#will i get circular needles? eventually!

[curieincali]

I always wanted to learn to knit so I made this "Learning Scarf" to get the hang of the different types of stitches - cable-knit, rib, double stockinette, garter lace, increasing & decreasing... the result is something that cannot really be used for anything :P

[whumpsoda]

I have this scene of Marshall deeply enthralled but still remaining defiantly quiet until eventually a Dr starts talking to him like he’s a scared child and a part of him opens up

Like “close your eyes if you don’t want to see the needle, love” or just explaining what everything they’re doing to him like “this won’t hurt you, see? you wanna touch it?”

he does so, and eventually once or twice asks a distant “what is thaaat?”

As of now this is not canon to the story, just a fun little extra :3

cw: vampire whumpers, multiple whumpers, vampire whumpers, hypnosis, hypnotized whumpee

——————

Marshall blinked, gradual and slow, the world blurring around him. He frowned hard, slouched down in his seat upon the table with his arms crossed like an irritated child. 

Seated beside him, Evangile rubbed her thumb over the skin of his shoulder in sweet, soft, circular motions, accompanied by the subduing dizziness of enthrallment. She ever so often supplied little whispers of calming, hypnotic nature, ones that were working toward quelling his ever present temper.

“It’s just a regular old shot, okay my dear? Nothing to be afraid of.” She gave him an unwelcomed scratch below the chin, Marshall’s muscles much too weary under the weight of enthrallment to escape her touch.

“Shh… shot…?” Even through the heaviest weight of a daze he recalled not wanting to go to another new doctor - or any doctor at all for that matter - but a shot? The fact only made the tense in his stomach churn worse.

“Yes, a shot.” Her gaze was fixed on the clock, watching and waiting for their appointment to begin. “It’ll be so quick and easy, you won’t even feel it.”

“Hmph.” He dug deeper into his seat, his expression of displeasure deepening.

“Well hello there!” The door swung wide open, the frame of a tall and lanky doctor striding in. They walked right up to Marshall, flashing a fang toothed smile, prompting him to take his sluggish limbs and shift away from them as much as he could. “A new thrall of yours, I presume?”

“You could say that.” Evangeline returned their grin.

With bright and excited energy their focus popped back to Marshall, spinning the thrall’s head in circles. “You can call me Dr. Belle, I’ll be taking care of you today. And your name is?”

He was already well aware his tongue didn’t work well under enthrallment, slow and weighted that turned his words to slurred mush. “Muh… mmm… Mar… shall…”

“A lovely name!” They exclaimed, rummaging through the tools they had brought along with them. “Now, I’ll go nice and slow for you okay? I can tell you’re a bit closed off, and I understand completely. I promise to tell you just what I’m doing, understood?”

Marshall nodded, studying the plate of mysterious tools he’d never become familiar with.

“Here, first I’ll wipe off the area so it’s nice and clean, okay?” They brought along in their fingers a white blob he failed to recognize, and Marshall promptly recoiled just a smidge.

“Wha’s thaaat…?” He pointed, an expression of innocent fear with a tinge of curiosity creeping over his face. 

“Just a wipe. Would you like to touch it first? It won’t hurt you, it just might be a bit chilly.” Marshall’s face reddened, shaking his head as he blushed with embarrassment. How was he so stupid?

Marshall sat quiet and calmly as the doctor cleaned off his skin, just until a jar sat across the room caught his eye. “That… is… ‘s that a lolli… pop…?” He gestured toward it, eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

“Why, yes it is! I give them to my best patients. All the good thralls get one.” 

“What… about meee…?”

Doctor Belle booped his nose gingerly, a kind gesture that sent his mind reeling. “I guess we’ll have to see how well you do, don’t we? If you’re a good boy I guarantee you’ll be deserving of one.”

“Oh- okay. Okay.”

“Now, I’m going to do the shot, alright? It’ll only hurt for a second, just a little pinch, like this.” They held his skin tight between two fingers, just for a second, mimicking the feeling of the aforementioned shot. “Is that okay?”

“Y- yes. Mhm.” Marshall knew he’d been through many before in his lifetime, but in such a state a foreign kind of wariness was seeping through him. “Can… can you count…?”

“Oh, of course. Ready?” Marshall nodded, turning away drowsily to look at Evangeline, whose vampiric aura was tenderly strengthening its hold over his mind. “Close your eyes if you don’t want to see the needle, love. Now, one, two, three.”

Marshall sipped in a filling, woozy breath.

“Oh, how wonderful! Practically no squirming, and none of that terrible screaming some of my other clients enjoy. Such a good boy you are.” Marshall blinked in surprise as the vampire patted his head, barely having felt any sort of affliction at all. His head swam with the two vampire’s mixture of hypnotic bliss, a small smile forming over his lips.

“You should see him out of enthrallment.” Evangeline remarked. 

“What’s that I hear? Are you naughty in your normal state?” Doctor Belle placed their hands on their hips in a disapproving motion, and Marshall quickly and lazily shook his head.

“N- no! No! ‘M… ‘m a good boy…!”

“Well you were very good for me.” They skipped over to one side of the room, picking up the jar and returning to flaunt it in front of Marshall. “Which flavor do you like? Watermelon? Bubblegum? Cotton candy?”

“Cottonnnn… candyyyy…” he slurred, ensorcelled happiness clogging up his brain as he popped the candy into his mouth. “Thank youuuu…”

“You’re very welcome.” They said, with one more pleasurable pet to the head.

——————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @justletmereadmywhump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @thelazywitchphotographer @whumpin-on-a-prayer

@legokiwi

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[macolethings]

The Woods Are My Home

Summary: Lexa has spent months planning the perfect weekend camping getaway so she can propose to Clarke at sunset on a cliffside. But, just like her life, the universe seems to have other plans, and Lexa realizes that perfection cannot be planned.

Continue the One Shot below or Read here or on ao3

- - - - - - -

Lexa had always loved the woods. It was the mix of the petrichor and pine smells, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, the calming colors, and the serenity of it all. Today, she was hoping to add “beautiful memories” to that list, if she could just get this damn tire changed.

“Do you need help, stud?” Clarke asked.

Lexa stood on the crow bar, attempting to loosen the lug nuts that were keeping the blown tire stuck on the truck. “I don’t know what monster tightened this so much, but it isn’t budging.” She huffed as she gave a small hop to add some extra weight to it, eventually knocking it loose. “Finally,” she said before looking up to the blue eyes she loved. “I got it, Clarke. Don’t worry, you’re supposed to be relaxing this weekend.”

“We’re supposed to be relaxing, this weekend, if I recall correctly,” she corrected. “Come on, let me help,” Clarke offered one final time.

Lexa gave in, asking her to roll the spare over, and the two of them were eventually on the road again. It took a few more hours before they finally reached a secluded site off a Forest Road. The roads were not maintained and required a high clearance vehicle. Lexa knew the roads from her job as a volunteer for the Polis Search and Rescue Team. She taught the specialized skills required for the job to those in Arkadia and other departments across the country after being medically discharged from her job as an Air Force Pararescue Jumper (PJ).

The site was perfect. Soft pine needles cushioned the small circular clearing. A few trees gave cover in case the 17% chance of rain decided to surprise them. And the sparsity of the trees allowed front row seating to the night sky. As she stepped out of the car, she could smell the fresh pine as the sun heated it, releasing the glorious scent. She took a deep breath, settling herself from the bad start to her perfectly planned trip and mentally preparing herself for what could be the biggest moment of her life thus far.

“You alright?” She felt her favorite pair of arms wrap around her from behind and place a kiss on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly, she gave a quick peck to Clarke’s forehead and smiled. “Of course, I am. I’m in my favorite place in the world, with my favorite person in the world. There isn’t much that could make this better.”

“What about your favorite beer as we sit by the creek for just a bit before setting up,” Clarke suggested, giving her one more kiss before stepping away to start grab drinks.

“You know me so well,” Lexa said in a mockingly dreamy tone as she placed her hands over her heart. “How’d a woman like me get so lucky?” she joked.

The creek had been rejuvenating. The cool water ran over their feet as they sat on the bank, holding hands, and drinking their beers. Clarke tried to pry details out of Lexa about the hike they were going on the next day, but Lexa was adamant about keeping it a secret. “I told you how I found it. That’s all I’m telling you.”

The remainder of the evening passed quickly. Between having to wait till after work to start the drive and losing time to the blown tire, there wasn’t much time to enjoy their setup. Although they did make sure to stay up by the fire for a while to just stare at the stars while in each other’s presence.

- - - -

A thunderous boom cracked from the west as they finished up breakfast late the next morning. “Of course, you would,” Lexa internally scolded the universe. She knew there was a small chance of rain, minuscule some would say, but in all her planning there had been no mention of thunderstorms. Rain, they could handle, even hike in if necessary to reach the cliffside in time. But Lexa would not risk their lives with lightning.

Not wanting to give away her disappointment in having something else ruin this special weekend, she settled her face before turning towards Clarke and standing. “We should go hang out in the truck until the thunderstorm passes.” She helped Clarke out of her seat and the two of them did a quick grab of the chairs, coffee, and trash before jumping into the truck. The huff she let out as she settled into her seat must have been louder than anticipated. A tender hand came and rested on face, a soft thumb stroking the side of her face.

“Hey baby,” Clarke whispered, calling to her. “I’m sorry our trip out here hasn’t started out so well,” she commented. “I know how much you were looking forward to getting away from life for a few days and just be.” Lexa hummed and nodded, letting Clarke know she heard her.

“Once this goes away,” Clarke continued, “we’ll start our hike.” She pulled her hand from Lexa’s face and reached into the glove box, pulling out the travel Cribbage set Lexa kept in the car.

“Until then, we might as well kill some time.” She waggled the set at Lexa, smiling. “It’s what it’s here for, right?”

The game was a good idea. Not only did it take Lexa’s mind off the storm, it also cheered her up. Playing games was one of the things her and Clarke loved to do together. When she was deployed, they would sometimes play Yahtzee together. Each had their own set and they’d play over Facetime. When together, Cribbage was their go to game.

They started playing the game when Lexa was stuck in the hospital after her helicopter had been attacked during a rescue gone wrong. She had been shot in the shoulder, and broke one of her legs jumping out of the it before it crashed down. The doctors were worried about infections due to the time she was stuck in the field, as well as the humid, sweat drenching terrain they had been stuck in. Lexa, active by nature, was going stir crazy laying in the hospital. Her wonderful girlfriend, her Clarke, had tried so hard to make sure she didn’t feel alone or bored. That’s when the suggestion of games came about, and thus was born their Cribbage addiction.

Three games and a short nap later, the clouds had departed and the sun was shining. It was as if the universe realized it had wronged them and was gifting a peace offering to Lexa. Trying hard to put the past events behind her, she prepped her backpack for the trip. Blanket, check. First aid kit, check. Water, check. Candles, check. Mini champagnes, check. And most importantly, ring, check. She opened the crushed blue velvet box to look at the ring one last time. It was a simple, white gold ring, with small diamonds inlaid into the band, and a small, raised, round diamond in the center. Clarke had mentioned long ago that she had no want for a large ring; she didn’t want it to get in the way of work or life. So, Lexa went with simple, small, but elegant.

Clarke popped her head into the tent, Lexa quickly shutting and palming the box in her fist. “You ready to go, Lex? I’ve got the food, my water, sweatshirts, and my first aid kit. Anything else I need?” she inquired.

Lexa shook her head and placed the ring back into her bag. “I’m all good.”

The hike started out great. The path was surrounded by the giant trees she loved, yet the rays from the sun were still able to sneak their way through the breaks in the canopy. Birds had come out of hiding, chirping away and playing in the water. Lexa’s hand was entwined with Clarke’s, the two of them enjoying the quiet walk and each other’s company. Quick glances and small smiles were exchanged as they climbed their way over the gravely terrain.

The storm had been more about lightning and thunder than rain, and the gravel made for easy walking. They were almost half way to the spot and making good time. Lexa would have to rearrange her plan slightly, but the most important part was still in place. By the time the sunset was over, she would hopefully be sipping champagne with her fiancé. A loud yelp brought her out of her thoughts. She turned around to watch Clarke struggle on a random patch of slippery clay and completely lose her footing.

She rushed towards her. “Shit,” Lexa bellowed, kneeling next to her. “Are you alright, Clarke?” She looked down, noting the woman grabbing at her ankle and the pain radiating over her face.

Lexa slowly lifted Clarke’s hands away, “let me take a look at it, baby.” Clarke nodded and gave Lexa free reign; she knew she was in great hands.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Lexa said after careful observation. “It’s swollen, but there’s no sign of a break.” Lexa’s face showed only concern. Her proposal plans were definitely off now, but she was more worried about her love being in pain. “I’m going to press a little bit to see if it can take any weight.” She gave it a slight push, intently watching Clarke’s face for any sign of pain. A quick grimace told Lexa that Clarke should not be walking back down.

“I’m sorry, Lexa.” She heard Clarke say through gritted teeth.

“Please, Clarke. I’m sorry this happened to you.” She tried to give her an assuring smile but failed. “Let’s get this splinted and wrapped so we can get you back down to camp.” She left no room for argument.

Between the two of them, Clarke having been a paramedic for a few years, the leg was immobilized and they were ready to make their way back down the path. “I’m going to carry you down on my back,” Lexa told Clarke.

“Lexa, I’m not going to do that. It’s not good for your leg and you could slip with me throwing your balance off” Clarke argued.

“It’ll be fine, Clarke. We just started on the upward slope not long ago.” She rolled her eyes. “Plus, I’m cleared for rescues. Let me rescue you,” she pleaded. Lexa felt safter knowing most of the path down was embedded with gravel sized rock, allowing for great traction.

Lexa knew Clarke was fully aware there weren’t many options. It was either be carried, throw her arm over Lexa’s shoulder and hobble down together, or stay put. Finally, Lexa heard Clarke groan. “Fine.” Lexa smiled, lifted her carefully, and got Clarke settled on her back.

- - - - -

Thanks to her job, Lexa was extremely fit. She had grown up playing sports, one being trail running. Her fitness level exploded when she became a PJ. The career field had been dominated by men for decades. When she started the pipeline to become a PJ, the Air Force had just started giving women the chance to attempt to join the elite force. The first woman through, Indra Groves, had finished fourth in her class and inspired Lexa to become a PJ herself. A fellow teammate from high school, Anya, had graduated second in her class from PJ School. When Anya found out Lexa was going attempting to become a PJ, she offered her any help she could so Lexa could finish at the top of her class. Which she did, with Anya and Clarke’s help.

That life had all came crashing down, along with their helicopter. They lost two of their crew that day. The pilot and co-pilot gave their lives holding onto the controls as long as possible, allowing the others a chance to bail. Anya, Lincoln, Lexa, and Roan had all made it out alive, but very much worse for wear.

Lexa’s leg started to ache shortly before arriving to their campsite. She didn’t lie to Clarke; she had been cleared for rescue missions. But she left out the part where the doc said it could still take a toll on her body and that she needed to weigh every rescue with the potential for days of pain as she recovered. Lexa had listened, but she would always put Clarke first.

Together, the two sat Clarke down into the tent as darkness started to cover the skies. Lexa grunted as she knelt down, causing Clarke to raise her eyebrow as she raked her eyes over Lexa’s body. “How’s your leg doing, Commander?” Crap. That nickname had been given to her by Anya after Lexa had become a bit too commanding on their first mission, especially considering she was the newest to the team. Clarke used the name sparingly, and normally as a tease, which meant Clarke was onto her.

Lexa could try to lie, but she didn’t want to. Not only that, but just like Clarke could read her body, she could also read all her subtle expressions. There was no way out of this. “Hurts,” she stated, nonchalantly.

“Uh-huh.” Clarke rolled her eyes. Lexa knew that look. She was in trouble. Clarke must have been able to see her distress because she let it go. But Lexa could no longer let it go.

“Let’s get your leg propped up on these,” she instructed while grabbing their pillows. “She reached into her bag, grabbed the ice pack, and activated it with a quick crack. “If you’ll be alright for 10 minutes, I need to clear my head.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Clarke confirmed. “It’s been a while since my paramedic days, but I still remember the basics.” She winked at Lexa. “Go. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Lexa felt bad leaving, but she needed to pull herself together, and to do that she needed to let these feelings settle over her so she could deal with them head on. Lexa knew that no life was perfect, but she thought that her dues had been paid. Yes, her life was good. She loved her job, had great friends, and had found the love of her life. But it had in no way been perfect, personally, career wise, or in her relationship with Clarke. She traipsed through the woods as she thought back on her life with Clarke, and how they got to this point.

She had met Clarke while training in Arkadia to become a PJ. After making it through all the military training and testing, she had to learn how to save lives. They were taught to manage trauma patients prior to evacuation and provide emergency medical treatment. They practiced in simulated life or death situations, and were required to do an extensive number of hours as a paramedic in the city. On one of her first nights, she was dumbstruck by a beautiful, sarcastic, and wickedly smart woman who commanded the paramedic team. She had introduced herself as Clarke, to which Lexa’s dumbass could only respond with, “I was expecting a dude.”

Never had she felt so stupid. She avoided the team as much as possible that night, keeping to herself whenever they weren’t saving a life. At the end of the shift, Clarke pulled her aside to make sure Lexa was alright. “I know the first few shifts can be rough, but you’ll get used to it,” Clarke had told her, clearly misreading the situation. Lexa wasn’t scared, just distracted by the woman. She knew she had to pull herself together. She told her she would do better, and Clarke promised to teach her everything she knew. And she had. Clarke’s knowledge was extensive. She had started out in medical school but lost interest as time went one. However, she retained everything she’d learnt and had more saves than any other paramedic team in the city. Lexa’s military skills and the medical knowledge she learned from Clarke had her graduating number one in her class.

They were able to date for seven months while Lexa waited for her first assignment. Clarke and Lexa’s relationship grew and the two were inseparable, talking about their lifelong future. They met each other’s parents and made plans for the inevitable long-distance relationship. As luck would have it, Lexa was assigned to a base in Polis six hours away from Arkadia. Anya was also assigned to the base. Their unit, being so close to the coast, saved lives those the Coast Guard couldn’t reach, and led forest rescues, especially during fire season. Clarke had moved out there eight months later.

After the crash on her first deployment, Lexa’s life had been changed forever. She was struggling through physical therapy after the crash. The immobility and slow progress made her furious. Going from being a fitness guru to not being able to walk was soul crushing. Her anger was sometimes taken out on Clarke, who took it for a while before finally telling Lexa that she wouldn’t stay around to be her punching bag. Her therapist eventually suggested couples counseling, and just like her body, their relationship eventually became strong again.

Lexa sighed to herself. Her and Clarke had been through so much, but they always managed to heal together. She knew that if she wanted to finally feel better, she would have to lean on Clarke. But it would be a balancing act of being honest without giving away her intentions for this weekend. Looking at her watch, she panicked. It had been 45 minutes, much longer than Lexa had told Clarke to expect. What if something had happened?

As she ran back, she noticed an odd light coming from the tent. It wasn’t as bright at the lantern they normally used, and it had a flicker to it. Opening the tent flap, her breath hitched in her throat. “Clarke,” she awed. All around the tent, Lexa’s battery powered candles she had planned to use at the cliffside flickered. In the middle, on one knee with the other leg propped up behind her was Clarke. She wasn’t sure how she managed to get into that position. Lexa slowly made her way in, keeping her eyes on Clarke’s face. She watched as a watery smile appeared across her face. “Clarke, what is this?”

“Lexa, I can see how upset this weekend has made you, but I couldn’t figure out why some storms and a few accidents would set you off so much. But then, I realized why you were trying so hard for the perfect weekend.” Clarke adjusted a little, and Lexa bent down to help steady her. “Our life has suffered its ups and downs, just like this trip. But with you by my side, everything is perfect. Stranded in an airport, losing our luggage on our first trip, having to share a twin bed at my grandparents’ house; all those memories are precious to me because they’re with you.” She watched as Clarke pulled a small crushed velvet box out of a backpack. It took Lexa a second to realize that the box Clarke held was crimson though, not blue. Her heart started pounding as it settled in what Clarke was doing. “I have waited years for this moment, and months to get you here to the woods again. Because, while the woods are your home, Lexa Woods, you are my home. You will always be my home, and I would love nothing more than to marry you. Will you marry me, Lexa.”

Tears were streaming down Lexa’s face. Never in a million years had she seen this coming. Yet this wonderful woman had taken another shitty situation and turned it upside down. Lexa didn’t even care in this moment that she wasn’t the one to ask. The woman she loved had taken it upon herself to try to fix everything and in the process mended her heart with one simple question.

“Yes.” She couldn’t get the additional words out as she started to cry, but pulled herself together. “I would love to be your wife, Clarke.”

Clarke reached up with her free hand, wiped the tears from one side of her face, and kissed her softly. “I love you, Lexa. We are a team, always.” Clarke gently grabbed her left hand and placed the ring onto her finger.

Lexa nodded, and rested her forehead against Clarke’s. They took a few seconds to just breathe one another in. “We should celebrate,” she said after her heart settled. “But first, you need to sit back down properly or that ankle is going to swell up even more.” Clarke nodded her affirmation before Lexa settled her back down and grabbed a few things from her bag. She held the two small bottles of champagne in one hand, and the ring hidden in the other.

“Before we celebrate, I have one clarification to what you said.” She stroked Clarke’s hand as she spoke. “You mentioned that the woods are my home. And while they have almost always been a place of peace for me, YOU are my home, Clarke. A home I want to have forever.” She opened up her fist to reveal the ring. Clarke gasped upon seeing it. It was gorgeous.

“Always,” Clarke vowed before kissing her again.

The two toasted each other, and to their future. Drunk off their happiness, they started making outlandish plans for the wedding before spending the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms as they reminisced about their life together. It may not have been the perfect weekend Lexa had planned, but the weekend had ended perfectly.

[babbledabble]

Progress on the folklore cardigan!

It’s getting there eventually lol. I just need to do the sleeves and neckline ribbing, but I broke the circular needles I was using for it so I might have to crochet the ribbing instead…

[flatland-a-2024-translation]

Section 03. Concerning the Inhabitants of Flatland

[Table of Contents]

Most adult Flatlanders will reach a length of around eleven of your inches, or twenty-eight centimeters. Twelve inches, or around thirty centimeters, is considered the natural limit.

Our Women are Straight Lines.

Our Expendable Soldiers, and the Lowest Classes of Laborers, are Triangles with two equal sides, each about eleven inches, or twenty-eight centimeters long, with their third side, or base, so short (Usually less than half an inch, or two centimeters), that they form at their vertices an extremely sharp angle, or point.

When these sorts of Triangles have a base of the most degraded type (less than an eighth of an inch, or three millimeters), it’s almost impossible to tell them apart from Straight Lines or Women, so sharp are their needle-like points.

Just like you do in Spaceland, we refer to these kinds of Triangles as Isosceles, which is how I will refer to them from now on.

Our Middle Class consists of Equilateral or Equal-Sided Triangles.

Our Doctors and Lawyers and Gentlemen are Squares (which is the class I belong to) and Five-Sided Figures, otherwise known as Pentagons, as mentioned above.

Above us are the Nobility, with several classes, starting with Six-Sided Figures, or Hexagons. After Hexagons, the numbers of sides increase until one is given the honorable title of “Polygonal”, or many-sided.

When the number of one’s sides become so high, and the sides themselves each so small, that the figure can’t be told apart from a circle, he becomes part of the Circular, or Priestly order. There is no class higher than that of the Circles.

It is a Law of Nature with us that a Male child will have one more side than his father, so that each generation rises in the ranks of nobility, as a rule.

This means that a Square (4 sides) will have Pentagonal sons (5 sides), and his grandsons will be Hexagons (6 sides), and his great-grandsons will be Septagons (7 sides), his great-great-grandsons Octogons (8 sides) and so on and so forth.

But this rule doesn’t always apply to the Tradesmen, the Equillateral Triangles, and it’s even less common in the Isosceles Soldiers and Workers. But, to be fair, they can hardly even be described as human beings, since their sides aren’t all of equal length.

Because they’re subhuman, this Law of Nature doesn’t work on them, and most of the time, the son of an Isosceles is still an Isosceles.

But things aren’t entirely hopeless! Your children’s position in society can always get better, even if you’re one of the most degraded of Isosceles, through hard work, dedication, and many successful military campaigns!

Often, when Workers and Soldiers prove themselves to be smarter than their peers, when they are measured again, the measurements will show that their third side, or base, has grown, while their two longer sides have shrunk, producing a larger angle at the vertex!

The Priests then graciously become involved, arranging the marriage of the lucky Isosceles to a suitable Straight Line, and the sons born to these arranged marriages are almost always born with larger angles than their fathers, much closer to being an Equal-Sided Triangle than others who married for love.

Very, very, very rarely, a true, certifiable Equal-Sided Triangle is born to Isosceles parents.

(And a critic might ask, “But why does he need to be certified? When he eventually gives birth to a Square son, isn’t that a certificate from Nature herself, proving that he’s truly Equal-Sided?” And I tell you that no self-respecting Lady would ever consent to marry an uncertified Triangle.

Square sons are sometimes born to slightly Irregular Triangles, which would seem like cause for celebration, but almost every time, the Triangle’s Irregularity is passed down to his grandson, who either fails to attain the rank of Pentagon by instead being born a Square, or relapses entirely by being born a Triangle.)

If an Equilateral Triangle has any hope of being born to Isosceles parents, there must be a careful plan of arranged marriages for several generations, as well as strict self-control and frugality. Each generation needs to become smarter than their parents, and make sure their children are smarter than they are, for many generations.

When a True Equillateral Triangle is born to Isosceles parents, the birth is celebrated for many miles around.

The Sanitary and Social board performs a strict examination of the newborn, and, if he is certified as Regular, he is, with all due seriousness, conducted into the class of Equilaterals.

He is then immediately take away from his proud, sorrowing Isosceles parents, and adopted by an Equilateral who has no children of his own, who has to promise never to let his adopted child go to the area where he was born, or even look at his biological parents, in case he mimics them without realizing it, and reverts to a degraded Isosceles.

The rare birth of an Equilateral from the masses of slaves is not only welcomed by the slaves themselves, as proof that their hope of their children climbing the social ladder isn’t misplaced, but it also gives them something to be temporarily happy about in their otherwise miserable lives, like a sudden, surprise holiday.

Such an event is also welcomed by the Aristocracy.

The Higher Classes know that their own social status won’t be threatened by these births, because it’s really the exact opposite – these births help maintain their power.

If the acute-angled rabble had been completely, absolutely without hope and ambition, it would have given rise to many leaders to start their rebellious phases, and, with their superior numbers and strength, they would have been too much for even the wisdom of the Circles to handle.

But Nature is even wiser, and has decided that, as the working-classes get smarter, they also get weaker, as their acute angle, which makes them so dangerous and stupid, grows wider, getting closer to the comparatively harmless angle of an Equilateral Triangle.

In the most brutal, acute, and threatening of the Isosceles – creatures almost on the same level of Women with their lack of angle and intelligence – their ability to kill is matched by their inability to plan how to do so efficiently.

And in return, when their descendants have finally become smart enough to plan what would be devastating acts of terrorism, they’re no longer physically capable of carrying them out.

[Image description start: A black and white illustration with a black border, titled, “The Law of Compensation”. In the center of the diagram are five triangles, starting from so acute it’s almost a straight line, until it finally becomes a much wider equal-sided triangle. Above and below are scales. The first, above, is labeled, “Intelligence”, and it increases as the shape gets wider. The second, below, is labled, “Physical threat”, and it decreases as the shape gets wider. Image description end.]

How admirable is this Law of Compensation! It just goes to show how natural, and -- dare I say, divinely inspired? -- the structure of our society is here in Flatland! It is as if Nature herself is helping our great Polygons and Circles to kill rebellion in the cradle!

Art, too, comes to the aid of Law and Order. Our doctors can usually figure out a way – through artificial compression or expansion of the exoskeleton – to make the more intelligent leaders of any given Isosceles rebellion become Equilaterals, allowing them to immediately join the privileged higher classes.

Many more of these rebel leaders, though, are too far below the standard for intelligence to be allowed the surgery, but, bewitched by the promises of becoming Regular through similar treatment, they are tricked into entering the State Hospitals, which they will never be allowed to leave. They spend the rest of their lives honorably confined to these hospitals.

Only a few of the more obstinate, foolish, or highly Irregular of the rebel leaders are actually put to death.

And then the wretched rabble of the Isosceles, without a plan, without leadership, are either killed without resistance by the small group of Isosceles assassins the Chief Circle pays in case of emergencies such as this, or, more often, thanks to the suspicions and in-fighting stirred up by the Circular party, begin attacking and killing each other, until none of them are left alive.

There are a hundred and twenty rebellions recorded in our state records, and a further two hundred and thirty-five minor outbreaks.

All of them have ended as I have described above.

[Table of Contents]

[sarahdawnsdesigns]

Hello, and welcome back to WIP Wednesday.  This week, I come back to a languishing project - redoing the Christmas Tam. 

I decided that, rather than sewing in an elastic, I'd attempt surgery on the hat.  That is, I'd cut the ribbing out and work the hat down from the brim with a smaller number of stitches, turning what had been an increase round into a decrease round.

Then, I realized that given how much I will -hate- picking up 168 stitches in a cable pattern, making sure all of them are not twisted, and, the potential for utter disaster if this goes wrong. . . . I'm just re-knitting it.  Considering that I eventually want to sell the hat pattern, anyway, it's best if I do, in fact, just have a working pattern right from the start, rather then a pattern I've cludged together. 

So welcome back to cast on number two of the Christmas Tam!  I've dropped the number of stitches in the brim by 20%, to 104 stitches for the Adult Small size, and, here's hoping this fits my giftee better (it should!)  She's been exceptionally patient in waiting for the Fire and Light Shawl to be done (it is, it's currently drying after being blocked!) and, this is the next project that should hopefully not take too long. Given that I know the rest of the cable pattern works just fine, I expect to knit this up pretty quickly, despite me being just on the ribbing. 

Yarn is Fleece Artist's 2/6 Merino in "Spruce", which is quite discontinued - this yarn was reclaimed from a previous hat project, so it's quite old now.  Needles are my Knit Picks Nickle-plated 2.25 mm circulars (heads up; this is an affiliate link, meaning I get a small commission if you make a purchase through the link!), and I think I've gushed about them enough in the previous posts!

Right now I just have my dolphin stitch marker from NotionsEmporium (another affiliate link, same note as the first!) to mark the beginning/end of round.  They were right on my desk as I'd just finished casting off the Fire and Light Shawl Monday night. So, they were convenient!  

My giftee has been making polite noises about wanting the hat done for Fall so it can actually be worn - and, hopefully, I can oblige!  Wish me luck in that I can finish this quickly!  I have a two-hour train ride to Barrie Fibre Spirit since I'm teaching there this weekend (August 24, 2024), so, I'll have lots of time to get some progress done!

[marnz]

any tips for getting into knitting? I tried knitting a scarf once and finished it, but dropped off after that. I find it very intimidating to try anything more interesting like a sweater

hi anon! i love this question! a scarf was my first project too, and it's a great first project, but tbh a scarf is kind of boring to do. I recommend doing a project like a hat or a blanket to dip your toe into knitting in the round.

i am working on my first ever sweater so I won't pretend to be an expert but i find knitting in the round, with needles connected by a cable, much more enjoyable than knitting flat (though you can knit everything flat), and you can also just turn the work over and over again while using a circular needle set to work a big project. after I made my scarf I made this blanket (here's the free pattern) using one long circular needle. It was interesting because it requires lots of different stitches, so you learn a lot and it looks fancy but it's still relatively easy, and it's the perfect time of year to make a blanket. it also knits up fast because it's super bulky so it doesn't take very long :) here's my blanket!

a hat is also fun and i promise it is pretty easy! all you need to know is how to cast on and how to join your stitches together without twisting the cast on (here's a good example). hats knit up pretty fast, i finished this hat in a few days. here's a free and popular basic pattern for a hat.

the good thing about knitting is that it has a ton of built in community. go to any yarn store and you will find knitters just hanging out, happy to help you with a project or trade techniques. Ravelry is a great resource for finding patterns or help. I love tincanknits for their designs and their tutorials. there is a lot of help online. I can post some of my favorite resource blogs for knitting help. knitting is also very social, you can knit while chatting with friends, you can knit on skype, you can go to knitting circles (my local pub has a knitting circle sunday nights).

at the end of the day, knitting means that you have to let go of perfectionism because it's so common to start a new project and have to learn new skills to finish that project. eventually as you learn how knitting works you learn that mistakes are a) part of it b) easily fixable c) won't hold you back from enjoying the end result. my blanket has a ton of mistakes because i am a beginner knitter but we still use it every day and i still like how it looks. it works out.

happy knitting <3

[mrvelocipede]

overthinking it again

Have been considering the idea of knitted doilies, and wondering if I have it in me to write a series of (brief?) essays on some of the very small details that often seem to get left out of patterns. The pattern will say "CO [some number] stitches and join." There are so many ways to do that. Some of them may be easier or harder to do, and they're all going to have an effect on what the eventual center of the doily looks like.

I've gotten as far as making a list of things that might fall into this category, based on the small doily I've been knitting lately. It's become such a long list that I'm feeling tired and brain-scrambled just looking at it.

detailed & specific discussion of circular cast-on, considering placement of YOs in between knitted stitches; also odd vs. even numbers of CO stitches

how to manage the first few extremely fiddly and annoying rounds

dealing with the cast-on tail

when to switch from DPNs to a circular needle or else to longer DPNs

any optional variations in the chart

methods for making left-leaning decreases smoother

crochet-chain bind-off vs. picot bind-off

smoothly finishing the bind-off in the round, and minimizing the jog

dealing with the remaining tail of yarn

blocking (which is a whole other collection of questions itself)

[gghero]

Do have any headcanons for Caspar and Linhardt not like the ship but as individuals (I ship them)

Oh boy do I ever!

Caspar is left-handed in my headcanon! His handwriting is surprisingly careful but his notes are always smudged because his hand gets in the way. But it gives him a slight edge when he's brawling because he catches people unawares when he leads with a left-handed stance! (Yes that's a thing!)

We know from Hopes that Linhardt can draw photorrealism and in his Bernadetta support he offers artistic critique on her painting's color palette so I like to think he received formal education in the arts since he was a child. House Hevring are amidst the most prolific art patrons in the Empire in fact (also headcanon).

Caspar has a sort of identity crisis after the war's over and he realizes he's been kind of a workaholic all his life and doesn't have many hobbies but he's reluctant to take up an interest in something because he thinks he won't be any good at it. Eventually he gets over himself and takes up woodcarving and learns how to play the ocarina! He's so proud of his progress in both

Linhardt starts needing glasses in his early 30s. At first he is a little bit upset because he thinks he's starting to look like his father, but once he finds a model he likes that fits his personality, he accepts it with grace and looks stunning to boot. He wears circular lenses with a slight tint so reading is easier on his eyes.

Caspar is not good at studying languages, but he makes himself understood wherever he goes! He picks up useful expressions and pronunciation surprisingly easily because he will talk to everyone.

Linhardt gets seasick easily, and can't swim. He despises sea travel and spends most of the voyage in his cabin, trying to sleep.

Caspar smells like tanned leather, freshly cut grass, sweat, cat hair and iron.

Linhardt's smells like angelica tea, pine tree needle soap, musty books, pond water and resin.

Caspar can whistle really loudly! He puts his fingers to his lips and the sound carries for miles.

Some of the interests Linhardt fluctuates between after the war: ornithology, mineralogy, entomology, collecting stamps, cross-stitching...

[arctic-hands]

A few people have asked me about my SillyPunk vest that I put that patch on yesterday. I don't have any recent photos of me wearing it because my apartment hasn't had hot water for like three weeks and sponge bathing with cold water has left my hair a wreck, but here's the front as it is on the back of my computer chair. The whole vest can be seen here in the post where I bought it (image also captioned)

[Image Description: a tan suede (unsure of real or faux) vest with goldish flowery embroidery holding it together. The buttons are likewise goldish embroidery, as well as the button holes. There is netting as the bottom in the same goldish thred. The vest is covered in buttons and pins. There is some unintentional lens flare coming up the top of the vest, from a TV in the background. End I.D.]

[Image Description: on the right shoulder is a small enamel pin of the Progress Pride flag (horizontal stripes of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, with a right-pointing triangle composing of black and brown stripes, followed by stripes of the trans pride flag (blue, pink, and white). The pin is facing triangle-down, as if a military rank. End I.D.]

A lil Chevron to show my allegiance

[Image Description: on the right breast of the vest, a pin button that has the trans flag on it, with the words "trans men are men" on it, with the smaller words "Baltimore Transgender Alliance" up top. Beneath that pin and to the right is a tarnished-looking metal brooch of the Sock an Buskin (the Greek theater comedy/drama masks, one mask laughing manically and the other one weeping). End I.D.]

The trans closet was out of "Trans Women Are Women" pins when I was there last. I'll get one eventually. Also, a lil bipolar rep.

[Image Description: slightly lower, a pin made of a black, circular sticker that says "End Covid I Got Vaccinated" with the outline of a needle and syringe and a checkmark. Thee sticker is coated in something glossy, and is affixed by a safety pin. Also affixed by a safety pin to the left is a weird, flat key with no teeth. End I.D.]

That's the sticker Maryland gave out with the first round of vaccinations. I wanted to keep it for posterity, so I stuck it to some cardstock, sealed it all with Mod Podge, went over the image part with some Mod Podge Dimensional Magic, and then stuck a safety pin on with some strong duct tape. The key is something I found on the top of my door frame in my old place. I just noticed something shiny on the corner of the door frame, reached up, and found it. Neither tumblr nor reddit could figure out what it was a key to. Mine now.

[Image Description: further down, an enamel pin in the shape of a painter's palette, with paintbrushes in the hole. The palette says "study art" and in a box beneath it it says "for fun or fame". End I.D.]

A pin by John Waters that I got from the Baltimore Museum of Art last time I was there.

[Image Description: above the right abdomen, roughly where it would rest over the ileum, is a gold-colored brooch of the small and large intestines. The small intestine is studded with tiny faux diamonds. End I.D.]

I saw this pin online like two years ago and new I MUST have it for Crohn's-punk reasons, and then a few months ago I found it on walmarts site when I had a giftcard to blow.

[Image Description: at the bottom, a lil metal octopus affixed by a safety pin through the loop made by one of the tentacles. End I.D.]

A lil gift from a friend 🥰

[Image Description: beneath the last two pins, showing off the bottom of the vest. In addition to the netting at the bottom, there is also a panel cut out of the lower side of the vest an filled in with that netting. Dangling from the edge of of the netting like a punk pocket chain is a string of small black rocks, affixed at both ends by safety pins. End I.D.]

Found strings of volcanic rocks on the site Unclaimed Baggage (where they sell lost luggage that hasn't been claimed after a long period of time). No idea where it was sourced from, hope it's not Hawai'i, don't need that kind of karma.

We can only do ten images a post right? I'm gonna run out soon so I'll immediately reblog with the left side.

[chloeunitfive]

McKinsey

Brand loyalty and sustainability Miriam Lobis says: One phrase to define how younger generations will impact the fashion industry is "sustainability." They will have very different expectations of what it means to be an end-to-end sustainable brand.

Magnus, Karl-Hendrik: This industry is all about brand connection, loyalty, and enthusiasm. And we are confident that, in the future, brand love and brand loyalty will be heavily influenced by the sustainability traits that a brand facilitates or fosters with its customers.

Anna Granskog says There will be a noticeable increase in many sorts of sustainable fashion consumption. One apparent example is items created from more sustainable materials, such as recycled materials or lower-CO2-impact materials such as organic cotton instead of conventional cotton. However, it might also be what we call cyclical business models, which include resale, leasing, and, to a lesser extent, repair and refurbishing.

Magnus, Karl-Hendrik: The circular customer experience is what will actually move the needle on circular business models. When some brands enable great ways of returning your garments into a circular cycle—not having to carry them back to the store but having them picked up, without any hassle, at your doorstep—and with a brand actually knowing what you have in your wardrobe, bidding for it, and sending you reminders of what would be great to bring back into the circularity cycle, the experience will become so pleasant that mass consumer participation will occur. Miriam Lobis says: Assume your stylist informs you, "You haven't worn these blue shoes in a long. "Do you not want to resell them?" Then, instead of needing to put them in a suitable location, take images, and consider the description, [an online platform] really provides a fantastic recommendation, saying, "Look, these are the shoes that you purchased." These are some of the original photographs. "This is an excellent description." And in only 20 seconds, your item will be on the platform. And, once the wardrobes of millions of customers are linked, your personal style consultant will be able to uncover and identify the individual for whom these blue shoes would be the ideal complement to their wardrobe.

Karl-Hendrik Magnus: Roughly 55 percent of all levers that are in our hands to reduce emissions are actually saving money for the industry. They will, over the long term, not always be negative and only costing money but will save money. Yes, they will still require up-front investments, but they are positive in terms of payback.

Anna Granskog: Up to 40 percent of garments are not sold at full price but at some degree of discount. And some garments end up not being sold at all. Cutting overproduction in half from where it is today would make a huge contribution toward a lower carbon footprint of the industry.

Miriam Lobis: What I would ask all the CEOs in the fashion industry to do is really take that end-of-ownership thinking seriously and consider how will it disrupt their business model: How can a brand make sure that it will be well represented in that ecosystem?

Karl-Hendrik Magnus: It’s not only a need but also, I believe, a huge opportunity for this industry to reinvent itself and create things that are exciting to the consumer.

Anna Granskog: Of course, it will be interesting to see whether it will be the established players that will eventually be the winners of the circular models, or whether we will see completely new players, “born circular.” But there’s not so much time to sit and watch. Rather, it is getting to be time to take action.

Reference:

[thegothicarchitecture]

HELLMODE - Jeff Rosenstock

More Jeff songs, same signature stock 🍲

I continue getting the same impression that Jeff Rosenstock is sticking to a sound he knows will work for him. Not to say that his schtick is getting old, as he still finds new and inventive ways to surprise listeners on every release, but each subsequent release feels more like an additional helping of the same, once perfected dish.

Personally I don't ever expect Jeff to top WORRY., a flawless album in my eyes with the best B Side medley since Abbey Road. Following this, POST- had one of my favorite songs of the decade with the closing track "Let Them Win," a despondent and half-defeated rallying cry which encapsulated the feelings of most Americans coping with Trump's electoral victory in the 2016 election. While I don't make my album reviews political, Jeff Rosenstock has a lot of opinions on the matter, and one of his strongest talents is his ability to write clever lyrics with biting socio-political commentary.

So does his knack for clever lyricism carry over into this release?

Yes and no.

For one, I'm disappointed by how lackluster and vague his political commentary is this time around. FUTURE IS DUMB and I WANNA BE WRONG bring nothing new to the table that he hasn't said better in the past. However, I'm also surprised by how unflinchingly raw and personal his best lyrics are on HELLMODE, with lines that make me wonder if he is having serious marital and mental health problems.

This is no more apparent than on the opener WILL U STILL U, which sounds as if Jeff is admitting something horrible that will eventually come to light and ruin his relationship. LIFE ADMIN feels like an apology song directly to the same person in the aftermath of said event, with some of Jeff's best lyrics showcasing his penchant for circular simplicity ("Might go to the desert 'cause I make enough to fuck off to the desert") and specific details that put you firmly in his World of boba and vinyl records. HEALMODE pushes you into his World even further, with gently plucked acoustic guitar and lyrics as intimate as this musical backdrop. This track details a beautiful little story about staying in during the rain, with detailed descriptions of the sticking pine needles and fog that make you want to nestle up with the person you love most.

As a minor drawback, the songs themselves can often feel like rehashed leftovers of previous releases (FUTURE IS DUMB sounds like a Frankenstein hybrid of Melba and I Did Something Weird Last Night) or complete misses like HEAD. However, some of Jeff's best songs show up on this release. LIKED YOU BETTER is a fun and energetic song that's begging to be belted out at a karaoke night with a group of friends (nobody else would know it but fuck it'd be fun!). DOUBT is a sleeper favorite for me, a song I wasn't fond of when I first heard it as a single but one that fits perfectly in the album's tracklist. Also the message about speaking when you lose your voice is applicable to me as more than just a metaphor, as freezing up is one of the scariest experiences that I'm sure people like Jeff are all too familiar with. And for somebody who's been feeling crippling doubt and anxiety since around the time We Cool? came out, I've always gravitated towards Jeff's music.

In summation, this won't convert Jeff Rosenstock haters into fans. What we have here is a collection of great tracks with a few okay ones, on a project that doesn't quite meet the standards set by a string of perfect or near perfect albums in Jeff's discography

Highlights: LIKED U BETTER, DOUBT, HEALMODE, LIFE ADMIN

✮ ✮ ✮ (Very Good)

[musicandteddybears]

welp. i think i’m in love with super wash merino wool. so fucking soft, yo. i have 3 balls/skeins/whatever you wanna call them in yellow, dark purple, and light blue. currently using the yellow to practice bamboo stitch, which will be used for a blanket ‘cause i like a challenge and it’ll be interesting to see how it turns out. i may have gone a little craft happy yesterday, but it was worth it. 3 things of merino wool, a uneek sock kit and size 3 needle for it (thank you local yarn store)  one hank of bulky merino (courtesy of hobby lobby, surprisingly) and a cake of caron chunky (michael’s). now i just need my knitting books to come in so i have new patterns and ideas to work with. got one more book i wanna get, but i can wait. i am so torn on whether i wanna get a few more balls of the merino in the same colors and like, make myself a lap blanket with it, or a scarf. could make a hat too but i haven’t tried that yet. dunno whether i wanna knit it flat and seam it together, or just try it on circular needles. i’ll figure out eventually. maybe a hat kit? next goal is to try pima cotton yarn! i was checking that out at the store, and it feels pretty soft, but also slippery, so maybe bamboo or birchwood needles for grippiness. i think i have blankets on the brain, ‘cause again, that was my first thought: ooo this would be good for a blanket. self why. should really work on clearing out my stash, preferably through projects. once i figure out clothing and bigger household items, it’s over.

[audhd-musings]

I hate that I require two dozen plus hours of research to make any purchase, so I end up with a massive To Buy list

Off the top of my head: washi stickers, parts to build a new pc, shikibuton and frame, sheer curtains for a room, a mop to replace my broken one, a carpet shampooer, wool base layers and skirt, Wildlings (2 pairs), glass food storage containers, interchangeable circular needles, tarot deck (on the fence)

I start browsing and then get overwhelmed, so I've spent between one and eight hours on each of the above items already, and eventually I'll rack up enough categorical knowledge to make a decision comfortably

And ofc I've spent the past month comparing and contrasting planners in my head every day because I'm tired of mine even though mine doesn't end until July (thx @ adhd)

[kexkiji]

My Love

Chapter three

<< Chapter two | Chapter four >>

Contents: fem!reader x vampire!shoto, suggestion of needles (1)

•

•

•

•

"My lady." A gentle voice called to you, waking you up with a pat on the shoulder.

"Hm?" Your eyes opened right as the curtains were drawn.

"Mhhhp." You winced at the bright light. Birds were chirping outside and your window had been opened, a gentle, warm, breeze flowing through.

"Did you rest well?" A maid asked you kindly as she set out a dress for you to wear.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you." You smiled at the girl as you climbed out of soft the covers.

"Here, let me dress you." The maid helped you out of your nightgown and into the dress. The maid spoke as she buttoned the back of your dress;

"My lady, you really should be sleeping with your window closed, it gets quite cold at night." She commented. You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

'I could've sworn I closed it last night...' You thought with a glance back at the open window.

"Sorry, I must've forgotten," You answered.

"Oh it's quite alright," the maid said, adjusting the dress.

"I'll be taking you down so you can speak with the lord of the manor about your job." She gave a pat to your shoulder once she finished.

"Here, follow me." You nodded and followed her out of the room, through the corridor, and down the large marble stairs. Eventually, you’d reached the dining hall. The maid opened the large doors and led you inside. The room was huge, a circular red carpet surrounded the massive table with various foods sitting atop. A beautiful glass chandelier hung above it. You looked around the room. A large window caught your eyes with a multitude of white flowers sitting in vases alongside the long windowsill. Just outside the window, a large fountain could be seen. There were two, you knew this. You'd seen the other one from your window last night.

'That must've been very expensive to build,' you thought to yourself.

The maid led you to sit alongside Fuyumi, across from Natsuo and Shoto with lord Enji sitting at the end of the long table. You had never seen lord Enji Todoroki before and you were glad you hadn't. Had you and you might've not agreed to come here. Enji was big, not in a wide big but a strong big. His intimidating, suffocating presence seemed to fill the room. His eyes stared down the table at you. They were uncomfortably blue.

"I am lord Enji Todorki of this house, and you are?" His loud voice filled the room, making your skin crawl. You hesitated for a moment as your eyes glanced at him. An awkward chirp of your first and last name left your lips as you introduced yourself.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I apologize for not being able to greet you yesterday, I had some...business to take care of." The older man spoke as his eyes glanced at his son, Shoto, with a look of irritation. Shoto's fork clattered to his plate as he abruptly stood up.

"Excuse me." He said, walking to the door. You watched Shoto go with a look of confusion. It was easy to notice the tensions within the family... And the absence of a mother around.

"Shoto! Get back here!" Enji yelled after him but Shoto didn't seem to care as he exited the dining hall. Fuyumi sighed next to you.

"They're always like this. It's better to just get used to it." She whispered to you.

"Father? Would you excuse me and y/n for a walk as I explain her duties around the manor?" Fuyumi suggested, an obvious ploy to get the both of you out of that awkward situation.

"Go." He waved her off. Fuyumi took your hand and led you out of the dining hall to the outdoors.

"Ah that's much better isn't it?" She said taking a deep breath as the two of you stepped outside into the cool morning air. You nodded.

"There's a nice path in the forest we can walk on, it loops back to the manor." She walked as you followed.

“Let’s talk about your duties." She smiled as she led the two of you along a mossy stone path towards the looming foliage of a forest.

"Every once in a while he's going to need some blood. Just like a human needs water, though not as frequent." Your tilted your head at Fuyumi’s words.

"He's...? Who's?" You were confused. And now Fuyumi was confused because you were confused.

"W- oh did nobody tell you?" Fuyumi tilted her head too.

"Tell me what?" You asked.

"Well, I'm not the one taking blood from you. Nor is Natsuo or our father. We each have our person for that." Fuyumi explained and brushed some hair from her eyes as a breeze blew it forward.

"You're to give Shoto your blood when he requires it." She said. You were dumbfounded.

"I thought...all of you needed my blood?" You questioned. Fuyumi looked appalled, her lips drawn into a frown.

"No! No, no, that could kill you! We don't want you dying! You just serve one person don't worry." The white-haired woman gave you a reassuring nod.

"That's what you thought this whole time and you still agreed to come? You are truly kind." Fuyumi let out a laugh of astonishment.

"But back to the topic at hand. Shoto won't ask for blood very often so you don't need to worry yourself over that." She giggled before leaning forward and whispering in your ear.

"I think he's quite shy about it." Your eyes widened slightly before you let out a chuckle.

"But to keep your blood healthy and flowing you will need to make sure you get some exercise daily. You can choose however you want to do this, whether it be helping at the stables, kitchen, gardens, or even merely just taking a walk now and then. You’re not required to do any of these things but do make sure you’re getting a good amount of movement in. We wouldn't want your blood turning sour." She smiled.

"Any questions?" Fuyumi asked.

"Why am I being assigned to Shoto? Does he not already have someone to give him blood?" You asked, curious why he didn't already have a blood giver.

"Ah, you see, Shoto's old blood giver quit," Fuyumi answered. This made you apprehensive.

"...w-why?" You asked. Fuyumi looked nervous now.

"W-well you see...Shoto can be quite...difficult...sometimes." She hesitated.

"Difficult how?" You pressed for answers.

"Well, he's quite stubborn and he may come off as cold or closed off. And he's not the best at communicating. But I promise you he isn't mean." Fuyumi explained. you nodded, having learned something new about Shoto.

"Do try to get to know him and I'm sure, in his own way, he'll try to get to know you too," Fuyumi said.

"Is that all you wanted to know?" Fuyumi asked again.

"One more question."

"Ask away."

"How do I give the blood?" You played with your fingers.

"It can be taken from a bite, our fangs are made to break your skin with ease." Fuyumi pulled her lip back to expose her upper fangs.

"Or if you don't want to be bitten then we can just take it by a needle." You shuddered at the thought.

"Most don't like the needle though, including us. It messes with the taste. But, your comfort is what's most important!" She smiled. You returned her smile.

'That's quite thoughtful of them,’ you thought to yourself.

"Shall we return? I'm sure you'd like to do some exploring on your own." Fuyumi changed the subject. You looked at her and nodded;

"Yeah, I’d like to look around a bit."

[naralanis]

A Luthor's Gambit, Pt. 2

Read Part 1 here

AO3

The heart rate monitor beeps steadily and loudly in the exam room, its frequency climbing, but not yet erratic, and the sound alone is enough for Lena to keep track of it without having to look at any of the countless display monitors feeding her all sorts of data.

The muted thuds of heavy steps add on an odd percussion to the noise, a consistent rhythm that speeds up the second Lena turns up a dial on the control panel on her side of the glass. Strong legs come down harder and faster on the treadmill in response – the steps are just enough to nearly drown out the whirring and zipping of the conveyor belt.

Lena takes note of the heaving breaths that practically wheeze through the specially designed mask – she only turns toward her monitor when the flashing light of her alarm blinks in her peripheral vision. On the other side of the glass, the thuds and grunts contrast sharply to the beeping and clicking in the observation room.

It's all a carefully analyzed cacophony – chaotic and yet methodical in its essence, and the... procedure of it all is grounding to Lena. Protocol, clear objectives, delineated steps – all of that goes quite a long way in keeping her focused and distant, even if it's an uphill battle against the unwavering blue gaze that pins her to the spot, seeming to look straight through er just as they look through the bulletproof glass that separates them.

Lena's trying to remain unaffected – unattached – by that piercing stare when the familiar hiss of the door breaks her concentration.

“She's been at this long enough, don't you think?”

Lena nods, not really acknowledging Alex as the agent sidles up to her, regarding the alien running full tilt behind the glass with a sadness she has not ever been able to mask.

Kara's panting, arms swinging at her sides in perfect form as she maintains her breakneck pace. Her breaths are heavy, and her lungs expand and contract in strong, intermittent intervals, stretching the monitoring band attached to her ribs. Her breaths sound loud and labored, especially through the mask, but her pace is consistent, and Lena's many alerts show no cause for concern.

The blonde's cheeks and chest are dappled with red, and her exposed shoulders and neck glisten with sweat—a side-effect of the ever-present Kryptonite lamps that envelop this small, insular, clinical world in green.

“Lena?” Alex tries again after several moments waiting for a response. “I think that's enough.”

Lena spares a glance at the rapidly ticking hand of her stopwatch – an antique used in races at Cheltenham once upon a time—only to shift her gaze back to Kara's, a silent question through six inches of lead-reinforced glass.

Blue meets green with that same determined stare, and in that millisecond, Kara suddenly and violently picks up her pace with a forceful grunt. The treadmill creaks with the sudden burst of speed as it tries to keep up with the Kryptonian's unspoken challenge, and Lena allows herself a smile.

“I think we’ll continue for now,” she says simply, never taking her eyes off Kara's.

Alex soldiers on for a few more minutes, but eventually excuses herself with a heavy weariness in her gaze. Some time later, Kara's sitting on a cot, catching her breath and wiping the sweat off her brow with a towel, patiently waiting as Lena removes the electrodes still stuck to her skin.

The green glow of the lamps is stronger on this side of the glass, Lena always notes silently, watching with interest as the suction cups of the electrodes leave faint red circular marks on Kara's creamy skin. She's still much paler than usual, and her scars are still visible, highlighted silver by the hue of their unusual light source.

The alien takes greedy gulps from a water bottle while Lena works – she looks and sounds winded, but there's an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in her eyes that cannot escape Lena's notice.

“So,” Lena breaks the silence, unable to contain herself. “Today seemed better, no?”

Kara nods, flexing the fingers of her free hand experimentally. “Yes,” she breathes out, looking happy and intrigued all at once. “I feel stronger today.”

“And the data seems to back that up,” Lena adds, pulling out her stethoscope and resting it on Kara's chest without preamble – the Kryptonian is used to this, and takes the requisite deep breaths without being prompted.

Lena nods approvingly, listening intently for a few moments before repeating the process at Kara's back. “Well, your heartbeat has stabilized again, and there's no discernible crackle to your lungs – all of which is excellent news.”

Kara's brow quirks--it's eerily familiar and not at the same time, and it always feels like a punch to Lena's gut that the blonde simply has no idea how often Lena has seen that exact look.

“I'm sensing a ‘but’ there,” she says, eyes narrowed.

“No ‘buts,’” Lena lies. “You are well on your way to a full recovery.”

Kara doesn't seem very convinced, and Lena doesn't exactly blame her. “Full recovery,” she repeats, as is she's measuring the weight of the words on her tongue as she says them. Her eyes flit momentarily to the green lamps that buzz on the ceiling, their low hum ever present above them.

“Does that mean those will come off when that happens?”

Lena sucks in a breath, stiffening despite herself as she falters for a moment. “We'll see,” is all she says, dodging the question like a coward for what seems to be the millionth time. “All in good time.”

Kara clicks her tongue against her pearly-white teeth, looking displeased, but not in the least bit surprised.

“That's a ‘no,’ then.”

“It's a ‘not yet,'" Lena corrects automatically. “I know they are not exactly pleasant, Kara, but trust me” -- oh, how wrong it felt to say those words, how wrong it felt to even think them -- “they are crucial for your recovery.”

Kara shifts in her seat, eyes piercing through Lena's evasiveness like a needle through skin.

“Crucial to my recovery,” she repeats in the same monotone, clinical tone Lena adopted every time she said it, though it purposefully veers into sarcasm when she's the one saying it. “If or when I'm ‘fully recovered,’ as you say, why would I still need them?”

Lena's barely aware of the sigh she releases. Her clipboard is dropped to the side table with a pathetic little thwack as she braces herself for an explanation that was becoming more and more frequent as the days went by.

“We've already told you, Kara – I have already told you – the Kryptonite is here to keep you safe. I promise.”

“So you say,” the blonde retorts, balling her hands into fists that would have crushed the water bottle she held into a warped piece of metal were it not for the lamps.  “But more and more I get the feeling—” she cuts herself off, biting at her lip with a frown.

The moments of silence are unbearable to Lena – they stretch for miles, for years.

“Feeling like what?” she pushes, knowing she should absolutely not, but this is the first time Kara seems to be on the verge of opening up in any significant way since the memory loss... and Lena's not about to let that opportunity go to waste.

Kara's returning stare is cod and accusing, the flint of determination evident. “I feel like you're not trying to keep danger out,” she murmurs, scanning Lena's eyes for any evidence of the contrary, “but rather, you're trying to keep the danger in.”

Lena remains utterly silent, fighting a war against herself to remain impassive. She can't speak. She knew Kara would come to this unfortunate conclusion – she had known it from the beginning, from the very fisrt moment they had figured out what was wrong.

She had absolutely counted on it.

“Doctor Luthor,” Kara gritted out, jaw tense and nostrils slightly flared as her gaze bore down on Lena's. “I'm the danger, aren't I?”

<< Prev || Next >>