#weft faced

[auressea]

wow! astonishing work! How much does it WEIGH?

[ID in Alt]

the two widths of the båtrye im weaving for my bachelors thesis are done and fresh off the loom, and i figured that calls for some pictures!

[gregorvorbarra]

I’m going to take decent pictures of it later once i’ve finished weaving in ends but I can’t wait any longer to show you all MY WEAVING

LOOK AT IT

[maidenofcrows]

What? A writing struggles post? Absolutely

I was trying to look up whether unmarried women in the ancient world did anything to cover their hair and the information wasn’t super conclusive?? Married women certainly did and unmarried women sometimes did depending on a number of things like social status, geography, unspecified religious practices, weather. Unmarried women in Sparta apparently left their hair uncovered, but how do we know that?? Very little is actually known about Sparta and what we have is written from other places and therefore full of bias. It also did not state whether this would have been pre- or post- militaristic Sparta.

Dangerously close to just saying yes to the head coverings because it’s still just fanfiction but I’m also trying to be respectful

[camembertlythere]

I bought some crappy synthetic clip in hair in extensions in hopes of making me less sad about the year of growth I cut off last year (w bangs, instant regret) and holy moly they are much nicer than I anticipated and a shockingly good match for my natural curl (wave) pattern and color

Shit picture but like who is she?

[batbetbitbotbut]

Low space & low budget weaving

Want to weave but don't have space for a loom? Have a few sticks and yarns but no DIY skills? Come, be tempted anyway. Weaving is a whole family of crafts, some of which don't require a loom at all.

Small-ish looms like box looms (as basic as yarn wrapped around a cardboard grocery tray), inkle looms, and rigid heddle looms exist, but I'm assuming every possible space for a box in your life is already filled. In this post we're going even smaller and cheaper. As far as possible, everything either is flat enough to stow behind/under furniture or rolls up safely into a bundle of just sticks and yarn.

Many of these crafts have some crossover - the same setup can be used for multiple styles of weaving. Most of them can be improvised at home depending on what you have on hand, or if you need to buy something there is not a huge gulf between homemade vs professional equipment. Alas I am not skilled in any of these and my descriptions will not be wholly accurate; corrections and additions welcome! If you need help, I'd only be able to tell you to seek out books and tutorials yourself, ask other weavers, and just try stuff out.

All photos included with permission. My thanks to the people allowing me to use their projects! I saw so many gorgeous and skillful projects when assembling this and I wish I could have included them all.

Fingerweaving

Projects by @kitteniestkitten (here) and @wefty-weaver (here)

Culture - I am aware of this as a Native American technique, I don't know its history with any more specific tribe.

Fabric - "Warp faced" cloth of any width, insofar as warp and weft have meaning for this craft as the weaving is on a diagonal. Often used for sashes or blankets.

Method - There is no loom! A couple sticks hold the yarns to begin with, but then it is all freehand. Starting at one corner, you use your fingers to weave a strand through the other strands, and... that's it. Very simple beginnings work up to very complex patterns that no loom is capable of. The whole project can be rolled up when not active.

Backstrap loom

Projects by @calendae-creations (here) and @weavingforlooms (here)

Culture - I am most aware of this from the Andes but I think it is much more widespread than that.

Fabric - Warp faced or balanced fabric of any width up to your own reach, suitable for blankets and clothes and many other things.

Method - You are the loom! Several horizontal rods hold and manipulate the warp threads but your body provides the tension, with the other end hooked to some furniture or around your own feet. When not in use, you can roll up all the equipment into a small bundle of yarn and rods. You can also use a backstrap loom setup for other methods like tablet weaving.

Warp weighted loom

Projects by @shadowcreepling (here) and @doctormead (here)

Culture - used by ancient Greeks among many many others.

Fabric - any kind of fabric at any size. Shadowcreepling is using a warp weighted loom for a tablet-woven band, Doctormead is probably using heddle rods to make a wider piece of cloth.

Method - the warp threads are held by a bar at the top and tensioned with weights on one end that hang down towards the floor, then the weft is woven into them with any method such as tablets, heddle rods, or by hand (if you have a lot of patience) and beaten into firm fabric at the top or bottom of the loom. Warp weighted looms can be very big, but they are simple and can also be very small and taken apart when not actively weaving.

Tablet weaving / card weaving

Projects by @damage-ko (here) and @foxease (here, hardware from CellesKit on Etsy)

Culture - found as far apart as textiles (geographically and temporally) from Byzantine Egypt and the Vikings

Fabric - a warp faced fabric with patterns made by twining warp threads around each other, usually used for strong narrow bands like collars, belts, and shoelaces.

Method - the cards hold open the shed so you can pass the weft through, then rotate the cards to advance the pattern. Many people make their own with cardboard or playing cards, or you can buy some. The rest of the weaving setup can be improvised with a backstrap (or just a shower curtain hook clipped to your trousers), a cardboard box loom, or warp weights.

Rigid heddle band weaving

Projects by @pisaracraft (here) and @crookedtines (here)

Culture - small rigid heddles like the first project have been found in Roman archaeological sites across Europe. The larger rigid heddle in the second project is being used for "baltic pickup" style designs on the band.

Fabric - can be warp faced or a balanced weave, size limited by the size of your heddle.

Method - you provide tension with any setup you please such as an inkle loom, backstrap, or warp weights. The heddle creates sheds so that you can pass weft yarn through the warp easily. Infinitely many "pick-up patterns" let you weave patterns and even words into the cloth.

Pin loom / potholder loom

Projects by @pardalote (here) and @weavingmyheartout (here)

Fabric - a small square (or rectangle or triangle) of balanced weaving, which can be used alone or patched together into larger fabrics. Pin looms are finer and suitable for many knitting/crochet yarns, potholer looms are chunkier and designed for big elastics, but the method is similar.

Method - wind yarn lengthways around one set of pins and then pull yarn widthways through these strands with a hook. Or, work at 45 degrees in continuous strand weaving! Lots of room to experiment with colour and texture. You can improvise a pin loom by cutting notches in a square of sturdy cardboard.

Needle weaving / stick weaving / peg loom

Projects by @thaylepo (here) and @pastelispunx (here)

Fabric - weft-faced fabric and rugs of any size.

Method - thread long thin warp threads through the pegs, then wind a thick weft (eg heavier yarn, sheep fleece, or long scraps of fabric) around the pegs. Push the weft down along the pegs as they fill up, so that it slides off onto the warp. The pegs can be secured in a base to make a peg loom for large projects, or just handled freely. I believe these evolved as separate crafts and the nuances are different, but the overall method is similar.

Frame loom / tapestry loom

Projects by @squeakygeeky (here) and @battlestar-gasmacktica (here)

Fabric - weft-faced or balanced fabric ideal for wall hangings and upholstery, size limited to the frame being used.

Method - (usually) thinner warp threads are wound round a frame, such as heavy cardboard with notches cut in the end, a picture frame, or a small and flat purpose-made loom. Thicker weft threads are woven in by hand using needles or just small lengths of yarn. Some people make lifelike images, others make more ordinary fabrics or geometric patterns.

Bobbin lace

Projects by @crochetpiece (here) and @noxx-notions (here)

Culture - began in renaissance Italy and spread throughout Europe, often as a cottage industry.

Fabric - balanced fabric usually made of very thin threads in freeform shapes. It's not usually considered "weaving" but the basic cloth stitch is definitely a woven fabric!

Method - each thread is wound onto a bobbin (e.g. a clothespeg) and then bobbins are crossed over each other to weave threads together. The lace is pinned to a cushion to hold everything in place while the design grows.

[tsuyalovebot]

watch you entertain.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

synopsis: caleb comes to a few conclusions when you give him a blowjob for the first time.

cw: NSFW and explicit sexual content, mdni. established relationship. mentions of intercourse. oral sex (blowjob). mentions of reader receiving oral sex. hair pulling. imaginative violence (not to reader). petnames (pretty, pipsqueak). mention of oral sex (receiving). he slaps his dick on your face (not sorry). mention of spanking and watching porn. caleb-typical warnings.

wc: 1.7k (drabble....ish????)

author's note: i can't defend myself since 90% of this is word vomit. i'm working on another caleb piece right now, but i needed to get this out of my system. think of it as a precursor piece, like an hors d'oeuvres. also, please disregard any typos. (— - —)|||

The first time Caleb felt your lips on his was magical. The second, third, fourth, and succeeding times were all but surreal.

He had all but convinced himself that your mouth, pressed to his in a flurry of tender touches or desirous cravings, was something he conjured up in the blurry moments of his delusions. You always manage to kiss them away, though.

Later on, you admitted that he was your first kiss.

"When I visited you after you moved out," you said. Hands wrung, your gaze averted downward as you were perched on his lap one evening.

He knows what you're talking about. Remembers its vividness with a startling clarity that would have embarrassed him otherwise, if you didn't share the same sentiments.

By now, you've already kissed and made out in the intimacy of his place beyond finite counting. Had sex with him on whatever surface the two of you could get your hands on. You've long since spoiled him with your presence, both physical and mental. There's a key tucked away in his headspace with your name engraved into the metal. Magnetic and the signification of a special place for you in his heart.

He spoiled you, and now, you spoil him. Neither of you complain about this mutually beneficial arrangement. Why would you?

Though, he can't say he's exactly pleased at the current moment.

"That's it, mmm. You're being so sweet today."

He's watching you, as he always is. You're on your knees before him—you insisted, said it added to the atmosphere despite his crows of indignance at the possibility of them bruising—and your mouth impossibly full of his cock.

You're bare before him, towel discarded on the coffee table with your body damp and he's barely presentable in his uniform. Disheveled and pants undone, he wasn't sure if he was exactly living up to the honorable nature of the clothes he donned. He tried to undress, but you'd been pawing at him the second he walked through the doorstep in nothing but one of the towels he bought you, so his resistance was doomed from the start.

His arms spread on the top of the couch, he tilts his head back and sighs slowly. Hot breath escapes him in time with his Adam's apple bobbing, swallowing a heavy moan that threatens to break free. It takes him a few moments before he peers at your kneeling form once more.

One of his hands cups your cheek, the cool leather swiping over your cheekbone and pushing some of your hair back. Rapt attention on you, whispering soft words of, "that's how you do it" and "a biiit wider, pipsqueak— yeah, like that" with so much appreciation in his tone. Because that's what he feels toward you right now; so much appreciation in his heart belongs to you.

Your tongue was doing sinful licks along the underside of his cock's curve, the girth hefty in your two hands, and your eyes stayed closed in a quiet pleasure. It's expertly done, and the creation of human response as you wrap those pretty pink lips around the tip of him and suckle on it, strings of your saliva leaving sticky wefts along the shaft.

Alternating between peppering his length in kisses and taking a couple inches into your mouth, he's fighting for his fucking life trying to not bust a nut. He's sort of ashamed to have dreamt of this moment for years. You would never let him live it down.

As if the deities couldn't get enough of his suffering, his mind had made the fatal mistake of noting the visible difference of the size of him and your hands and your mouth. It gets him going, that stark contrast and how gently you were treating him.

It's a sight reserved for his eyes alone. Something he wants to pocket and immortalize because it's his and only his. That's the only reason for the powerful plethora of emotions boiling over in his gut. Truly, the only reason.

That's what he tells himself as he observes you with a progressively darkening, clinical, dead-eyed stare that you weren't aware of. A little voice in him nagging at his conscience, spitting words of venom that feeds into the slowly, slowly expanding green-eyed monster rising onto its feet.

"I got a question for you, pretty," he says calmly, deceptively so. Making sure to sound as casual as possible, his gloved hand coming to stroke over your damp, silky hair. You really just couldn't wait to please him, immediately pawing at him when he arrived home and you were fresh out the bath.

You murmur something in reply, lips suctioned to his shaft. Those gorgeous eyes, ones that beheld him with such reverence and adoration in round shape flicker up to his. The vibrations and sight hit him like a freight train and he groans, low and deep. He lets the pleasure settle into his bones.

"You have to answer honestly, 'kay?" He croons down at you, assuring. His facial expression had finally relaxed from its initial, contemplative one. You're happy with this, he notes as you eagerly bob your head, careful to remain quiet.

Good. It'll make hearing your voice all the more worth it. When you said he was your first kiss, he was beyond ecstatic.

Hopefully, you can echo the same thing now.

With an easygoing air betraying that of his positively threatening smile, he asks, "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

There's a sick sense of pleasure in watching you process his words a second too lats. Because you're such an open book with him, aren't you? The way your eyes widen and your lips halt, as if your heart stopped even beating. Even if makes his own blackened heart speed up, its thudding resembling a rabbit's stomping.

Your blinks were a linguistic of their own, and he was the expert in unraveling the lexicology of your existence.

You don't answer fast enough. Or, you don't answer at all. Because now, you're staring him like a child chastised for having their hand in a candy jar—where they weren't supposed to be.

Unfortunately for you, that was more than telling for him.

Caleb doesn't speak. The air is several degrees colder now, like the air circulation was suddenlt cut off, and he drinks in the way anticipation tenses your muscles and your uneven breaths smooth over his skin when you pop your lips off his cock. Those sinful lips that he stole away as his were now glistening in a mix of your spittle and his pre-cum.

He could almost forgive you right now. But, you make the crucial mistake of looking away from him.

"Oh?" It's inquisitive—his tone, yet it has the power of a knife being drawn.

The hand on your head loses its comforting, encouraging air and instead becomes a weight.

A threat.

The visual that's formulating in his head isn't a pleasant one. An image of stained glass shards, blurry yet clear in the vision of you on your knees for another guy. The scattered light capturing your mouth wrapped around the faceless stranger, servicing him the same way you're handling Caleb, seeking that same, sickly sweet tang of validation.

Could it have been that Xavier guy he sees on your phone notifications from time to time? Or is it someone closer to you, from your Association? There's a chance someone else from your childhood reached out to you, maybe after his disappearance. Did they hold you in ways he's been craving to hold you for years?

That's not fair, now, is it? He's worn your hairtie around his wrist for years, disregarded countless scribbled love letters from bystanders, based his little trinkets around those apples you love so much, and spoiled you countless times in his misplaced desire for playing the role of your protector. It simply isn't fair that you sought gratification from a source that wasn't him—because for him, it was always you.

Is it too selfish of him to want your everything?

You don't say anything even as your mouth opens and closes. You're either searching for an excuse, weighing the costs of lying to him at the moment, or you're genuinely floundering for words at the sudden blankness in your head.

He hums again, and it's lower than before. Full of thought and contemplation as his amethyst eyes bore holes into your speechless state. It's full of disappointment and he sees the worry creep into your eyes like a leaking faucet.

Threading his gloved fingers into the tresses of your hair, its smooth leather massaging your scalp, his face softens.

"I guess I did say you should be honest, not fast," he murmurs, laughing to himself quietly.

His lips tilt into a boyish sort of grin, and it's so full of mirth and entertainment that it's easy to process as him diffusing the situation. It works like so, and you're soon tilting your head into his palm and seeking his touch.

In the distance, the kettle in the kitchen screeches like an alarm of what's to come.

Disconcertingly relaxed, his smile seems absolutely sarcastic. A bit sharp at the edges.

"I should make it easier to understand. Let me rephrase it, then."

He pulls your hair. It's one harsh motion and it jerks your head up. A gasp torn from your lips as they fall open, the slight sting shooting through your body with an charged breeze.

"Who did you learn this from?"

He's so used to tasting you before fucking; your sex and his tongue are practically best friends in his eyes. It never once occurred to him to have you suck him off.

He should've been suspicious the second you offered to begin with.

The blood drains from your face some more and he relishes the blank yet alert state your eyes reflect. He's sure your mind is in disarray right now. The feeling is mutual, though you're aware of that too, most likely.

"I have a right to know. I always said that you could come to me if you needed help with anything, right?" It's a rhetorical question. You both know that. You're doomed either way.

You make another breathless noise, and he wants to explore your vocality. Now, how would you sound gagging on him?

"Caleb—"

He shushes you softly and you quiet down in an instant.

"I don't need an answer that isn't related to my question, don't you agree?"

Another rhetorical question as he cocks his head, the gesture mocking.

"You're always tellin' me to be honest and share my thoughts with you. I'm bein' honest now. Everything should be mutual, so, answer my question. I might even go easy on you."

You're totally panicking now, aren't you?

His other hand wraps around the base of his cock and he slaps the shaft onto your cheek, then smearing his leaking tip over your glistening lips, a thoughtful smile playing on his own as if he were offering you candy.

"And depending on how you answer, I'm either taking you over my knee while you spell their name out, or you'll be showing me exactly what pornos you've been watching without my knowledge. So, what's it gonna be?"

[anantaru]

DAY 13 — BITING/MARKING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — kaveh, kazuha, cyno, venti

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, biting/marking, neck bites & marking you with his cum, tit play/tit sucking (cyno uses his vision on you but only a little), fingering, oral (fem! receiving), lots of cum & kind of messy (venti's part)

𖧡 — KAVEH

kaveh will leave his eyes closed before he slopes his head into your neck, and oh, who would've thought? you can feel his blonde hair lightly prod your cheeks before you breathe in the cloying fragrance he wore— such candid scent was one wefted within sumeru roses, a prairie of perfume that had wended its way through his body pressed on top of yours.

"having trouble, hm?" a low, teasing voice rattles kindly into the shell of your ears before you cling onto him, the arch of your back more defined as you sneakily grind your sensitive cunt against his exposed erection, choking out a breathy sob as kaveh kisses the stinging splotches on your neck.

it's almost too slow to your own liking, amost punishing and it drives you mad— how kaveh doesn't give your little cunt some much needed attention, but instead wholly focuses on branding his white canines on your neck and collarbones instead, because the thought of someone seeing them was absolutely intoxicating, besides, it was way easier to spot that you're taken when your neck was littered all over with hickeys.

"mhm… no trouble." the gentle, candid noises you'd make whenever he tips you into a dreamy haze, it pushes kaveh towards the edge of cumming without even being touched by you yet. and he begins to rut the mattress underneath him in a feral tempo, immediately ghosting his hands over your shaky figure before settling two digits on top of your puffy clit— his wet lips, never leaving your neck and suckling strong on the soused places before rubbing your cunt, battering his rough finger pads against the thudding nerves and awaiting your moans turning the humid air all the more sweeter.

fuck— you’re barely able to express how good he made you feel and how impossibly deep his fingers reached inside, pummeling a hot bristle on your cheeks as your hips meet his sensual touch half way, the metrical movements slurred and passionate— perfect traces setting your skin aflame.

truthfully, it’s quite the win-win situation whenever kaveh marks you up and pleasures you at the same time— for one, it’s never hidden whenever curious eyes trail along your beautiful figure. whilst, okay, maybe you will end up trying to cover it up with a large scarf or a turtleneck, but your handsome boyfriend will scoff at you, overly dramatic, a sad roll of his eyes touching up his precious face when you tell him it's very inappropriate if someone spots those hickeys on you.

𖧡 — KAZUHA

you blink down between your parted thighs, in a daze, and whine out in the most heavenly tune imaginable, in utter approval when kazuha drags the flat of his tongue inside the flesh of your folds— the wet lick on you was certainly claiming and presses the air from your aching lungs, the pink muscle expertly gyrating through your slickness as he begins to suddenly mouth away from your approaching sensation.

you sob at the loss— heaving out little why, why, why’s before becoming irritated, tilting your head in confusion as your eyes follow how kazuha laps his tongue all the way to your thighs, precisely the spot that served as a bridge to your legs and your cunt. ah, you smell so nice, quite the sweet fragrance and kazuha truly wonders what that might be, locking his soused lips around a spot before greedily suckling at the skin, the squelching noises of his mouth echoing into your thudding flesh— earning a whispery gasp from you when his palm, that was previously placed on top of your stomach, suddenly touches your clit to rub his thumb right on top.

kazuha can notice the reactions he coaxed out of you a little more precise now, how delicious and perfect you tasted and ugh, the feeling on how you tense entirely when his lips nibble and gnaw around your skin ever so slightly while his finger grow greedy in their movements, eagerly massaging two digits on your folds before prodding at your slit.

he teases, your arousal gushing out of your hole that it makes his mouth water at the sight— truly unsure what he preferred right now.

irrespective of wether it was guzzling on copious amounts of places on your thighs and mark them with bristling hickeys— so kazuha can look at them whilst fucking into you, or even afterwards when he pats the quivering skin and prances his warm palm on top.

his mind spins dizzily now— the very reason for that being when he abruptly notices how you're pushing your hips upwards into his fingers when he kindly inserts the first, long digit into your gaping hole, parting your cunt effortlessly and stuffing your arousal right back into you.

the atmosphere inside the room too, grew in hotness before coming crushing down on your fondling bodies pleasing each other, sweat forming around your forehead and right under your breasts.

ugh, how cruel, it's so hard to choose— and kazuha believes he'd never be able to pick a favorite between pleasuring your cunt or marking you up for that matter. yet of course— and such goes without saying, as long as you're wholly enjoying yourself whenever he has his hands on you— there was no reason for him to stop doing it.

𖧡 — CYNO

cyno's grip around your wrists was powerful— so dominant and compelling that it's almost bruising your tender skin, in addition was it extremely pestering how he locked your hand above your head, rendering you moveless, so he could get a pretty good look on your cute nipples perked up all nicely and ready to receive his warm mouth gushing around them.

occasionally, he decides to pinch them, eagerly listening at how you're yelping out through a rigid jaw whenever he'd add a considerable amount of electric sparks through your flesh, then bring you back to his unwavering attention on your cunt as he keeps thrusting his hips hard.

"you do like that, yeah?" he mutters and makes sure he wasn't doing anything you weren't comfortable with, and hearing him say it through a luscious, cloudy tone made you clench around his dripping shaft even harder— but the very moment he slants his head down to mouth a couple wet spots on your breasts, you're done for.

"let me do that again.." he whispers, massaging one tit before gathering some of the flesh from the other, hollowing his cheeks, sucking down, repeating himself over and over. you whine, then moan his name, your lashes sticking together due to copious amounts of globules expelling from the corners of your eyes as you wiggle your hips for more, arching your back so you could push your tit into his mouth before he stains your skin with warm, tingling spots.

you swear he wasn't done yet, cyno was a sucker for drawing your orgasm out as long as possible, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing tall when he grazes his sharp teeth over a nipple, the trace of his canines stinging yet drawing you into his touch, luring your deepest, most desperate attempts to somehow make him reconsider, and give you what you truly desired.

𖧡 — VENTI

your fingers strongly web into venti's hair as he greedily stuffs your cunt with his cock, so desperate and rough that your sore hole clenches around his entire shaft to keep him inside, the sudden constriction on your tightness throwing him out of his smooth thrusts, becoming sloppier and erratic.

although— he loves the way you pull at his hair while he fucks you silly, even lets out a breathy chuckle against your parted mouth as you pull at the roots to press his lips against yours, so you could show him what he was doing to you, and how insane it made you feel. "mhm.. venti.." you sob, whine and pitch your hips up so he could continue to greedily devour your pussy, plummet his entire shaft inside and massage the spongy insides of your cunt— like he's never touched you before and has been starved of you for what felt like a gruesome eternity.

and venti can't wait any longer, your moans absolutely wrecked his sense of self control as he pulls away from your mouth before rutting himself deeper, hiding his face in your neck to suckle at the skin and sense your upped pulse vibrate over his precious lips.

his long lashes conceal the brilliant, unique shade of his lusting eyes as he fucks you like he hates you, however, venti was utterly obsessed with everything regarding you, strongly nestled between your thighs, leaving an aftertaste of his long, pink length on your walls before he pulls himself out instantly, fisting his cock into the small tunnel of his palms feverishly— it's such a lewd sight to behold and your mouth waters right then and there, panting out sweet, little winces when he pumps two fingers back into your core.

the capture of your orgasm hits you deep inside your constricted stomach, the strong aftershocks becoming excessively noticable due to the reappearing twitches in your hips as tears began to pearl at your lashes when you cum around his digits the second he empties himself out.

on the spot, venti moves himself on top of you the way he always yearned for, the way it just had to be, his breathing low and through gritted teeth as he shoots his warm whites over your bare torso, reaching all the way to your collarbones.

you flinch at the warm feeling, your toes curling inwards as you're giving him a few more seconds to empty himself out— messy hair strands sticking on his damped forehead as he groans deeply into his chest, then huffing out an exhausted laugh right afterwards. fuck, how he immediately sets his eyes on you to watch you relish whilst being soiled and marked up by him, being fully aware that venti cannot help himself but imprint himself on you, wether it was inside or outside, the visual perception of it alone sending a new twitch straight into his groin, his lips coated of saliva as his brain feels heavy with an obsessive amount of both bliss and lust.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dollsorwhatever]

wig

This wig was originally intended for one of my SDs but it turned out to be too short for what I wanted for her, so it quickly became a wig for my Jennifers lol

It was originally shoulder length, but I ripped out about 60% of the original wefts and replaced them with much longer hair before I fully layered it to have more potential for 60s/70s restyling!

It looks pretty gorgeous to me on it's own, but I've been really into making hairpieces lately, so I decided to make one to accompany this wig using the frontal from another wig that I ripped out.

It's mostly intended to be a bang piece, but I layered it to have potential for a range of styles depending on whether I pin it forward or backward! When pinned forward, the layering blends in seamlessly with the base wig (with the addition of a set of bangs). When pinned backward, the bangs can be formed into a small beehive in the back and the longer hair covers the face framing layers on the base wig to make it look slightly less feathered.

(she is wearing a spare Takara Long Hair Emily fashion that I restored a few weeks back!) Super happy with this wig and hairpiece! My Jennifers spent a lot of time serving as my wig styling mannequins, but they now have their own growing collection of wigs and hairpieces and I can't wait to make the next one!

[leah-of-troy]

I found a cheap enough loom!

Current goal, practice even if my tension is horrible

(yes I know that using a different colour weft is what's making it show up, but I want to be able to see what my weft is doing)

I'm used to warp faced heddle and tablet weaving, so that's my default to mimic. I don't actually know if that's what I should be doing on this style of loom. It means not using the red beater thing and using my shuttle as a beater (which is what I'm used to).

I am trying a thing and making progress at a craft I want to be ok at!

[wrongbodies]

The Mindweft

Intro: The Mindweft is a bit of a darling creation of mine. If you look at Choose Your Own Change's website, you can find my original stories there. It's an idea I have been cooking for a while, and I'd like to try making a fresh new story here. Weft refers to, when using a loom, the criss-crossing of threads. I am hopeful that you will see why I call it "The Mindweft."

Friday nights among Martin's friends were often spent playing Super Smash Bro's or Mario Kart. Despite the range of personalities among the four, they all preferred to hang out and geek out rather than get stupid drunk at some sweaty frat party.

Occasionally, Leo would join his soccer team friends for some late night hijinks, but he was more reserved than most of those boys. He was content to hang out and then hook up with a random girl after 1am. Martin recognized that Leo was a beautiful man, so he fully understood how he could pull such attention.

Martin's other friends, Kevin and Billy were also unique enough that it might seem strange of a friend group to be so eclectic. Kevin, his stocky but strong friend, had become a gymrat back in high school and was ripped. He was short, sure, but his muscles attested to the devotion he gave to working out.

Billy on the other hand was a string bean, tall and gangly. He was also a brilliant musician, always willing to bust out an instrument to play something or other. He was chill though, in that he didn't try to steal all the attention with his music skills.

And then there is Martin, the fairly average guy who was openly gay - but very unlucky with dates or hookups. He tried, he just doesn't have much charisma. His friends tried to "gas him up" but it wasn't effective. He had made a fool of himself a few too many times now at the school.

So, things were typical for the friend group around 11pm that night in Martin's room. They sat around playing the video game, and generally cracking jokes amongst themselves, eating junk food, and drinking the cheapest beer they could get their hands on. All seemed fine until a knocking came on the door of the cramped dorm room.

Martin got up and answered the door, puzzled who could be knocking. It wasn't too loud, so it couldn't be the RA, he thought. Well, sure enough just outside the room stood Gray. Martin froze his face, not wanting to give away his general disdain for Gray.

Gray stood before him, his acne-crusted face, dorky glasses, and bizarre mish-mash of clothing screaming "ultra dork." His hair was short, but somehow still discernibly greasy. Even his glasses were smudged with grease.

"Hi Martin! What are you guys up to?" He asked, nasally voice grating on Martin's ears.

"Oh, um - we are just having a little friend kickback in here." Martin said.

"Cool! I love Smash!" Gray said, somehow slipping under and past Martin's arms as he tried to keep Gray out. When Martin turned, he saw his friends giving him a distinctive look. Yeah... he was sure they were annoyed Gray was here. They were polite to him, because clearly he had a lack of social skills. He also clearly lacked much self-awareness.

The group begrudgingly let him join their game. He was terrible, but he nonetheless was loud and boisterous. Even if they got into it a little bit, enjoying the games, he had a natural ability to make it weird for them.

After an hour, the vibe was shifting and Martin could tell his friends were interested in leaving. Gray on the other hand stopped the game and looked around. He seemed to be working himself up to something.

"Have you guys ever heard of the Mindweft?" He asked. Voice taking on a somewhat mysterious tone.

"The mind-what?" Kevin asked.

"The Mindweft." Gray restated.

"No, I can't say I've ever heard of it." Martin added.

The rest of the friends nodded in agreement, mumbling their negative answers.

"Well, it's the coolest thing ever. I can show you if you want?" Gray asked.

"Wait, what even is it?" Leo inquired.

"Ok, you know how like dreaming is sometimes so real, like lucid dreaming?" Gray explained, looking around. "The Mindweft is like a lucid dream, but we all are together and conscious in the same dream."

"Is this metaphorical? Or can you actually gather us into a dream? How do we even get there?" Billy asked.

"We have to meditate together. I can lead us into the Mindweft." Gray gestured, laying down.

"What are you doing?" Martin asked.

"We have to lay so our heads are near each others. Then I will help us into the Mindweft." Gray explained.

The guys rolled their eyes and grumbled, but they decided to humor Gray. Soon, all of them were laying in a strange circle with their heads nearly pressed against one another. As soon as the last person was in place, Gray started saying some strange things. Words that Martin or the others didn't recognize.

After a while of the chanting, everyone felt their eyelids getting heavy. They were each drifting off into sleep, and the sensation was soothing. And then, their eyes fully closed, and Gray slipped into the Mindweft a moment after them.

When the group came to, they saw before and all around them the strangest sight of ever. They stood in a void, with glowing strands all around. They saw each other, looking much the same as they did in the waking world. Gray appeared next to them, already grinning like he won something.

"Wow, I thought you were just fucking with us..." Leo said, softly.

"I wouldn't! Welcome to the Mindweft." Gray stated, grandly sweeping his arm towards the void.

"So, what do we do?" Martin asked.

"Well, we can view other peoples dreams, mostly. But... there was something more interesting that I learned about." Gray said, an unpleasant smile spreading across his face.

"Ok... what is that?" Martin asked, skeeved out.

"Well, when you want to leave the Mindweft, you conjure up a door. That door leads to your mind. Try it with me." He concentrated, and behind Gray appeared a door. It was unique, splattered with paint and a little crusty around the face of the door.

The rest of the guys focused, and sure enough, doors materialized behind each of them. Each door was unique to the individual. They even featured their names on them.

"Ok, now that we see the doors, here is the interesting thing." Gray said, clearly antsy to get to the next part.

"When we walk through our own door, we just wake up in our body. However, if you walk through someone elses door... you become them!"

Kevin looked skeptical. "So you mean if I step through Billy's door, I will wake up in his body? What happens to mind?"

"Well, someone else would slip into yours, of course!" Gray said, excitedly.

"Do we even want to do that?" Kevin asked.

"I mean, it does sound kinda interesting." Billy admitted.

"I wouldn't mind a change." Leo said, looking at Billy and Kevin a little too closely.

"I guess..." Kevin huffed.

"So it's decided!" Gray announced. "Each of us will step through another's door."

Martin grimaced, but nodded. "Who is swapping with who?"

"I want to swap with Billy." Leo said. The two exchanged a weird look.

"Well, I want to be Leo." Kevin said. He looked at the other two.

"I guess I could be Kevin." Billy said.

"Ooooh, a 3 way swap. I like it." Gray said. "That leaves me and Martin."

Martin died inside, he was sure. He barely tolerated Grays presence, let alone being inside his body. He was just going along with it, but he didn't have to like it.

"Ok, go ahead and go through the doors." Gray commanded. He strode right over to Martin's, and opened it. He didn't even look back as he vanished into a darkness behind the threshold, and then the door dematerialized.

"I guess I'm doing this." Martin said to himself. He walked up and threw open Grays door. He took a few steps in and then was waking up, still lying on the floor of his dorm room.

The room was aflutter, as each guy sat up and immediately realized their body was completely different. Martin confirmed his own swap when he patted down his torso, feeling the scrawny chest of Grays weak body. He started to feel his face, the grease undeniable across his cheeks.

"Wow!" Gray shouted, looking down his pants, or rather - down Martin's pants. "Nice cock, Martin!"

"What the fuck dude, don't do that!" Martin snapped.

"Hey, I'm just getting acquainted with my new machinery." Gray said too awkwardly. He smiled, but his smile didn't look like Martin's did, it was crooked somehow and insincere.

The other boys were all laughing amongst themselves as they felt their bodies up. Martin, on the other hand, stood awkwardly by the door. He was rapidly getting a bad feeling about this.

To be continued...

[elodieunderglass]

egg for Killie!

yesterday's progress, about two hours' work: went from photo 1 (last time I touched it, weeks ago) through photos 2 and 3 to photo 4

notice, secondarily, that the weft thread is showing through the black stripe on the left edge, and primarily (and more visible in photo 5), that what is supposed to be a white stripe on the right side between the purple and gray stripes (mirroring the stripes on the left), is not connecting with the rest of anything at all

today's progress, about two hours' work (with Mila helping of course, as shown in photos 6 and 7):

unweaved everything, discovered the card that's threaded with the warp for that white stripe on the right was no longer (or never was) tied like the rest of the warp, while the cards for the gray and black stripes were halfway to escaping the loom altogether

I count 18 threaded cards with correct tension still on the loom (divided in photo 8 into 3 groups of 6), 2 threaded cards off the loom, 5 cards I'd left in the 25-pack bc I was threading a total of 20 cards, and four white threads that it doesn't look like I ever got them through a card at all

and now I am very frustrated and Doing Something Else for a while, with suspicions that tomorrow I'll redo the warp so it'll be either plain ace pride stripes or (intentional from the start) violet-lavender-white queer pride chevrons

...egg for Killie? but I think this one splattered on my face...

OH DEAR. Okay. it really is like that sometimes.

Hey, there's something here about progress and forward momentum, and how sometimes they go backwards. Unravelling, unpicking, going back to the start, deleting, breaking up, seeing the mistake, apologising, admitting that this wasn't working out.

In creative works, we often forget that this is also process. we also forget this in life, generally.

it's hard because it means giving up two hours, and the one thing we don't a refund for is the time. I agree that it's terrifically unfair. but that's a huge part of the bravery and risk of creative work.

so it IS forward. and you DO get an egg.

thank you so much for the egg. here's it killing Killie.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Shen Jiu wakes up with dried tear tracks that make his face stiff, his eyelashes tacky.

The soft light of morning streamed into his quarters, bathing him in warm sunlight. His nerves were settled, his body uncoiled like worn rope finally unwound. It was a welcome change of pace from the on-edge and tense mornings that followed his nightmares.

He forewent his usual morning routine of deep breaths and paltry meditation, of white-knuckling himself into a form of composure; smoothing over the raw edges exposed by sleep. Instead he drifts around his quiet home, his mind soothed by the suffused peace of morning.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord was entitled to beautiful views, especially in his own residence.

He enjoys the chance to admire those views in the early morning light.

Surely he must have done so before, but he cannot recall.

He drifts towards his oft-neglected east window, peering out into the unknown. Immediately his eyes are drawn towards a yellow flutter of movement.

A golden oriole flies past his windowsill holding a small twig in its beak.

A gentle breeze brushes past the oriole’s tail feathers and caresses Shen Jiu’s face.

Again, and again, the small passerine searched out and returned with building pieces for its nest. Unceasing, inexorable, Shen Jiu watches as the oriole builds its home.

Golden feathers flash before his face, and a second oriole streaks into view. Morninglight reflects off of the pair as their black crested heads come together in what seems to be an embrace.

Framed by the verdant green of Qing Jing’s morning glory, haloed by the sun, the new coming oriole delicately passes a twig to the diligent oriole.

Branch by branch, the unflagging passerine weaves together a home, and Shen Jiu aches within himself.

Even birds have a home with which to roost.

(They had to build them. If a little oriole could build a home, why couldn't you?)

His hands have never known the shape of a home, only the absence of one. Could he be so talented a craftsman that he could translate his childish yearning into something he could grasp with his hands?

Perhaps he is the one who determines the shape of home.

Does the oriole know the shape of the nest before it is woven? Or is it the process of weaving in the weft, grasping those pieces in your hand, that tells you what home should feel like?

How much has he stolen from himself? How many moments of beauty, how many moments of peace? In his anger he has created a snaggle with the pieces he should have been building with.

He has bound himself with the very threads he should have wrapped ‘round his shoulders. Prisoner to his own anger, his bitter spite.

It seems Shen Jiu has followed in the steps of the world in every part of his life. How many have stolen from him? So he too has stolen from himself.

It is good, that he has begun to take action, but he cannot help but mourn for how much he has lost. His fingers trace the windowsill, and his face twists into a frown, the dried tears making his cheeks crack with the movement.

Outside is green, lush.

It’s beautiful.

Tension in his shoulders releases, from a night of dreams, or the sedate morning, he cannot know. The air smells of fragrant grass, fresh soap from the curtains, a whisper of incense from his study.

Between the rays of amber morning his mind’s eye convinced him he saw movement. A living memory, come to haunt him. An afterimage, of Shen Yuan’s sunlit dancing, the halo of his head, the sheen of his hair intermixed with the sunstained bamboo leaves.

His uplifted hands flicker like oriole’s wings, and the smile of his lips red like the petals of the peonies. The swirl of his humble robes like the sway of the magnolias in the morning breeze.

A duet registers in his ears, the oriole couple’s morning song, the beat, the music of Shen Yuan’s feet.

Shen Jiu is suspended in a dream.

His heart beats in tandem with the jubilant sweeps of hand, done in by morning and memory.

He feels the breath in his lungs, the texture smooth wood varnish of the windowsill at his fingertips, the brush of his unbound hair at his neck, his sleep chapped lips curving in an unfamiliar shape.

A lightness of heart falls upon him, and muscles disused save for cruel amusement twist into a small smile.

It seems A-Yuan blesses his work then.

His work that day was light.

Even the memory of Shen Yuan brings him good things. How is it possible that his love could not only persist, but grow?

Taken from my oneshot, because I was rereading and really liked this scene and wanted to share.

The small passage about home, determining and building it, especially, is one I find precious. Perhaps home is built a memory and joy at a time, every small bit of goodness you have in your hands, woven together.

These are the notes accompanying the scene which I think are a nice addition: "Orioles — Symbolize joy. Pair this the direction they’re in, East: new beginnings, prosperity, and well-being. Generally speaking, take this subtle thing to mean that there is joy in their new beginning."

May we find as pleasant a morning as SJ in this scene (⁠⊃⁠｡⁠•́⁠‿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)⁠⊃ (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[handweavers]

Would it be recommended to make ribbon on a loom? I see jacquard ribbon in stores and I know that’s a type of loom. Is this something a person could make at home?

you can absolutely make ribbon by hand! many cultures have versions of band or tape weaving (those are older terms to refer to thin decorative strips of fabric, and helpful to know if you're researching weaving this type of textile) and they can be warp or weft faced, in other words the vertical threads can make the patterned design or the horizontal threads can make the patterned design. warp-faced woven bands are very popular in many cultures because they make a durable, strong fabric that can work for anything from straps for bags or other utility items, to decorative applique on garments and even hem-facings

norwegian pick up band weaving gives an effect similar to jacquard ribbon, you can see more about it here

brocade tablet weaving also gives a similar effect, which you can read about here

more about band weaving

fingerweaving is another technique that can create elaborately woven bands, and has been practiced in northern europe as well as among the indigenous peoples of the americas. it is the technique that métis sashes are made with, and bands woven with this technique have also been found in old viking graves. you can read about it here

if you're interested in learning any of these techniques, you don't need a table or floor loom to make them. some work best with an inkle loom, which is generally small and portable, or can be made off loom using heddles or tablets. searching 'band weaving' either online, at a book store, or a library site can lead to a ton of resources on the subject, far too many for me to cover here 🤎

[batbetbitbotbut]

So I am still a very very very new weaver and things don't always turn out how I want. This was my first attempt at "overshot", a weave structure which is meant to have a soft thick weft making fancy patterns over and under a square plain weave background, and it was awful! I got the plain weave maths wrong so it isn't square to begin with, and I got the yarns wrong so despite the coloured cotton being twice as thick as the white cotton it didn't cover it up at all. I hated it!

Tried again with half as many plain weave weft shots, to force the colour to be a little denser even though the plain weave was much further off square, and I still hated it and also it was really hard to keep track of the pattern.

And then something on the loom came loose so I couldn't weave at all and I was so disheartened and also I couldn't figure out what was wrong so I pretended the loom didn't exist for like 2 weeks. It was the brake tension screw and it's fine but for a long time I couldn't even face troubleshooting it. Also I made this warp quite wide which was A Choice(TM) for my first attempt at a new technique and it just made all the fixing harder.

Anyway, problem fixed and I made yet another attempt, this time doubling the weft. And it's working! We're finally getting some solid patterns! It's not perfect but it's workable.

In theory, those ovals were meant to be circles. So after working 1 full motif I started afresh yet again and shortened the pattern a bit. Switched to purple because I was concerned about using up so much pink on these samples.

And!!! It's okay! It's not everything I had hoped for but it's alright to look at and it's alright to weave. So finally, FINALLY I moved on with the rainbow instead of restarting again.

Still experimenting with the pattern a bit, so this particular tea towel won't quite have even stripes, but I like it more and more as I go. It only took like a week of warping and two weeks of suffering and a week of slowly facing the pain and shame. Next project will be anything but overshot, but he only way out is through.

Onwards!

[mawofthemagnetar]

TFC’s Completely Normal Afternoon Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Nobody Dies Horribly

(shoutout to @lindentree for inspiring this silly fic!)

TFC sat in his little bachelor pad, coffee in hand, watching the steam rise out of his mug. 

It was a nice mug, all things considered. A gift from the other Hermits. A handmade blue thing, turned on a potter’s wheel, with an extra-large handle to give his old hands a break sometimes. Full of coffee from his ancient coffee machine, that gurgled and growled like a jackhammer being waterboarded.

TFC took a sip, and winced. Okay, so maybe it was time to leave the mine and get more coffee. He’d re-used the grounds for the fourth time, and now it was really starting to get properly bitter. 

He drummed his fingers on his glass-top table, listening to the echo against the cold stone walls of his little antechamber. Maybe he’d decorate the walls at some point soon. 

TFC shrugged, and opened his comm. Hopefully one of the other Hermits had some coffee beans. He wiped the stone dust off his screen, and held down the three buttons to switch it on. Yes, he kept his comm strapped to his arm like almost every other player with some semblance of sense. No, he refused to let the damn thing be awake for any longer than it needed to be. The Hermits were chatty folks, and when TFC was deep in his mines and deep in thought, the last thing he needed interrupting his musings was a million buzzing noises as Cleo and Jevin got into a slapfight in the general chat. 

TFC’s personal logo flashed across the screen (the three letters of his name in red, natch) and he took another slurp of his bitter coffee, wrinkling his nose. The comm beeped, and TFC opened the group chat and tapped out a quick message. 

<Tinfoilchef> anyone got any more coffee? I’m clean out. 

He put his comm down, and took another swig. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

TFC frowned. He was a patient man by nature. The same could not be said of the other Hermits, who were usually falling over themselves to help each other out. 

And he hadn’t gotten a reply yet. 

It had been a whole ninety seconds.

TFC scrolled up in chat, and he sighed, rubbing his face. He sank back in his chair in annoyance. 

Of course. 

He tabbed upwards, watching things spiral out of control… in reverse. 

<Renthedog was blanched to death> 

<Renthedog> THE PAIN! THE PAIN IS INDESCRIBABLE

<Vintagebeef was portaged to death> 

<Vintagebeef> RUN! THE BOATS! THE BOATS ARE COMING!

TFC rubbed his temples with his free hand, sighing in exasperation. ‘

“Guys, I dug up five stacks of diamonds, don’t make me do this…I don’t want to re-dig those tunnels…” TFC groaned. 

And of course the nonsense kept coming as he scrolled farther and farther back. Gee, that last message from Ren was about four hours ago, now...

<Iskall85 became part of the weft> 

<Iskall85> HELP GOD THE LOOM’S GROWN LEGS

“Does anyone on this server besides me even know HOW to weave?!” TFC growled, averting his gaze from his pile of unfinished weaving in the corner of the room. It didn’t exist. He couldn’t see it. His WIP’s couldn’t hurt him.

And on and on it went.

<Xisumavoid was hooked to death>

<Grian was torqued to death>

<Tango was unraveled to death> 

<Zombiecleo was racqueted to death>

“Right, I’ve seen enough.” TFC sighed, “On the bright side, at least I’ll have all the coffee I had a week ago, so there’s that…” 

He carefully tabbed through his various screens and menus until he arrived at the one bit of his comm that was set aside for admin functions. Now, TFC wasn’t a server admin. That much was true. But he had slight admin privileges, for one thing and one thing only: server rollbacks. 

While, say, Hypno would have had an extensive wall of options, showing his permissions and all sorts of bells and whistles, TFC’s admin console had a text box to input a date and a big red “GO” button. 

He looked mournfully at his ender chest, and, with a sigh, keyed in a date one week prior. 

And TFC jabbed his thumb on the big red button. 

The world flashed white, utterly blinding him, and a second later TFC was deep in the branch mine in a half-finished tunnel, the same spot he’d been exactly a week prior. 

Unfortunately, he was still in a comfortable sitting position, resting all his weight on a chair that suddenly wasn’t there, so he immediately toppled to the ground, landing on his ass in an undignified heap. 

“Ow.” TFC muttered, sitting up slowly and tapping through his messages. 

<Xisuma> oh, we rolled back. Is everyone alright!?

<Tango> Mumbo you are BANNED FROM TIME TRAVEL

<MumboJumbo> It wasn’t me this time! I mean it was. But blame Zedaph! 

<Zedaph> ME?! No! Blame Cub! Cub gave me the doodad! 

TFC rolled his eyes and typed out a message. 

<Tinfoilchef> Does anyone have any fresh coffee beans?

Silence. 

No messages. No new complaining. As all the hermits re-read TFC’s words and soaked them in. 

Finally, Cleo broke the silence. 

<Zombiecleo> TFC. How many times did you re-use your last filter of grounds. 

<TinfoilChef> eh, six? Seven?

<Zombiecleo> are you telling me we’d all still be in shuttlecock hell if you hadn’t gotten sick of the taste of reused coffee grinds?!

<TinfoilChef> Pretty much, yeah 

<TinfoilChef> anyway 

<TinfoilChef> does anyone have some fresh coffee? 

[naturesapphic]

Hiii are you open to more Mommy!RheaR?

If sooo can you do som hurt comfort where Little!reader wakes up in bed alone (separation anxiety) and goes into a spiral of thinking that Rhea left and Rhea, who just went to get water and maybe check instagram (again) comes back to bed to a crying baby who’s too upset to sleep?

-🟧Anon thx

Separation anxiety

Mommy!rhea ripley x fem!little!reader

Warnings: age regression, hurt/comfort

Rhea was stirred awake by the grumble of her stomach and the dryness of her throat. She careful got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make her a little snack with some water. It wasn’t too long after she left that you started to stir awake when you felt that your mommy’s warm body wasn’t beside you. Your eyes shot opened and looked around and found that your mommy was gone.

Your mind and body started spiraling and coming up with every situation possible to why your mommy has left. “What if she was kidnapped?” “What if mommy fell asleep in the living room? What if she realized she doesn’t want us anymore and left.” Is what you were thinking and the last thought was the one that broke you. You started sobbing and crying for you mommy, hoping she would somehow hear you if she really did leave.

Rhea was finishing up her snack and water when she decided to check instagram for a bit. She went through some fan art and reposted it and liked some photos of her fans doing her makeup looks. She smiled and put her phone away as she threw away her trash and put her cup in the sink. She walked up the stairs and went back to y’all’s shared room, but what made her heart drop was the sound of your cries.

She immediately went over to the bed and got inside of it and pulled your shaking body towards her. “Hey it’s okay baby…mommy’s here…what’s wrong possum?” She quietly shushed you. You sniffled and looked up at her with your bottom lip quivering. “I t-tought c-chu weft m-me mommy…” you whimpered out and Rhea pulled you on top of her and wrapped her strong Buffy arms around your tiny body.

“I would never do that princess. You never have to worry about me leaving you like that. Okay? I’m staying and not going anywhere.” Rhea reassured you and you felt yourself relax at her words but they never fully went away. “S-scared tos s-sweep…” you mumbled against her chest and she sighed softly. “Would you fall asleep if mommy tells you some stories?” She asked you and you nodded your head excitedly which made Rhea chuckle. “Okay little one..” she said and started telling you some childhood stories and some wrestling stories she heard and went through.

By the end of it, you were sound asleep, little snores coming from your mouth as you snuggled into your mommy. A big smile appeared on her face and she got comfy in the covers with you on top of her and fell into a deep sleep like you.

A/n: I’m always open for request unless I say otherwise and thank you for requesting! I hope you liked it #🟧Anon and I hope the rest of you liked it as well. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)