts) ~ She/Her (Transfem) ~ Sapphic Bisexual Nora is a loud and proud Bostonian girl who has a love of sports and art. After she dropped out of art college, she needed to make up for the wasted tuition and pay back her mother, so she got a job fast. The first one she could find and paid the most was a mercenary job, though she didn't know what it actually was at the time. Since arriving here, she has settled in well, and soon settled into herself with her transition. Being a mercenary is terrifying at times, but she's felt freer then she has ever felt before.

[cjgladback]

So this blocking thing! It's good for more than just nuisances. I haven't knit a lot of garments yet with fiber that responds to blocking, and what I have has been like...socks where it seems unnecessary because the whole thing will be in tension while worn. But also I just don't have large pinnable surfaces, as one typically needs when the point is to soak a piece of fabric and then stretch it out to pose in the shape you want it to be until next soaking. What do I have? The ability to stack waterproof objects on a small patch of flat counter space. And thank goodness because that definitely saved this hat.

Anyway! I am happy to have used my extremely inconsistent first skeins of support-spindled yarn (see the post with them all laid out here) for a project I'll probably actually use once it's chilly again. It is comfortable, even if I'm a bit disappointed in the colorwork legibility. This is how the chart looks:

But I didn't quite manage matching gauge yarns, I'm low on practice/experience keeping tension for stranded colorwork, and probably just aiming for too loose a fabric anyway (should've found a path to increasing stitches and using smaller needles on that section) so it's very blobby.

I do have some of that green and "matching" oyster skein left, as well as a little of the finest oyster yarn I used for the ribbing. So if I use them together again, I'll probably hold the two oyster threads as one. Speaking of, I had way too much of the underplied lace yarn and wasn't happy with my first run at an even more open lace panel, so ended up frogging that back and making these sections with the lace yarn held double. Worth it! Much happier with this result. And I can see why underplied yarn has been said to do lace well; was cool how open it already was before blocking.

Image descriptions below:

[ID: Four photos of a slouchy, off-white beanie with some green colorwork being knit, blocked, and worn. The hat is constructed with a solid top of thicker yarn, strip of lace, a strip of green colorwork (meant to be jumping frogs), a matching strip of lace, and finally a long section of ribbing, broken into four strips by inverting the knits and purls.

In the first photo, with a blurred background, the beanie is still in process with a green string holding the live stitches while it's tried on, partway through the first section of ribbed brim; it fits like a misshapen mushroom, the top lace panel collapsing over the relatively tight colorwork, all under the lumpy increases of the densely knit crown.

The second photo also has a blurred background but shows the hat being blocked, gently stretched over a tower of stacked containers, widest at the top around the curved base of an upside down plastic coffee canister from crown to colorwork, the gradual taper of a hair bleach tub easing the lower lace panel into the ribbing before the very end hangs free around a peanut butter jar pedestal.

The third and fourth photos show the finished hat from the side and front, being worn by a pale-skinned brunette woman with a braid and orange t-shirt in front of painted wood paneling on an overcast day. The hat is slouched but not bulbous, blocking having stretched the colorwork horizontally and the lace vertically; a twice-rolled brim covers the lower lace panel but leaves the still not very legible frog colorwork visible. End ID]

[ID: Chart of green on white colorwork made in the Google Sheets spreadsheet software; a section in the middle is selected, though there are repeated motifs on either side. Every cell with an X in it is colored green and makes slightly horizontally stretched pixel art of a frog hopping from the right to the left; the rightmost frog is crouched under a flower or star made of four dots, to its left is a frog pushing off the ground and to its left a frog leaping horizontally through the air. The repeat is 39 stitches wide, 10 rows tall. End ID]

[ptolomeia]

Who wants to hear my thoughts on how my disability, fatness and grief all intersect?

If the answer is not you, please press j to continue to the next post!

So, we're coming up on a year now since our disability meant we had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be able to work and had to drop out of school for our dream job and become a housebound/bedbound lump person. Now my dream job was in construction, it was unionized and extremely well paid and I was three months short of graduating when reality became undeniable. I was never going to be able to do this.

I may have been the only person in my class who had to double check the weight capacity of my harness and shock absorber, but I was fucking good at the work. One of my teachers had me tutoring classmates before the brain fog made that impossible. And while it was hard to find clothes that fit me, mens clothes typically came in larger sizes, which worked for me.

And then came MECFS, slowly robbing my life of, well, most things really. Including, but very much not limited to, my sense of identity and my dream job.

Being a poor student, I didn't really have many clothes that didn't fit with that life. And being very fat, i couldnt exactly go to a mall and buy fast fashion that suited me better for cheap. So, I find myself almost a year down the line with still not many clothes that make me feel good or happy or non additional grief.

Which brings me to my next set of issues. Due to sensory and temperature regulation issues, I can only wear natural breathable fibers (another thing that cuts me off from fast fashion). Between the exhaustion from my ME/CFS and my sensory issues, shopping is hard on me.

But HAHA! I think. I've been sewing on and off for near two decades now (ow my brain). I can just sew myself a new wardrobe! Besides, the non construction worker styles I like (vintage 40s-50s) is even harder to find plus sized, well fitting anyway. If I can't do my dream job, at least I can enjoy some expertly sewn (eh, close enough), perfectly (that could probably use some quotes) fitting clothes in a style I've long loved but thought impractical!

Except, here's the thing. Sewing requires energy. Laying out and cutting out fabric requires energy. It requires precision and focus and when I only have a few good hours a day and have to take care of myself and my home on top of my sewing ambitions...

Last summer I made a pair of shorts (two front pieces, two back pieces, a fly, a waist band, belt loops, 4 pockets and facings) in three days at the start of my decline, and that was on top of doing some basic renovations at my parents house. Last month, an extremely simple t-shirt (front, back, two sleeves and a neckband) took me... a week? More? And there's so much more I want to make working through my stash. Pj's that aren't falling apart. A new raincoat and a new fall coat. A simple 1950s style dress in a wonderfully loud plaid that would just be so much fun.

But this morning I was trying to get my jersey to lie flat and nearly ended up crying (knits are the devil fabric. Curse them and their comfort and stretch). There are days where it feels like there is nothing this disease won't take from me.

But at the same time... even if a year ago I could have trimmed assembled and cut out a pattern in one day, at least today I got to trim the papers? And even if cutting out that jersey took more fabric that it strictly needed to, at least I'm one step closer to having some new, hole free pjs.

So, even as i grieve the many many things I lost, I try to hold to what I still can do. And also rail against the world for making things harder for fat people than they need to be. Because seriously, I'm having to learn to make my own patterns (and yes, they will fit better but that is not the point) because most patterns (and definitely none of the big commercial ones) come in anything close to my measurements. This makes me extremely annoyed.

But yeah, to sum up, disability, fatness, grief, and hope all make a very complex ball. And I wish it could be easier

[wuahae]

how about.... woozi + 'meet ugly' lol

LMAO...... extremely fitting for him i must admit

woozi + meet ugly

"jeonghan, you don't get it," you stress, taking another swig of your coffee. "i'm so serious. jihoon hates me, i just know it."

the noise of the dining hall during lunchtime rush hour has jeonghan popping an airpod out of his ear, his other hand reaching over to steal a tater tot from your lunch tray. "sorry, say that again?"

"jeonghan!" your woes bounce right off of him, stuck buried into the palms of your hands as you groan, clutching your head. "you're not even listening to me!"

"kidding, kidding," he teases lightly, taking a sip of his own coffee. decaf, obviously. lucky bastard. "who is this guy, anyway?"

lee jihoon, applied music major with a focus in composition, the source of your agony, a man you're 100% sure you would've never crossed paths with if not for the fact that every music major was required to take at least 60 credits outside of the music department. and it just so happened that one of those classes had to be one of yours. CMS 220: writing in media and cinema studies.

"i didn't even mean to debate with him," you say, insistent. "but it was a socratic seminar! what else was i supposed to do, not say anything?" popping a tater tot in your mouth, you wave your arms for emphasis. "you know how strict professor lee is with participation!"

"i told you not to take that class," jeonghan chided. "you're literally chugging your third coffee of the day and it's barely even 2."

"this isn't about me!"

jeonghan rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. "so what, you countered his answer during a socratic and now you think he hates your guts?"

"not think, jeonghan. i know."

the dirty look he had given you once class had ended was enough to have you walking on eggshells every time you saw him the rest of the week. not to mention, the way he'd looked down at his notes every time you spoke up during the socratic seminar today in class.

"maybe he just wanted to review his notes?"

"you should have seen the way he side-eyed me." you pause, taking another sip of your coffee as you drum your fingers against the table. maybe the caffeine was getting to you. "it's not even my fault. he's the one who chose to die on that hill."

who even argues that reality is objective in a unit about the multiverse anyway?

"uh huh." jeonghan checks his phone for the time, and you peer over to read the upside-down numbers. 2:15. just the amount of time needed to have a relaxed walk to your next class. scooching the chair out, you sling your backpack on one shoulder, gathering the napkins and empty trays into one pile.

"why do you care so much, anyway? isn't he just some guy?"

knitting your eyebrows together, you stop at the edge of the table. "i mean. yeah. but you know i don't like it when someone doesn't like me."

"it sounds like you don't even like him though?"

"that's different." you would have liked him fine if he didn't give you a stink eye at 8:30 in the morning.

tossing the rest of your empty tray in the trash, you sigh, shaking your coffee slightly. most of the ice had already melted. you crane your neck back to look at jeonghan as you walk towards the door. "in any case, i really just need to get past this semester. this class is honestly the least of my worries, and so is—"

jeonghan manages to get out a faint "uh—" before it all explodes. it being your half-empty iced coffee, à la crashing straight into the other person opening the door. the other person being jihoon, his white shirt and nice slacks all stained with your watered-down double shot espresso.

you stare blankly at him, mouth gaping. coffee drips from your hand to the floor. "i have to go to class," you blurt out, hand slapping over your mouth the second you do. fuck.

well. if he didn't hate you before, lee jihoon definitely hates you now.

[taones]

hii! sorry, was just wondering if i could request head canons/scenarios of how suna, tendou, and sakusa would comfort their s/o who’s been feeling down and avoiding others because they feel like a burden (i’m just rlly going through it rn 🥲)

Comforting You - S.R + T.S

sorry that you're having such a hard time sweetpea! I'm going to leave Sakusa out these purely bc it's been ages since I've watched his scenes ●~● not edited bc I can't be bothered

warnings - hurt/comfort, nothing not mentioned in the request ●³●

Suna

I honestly thing he wouldn't have a clue what to do at the beginning of your relationship

depending on how long you had been dating, I think he would eventually get the hang of it

but even then, he definitely prefers to comfort you quietly, more of an observe and act rather than an act straight away

however - I think this is extremely comforting when you're crying

Sunarin can really be the softest, warmest person to snuggle up to and when he snuggles he goes hard

brings your double duvet into the living room, wraps you in it like a burrito and holds you in his arms for as long as you need

absolutely more of a listener than an advice giver but will murmur comforting words into your hairline while you're snuggled on him

especially if you open up to him about feeling like you're a burden

he gets this little knitted brow-frowny face and sits up so he's facing you, holds your hands in his and says, in the most sincere voice you've ever heard from him that you could never be a burden and never will be

and that you're the only person he can even stand to be around for that long amount of time, you're so important to him and he would look so stricken then you even think that about yourself PLSSS

late night drives are his thing, especially if you just need to scream out some lyrics of the songs you like to feel better

will take you to get whatever junk food you want and sit with you all night until he sees a smile on your face again

Tendou

oh please he is the king of comfort, he knows exactly how you're feeling without you ever having to say a word- he's just that in tune with your emotions

plus he's very experienced in feeling unwelcomed or like a burden to people, that's something he's worked through by himself and he's not going to let you be without a support system during this time

Satori is ON it immediately, has the best coping mechanisms and little self worth affirmations to tech you

but he knows, as much as those work, the best thing you need in that moment is comfort and reassurance

he obviously tries to spend some quality time with you, have some skincare/self care ngihts with you

but he also has a serious sit down talk with you about how you're feeling and how he can help

even if you're not overly sure how he can help - this will at least give him some insight so he can take a guess

so so so reassuring about what you mean to him and how much he loves being around you - you could never be a burden to him or anyone else because you simply make people around you so happy

starts leaving little post-it notes around the house in places he knows you'll see them

packing them in your lunch every day so you never forget how much you mean to him

ahh again, sorry I didn't include Sakusa, it's been ages since I've rewatched haikyuu so I don't think I could do his characterisation any justice, I'll put it on the back-burner for now and get to it as soon as I can <3 loves ya

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[starghost-fics]

my dear ones, we have finally made it. i am splitting no more chapters, adding no more unexpected scenes. this is the capper of caps, this is the epilogue of epilogues. i hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 24—epilogue: two or three years later: Trent finds himself back at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art with Ted and the kids.

please note: we have double content behind the cut. both my rambling comments on this chapter, and a very special assortment of facts about their lives

commentary

at the very last minute, as I was debating whether to actually keep writing and show the proposal, I realized I had the opportunity to end, visually, like S3, but in a much more unambiguously positive way.

I like Ted's expression in that last shot of S3, the longing and uncertainty and also satisfaction written all over his face, and the way this imperfect little comedy never gave in to being simplistically happy and instead poked at the fact that life is difficult and full of compromises while also being wonderful if you work at it, but also:

let the man just be extremely happy and not sacrifice an entire life he built for the idea of a nuclear family, maybe? maybe?

anyway, closing shot on Ted's face, but this time right before he makes a very good decision as opposed to sometime after he made a difficult to negative one.

My original note to myself for an epilogue was a very simple sketch:

"Unspecified future. Ted and Trent sit on a bench under a tree. Trent has a tea in his hand; Ted has a cocoa. Ted's puffer is zipped to his chin, and Trent has a messily hand-knit scarf around his neck. Ted's arm stretches along the back of the bench; the way Trent's legs are crossed, his foot hovers in front of Ted's shin. They talk about nothing. They talk about art. They talk about work (Trent is teaching at a university in addition to continuing to write). They talk about whatever. "Vi will be coming soon with Charlotte," Ted says, looking at his phone. They go home. They have a home."

but then one day i was very tired at work and then i thought of Trent nervous on a trip back to KC and Henry seeing right through him and imagined how Trent would feel at Henry asking to call him Dad and being so forcefully reminded of his own happiness and the family he's made

and i couldn't say no to THAT

i mean i almost had a heart attack at my desk

I would also like to admit that I'm pretty sure I was thinking of Alexis de Tocqueville's tour of America, not Marquis de Lafayette, when I made the reference in the very first paragraph of this fic, though Lafayette did famously return to America post-Revolution and stayed over a year. Maybe Trent and Ted had the same brainfart, and that's why they're meant to be together.

some facts about the rest of their lives

Trent gets through the little proposal he'd written for himself (he was not going to fuck up the whole speaking words thing again by attempting to improvise this of all things) but then gets flustered because Ted is openly sobbing as he says yes.

Ted keeps the picture of them on their first date (the one by the river) in a place of honor at home, and uses it as his phone's background. (his lock screen is always Henry, and then Henry and Charlotte.) Trent pretends to be aggrieved by this (he didn't know it was a date, and then he blocked Ted, how could you keep reminding me) but truly he loves it, loves remembering that date, loves the way they look together in the sunset.

Ted and Trent have an eternally-running argument about the greatest book of all time, which is meaningless to both of them, but which they get very heated about; in this way, they end up less heated when they have actual arguments.

Trent steals Ted's bland sweaters ("do you just walk into j crew* and take the whole mannequin to the register" "what's wrong with that, they worked hard putting that outfit together") but only wears them for two reasons: he's at home and it's cold, or he knows he's going out and he styles it with all his old beat up band and rock shit from his youth with Vi

* please note that I don't know the UK equivalent to j crew and am not about to do research for bonus notes on a fanfic

When Charlotte is ten, they get a dog. She negotiated with the whole family to decide that they would certainly find the corgi of their dreams at the fostering center, but once they arrive, she (quickly followed by Ted) falls in love with Lucy, a mix of unspecified origins, but almost certainly with some Great Dane in her heritage. Lucy is nearly as large as Charlotte when they curl up on the floor, and Trent secretly lets her join him on the couch when he's reading.

Ted has a million nicknames for Charlotte, yes, but almost exclusively uses 'sweetheart' for Trent. (Well, and 'sport,' for the memories.) Why sweetheart, Trent never asks, but Ted tells him one day anyway: it's because Ted always knew that behind that fearsome journalist was a heart as sweet as sugar, and boy, was he ever right.

After that, he starts calling Trent 'sugar' once in a while.

[ososimilar]

Chapter 3- Seb

The fucks his problem? Seb fell back into his gamer chair, wheels sliding back until he hit the wall. Why would he just walk in like that? He was extremely flustered. Since I'm dressed now I guess I'll get breakfast. He got back up and walked upstairs, knowing he wouldn't be able to focus on work after that whole ordeal. Walking into the kitchen he opened the fridge, contemplating grabbing a beer before deciding it'd be best not to. Instead he opened the cupboard, grabbed two pieces of bread and threw them in the toaster.

He waited, leaning against the counter. Why would he do that? Does he know? No! He shook his head. There's no way. Unless…. Does he feel the same way? Seb pushed that thought to the back of his head. Just because I didn't feel good for one night he had to go and blow it out of proportion. The toaster ring brought him back to reality. He grabbed his toast, put some strawberry jam on it and walked toward his room. He was so deep in thought he barely noticed his mom trying to talk to him.

“Sebastian.”

“Oh, hey Rob- Mom.” He caught himself. She didn't like it when he called her Robin.

“Sam wasn't here long. Just rushed past me, didn't stop to make conversation or anything.” She said, “I hear you haven't been feeling good recently.” her voice wasn’t prying but concerned.

“I'm fine.” Seb took a bite of his toast; the crunch enveloped the silent room. He went to say more, then stopped and turned around. “I'll see you later mom.” He walked back to his room, sat at his computer and took a deep breath. I just have to finish this. I can do it.

He worked, thoughts often drifting to Sam, before he would scold himself and focus again on his work.

After a few hours had passed he looked at the clock. It's almost 6. Sam and Abby will be at the stardrop soon. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to go. He showered, then looked at his hair in the mirror. Double and triple checking that it looked good. As he walked out the door he stopped, and went back inside to his parents room. Maybe I should ask. No. That'd be embarrassing. He knocked, and after a few seconds passed with no response he went inside. He walked to the closet and grabbed some of his stepfather Darius’ cologne. He was reading the label.

Dior Perfume

For men

Pine and _____

“Is there a reason you're trying to smell good?”

FUCK! Sebastian practically jumped out of his skin. He turned to see his stepfather in the door. He stood there, staring at Darius, perfume in hand.

“I wasn't trying to scare you.” He looked Sebastian up and down. “You can use that, it's fine.”

“T-thank you.” Seb said, still in shock from the scare.

He went to spray the cologne before Darius interrupted. “Do you know how to put that on?”

“Is there a wrong way to do it?” Seb snarled.

“You spray it once on your wrist, then rub your wrists together. Then do it once on the side of your neck. That's all you need, otherwise it'll be too strong.” Darius smiled at Seb.

“Thanks.” He relaxed a little before spraying the perfume like Darius instructed. After he quickly set down the cologne, he thanked Daruis again and rushed out. He was wearing a black knit sweater, with tan slacks. Which he paired with the blue and gray snow boots his mom had bought him when he was 15.

He walked to the Stardrop. Checking his breath and reflection. I don't know why I’m like this. I check my breath as if there's even the slightest chance I'll get that straight boy to kiss me. He arrived, opened the door and walked to the billiards table nonchalantly.

“Sup.” He gave an awkward dudebro nod in the direction of Abby and Sam as he arrived.

Abby giggled.

Fuck that was embarrassing. Who says sup? And Whyd I nod?

“Hey bro, it's great to see you! I take it you're feeling better.” Sam smiled at him. Sam's smile always had a way of making Seb feel less alone, like he wasn't a social outcast no one wanted to talk to. “You feel good enough to beat me today?” Sam's smile turned into a triumphant grin.

“We’ll see.”

“Youre saying that like there's no chance I win.” Abby chimed in.

“You’ve never won before,” Seb shot back.

Abby looked at him, doing a double take. “Maybe todays the day.”

Seb walked toward the pool cues and as he passed Abby she whispered in his ear. “You look awfully dressed up today.” She said it in a taunting voice. Seb froze.

Abby sniffed and continued, “oh and is that cologne?” She gave him a look he could tell was meant to be playful, but it was hard to take it that way.

Shit, has she caught on? No it's fine, just act like normal and laugh it off. Seb gave a halfhearted laugh. “No silly.” He grabbed his pool cue and walked to the table. Abby followed suit then so did Sam.

“Who's gonna break it today?” Sam addressed the group.

They all stood there in silence, no one wanting to volunteer.

“Not me,” Abby said. “I'm terrible at it.”

“That's true.” Seb added.

“How bout I teach you how?” Sam said, looking at Abby.

“I guess that's fine.” Abby lined up the shot then Sam waved his hand to stop her.

“Let me help you.” Sam positioned himself behind Abby, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing her hands to guide her. Abby tensed up and Seb looked away. With a lump in his throat he said, “Imma get a beer.” And walked away avoiding looking at them. As he walked away he heard the clacking of balls.

“Can I get a beer please.” Seb said as he approached the counter.

“Sure thing buddy.” Gus said.

Seb looked back toward the two playing pool. He leaned against the table and watched as Sam lined up his shot.

Thump. Gus set the beer on the counter next to Seb.

“Thanks,'' Seb said as he picked the beer up and walked back, not even bothering to look at Gus. He walked back toward them, chugging the beer as he went. Drinking the entire thing then slamming it against the edge of the pool table. “I take it, it's my turn.” Seb said, with the added confidence of one beer under his belt. He picked up his pool cue and made his first shot. As they played and the alcohol set in Seb loosened up.

By the end of the game seb had drunk one too many beers. They were tied three ways. It was all up to whoever made this last shot, and it was Sebs turn. He drunkenly lined up his shot as the other two watched, but his hands were shaking. He took a deep breath then felt someone come behind him, grabbing his hands to stabilize them.

“Need some help bro?” Sam said.

Seb could feel Sam's body on his, and it felt incredible. “Thanks.” Seb stammered. Sam helped Seb as he sunk the final shot.

“YOU WON!!” Sam cheered.

But Seb was still in shock from the feeling of Sam's body on his. Suddenly Seb realized that he couldn't back away from the table or else he'd be very embarrassed.

Abby joined in on the cheering before Seb drunkenly said. “Of course I won, I've always been better at pool than you.” His words were a tad slurred but they could still understand him.

“What?” Sam laughed. “You're funny bro.”

“No, I'm serious. I only let you win because…” A wave of nausea hit Seb and he doubled over like he was about to vomit.

“You've had too much to drink, you should probably head home.” Abby came to his rescue.

“Oh I'll walk him.” Sam said.

“No, I got it.” Abby snapped. “Let's get you home pal.” She grabbed his shoulder and helped him to his feet. Leading him outside while he looked at Sam, ashamed.

They were now outside and Abby was leading Seb home. “But, Sam.” Sebastian said.

“What about Sam huh?” Abby prodded him.

“I… He is so cute the way worries about me, and how he plays and his banter.” His words were slurred but he looked at Abby, eyes pleading for someone, anyone to understand him. Suddenly a second wave of nausea hit him and he doubled over and vomited. “shit,” he looked down. Abby got him back up. “Abby.” Seb stopped and looked up at her. “I’m gay.” He looked at her, waiting for the shock to set it. He didn't expect rejection but in his head he knew it was possible. He didn't know any other gay people in pelican town. As far as he knew he was the only one.

Abby raised her eyebrows. “Wow, shocker.” She said with dry sarcasm.

He looked at her and began tearing up. “I don't know what to do.” His tears turned to sobs. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Man you're a mess.” she looked at him. “And I don't care if you're gay, it's pretty obvious to anyone you guys like each other.” He hated the way she said it as if it's not a big deal.

“It is?” Seb said, trying to hold back his sobs.

“Dude, the way you reacted when he put his arms around me.” Then she muttered under her breath, ”Though that did shock me too.” She gave him a look of sympathy. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I dont know!” Seb cried.

“Well you're gonna have to figure it out. Sams not the brightest but he’ll understand.”

“Should I tell him?” He looked up at Abby, pleading for an answer.

“I don't know man, it's up to you.” That was not the reply he wanted to hear. “It's probably best if you do. I think you'd make a cute couple.”

“Ugh, I just wanna kiss his stupid face.” Seb whined.

They walked home in silence. Seb felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. Finally, he was able to share his feelings with someone other than himself.

[licncourt]

hi! do you have any headcanons in mind for human au louis’, like extended family i guess. like grandparents and cousins, do they have family history in nola etc.

I do! Some of it is pulled from my imagined family history for canon Louis, but some of it is specific to this AU.

The Pointe du Lac family is well established in New Orleans. Louis' great-great-great-great grandfather was a French banker who made his fortune lending to the nobility, but fled to the colonies when revolution broke out. He established a indigo plantation there the continued for a couple generations, but the Civil War forced the family to expand their real estate and investing endeavors to compensate for the lost revenue. Since the family had never been noble though, the name stuck.

Since then, the Pointe du Lacs have been major landlords in New Orleans with lots of successful investments. The size of the family was always small since because of their history and Louis didn't grow up around much family. There were a few aunts and uncles who doubled as business partners, but the relationship was always formal, even between the kids. Not a tight-knit family by any means, more obligation-meets-posturing.

Louis would've been happier and better off without being so isolated, but the only family that was really a big part of his life was his sister, who was extremely close to.

[eldritchamy]

The Old Guard vs Atomic Blonde, discuss

So first off, I enjoy the fact that you are clearly fishing for an unhinged Amy rant, and that's cool of you

Second, why would you say vs, they're obviously kissing on the mouth in the back of an abandoned building. WITH tongue.

I will also note that there's no convincing evidence that Lorraine Broughton CAN'T be an alias of Andy's. Just because Atomic Blonde didn't SHOW any supernatural elements doesn't mean they can't exist in the world.

Although I guess her injuries would have healed a lot faster if she was actually Andromache of Scythia in the Cold War. And Andy would never work for the same person for that long.

Anyway. Both excellent movies.

Now here's the rant you (didn't) asked for.

I actually saw Atomic Blonde in theaters (god remember GOING PLACES?) and I am not above admitting that I watched it ENTIRELY for the fact that Charlize Theron was going to kiss Sofia Boutella in it. And under normal circumstances, I'm not really a huge fan of extremely violent movies? They just don't do much for me. But Atomic Blonde is a PHENOMENAL work in cinematography and lighting and choreography. For as bleak and dreary as the setting of Cold War era Berlin is, they breathed INCREDIBLE life into the scenery with the lighting, especially the nightclub with Bisexual Lighting. And the fight choreography is probably the best I've ever seen. It was UNBELIEVABLY well made and despite not normally going for the genre, I ended up loving it because of how fucking GOOD it was. Disappointing but unsurprising what happens to one of the characters, but that's pretty much my only complaint. The characters actually got HURT during fights in ways that affected their fighting as the scenes went on (especially that huge sequence in the middle with the stairwell fight while Lorraine is protecting Spyglass).

Fantastic movie. The pinnacle of its genre.

And way better than John Wick. Yeah I said it.

(I actually saw the John Wick movies AFTER seeing Atomic Blonde and while I can see why the comparison is made, Atomic Blonde is simply much better in terms of writing, fight choreography, and general story. John Wick is Male Power Fantasy Mary Sue in a way that's a little uninspired. They're fine movies, but they don't have the same magic to them that makes Atomic Blonde so fucking good.)

Anyway, came for homoerotic asskicking Charlize Theron, stayed for the fantastically shot highly compelling and well written Cold War spy vs spy drama.

I double checked on wiki where it was (I couldn't remember if it was East Germany or West Germany) and am DELIGHTED to learn that a sequel is "in development."

Now. The Old Guard.

This movie is my shit.

I ALSO went into The Old Guard with the knowledge that Charlize Theron was playing an ass-kicking homoerotic milf in it and can I just say, on behalf of lesbianism, I'm so thankful she's living her best life with this current era of her career where basically all of her characters kick ass and are a little bit gay.

Thank you Charlize.

If for some reason you haven't seen this movie yet, let me give you the pitch: a small, tight-knit group of mercenaries do the jobs no one else can do because they're THAT good.

Then they break their cardinal rule: never work for the same employer twice.

On the job they're ambushed and killed. With a LOT of bullets. Then we watch the bullets slowly fall out of their bodies as their wounds close up, the life comes back into their eyes, and they stand up and kill the everloving shit out of the people who ambushed them. Andy (Charlize) realizes this was a setup, and their secret (that they're a group of immortals who complete the hard jobs because they literally can't be killed) was caught on video by the CIA agent who hired them. Andy is the oldest member of the group (by a LOT) and the de-facto leader, and she decides they're done trying to help people because nothing they've done has made the world better.

While stowing away in a shipping train, they all have the same dream of a soldier in the Middle East having her throat slit and waking up in a military hospital later. A new immortal just woke up from her first death. And now they have to find her.

Meanwhile, information about their inability to die is now in the hands of the pharmaceutical (specifically anti-aging) industry.

Andy is later revealed to have been the first immortal to "wake up," and was alone for a long time before she met the second, a woman she was in love with for centuries until she was trapped in an inescapable prison and tossed into the ocean to die over and over until her immortality runs out.

There's more good fight choreography in this one (I suspect because Charlize Theron is just really good at fight choreography and stage combat, which everyone who's worked with her in the last few years has noted, she loves it and works really hard at it and all of her fight directors are impressed).

Here's the thing about Andromache of Scythia.

She's a MONSTER in a fight. She can tear through rooms full of better armed and better armored special ops. She's a thousands of years old immortal warrior who doesn't tell the whole story, just enough to get you to do what she wants you to do. Her deadly efficiency in close quarter combat is terrifying. And all she wants is to make the world better.

This is like sticking probes into my brain to find the exact set of traits that make the dopamine happen.

My dnd character has a story NPC who is a LOT like Andy: a disguised fallen angel who used to serve a god of time and destiny, who can feel the ripples that big events leave on the fabric of time before they happen (Carl's explanation of "temporal displacement" creating a disturbance in time measurable before an event in Terminator Dark Fate is a pretty good reference point for how she works). She now she works as a spy to help get the right pieces in place for the best possible outcome wherever those ripples lead forward to.

And she was also just revealed to be my character's step mom.

She's 3,392 years old and in addition to being innately a CR 12 creature (a homebrewed cross between a Deva and an Erinyes), she has 18 class levels that make her a TERRIFYING close quarters fighter with enough levels in Horizon Walker Ranger to get an ability very similar to Lilith's combat teleport from Warrior Nun season 2. The ability is essentially you can teleport up to 10 feet to an unoccupied space before EACH ATTACK YOU MAKE, which is CRAZY for CQC on a build that also has levels in Monk and Rogue (i.e. Stunning Strike and Sneak Attack). Also being literally a divine creature, she has stats that a player character couldn't, including DEX and WIS of 25. With Monk's Unarmored Defense, her BASE armor class is 24. That's one point lower than a Tarrasque. And that's without ANY bonus from items like Bracers of Defense. She's the definition of deadly efficiency. She has a degree of second sight, a passive Insight of 29 (WIS bonus of +7 and Expertise for Proficiency 6+6), True Sight (can see invisibility and, in One DND rules, shapeshifters' true form), can teleport multiple times during her turn (innate 3 attacks per action as a modified Erinyes, not counting Flurry of Blows), and has a 90 foot fly speed, immunity to fire and poison, resistance to nonmagical BPS damage, immunity to Charm, Fear, Poisoned, advantage on magic saves, immunity to instant death effects (like Power Word Kill), and more. She's an INSANE super fighter with over three millennia of experience protecting the planes against powerful threats.

She's my favorite NPC and I love her so much she's SUCH an interesting character and Andy reminds me of her a little bit.

Anyway in addition to Andy being canonically in love with another woman, two of the other immortals are men who met on a battlefield and killed each other (repeatedly) before falling in love. So there's VERY canon gay in The Old Guard, as a movie about ancient immortal people should have.

Please watch The Old Guard I can't wait for the sequel.

That went a bit off topic.

Both movies are excellent. I think I liked The Old Guard better because it hits that sweet spot for me of "this has a compelling magic/supernatural element to it" which I really like in my media (and is so hard to find GOOD, quality examples of). Plus Andy reminds me of one of my OCs. It's got a character with similar vibes to one of my favorite characters I'VE made for ME to enjoy. I can't argue with that.

It checks more of my boxes than Atomic Blonde, but I ABSOLUTELY respect Atomic Blonde for what it is. AB has better cinematography and some STUNNING combat sequences, very likely the best I've ever seen (although Warrior Nun season 2 also had some REALLY good fight scenes with some editing that actually FELT like it was influenced by AB), but TOG also has really good action scenes and edges out AB in terms of the plot for me. The plot of AB is very good and well done, but the fantasy element of TOG is just right in my sweet spot. They found my media clitoris and I have to give it the win for that. It gives me a g spot mediagasm.

I hope this is the post you wanted because it's the post you got.

Bon appetit.

[prismatictale]

Closed starter for @hefunks

(Sidenote, I will be using a mix of my old designs and new ones for this rp, just know the official looks for my ocs is in the new character sheet I reblogged a bit ago)

This is a closed started for @hefunks

It was starting to turn to dusk as two early teens were exiting out of a huge set of double doors made out of some kinda of green stone, it was intricately carved and looked almost a millennia old at this point.

They left from the strange ruins and into a giant snow field covered with giant stalagmites all throughout the field, some being as high as 8 meters tall and as thick as 5 meters wide. Strangely too, they seemed to be underground, a fact given away by the lack of stars or even a moon when you looked up, though whatever cave it was, it was extremely expansive and could easily fit another mountain inside it.

The two were humans, a taller female-presenting one with flame-like hair covered in multiple layers of winter clothes, with her shivering a bit even while under all that heavy clothing.

The other was a male presenting one with hair that seemed to have been taken straight from the freezer, he had a knitted sweater with an image of a skeleton smiling in the front and 6 colored hearts at the back that covered his whole torso, being a bit too big for him and so also frequently covering his hands. He seemed to also be wearing snow boots and strangely pants that didn't seem to be nearly as cold-proof as the rest of his attire.

"That was fun! I can't believe Kelly knew how to party, though I guess with all those super expensive balls the nobles like to throw I guess that's not a huge surprise"

The other kid nodded, seemingly fairly sleepy as he was struggling to walk without almost tripping.

"I told you! Next time listen to your little bro, he knows a thing or two about who can party" He chuckled.

The girl playfully pretend-punched his arm, missing it on propose by stopping right before it, but still pretending she hit it as and rolled her eyes.

"Well you usually don't go out much so how could I have know you were such an expert on it?"

The boy frowned a bit, rubbing the spot she pretended to punch.

"It's not my fault! Mr. Dad just has a lot of work for me in the lab, he keeps saying I don't need to help him all the time but I feel bad about it..."

The girl frowned and gently petted the air above his head.

"aw, I'm sorry chilly, you know I was just teasing you right?"

"Tell you what, you tell your father that you want to go out a bit and I will do all the boring lab work for you, deal?"

The boy perked up, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?...Well I can consider it, but I should probably teach you first how to do it"

The girl laughed, dramatically rolling her eyes.

"All you do is clean his lab stuff after each day of work, how hard can it be to clean a bunch of glass vials?"

[madam-wakefield]

Open when... Chapter 9

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn't sure how she's going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn't expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn't a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn't all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta'd. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when you feel ill…

It takes her feeling poorly to realise how much Bernie does for her when she’s around. She wakes up at 5am for her double shift, her alarm blaring too loudly in her ears, intensifying the headache she hadn’t been aware of two minutes before. 

She rolls over to silence it and it’s then that she realises her muscles ache. She sighs because she can not afford to be ill. 

She forces herself out of bed, wraps herself in her fluffiest dressing gown since she’s cold even for the time of year. She shuffles downstairs to make a drink, knowing Jason will be up soon and she can’t let him worry about her being ill. 

By the time she arrives at work her headache has turned into a migraine despite the tablets she’s taken. Every noise makes her head pound. She spends as much of her time in the office as possible, doing paperwork, all the stuff she can do by hand, head unable to deal with the artificial light of the computer screen. 

At lunch time she goes to Pulses, in need of a good strong coffee and perhaps a pastry. It’s not the soup Bernie normally cooks for her, but it will have to do because Bernie isn’t here. Her heart aches to have Bernie close, wonders what her brave soldier is doing at this very moment, and then feels so stupid for being so dramatic over being a little bit sick. She curses her own stupidity because she’s definitely got the better of their two deals. Her partner is in the middle of a war zone, for Christ’s sake! 

She goes back to AAU determined to actually do her job, visit patients and pick up some of the slack she’s placed on Raf and Morven that morning. She doses herself up on painkillers–safe ones–before she heads into theatre to deal with the red phone, 36-year-old RTC victim. The surgery is more complicated than she expects, with extreme injuries even for a car accident. Every time they patch a tear it seems they find a new one elsewhere. The surgery lasts for five hours and it’s as she’s washing down that she starts to sneeze. She’s only got an hour of her shift left and she’s determined to get through. 

She does her final ward round and heads to the nurses’ station to deposit a set of patient notes. 

“Ms. Campbell,” Morven says when she straightens up. “No offence, but you look awful, why don’t you head home? Your shift finishes in ten anyway. Get out before the red phone keeps you here all night.” 

Serena smiles at Morven, so thankful that she’s picked up on her feeling less than perfect. “You know what, Dr. Digby? I think I might just take you up on that offer.” She slips into the office, turns off her computer and makes a neat pile of paperwork she needs to finish. Before she pulls her coat down from the rack, wrapping it tightly round her, she feels cold even if her skin may feel like it’s on fire. She picks up her bag and heads for the door. Grateful that it’s fish and chips night and that she can ring in Jason’s order on the way to save her having to wait around. 

As she steps back into the ward Morven is standing there holding a box out to her. Her eyebrows knit together because she’s not expecting anything, hasn’t ordered anything and when she does she always orders it to the house, the elderly neighbour always takes parcels in for them. 

“What is that! And why would I want it?” Serena says perhaps a little too sharply, she instantly regrets it apologising quickly.

“It’s okay, no one likes being ill. But please just take it, don’t ask questions and open it when you get home,” Morven says, touching her arm gently. Serena wants to say that it’s a stupid idea, and why can’t she just open it here, save her having to find time to put the box in the recycling, but she doesn’t. Morven doesn’t deserve that, it’s not Morven’s fault she’s ill. She’s been amazing all day, picking up extra consults without Serena even having to ask. She may not have told them but every member of her AAU family knows she’s feeling like death warmed over. 

She arrives home, the smell of Jason’s supper turning her stomach, so she’s extremely glad that she had chosen not to get anything for herself. Right now all she wants to do is crawl into bed and never get out again. 

She places the box on the stairs and walks to the kitchen to set about plating up Jason’s dinner, calling him to let him know she’s home and it’s ready. She explains she’s not feeling well when he questions as to why she hasn’t got her own plate and excuses herself upstairs after reminding Jason that she loves him and that she’s here if he needs anything. 

Serena dresses in her warmest pyjamas, the ones she wouldn’t need if Bernie were here, her own personal radiator. Before climbing under the covers, propping herself up on the pillow and turning her attention to the box then. She folds back the flaps quickly but stops when she notices what’s inside. 

Bernie’s soup thermos, the same colour as that pink coat she loves so much, and that stupid folding army spoon that Serena always jokes about. She feels the lump start to form in her throat. 

She lifts the thermos, warm to the touch already. Unscrews the lid and is met by the smell of butternut squash soup, the kind Bernie always makes when she’s not feeling good. She swipes at her eyes, willing the tears trying to pool there to go away. It’s then that she notices the envelope, Bernie’s messy writing reading “Serena - Open when you feel ill…” 

She picks it up, finger tracing her name that Bernie herself had clearly written there. She turns it over and gently slides out the letter inside, and it even smells like her, Serena wonders if she’s sprayed it with her own perfume before writing. 

My Dearest Serena, 

If you are reading this, it means you are unwell. I’m so sorry that I can’t be there to hold you close, to kiss your forehead the way you like when you are feeling lousy. I’m sorry I’m not there to make you fresh soup the way I normally do, I hope the soup I made and had Morven freeze will help somewhat, I know how you struggle to eat when you are poorly. 

I’m sorry I’m not there to hear your snarky remark about my stupid folding spoon. I’m sorry that I can’t tuck you up in bed and take all the pain away. 

I know how much you hate being ill and right now I’d give anything to be by your side. While I’m not there to care for you please do it yourself, call in sick tomorrow if you need to. You and your health are important, my love, remember that if not for you, then for me. 

Go eat the soup now, I’ll expect a verdict on its post-frozen taste in my next bluey. While you eat, remember that I miss you so much each day and that every spare moment I have I spend thinking about you. When I wake up in the horrible dusty bunk in the morning you are the first thought on my mind, and when I close my eyes to sleep, yours is the last face I see. Also remember that I love you so much, and that I will be home to hold you in my arms soon. 

Feel better soon. 

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

By the time she has gotten to the bottom of the letter she is sobbing, hot tears dripping onto the page, because she misses Bernie so much. It’s not just that Bernie is so good to her, too good to her. While she was getting ready to head off to a war zone, Bernie took time to make sure she would look after herself if she were poorly and it makes her heart swell with love and pride.

She eats the soup and it’s almost as good as it is when it’s freshly made. And then she falls asleep, thinking only of her wonderful, amazing, thoughtful and, most of all, brave soldier! 

She does indeed have to ring in sick for the next three days, stupid flu! It’s only on the fourth day of feeling poorly that she can finally keep her eyes open for long enough without getting a headache to write Bernie a bluey in reply deciding it’s definitely time for another handwritten letter. 

Dear Bernie, 

You are incredible, amazing and selfless. I simply have no other words. How I ever got so lucky as for you to fall in love with me I will never know! To answer your question, your soup tastes almost as good in its post-frozen form. I definitely missed the kiss on my forehead though. You’ve probably guessed by now I’ve been poorly, but before you worry, I’m doing much better now. I took the days off work that I needed, and I feel well enough to go back tomorrow. I have two days back followed by a long weekend off. 

I just want to say thank you, how you managed to think of me so much whilst you were also getting ready to go out there, I just can’t comprehend, but once again, thank you. In return I thought you could do with a care package. I know it’s not the whiskey you probably really need now you’ve been gone for two months, but hopefully it’s at least a little bit of a morale boost. The jelly babies and Mars Bar are from Jason. 

I’m going to sign off now so I can take a gentle stroll to the post office to send it to you.

All my love, darling

Stay safe, soldier.

Serena x

Serena finishes the letter and places it on the top of the box filled with a variety of different sweets and goodies for Bernie, from her favourite hand cream to a couple of packets of savoury noodles for those days when the ration food is basically unstomachable. It doesn’t seem like enough but it’s all Serena can do, and she only hopes it brings a smile to Bernie’s face. 

[74daysofsewing]

McCalls 7006

I've started on this packet this week and... I'm not gonna lie, I'm not really loving it so far.

I've discovered I'm terrible at shoes - the pair the doll in the middle is wearing are... vile and misshapen and EXTREMELY hard to sew neatly. Actually looking at the picture you can see how uneven and wonky they look. The also suggest fabric for them, even though you can clearly see they are some kind of coated material like pleather, or vinyl.

Not only that, BUT the pattern packet suggests this super cute red vinyl jacket shown on the doll on the right should be made in twill or similar.... I know it's a little thing, but if you get the pattern pack, I kind of expect the instructions to show you how to get to the image? Obviously they won't tell you to get the colour or exact fabric but working with a material like that needs some different steps. They surely did NOT press those seams, or use pins!

This is my attempt at A and B. They are exactly the same except B has an applique on the front, which... is cheating. It makes it seem like there are more items in this pack and its already bloated to hell. I added an elastic in the white hem to try and combat the wavy edges I am CONSTANTLY getting with knits - this is user error and nothing to do with the pattern itself:

Now... I saw this jacket on the cover (the red one I complained about) and I knew exactly what I wanted to make it from. As I've mentioned in a previous post, I have built up a hoard of fabric and remnants over the years and although I might not use them, I certainly know what I have. I go through them every now and then, like a dragon with a special interest.

I had this light pink pearl faux leather/vinyl - its like a quarter yard and I found it in a offcuts box like 10 years ago, too small for anything.

But PERFECT for this:

Now - The size of this is wonky - so it's far more double breasted than the packet image, but I don't care because it meant that I could turn down the collar if I wanted and it looks fab. I used this IKEA floral I've had for a bit for the lining and honestly... aren't you in love? don't you just want this for yourself?

The skirt here is also from this pattern packet and... perhaps user error again but... I just didn't like it. i think maybe my netting was too stiff because gathering it down was a trial and a half, and the back ended up waaaaay chunky. However, the fit is good and it's the first skirt I've made in an age so it was fun to dress April up in something more girly.

Also Kass was not impressed by the baseball cap from the last pattern pack.

[milkweedman]

Finished knitting the samples (I don't know where my blocking pins are, sorry).

readmore because this was just obnoxiously long and i couldn't manage to easily condense it further. am gonna post a much shorter little summary in a bit though.

The square on the left is the hand combed stuff (the yellow is hand combed as well), the square on the right is the palm combed and picked combined--I trust you can tell which is which, but in case not, the picked is much more textured lower section, and the yellow yarn separates the two preps. (I added it in part because I wanted to do another test prep and spin just to measure the prepping time, which I talk about more below). The yellow in that square is just palm combed--I didn't do any picked yellow at all.

The bottom image shows both squares folded in half so you can see the halo (fancy word for the soft fuzz that surrounds all wool yarn, which is very easy to see when knit like this, if you didn't know)--I don't actually know if less halo=fibers more aligned (i.e. better worsted) or if it's just correlation, but you can see that the picked yarn in particular has quite a lot of halo compared to the others.

Regardless, while there's a little bit more of a halo on the palm combed than the hand combed, they don't feel noticeably different, and I don't think anyone not already aware that only one was produced on actual hand combs would notice or batt an eyelash.

I didn't actually take any pictures of my timed test (wasn't much to photograph, had a migraine, and I don't necessarily think that the numbers mean a whole lot per se), but it was using aforementioned yellow rya lambswool fleece, which are medium long, very curly, and somewhat crimpy. I just combed a double handful's worth of locks on my hand combs and palm comb each.

The hand combs took about 10 minutes; the palm comb about 13. This definitely indicates to me that a palm comb is as viable a way to get through a fleece as hand combs are, even if it may be slower. I say may because I have far less experience with a palm comb than with my hand combs, and I have become faster with all my fiber prep tools with time. Of course, everyone is different speeds on different tools anyway, so I don't think "faster or slower than hand cards" is as helpful of a metric as "in roughly the same range as hand cards".

I will also say that the processing time when I was doing five different breeds varied quite a bit depending on crimp, staple length, and amount of vm. The fastest fiber to process on the palm comb was that Ouessant, which had a medium staple length, not much crimp, and zero vm (on hand cards, fastest was Rambouillet). The more crimp there is the more the locks want to maintain their structure, so they need to be physically combed open more, which takes longer no matter what tool you're using, to varying extents (and the rya I tested just now is extremely crimpy). Very short fibers and very long fibers both add time, as does additional vm. All of that is also true for hand cards, but hand combs are better equipped to deal with those issues, since you can pass fiber back and forth, since you have much more space on the tines, and since you can comb from several directions.

So palm combs seem to do best with medium length, fairly straight fibers with little to no vm, but can handle fibers that are none of those and still end up with a spinnable product--even a pretty damn good product, in most cases. I wouldn't call the palm combed Cormo very successful--it was definitely slower to prep that short of a staple length (1 inch/2.5cm) on the palm combs, to the extent that I didn't process it completely bc it was just taking so long.

That test did also show a few other things that I hadn't been looking for; notably that the hand combs produce way more combing waste. With palm combs, you're almost never leaving usable fibers behind on the tines unless they're all tangled and knotted from haphazard loading, since you're always pulling it off by hand. Whereas on hand combs, you do that every time you finish transferring the fibers from one comb to the other, unless you want to spend a lot of extra time trying to get the last few or get them by hand (maybe this is less of an issue if you use them with one secured to something--I never have, so I don't like to put one comb down because it's so sharp and dangerous). So my combing waste pile for the hand cards has tons of usable fibers that were just left on the combs, whereas my palm comb waste pile is almost entirely short or knotted fibers.

You can of course reprocess hand combing waste to get those long fibers back--but that adds a significant amount of extra time.

Anyway, im gonna try and condense all of this into a single much shorter post tomorrow, but im really excited about these results--this $2 USD plastic comb is literally a smaller mutated pair of $90 USD hand combs (with those having been a bargain--you often see $150+). Like... that's also much cheaper than hand cards are --those have skyrocketed in price recently, geez... almost $80 USD if you want a pair with a decent size brush, so that would definitely a gamechanger there.

So, I wanted to get back to that palm comb idea, especially since I finally found what I think is a good comb to use. I'm going to try comparing three methods--hand combing, palm combing, and then just teasing by hand.

Left: the comb for palm combing. This is just a cheap plastic hair comb--the only crucial thing that I'm aware of so far is that the tines need to be evenly spaced (so not one of those graded combs that are fine at one end) and not too close together.

Right: my hand combs. These are just standard two row combs, nothing special or particular about them.

The fibers, from left to right:

1. Ouessant. Stand in for your average fairly fine medium length wool.

2. Cormo (looks all weird bc it's been dyed with baking soda as a modifier, which tends to clump it. Not felted). Very short stapled wool, very fine.

3. Jacob. This particular Jacob is a little greasy and quite strong. Stand in for any coarse wool.

4. Rambouillet. Very fine, but also tons of fine vm. Want to see if I can get any of that out--it's the kind that's too fine to pick out by hand, so.

I already know the palm comb can produce a somewhat worsted prep--but I never did figure out how to spin true worsted yarn on spindles of any kind, and can only do it on my wheel. So I'm going to try spinning all three preps on my wheel into a worsted yarn, and see how they compare.

I also want to figure out a little bit more about speed--I think the palm combs are slightly faster, so if they're almost as good a prep, that would be a good advantage !

Will do all my preps and report back with pictures.

[somasean]

One Day. - Cove Holden

content: fluff, indirect kissing if you squint, cove being cove

an: I've got cove brainrot and haven't felt this happy to have a character like this since i first watched howl's moving castle. also, this is inspired by my sappy drafts that i let my friend sam read over and then had google randomly pick a number for.

♤♤♤♤

'Ugh, it shouldn't be this hard. You've known other for years now. Just say it already.' Your erased your current message and stared down at your phone screen, harshly illuminating your face in the extremely dim room. The phone's cursor stared just as intensely back at you, waiting for you find a message that would be the perfect balance between a slight forcefulness and playful teasing. You didn't want to scare Cove away.

Not that he'd be scared off by your advances anyway. Sure, he was timid and shy when it came to his true - romantic, or as he called it, "friends but better" - feelings. You've come to enjoy seeing his face light ablaze whenever you would do something as simple as graze your hand down his back or domestic as call him "honey." You'd never dream of making him uncomfortable or rushing him, but boy did you want him to do something other than just holding your hand.

You've known each other for a decade now. A painfully short and blissful 10 years. And in all of those years the most you've done is kiss him when you were 13. The memory crawls its way back to the front of your mind sometimes and you can't help but let out a snicker at his reaction each time.

Man. He truly was the sweetest person you've known throughout your life but he was also the most annoying sometimes.

You chewed on your bottom lip and watched the time on your phone's notification bar tick away. You had to say something soon, otherwise it would become too "socially unacceptable" to send a message. Who even decided that messages needed to be replied to in a set amount of time anyway?

Yet another message was typed out and then quickly deleted. It shouldn't be this hard. Maybe you should just type out what you mean, send it, and then prepare plans to move away to the Appalachian mountains if he reacted too badly? You could learn to live with the cold, it wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as potentially sending one of the few people you really knew away.

You closed your eyes and typed out an approximate of your message, hoping autocorrect wouldn't turn its back against you. You scanned over his previous message a multitude of times - four? maybe five times, keeping track is tough - to ensure you said everything you needed to in one message. Who thought that double texting could be considered a social death sentence?

'Cove 🦈: haha, you put chapstick on so much i swear it's rubbed off onto me. not that i mind though, youve got a lot of good smelling ones

hey, wait!

you should let me borrow one sometime! i'll always carry it on me as well in case you ever forget yours.'

To Cove, this was probably didn't register as anything other than a friendly gesture. You had the half the mind to climb into his room instead, say something along the lines of "if you wanted to kiss that much, you could just ask" and watch him as he sputters trying to recover.

You'd spare the boy the embarrassment.

This time.

"Next time, Holden." One thumb hovered over the send button and the other was latched between your teeth, the nail far too short to bite down on now anyway.

"Fuck it." You don't know what happened first. Your finger finally pressing send or your hand covering your eyes as if you were the unwilling victim of a flash photo.

Was it too late to unsend it? Maybe you could sneak into his room and delete it if he were asleep. You could learn to knit warm sweaters from alpaca wool and scavenge the Appalachian forests if you needed to.

Can you say you lost your phone? Would he even believe that? Maybe say you left it at the beach and-

A quiet chime and quick buzzing brought all of your thoughts to a halt. Your hand flew away from your face and you struggled to input your passcode. There was only one reason your phone would go off this late. Your message stared back at you.

'i swear you are going to kill me that's literally just complicated kissing

it might not be today. it might not be tomorrow. but one day, cove james holden. one day im gonna kiss you and you wont be able to do anything about it >:-('

He had seen it. The double check marks were enough indication of that, yet there wasn't a reply. Your eyes darted around your screen looking for the source of the buzzing before you saw a small email symbol staring back at you, calling the notification bar its home.

You closed your eyes tightly and pulled your blanket to your chest. What else do you need to live in such harsh climates? You could become a local legend, a myth that's used to teach kids to behave and mind their manners. At least you wouldn't be left on read in fairytales.

You almost didn't hear the tapping at your window or the creak of someone inviting themself in. The feeling of someone sitting on the edge of your bed didn't register until their hand reached out towards yours and removed your phone from your grasp.

"Taking a vacation without me?"

Cove's all too familiar laugh filled your room and for a split second yout were going to tell him to keep it down, that you were too busy sulking, before the realization hit you.

Was your message really that bad that he'd come to laugh at you in person? He was going to help you pack your bags for sure. There was no other logical reason why he'd be here.

Maybe it was a stroke of luck that the moon broke through a cloud or maybe Cove just lit up the room that much, but you could make out the faint traces of a blush forming on his fsce. It slowly spread from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears.

"Uh." He cleared his thought and gave you a small smile thst signaled that he was trying. "Aha..." One of his hands tangled itself in his overly messy hair and the other crept ever close towards you. He was avoiding your gaze and you couldn't decipher if it was between him finding a way to end all contact with you or if he wanted something else with your sleep deprived mind.

As you were about to say something, anything to break the tension, Cove's hands pulled away from their current mindless task and he balled them into a small fist. To anyone else, this was sure of been terrifying, especially with the suddenly determined look etched onto his features.

Oh the duality of man. The duality of Cove Holden actually.

"I always like how the cherry chaptsticks smell when you use them. I'd like to use one. My lips are," His hands began to flex as if he were playing with a stress ball.

Opening. Stretching out. Closing. Repeat.

Maybe Cove wasn't gonna be the reason you became a local cryptid afterall. "Chapped. And it looks so much more useful when you're the one wearing it so..."

This man was going to be the death of you though.

Your hands found their ways towards Cove in the dim room and you pulled him close. Maybe it was the fact you two were in an actual realtionship that made it much more tense, two adults alone in a dark room, or the chance to finally kiss Cove but you were sure anyone passing by would mistake your heartbeats for a something as loud as plane rutters.

"It's a good thing I'm always stocked up then." You closed the gap between you two and let your hands rest in Cove's disaster of bedhead.

Maybe not today, but one day.

One day, you're going to kiss Cove Holden as much as you want and he'd have no choice but to enjoy your affection.