#which gives me time to figure out what pattern to quilt on it

[bwabbitv3s]

Quilting Progress

For my Christmas quilt I am working I have hit a tiny road bump. I want 100% cotton batting for it, but none of my local stores have it. Which means it is going to take a week for it to come in. Another thing I decide on is what I am doing for the backing. Queen sized flat sheet! Yes, I decided to use that hack for getting a large piece of fabric for the back. Bonus it is super cozy and way cheaper than yardage.

Other thing I did was pulled out the last quilt I had been working on to finish. See it is also a Christmas quilt, but I fell out of love with the fabric combination. I like them all but after sewing the quilt top it just did not look right to me anymore. Which was a huge frustration and left me a bit burnt out on quilting. It was banished to stay in the craft closet till I was ready to deal with it.

Well that was several years ago and the time is now to get that quilt done. I pulled out the quilt top I had finished, gave it a good iron, and did the same to the backing. It still is not quite what I want, but that does not matter as I decided it will become the dogs quilt. Benji is getting his own quilt for Christmas. Which is going to be perfect to throw on the couch to protect it. It also is going to be a great way to get into the groove of quilting to practice finishing his quilt first.

All of this is kinda funny as I have wanted a Christmas quilt for a very long time but never got the project done. Now I am about to go from having no Christmas quilts to two. Plus another that is still in the final planning stage. As some of the fabric I had bought is about 2/3 of what is needed for a quilt. What pattern I will use is still being decided. All this plus the Halloween quilt I have slowly been getting fabric for is almost enough to start working on also. Looks like this fall and winter I will be doing a lot of sewing and quilting.

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Ghost keeps a clean house. Soap knows this is true for his pack, his office, his room, and—to all assumptions—his apartment.

The circumstances of how Soap got there are too jumbled with the high of a mission and the drop of mandated time off. He didn’t want to take time off, neither did Ghost.

He can’t quite remember which one of them fumbled through the offer to stick together- only to maintain their schedules, of course. They still had additional reports and inventory to do, it was only tactical.

So now here he stands, in Ghost’s wholly spartan apartment. It’s been stripped of all charm and frivolity not painted on the walls or molded into the quaintly patterned glass by the front door. It’s not intentionally devoid of comfort- Ghost may be many things, but even he didn’t go out of his way to live without small comforts. There’s an old but soft couch, rugs and mats placed around the doors, and even lamps to offset the harsh over-heads.

The most curious thing, the one that really catches Soaps eyes, is the only visible adornment, quilts.

Great, sprawling tiled blankets (tapestries?) are hung from most of the walls. There’s one draped over the back of the sofa, tucked into the seat of the solitary plush chair. There’s smaller, flat pillows on the few chairs in the kitchen. There’s even placemats on the table. All colored with swirls of vibrant linen in dazzling patterns.

Ghost catches him staring as he leads them through his space (They decided on his apartment, given Soap’s was a bachelor pad, while Ghost had a guest room).

“My mum used to quilt.” Ghost says cryptically, and snags the pack off Soap’s shoulder while he’s still too busy gawking to protest.

Later, after they’ve showered off their travel and eaten something not wrapped in plastic and some amount of mud, Soap tries to breach the topic. Ghost replies as vaguely as ever,

“She tried to make me a baby blanket, never finished it.” Which takes Soap for a spin because based on what Ghost had previously (not) said, he’d assumed his mom had made them. He leaves it be.

Much later, after they’ve settled back into some semblance of their normal routine, Soap finally figures it out. It’s late at night, later than he should be awake after running himself ragged in the gym.

He’s stuck in a state of un-anxiety, which is in itself anxiety inducing, when he hears something next door. It’s rhythmic, mechanical, sharp, but in a way that’s distinctly well milled.

It’s coming from Ghost’s room, and if it were earlier in the night he might’ve just let it be, but he’s curious and without anything better to do.

He drags himself out of bed, slips on a shirt, and makes his way to Ghost’s room. It had been excluded from the gruff house tour he’d been giving on arrival, and right as he creaks the door open he understands why.

There are shelves covering the whole wall opposite to the door, obviously custom built, filled with bat upon bat of colorful fabric. The same colorful fabric, Soap realizes, that makes up the sole decoration in Ghost’s apartment. Sat at a desk, hunched slightly over a near-antique sewing machine, is Ghost.

Soap stares.

Ghost stares back at him, deceptively warm in the light of the machine. Soap can only imagine what he looks like, half awake and face cavernous in the dark of the hallway. There’s a momentary stand-off, Soap inanimate, Ghost giving him a look of challenge.

Soap breaks it first, glancing away and to Ghost’s project. It’s half-way finished, colored with calming blues and grays. Ghost seems satisfied and turns back to his work, ignoring him entirely.

Soap, sleep addled and out of his depth, takes the dismissal for all it could be. He shuts the door behind him, for both their sanities, and sits down on Ghost’s bed. It’s covered in a thick quilt, made of reds and golds and the occasional maroon hexagon. It’s unlike anything he’s thought of Ghost as, but he’s beginning to think this is the most raw he’ll ever see him.

The hum of the machine, combined with his tiredness, or maybe with the air of safety that curled around him with Ghost in his sights, starts to lull Soap to sleep.

He blinks himself an awake every time, waiting for the cozy haze to lift and Ghost to kick him out. But it never does, and the time between his eyes closing and opening slowly becomes longer and longer.

He must’ve properly fallen asleep when he’s jolted awake by the sound of plastic on plastic. Ghost had switched off his machine and was clamping closed a large, sorted box of pins. He glances back at Soap,

“Go to sleep, Mactavish.”

And Soap is nothing if not trusting of Ghost, so he does as he’s told. He’s woken again, briefly, by Ghost pulling the quilt out from underneath where he’d laid on top of it. There’s a rush of cold air, a dip in the bed beside him, and then the warm blanket being draped over him.

He makes a slight noise of alarm as he realizes it’s Ghost crawling into bed with him. Ghost huffs and grabs him by the arm, stopping him from sitting up and pulling his head to rest on a pillow in one motion. He lets go, then, and turns away from Soap.

“You can go if you want.” He rasps. Soap belatedly realizes he hadn’t talked to the other man much the previous day. He hums in clumsy thanks before finally falling asleep.

Later, Soap asks (he doesn’t beg, he’s a grown adult) Ghost to make him a quilt. He doesn’t expect him to say yes, or to have him pick the patterns, or to let him intrude on his room again almost nightly, but Ghost does.

They both know it’s not about the quilt.

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 9/34 - bedhead

[Read on AO3]

She wakes to something poking her in the face, and blinks blearily in confusion. With furrowed brows, she forces her eyes to focus on whatever is in front of her, and comes face to face with Mulder and his index finger, which gives her one final poke in the cheek.

“You that desperate to be the first one downstairs for present time, Scully?” he asks with an amused smile, leaning over her in the La-Z-Boy, which she somehow managed to stay asleep in all night long. He’s far too cheerful for whatever time it must be in the morning, but one whiff of the air tells her why. Coffee.

He waves a cup of the steaming liquid right below her nose, and it snaps her to attention within seconds, which draws a chuckle out of him. He gives her space to sit up and stretch her aching back before pressing the mug into her hands, ensuring that she has a handle on it before letting go.

“Does it count as being first if you’re asleep?” he asks. “Because if not, me and your nephew have you beat for first and second place. Bill’s been down, too.”

She’s too tired to worry about that. Instead she takes a long draw from her coffee cup and scans over to the tree, where countless beautifully wrapped gifts lay in wait for one terror of a two-year-old and the rest of the family to open them.

“You made coffee?” she asks, her voice raspy from disuse. She wonders what a sight she must be, with mussed bedhead and hair that had been allowed to air-dry after her shower the night before.

“Hope your mom doesn’t mind,” he answers. “Figured I’d try to have a peace offering ready in case Bill came down. I think it paid off.”

Just then, her brother enters the room, glancing over at her disapprovingly but saying nothing. Matthew trails after him with enough energy that Scully half wonders if he’d had a taste of the coffee too, and he plops himself in front of the tree, excitedly asking when he can start opening the presents.

Mulder stands and heads back to the couch, sitting on it casually and taking a sip of his own coffee. The quilt and pillow are nowhere to be seen, so he must have been up for a while. His sleep patterns will never make sense to her.

“Something wrong with your room, Dana?” Bill asks, standing up against the wall despite the open space on the couch next to Mulder.

“Couldn't sleep,” she answers, her tone one of warning should he continue this line of questioning. Thankfully, he gets the hint and shuts his mouth.

Once the caffeine starts to kick in, she excuses herself to go freshen up. When she returns, she casts a glance at the recliner that had served as her bed, and instead opts to sit by her partner. She sips from her refilled coffee mug, basking in the comfortable feeling of an early morning with the people she cares about most in the world all under one roof. Mulder is all soft edges this morning, still clad in flannel pajamas with bedhead that he'd done a poor job of straightening out. There seems to be a permanent contented smile on his face, though, as he watches her nephew agonize over not being able to open a present yet. Maybe he’s remembering a time when he had such zeal for the holiday.

Eventually the remaining Scully family makes their appearance, Tara and Maggie making a quick detour to the kitchen for their own daily dose of caffeine with Charlie right behind them.

“Morning, Fox,” Maggie says cheerfully before stooping to press a kiss to Dana’s cheek. “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” he answers truthfully.

If Bill seethes, Mulder takes no notice of it.

“There's the big bad feds,” Charlie teases, coming up behind them and messing their hair with each of his hands. “How was 'work'?”

Scully shoots him a look, effectively silencing him with her big sister sense of authority. He chuckles and takes a seat on the ground by the fireplace. 

With the entire family present and accounted for, Matthew is finally given the go-ahead for tearing into the gift wrapping, exclaiming excitedly with each toy he unwraps from Santa Claus.

“Pass me that green and white one, Matty,” Tara says, pointing to a small box under the tree and relaying it to her mother-in-law. Soon enough, there's a present in every person's hand, Mulder included. He gets some nice tie clips from Maggie and a box of dried meats from Bill and Tara (mostly just Tara, if Scully had to guess). Even Charlie had a package of nice socks to give him, probably a last-minute purchase, but appreciated nonetheless.

Mulder's beaming smile tears at her heart, and she wonders how long it has been since he's had a proper Christmas like this. Surrounded by family, excitement and cheer filling the air. She thinks she knows the answer, and it fills her with sadness. 

“Is there a present for Fox from you under here, Dana?” Maggie asks, now kneeling beside her grandson at the foot of the tree.

“Mulder and I already exchanged gifts, Mom,” she answers.

Exchanged a few other things too, she thinks. Most notably: vows.

Her mother looks up with interest. “Oh? What did he get you?”

Scully blushes. She hadn't been prepared to actually answer this question, though she probably should have been. “Oh, um… Jewelry,” she says, resisting the urge to touch the item in question under her shirt.

“Classic,” Charlie says, reaching out to fist bump Mulder.

“Actually, Scully, there is a little something else under that tree for you,” Mulder cuts in.

After last year's ‘we're not exchanging gifts’ gift exchange, she's not surprised, but she gives him an exasperated look anyway. “I thought you might say that,” she says, standing and grabbing a nicely wrapped package from behind the tree and handing it to him. Maggie finds the one Mulder snuck under there and hands it to her daughter, smiling at the two of them as they begin to tear open the paper.

For Mulder, there's a stack of crossword puzzle booklets and other travel sized games—sudoku, mad libs, a deck of cards, even a magnetic pocket-sized chess and checkerboard set that they can take on trips.

“Hey, no more I Spy and tic tac toe!” he says excitedly, flipping through one of the booklets. 

With as much as they travel—long hours in cars and planes and airports and motels with spotty satellite TV—they've pretty much used up all their options for passing the time. Their only deck of cards is somehow missing eight cards and has an extra two of hearts that they're not sure where it came from. A replacement pack is long overdue.

“I can't wait to wipe the floor with you at chess,” he says. “Thanks, Scully.”

She returns her attention to the box in her lap, free of paper but otherwise still unopened. 

“Go on, open it!” Tara says impatiently, craning her neck to watch as Dana lifts the lid off and peels back the tissue paper inside.

“Oh, Mulder,” she breathes, lifting a heavy book from the box. The front cover is plain, no lettering or images on it, but she can tell what it is in an instant.

A scrapbook.

She opens it to the first page, wondering what he could have possibly put inside. It's sparse—there aren't that many pictures of them together, after all—but he's scrounged up some that must have been taken at crime scenes, and one she vaguely remembers Frohike taking the first day she met the Gunmen. 

But perhaps more telling than the few pages that are filled in are the empty pages at the back, just waiting to be added to. She knows what he means by giving her this, and it causes a lump to form in her throat. 

“You look so serious, Dana,” her mother says, glancing over her shoulder at a photo of her and Mulder in their FBI jackets looking over some evidence. 

“Well, yeah, I'm at work, Mom,” she laughs, thankful for the distraction to keep her from crying in front of everyone.

“That's just the face she makes when she's about to refute my theory with cold hard science,” Mulder jokes, leaning back proudly on the couch. 

She looks at him, blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

“Mulder, this is… I didn't get you enough, your gift is so thoughtful…”

He shakes his head. “Scully, the fact that you even want to spend time with me long enough to play any of the games you got me is enough of a gift,” he says. “Seriously. You've given me a lot more than you think you have, I'm just trying to catch up.”

Charlie makes an exaggerated pouty face at her, which she catches out of the corner of her eye. He's lucky she's being watched by everyone else, otherwise she'd throw a pillow at him.

“Well, thank you,” she says. If they were alone, she'd hug him, but… Well, she's already uncomfortable with the amount of attention she's getting. She doesn't need to make it worse. She hopes he can see how grateful she is in her eyes. For now, she closes the book and sets it aside.

She scoots just that little bit closer to him on the couch while the others continue opening the last few presents, his leg brushing against hers ever so slightly. Thank you, she’s saying. This means the world to me.

-.-.-

“Hey,” Charlie says from behind him, startling Mulder out of a kind of daze.

He tears his eyes away from where Scully is standing on the other side of the room, making polite conversation with some of her mother’s friends after dinner. Charlie is a fair bit shorter than he is, but still taller than his sister, if not by much. 

“I took a look through that scrapbook you got Dana,” he continues. “I hope you don’t mind.”

He kind of does, actually, but he supposes he never made it clear one way or another, so he can’t really blame her family for being curious. It’s just… well, personal. He’s not used to sharing her with others, much less letting others see into the hard-to-understand relationship they have. It makes him feel oddly exposed.

He shrugs in response, not exactly sure what else to say.

Charlie doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Living so far away, I just feel like I miss out on the finer details of her life, you know?” he says. “Sometimes I forget she’s really an FBI agent out there waving a gun around and solving crimes.”

“You disapprove?” Mulder asks, ready to defend her.

“Not at all,” Charlie is quick to assure. “I’m glad she has a partner to look out for her, though.”

For all the good that has done, Mulder thinks. Still, it’s nice to hear he’s got one Scully brother on his side, even if it is the one his partner doesn’t get to see that often.

“I saw the picture of that little girl you put in,” the younger man adds, dropping the volume of his voice a few decibels. “Bill tried to explain it to me, once. I don’t think I ever really grasped how much she would look like family.”

Mulder fidgets at the uncomfortable turn in the conversation. It really isn’t his place to talk about it. It’s his sister Charlie should be speaking to. But then, if this prevents Scully from having to face such unpleasant memories during her nice family Christmas, then he’d gladly endure whatever questions her brother might have.

“I don’t think your mother or brother really understood it either,” he says, trying his hardest not to sound accusing. “But in their defense, it really was an unusual situation.”

“Let me guess, Bill completely pretended it wasn’t happening,” Charlie says, casting a glance in his brother’s direction. “Figures. I’m sure he didn’t make it easy on Dana.”

Charlie must have hoarded the entire Scully family’s stockpile of emotional intelligence, that’s the conclusion Mulder is coming to. Finally someone besides him thinks to ask how Scully handled everything.

“What has Scu– What has Dana told you?” he asks, quickly correcting himself. He doesn’t want to be the one to reveal information Scully would rather keep private, so he thinks he ought to check.

“I know she can’t have children, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Charlie says, taking a swig from his bottle of beer. “She never did explain why, but that’s not really what matters, is it?”

“You’re a good brother,” Mulder states. 

No, it shouldn’t matter. And that’s exactly what had bothered him about Bill’s reaction so much. Who cares if you understand why or how things are happening? The important detail is that your loved one is suffering and you need to be there for them. It’s a relief to hear that Charlie seems to understand this, even if his brother doesn’t.

“It’s a long story,” he answers with a sigh, “but she loved Emily. Would have raised her if the courts had let her, and if—” He trails off, letting the words hang in the air.

“You were there, weren’t you?”

Mulder nods. “Flew out and crashed your family’s Christmas as soon as I knew what was going on.”

“What was she like?” he asks next.

“Dana?” Mulder asks, brows furrowed.

“No, Emily.”

Oh.

Mulder bites down on his lip, thinking back two years to the few days he spent with Scully and her mini-me.

“She was quiet,” he answers. Honestly, he barely heard her say a word. But her genetics were unmistakable, and not just in her appearance. “She was a lot like Dana.”

Charlie is silent for a moment, probably digesting all that he had learned in the last few minutes. It’s a heavy topic, and one Mulder himself doesn’t really like thinking about, if he can help it. This Christmas has already been leaps and bounds better in every way possible, and he wants to keep it that way.

“Thanks for being there for her,” Charlie says finally. “Thanks for taking care of her. She needs someone like you around.”

Mulder inexplicably feels himself tearing up at his words, and forces the emotion back down before he can give himself away. 

“We take care of each other,” he corrects, glancing again to his partner across the room. 

His vows from yesterday echo in his ears, and for the first time, he wishes her family had been there to hear them. The marriage may be a legal ploy for practical reasons, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t intend to keep his promises. He meant every word he had spoken, and now part of him wishes her family knew just how much.

-.-.-

Dana had forgotten how draining it could be to be surrounded by friends and family for hours on end. It's hard to believe there was a time when social situations like this invigorated her rather than drained her, but she remembers her university days well. 

Still, the company is pleasant, and it affords her the unique opportunity to see Mulder in a different, more relaxed setting, something she'd scarcely known she was missing all these years.

At the moment, he is crouched down in the hallway beside Matthew, each with a wind up toy car in hand that they've been racing back and forth for the last fifteen minutes or so.

For as much as she believed him when he told her he wanted to be a father, it never really felt real until this very moment.

The way he interacts with Matthew is so natural, despite the fact that the boy is the spawn of one Bill Scully, Jr. He talks to him in hushed, conspiratorial tones, grinning when the two-year-old's car reaches the self-proclaimed finish line before his does. It brings to mind Emily, and the way he had tried to make her laugh when he met her. The way he cradled her in his arms when they had to take her to the hospital, burning up with fever.

Her partner, who chases aliens for a living and has been held hostage in Siberia, gently holding a tiny, sick girl in a patterned nightgown… It sometimes still feels like a dream that it had happened at all, though that dream had quickly turned into a nightmare.

Mulder's eyes shine playfully now and she can see his mouth moving animatedly. He points to the other side of the wood-floored hallway and Matthew quickly crawls over there with his toy car, evidently changing up the parameters of the game they're playing.

“One, two, THREE!” Mulder counts aloud, and he and Matthew both wind up and release their cars at the same time, watching with delight as they crash together in the middle.

He will be a good father. A great one, even. She'd known it when she asked him for help with IVF, and she knows it even more now. Not once has she wondered if his difficult childhood would stand in the way of him and parenthood. If anything, it would make him better. She knows he'll do everything he possibly can to be the father he never had.

She only hopes she can provide him that opportunity, one way or another.

“So, Dana,” her mother’s friend Gloria speaks, coming up beside her to watch. “Any plans to settle down? I know your work keeps you busy these days, but you're not getting any younger, dear.” She finishes with a chuckle, taking a sip from her glass of eggnog, oblivious to how out of touch her question had been.

The words aren't meant with any malice, Dana knows, but still she wonders how these older women come to the conclusion that that's an acceptable question to ask. Even if she wasn't struggling with infertility and extraordinary life circumstances, that kind of inquiry always rubbed her the wrong way.

She forces her eyes away from Mulder and her nephew, focusing instead on Gloria.

“Oh, um,” she starts awkwardly, not exactly sure how to answer. “Not right now,” she says, even though it's becoming more of a lie with each passing day. Uncertain plans are just as good as no plans at all, she thinks in order to justify her omission. After all, if things don't pan out, she'll be back to square one.

Or almost square one, she mentally corrects herself. There's still the matter of being secretly married to her FBI partner.

Besides, they're keeping everything under wraps for now. If she's not telling her own mother, she's certainly not about to tell a woman she's only met a handful of times.

“Well, I know this young man at the YMCA– Brendan,” Gloria continues, heedless of Dana's discomfort. “He's a swim instructor. Veeeery handsome.”

Dana smiles politely, but otherwise is careful not to give any indication that she might be interested. An accidental blind date setup due to miscommunication is the last thing she needs right now, and honestly, the last thing she wants. She's happy with how things are with Mulder, even if they're not actually a couple. They're making plans for a future together, that's all that matters. Though the exact specifics of that future are hazy, one thing is certain: She won't be alone. Not anymore. 

And neither will he.

Looking around at the house full of people, love a palpable force flowing around them, she wonders again why they didn't do this sooner.

-.-.-

“Thanks, Mrs. Scully. This was really great,” Mulder says, carrying a bag loaded with containers of leftover food and desserts. He waves at the little boy behind Maggie, held up in the arms of his father at the door. “Bye Matt, thanks for hanging out with me.” Matthew is suitably worn out from all the excitement and playtime, which Dana is sure her brother can't begrudge Mulder for, but he still waves a tired goodbye. If anything, Bill should be thanking Mulder. The youngest Scully will be out like a light probably before they even leave the neighborhood.

“Bye, Mom,” Dana says, pressing a kiss to her mother's cheek and giving her one last hug goodbye. 

“Bye, sweetheart. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Merry Christmas!”

With a final glance over her shoulder, she and Mulder walk down the driveway to their car, alone for the first time in almost 24 hours.

“Your nephew is pretty cool, Scully. Did you know he thinks aliens have pet dinosaurs?” he says as they reach the vehicle, simultaneously opening the doors and sliding into their respective seats.

“How on earth did that come up, Mulder?” she asks, casting a doubtful glance to her left as she buckles.

“I didn't bring it up, he did!” he replies defensively, his smile only serving to make him seem less credible. “No, seriously!”

“I'd better not get a call from Bill asking what kind of stories you've been filling his son's head with.”

“Every little boy thinks about aliens and dinosaurs, Scully,” he says, laughing. “He offered up that piece of information unprompted, I swear!”

Scully chuckles, his earnest expression combined with his raised right hand somehow striking her as utterly ridiculous.

Our child will have no shortage of imagination with Mulder for a father, she thinks, and the thought causes her heart to clench in her chest.

“Just drive, Mulder,” she says, facing forward to conceal her smile.

He drives.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[armory-rasa]

Gambeson project: cutting out & fitting

Lol, apparently past-Gabriel made this pattern EXACTLY to fit 42" wide fabric. Good job, team.

However, I realized this would put the diamonds oriented horizontally instead of vertically -- which, like vertical stripes, tends to be more aesthetically pleasing on clothes. I would have preferred them vertical, but there wasn't a way to arrange the pattern pieces going the other direction, and I decided it's subtle enough not to worry about it.

Be advised that this fabric is REALLY thin though, for something quilted. Like, so thin that I'm not sure it's going to be functional at all for actual combat. o_O

But that's okay -- the whole reason I picked this color was because I had a vague idea that it could double as the gambeson layer in Eivor's very stupid ""brigandine"" armor in AC:Valhalla, if I ever decided to make that:

(Seriously, just. What is going on there.)

Anyway, I got all the pieces cut out, and then pinned them together to get an idea of the size, with straight pins along the back to mimic a seam, and safety pins along the sides to mimic lacing:

....Put it on, and then promptly took it off and cut 3" out of the back, because I was swimming in it. But better too big than too small.

Still a lot of overlap in the front, but doing better. I proceeded to change the angle of how the pieces meet at the shoulder (to make it less sharply sloped, because apparently I have more muscle there than I used to), and cut the armscythe in another half inch, so it's not tugging when I bring my arms forward.

An arming jacket that fits me pretty alright!

I might use the leftover fabric to add a yoke piece over the shoulders too, if I can figure out how, because that's where most of the weight of the armor is going to be hanging, so it's the part that needs padding the most.

Another consideration, since this is aiming to be functional not just decorative, is where the strain is going to be put on the garment, and thus which parts need to be reinforced. Basically, the ties/buckles/whatever along the front, and the lacing on the sides, are going to need something stronger than just one layer of that quilted fabric to anchor them in, or they're liable to tear right out.

Since I'd been planning from the start to hem this with bias tape (....ugh) instead of folding the hems over, that gives me the option to tuck something stronger in there, like a panel of 3~4 oz veg tan, which I think will work nicely. (Bias tape also means I can keep fiddling with the exact dimensions right up until the last minute.)

TIME TO SEW! or something, idk, if you wanted to watch someone competent at sewing, you'd follow them instead of me. 🤣

......

.......fuck, I don't have blue thread.

TIME FOR THE STORE!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

5 times I envisioned something that didn't exist and then I spent the time learning how to make it. AI can't do that.

Honestly I have more than this... But let's start with five because AI bros like to say but what about the people that can't do art it's IMPOSSIBLE to do it. BTW, I'm definitely not against others reblogging and adding to this list to demonstrate their non-AI art/creativity to prove that if one puts in the time and effort, one can learn and achieve a result one would like even if it takes a long time to do so.

Pay or play around and learn.

I drew this dress. I loved this dress. I wanted this dress, but at the time I drew this dress, I didn't know anything about patterning, I didn't sew all that well, I didn't have the materials, and honestly I didn't know if I could get the materials. I have no idea how to construct this dress at all.

At this point the most I'd really done in the way of sewing was to make a jiggly puff from scratch and I'd never made a dress before.

But I looked up the pattern of the dress, found the cloth, bought the cloth and then bought a patterning book, bought other patterns around it, bought tracing paper and then...

I made the dress. It took years to finally get the budget to get around it and it took months of work. to figure it all out. In total, to make the dress it took a year. To find the matching shoes, it took a lot of time.

But look at it. Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Look, when I first made it, it had flaws all over the place, but I'm still proud that I made it and from there I was able to do commissions and actually get comfortable with a sewing machine.

AI can't do that.

I wanted to make some jewelry that was floating around in my head. I knew about wire wrapping, but didn't know how to do it. But I practiced, slowly bought the materials, I sat down and I learned.

And...

upped my level to learn knotting, which my grandmother asked a necklace for. I gave this one to her and she said everyone around her loved it so much. But these beads were from her sister in law, and everyone complimented her on this necklace that now it's been passed to other people, becoming a family heirloom because I revived the necklace

Can AI produce those types of emotions?

During classes I would draw this pattern of flowers in the margins to keep alert ever since about middle school? I invented it myself, but when I made this dress (after the other one on top), I didn't know how to bead and I'd never done it before, but I sat down with youtube videos, bought the beads, and I drew it out and I spent a month doing it.

Now I know how to bead and I swear, I have this really deep satisfaction from knowing something I doodled in the margins of my notes all of the time has made it into a permanent item for me to share.

When can AI experience that?

I did not know how to quilt. I had to level up to get to this point. It's still not perfect, but now one of my relatives owns this quilt which glows in the dark, and it took literal YEARS AND YEARS to figure out how to get to this stage. I even had to buy MORE fabric in order to execute this quilt. I have to be honest that I've wanted to learn how to quilt since I was in Middle School.

I still wasn't that steady with a sewing machine, I still felt iffy about the whole thing and It took a ton of months to couch all of that glow in the dark yarn into place. It HURT a whole ton. But the result, it's magnificent and it's machine washable.

What AI can truly give the gift of time and effort like I did on this quilt?

I used to draw Hotaru like this. *sighs* I know you can't see it. But it was terrible. I have a worse one than this. lol

I paid attention, leveled up, learned some, took tutorials, and eventually classes and ended up drawing her like this.

I've done this with cooking, knitting, crocheting, and a lot of different crafts. It's not that I was brilliant the first time, it's that every time I failed and conquered, I gained more confidence every time to be more creative, learn more, be curious and explore. And I don't care what the AI bros say, AI cannot give you any of that.

This is a life skill I wish for everyone to have: The confidence to achieve no matter how difficult it looks like. I mean I spent a LONGGGGG ASS time trying to get my Korean name generator to work. But look, I achieved it. That heart, that merging of life experience is exactly what AI cannot achieve or give. So give it to yourself and your audience, that feeling of hope, and triumph over adversity.

I hope people reblog and tell their stories about how they learned their creativity too. Where they were, and how far they've come to show what people are missing out on.

[lillipad72]

The Annotated Anne of Green Gables ~~ a special rereading

a little intro on how i will be doing things for this: generally I will not be commenting much on the story itself but more on the notes in the book i find most interesting and expanding/analyzing them :)

CHAPTER I ~~ Mrs. Rachel Lynde is Surprised + the epigraph

"The good stars met in your horoscope,/Made you of spirit and fire and dew." -Browning

This line is the first bit of text given by Montgomery, as seen in the epigraph. It comes from the poem "Evelyn Hope," by Robert Browning. This poem is about an old man lamenting the death of sixteen-year-old Evelyn and his love for her, which she never experienced. While the context makes this poem more morbid, the lines themselves are beautiful and lyrical. I am trying to figure out why Montgomery chose these lines to introduce Anne. Was it some deeper meaning she found in the poem? Was it the image of Evelyn that these lines describe? Did it match her image of Anne? Or something else entirely? Let me know what you think! (A watercolor of Evelyn from 1908 is above, and here is the poem)

"Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies' eardrops and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of the old Cuthbert place; it was reputed to be an intricate, headlong brook in its earlier course through the woods, with dark secrets of pool and cascade."

The first line of the actual story (more like a complex sentence)! I just wanted to take a second to appreciate our scenery here and specifically talk about the "ladies' eardrops." When first reading, I knew this must be a plant, for it followed alders, but I knew nothing about it. The more common names include jewelweed and spotted touch-me-not. This plant is native to North America and is mostly found near creeks. It spreads very rapidly and does not need cross-pollination! Actually, in the State of Washington, it is considered a weed due to its fast reproduction. I think that including this plant with specifically that uncommon name for it is used to draw us into the almost fantastical world full of wonder that is Anne's soon-to-be home, Prince Edward Island. Because even if you do not know which plant the name refers to, the name shouts beauty and delicacy. I have even more thoughts about the symbolism of this plant but fear that I might be looking too much into something that might just be a passing reference. Oh and above is a photo of ladies' eardrops!

"Mrs. Rachel found abundant time to sit for hours at her kitchen window, knitting "cotton warp" quilts -- she had knitted sixteen of them, as Avonlea housekeepers were wont to tell in awed voices."

While Rachel Lynde must have 'abundant time,' she also must be extremely fast at knitting. "Cotton warp" refers to a kind of yarn used for weaving, and she was actually making a bedspread. With this type of yarn, knit squares were not a thing; instead, she would have used elaborate lacy patterns. After researching, I found a post in which a woman described how long her mother took to crochet a similar type of quilt. It took her mother approximately 300 to 400 hours to complete. And Rachel knit sixteen of them and is on her seventeenth at this point. No wonder the Avonlea housekeepers were in awe. But that is not the end of her quilts. She gives Anne six quilts while in college (five are just lent, though), Diana gets one for her wedding, and another two for Anne upon her own wedding (also not clear if any of these are newly knitted for the occasion or ones she already has). Also, our favorite person, Lucy Maud Montgomery, knit three of her own 'cotton warp' quilts in her lifetime. One of which is known as the 'Crazy Quilt,' and a photo is above!

This chapter didn't have too many notes that I found super interesting, for most of them had to do with geography, and it is a shorter chapter, so I hope you enjoyed my findings on these three topics!

next chapter

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3513

went to the doctor. she gave me antibiotics and told me to start taking the inhaler again.

rad.

got some advice and creative support on the quilt for my friend, which was really nice! my mom's been incredibly unhelpful saying how she would do it instead of accepting that this was going to happen how i wanted it to happen.

i had gotten so discouraged last night about the fabrics mom was pulling out and i hated how it looked and she was pushing me to use different fabrics and use a different design because she wasn't being helpful with what i wanted. but the people at the quilt store were so supportive in helping me realize the vision i had - WITH the original pattern i created, so i'm more than happy about that.

i'm super excited to sew it all together tomorrow. then i'll need a backing and a binding and batting and figure out how to fasten it together. and part of me wants to put lace in the edge because my favorite blankie as a little kid had lace in it. i liked it so much because it was soft and yellow and had lace. i still like it so much because of the same reasons. so i'll work with the colors and see if i can find a cotton lace for it. if i can, that is. if not, that's okay. i'll make something else with lace.

maybe a different quilt for a different friend's baby!

i am ambitious. for the other baby i'll probably do more traditional baby-esque fabrics. they'll be appreciative of it, i'm sure. i'll have to wash it before i give it to them, though, unless i just bring it straight to them from a quilter. that friend is allergic to cats, very much so, so having several cats around the fabric isn't exactly the best idea. i'll probably wash and dry the fabrics before i make it, if im totally honest. make sure when it does get washed it doesn't lose its shape.

count me in for making dozens of blankets for these two little babies i know who have the same first name.

i'm so happy.

i love making things. i'll make a crocheted one next, i think! since flannel is for the fall/winter.

anyway. i took a nap today after angrily washing pots for dinner. i didn't feel good and i was upset that the dishes hadn't been done - again - and so impeded my ability to make dinner.

which, for dinner, i made steak. and i fuckin KILLED it. not the cow, the cooking. first time to cook steak, did a great job. flavorful, properly cooked, cut like butter. moist inside despite being well-done. (while i am aware this is a culinary abomination, neither my sister or i can eat meat that is raw in any way. it makes us violently ill so we just. don't do that.)

but the nap and the steak occurred before the quilt cutting and pinning. the quilt is all ready to go for tomorrow. i'm hype.

also i am not going in to work tomorrow. the doctor told me to take it easy tomorrow while the antibiotic works into my system.

and because i'll be home it means i can actually get to joel's for game on time tomorrow night! that'll be nice.

and in the meantime, i have heartburn so i am gonna take some tums and try to sleep.

[i-cant-find-a-good-username]

do you have pictures of the quilts??? I wanna see (also it's so cool that you spent so much time and put so much love into a quilt for a friend who was having a hard time I love that)

You’ve activated my trap card! /silly

So! First off my quilt! (Because I have fewer pictures and less to say about it)

It’s really hard to get pictures of because it’s about 7’x7’ 😅 I finished in about two weeks with my machine. It’s really big and cozy and soft and at some point I’ll figure out what closet it’ll be stored in

But my FRIEND’S QUILT!

It’s about 4’x4.5’ish and I added up approximately how long things took and it was about 147 hours (which might be the low end) and took the course of 4 and a half months of near constant work for when I wasn’t busy at my actual job or mandatory socializing stuff. Hell, I worked on making hexagons in my car before my shift would start even.

No one has been able to escape talking to me since July without hearing about this quilt. Not even all of my tables that I serve have gotten away quilt-talk free lmao

I’d gotten sucked into the Quilting side of TikTok and kept seeing this same sort of hexagon quilt and I just had to try making it myself. It starts with you cutting out circles and the way you fold/tack down the points turns the circles into hexagons and you don’t have any raw edges of fabric to deal with. Then you whip stitch the edges of the hexagons together to eventually become the overall body of the quilt. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to do a pattern or have it be kinda random and try keeping colors from touching themselves too frequently but my wonderful super big brained friend @centrumlumina helped me figure out a daisy pattern that would repeat and use the maximum number of hexagons I had available (and then another friend also helped me pivot to an altered version of it once we realized somewhere near the beginning I was off my a single side but I was in too deep to totally seam rip everything and I am kissing both of their brains and I am eternally grateful)

She doesn’t know I was working on anything and it’s been torture keeping it quiet from her this whole time since I started (July 2nd)! I’m actually giving it to her later today (she was going through a move and I didn’t want to give her another thing to worry about packing right when I finished it late November). She’s very bright and pastel and flowery and I just really hope that whatever life throws at her next that this quilt can just help remind her that she’s worth the effort and that she’s very loved.

[lessapander]

Lots going on... but not right now.

I'm in that weird limbo where there's a lot of things that I need to do, want to do, and will soon do, but currently can't actually act on anything. So I'm sitting and twiddling my thumbs to myself, making lists and plans, and then chomping at the bit to get going already, come onnnnn!

Things that I have coming up that I need to figure out:

Curtains for the sewing room. I have sorted out the shelf and storage situation and need to figure out proper curtains to now protect things from UV damage since the window faces full sun most of the day. The blinds are already solid, but there's light that sneaks through on the sides, so I need something that can wrap-around and cover the edges.

What do I want to sell out of my wardrobe? Do I want to wait until my weight stabilises before I decide what to sell? I suspect I want to just ditch the majority of my Chinese indie items that aren't blouses. Most of them don't fit the style of where I want my wardrobe these days, and many of them just aren't very good quality compared to the rest of my items. Blouses are great, though. Long Live Dear Celine.

Some sort of dresser in the bedroom for my excessive number of dweeby T-shirts. Alternatively, pare down the collection (again) and get rid of a bunch, or finally make that bloody T-shirt quilt I always say I'm going to make one of these days.

Planes?! Trains?! Ferries?! My dad is going to come visit me for the first time ever and I need to figure out interstate transit for part of his trip, because he wants to go to a few places that just aren't accessible by car unless you really, really have a lot of time to spare (which we don't). Most of the trip is set already, but there are a few details I still need to work out, including pet-sitting during the times we're away.

Next round of piercings. My newest piercings are a bit pissy, so I want to wait until they're fully healed and no longer prone to fits of weeping and irritation, but I want to start thinking about when to have the next round done (October?) and what my final goal for that piercing's jewellery will be. I'm following a pattern so far, but do I want to change that pattern? If so, how? What size hoops? What kind of charm or decoration? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I want more holes in my head, let's go already! I got a message offering me 50% off to let an apprentice give me a few puncture wounds and it was tempting, let me tell you. It should not have been that tempting. hahahaha

[wonkysews]

Vest 2

the yardage & dress. the yardage was a beautiful cotton/wool from miss matatabi that i accidentally tortured in the washing machine. it looked even worse before i stretched it back out as much as i could. now it is a very interesting cotton/felted wool crinkle plaid. i liked the pockets on the dress and figured i could incorporate them.

I realised the dress was a trapeze cut so I took apart the panels, squared them off, and sewed most of them back together to make an on-grain (mostly... its linen and I'm not great at this) rectangle of fabric

i quilted the linen to some batting (just a few vertical lines - i didn't want to sew through the pockets or have a quilted 'look' to the linen side. we'll see how that pans out; i'm not planning on washing this beyond some spot cleaning so it shouuuuld be fine. i then laid the yardage on top and safety pinned the three layers together.

doubled up and patched together the pattern* so i could lay out the whole thing with as few seams as possible (just shoulder seams!) for this vest, I didn't have enough black linen for bias binding and none of my remnants looked good against both the yardage and linen to me. so i decided to try cutting the linen side with enough of an allowance to double fold over and sorta self bind the edges. this is stupid and doesnt work very well, but perfection is not my aim and the yardage is fucked up beyond belief anyway so what are a few more weird wrinkly bits? * This purl soho pattern, which i've modified heavily in length and shape, especially the front

basted the edges like so. i rolled with any folds/pleats needed to make the edge of the yardage fit into the linen layer neatly. i left the back neckline and recut it a couple of times to try to fix a fit issue (it helped a little but i think i need a redraft or darts to fix it properly)

i knew my sewing machine would not be able to evenly feed the crinkled yardage even with a walking foot, so i tried something new and cut off the shoulder seam allowance entirely and instead joined it with a strip of linen i wrapped around the entire seam that i would fell down on either side. i also left the hand basting in underneath to give it a little extra strength.

all basted. all i had to do from this point was make the ties and fell everything down! didn't take photos of the tie process but i just sewed a tube, used a loop turner to turn them inside out, folded one end in and hand stitched it together to close them off and hide the raw edges.

shoulder seam felled down.i'm not an amazing hand sewer but i'm getting better, especially thanks to resources like this one. when i got to felling down the parts where i wanted the ties, i tucked the ties in between the folded over linen layer and yardage, tacked them to the yardage & batting inside the seam allowance, and then continued felling down the linen over the ties.

finished vest! not pattern matched, you can see where i was more successful stretching the shrunken fabric back out, odd tension where the 'binding' fights the grain of the fabric... but i'm happy with it, especially the pockets. i'm glad to get some use out of my stupid mistake with the wool/cotton plaid yardage. i might pick stitch/ hand quilt some areas eventually but for now i'm gonna leave it.

[hobbit--punk]

I made some 18th Century underpinnings and wore them under semi-normal clothes to go out because fuck it, why not?

irOkay, so this started a while back with that one Bernadette Banner video about bringing back pockets as fashion. Watched it while I was trying to figure out how to restyle/resize a skirt that I loved, but was cheaply made and falling apart six months after I got it. And I knew that I wanted pockets, but couldn’t work out how to do that. 

Then I decided a while ago to make myself some 18th Century stays, pictures of which have been online before. I’ve written a whole rant on why I want stays before, and posted several blogposts about the history of stays. Not doing that here. When I made them, I decided to use some of the scrap fabric to make a pair of 18th Century pockets, the kind that you tie on under your skirts and access through holes in the outerwear. 

Here they are, freshly finished. They (and the stays) aren’t historically accurate, exactly. They were made with some scrap linen/cotton blend I had lying around, and bound in bias tape I made out of some teal quilting cotton. Because teal looked damned good with that unbleached linen/cotton. 

And here they are, tied on over my stays and chemise. I figured out a really good rubric as to how big a pocket I make should be: if I can’t fit a paperback copy of Dune into the pocket, I need to make them bigger. These? They can fit Don Quixote. 

Here they are once they’re on. 

You can’t wear stays against your skin, and I’ve got exactly one chemise made of cotton muslin. For now. There are a few more cut out and ready to be sewn up, because you have NO IDEA how comfortable this was. 

You can also see if you followed that link that I’ve shrunk a little bit in the last few months. If this were a bra, I’d be looking at a different size. As it is, I just lace it down a bit tighter and go on with my day. If I gain a bit, which happens, I’ll lace it a bit looser and do the same. I’ve got two more sets of stays planned out as well, because this shit’s more comfortable than any bra I’ve ever worn. Also: back support. So much back support. 

Adding my underpetticoat. Look at the slits at the hips, this is because I made it 18th Century style, I think it’s called “apron front?” basically the front is a drawstring you tie behind you, and the back is a drawstring you tie in front of you. The result is a skirt that expands or contracts with your body as you change size over the years.

It’s not even a “pattern,” per se. This skirt and the yellow one that’s following is literally just a bunch of rectangles sewn together with straight seams. My ancestresses didn’t have the money to waste lots of fabric on circle skirts, nor did they have the time to fiddle with weird seams. They had shit to do, much like I do now. 

Yeah, the yellow one’s made mostly the same way as the underpetticoat. Two drawstrings, slits in the side giving me epic pocket access. The chemise peeks out under the tee shirt, but honestly, no one gave a shit, least of all me. I’ll make the next ones with shorter sleeves. Or I’ll make the sleeves longer and just go with it. Dunno yet. 

This is what I wore to go to the salon, do grocery shopping, and go out to lunch with my husband. No one noticed a damned thing, and the linen and cotton reacted as such materials do with heat and sweat to turn the stays into a snugly laced, supportive, REFRIGERATOR held over my torso in the first days of a Korean summer. 

Tagging some friends for fun! @balkanradfem​, @thinnyhopper​, @iridessence​, @hobbitinthelibrary​

[badassindistress]

Floofy Shirt Sew-along - Step 0: Getting Started

I’m thinking we’ll start properly in August to give people the time to find fabric. For now we’ll do some measurements so we know how much fabric we need and get the preliminaries out of the way.

What you are definitely going to need:

Fabric

Thread

Needles

Fabric scissors

Pins

A measuring tape

3 buttons for the cuffs and the neck (or one button and cufflinks)

A ruler or stick you can use to draw the 1cm seam allowances

 What will make this project a lot easier:

Tailor’s chalk or other method to mark lines on your fabric

An iron and ironing board  - I would say this is a necessity but not everyone has one and you can make a shirt without, it will just be harder and won’t look as good.

A thimble - in the long run it will make you sew quicker and be better for your hands

A sewing machine (I am intending to handsew this because not everyone has a sewing machine, but if you do have access to one and want to be done quickly, do the long seams on a sewing machine and glory in the speed of modern technology)

A cutting mat, quilting ruler and rotary cutter – This thing is all squares and triangles and quilters have got squares and triangles figured out

If you’re used to inches, keep a converter handy because my brain is used to centimeters

How much fabric do I need?

If you’re going full period accuracy, you’re going to need about 240cm of fabric (if it’s 150cm wide), this is supposed to make a shirt long enough to use as underwear. If period accuracy is not your game (or thrift takes precedence, which is very period indeed), measure  the full length (back and front) from a tshirt and get something about 20 cms longer so it can properly be tucked into your waistband. For me, 160x150 will probably do the trick (for reference, I’m 1.72m)

Necessary measurements:

Desired full length of the shirt, 240cm if you want to go full floof

Neck circumference = measuring tape goes around the neck

Wrist width = measuring tape goes around the wrist

You don’t need to adapt the other pieces of this pattern to your own sizes, it’s basically one size is gloriously large on all (if your build is very large to begin with, you might want to add about 10cm more width to get the desired blousy effect, but if you’re slight you don’t need to make it smaller.

For the type of fabric I’d recommend cotton or linen for the historic feeling, but go with whatever brings you joy and isn’t stretchy. It needs to be light enough you can gather it up without it getting bulky and not terribly prone to fraying so you won’t go insane while sewing. Silk isn’t particularly historically accurate, but it would be amazing, so. Go with what is available and sparks joy. (Thin sheets or table cloths can definitely be used for this). Same with colours. I’m going for black, and white is perfect if you want to go swim in a pond á la Darcy, but there’s no rules that says it can’t be pink and flower infested.

tl:dr – procure 160-240x150cm of non-stretchy fabric of a lightness and colour that you would like to wear. Wash it, iron it and congratulate yourself on being super productive.

[imaginarydragonling]

korrasami and "didn't know they were dating" for the tropey outlines ^^

Trope: Didn't Know They Were Dating where both parties are oblivious.

Korra and Asami return from their months-long vacation from the spirit world.

Things are pretty quiet, rebuilding is going steadily and Korra wonders where she should head next. Maybe she should go pay her parents a visit?

Asami casually offers to let Korra stay at her place until she figures out what she wants to do next and Korra accepts. It will save her having to bother Tenzin and his family while being able to take her time planning her next move (planning. ha. Korra has changed so much since she first arrived in Republic city).

Korra accepts of course and it's easy to be roommates with Asami. They are friends and have only grown closer and understood each other better on their trip to the spirit world.

They both get along well and even though the routine has changed (breakfast gets served to them by Asami's servants instead of them eating out of cans around the campfire), the company hasn't and they both appreciate it.

They also start establishing a new routine: Asami is busy during the week managing her company and Korra finds that she is still needed in council meetings as the avatar.

They hang out with Mako and Bolin at night sometimes and go visit the air temple over the weekend.

Korra invites Asami to take an extended vacation and come with her to visit the south pole which Asami gladly accepts. Work has been crazy lately and they could both use a change of pace.

It's a few months later when they realize that Korra had been staying at Asami's place for months now and Korra should probably find her own place (Korra has decided to make Republic city her home base as she's got a circle of friends here and can still perform her duties as avatar).

They go apartment shopping together and it takes some time and some negotiation with landlords but they eventually find the perfect place.

Korra throws a house warming party and invites all their friends. They all attend and bring housewarming gifts. Even Korra's parents send her a gift.

It's at like the fifth gift when Korra notices an odd pattern: All the gifts are addressed to both her and Asami and some of them are very obviously "couple" gifts.

Korra: "Why do all these gifts have Asami's name on them as well? Am I supposed to share them with her?"

Asami, looking over: "Oh that quilted blanket is quite lovely but I think you should use it, Korra-dear. It will give your bedroom such a warm touch."

Bolin, visibly confused: "Why don't you just both use it when Asami stays over here?"

Korra: "Why would Asami stay here? I mean (you're welcome anytime, babe) but Asami has her own house?? It's not even that far away?"

Bolin: ... Aren't you two living together?

Korra: "No, that's why I got my own place??"

Bolin: "Are you taking it slow?"

Asami: "Taking what slow?"

Bolin: "...Your relationship?" *confused looks from Korra and Asami* "Like aren't you dating?" *more confused looks* "Aren't you girlfriends?"

Korra and Asami: "Her what?!"

*Mako facepalms*

*Meelo slips Ikki money who gleefully pockets it*

Thanks for the ask as always! 🥰

Send me a trope + character(s)/pairing and I will outline a ficlet for you!

[stuckwith-harry]

A/N: Listen, babes, I was straight up not planning on putting out fic this year, but a series of well-timed little accidents and a very sweet groupchat resulted in this flirty little guy. While I’m sorting out my organisational crisis over on Ao3, I’ll put it here, and now I will go and agonise over the 23 other writing projects on my desk, cool? Cool. I’ve no real content warnings, it’s only banter, although the banter is not what the kids might call family-friendly.

look at what a heart can do / i’m starting to get to you

Silence has begun to come easily.

They’ve opened the window over Ginny’s bed, and cool late-summer air comes spilling in like handfuls of water, moving through the loose shirt she’s slipped into. She’s sitting cross-legged on her mattress, her back to the window, her knees bumping into Harry’s legs, her fingers drumming on his knee in a slow, tipsy rhythm, lilting and lazy like the pitter-patter on her windowpane. Afterwards, she can’t say whether a few minutes or an hour passed this way, only that it was time spent simply sitting and breathing and shifting beside each other, exchanging glances like secret handshakes, knowing grins.

Harry is flipping through the Quidditch magazine that usually resides on Ginny’s nightstand, his thumb absent-mindedly scratching at his bottom lip, his bare back leaning against her headboard. His face is softer without his glasses – like she’s catching him asleep – and still covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Every once in a while, he turns the journal over to point something out to her, like –

“Look at this one.”

So Ginny leans over the open page and peers at the model he’s indicating. “D’you think it’s weird that they’ve got it listed as a Chaser broom?”, she asks quietly, meeting his eye. “Sure, it’s speedy, but look at the inertia, that’s a better fit for a –”

“Beater”, they say in unison, grinning, and settle back into silence. Outside, the night is complete and starlit, the rain showers are warm and brief, and time is passing at a languid pace, not in any hurry to end.

Ginny finally gives up on her novel after she makes it to the bottom of the page for the third time in a row without any of it sticking, resigning herself to the fact that her thoughts are elsewhere. More precisely, they’re stretched out next to her in a pair of boxershorts, squinting at a line-up of the most anticipated broomstick releases of September 1998.

She rests her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee, quietly looking over at him. His hair, she thinks. His hair is impossible.

He notices.

“What?”, he says softly, gazing back.

Ginny hums. “I have a question.”

Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Was tonight the first time you did … that?”, she asks.

He suddenly takes great interest in the pattern of Ginny’s quilt, picking at a piece of lint she’s pretty sure is imaginary. She thinks she can see a flush creeping up his neck, too.

“Which part?”, he asks, then, making a face: “Pretend I didn’t say that. The answer’s yes either way – yeah. Yes. I figured it was fairly obvious.”

“It wasn’t, actually”, Ginny says, “that’s why I was curious.”

This does nothing to lessen the way his face is heating up, but with the way he’s grinning to himself, she decides she needn’t feel too sorry for him. “I’m gonna … take that as a compliment, then.”

Ginny grins back. “Oh, you should. It is.”

He clears his throat, not quite meeting her eye. “Have … you?”

She shakes her head, shrugging.

“Huh.”

She squints, smile intact. “Surprised, are you?”

His face hovers in a place between trepidation and something that looks a little like bashfulness, but isn’t. It’s funny, she thinks, he should look bashful. Not very long ago, he would have, but now … she turns her head, searching his features. There’s newness in every slight movement of his mouth. In the intensity with which he looks at her.

“No – and it wouldn’t matter”, he starts, with that bout of sincerity he gets on occasion that makes Ginny weak in the knees. “You just, uhm …”

Ah, she thinks, there is it. Bashfulness in heaps.

“You were good at it”, he says, sounding breathless.,

“Well, thanks”, she says, feeling inexplicably warm. “So were you.”

He squints at her, then looks back at Broomsticks Monthly. “Alright, try not to sound too surprised.”

“I’m not surprised you’re good at it!”, she laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting to, ah – score a goal – the first time we did that.”

Harry peers up at her, the colour of his face roughly resembling their old Gryffindor Quidditch uniforms. Ginny wiggles an eyebrow.

“When would I ever have – who would I have done anything with?”

“You’re telling me you and Cho never reconnected in an abandoned broom closet after things went downhill?”

He seems simply stunned at the idea. “No. Definitely not.”

“It’s not a ridiculous assumption”, Ginny says, amused.

“Her and I only – come to think of it, I’m pretty sure we only kissed the one time. And she was – well, sad all the time, wasn’t she, and I was –”

“Seething all the time”, she says cheerfully. “Fair enough.”

He gazes back at her, visibly mulling something over.

“You and Dean never did anything?”

Ginny throws a pillow at him.

Harry catches.

“You needled me too!”

Which Ginny, unfortunately, cannot argue with.

“No, we really didn’t.” She watches his face for a reaction, for a hint of relief, or smugness maybe, but to his credit, there is none. “I think he wanted to, though.”

Harry makes a face.

“Alright, relax”, she grins. “I’d spare you the details, but there quite literally aren’t any.”

He slouches back, propped up on one elbow buried deep in her pillow, the deep orange glow from the lamp on her nightstand casting his face in soft shadows, in warm hues. Ginny continues to watch him. He’s squinting into Broomsticks Monthly again, but his eyes are not moving along the page, so she knows he noticed.

After a moment, he sighs.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

Ginny merely hums in response, and it dissolves into ripples of soft laughter at his expression. There it is again. That newness in his face.

“You … made it pretty easy.”

“Hm?”

“Your face”, he says finally, with a quiet rasp in his voice that tugs pleasantly at Ginny’s insides, “is … extremely readable. It wasn’t that hard to figure out what was … working for you.”

Ginny stares at him, stunned, and he at least has the good sense to look a little abashed.

“Your face is extremely readable”, she mutters.

Harry grins. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s a good thing.”

“No, I mean it”, she says, throwing her head back, peering down at him with a grin. “You were pretty readable too. Very transparent.”

“I’m just saying, it wasn’t all me.”

In the moment’s silence that follows, while they effortlessly reassemble their limbs, Ginny’s eyes come to linger on the long-abandoned camp bed on the floor beside her bed, whose only function now is to keep up the ruse for her parents’ sake. She grins: he’s been sleeping in her bed since he came to stay in her room instead of Ron’s.

They’ve been sleeping with each other for almost a week.

“You make that easy”, she tells him lightly. She makes a purposeless dog-ear in her book, shuffling around on her mattress, her body bumping into his with such ease she might as well have never known anything else.  “Maybe it’s not … entirely accidental. It’s easy with you.”

She hears his slow exhale, watches the way his grin softens into a smile. Even under the loose-fitting shirt, she feels herself growing warm, even though it falls off her shoulders like a circus tent, the shoulder seams comically misplaced on her upper arms.

It’s as good a moment as any to remember that the t-shirt is Harry’s, technically. It makes her feel naked in a wholly new way; only she realises she doesn’t mind. 

She lets out a fluttering breath. “Interesting. I’m usually the one making you blush.”

“Well”, he says softly, “it looks good on you.”

It’s unclear if he’s talking about his t-shirt or the colour of her face, and it doesn’t matter much, it makes warmth pool in Ginny’s belly all the same. For a moment there, she’s the girl with her elbow in the butter dish all over again – if nothing else, she can imagine their faces glowing in identical shades of pink, bright like the carnations growing in the flower boxes on the Burrow’s windowsills.

What never presents itself – what doesn’t come back – is the urge to hastily pull back into her shell, like a little snail prodded by an overzealous finger. So he continues to look, and she continues to let him, the fluttering in her belly light and pleasant like the first sip of a fizzy drink.

That much is new.

[sepedarodatiga]

The Snow Queen fairytale as a motif used in GoT/ASOIAF

First of all, how many fairytales and myths can GRRM fit into this story, seriously?? I know many have written well thought and well informed meta of various fairytale motives fit with ASOIAF/GoT, and I am just here adding into an already huge pile, but it bothers me, okay. I have to get it out there into the tumblr void. And this is not really a well thought and well informed meta (I’m not a folklore/literature expert, not to mention European folklore/literature), I’m just pointing my fingers into the patterns I saw fit. Also, I can’t count myself as ASOIAF book reader, I just watch the show. What I know about the books, I read it here in tumblr. 

But anyway, you might be surprised as to which character I saw fit as The Snow Queen in GoT

It’s Daenerys Targaryen.

I know I know... whaat? The Mother of Dragons, Bride of Fire as The Snow Queen? Get out of here, right...

But it’s a pun. It’s not The Snow Queen, it’s Jon Snow’s Queen, get it? Remember how Jon repeatedly saying “you’re my queen” to Dany during season 8? Yeah. Oh and Jon is Kay, while Sansa is Gerda. 

What made me realize that Dany is The Snow Queen is when I was reading my son the fairytale. In the version retold by Kate Friend, it describes The Snow Queen as beautiful and terrible. And I was like, huh, just like Dany, especially with the white hair and the all white costume in season 8. 

Daenerys Targaryen, beautiful and terrible.

And then of course the story went on describing how Kay becomes her prisoner and then I was like, well that’s like Jon Snow during season 8 too.... And then in Disney’s adaptation Frozen, Elsa has white hair with purple eyeshadow, while Anna (Gerda) has....red hair....which is like... Sansa Stark. Then I also remember the illustration on my son’s book which is by John Patience, that reminded me of the Iron Throne.

The Snow Queen illustration by John Patience. See how much alike this setting is with the Red Keep? Especially in Dany’s vision in HoTU when snow was falling.

So I went investigating, and shit... I mean obviously the sequencing was moved around, GRRM likes to subvert things, but my God!

Before we get into Jon Snow and his queen, I have to start with the other characters first. And I will be taking excerpt of the story from The Hans Christian Andersen Center website which I assume would be the most original one.

Gerda = Sansa Stark

Here is a description of Gerda’s power:  “No power that I could give could be as great as that which she already has. Don't you see how men and beasts are compelled to serve her, and how far she has come in the wide world since she started out in her naked feet? We mustn't tell her about this power. Strength lies in her heart, because she is such a sweet, innocent child.”

Furthermore, her connection with Kay are through roses (they have a window box full of roses) and a song that goes like this:  "Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale, There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail." Another variation of the song is: “The rose in the valley has flowers so sweet, and angels come down there the children to greet.” She saved Kay with her prayers, hugs, kisses, tears and her song and their reunion literally ended winter and brings spring. If that’s not Sansa Stark (and the jonsa reunion), then I don’t know what is.

Gerda made a journey to the North to find Kay and bring him back together with her to their home. Sansa did not meant to make a journey North to find Jon and bring him back home, but this is what happened anyway. The story even stressed on the fact that when they came back to their homes, they were no longer children but grown ups. On her quest Gerda offered her red shoes to the river to get information about Kay’s whereabouts but the red shoes were given back to her the first time. But she did it once again and the river set her on the path to find Kay. I’m not really sure but for Sansa it could be her betrothal to Joffrey that was then canceled but then she got married to Tyrion Lannister. Her red shoes is her name and her claim to the North.

Gerda then met an old woman who wanted to keep her and made her forget about Kay by keeping all the roses underground. The old woman’s place was beautiful. Here is an excerpt:  “Then Gerda was led into the flower garden. How fragrant and lovely it was! Every known flower of every season was there in full bloom. No picture book was ever so pretty and gay. Gerda jumped for joy, and played in the garden until the sun went down behind the tall cherry trees. Then she was tucked into a beautiful bed, under a red silk coverlet quilted with blue violets. There she slept, and there she dreamed as gloriously as any queen on her wedding day.” But then she saw a rose on the old woman’s hat and finally remembers her purpose of finding Kay. I would say that the old woman is Cersei Lannister who tried to make Sansa forget about her home and her innocence. Sansa was also saved from her clutch by roses (The Tyrells).

Then Gerda with information from a crow, met a Princess and Prince. She thought that the Prince might be Kay, but it turns out he was not. This might be Sansa’s vale arc and the Prince is either Petyr Baelish or Harry Hardyng. The Prince and Princess also gave provisions for Gerda’s journey to the North, so this may be that the KoTV helps Sansa getting Winterfell back. The crow, has a ladylove, another crow and they finally get married and live in the Princess’s castle though unfortunately the crow then died. The crow was a wild forest crow while his ladylove is a tame crow. These two crows could be genderbent into Sam Tarly and Gilly. Remember that Sam is mock as Jon’s ladylove by Alliser Thorne?

Next Gerda met a robber girl who sleeps with a knife and have plenty of pigeons. Yep, of course that is very much like Arya Stark (who sometimes is being referred to as “a girl”)

The pigeons told Gerda about Kay and The Snow Queen. The robber girl finally gave Gerda her reindeer called Bae for her journey to the North. The girl likes to tickle the reindeer’s neck with her knife. At the end of the story it is told that the robber girl then decided to leave her place and find adventure in the world. Very much like Arya’s ending.

Now about that reindeer Bae who helped Gerda to reach to Kay in The Snow Queen’s palace in the far North. In ASOIAF/GoT, we can connect Bae to Baelish. Make sense. Petyr Baelish helps Sansa get to North and Arya’s knife did end up in his neck. But also we can connect it to two foreshadowing of Sansa bearing Jon’s child. The first is more well-known: Bael the Bard. The second one I think is more hidden and I made a post about it quite long ago: Baelor. Is this far fetched? Maybe, but I’ll take it.

Kay = Jon (+ The Night King)

Kay and Gerda are neighbours and they share a garden (particularly a flower box full of roses). Their relationship, in the words of Hans Christian Andersen himself are: “These children were not brother and sister, but they loved each other just as much as if they had been.” So they are NOT brother and sister but love each other as such. While Jon and Sansa are also NOT brother and sister but was raised as such.

Then Kay got splinters of magic mirror stuck to his eyes and his heart. The mirror “made everything great and good that was reflected in it appear small and ugly, but which magnified all evil things until each blemish loomed large”. It made Kay hated all the roses, they look ugly now to his eyes and also made Kay loved the snow and the cold. Jon Snow at the beginning of the story was a cynical little boy because he was raised as a bastard. He wanted to leave Winterfell and sneered at the idea of having a family of his own because he felt that he can’t have them. So he went to the coldest place there is.

In the story, Kay plays with his sled, and then The Snow Queen came with her sled and Kay hooked his sled to hers. The Snow Queen first, covers Kay in a bearskin rug and gave Kay kisses. The first kiss “was colder than ice. He felt it right down to his heart, half of which was already an icy lump. He felt as if he were dying, but only for a moment. Then he felt quite comfortable, and no longer noticed the cold”. The second kiss makes Kay forgets about Gerda and their homes. The third kiss, The Snow Queen does not give him because it would be the kiss of death.

I argue that GRRM subvert this story. I think Jon Snow was already saved by Sansa before he met Dany. The splinters in his eyes and heart was already gone when he faced The Snow Queen. The reunion happened before he met Dany. The first two kisses also already happened: Jon Snow had died and came alive again, and he also forced to forget about his home and family while he was at the Night’s Watch. The bearskin rug which The Snow Queen used to cover Kay can allude to Jeor Mormont and/or Longclaw. 

Then Jon Snow met his queen finally, but instead of a hooking sleds.... it’s dragons. Jon Snow’s sled was his dragon Rhaegal which are hooked to Dany’s sled Drogon. But his eyes wasn’t blinded by the splinter and his heart were already warm. He knowingly and willingly follow the dragon to save his family.

And the third kiss of death that wasn’t given by The Snow Queen? Jon Snow will give it to his queen instead.

Now let’s go back a little bit. Kay was also given a puzzle from ice by The Snow Queen, and if he can solve it then he is free. He was supposed to spell the word “eternity” but he couldn’t figure it out with the shard in his eyes and heart. In GoT we know exactly who has got an shard in his heart.

The Night King. And so that is why he plays with puzzle in ice. He is struggling to form the one symbol that would set him free.

Bonuses

Other than those patterns, there are several interesting tidbits from the story that fits with ASOIAF. There is this one blog said that The Snow Queen story was inspired by another story called “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” which if you read it, it is essentially “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” (the bear is a white bear, by the way)

More bonuses here. When Gerda finally remembers to find Kay during her time in the old woman’s home because of the rose, different flowers gave her different stories even though none tells her about Kay.

This is the story from tiger lily:

"Do you hear the drum? Boom, boom! It was only two notes, always boom, boom! Hear the women wail. Hear the priests chant. The Hindoo woman in her long red robe stands on the funeral pyre. The flames rise around her and her dead husband, but the Hindoo woman is thinking of that living man in the crowd around them. She is thinking of him whose eyes are burning hotter than the flames-of him whose fiery glances have pierced her heart more deeply than these flames that soon will burn her body to ashes. Can the flame of the heart die in the flame of the funeral pyre?"

So GRRM didn’t take the sati ritual for Dany’s rites of passage as mother of dragons from just anywhere, but it is from this story.

Also, hear this story from hyacinth

"There were three sisters, quite transparent and very fair. One wore a red dress, the second wore a blue one, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand they danced in the clear moonlight, beside a calm lake. They were not elfin folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three coffins, in which lie the three sisters, glide out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hover about them like little flickering lights. Are the dancing sisters sleeping or are they dead? The fragrance of the flowers says they are dead, and the evening bell tolls for their funeral."

Of course this immediately bring to memory the quote of Jon Snow with Val: “The light of the half-moon turned Val’s honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. “The air tastes sweet.”” Well then, according to Hans Christian Andersen, that means death. There are three sisters here which could allude to the three queens at the almost end of GoT: Cersei Lannister (red), Sansa Stark (blue) and Daenerys Targaryen (white).

So those are my stab at it. I would be interested to hear if anyone’s take on it.

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Well, we’ve finally reached the big reveal. Ch. 13

"Aw, thanks, babe." She's having too much fun with this. Leaning down, she connects their lips one more time, twice for good measure.

Julia grabs her best friend's arm, a bright smile crossing her face. "Bertie, it's happening?!"

"Oh, I think it's already happened." She gives the pair a knowing glance, something telling her that this development isn't so new.

The agent pulls back from her fiancé’s lips, a thrill running through her body when she’s met with a smirk, yeah, they’re both enjoying this way too much. Soon the smirks turn into laughter, her forehead finding his chest as they enjoy this moment of stupefaction that their know it all mothers are consumed by. 

“Why are you laughing?” Roberta quizzically looks at the couple whose still laid out in the snow and back to her best friend whose dream filled gaze is no help to her at all. 

Standing up from her straddled position on her partner’s waist, Kensi steps back, reaching for his hand, becoming an anchor for him to get up out of the deep snow. “We know what you two have been doing for the past 20 years.”

Julia nervously bites her lip, her eyes now looking at anything but the accusatory eyes of her daughter and pseudo son. “Whatever do you mean?”

Shaking his head, the younger blonde wraps his arm around his best friend, pulling her into his side. “Fess up or we’re eloping.”

Julia shakes her head, doing a double take as Marty’s words wash over her. “You’re-“

A hopefulness fills the older blonde’s being as she looks to Julia, both trying to not get ahead of themselves. “Wait, what’s going on?”

Pulling off her glove, Kensi reveals her left hand, a certain finger not bare as it was the last time the older women saw it. “We’re engaged.”

“So soon?” Julia elbows her best friend, telling her to stop with the dumb questions. They don’t need to plant any questioning doubt in the kids’ heads and have to start this whole process over again. 

He places a kiss to the top of her head, the chill of the air around them is no match for the scent of lavender that envelopes his nostrils. “We’ve been best friends for over 20 years and dating for 3 months.”

Tilting her head back, the brunette’s mismatched orbs find those cerulean blues that she loves so much. All the emotions swirling in their eyes, conveying everything they feel and love for the other. “We don’t need anymore lost time.”

“I’ve got to tell your father!” The smile that’s plastered to the older brunette’s face is comparable to an excited golden retriever. 

“Oh, about that.” Marty stops his pseudo mother and now soon to be mother-in-law from taking off in a full on sprint to the cabin.

She turns back around, a look of confusion set in her features. Great, Bertie, you already made them change their minds. “What?”

The detective grimaces knowing his fiancée’s not gonna appreciate him keeping something from her. “He may already know.”

Kensi’s hand finds her fiancé’s bicep, swating his arm in surprise that he would keep something like this from her. She’s not really surprised though that her motormouth partner couldn’t keep their news from her dad. “Marty!”

“I didn’t tell him, he just figured it out.” He shrugs, trying to look as innocent as possible.

••••

They feel the two pair of eyes on them constantly. Really they should’ve expected this from the beginning, every once and awhile the pair will share a kiss just to see the two older women’s reactions. At first it was kinda hilarious because whenever Marty’s lips met Kensi’s one or both of their mothers would be right there, squealing in excitement. Now, it’s kinda getting annoying. Not the kissing each other part, no, that will definitely never get old, but their mothers watching their every move…yeah, that’s not fun. 

It’s pretty much expected as they step out of their room on Christmas morning that both Julia and Roberta are right there to greet them in excitement. The thing that catches them off guard though is when presents are being opened and the two have giddy smiles on their faces as they thrust a box towards the partners. 

“Open ours next!” Roberta states as her eyes widen in anticipation. 

“Who’s it for?” Marty asks, brow furrowed in question.

“Both of you!” Julia exclaims enthusiastically bouncing up and down where she sits on the couch, jostling her husband in the process. 

Kensi’s brow furrows as she shares a look with her fiancé. A little bit of dread filling her being, scared to what the box could possible contain. Her mind going into overdrive thinking about a photoshopped picture of what their future child will look like or something worse like a scrapbook of their entire future planned out. “Both?”

“Just open it.” Umberto finally makes himself known, thankful that after today he won’t have to hear about this secret gift for the rest of his life. 

Slowly they each take a side, freeing the lid from the box, revealing a patterned quilt of some sort. “A blanket?”

“It’s a baby making blanket.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Unperturbed by her pseudo daughter’s look of confused shock, Roberta feels the need to further explain. “We read that if you were to create a quilt and shove it full of the couple’s baby clothes then it would bring you good luck when trying to conceive.”

“But you two didn’t even know we were together until a few days ago.” The detective states.

A knowing smile crosses Donald’s face. “Oh, we knew it was going to happen eventually.”

“How were you so sure?” The agent looks to her father but can feel the rest of the adults’ knowing eyes on her. 

“Lets see, there was Marty’s prom-“ The former marine states.

“And then Kensi’s.” Roberta’s fiancé finishes. 

Marty shakes his head in confusion at the swarthy man’s interjection. “Umberto, you weren’t even there.”

“Ah, but I saw the pictures, papi.” A grin curls at the corner off his lips as he leans back against the chair. 

Julia nods in agreement when she remembers a key piece of information that no one’s talked about since the day it happened. “Then there was the fact that Marty got drunk and cried in your father’s arms when you and Jack got engaged.”

The young blonde feels his body run cold. Not because of his supposed confession but the actions that might have followed. He’s not surprised that he showed up to talk to the man he’s always seen as a father, its just the not remembering part that has him confused. “I-I did?”

“Yeah, you were pretty wasted that night, son.” The marine interjects. 

“Huh, so that’s why I woke up in your old room that morning.”

“Yep. I was about to head to bed when I heard sobbing from the room. Opened the door and there you were…wearing one of her dresses, clutching a picture of you two and crying.” 

“Wait, what?!”

Donald bites back a laugh as the blush rises to Marty’s cheeks. “I’m just messing with you. No, you showed up at the front door and we talked, you told me that you always thought that you’d be the one proposing to her. I was trying to take you to your old room when you stumbled into Kensi’s and face-planted on the bed.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Roberta exclaims. “One night when I was on Kensi duty after asshat left and she may have gotten into the wine…anyway, about 2 bottles later while we were watching Titanic for the 100th time, she said she felt like she was Rose and Marty was Jack, they were destined to be together but life had other plans.”

Kensi’s jaw drops in shock as she turns to her fiancé and then back to her soon to be mother-in-law. “I-I said that?”

“Yeah, and then you passed out, started doing that snort snore that always brings a smile to his face.”

Shaking her head in denial, she couldn’t’ve possible told anyone. “No, I-I never-“

“Believe me, I was just as shocked as you are now. I mean I had always hoped you two would quit beating around the damn bush.“

Marty’s eyes find his fiancée’s as they share a look of confusion and awe. His lips find hers as the new realizations wash over them. Everything makes sense now. Why after her engagement to Jack their parents started pushing them more, making these tiny decisions that would leave the pair alone…saying these little things that would stay in the back of their minds. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She places another kiss to his lips before he pulls them back against the couch, proudly throwing the blanket over their bodies. 

The former marine huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He honestly doesn’t know how these kids were so blind considering everything they’ve been through over the years. “You two really had no idea, did you.”

••••

It took a little over a week, but the childhood best friends are finally left alone on their own accord as their parents head out to the village for a New Year’s Eve party. To say he’s been dreaming about this for forever would be a bit of an understatement. There’s just something just so special about this place and what it means to them, frankly every time they make love is special, but this cabin during their favorite time of year…its the fantasy of all fantasies for him. 

Now here they are, sitting in front of the roaring fire with a pile of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers at their disposal. More so Kensi’s than his. He’s content just watching her, watching her devour her favorite camping treat as the snow falls outside and she sends him a chocolatey grin. He is one lucky bastard.  

His eyes follow her as she takes a final bite of her most recent s’more. There’s more chocolate on her fingers than there is on her lips, which makes it an easy decision for him as he grabs hold of her hand, his eyes fixated on her finger as he brings it towards his lips.

Her breath catches as he looks up from under his eyelashes and envelops her coated finger with his mouth. If she weren’t already sitting down, she’d be laid out on the floor as her legs turn to jelly. The moan that escapes her lips is one that often leaves her when her best friend’s involved. 

He can’t take it much longer before his lips are on hers, and he’s leaning forward, bringing them both to the ground as a moan escapes his lip. “Mmm. You have no idea how longs I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“Sophomore year of high school.”

“Okay, so maybe you do know.” His lips continue their ministrations against the base of her neck, earning him a glorious moan. 

“Marty?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Stop talking.”

He pulls back from his onslaught of kisses, his eyes finding hers. “If I had a dollar-“

Shaking her head, the brunette leans up and nips playfully at his bottom lip. “What did I just say?”

“Oooh, is Mistress Kensi getting angry? She gonna spank me?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just go finish myself in a warm bath.” She goes to push him off of her but he begins to envelope her entire body with his. 

“No! No! No! Shutting up! Shutting up!”

“That’s what I thought.” Her fingers thread through his golden locks as their eyes darken with an intensity that neither of them has ever known. “Now make love to me dammit.”

A little while later as they lay sated, wrapped up in their baby making blanket in front of the fire, she hums in contentment. “I still can’t get over it.” 

“I know, I’m pretty fantastic.”

She playfully nips at his ear earning her a moan. “I’m talking about how everyone but us knew that we were crazy about each other.”

He turns his head, their lips but a breath apart. “Oh, we knew. It just took a little liquid courage for our subconscious minds to realize it. And then obviously running into each other after being apart without contact in months for the first time in our lives gave us the little push we needed. Not to mention our over baring mothers continuously planting these little seeds in our head probably helped too.”

“I’m glad we finally came to our senses.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t go skinny dipping with me in the hot tub.” She places a quick kiss to his lips before hopping up and walking towards the back deck.

His eyes go wide in excitement as he follows her lead and chases after her. “Oooh, we can make our own bubbles.”

The agent abruptly stops at his words, spinning around with a look of disgust. “Ew.”

He winces, shaking his head. Way to ruing the moment, Marty. “Yeah, I heard it.”