#time to learn how to use a thimble

[kitnjon]

I will be forever glad I was a Jonsa in 2019. The fics were truly the best thing to come out of season 8.

Do you have a season 8 fic recommendations??

Yeah those fics really helped us after the trauma d&d put us through right? I started reading jonsa fics around the same time to get over S8 ending. I had read a lot of S8 fix it fics back then but didnt have ao3 account so unfortunately I don't have many of them bookmarked :( Sharing a few I can recall reading and was able to find.

they tumble down by thimbleful

He meets her gaze for the shortest moment before turning to look out over the woods, gesturing at it with a gloved hand. “Is this why you brought me here? To talk about memories?” “No. I wanted to talk about marriage.” When Sansa suggests it's time for her and Jon to marry, she means they should make marriage alliances with the other Northern houses. Jon, though, assumes she means they should marry each other. A post s7 story where Jon and Sansa struggle to navigate their new political landscape while suppressing their feelings for one another, Arya does everything in her power to protect her pack, and Bran and Sam try to figure out how to kill the Night King.

2. intentions of gold (with my plans) by @jonsaslove

this is a series of one shots that follow a loose season 8 au. each episode has a fic and it works under the premise that Jon and Sansa orchestrated political!jon back in season 7 and planned to have him manipulate Daenerys into coming north.

3. victory is in my veins (oh ye of so little faith) by Lady_Alice

“Jon,” Sansa says quietly, her hands twisting together in front of her. “Tell me the truth. Do you love her?” He starts, eyes widening. “Love her?” That’s all the confirmation she needs, but Jon rushes onward, stepping closer to her, hands outstretched and voice nervous, reassuring, as if he were a husband swearing to his wife that he loves only her. “Sansa, no, no, gods, after this, I hope I never have to see her again.” // The Season 8 we deserved. (and that the characters deserved) (yeah i'll die mad about s8, sue me)

4. and no net ensnares me by thimbleful

Since Jon left, Sansa has struggled to keep things together and she longs for his return. However, when he does return things only become worse. Jon learns about his parentage and doesn't know how to make sense of anything, how to fix the inevitable mess the reveal will create, or how to protect the people he loves. But at least, after all these years, the pack is finally back together. Then, one day, Sansa disappears. Post season 7 fic.

5. such simple words (such a complicated truth) by thimbleful

"You don’t have the right name to make men rally behind you, you don’t have any armies nor land or a castle or--” “No, but I do.” Sansa drops her necklace and Jon shifts in his seat to get away from the twisting sensation in his stomach. He knows where this is going: his depraved dreams come true under the worst possible circumstances. Jon and Sansa get married and consummate that marriage. That's it. That's the fic.

6. what do you want (that you do not have) by thimbleful

When the Winterfellians learn that Cersei has hired men to kidnap Sansa, they decide that Sansa needs to run away and Jon volunteers to protect her. During their travels the tension builds between them--especially after Jon suffers an injury and they're taken in by an older couple. Because, in hopes of protecting their identities, Jon and Sansa have to pretend to be happily married and in love. Every day. In close quarters. For quite some time. Takes place after the war against the NK is won. Not a kidnapping fic.

7. soldier, go bravely on by @missfaber

King's Landing is ash. The game is revealed. Jon Snow faces the consequences of his choices. Daenerys Targaryen seeks subservience from all. Sansa Stark will not go quietly. Westeros hangs in the balance. + an alternate ending for Game of Thrones. 8.x06 fix-it fic

8. we are buried in broken dreams by @writerbri-archive

Prompt: Sansa and Jon sleeping together before he goes to Dragonstone and when he comes back he finds out she is pregnant. A full on s8 fix-it fic at this point.

9. A Time for Wolves by missgreeneinthlibrary

Winter was coming. Now it's here. Season 8 reimagined with a Jonsa twist.

[itsa-me-lily]

Soooooo....This was not how I originally planned on how y'all shared a bed for the first time...buuuuuuuuuuuuuut this is what you got. I tried some stuff, I think they worked but not 100% sure. Honestly I could way to post this in the morning and give it another look over, but I really don't want to wait that long, and I'm worried I'll over think it.

As always here's the rest of Simon & Thimble Playlist

Here's the MPS Au Masterlist

Content warning; Death, violence, nightmare, kind of very vague description of panicking? Let me know if I miss anything

The first time the two of you actually share a bed, only one of you is sleeping. It's been nearly six months since you both signed your marriage license. And even though the time spent together under the same roof can probably only add up to a couple months, it hasn't been terrible.

Sure there's the period of growing pains, learning to co-exist with another human being when you're so used to being alone. Petty arguments and even pettier revenges. Hell you even had to go and explain your sex life, or lack there of, to the entirety of Simon's team. But even with the ups and downs, it hasn't not been worth it.

The night you share a bed, Simon has been back from a mission for a week now. It wasn't good. Really none of them are actually good, just varying degrees of what can be shoved down and ignored. Hostages were involved, a fire fight broke out. Their rescue mission became a recovery one.

Death wasn't something new to any of them. It clung to their skin. Ghost practically exuded it. He was the omen of the end to everyone who stood against him. At times he was judge, jury, and especially executioner. Ghost was a walking death. But there was something that knocked him off kilter, once the shooting had stopped and the team started the futile task of checking for survivors.

The woman looked nothing like you, really there wasn't anything similar and yet it was her eyes. Once Ghost caught sight of her eyes Simon felt something rattle in his chest. For some reason her eyes reminded Simon of yours. Only hers were dull now, lacking any spark that showed a hint of life. Simon stared for a second too long before crouching down to gently close her eyes. Ghost stood back up to continue checking. He didn't look at any other eyes.

When he came back, Simon wouldn't really look at you. His eyes would flicker to your face for a millisecond at a time, to show he was listening as much as he could, but for the most part it felt like he was trying to burn a hole into your left ear.

You just figure that he's being...well, Simon. Sometimes he went from not making a lot of eye contact to staring into the depth of your soul to make you confess every sin you even thought of committing. Just something that made him...him.

He was grateful you didn't push. He couldn't explain why he dreaded the idea of looking into your eyes. Well he could guess a theory or two, but that would mean admitting that maybe, maybe you meant a sliver of something. It all came to a head though with the nightmare.

Ghost was back in the firefight, ears ringing from the number of shots being fired and screaming being torn from people's throat. It felt like it would be unending, a vortex of sound and violence that would swallow him whole. Until it didn't. Until it suddenly became so quiet he could hear his heart and breathing.

Only...it wasn't his breathing.

His breaths weren't uneven struggles that had that wet struggling sound.

Ghost wasn't in control of his feet as he started moving forward, or when he stopped.

Ghost wasn't in control of his neck as he started to look down at what was making that struggling wet sound.

Ghost couldn't make himself stop from looking at you laying on the ground, chest making sad futile efforts to keep pulling in breath to keep you alive. Until it didn't

Ghost couldn't avert his eyes when they met yours; cold, empty, and dead.

Simon woke up choking on a gasp, fingers clutching the handmade blankets as if each stitch could shield him from the horrors his mind made him live through. He couldn't see the ceiling for minutes at least, unable to get his bearing as to where he was.

Slowly he could though. He came back to himself and to the four walls around him. To the dresser that housed your clothes and the weird little knick knacks you insisted on collecting. He felt the weight of the blankets on top of him and how they pushed him into the bed.

He came back to himself, in his bedroom, alone.

He had to remind himself that you were real, that he had just been talked at by you this afternoon. You were just in the living room. Too far away.

He probably shouldn't have done it, should have just flicked a light on, or tried to go back to sleep, but Simon had the clawing need to see you. So he got up quietly, used his stealth to make it the living room where the weak barely there rays of early morning were starting to lighten the room.

His mind couldn't hold onto any thought besides just looking at you. Sprawled out on the right side of the pull out, face half buried as you laid on your front, leg hiked up as if you were attempting a very poor man's army crawl. There was just enough space for him to sit along the head of the bed with you, and the fact he did so without waking you up was impressive. Or you were just that deep of a sleeper.

You didn't even seem to notice how intensely Simon stared at you. It was as if he was trying to commit to memory the way your eye lashes rested against your cheek, or how the way you were resting your head caused your lips to just barely pout. It should have been obvious that seeing you drool in your sleep would force him to cheer up, just a little bit. He counted the number of times your back moved with your breathing, until the number was high enough that it started to push away the idea that it would stop.

Simon spent hours just watching you. Letting the sounds of your gentle snoring and mumblings wash over him. For a second he debated seeing if he could get you to argue with him in your sleep...though...maybe he'd try that a different night.

And when the actual morning came to greet you both, Simon took extra care to watch as your eyes fluttered open. He took in the sleepy way you took in the world, eyes hazy but warm and alive.

[masterrainbowcat]

you keep calling me stupid but on several occassions you have misunderstood what was being written, like most semi-literate weebs you reading comprehension is below par. this isn't about him 'insulting books', you moron. dora was calling other people stupid and uninformed saying that there are ENTIRE BOOKS that proved him right. when asked in a friendly manner by me and someone else which books he was referring to he just ignored us. when i pressed him he came out w/ ad hominem attacks instead of titles and authors. he "couldn't remember" as it had been 5 years already since he'd read them. THERE ARE NO SERIOUS BOOKS THAT CLAIM FASCISM IS A LEFTWING IDEOLOGY. look it up, fool. this is a guy who made several hours worth of videos on youtube whining about how people on tumblr should learn to think critically and that their opinions lack nuance while continually posting lies and reactionary shit takes. when called out on other things by other people the pattern repeats. "i'm more literate than you" he told the chatbot account, and "i've read marx". fucking lying poser. so, maybe now you can understand why i don't have any qualms about making him my lolcow. hope this wasn't too much text for you to process otaku, have fun jerking off to cartoon girls.

So for context, this gent has been harassing @yourtoradorasextendedwarranty for months now, and this is his explanation for why. I assumed it was something to do with Tora insulting books Babi liked, since Babi has thimble-dick opinions on other mediums, but somehow Babi wrote this whole thing and didn’t think for a second that it was more embarrassing than what I assumed. “An argument didn’t go well so I’m gonna be a schoolyard bully.” That’s how you know he’s a man of character.

The reason you wouldn’t have seen these exchanges is because Babi spends most of his time spamming replies so that people can’t make fun of him as easily. Of course, considering one of the few times Babi did reblog, he admitted he didn’t graduate high school and uses AI in arguments, I can see why he’d want to avoid embarrassing himself to whatever followers he has. I suspect he also has a side blog where he LARPs as a fact checker that uses AI to write posts, but I can’t verify that beyond Tora being a target of that blog as well.

Babi also has a hate boner for anime, which with previous evidence suggests he is perpetually stuck in high school. Though I did get a chuckle out of his ad hominem about me “jacking it to cartoon girls”. Yeah, THAT’S the vibe my blog gives off.

But anyway, this is a man who:

* happily admits to harassing people like a bully

* has a weird reverence for AI and is proud to use it

* hides in the replies and potentially side blogs because he lacks the confidence to have his material show on his blog most of the time

and yet:

* is desperate to convince people his ideology is the right, good, and smart one

It’s the epitome of a comedy of errors.

[littlewitchygreen]

Zero Cost Witchcraft

When I first started learning witchcraft, I remember seeing a lot of people bemoaning the fact that witchcraft cost so much, and even a few people who seemed disheartened by the fact that they’d never be able to start due to the cost. In a fictional book I was reading around that time, that incorporated modern witchcraft and paganism in it, even the main character made a comment about how much witchcraft and pagan practices cost. To this day, I continue to see similar posts and stories from people, and it always makes me twitch a little because witchcraft doesn’t have to be that and I’m frustrated that it’s presented that way so often.

So, here is a non-exhaustive list of various ways to practice witchcraft for free - or at least enough of it to get you started in the general sphere of things.

Energy Manipulation/Spellwork

At its core, witchcraft is the practice of manipulating energy into the form you want it to take. If you look at quantum physics, attention and expectation can change the way quantum mechanics present themselves in experiments, and it is my personal belief that witchcraft harnesses this phenomenon through the form of intentional energy manipulation.

The great news? Energy manipulation doesn’t cost a thing to do or to learn. You can learn to manipulate your own energy to do magic, or you can draw energy from the earth, fire, the stars, darkness, the moon and sun, the wind, sound. There are so many sources of energy to tap into - and while they might be easier to tap into with tools and leave you with more energy after a working to not use your own energy, you are absolutely able to do magic with just that.

Tools

As we are talking about using tools already, let’s talk about how to get supplies for the craft without spending anything. Jars for holding supplies or for spells can be obtained from washing out food jars, medicine bottles, or even be made from folding in the ends of paper towel or toilet paper rolls so that they form a container. Herbs and other plants can be obtained either from your kitchen where you already have them, or from wildcrafting what you need from your surroundings (just be sure to do so ethically, safely, and responsibly - there should be a variety of posts circulating around witchblr about how to do that). You don’t even need to gather anything fancy - as I mentioned in a past post, historically witches did not have access to the vast array of stones, woods, spices, incenses, etc that we have in the modern day, and they were still able to practice just fine so get creative. For elemental magic, you can get focuses from your surroundings - water from the rain or the tap, earth or stones from the ground, air from smoke or the wind, and fire from candle flame (or other kinds) or the sun. For material tools used in certain paths, you can use what you already have. A cup or thimble for a chalice, a sharp or dull knife for an athame, a found stick or a needle for a wand (or even your finger), a bowl you own for an offering dish or a general container while working.

Divination

For divination, there are a lot of ways to do it without buying tools. A bowl filled with water or a candle flame can be used for scrying. Dream magic can be used for prophetic dreams. A pendulum just needs to be something with weight suspended using something else - a stone tied to a string, a piece of fruit suspended with hair, a necklace you have, there are all kinds of options. For cartomancy, if you have a deck of cards you can use that, looking up the ways it translates to divination, or you can make your own tarot deck or deck of playing cards to use. I’ve heard from others who have tried this method that it generally works best if you have a decent understanding of the cards’ meanings when making them, but that it isn’t required to get a functional result. You can draw your own runestones and put them in one of the jars mentioned earlier to draw them out of. Palm-reading is a popular and common method of divination that doesn’t require anything but a pair of hands. You can even explore less common methods of divination, like reading bird flight, lightning patterns, bibliomancy, or by the shapes of shadows. There are quite literally hundreds of methods of divination created and practiced throughout history, despite the handful of major methods commonly practiced in the modern day - feel free to get creative.

Learn

You can also always learn about the theory of witchcraft if you aren’t currently in a place where you feel you can practice it. There are hundreds of witchcraft books available online in PDF format, and if you have a public library near you, chances are they might have a few books in the nonfiction section (if you live somewhere that uses the Dewey Decimal System, it’s usually in the 000s). Depending on the rules, some bookstores will also allow you to spend time in the store and read, and a growing number are carrying books on witchcraft.

For a more hands-on approach, you can also try learning from the tools and materials you intend to use. There are quite a few practice exercises around out there describing how to sense the energy of the elements, plants, etc, and I covered how you might get your hands on things like that for free earlier.

I know it is frustrating when you want to get the same tools and supplies as everyone else but those specific tools cost more than can be justified - I’ve been there myself. But when that happened, I looked to the past to see what alternatives could be used and to fellow witches about their solutions to the problem, so I hope this (incomplete) list can help you too! Best wishes!

[vmures]

Art is a tool for expression and conveying emotions, ideas, and experiences. While art always carries seeds of its creator, it also becomes so much more than that once it is let free into the world. It becomes a conversation, a layered thing with different meanings and impacts on different people.

Humans are complex beings and everyone can create art. It can be heartbreaking and infuriating to learn that the creator of a piece of art that profoundly influenced you and changed you, that has become part of you, is a horrible, vile person. But it is important to remember that their art is more than the creator themself. Liking the art and finding meaning in it doesn't make you a horrible person.

It is also very valid to be unable to see the art the same way after you learn about the creator. Everyone has to wrestle with their own relationship to the art in question and how they know view it. You can still appreciate the meaning it had for you once upon a time while acknowledging that it hits differently now.

Often the hardest thing is not the fact that the creator is a vile person, but that they built a convincing mask of being kind and encouraging to others. While we often understand that public personas are not who people really are, when someone makes kindness their brand, it feels like a betrayal to learn that they have been using that mask to prey on others. I know for me, there is a part of me that is mad at falling for the con and that knows I would have been perfect prey because I fell for it.

So when such an unmasking happens, as it so often does, the best advice I can offer is this: be kind, to yourself and to others, as you all wrestle with this paradigm shift. Give yourself space and let yourself feel what you feel. Learn from it. Remind yourself that what we know of creators usually fills less than a thimble if we could distill knowledge into liquid. We know their art, but not them. We can appreciate that they make compelling art without putting them on a pedestal. Remind yourself that all creators are human and pedestals are dangerous places to put anyone, because inevitably you will be let down.

[sonicenvy]

She's DONE!!!!! After far too many moons I finally finished this embroidery project.

This is biggest project I've done to date and I learned a LOT! How I got here:

Found a photo of a paper kite butterfly that I liked, downloaded it and pumped up the contrast for ease of tracing.

Printed out my reference photo, taped it to my light box and traced it in pencil

Color blocked in colored pencil

Scanned drawing into computer and digitally touched up in photoshop

Printed drawing out onto sulky washable fabri solvy and adhered to stretched fabric in hoop

So. Much. Stitching.

Wash remaining fabri-solvy out with warm water

Stretch wet fabric onto hoop and wrap in towels to dry over night

Cleaned up edges by closing them behind the hoop with a long running stitch.

This was almost all just long and short stitches with single strands of thread (though there were also some stem stitches (? It's been a long, long, time since I did that stitched so I can't be 100% certain) involved in outlining some things, and a few areas that I initially started with more strands before decided it looked bad and nixing that.)

I had never done much with long and short and satin stitches before because I sucked at them, so this was a huge challenge project for me. I also had never done gradients before. Fortunately several people on this fine sub offered some helpful tips on the gradients, the long and short stitches and the satin stitches when I asked!

I learned a lot as I went through this project and you can really trace that throughout because I definitely noticed that my stitching got better from wing to wing. I started in the top right wing and went around clockwise until I was finished. A big thing that I learned along the way that made things a lot better was how important the direction of the stitches actually is and how in this kind of project having most of them facing in (vaguely) the same direction looks better.

Several things that I learned in the course of this project:

This fabric that I used for this project sucks and I should never use it for another project ever again lmao

Matching your needle size both to the number of strands you're doing and the tolerance of your fabric makes a huge difference. I started this project with an embroidery needle that was way too big for the fabric that I was using and that punched pretty big holes in it that it did not like. Since I was doing single strand I eventually ended up switching to a regular, very fine sewing needle.

Make sure that all of the threads that you pick are ones that are still in production and that you know what their number codes are. I only barely managed to avoid running out of the one thread that I picked that wasn't a standard DMC color that I could rebuy.

Write down what the colors are that you are using for the project so that future you knows that stuff. I made a little table in a numbers document with this info. The R426 and R420 were threads that I purchased at a charity shop as a part of a bulk bin of flosses. As far as I could tell the company that made these threads no longer exists and they were probably from the 1970s.

Having a hoop with a Phillips head adjustable tension screw is a game changer because you can key in a LOT more tension which is awesome for bulky piles and piles of long and short and satin stitches. I liked using that hoop (dark colored one) so much for stitching that I actually remounted this project in a less nice hoop after it was done lol!

The adhesive in fabri solvy fails after a certain amount of time + repeated re-stretchings. Tack down edges with light stitching in the future?

Having a thimble to help push thread through particularly thick locations is a godsend. Thank you to my mom for giving me her granny's pretty thimbles; they rock.

Making your edges outside the hoop longer and more even is better for tucking it in the back at the end with a running stitch. There were some very uneven and awkward bits that made that difficult.

[thehaberdasheress]

This week we did the first two live markets of the year!

To be honest, the net profit was -$10 at one and positive $55 at another, but while I wish they made more, I don't just do these for the money.

It was great and chaotic and a huge learning experience, figuring out how to visually present all our products and demonstrate them to people.

Every market, I get more information on what works and what doesn't. Last week I spent time in the woodshop making different display elements, like a turntable to put all my embroidery patterns on, and now I've learned I need to change one of the base plates to make it turn smoothly. The signs and packaging that I made were way too small for people to easily make out from a normal standing distance—I'm way too used to working with photography that captures all the details, not thinking about how it gets viewed from 20 feet back.

Also, I'm working on building up stock of sewing supplies! In three categories:

Premade tools, unadulterated (buttonhole gauges, thimbles, scissors, etc)

Convenient package sizes I've made of tools and materials (thread wax buttons, bobbins of thread made from natural fibers and/or dyed using pre-modern techniques, sewing kits, etc)

Custom kits for common projects, like an embroidered belt purse or a blackworked renaissance shirt, with materials and detailed step-by-step instructions

When will any of these be up on Etsy? I wish I could tell you. My bank gave me a wee bit of funding so I could afford to hire a part-time online marketing assistant, but unfortunately she's been having some health issues lately. Hopefully she gets better soon, but until then, I can't give you an ETA.

[vodika-vibes]

Can I ask for tech, opal, winter time and learning how to snowboard

Mountain Romance

Summary: You bring Tech on his very first vacation to a mountain cabin that you used to visit with your family. While there, you decide to teach him how to snowboard.

Pairing: TBB Tech x Reader

Word Count: 642

Prompts: Opal - Faithful Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Full disclosure, everything I know about snowboarding wouldn't even fill a thimble, lol. So I kind of skipped over the majority of that to focus on their relationship, I hope you don't mind?

“Are you quite sure that this is safe?” Tech asks as he skeptically eyes the snowboard leaning against the cabin.

“Sure! I’ve been snowboarding since I was a child.��

He turns his skeptical gaze to you, “And you have never broken a bone while doing so?”

“I…er…I wouldn’t go quite that far-” You admit with a sheepish laugh.

He arches a single brow and pins you in place with a pointed look, “So you have.”

“Oh, come on.” You hurry over to him, and take both of his hands in yours, “You’re so talented at everything you do! I know you’ll be great at this. Do you trust me?”

He sighs, “You know that I do.” Tech squeezes your hands gently, “If you really want to teach me, then I will happily let you.”

You release a happy giggle and fling your arms around his neck, “You get to teach me so much that I don’t know, so this is exciting!”

Tech’s arms slide securely around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to your temple, seeming to relax against you the longer you hold him. 

“So,” You mumble after a few moments, “Are you ready?”

HIs arms tighten around you, “I suppose. Though, I have to admit that I had different ideas in mind when you said that you wanted to bring me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

You giggle, “Oh, we can do that too!”

He shoots you a look, “I did not specify what I had in mind.”

At that, your grin widens and you poke his nose, “I know you and I know your brain, my clever handsome man.”

He doesn’t look the least bit sheepish, just amused. “So, how does this work?”

You beam at him and tug him over to the board, an explanation already on the tip of your tongue.

Three hours later, the pair of you retire back to the cabin. 

True to your beliefs, as soon as Tech understood how to snowboard, he excelled at it. But you really didn’t expect anything different. He is skilled at just about everything he puts his mind to after all.

“I do not like that trainer you introduced me to.” Tech says as he holds open the door for you before following you into the warmth of the cabin. “To be more specific, I do not like how he looked at you.”

You pull your winter gear off, and shoot him an amused look, “He’s known me since I was a child, Tech.”

“That makes the way he looked at you even more inappropriate.” Tech grumbles.

You laugh and reach out to press your hand against his cheek, “Hey, you know that you don’t have to worry about him, right?”

Tech sighs and presses his hand over yours, “I am not worried about you. How could I be when I see how you look at me? That does not mean that I have to appreciate how he looks at you.”

“That’s true.” You stand on your toes to more easily slide your arms around his neck, “How’s this, then? I won’t interact with him anymore. It’s not like I’m friends with him.”

He slides his arms around your waist, “You do not have to do that. I just want you to be careful around him.” A small smile crosses his lips, “Afterall, I know that you are faithful to me. Just as faithful as I am to you.”

You feel warmth spread through your body, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You whisper to him. 

“I do. You show me every day.” He kisses the palm of your hand, and then pulls you into a proper kiss, “Tomorrow,” Tech murmurs, “I want to stay in with you. Can we do that?”

“Yes.” You say against his lips, “Absolutely.”

[kursed-curtain]

People said they wanted to hear me talk about the four stick OCs I haven't talked much about so here's a really messy ramble!!

Topper Robbins (he/him)

Toppat Clan founder and the first Toppat Leader (in my lore ;0)

A hat maker! If they're going to be committing crimes they're going to do it in ✨ style~

Started the clan with his best friend and a few connections each of them had - Topper knew a few influential figures who could help with the clan's goals.

Every Toppat leader in my lore has a golden trinket! Topper's was a golden thimble, that he wore on him most of the time.

Loves burning things a bit too much...

Eventually his greed got to his head and he n' his friend Nexton had a falling out.

Died in a fire but some of his body was recoverable, including his golden thimble.

Nexton Komand (he/they)

Topper's assistant and the first Right Hand of the clan

A Robin Hood-esque thief, stole to assist people in need.

Tends to scour trash heaps for anything of use. Not particularly tech savvy, but can eventually figure out how something works with enough time

Used to be Topper's best friend. Nexton brought in skilled fighters, fellow criminals, and people who wanted to support their families.

Started losing sight of their original vision, stealing things for the sake of the clan, and not thinking about the people who were affected in the process.

Noticed Topper's greed and called him out on that, which was one major point that led to their friendship shattering

Died in the same fire as Topper, with most of their body salvageable, as well as bits of their top hat.

Lacey Waystop (she/her)

A loner in a cabin in the woods, who coincidentally tends to come across wanderers and help them on their way

Tends to be sweet and forgiving, but is not a pushover, and does not appreciate when her kindness is taken advantage of

Give your share and show some heart and she will continue being kind in return ^^

Had one run-in with Randy Radman and another, separate one with Terrence Suave - Both learned absolutely nothing when Lacey tried to teach them a lesson.

Blind, and tends to judge only based on actions.

Eventually runs into T.R.N.K., who gets taught a lot of things about living, while trying to recover his memories. He sticks around to help Lacey around the house. She appreciates the company ^^

Dr. Wound (she/he/they)

I don't think they should have a license to anything but they do-

Sometimes spontaneously turns into a government-aligned, goody-two-shoes weresheep and commits acts of civility and kindness - it's their darkest secret~

Thinks very highly of their criminal activity and hates that in their weresheep form they tend to undo all that crime.

[ittybluebell]

Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 2

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Finch didn't consider how they survived ‘stealing’. It was borrowing - they only took what they needed; what wouldn't be missed. Finch didn't borrow with malevolence. Well, not much, anyway - it was easy to resent the humans that had so much while borrowers struggled. And there were definitely things a borrower didn't need to survive, per se, but dammit, couldn't a person want nice things? The beans wouldn't miss a strip of fabric or the odd bauble. It would go to good use, anyway!

It was laughably easy to borrow from this bean. Finch was reasonably cautious in the beginning, but they quickly learned that they could get away with a lot. Borrowing food in the same room? Easy squeezy, done and did. The only threat was making too much noise, but Finch padded the soles of their boots so that was a great big non-issue.

Was Finch balancing too close to the proverbial ledge? Oh, yeah.

Were they gonna keep doing it? Oh, yeah. The adrenaline rush was crazy.

What reason had they to stop? The bean wasn't aware of them and got rid of the traps - Finch must've been doing something right. They were on the hottest borrowing streak in their life. Now, obviously, they didn't take too much, but Finch wasn't worried about their next meal and that was every borrower's goal. An honest-to-dirt stock of food. Finch got so lucky with this place.

The tell-tale guilt came back. Faces flooded their mind: faces they were supposed to protect and cowardly abandoned. The grating snarl of grinding metal, of brick and wood falling and the screams-

Finch snatched up their thimble bucket. Shower, they decided. It was time for a shower.

Later when Finch went out, there were strawberries on the counter. Fucking strawberries. How could they resist? Sure, the human was right there, but when would Finch get another opportunity like this?

The human's name was Matt. Finch overheard it from a phone call with another man. 'Froggy', they believed that one was called. A bean with a proper name.

Finch crept into the open, not bothering with that time-consuming ducking and hiding nonsense. His back was turned. Voices from the radio filled the apartment. Finch had the advantage. It was fine. It was fine. Hairs on the back of their neck stood on end and their nape vaguely prickled. A borrower's warning system, triggered by a bean's proximity, and just another sense to bombard their brain with information.

Was the man's head twitching their imagination?

Finch reached the countertop and grabbed a strawberry. They backpedaled. For such a large being, he moved with such ease and speed. It was easy to forget how big a human was till they were in the same room. Finch stuffed the strawberry in their bag and climbed down. They took a final peek at the bean before slipping into the crack behind the fridge.

Finch was learning how much they could get away with. They were testing the waters. Taking food right out from under his nose? Oh-ho, no other borrower would dare. But Finch did. They froze, statuesque, when he moved around the apartment. A dangerous but thrilling game of lights on-lights out. He lumbered and stomped like one of those gigantic movie monsters that terrorized cities. His steps shook the floor, even when Finch was safe in their shack under it. And when Finch was above... they could feel their bones rattle with each thundering impact. The random smirks he sometimes wore were unsettling. Like he was sharing a private joke with himself. Finch tried not to think about it.

Matt was making tea.

Matt. It felt odd not referring to him as simply 'the bean'. A name was personal; it was a connection. It was unsettling.

Matt was making tea. Finch wanted one of those sugar cubes, normally sealed in a jar with a lid too heavy to even consider lifting. They peeked out from behind the fridge. The bea- Ma- he was standing there with a kettle, pouring water into a tall mug. Finch swallowed. If they were human, he would be one of those skyscrapers that reached for the clouds.

He turned around. Finch jogged to the discrete handholds they'd made in the side of the counter. Even a sighted bean wouldn't notice the indents - they made sure of that. Finch had yet to make the same accessibility for the island, but it was top of the to-do list. They climbed, unable to see the bean. They heard crinkling.

When Finch peeked over the countertop, a sleeve of cookies was in the bean's grasp. Finch's vision tunneled. Damn. Fresh cookies…

No, stop, bad! Get the cube, get out. You have food at home.

Finch pulled themself up and over the edge. They watched the bean closely, looking out for sudden movements or changes on his face. The open jar stood between themself and Matt.

Easy. No problem. Just don't make a sound and everything will be fine.

The bean in question was fighting to contain his astonishment.

Matt's intrigue piqued. Tiny was getting braver. With every moment spent in his presence, they grew more confident. It nearly drew a chuckle out of him. Tiny was cocky - cocky that they were getting away with all this, and that he remained ignorant during their escapades. That's why he could only sense a bare trace of fear on them: they were underestimating him. They were assuming a blind man couldn't possibly know when someone was stealing food and office supplies right under his nose, even making a ladder in his furniture. That was vandalism. Matt tracked Tiny's soft steps on the countertop, closer and closer, as he placed a few cookies on a plate. Did they think he was that oblivious? Matt was honestly a little offended.

He wondered how far they would go if he kept up the act.

He walked away - suddenly, he needed something from the fridge - and they took the opportunity to scale the jar and snatch a sugar cube. He heard shuffling fabric as they stored it somewhere - it seemed to be a mini duffel bag. They paused next to the plate of cookies and walked away with a sharp exhale. Tempted, but deciding they didn't want to risk it. Priorities.

Matt returned to fish out the teabag. Tiny froze. A fawn response. Matt was familiar with it. It never worked. This time, though… he let it slide. He felt bad scaring the little guy. Then again, they had the audacity to steal right in his face. A little surprise would be good for that ego they were sporting.

Tiny snuck away, down their makeshift ladder and into the floor once more. He heard the release of breath followed by a relieved giggle. Alright, it was kind of endearing, letting them get away with shit. Matt would never deny his soft spot for those in need. Matt allowed himself a secret smile. He broke a piece off a cookie and dropped it next to the fridge. He didn't know there were so many weak points in his apartment. He should probably get that checked out.

Despite cleaning up the glue traps, there was one the bean forgot about. Maybe there were others. Maybe it was intentional - awfully convenient that it was in a spot Finch rarely traveled by, and also very conveniently below a drop with poor visibility.

How did Finch know this?

They were stuck in the damn thing, that's how.

"No, no, fuck," they hissed, lifting either leg. The glue was unfairly strong and the edge too far. They didn't have any rope to throw. The nails that Finch climbed with were useless, and the rubber bands tied around those too pliant for any length.

Regardless, Finch detached the rubber bands from their belt. Clutching them tight, Finch threw a bent nail at the edge of the trap. The metal recoiled and dragged straight into the glue. Finch swore a vehement streak. They tugged, but the elastic had zero resistance. It was stuck just the same as Finch. Their single remaining nail burned like a rod of fire in their clammy palm. They desperately searched for some kind of ledge. Furious tears shone in their eyes.

When they'd dropped down and felt the floor squish under their feet, they were merely annoyed. Then they heaved and pried and pulled till sweat coated their face and the severity of the situation dawned on them. They were stuck. They hadn't felt so helpless since that building came down. That fucking building. Anger rolled in their gut for being so careless and stupid and not trying hard enough.

The glue was like one of those tar pits they'd heard about: the ones that trapped mammoths and dinosaurs and preserved their remains. Finch had never seen a fossil. To humans, dinosaurs were the titans that walked the earth. Finch would've liked to see a skeleton of a creature to earn that title.

Finch was going to die here. The human had doomed them. Really, how long would it be until he remembered the trap existed? If he remembered it existed. Finch always pictured a brave or exciting end: eaten by a bird, in battle against a rat or spider, run over by a car. Here, slowly wasting away... hm. Acceptance washed over them.

Time passed. Not once did their grip on that nail loosen. They could do nothing but think and wait and wait and think. Every choice and regret hit them in succession. Was their life flashing before their eyes? It felt far longer than a flash.

Finch was replaying their biggest regret on loop when the front door shutting knocked them out of it. Oh, goodie, the orchestrator of their demise was home from work. Abruptly, Finch realized they never got to try one of those cookies.

Something was different when Matt got home.

He couldn't put his finger on it. He put his cane away and shrugged off his jacket. There had been a tangible shift in the atmosphere. Wary, Matt walked around and scanned his apartment. No new scents - nobody had broken in. Matt tried to ignore it and spread out the papers from their case on the table. He was trying to take his dedication to his job seriously this time - letting Karen and Foggy down again wasn't something he could stomach. Foggy, especially, had hurt too much to bear.

Matt was too distracted. Finally, he realized what was wrong.

Tiny was silent.

It wasn't uncommon - there was the odd time they went down to another apartment, a result of Matt lacking in the goods department. Nothing worrying.

Suspicious, Matt did another sweep. No, he found. Tiny was still here. They were... quiet. Not moving. Somewhere under the stairs to the roof. Their heartrate was elevated. Their breaths were quick, stuttering, with an undercurrent of sniffles. They sounded all too much like someone Matt wouldn't second guess saving out on the street.

Tiny grunted under strain. There was a strange noise under their feet, like mud.

Matt jolted as if electrocuted. He forgot a trap.

What followed was Matt lunging for the loose floorboard. He tried to estimate how long they'd been stuck. Since he left this morning? The pungent scent of glue wisped into the air and guilt twisted inside him. How could he forget? Were there others? How long had Tiny been there?

There was still food in their stomach. The smell of strawberry and wheat cracker was fresh on their breath. Matt felt a tinge of relief, replaced by guilt again - not nearly as long as he'd feared, but any length of time was too long.

Tiny's reaction was one of their squeak-yelps and a subsequent stabbing.

Matt hissed, "Ow," and flinched back when something sharp stung his finger. Tiny made another motion to defend themself and Matt withdrew his arm. "You know, most people don't attack the person trying to save them," he said, mildly put out. He understood he was an actual, literal giant here, but give him some credit.

Alright, so he should have announced his intentions first - that was on him.

Matt said, "I don't want to hurt you. I'm trying to help."

"The hell you are!" Tiny bellowed with all the ferocity contained in their little body. It was an unexpectedly Herculean amount. "Who set the traps in the first place, huh? Then you come in tryin' to snatch me up like a damn claw machine. 'Help' my ass!"

"I'm trying to help. I'm sorry about the traps - really, I am. I thought I got all of them out. I'm truly sorry. Will you let me fix this? Without stabbing me again? Please?"

A contemplative silence fell over the two. It was only respectful to ask: as someone who'd been stabbed and shot and hit more times than he could remember, Matt could handle a poke or two. But he didn't like being grabbed without his consent - why would someone who's just a few inches tall?

What even was that weapon, a nail?

...He should update his vaccines.

"You don't plan to lock me up and reveal me to the world for fame and wealth or ship me off to scientists that'll experiment on me?" Tiny asked suspiciously.

That was... shockingly specific. And all completely valid concerns. "No."

"Liar."

"I'm not. In God's name, I swear I'm not lying. Would I be trying to gain your trust if that was my goal? Why would I bother?"

"I guess... you just don't want me to stab you again."

"Oh, for- I owe Foggy several apologies if this is what he deals with."

Tiny agreed to let him help after admitting they were prepared to die anyway - ouch - and that being captured by a 'bean' - what? - really couldn't be worse. A win was a win and Matt didn't argue, reaching under the floorboards to rescue them.

It was a surreal experience for both parties. Feeling a tiny, human body fit in his hand, and for Finch, a massive hand wrapping around them. They were stiff as a board, bracing against fingers as wide as their torso. For every borrower, this was the worst case. This was the nightmare that made children hide under the covers. A human had discovered them - was holding them. Finch resisted the urge to bite and scrap and do anything in their limited power to free themself. A second hand pressed down on the edges of the trap and then Finch was being pried off. The glue was reluctant to let them go and threatened to claim their boots as a prize. Finch squawked and fought to keep them.

"Shit," they blurted. "Oh, sewers. Fuck me running. Mother of termites. Pissberry."

The glue released. Matt lifted both borrower and trap out of the floor and got up from his prone position.

He was holding a tiny person. He could hardly believe it, but feeling was believing. All of his focus lasered in on the small being. How their chest rapidly expanded and fell, the thrum of their terrified heart against his thumb and ears. How delicate their bones were as his fingers closed around them, thin as a bird's. A bag was slung diagonally across their back, the items inside pressing into his palm. Their clothes were handmade, stitched together with large thread - thankfully with textures that didn't make him gag. Were those overalls? Or maybe a jumpsuit. Buttons on their flat front dug into his thumb - small, yet still bigger than their hands. And their hands... they were miniscule. Teeny fingers pushed at his own, digging into the creases of his skin and their prints indecipherable. Shoes scraped the underside of Matt's fist, sharp points on the toe of each boot threatening to scrape him up like the furniture they were fashioned to dig into.

Everything about them was fascinating. But he couldn't help noticing how pronounced their ribs were.

Finch remained tense as Matt carried them to the kitchen. Trapped in his clutches, they could do nothing but let him. What happened now? The cautionary tales never got this far. Being caught was the ultimate end for all those stories, with the killing and torture reserved for the footnotes and overactive imaginations of listeners. Finch weakly struggled, knowing they couldn't possibly escape but not wanting to just sit and take it.

"Here. I'm putting you down," Matt said. He lowered his hand and released Finch before walking away. "Just a second."

Finch tried to book it. Their shoes peeled off the countertop like prickly burs and they cringed at the sound and sensation. Taking a single step was a harsh, sticky ordeal. "Damn," they muttered under their breath.

"Going somewhere?" asked Matt, more lighthearted than he had any right to be.

Finch shot a glare at him over their shoulder. It didn't matter that he couldn't see it. All the better, actually: they could show as much vitriol as they liked without repercussion. "Yeah, chuckle it up, twelve stories. I wouldn't be here if you didn't set that shit up."

Matt disposed of the trap and sought out a roll of paper towel, which he ripped and ran under the tap. "You're right. I'm sorry." He placed the damp paper towel near them. "For the glue."

Finch accepted it and glowered the whole time. The warm water rubbed the glue off their soles. A train of curses filled their brain that were one lapse in self-control away from becoming external. One thing had been itching at them; they decided to voice that instead.

"How'd you know where I was? How did you even know I was stuck?" Realization struck. "Or how I even exist. I didn't think of that. Fuck."

Finch watched his features wrinkle and strain before relaxing. Matt said, "That's on you for assuming a blind man won't notice someone stealing right in front of him. Really, it's insulting."

"Stealing? Heh, no, no, it's called borrowing. We borrow things. There's a clear distinction. Beans steal, borrowers borrow." Their eyes widened.We. I just revealed our name. They played up the aggression, rising to their full, diminutive height. "So I got a little carried away. And what about it? You gonna put me in a jar, huh? Oh, no, I borrowed some food. You got plenty! You gonna miss some crumbs? Some string? A bottle cap here or there?" They scoffed and planted their hands on their hips. "You try to survive and suddenly you're stealing. Yeah, lemme go get a human job real quick in your human economy to pay my human bills for my human house. I'll get right on that."

Matt, who was prepared to argue the definition of stealing vs borrowing, was left sufficiently gobsmacked. The lawyer in him wanted to correct their language; the empathy in him knew that they were right. He'd concluded on his own that Tiny had no other options. Many people rarely did. Hearing it made the legal voice pipe down, and also make the connection that Tiny wasn't the same species as him. Which... yeah, should have been obvious. Were they a fairy?

"I'm not mad about the stealing," he said. "Sorry, 'borrowing'. Which isn't the right- anyway. I'm annoyed about the sock but- but that's it. I even left some crumbs around for you. Once I figured out you weren't a mouse. I really don't have a problem with you living here. Well, there's- no, nevermind. You probably don't care about that." He frowned in thought. Would a tiny person living in the walls even know about Daredevil?

Finch's whole face furrowed. "Oh... kaay. That's- wait, actually? Like, actually? You're not lying?"

Matt huffed. "Again, why would I be lying?"

Finch threw their hands in the air, giving them a frustrated shake and gesturing wildly. "I don't know! You could still switch up on me! I can't trust you. Avoiding beans is how I made it this far. I'd be dead or imprisoned or dead if I didn't. I can't trust you. How am I supposed to believe you?" They ruffled their hair and growled. They pulled their bandana down around their neck and played with the smooth fabric, pacing. "I thought I'd be some kind of pet or- or- or experiment. Or dead. I'm so confused. I'm so confused. It's all so confusing."

Matt didn't respond at first. He let their confession sit in the air, giving it the room it deserved as he thought it over. A pet. Something distinctly sub-human; lower than personhood, undeserving of self-determination. Or an experiment - even lower. That was how the world perceived Tiny. That was how Tiny believed he perceived them.

Matt loved nothing more than proving expectations wrong.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Finch scowled up at him, then exhaled harshly. "Goldfinch. I go by Finch."

"Hello, Finch. I'm Matt. Would you like something to drink?"

"...what do you have?"

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AO3

[jupiterjunebug]

Callum/JAY for the prompt meme, dealer’s choice

I originally asked for a random number from a friend and then i ignored it because I didn't like the number. This didn't end up what I wanted, but im not entirely sure WHAT i wanted so. Here you go.

Despite what everybody seems to think, Jake's been at this for a while. That's a thing that gets him a little bitter, sometimes, when Jeff young boys him hard enough everybody declares he doesn't get to use his real name anymore. Or when TJP declares that the newest member of United Empire is somebody that hasn't made a name for himself elsewhere, even though the first time he'd faced JAY was almost a full decade ago. Or the times he's listened back to the shows and commentary's talked about how much he can learn from the junior that's ten years younger than him - which is worse on account of he's actually learned a few things from Frankie.

But he swallows it, on account of he kind of objectively sort of deserves it. After all, if he weren't a young boy, he'd probably be able to get a dependable pin on somebody at least. He's pretty sure every full member of the roster's pinned Yoshi-hashi.

It also doesn't help that training keeps kicking his ass. Today, for instance, has him lying in the middle of the ring trying to get his lungs to hold more than a thimble of air.

"You alive?" Callum asks, from somewhere out of his line of sight. Jake makes a noise that's supposed to be a yes, but just sounds kind of pathetic, and a second later he can hear Callum hop into the ring and pad over. The ring bounces slightly as Callum drops down beside him.

"I think my legs are gonna fall off," he says, once his body's listening to him again. Callum laughs, patting him on the head. His hand's cold, which is nice even if Jake's pretty sure he should find this just as patronizing as everything else.

Somehow it doesn't feel that way, of course. That's Callum for you; something about the guy's just so painfully sincere he could say just about anything without it feeling like an insult. Jake wonders what it's like to be that charming. Probably has like 80% less "getting choke slammed by your own teammates for the bit" in it, at least.

"Wanna go eat sweets about it?" Callum asks. God, he sure does.

"I can't, I gotta keep practicing," he tells the ceiling instead. There's a second of quiet, and it takes him half of it to realize it's thoughtful and not Callum being awkward.

"You know, you're not gonna win if you hurt yourself," he says. "Take a break."

He's saying it in the same tone everybody uses when they're trying to pull rank on him, but also in a way that says he feels bad about it. Like he might actually be worried. It's only that bit that has him hauling himself up and sighing.

"Fine," he says. "But don't tell Jeff or TJ I'm playing hooky."

Callum laughs.

"You know, Jeff's the one who taught me to play hooky," he says. "But I won't."

He stands again, holding out a hand to help Jake to his feet and then pat him on the back. Jake mumbles something about needing a shower - being smelly at whatever cafe Callum's got in mind sounds like a nightmare - and then stumbles off. Cleaning off doesn't do much to clear his head, but it does make his muscles hurt a fraction of a percent less, so he'll take that win.

Callum's on his phone when he gets out, and Jake can tell the younger man knows something is bothering him from the hesitation at the edges of his smile. Or maybe Jake's just paranoid everyone can tell what a mess he is. Either way, he resists the urge to fidget under Callum's grin. They head out, Jake trailing after like he's a little kid and not a thirty year old man going to hang out with his coworker.

It gets him down, just like everything gets him down, and if Callum hadn't spotted that at the gym he certainly noticed by the cafe. Jake can tell by the way Callum watches him dig into his cake like it's absolutely critical Jake likes it.

"I'm fine," he says, just to get it out of the way. Callum blinks, like he hadn't realized how obvious he was being. He looks a little guilty about it for a split second, then takes a deep breath.

"You sure? You were being, uh," he frowns, putting on his thinking face. It's cute enough that, once again, Jake can't manage to get annoyed about any of it.

Maybe he's just too much of a pushover. Maybe that's his problem.

That's almost definitely his problem actually.

"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "It's just… trying to get in the swing of things, you know? I've gotta get my shit together by BOSJ and that's… "

He trails off, trying to communicate how he feels about his chances with his expression. He expects Callum to nod in sympathy, on account of they're sort of in something resembling the same boat as far as tournament records. Instead, Callum just looks kind of worried.

"You know Jeff's just acting like this because he's a dick, right?" Callum asks. Then he frowns. "I mean. He's one of my best friends. But he's a dick, too."

Jake takes a bite of his cake to try and come up with a reply that doesn't sound too pathetic.

"It's not just him," he says, immediately failing. He winces. "I mean. It's not anybody's fault. I know I'm not exactly… acing my first year."

"You're doing fine," Callum says.

"I get submitted almost every match, Callum," Jake points out. Callum takes a deep breath, because of course Jake's managed to make all of this awkward.

"Right," he says, considering his own cake. There's another second of quiet, though Jake's pretty sure he can hear Callum's gears turning. Then he gives Jake another one of his earnest looks.

"You're gonna get this," he says, with way more resolve than Jake thinks is warranted given the situation. It's the kind of look that, despite everything, makes Jake almost feel like he's telling the truth.

Almost.

"Sure," he says, and Callum sets down his fork, reaching out to take his hands across the table. He gives them a squeeze.

"You will," he says. Then, like it's second nature, he lifts Jake's hands and presses a kiss to the knuckles. Like he's some sort of romance protagonist and not a guy giving a pep talk to his loser teammate.

To be fair to Callum, it does work. Jake's brain stutters just long enough that it catches on how soft Callum's lips are instead of how much he sucks, and then Callum's brain catches up to what he's just done and they both end up staring at each other. Callum's eyes are wide, and Jake notices for the first time that he's got nice eyelashes.

Well. He's got a new thing to think about too much. That's progress, at least.

[itsa-me-lily]

Here is your winnings from the poll. I hope you enjoy it. I did. I didn't suspect Simon to be so strange. I should have but I didn't.

Here is the MPS Au master playlist

Here is Simon & Thimble playlist

And here is Simon on his first med leave fic

Content warning

dentist, and dentist stuff, potentially odd use of teeth

You never did learn what had put Simon on his two weeks of med leave, but it did teach you that the man hated the idea of it. According to Simon, at least, med leave was a waste if a person wasn't nearly dying or missing a limb. Hell even major surgery seemed to toe the line to him.

All that to say it was rather surprising when one day Simon came to you looking grumpier than normal, which was saying for him, asking if you'd be willing to go to the dentist with him. Apparently at the last visit he was told he had to get his wisdom teeth removed, and that due to the anesthetic he wasn't allowed to drive himself home afterwards. And every member of his team was supposedly busy.

Mentally you called bullshit on that one. Because you were pretty sure that they'd drop out of their own wedding if it meant seeing Simon out of it after surgery. So whatever reason that they didn't want to be there only meant that it was going to be your pain in the ass.

But...technically speaking...Simon was your husband...and you didn't hate the guy. He was pretty decent some days, so you'd agreed be his ride home. You were starting to slightly regret the choice after waiting nearly an hour. The nurse had explained that depending on a few things getting one's wisdom teeth removed could take a bit, but Simon's surgery was suppose to be quick and easy. The supposed should have been foreshadowing.

Finally though someone poked their head into the lobby, a young woman in peach scrubs who didn't look nearly as perky as her voice tried to sound.

"Mrs. Riley?"

Oh thank god you lived on a base full of people who pretty much got manners drilled into them or else you would have completely assumed that they were calling for someone else.

"Here."

"He's all ready for you. Follow me."

The second bit of foreshadowing should have been the quick pace that the dental technician had as you followed her into the back offices.

The actual fucking warning you should have understood was the consistent low toned grumbling you heard as you pushed the door open, somehow unsuspecting of what you were about to walk into.

Hamster was the first thing that came to mind when you saw Simon. Even with his surgical mask back on you could tell that they had packed his mouth with gauze and cotton tubes by how much his cheeks puffed out.

Grumpy Cat was the second thing that came to mind when you saw him because holy fuck were his eyebrows pretty vocal about what he was feeling. They met in the middle of his forehead in a furrow that you were pretty sure was going to cause a permanent wrinkle.

Before you could say anything though, Simon was already making demands, sounding petulant the entire time.

"Make 'em put 'em back."

"Uh-"

"Mr. Riley like I-"

"Teef belong in my mouf"

"Yes but-"

"They's mine anyway"

"Simon-"

You could not giggle at the way Simon looked at you, eyes all big and trying to be serious, but looking more like a hound dog's droopy eyes. Really, you were going to be a supportive wife, in a few seconds.

"What are you going to do with your teeth Simon?"

You ignore the way the dentist was glaring at you, at least Simon had stopped demanding them back for the moment. In fact it gave you a blessed thirty seconds of quiet as he thought about.

"Gonna...gonna make rings."

Yeah that backfired on you.

"What?"

"Gonna make rings with yous and mines teef."

Why the fuck was he taking your teeth now?

"That's...nice? I guess?"

Thankfully Simon didn't seem to catch on to the hesitancy in your voice, nodding to himself very seriously.

"Gonna have matching rings with my missuses"

That...should not have almost sounded as romantic as you thought you did. God Simon's weirdness was starting to rub off on you. Fucking cohabitation. Thankfully though it seemed Simon was busy thinking about how to make matching rings with teeth because he was entertained enough for the dental surgeon to give you the timeline of healing, along with care instructions, and Simon's prescription of pain management medication. You were sure getting him to take those would so easy.

He seemed to still be engrossed in his design thoughts, because getting him out and to the car was simple enough. Getting him in the car was interesting. He kept insisting that he should have been the one driving, because he was the man and it was his job to take care of his wife. You kept reminding him that women had been driving for over a century now. This went on for a good five minutes.

You actually had to threaten to not wear your matching tooth ring for him to get in the car. Unfortunately the same threat did not work to keep him from passenger seat driving the entire time. To quote, the deal was already agreed on when he got in the car. You really should have just said you were going out of town.

By the time you were finally home you had felt like you'd failed your driving test five times and murdered your husband in your mind a dozen. Thankfully for both of your sakes, getting him from the car to your home was a smooth operation. And once he was inside? Not as smooth.

As soon as he had crossed the threshold, Simon wobbled his way over to the boys, nearly falling over when he tried to bend over to pet them. The only thing between him and a concussion was the fact that you'd managed to grab the back of his pants in time and pulled him back. Then he was looking at you with those same sad hound dog eyes, demanding to know why you were keeping his sons from him.

At least you knew he liked the pigs.

You'd managed to make up some lie about Simon needing to wash his hands first to keep him from trying again to pet his 'sons', and got him on the couch. You were only partially tempted to then turn on the TV to something like CocoMelon to see if it'd keep his attention. Only partially.

Whatever they had given him in the office must have been strong because Simon spent a good ten minutes just staring at the silent TV screen as if it was actually playing CocoMelon. You weren't going to complain as you got a quick plate together for the kids.

First unfortunate thing was, you never got the pigs their plate because as you were walking past him Simon decided to wrap his arms around you and pretty much haul you back onto the couch. Vegetables did go flying, but the plastic plate didn't break when it hit the ground. So small victories.

The second was that Simon Riley was like a fucking ton of rocks and you did not have any upper body strength. So when Simon decided that you both need to lay down on the couch, you were both gonna be on that couch. You had tried to wiggle out of his grasp but it only caused him to grumble and hold on tighter. At least you could still breath as the man decided to use you as his own personal body pillow for his afternoon nap.

The third was three little betrayed faces that you could just see over the curve of Simon's shoulder as they in fact did not get their snacks.

"Hey don't look at me like that. It isn't my fault your father's heavy."

With it obvious that you weren't going to go anywhere for the next while, you did at least manage to get your phone out of your pocket to shoot a message to Johnny.

'Y'all are fucking dicks.'

Rat bastard left you on read.

Simon woke up to his fucking mouth hurting. He had kept telling Price that his teeth were fucking fine, and then the Army dentist had to go and snitch on him. Then he didn't have a choice but to go and have his fucking teeth pulled, and of course supposedly all the guys were going to be too busy to drive him, so he had to go and ask you. And now he was going to be on med leave, again. For a bullshit reason. Again.

Probably the worst part about it all though is that he couldn't remember how he got home. The last thing Simon could remember was being in the stupid dentists office following the instructions to fucking count backwards as they gave him fucking propofol. So god only knows what happened between then and now.

At least you were decent enough to give him a pillow before he apparently fell asleep. He sighed as he shut his eyes and buried his face into it. You must had just washed the pillowcases because it really smelt like you and the detergent you used...though...why was it moving? Simon's eyes shot open as he took in his surroundings, namely whatever the fuck he was laying on.

Which was apparently you. Specifically a sleeping you. More specifically his pillow had been your...bosom. Simon was never more thankful that you were typically a deep sleeper because he did not need you to see the way he had a full body spasm over the fact he essentially had his face shoved into your chest.

Really Simon should get off of you. He should retreat and hide away in the bathroom while he tried to decide if he was going to pretend it never happened. But...you were rather comfortable, and he didn't know if he could slip out of the arms you'd wrapped around his shoulders without waking you. So he did the next best thing.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and messaged Soap.

'SOS Need you to come be distraction'

Rat bastard only sent him back the laughing face.

With another sigh, Simon thought over his options. Really he did. And well...his mouth fucking hurt and honestly a couple more hours of sleep weren't going to kill him.

You made a surprisingly good pillow.

Edit;

None of the boys wanted to get Simon because he's always super bull headed about driving and he is unsuspectingly cuddly after any kind of anesthesia. Price missed a meeting once because Simon refused to let go of him.

Johnny doesn't respond because he's a little scared of Thimble after she plucked what felt like half his bleeding eyebrows once.

[velgroverp]

KANG JINAH, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?

It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 25 YEARS as the town's SEAMSTRESS. Do you think the grove owes you? At 25 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be CREATIVE and RESILIENT, but the grove knows you're also EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED and STUBBORN. Maybe you are like a THIMBLE. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?

residence: lakeside, cottage

trigger warnings: mention of death

the shop always smelled of lavender, her mother’s favourite scent. jinah used to watch in quiet awe as her fingers threaded through silence. when she wasn’t getting tangled in ribbons or pricking her fingers on needles, she was bothering her father. he played along as best he could. his movements much slower after years in the fields. he no longer worked, not since the injury, but the house stayed warm, the shop stayed open, and her world felt intact.

she was eleven when change arrived: a sibling. the doctor had warned against it but her mother carried carefully, and months later, a boy arrived. small and soft, already adored. 

he became the heart of the house. and then he was gone.  it was the night of the fall harvest festival, she knew the stories and she believed in them but “it happens to others” was what she thought. “not us”  jinah still remembers : one moment she was holding his tiny hand, the next? nothing. 

they searched until their voices cracked. then waited, then stopped. Her mother didn’t last long after that, grief taking her. then it was just her and her father, his vision dimmed to shadows, the shop shuttered, the house too quiet.

for over a year, jinah learned how to live in that silence. she became his eyes, his compass and rearranged everything so he could find himself again. then in the quiet hours in between everything, she sewed. at first, only what she remembered, mimicking her mother’s movements and carefully recreating old patterns.

eventually, the shop reopened with a heavy heart but one full of hope nonetheless. It began with simple repairs, commissions that were plicas of her mother’s patterns, familiar pieces for familier people. but as seasons passed so did the designs. her own taste emerged.

now the shop breathes in her colours but somewhere in every piece, was a reminder. traces of them in pieces meant to hold warmth.

jinah was raised by the lake, fed on her father’s stories, of things lost in the woods or voices under the water. they never scared her, they only made her curious. now, she keeps a notebook of the odd and the unexplained. she’s not afraid of what she might find, only afraid of what might stay hidden forever.

@veljinah

[shortlikerdjsocbackstories]

◇𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟼◇

Warnings: Mention of stitches, knife, violence, animal abuse, mention of death

Word Count: 1317

◇◇◇

Thump..thump......thump..thump

Thimble opens her eyes with a gasp, still laying in the same position she was in when she died.

The cat takes a few breaths, trying to process what's going on.

She sits up partially, blinking a few times and shaking her head.

I'm....alive? But how?

Opening her eyes fully, she looks around the alleyway, it seeming slightly......off.

Where...am I? I thought....

The closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

Suddenly her eyes popped open.

Alastor's handkerchief!

She whirled her head around, frantically scanning the alleyway for the piece of cloth.

No...no no no! Where is it?!

She stood up, wandering around the alleyway a bit.

No...please..no...

She sat down, ears drooped, saddened by the loss of Alastor's handkerchief.

....that was all I had left of him..

The cat sat with her head dipped, eyes closed, mourning her loss.

As she opened her eyes, a marking in her fur caught her eye, making her jump to her paws.

What is that?!

She appeared to have stitches on her chest.

Spotting a puddle in the alleyway, Thimble heads towards it, not realizing she's floating above the ground slightly.

The cat's ears perked in surprise seeing her reflection in the puddle.

She looked younger, and still had her coal colored fur, but now also had white stitches running from her chest to her belly. She also had white stitches running down her back as well as small Xs on her shoulders and her upper hind legs.

Her face had the what appeared to be the upper half of a white cat skull on it, with two small horns poking from it. In the middle of her forehead, where her white diamond marking used to be, was now a black diamond marking with a glowing red X overtop of it.

Thimble's eyes were no longer orange, but black, with glowing red pupils. Her fur appeared to be wispy, made of shadows.

What the-?

Thimble reaches up and runs a paw over her small set of horns.

Well that's new...

There's a sudden loud noise, making the demon cat jump, ears laid back and hackles raised.

Shaking herself off, the cat starts to creeps towards the end of the alleyway.

Looking down, Thimble's tail flicked in surprise, seeing her paws barely skimming the ground.

I can float? That's cool!

With an amused purr, she floated to the end of the alleyway, coming to a stop and landing back on her paws.

Peeking around the corner, Thimble's jaw dropped.

She wasn't in New Orleans anymore, that's for sure.

The sky appeared to be shades of red and maroon, casting over the city.

The city itself had many buildings, also in shades of red, maroon and purple., all of them looking in rough shape.

There was debris spread through the street, some of it from buildings themselves, while a lot of it was trash.

Broken glass and bottles littered the filthy street.

What the-?

Odd looking...people...dare she call them, populated the city, some of them having horns or tails.

As Thimble looked around in astonishment and slight fear, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

A demon was coming towards her, brandishing a knife and grinning evilly.

With a terrified meow, Thimble whirled around and raced back into the alleyway.

It was at this point I learned that I needed to stay out of alleyways...

Crap..crap..CRAP

Her heart pounding, she dived under a dumpster, hoping the demon didn't see her.

Covered in grime and cobwebs, Thimble trembled, panting, her ears laid back in fright.

Please tell me he didn't see me.... please tell me he didn't see me...

Thimble froze as she heard footsteps enter the alleyway, slowly walking towards the dumpster.

I'm not here... I'm not here...just go away..

Thimble held her breath as the demon stopped in front of the dumpster.

Suddenly, she was yanked out of her hiding spot by her scruff, making her yelp in fright.

No!

"Gotcha you little maggot!" The demon said triumphantly with an evil grin.

Thimble was frozen in terror as she was lifted up by her scruff to the demon's eye level.

"I've always hated cats..." The demon spat, lifting his knife to Thimble's chin, poking it.

The slight pain snapped Thimble out of her frozen state.

Still terrified, the cat clamped her teeth onto the demon's hand holding the knife, hard.

The demon yelled in pain and threw her to the ground, cursing and clutching his now bleeding hand.

That's what you get!

Thimble tumbled slightly against the concrete with a wince, landing on her paws.

She immediately stood up and scampered towards the end of the alleyway, claws gripping the concrete.

Suddenly, the demon's knife whizzed past her, slicing tge top of her right shoulder before it stuck to the ground in front of her, handle quivering.

With a cry of pain and her shoulder now bleeding, Thimble bolted down street, terrified.

The cat ran as fast as she could, dodging chunks of debris, demons and cars alike, her heart pounding and her shoulder throbbing.

Buildings became blurs as she ran, breathing hard.

A bright sign caught her attention, and Thimble skidded to a stop. In bright neon letters, the sign read Welcome to Hell!

I'm in Hell?!

Suddenly, a horn blares and Thimble is blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car.

Frozen and eyes wide, Thimble could only cower in horror as the car came barreling towards her.

Thimble squeezed her eyes shut, but at the last second, she was jolted aside as someone grabbed her.

Slowly, Thimble opened her eyes, blinking a few times, realizing she had been saved from being hit by the car and was now in someone's arms.

Heart still racing, she looked up and saw she was being held by a female with long blond hair, red cheeks and a friendly face. She wore a red suit, a bowtie and a pair of matching black shoes, and was currently scolding the demon driver of the car.

"..Need to be more careful!"

Still terrified, Thimble wriggled out of the female demon's grip, landing on the sidewalk and immediately scampering away, not even looking back.

The female demon, Charlie, takes a half-hearted step in Thimble's direction.

"No wait!" She calls after her. "I'm just trying to.. help.. you." She trailed off as Thimble disappeared around a corner.

Back with Thimble, she's still running as fast as she can, her shoulder throbbing, heart pounding.

Spotting a piece of sturdy debris, the she-cat dives under it, breathing hard.

"I can't trust anybody here, I'm in Hell for God's sake!"

After managing to catch her breath, she slowly peeks out from under the piece of debris, looking around cautiously.

Her eyes widen and her ears perk as she spots an abandoned car.

"That seems like a better place to hide.."

Taking another brief look around, Thimble dashes out from under the debris, across the street and dives under the car.

Letting out a breath, she dips her head and licks at her shoulder, cleaning up the knife wound as gathered her thoughts.

"Why am I in Hell?" She asks herself.

"Well, let's see, you were a serial killer's pet cat, what would you expect?" The she-cat thought, answering her own question.

She winced as she accidentally licked the wound itself, sending a sting of pain through her shoulder.

Thimble sighed, briefly jumping as she heard a loud noise, her ears perked and fur fluffed up slightly.

Looking around one more time, the cat curled up under the car, making herself as comfortable as she could.

"I need to find safety... this won't due for long" She thought, yawning briefly.

Worn out from the day's events, the cat's eyes drooped shut, succumbing to her exhaustion.

◇◇◇

Thimble just has the worst of luck with alleyways I swear-

[pomplalamoose]

Can we please have some luke fluff hc’s?🙏 from any era idc i just love your writing💗

Thank you so much, anon!!! <33

I'm so on board for more lighthearted Luke content to warm our hearts, it's what he deserves🤝🏻

Also I veered into kinda new territory for me; while many of these take place in the Star Wars universe as normal, I included some modern day AU ones too

• the Jedi are taught to take extra care of their clothing and appearance because whenever they're out and about they take on a mostly representative role, whether they want to or not

• this also includes learning how to correctly mend and take care of their belongings

• I don't think that this was at the very front of Luke's education though, Obi-Wan and Yoda really had more pressing conditions to work with

• however, as everyone can clearly see, nobody had to specifically tell Luke about this

• (just look at the man)

• not only did he grow up with maybe one (1) relatively good fitting outfit, I'm also sure that because of this he was taught how to fix holes and re do seams as well as sewing his buttons back on himself

• I'm even convinced he's able to make a simple pair of pants and a shirt from scratch should it be really necessary

• something about the picture of you and Luke sitting together on a warm summer evening or during a winter night and you watching him silently working away is just the peak of domesticity

• he enjoys fixing clothes, especially if by doing so he can do a favor to those he loves

• I think in a way it calms him too

• he'd definitely help out his Padawans with it as well

• I firmly believe he owns a small sewing kit, complete with a thimble

• (maybe two: one he's actually using and a second hand made one out of porcelain because he thinks it's really pretty)

• maybe, in addition and if he has the time, he'd try out similar activities like crocheting, knitting, stitching, etc.

• I don't think he'd be very good at it but everything he crafts is made with love and there is no one around who doesn't appreciate his efforts

• imagine him knitting little socks and hats and scarves for all of his students

• for some reason he really struggles with online tutorials though

• they're always going too fast, he can't see what exactly it is they're showing, and often times they're just overcomplicating really simple steps

• he finds this to be very frustrating

• he probably uses a very (very!) old fashioned book to learn instead

• its margins are full of scribbles of its previous owners and Luke adds his own

• he draws smiley faces next to the patterns he likes most

• Luke is a DIY king

• something that really comes in handy as a Jedi master

• at the very beginning, just at the start of his own academy, he definitely did most of the occurring tasks himself, also including preparing the meals for everyone

• he's a decent cook but I think he'd get really into baking

• baking bread is one of his favorite free time activities

• my sister insists upon the fact that he'd make the absolute best focaccia

• (or its Star Wars equivalent at least)

• he really likes trying out new recipes, especially those he never heard about before

• with varying degrees of success, as some of them are not meant to be made by humans

• but worry not, nothing is getting wasted

• Luke's collection of little fish friends is always happy to eat the remaining crumbs

• (for those that don't know what I'm talking about, check out my other random Luke headcanons if you'd like)

• he has special outfits for his training sessions, including many different shoes

• depending on what or where it is he's practicing, he chooses them carefully

• inside he's wearing soft slippers and soft slippers only, boots are a no go

• it's very much established that Luke is wonderfully emphathetic and always ready to stand by your side, may it be during your period or when you're struggling mentally

• he's still wonderfully emphathetic and caring when you're sick but like, only from very far away

• he'll refuse to come near you if you so much as mention you're not feeling well

• if you have to sneeze or cough even a little bit he's immediately asking whether you've fallen ill or are about to

• just say you feel like you're getting a cold and he's on retreat immediately

• he can't get sick as well!

• he's working with children!!!

• at least one of them is always sick anyways, he can't be contagious under any circumstances!

• he'd feel so bad if he were to be responsible for even more of them suffering

• he feels horrible for not being there for you too though

• so he still does his best

• he prepares warm meals and tea every day and let's R2 deliver them

• he always checks in on you when you're asleep

• he changes your bed sheets while you take a shower or a bath

• he'd totally make a doctor's appointment for you if you're too scared to make the phone call yourself

• he makes sure you're taking your medications

• he pats your back and strokes your hair using the Force

• Luke would absolutely hate quarantine

• at first he'd still be pretty optimistic, thinking it won't be that bad, maybe even fun?

• he'll just meditate a lot, right?

• after all he has mastered his temper now, his patience renowned among his friends and students

• this mindset works at the beginning and for a while he's happy to sleep in for as long as he wants to

• however he forgets about the concept of time quickly enough and soon has no idea what day it is

• when was the last time he had breakfast?

• since he's a very outdoorsy person, always on the move, always doing something, it wouldn't take long until he's getting kinda antsy too

• and while he does enjoy the calm and quiet, he's mostly used to being the center of bustling activities

• soon he takes desperate measures to pass the time, even trying out things he before swore to not be interested in in the slightest

• I see him taking lots and lots of Buzzfeed quizzes

• he texts you about every single result

• one of his first ones was about what kind of animal he'd be and he absolutely hated the outcome

• he eventually ended up making his own quiz because of it

• he likes watching you play video games more than playing them himself

• it's very relaxing to him, especially after a long day at work

• plus he gets to hold you extra close under the pretense of being very interested to see what's going on on screen

• he dozes off pretty quickly though

• while he's happy to let you play whatever you want, I think he has his favorites as well

• Animal Crossing being at the very front

• he loves when you show him your town or island, how you decorated your house and which villagers you're best friends with

• he too would have the newest game, simply because you were missing a few items and he was determined to get them for you

• it would totally escalate during quarantine though, and suddenly he'd have a fully decorated five star island

• (Luke Skywalker plays Animal Crossing with a passion and I'm ready to fight anyone about it)

• for some reason he gets really competitive during Mario Kart and Just Dance

• he unapologetically wins at every single Wii Sports mini game and no matter what you do and how much you practice, he's always better and not in the least bit sorry about it

• he is a Macher™ (please let there be some German fans who know what I'm talking about)

[rattusrattus3]

Hi! So so sorry to bother!! I had to buy a bag for a school trip to another country and I saw your emily the strange bag on your channel and thought it was so cool and got inspired, so I wanted to customize mine a bit (maybe sew some patches on it?).

Do you have any tips? Is it very different from customizing clothes? It seems hard so I've been putting it off 😅

Again so so sorry to bother you but itd be really helpful!! I love your content, I've been watching your videos for 2 years and you've really inspired me to dress how I want without fearing others opinions. I can't thank you enough for the joy you've brought me!!

Hi! No need to apologize ! Hmm it was kinda long ago and I haven’t done much to bags since but i think it’s pretty similar.. sometimes the fabric of bags can be thicker so I think if you are having trouble sewing things like patches on, using fabric glue would be a good alternative , especially something heavy duty like gorilla fabric glue. (Or safety pin patches on is a tried and true method for a reason :-)) I’ve been wanting to do some more custom bags lately but just haven’t done it yet lol

For durability stuff that I have learned : If you’re using screw on spikes, add washers between the screw and the bag so they are less likely to fall out, if you’re adding pins/buttons, add a clear plastic earring backing to have an extra layer of security from the pin falling out, if you’re using safety pins, clamp them shut with pliers so they’re less likely to come out and come undone . Take your time and use a thimble, sharp needle and smaller needle if hand sewing is being difficult/painful

Hope that helps !!

If anyone reading this is interested in seeing the Emily purse tutorial you can chdck it out here !

Good luck and enjoy :-)