#and 6. changed the hem and edging stitches completely

[cultivating-wildflowers]

my favorite thing in pattern notes on ravelry is when a crafter says "I followed the pattern except" and proceeds to list so many changes that their result is nearly unrecognizable from the original pattern

[naireides]

you drew stars around my scars

katara learns the story behind zuko's scar; coaxed into writing this by @hooksandheroics​ aka my zutara screaming partner

zutara week day 6: affirm rated G | wc: 2.2k read on ao3 here

affirm  /əˈfəːm/ offer (someone) emotional support or encouragement.

-

As with most things, it starts with Sokka.

“I got this one when I was a four and slipped on the ice, and I got this one when Katara was practicing with her water knives, and, oh! This one is from when we escaped from Ba Sing Se. It kinda looks like a koalaotter if you squint,” he says eagerly as he rolls up the hem of his pants to show off the slightly raised patch of skin on his shin.

“It does not look like a koalaotter,” Katara says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a scar .”

“That’s because you don’t have an artist’s eye,” he sniffs in disdain. “Aang, you see a koalaotter, right?”

He hesitates, looking between the siblings “Uh, well,” he fumbles, leaning to get a closer look of Sokka’s leg, “I guess if I squint --”

“Don’t mind them, Sokka, I think it looks like a koalaotter,” says Toph, where she leaned back against Appa’s side, flicking pebbles in the air.

He grins triumphantly. “See! I told you-- hey .” He glares at her as she starts to laugh.”I’ve got to stop falling for that.”

“You make it too easy,” she giggles before turning over onto her stomach. “I don’t have any cool scars.”

“How would you even know?”

“I just do, Twinkletoes,” she says, blowing a raspberry his way.

Aang looks sour for a second before he brightens and yanks his pants up over his knee. “One time in Omashu I was Bumi and I got this,” he says excitedly gesturing to the hypertrophic scar that graced his knee. “It looks like a map of the Fire Nation!”

Sokka leans in closer, trying to get a better look at it in the flickering light of the campfire. He strokes his chin and says, “Yeah, it actually kinda does.”

“Let me guess,” Katara says flatly, “You and Bumi had a slide accident, didn’t you?”

Aang’s responding sheepish laughter and the faint colour that rises to his cheeks tell her everything that she needs to know.

“What about you, Katara?” he asks, directing the attention to her instead of himself, “Do you have any cool scars?”

She shrugs. “No, not really.”

He pouts. “C’mon. Not even a little one?”

“Yeah Katara, not even a little one,” taunts Sokka, “You know, like when Gran-Gran taught you how to sew and you accidentally stitched your glove to your thigh.”

“Sokka!” she snaps, cheeks ablaze, while the others roar with laughter. “At least I know how to sew. You still ask Gran-Gran to darn your socks!”

It’s his turn to flush now, embarrassment creeping over him. “Zuko!” he calls out, eyes falling on the other boy who’s been surprisingly quiet this whole time. He’s sitting in the shadows, just out of their little fireside circle. “You’re up. Story time.”

His good eye widens as they all look towards him, waiting. “Uh,” he stutters for a moment before pulling the neckline of his shirt. “I have one on my shoulder that kind of looks like a fire lily?” He twists, giving them a glimpse of it for just a second before fixing his shirt to rights. “Azula pushed me into the turtle duck pond when I was ten.”

“Your sister is a psychopath,” Sokka says unimpressed.

“She’s not a psychopath,” he says, still awkward as he rubs the back of his neck, “Just… misunderstood.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m going to take a walk,” he says, abruptly standing up and stalking off into the night before anyone else can get a word in.

They all watch him leave but Katara’s eyes linger the longest, even as Toph changes the topic by saying, “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten? I’ll go first! It was sand!”

They continue on with their usual fireside banter until they start yawning more than talking and then, one by one, they tuck in for the night, curling up in their sleeping bags as the fire dwindles to just embers.

Katara waits until Sokka’s sleepy mumbling trail off into snores before she unfurls herself and heads down the rocky pathway to the shore that Zuko had taken earlier.

She finds him there, standing on the still warm sand and staring out at the ocean, nothing but the faint glow of the moon to illuminate his profile. The moon tugs at something in her veins, calling her towards the water, but she ignores it in favour of padding across to where he stood in complete silence.

He doesn’t say anything as she comes to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder. The heat radiating off of him is a nice contrast to the cool night’s air that swirls around them, laden heavy with salt and sea.

They stand there together, watch the waves lap against the shore, just far enough inland that the water barely brushes against their toes.

“Everyone’s gone to bed,” she says after a couple moments have passed.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, she shifts closer, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You should get some rest too.”

“I’m fine.”

She sighs inwardly before moving to step in front of his gaze and his head jerks back. “Look, Sokka didn’t mean anything by asking about-- he just lacks tact.”

There’s a faint quirk of his lips at the corners. “I think at this point Momo has more tact than your brother.”

“And you’d be right,” she murmurs in agreement. It’s then she realises how close they’re standing, the way she can make out every line and edge of his face in the watery moonlight. She hasn’t stood this close to him since their brief time in the crystal catacombs together.

The memory of their time together sparks something within her and Katara can’t help but let her eyes drift to his scar, the reddened, raised edges that cover his face from eyebrow to cheekbone.

She expects him to turn his head as he does whenever he catches anyone looking at the scar, but to her surprise, all he does is swallow thickly.

“I should have let you use the magic water when I had the chance huh.”

“Spirit water,” she corrects him, automatic, “To be honest, it’s probably a good thing I didn’t. I ended up using it to save Aang after Azula shot him with lightning.” She fixes him with a look. “She really is a psychopath.”

Zuko shrugs half-heartedly. “She’s still my sister.”

Katara worries her lip, hesitating for a moment before she brings her hand to rest on his cheek, feeling the bumpy, irregular surface of his skin beneath it. He winces at the contact but he still makes no move to turn away from her.

“I don’t know-- you never told me how you got this,” she says softly, her thumb rubbing at the edge where smooth skin gives way to scar tissue.

He seems shocked at that. “You mean you don’t know?” At the shake of her head, his mouth presses into a thin line. “It’s not exactly a great bedtime story.”

“I didn’t expect it to be,” she says, and then adds, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine.” He flashes her a wry grin but there’s no humour behind it, just a long lasting sadness. “It was a spectacle in the Fire Nation. The Fire Lord duelling the crown prince in an agni kai.”

Katara stumbles back as the weight of his words hit her like a freight train. The hand she had on his cheek drops, coming to cover her mouth which had fallen open in shock.

“An agni kai? Your father did this to you?” she asks, her voice just barely above a whisper as she tries to even begin to comprehend just what Zuko might have gone through. Suddenly, his actions in the early days start to make sense.

“My uncle invited me to a war meeting. It was my first time there and they were discussing an invasion plan for the Earth Kingdom. A general proposed sacrificing an entire legion of new recruits-- children, barely sixteen-- and everyone just went along with it. They didn’t see anything wrong with that,” he explains, weariness dripping from every word and settling deep in her bones. “I spoke up. Said it was wrong to lead them to their deaths like that. But by speaking against the general, I spoke against my father and he didn’t appreciate that.”

“And he challenged you to an agni kai,” she finishes, horrified.

Zuko clenches his jaw and nods once before ducking his head. “I didn’t want to fight him. I begged him for forgiveness but my father saw it as a sign of weakness. So he burnt me and then banished me from the kingdom. The only way for me to return home was if I redeemed myself, redeemed my honour , by capturing the avatar,” he says, eyes flicking up to look at her from beneath his lashes.

It’s quiet for a long time, his words hanging heavy in the air. Katara feels hot and cold at the same time, the sickening chill of everything that Zuko had to go through leaking down her spin to mix with the bright, all consuming rage in her stomach. She doesn’t think she’s felt this much anger since she came face to face with Yon Rha.

Katara doesn’t realise that she’s shaking until he puts his hands on her shoulders, steadying her and the turbulent water she accidentally agitated in all of her emotion. The hems of their clothes are wet.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soft, stepping closer, into her space, “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay ?” She chokes out a laugh that sounds like fractured glass. “It’s certainly not okay.”

“I’ve made my peace with it,” he says, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her biceps, “I thought that when he gave me the scar he took away my honour and that I had to find the avatar to regain it. But I don’t believe that anymore. I’m the only one who can get it back and by helping Aang restore order in the world… well, I like to think it’s a step in the right direction.”

She wants to laugh at how easy he says it, at how he truly believes that there’s still more making up that he needs to do before he can consider himself worthy again.

It’s that expression on his face-- half hope, half determination-- that melts the fight right out of her.

“Zuko,” she starts tenderly. Her hand finds its way back up to his cheek, brushing along the sharp line of his cheekbone, brushing over his scar. “You are the most honourable person I know of.”

She’s close enough that she can see the way his eyes widen at her declaration and the way his white-gold skin colours with a dull flush. His cheek is warm under her palm.

“All of this-- I hate that it happened to you, but you’re a good man. An honourable man. And I’m so glad to have you with us,” she tells him.

Out of everything, this is what gets him to look away, the praise she showers upon him, and Katara can’t help but grin.

She leans forward, closing the narrow strip of space between them, and brushes her lips against his cheek, soft, quick, perhaps too quick for both of them though they would never say it.

His smile is fond when she pulls back, the blush still swirling in his cheeks matching the new one that rises to hers when she meets his eyes. There’s a new warmth blazing in them as he looks down at her, and Katara feels herself colour further.

“Thank you, Katara,” he tells her, affection clinging to the simple words. He squeezes her arms once more before letting his hands drop to his sides. It leaves her strangely cold and she watches as he flexes his fingers, not looking at her again.

Tentatively, she reaches over, taking hold of his hand. It’s much larger than hers, pale with long delicate fingers, and surprisingly calloused for someone who’s a bender, and royalty on top of that. She supposes that it comes from years of training with his dao swords.

His eyes are questioning when she looks back up at him, and she offers a small smile in return.

“Come on,” she says, tangling her fingers in his as she leads him away from the shoreline. “Let’s get some rest.”

The weight of unsaid things linger between them as they slowly pick their way back up to the campsite, a quiet, sweet thing that blooms in the still air of the night. Neither of them say a word as they climb into their sleeping bags, but they lie next to each other, eyes roving across faces and drinking in the tiniest of details that are visible in the light of the dying embers.

Zuko drifts to sleep first and she finds herself looking at his scar again as sleep starts to consume her too. A reminder of his painful past, but hopefully a guiding light to shape his future.

As Katara finally succumbs to sleep, her last thought is that she hopes she’s part of that future with him too.

[myhearthealing]

( Adrian and Atticus )

A completed thread between Atticus Anastas and Adrian Kim @adrian-kim​

May 15, 2020, the day after the Carnival, and post-sex.

Adrian Kim

Adrian might have dozed off for a few minutes there. There was a thing about Atticus just being there with him that brought him a sense of peace, and he always seemed to have a restful night's sleep when he stayed the night. Usually, he was a pretty light sleeper--all those nights of waking up to his father just coming in home from a night drinking with his friends have long taught him to be very vigilant even when he was most vulnerable. He hummed as he stroked Atticus' hair, lightly planting a kiss on his forehead as he checked the time on his phone. "Hey, do you want to go get dinner now?" he asked softly.

Atticus Anastas

Atticus was absolutely knocked out. He might have also been snoring; he wasn't sure. But Adrian seemed to have that effect on him that he didn't have with anyone else. A calming feeling. Finally, he woke up from his sleep to a humming sound and what felt like a gentle kiss on his head. That couldn't be right, he must have just been imagining that part. Atticus stirred a bit, opening his eyes to see Adrian looking over at him, then at his phone. "What time is it-" Atticus asked him, his voice failing at the end. Now that Adrian mentioned it, he was hungry. "Yes, please. What did you have in mind?"

Adrian Kim

"It's 6:35pm," he said as he leaned his head on Atticus' while reading through his messages and emails. He had a paper that he needed to do tonight, so he added it to his to-do list before turning off his phone to look at Atticus. He couldn't help but smile at how adorable he looked, having just woken up. It was odd, but he kind of wanted them to stay in this moment, if only for a little while longer, just basking in each other's presence, in this embrace. "I was thinking I could call Little Icaria and change my reservation to two people, instead of just one? Or should I cancel it all together, and we can find somewhere else to eat?"

Atticus Anastas

“Mmm” was his reply to that. He shut his eyes, trying not to fall asleep again as Adrian rested his head in the crook of his arm. It was weird, but he’d never felt as peaceful with him as he did right now. Atticus found his smell becoming more comforting to him. He hoped that wasn’t dangerous, because he didn’t want it to stop. He peaked his eyes open again as Adrian talked to him. “No, that sounds good to me,” Atticus replied. He could always go for Greek food. “We might have to stop by my apartment first, though, unless you’re okay with me wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” he smiled.

Adrian Kim

Adrian chuckled as the son of Hermes drifted in and out of sleep. He craned his neck to kiss him on the cheek before he pushed himself up to a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes, letting out a yawn. "You can borrow my clothes, if you don't mind my style," he said, getting up without anything on and rummaging through his drawers. "I can fold the ends inwards so they look hemmed since your legs are a little shorter than mine," he said teasingly. "I do have a pair of joggers that could pass for semi-formal, and they have anklebands, so the length won't be an issue."

Atticus Anastas

He felt a kiss on his cheek, and then suddenly the warmth from his body was gone. “Okay,” Atticus responded, thinking his style was ‘scrubs’ and ‘naked.’ Heaving himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, he watched Adrian rifle through his dresser. “Are you calling me short?” He teased. He was 5’10, perfectly average height. “I think whatever pants are fine,” Atticus said, “It might be your long torso that’s the problem.” He stuck his tongue out at him.

Adrian Kim

"Yes I am," he teased before he took out a pair of jeans and another pair of straight cut slacks. "We can cuff the ankles on these jeans or you could try these pants since these just end right above my ankles," he said with a chuckle as he handed them to him. "My legs are a lot longer than my torso, so I figured it might pose a problem with you," he said with a laugh. "Just try them on. This way we'll save them. We probably have the same waistline anyway," he said with a raise of an eyebrow.

Atticus Anastas

"Mhm mhm...gimme these pants," he took the shorter pants from Adrian and slipped them on. They were a little long admittedly, but not to the floor at least. They did wear the same size waist-wise. They would work. "How does my ass look?" Atticus posed for him, winking. "That's the important part." The t-shirt he brought with him was clean enough so he reached over to grab it and pulled it over his head gingerly, protecting his stitched-up arm, and calling it good. "So, what are you wearing on our...eating together?" He did a botched job not calling it a date, but it definitely was. They did a lot of calling in food, and sometimes Atticus would grab a sandwich on the way out...but they didn't really go out to eat. Oh no, their first date.

Adrian Kim

Adrian chuckled as he put them on. He admired his form before grazing his ass and giving it a squeeze. "Appetizing," he said mischievously before he turned to his closet and began picking out what he was going to wear. He settled for a button-down, long sleeved shirt and a pair of slacks. He figured semi-formal would be appropriate for a dinner. "Just these," he said nonchalantly, the idea that this might actually be a date going over his head. Going out for meals with his clients wasn't really anything new to him. Then again, Atticus was just someone he met at a bar. He didn't actually pay him to have sex. Neither did he really ask for anything else in return, which was fine by him.

Atticus Anastas

He smirked at his reply, and at Adrian grabbing his ass. “Great,” he said. As he pulled away to find clothes, Atticus still felt a hot imprint where his hand was. This man’s touch was becoming too much for him. That was dangerous. “Oh,” he said, looking at what he picked out. “Very sexy of you.” Knowing very well Adrian was already completely naked, Atticus closed his eyes. “Promise I won’t look,” but lifted a finger to peek. It was becoming more fun to tease him, knowing he would just tease him right back. “So,” he started while Adrian was in the bathroom, fixing his hair, “are we walking? Or are we taking your motorcycle?”

Adrian Kim

He laughed as he wrapped an arm around Atticus waist and drew him closer, planting a light kiss on his fingertips while they covered his eyes. "You know I don't mind. Besides, you've already done all sorts of things to me, naked. What difference does it make watching me get dressed?" he asked in a deep voice, trailing his fingertips around his waist before he began putting on his shirt. The immaturity of this man was honestly so adorable. "It's a little far from here to go on foot, don't you think?" He asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "Or did you plan to teleport us there?"

Atticus Anastas

This whole scene got a laugh out of Adrian, which was all he wanted. He had a great laugh that was infectious, as Atticus was laughing along as he felt kisses on his hands. “True,” he responded before taking his hands off of his eyes to put them around Adrian’s head, giving him a kiss on the forehead before pulling away. “It is,” he said, thinking. “We can for sure teleport there, saves gas and time. I don’t know, thought you might want to show off your motorcycle to me, though.” Atticus have a wry smile, thinking about it.

Adrian Kim

His eyes widened in surprise as Atticus cupped his head to give him a kiss on the forehead. He smiled at the gesture as he walked to his table to grab his keys, wallet and phone. "I'm fine with either of those options, actually. If you'd prefer a romantic stroll, it is a nice night out, but we might be late for the reservation. Or would you prefer holding on to my waist on my motorcycle?" he asked with a suggestive smirk. "You decide."

Atticus Anastas

Atticus didn’t think it would turn out to be a romantic stroll. He didn’t take well to humidity and he knew there would be some sweat going on. Teleporting was fine, and they could be there now if they wanted...but something told him Adrian might want to enjoy the moment. “Let’s take your motorcycle. Do I have to wear a helmet?” He asked Adrian, reaching down to grab his shoes.

Adrian Kim

Adrian didn't really think about the humidity or sweating being an issue as he didn't really sweat all that much. And if he did, he had been working on elemental magic lately with Jasmine to practice wicking his sweat away to start off. He grinned. He had been hoping Atticus would choose the motorcycle. He had just gotten it about almost a year ago, and it had been really helpful to get to and from his clients' places. It was an added plus that who ever rode with him on it had to hold on to his waist. "I'd much prefer you did. I wouldn't want anything happening to that lovely head of yours," he said, stroking Atticus' cheek with his thumb before he dropped his hand and handed him the spare helmet he kept under his bed.

Atticus Anastas

With his other hand pulling on his shoe, he reached over and took the spare helmet from Adrian. Since he had a spare helmet, he wondered just how many other riders he got on this thing, since it was so easily accessible to pull out. Of course they weren’t monogamous, they weren’t even anything. Shaking his head to get rid of the negative thought running through his head, he set the helmet on the bed and put on his other shoe. “I’m ready to go when you are,” Atticus told him. “I’d brush my hair but there’s really no point.”

Adrian Kim

He smiled as he held open the door for him. "After you," he said before following him out the door. He led him to the dormitory's parking lot and pulled off the bike cover and tucked it in a small pouch to put in the trunk as he pulled out his helmet and put it on. It was around this time that he started feeling a little nervous. He didn't know why, exactly, but the prospect of having dinner with him was definitely new. He'll just have to figure out his feelings eventually. He swung a leg over and ran the ignition before turning towards him. "Please put that on before getting on."

Atticus Anastas

“Yes, boss,” he called to him as the engine started roaring, smiling a little before fitting it over his head. Atticus immediately felt claustrophobic,   The thick padding making it hard to see and hear, and then nervous as he became aware of the fact that he’d never actually ridden on a motorcycle before. He gingerly swung his leg over the bike, getting close to Adrian’s body. Now that he was here, he thought too much about where he should put his arms. On Adrian’s shoulders would be too weird, but around his chest felt too...close. His heart was pounding considering, but then he felt the bike move forward and immediately wrapped his good arm around Adrian.

Adrian Kim

He was hyperaware that his palms were getting quite sweaty, so he put on his gloves on and grinned at Atticus, noticing that he looked a little worried. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, watching as he sort of hesitated to get on the bike. He smiled reassuringly as he stroked the Greek's hand softly before giving it a squeeze. It didn't really occur to him that Atticus hadn't ever gotten on a motorcycle before until he seemed to jump when he started to back out of his parking space and quickly wrap his arms around his middle. He chuckled deeply as he stroked his arm before revving forward.

Atticus Anastas

"I'm all right," Atticus replied to him, cursing himself as his voice broke a bit. He hoped Adrian didn't notice. Feeling the other's hand on him gave him a little bit of reassurance, and he pushed all his nerves down. It was just to the restaurant, and Adrian knew what he was doing. Of course, he probably had passengers all the time, he thought with an edge of bitterness that surprised himself. Since when do I care if Adrian is with other people? But he knew the answer to that one. Adrian was...different. The ride to the restaurant was of course without incident. It felt overwhelming, and riding on a motorcycle was a completely different experience to riding a bike or even a car with the top down. When he got off, his adrenaline started falling, and he noticed he was shaking a bit. Not wanting to make Adrian worry or anything, Atticus reassured him. "I'm good, just give me a sec."

Adrian Kim

Adrian chuckled as his voice broke. Clearly, the motorcycle ride was something he just wasn't used to. He unlatched his own helmet and hung it by the handles before he turned off the engine. He kicked off the stand and slowly lowered the bike, so as not to startle his passenger,  before he got off first. He gave the Greek's hand a gentle squeeze before he reached over and helped him with his helmet and took it off for him. He stroked Atticus' cheek with the back of his hand before he trailed his finger tips through the hair above his ear, resting them just at the nape of his neck to stroke the hair there. "You're alright. You've got about 10 minutes until we really have to be inside," he said with a reassuring smile.

Atticus Anastas

Atticus was regretting his decision. Now he was all flustered and jittery, and Adrian was as suave and cool as ever. He let the man take off his helmet, his hair flying every which way. Adrian's absentminded touches gave him a soothing element he wasn't expecting. He wondered if it meant anything more to him, or if he was only trying to make Atticus feel better, nothing more. "Yeah," he said in response. Then, "Sorry." He felt embarrassed about his reaction to the motorcycle, and about the fuss over it, not liking it when people were so worried about him. Atticus straightened up and smoothed his hair back from his face. "We don't have to wait the ten-nine-minutes to go in. I'm ready."

Adrian Kim

Adrian grazed the hair at the nape of the Greek's neck, absent-mindedly stroking it before he trailed his fingers down his spine and rested a hand on the small of his back. "Don't worry about it," he said with a mischievous grin as he leaned in closer to whisper against his ear. "You know I don't bite unless you want me to," he said in a deep voice as he straightened his back and held out his other hand for the brunet. "Come on, I'll help you down," he said with a reassuring smile. He could tell that Atticus was a little nervous, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why. They were just having dinner together, nothing outrageous.

[menswearmusings]

Stylish and High Quality Denim Shirts From Besnard—Free Product Review

The washed denim shirt is a universally stylish thing. With roots going back to the American West and the rugged men who not only tamed it, but worked hard to build the industrial society we live in today, it communicates strength, resilience, and steely resolve. Much like the Oxford cloth button down, it’s been embraced the world over, not just the United States. As it’s been reinterpreted over the decades by different movements and cultures, the aesthetic changes, but those underlying sensibilities remain.

Much like the denim shirt it’s now selling, Besnard has a long history as well. After establishing his tailoring house in The Hague (La Haye) at 28 years old in 1878, Albert Besnard fashioned for himself a highly successful career dressing courtiers and those running in diplomatic circles. Sadly, with no one trained to succeed him, his business closed after four decades.

Today, his great-great-grandson Victor has resurrected the Besnard name. With his first collection of shirts—and now trousers—his mission is to “offer a complete wardrobe of timeless menswear of exceptional quality.” Several weeks ago, he reached out to me and asked if I’d be willing to give my thoughts on his denim shirt, and I agreed. The following are my thoughts (note: for information about my policy regarding free products, please see here. TL;DR: I don’t accept free stuff in exchange for positive coverage, and offer my unvarnished opinion in reviews).

For its first collection of shirts, Besnard has a small selection of the essentials: spread-collar white business shirts, oxford cloth button-downs in white, blue and university stripe, and chambray and denim shirts in light and medium wash. I chose the “bleach” wash denim.

The construction and fabric of the shirt are excellent to my eye and check all the boxes you’d expect: single-needle construction, high-quality fabric (in this case, from Japanese denim mill Kaihara, famous worldwide for its denim), Australian mother of pearl buttons.

But it’s the design that’s of particular importance to me. Foremost is the collar. It’s a button-down collar with a generous roll, with a virtually un-detectable lining, and with an expression that’s more spread than pointed. Translation: it looks amazing with or without a tie. The collar design looks pretty much like the Kamakura button-down collar, which is one of my all-time favorites (I’ve written about my preference for button-down collars with a spread expression as opposed to point here).

Thankfully, Victor has chosen to make this shirt with a properly wide front placket (1.5 inches; many shirts have only 1.25 inch wide plackets). Wide by European standards, it’s exactly right for a button-down shirt. I cannot stand narrow plackets. I’d all but written off Proper Cloth for years until they introduced a wide (read: normal-width) placket. I was bitterly angry when I ordered a blue OCBD from Brooks Brothers three weeks ago to discover it has a narrow placket, and returned the shirt. So to see a shirt from Europe with a classic placket brings me much joy. Victor describes something that makes the placket extra cool, too: “It was made in the traditional way, using a chain stitch on the edges, which is the same stitch that can be found on the hems of (proper selvedge) jeans. As a result, the placket ages similar to the hems of a pair of raw jeans (but less roping due to the lighter weight of the fabric).”

Another cool design detail that I really like is the pleating at the sleeve cuffs. Most shirts have just a few pleats (4 being the most, space evenly around the circumference), which is how they taper the sleeve from its widest point at the armhole down to its narrowest, at the wrist. Brooks Brothers famously has 6 or 7 micro-pleats, which I’ve always loved. I appreciate Besnard’s larger but numerous pleats for the same reason I appreciate Brooks’s: for its uniqueness as well as its aesthetics. It also accomplishes something from a fit perspective: it allows the elbow and forearm to be wider and more comfortable, with a narrower cuff. That doesn’t seem like particularly unique, but often in ready-to-wear shirts you see one of two things: a baggy sleeve that tapers down to a loose cuff, or a slim sleeve that doesn’t have enough room in the forearm, endangering premature elbow blow-outs.

I own one other denim shirt, from Proper Cloth, and it’s a heavy weight denim. By contrast, this fabric is lightweight. Which is great, because it’ll wear much more comfortably in the hot months.

Fit is unique to every person, so check out the measurements on the site when you order. I’d describe it as a contemporary fit—not slim but not loose and baggy either. Sadly for me, the sleeve length on my standard size was too short. Victor swapped it out for me for the next size up, and it works, but the collar is too big, so I can’t wear it with a tie, and the fit went from basically perfect in the shoulders and body to looser than I’d prefer. But those aspects are far more workable than short sleeves. Given that I’m unlikely to wear this shirt with a tie, the collar looseness is workable, too. But it’s undeniable the shirt is a disappointment for me from this perspective.

Besnard’s denim and chambray shirts are a thumbs up from me. Thinking about the various companies making washed denim shirts, the price point here is just right given the quality of the materials, make, and the design. You get a great product for the price.

Shop the Look

Barbour Ashby coat [or its parent, with a traditional fit, the Bedale]

Brown tweed sport coat [similar 1, similar 2]

Besnard bleached denim shirt

Sid Mashburn natural denim [budget option: J.Crew]

Meermin snuff suede chukkas and belt [alternative from Spier & Mackay]

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[sermichels-blog]

once bitten / twice shy (urie/higemaru)

Title: Once Bitten / Twice Shy Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul :Re Pairing: Urie Kuki/Higemaru Touma Rating: T Summary: “Listen … here’s what you should know.” A cold tone of voice, to match the thermostat setting. Urie fixes his gaze somewhere on the back wall of his bedroom. “I don’t do dating. I’m not going to be anyone’s boyfriend. (Love is out of the question.) So if you try this, you’re just going to be disappointed in the end.” A/N: TG:Re fandom needs more Urie/Higemaru. I feel like I can’t be the only one shipping it. Right? ... Anyway, cue 2,500+ words, in which there’s kissing and Urie acting like an emotionally constipated dumbass (because that’s who he is.) 

(Read on AO3)

Perhaps somewhere in the procedural handbooks, there are rules and guidelines for professional working relationships within the CCG. And within those handbooks, Urie is sure there might be a note about the dangers of romantic or sexual relations with your direct superior (or a member of your squad, if you are the direct superior.)

But those aren’t the procedures committed to his memory. They’re not relevant to fieldwork, for one thing, and won’t help him effectively kill more ghoul scum, so there’s not much point reading and taking notes to the point where he can quote exact subsections. Especially for him, because romance and sex have perpetually been off the radar of his priorities.

At least –– they’re supposed to be.

They’re supposed to be.

They’re going to be. (He knows the cost of slipping up.)

It’s an unusual day that sees them flushing out Aogiri agents in the middle of the afternoon. Ghouls aren’t nocturnal, but it seems like darkness tends to embolden them to go creeping outside with their masks and shroud-like clothing. But the squad had a reliable tip-off, ambushing a group outside a hideout in the 12th Ward.

Complete annihilation before 6 p.m. is a reasonable accomplishment.  

It makes for a strange evening, though. Urie’s stomach turns as he cuts up meat for their dinner (although it even churns at the smell of plain white rice). As usual, Yonebayashi is no help; he nearly trips over her as she hangs around the kitchen. Aura pisses him off by breathing, although he’s at least dutifully washing all the utensils Urie hands his way.  

There isn’t room for everyone to be here helping, and the tally of the number of times Higemaru has accidentally brushed Urie’s hands, his biceps, his ass … it’s reached double digits. (Halfway there was already too much.)  

Urie excuses himself as soon as he’s finished eating, leaving the rest of the washing up for the squad to complete. “I’m taking a shower,” he announces, and even though he means it as a deterrent, he can tell whose attention he’s piqued.

“Please relax and enjoy it, squad leader!” Higemaru flashes a smile.

In tandem, Urie and Hsiao roll their eyes.

But ultimately he ends up following that advice, even if it has nothing to do with Higemaru’s request. It’s actually his third shower today: one in the morning (customary); one after their mission (for removing sweat and blood from the afternoon’s operations). This time it’s just to turn the water up to the highest heat his skin can tolerate, and hope that it burns away some of the tension knotted deep into the muscles of his back and the base of his neck.

It helps.

For all that he appreciates buttoning himself into uniform and going to work, it is nice sometimes to slip on an old t-shirt, soft around the edges from a few dozen cycles in the washing machine, athletic pants rather than tailored slacks, and a navy blue sweatshirt that declares his affiliation to the CCG’s 7th Junior Academy. His hair falls into his eyes now when he doesn’t style and gel it, so that’s not ideal …

Urie is staring at his paints, mentally weighing up the advantages to spending a little time on one of his canvases before he attempts to sleep, when he hears a soft yet deliberate knock on his bedroom door. Saiko probably wouldn’t knock at all, and would simply let herself in, while Aura is too stupid to knock, so it leaves one of the other recruits as options. (It won’t be Mutsuki, either. He and Urie have a wordless and mutual understanding to stay out of one another’s private space.)  

Rose hair and a hopeful smile greet Urie, which makes him reconsider his choice to answer. Higemaru is so …

So bright, sometimes. He’s wrapped into a sweater that’s clearly too big for him, which seems like a waste, given the prominent designer’s emblem stitched near the hem, but that gives him the effect of looking smaller than he is.

“Squad leader, are you busy?”

Urie hesitates long enough for it to be an obvious no. (He blames the fact that he’s tired.) “What’s this about?”

“I wanted to ask what I can do to improve,” Higemaru declares.

It’s hard to find fault with that question, admittedly (even if Urie is sure that his own bedroom isn’t the right setting for them to discuss it). The boy is far from perfect, and could really use some improvement –– physically, tactically ––

“Listen to instructions?” Urie suggests.

He steps away, but behind him, the door stays open. It’s as close as he gets to making straight up invitations.

Higemaru takes a few curious steps inside, pausing to look at the canvases lined up by the wall. Urie is glad none of them are in such a state of completion to reveal the subject matter; those are questions he doesn’t want to field right now. (Or ever.)

“I try.” Higemaru frowns as he skips ahead a few steps to get closer to Urie. “But–– you know how it is in the heat of the moment. Sometimes the instructions aren’t …” He flushes, and backtracks. “I don’t mean to say you’re wrong! It’s just that if the plan has to change, I don’t think I’m good at improvising. But you always seem to know how to adapt, Urie-senpai.”

He can say that, Urie thinks, because he didn’t see what it was like that time.

Something gnaws at the inside of him.

“You were a good student,” Urie says, surprised at the patience in his own voice. “You have to be so confident in your own knowledge that it becomes instinct. The heat of the moment doesn’t matter –– what you learned will keep you alive, if you can do it right.”

Higemaru’s eyes widen, and he nods. “That’s–– ”

(Don’t say it’s cool.)

“That’s why training your body is important,” Urie interrupts so Higemaru can’t finish the statement. “You can know everything there is to know, and it’s useless if you can’t keep up physically. The same goes in reverse. Being physically strong is useless without the tactical knowledge to back it up.”

There’s another nod. Urie isn’t sure if he likes the way Higemaru is looking at him now, with such wide-eyed admiration … it’s not like he doubts his own talent, but he’s aware enough of his own limitations to know when hero worship isn’t justified.

And besides, it reminds him just a little bit of how he used to be able to say absolutely anything (any bullshit) he wanted and Shira––

Urie places a hand on Higemaru’s shoulder, intending to guide him back towards the door and out to the hallway, where without saying so many words, he’ll make the message clear: goodnight, we’re done talking.

He sees Higemaru’s eyes flicker downwards as he does so. Urie’s eyes similarly flicker lower, and it’s stupid, because he can tell Hige is looking at his lips, which he obviously can’t see himself, but he can mirror it and see the younger boy’s pout. He can also glance up in time to see Hige meet his gaze, and it’s mostly an accident of timing that sends his head tilting left when they lean in.

For some reason, it still surprises Urie when their lips meet.

Higemaru is soft, and tastes like rosewater; he wonders if he’s put on some kind of lip balm, and if he did that because he was anticipating this. It’s slow, careful, and exploratory at first, while Urie’s mind races –– no, it’s more of a languid crawl, isn’t it? –– to catch up. He can hear the sound of their breaths, and open eyes catch Higemaru’s girlishly long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Even with his stupid wide-eyed expressions, he’s undeniably pretty, even if Urie is adamant about having no time for romance.

In fact, he’s usually the type to dodge the embraces his teammates try to throw his way, so Higemaru’s hand steadying itself on his waist while his own hand (he’s forgotten his gloves, he notes with a moment’s panic, and feels like he might as well be standing here naked) still balances on his shoulder is practically electric.

Deepen the kiss, he thinks.

It would be nice to ignore everything for a little while. The kiss feels nice, and Urie’s had so few fucking comforts lately. Less than once a week, he might take an extra hour in bed … but that’s it, that’s all that amounts to an indulgence while his life otherwise churns ahead at a grueling pace.

Higemaru’s hand tightens on his hoodie while the press of his lips gets insistent. Somehow trying to breathe through his nose no longer feels adequate, and Urie is forced to open his mouth and gasp for air, but that leaves an opening for his younger squad mate’s tongue to give a teasing flick.

The fact is, Urie can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he’s been kissed. Forgetting to breathe might be making his head spin, but something that’s more of a feeling than a coherent train of thought forces itself to the forefront.

It’s a feeling that whatever Higemaru is looking for, Urie won’t be able to give it to him (even if he wanted to, and that’s a separate issue, something that he’ll need time to pick over like a case file). A feeling that it’ll only allow him to grow more attached than he already is (bare minimum though he’s permitted himself).

A feeling that Higemaru in particular, with his reckless, stupid behavior on missions, is likely to end up bleeding and in pieces while Urie screams himself hoarse for it all to stop, stop, stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it

“I can’t,” Urie gasps as he pulls his head away and squeezes his eyes shut. The closed eyes are kind of an involuntary reaction, but he’s glad of it, even so; he doesn’t want to know what Higemaru’s expression looks like right now.

“I––squad leader, I’m sorry,” Higemaru stutters. He takes a step backwards. Urie keeps the thermostat low enough in the chateau that the air feels like a cold punch. “I just … knew I had to try?”

(Idiot; why does it sound like a question?)

“It’s not you,” Urie says, surprised at how nonchalant he can make it sound when his head feels like it’s ringing as loud as the emergency alarm systems in headquarters. “I don’t care…”

He doesn’t really mean it like that, but it’s effective. His eyes reluctantly open in time to see Hige’s expression fall.

“Listen … here’s what you should know.” A cold tone of voice, to match the thermostat setting. Urie fixes his gaze somewhere on the back wall of his bedroom. “I don’t do dating. I’m not going to be anyone’s boyfriend. (Love is out of the question.) So if you try this, you’re just going to be disappointed in the end.”  

He knows it’s a jump, to go from one experimental kiss to considering dates and relationships, but what’s the point otherwise? What’s the fucking point of getting close to someone if there’s no goal in sight?

Higemaru is breathing too loudly (Urie has the sudden horrible realization that he might cry, and no, he’s not dealing with that right now!) and fluttering his eyelashes at a rate that would’ve made more sense before the kiss. But what he says somehow manages to cut like a scalpel.

“You’re afraid.”

Urie can see the pieces falling together, written in the expression on Hige’s face. With his bright colours and games and excited smiles, it’s easy to forget that he can claim one of the Academy’s sharpest intuitions, even though his rank is still low and untested. Still, Urie knows from his own experience that emotion is ignored, even suppressed in Academy lessons. It shouldn’t be that easy for the younger boy to pick up the depth of his fears. (Does that mean they’re obvious? Fuck that …)  

Losing his father had ripped a hole in him, a hole that he’d only been able to stitch back together with perfect scores on exam papers and a vague notion of how to drag his way up the ranks into S3. So what if that was really as shallow as the others had accused? He’d been happy … right? It hadn’t been complicated, at least.

And then Shirazu Ginshi, with that rare talent of his, had managed to tear it all down. Stupid boy, good for wrecking things and not much else.

Shirazu hadn’t even been his close friend; Urie had been secretly hoping until a matter of minutes before his death to overcome him, to watch him fail and lose the leadership position he’d never been suited for. He’d planned to revel in that. Except then he had to go and die, and his death had still ripped into Urie, cutting through all the paper-thin walls he’d set up to try and protect himself. (And then Sasaki had lit the match and thrown it onto the ruins, cut the sinews of whatever dignity he’d been clinging to, and now here he is staggering along like his hamstrings have been severed.)

The problem isn’t that he can’t love. It’s that he can’t let himself. There aren’t any whole pieces to give away anymore, if there had been any to begin with. And anyway, it’s too much to worry about right now, after something as insignificant as a kiss.

But Higemaru has just drawn back the curtain and seen how pitiful he really is, and Urie hates him for it, with an intensity that surprises him. (Objectively thinking, Hige hasn’t done anything wrong, and it’s not his fault that his squad leader is a fucking mess of a person, but stress has a way of washing out Urie’s reasonable side.)

“ –– Get the fuck out of my sight,” he hisses.  

His eyes are clenched shut by the time the sentence fully escapes his lips, so he misses the younger man’s response. It’ll be bad enough to have the image of his pitying expression from a few moments ago burned onto his eyelids, even without offence and betrayal tossed into the mix. The door doesn’t slam (Hige’s been brought up better than that) but a few seconds after it clicks shut, Urie allows himself to let out the breath he holds.

Fuck.

Being alone at least allows him to clear his head. For a few minutes, he sits staring down at his hands; without the leather of his gloves protecting them, he knows his fingernails would have gouged half-circles into the skin of his palm.

Saiko will be upset, he reflects. (It’s not her business anyway. She shouldn’t be encouraging Hige, and he knows she does.) Mutsuki would probably be disappointed by this display too, but maybe he would understand; they’ve found common ground before with their propensity for pushing others away, though Urie still isn’t ready to delve into the full irony of how that realization has brought the two of them closer.

He sighs, shoulders slumping as the ragged breath forces its way out.

What he should have protested about was the fact that Hige is good at kissing, which means he’s done this before. (With who?! He’s too young––)

(It’s not that Urie is jealous.)

(Ah … he’s fucked. He’s so, so fucked.)

[vitiosuscoercitor-blog]

Machine Sewn Turned Hem

Sewing a Baby Hem or Turned Under Hem

A large number of the free examples on this site allude to a turned under trim or give directions to turn the stitch under and under again to encase the crude edge and afterward sew the fix set up. This is at times called a child fix or a turned under fix. It is likewise one of the least difficult stitches to sew.

There are a couple of things that can turn out badly:

Curved Fabric-the texture doesn't lay easily. This normally occurs on a bend or the inclination grain of the texture.

The completed trim needs to flip up. There is an approach to keep this.

The sewing is uneven and unattractive. There is a fix

The accompanying directions are in detail so you can have impeccable outcomes without fail!

What you have to sew a turned under sew:

A check or estimating gadget

An iron

Straight sticks

Conceivable hand sewing needle and string - this is particularly useful in the event that you are sewing a satiny, tricky texture.

A sewing machine

Sewing a Baby Hem or Turned Under Hem - Step One

The initial step for a child or turned under stitch is to turn under 1/4".

Note: If you are following an example and the example calls for you to turn under 1/2" or an alternate estimation, pursue the example and substitute the sums in these ways.

A straight edge can be estimated and squeezed under (to the wrong side) 1/4". In spite of the fact that it isn't vital, this is an incredible time for apprentices to try different things with following a straight line on the sewing machine, by sewing a line of sewing 1/4" from the edge and afterward utilizing the line of sewing as a rule to press.

On the off chance that the texture is bended, it is ideal to sew a column of seasoning fastens 1/4" from the crude edge. The sewing line turns into the overlap line and this line of seasoning will likewise be utilized to ease in the texture so it fits the region it is being swung under to.

Note: When sewing a line of seasoning fastens or a rule of join, consider utilizing bobbin string to forestall abundance mass.

Completing the Pressing Process

Turn under again 1/4". You can gauge again or utilize the past turned under territory as a guide.

The essential part is to be exact and press well.

In the event that you have been sewing for some time, you comprehend facilitating sections gathering texture. Turning under a bended stitch is well-suited to have tucks of texture as opposed to a smooth streaming line. Utilizing the column of treating lines, you will draw the strings of the texture closer together to one another with the goal that they will fit the territory you are turning them under to.

Secure the stitch. Utilize straight sticks to hold the sew set up or hand treat the trim set up. On the off chance that there is a bended region, consider hand treating the region with a long running line, close to the focal point of the fix so the seasoning join won't get captured in the machine sewing and can be effectively expelled.

You will likely join as near the edge that was squeezed under first to connect it to the body of the texture.

This can be accomplished with hand sewing. Hand sewing is generally done to take out any sewing from being seen.

Machine sewing is the quickest method to sew this sort of sew. You will need to arrange a guide on your sewing machine with the goal that the sewing will be as near the main collapsed edge as could be expected under the circumstances. This will keep the stitch from turning to the wrong side and keep it laying easily.

Instructions to Sew Microwaveable Bowl Potholders

Microwaveable Bowl Holders

These microwaveable bowl holders run in the microwave with dishes in them so you can securely expel a hot dish without moving a potholder around a clumsily estimated extremely hot bowl. They're so charming you can even serve dinners in them!

They are extraordinary for holding hot dishes while staring at the TV, so they're ideal for serving bowls of stew as you accumulate companions for the major event. They're additionally launderable if there should arise an occurrence of spills.

It's critical to make these potholders from 100% cotton to maintain a strategic distance from any danger of flame or liquefying. Continuously preshrink your texture with the goal that it won't contract in the wake of being washed.

You can make only one, or an entire pile of them!

Apparatuses and Supplies for Making Bowl Holders

Blurb board or Card Stock - sufficiently huge to influence a similar size square you to pick. (Estimations gave in the subsequent stage.)

Cotton batting

Cotton Fabric

Cotton string

Estimating Tools

Stamping Tools

Sewing Machine

Eyelet Tool or Other Punching Tool

Iron and squeezing gear

03

of 09

Make a Template

Reusable Bowl Holder Template

In the event that you are just going to make a couple of microwavable bowl potholders you can without much of a stretch avoid this progression however in the event that you are making them as blessings, it sets aside the opportunity to make a layout. The time you spare re-estimating and denoting each piece will effectively be made up and spared by utilizing this format.

You will require publication board or card stock for this progression. Cut out a square for the size microwave bowl potholder you will make. The precedents are made with 10" squares, yet you can make different sizes for bigger dishes.

Make sure your squares are genuinely square and even. Utilizing revolving cutting apparatuses is very useful for making an ideal square. Keep in mind that utilizing your texture slicing apparatuses to cut any type of paper will dull them. Utilize an old sharp edge or utilize the rulers to stamp out a square and after that utilization your paper scissors to remove it.

One each side of the square make the accompanying markings:

For a 10" square

Imprint 4", 5" and 6" from the closures on each side and 2 1/4" in toward the focal point of the square at the inside 5" mark.

For a 12" square

Imprint 5", 6" and 7" from the closures on each side and 2 1/2" in toward the middle at the 6" mark.

For a 14" square

Imprint 6". 7" and 8" from the closures on each side and 2 3/4" in toward the inside at the 7" mark.

Presently utilize an eyelet or another punching device, or even a vast needle, to punch the imprints you have made on the square, with the edge checking openings around a 1/4" in from the edge.

Cut and Mark the Bowl Holder Pieces

For each bowl potholder, you should remove two texture squares and two batting squares. Utilize rotating cutting apparatuses for precision.

Stack like hues together so you can change machine string shading as inconsistently as could be allowed. Cotton string isn't accessible in the variety of hues that generally useful string is for piece of clothing sewing so you will once in a while be ​an precisely coordinating string. When making many bowl holders, complete one shading before changing the sewing machine shading to utilize another string shading.

On each square of batting, exchange the markings from your layout. Spot the layout over a batting square, adjusting every one of the edges. Utilize a fine tip marker that is near the shading texture you will utilize or a disappearing ink texture marker or tailor's chalk. Spot the tip of whatever texture checking apparatus you are utilizing through each gap on the layout, denoting the batting all the while. Proceed through the heap of batting squares until they are altogether checked.

Sew the Batting and Fabric and Form Darts

Sew over each square beginning at the middle stamping, through the imprint in from the edge, to the contrary side. Rehash so you have sewn crosswise over the two sides of the texture shaping a cross that converges in the focal point of the square. On the off chance that you need help sewing a straight line over the texture, set up a crease manage on the sewing machine.

Discretionary: sew from each corner to the contrary corner for included knitting.

Without putting the batting and texture square down, crease the texture so the correct sides of the texture are as one along one of the primary sewing lines.

Sew from the denoting that is one inch from the best focus stamping to the middle denoting that is a few crawls from the edge, making a dart.

In spite of the fact that you don't typically back-fasten toward the finish of a dart, for this situation, the darts can be back-sewed to verify the pointed end of the dart, as the batting ingests any mass that the back-sewing may make. Also it is a lot quicker than tying off the string closes.

Without unfurling the texture, sew the dart on the contrary edge of the texture.

Unfurl the texture and crease the other stitched line. Rehash to sew the darts in the closures of the rest of the sides of the texture.

Put the sewn texture aside and rehash until the whole heap of like shaded texture is sewn to this point.

Press the Darts and Trim Them

With the texture sides up, press the majority of the darts in a single course. You will accelerate the procedure and spare power by doing the majority of the squeezing at one time. Working with the texture up and the bowl indented enables you to flip the bowl so you work your way around the edge of each bowl.

Trim each dart to around a 1/4" crease recompense. After the darts are cut, home every one with the picked inverse side so you will have them together for the subsequent stage.

Sew the Layers of the Bowl Holder Together

ith the texture right sides together. Utilizing straight sticks, coordinate the darts as you would a crease intersection.​

Adjust the rest of the edges and stick together.

Begin sewing on one edge of a bowl just before a dart, utilizing the weight foot as a crease manage for an around 1/4" crease stipend. Sew around the edges, rotating at the corners and ceasing simply past the last corner so that there is an opening to turn them right sides out.

Trim the edges of each bowl.

Keep sewing the sets until they are generally finished.

Top Stitch the Microwaveable Bowl Holders

Turn each bowl right side out.

Utilizing a device, for example, a scarcely honed dowel or a letter opener that isn't sharp, push out the corners on each bowl.

Come back to the iron and press, opening the creases. Where the opening is, press with the goal that the crease stipend is tucked in and squeezed under equitably as though it was sewn.

Come back to the sewing machine. Top join the whole best edge of each bowl, near the edge with the goal that the opening is sewn shut and the whole best edge is held I

[crossstitchclub]

New Post has been published on https://knittingpatern.com/hoody-knitted-jumper-for-baby/

Hoody knitted jumper for baby

Hoody knitted jumper for baby

Kids love a hoodie in cool weather.

Hoody knitted jumper for baby

YARN

• 8, 9, 10 balls Sublime Organic Merino Wool DK

• 2, 2, 2 balls Sublime Baby Cashmere Merino Silk DK

NEEDLES AND TOOLS

• 3.75mm knitting needles

• 4mm knitting needles

• 4mm double pointed needles

• Stitch holder

MEASUREMENTS

Sizes 4, 6, 8

Chest cm: 61, 66, 71

Finished cm: 75, 81, 87.5

GETTING STARTED

A simple pattern of 8 rows stocking stitch, 8 rows garter.

WORKING PATTERN BACK

** With 3.75mm needles and Sublime Organic Merino Wool DK, cast on 80 (88, 96) sts.

Row 1: (RS) * K2, P2, rep from * to end of row.

Row 2: (WS) * K2, P2, rep from * to

Repeat these two rows until work is 5cm, increasing 9 sts evenly across last (2nd) row 89 (97, 105)sts. **

Change to 4.00mm needles and working in a pattern of 8 rows stocking stitch, 8 rows garter continue until work measures 44 (46.5, 51.5) cms. Cast off.

FRONT

Work from ** to ** as for back.

Change to 4.00mm needles and proceed in pattern until work measures 37 (40, 43) cm ending with RS facing for next row.

Next Row: Work across 38 (42,

46) sts, (neck edge). Turn. Leave remaining sts on stitch holder.

Next Row: Decrease 1 sts at neck edge

on next 13 rows. 25 [29, 33] sts. Continue until work measures the same as the back. Cast off.

Pick up stitches off the stitch holder and beginning within the row cast off 13 sts. Work to end of row.

Next Row: Working to match the first side, cast off 1 stitch at neck edge in the following 13 rows and continue to match length of back. Cast off.

SLEEVES

»** With 3.75mm needles cast on 44 sts. Work in rib as for back for 4cm, increasing 5 sts across last row (WS). 49(49,49) sts. ***

Changing to 4.00mm needles, and proceeding in pattern increasing each end of the 3rd and foil 2nd rows to 55 [59, 59] sts and then in every 4th row until 85 [93, 99] sts.

Continue until work measure 26.5 (30.5, 34.5) cm. Cast off.

HOOD

With Sublime Cashmere Merino Silk DK and 4.00mm needles cast on 116 (122, 128) sts loosely.

Complete 4 rows stocking stitch. Place a marker at each end of last row. Cont in stocking st until work measures 24 (25.5, 26.5) cm ending with a RS row.

Shaping Next Row: K106 (112, 118). Turn, leaving rem stitches on stitch holder.

Next Row: P96 (102, 108) Turn Next Row: K86 (92, 98) Turn.

Next Row: P76 (82, 88) Turn.

Next Row: K66 (72, 78) Turn.

Next Row: P56 (62, 68) Turn. Next Row: K46 (52, 58) Turn. Next Row:  P36 (42, 48) Turn, Leave rem sts on a holder  (centre back) Break off wool leaving a long tail.

l-CORD

With 2 x dpn cast on 3 sts.

K3 – slide to other end and K3. (Do not turn work),

Slide and K3. Continue in this fashion to form a tube measuring 90cm. Thread through hood casing and tie knot in each end.

MAKING UP

Sew shoulder seams. Fold hood in half, dividing remaining stitches onto two needles and grafting centre back. Fold cast on edge to inside of hood to form casing and sew into position.

Sew hood to neck edge.

Sew top of sleeve equally to front and back. Beginning at waist ribbing, mattress stitch from hem to sleeve band on both sides.

[fabrichut]

I Want to Learn to Sew...Now What?

So you got a sewing machine for the holidays. Congratulations! A sewing machine is a great investment for your new hobby! …Now what?

1. Stock up on essential items There are some basic things every sewist needs in their arsenal, no matter what you are sewing.

Seam ripper – every sewist has to rip something out, no matter how long they have been doing this. Everyone makes mistakes! You want to be prepared to backtrack if needed.

Scissors big and small – A good pair of scissors stays sharp for a long time. Your kitchen scissors that you keep in the junk drawer are not going to cut it this time (get it?). You want scissors that have never touched paper, and you never want to let them touch paper. You will need more than one pair, and in more than one size. Some heavier fabrics will need a larger pair, whereas some of your lighter fabrics will not need as much heft in the cut.

Extra bobbins – Bobbins are so small and so easy to lose, you are going to want some extras. You also want to be able to keep as many filled bobbins as possible so that when you need to change colors, you will have the bobbin ready. You also want to be able to fill a bobbin with the thread you are working with without having to unroll another bobbin to do so.

Needles – Chances are that your machine comes with a few extra needles for when yours breaks. However, you are going to want to use different needles for different projects. Schmetz has a great chart depicting what needles should be used for different projects, as well as this link which shows what the points of certain needles look like and what each of the band colors mean for what you are working on.

Thread – Always keep spools of black and white thread handy. Black and white are the most commonly used colors in projects, followed by neutral colors. You don’t have to match every color in every project you make, but if you love purple and know you’ll be sewing lots of purple things, then by all means get purple thread!

Tape measure – A tape measure allows you to measure areas that are not necessarily straight and flat and thus harder to measure with a ruler or yardstick. They come in 60” and 120” lengths and can often come in fun colors!

Pins or clips – No matter how much control you think you have, you will never have complete control over your fabrics. Pins keep things in place where you put them while you are working on other parts of a project. Pins keep a pattern stuck to your fabric while you are tracing it or measuring it. Clips help when you are not too keen on poking holes in your fabric or if you are working with several layers of fabric.

Pin cushion – (or other storage device) This one should be self-explanatory. No one likes stepping on a pin, do they? There are plenty of fun ways to keep your pins, from your typical tomato-shaped pin cushion to a magnetized saucer or pin cushion for your wrist.

A few other supplies you may want to try include a rotary cutter and a self-healing mat (to make cutting fabric much quicker and easier on the hands), tailor’s chalk or marking pencil/pen (for tracing patterns onto your fabric without permanently marking said fabric), the aforementioned Wonder clips, pinking shears (for cutting edges of fabric so that they do not fray), or if you do not want to get pinking shears – Fray Check (which seals the edges of your fabric).

2. Take a Class You sit down at your machine to start a project, and a space-ship control panel looks back at you. What do these buttons do? How do I do a zig-zag stitch? What is a blind hem stitch? How do I change stitches? Overwhelmed, you stand back up and walk away, only to come back a week later to the same dilemma.

Fear not, beginner sewist! Even the most experienced seamstress had to start somewhere, and more often than not they had someone to teach them, whether it was a mother or grandmother or a Home Economics teacher. Fabric Hut offers free classes with machines purchased in its store, or you can sign up for one of our classes online or over the phone. In your class you will learn the ins and outs of your machine at a comfortable pace. Able to learn on your own? Read through the manual. Modern machine manuals tend to be very user-friendly and often explain things in layman’s terms so that when you are confused by a certain setting, you can check the manual and it will help.

3. Choose a starter project Even if your end goal is to recreate Marie Antoinette’s most elaborate gown, you have to start small. A pillow case, a zipper pencil pouch, a drawstring bag, or a rice heating pack can all be great starting projects. Most starting projects will have very few instructions and will be fairly self-explanatory. One of the main reasons new sewists quit sewing early is that they try to get too complicated too fast.

Play with your machine. Find some scrap fabric and sew some stitches with it, seeing how it feels pulling through the machine, what certain stitches look like on cotton vs. knit vs. heavier fabrics. Get comfortable with your machine and find out all the cool things it can do, then use those features to your advantage later on when you have a more complicated project to work on. Looking for tips? Check out our Sewing Know How Pinterest board for some informative articles and necessary knowledge.

4. Find a pattern While you may think you know how to make something as simple as a pillow case, it is always a good idea to have a pattern available – even if only for visual reference. This will keep you from having a pillow case shaped like a triangle or a zipper pouch shaped like a blob.  You can find patterns from the major companies like McCall’s and Simplicity in most fabric stores (including Fabric Hut!)

There are also lots of independent pattern companies that sell downloadable PDF patterns. An easy way to find them is to search Google or Pinterest for the type of pattern you want like “leggings sewing pattern” or “elephant stuffed animal sewing pattern” or “baby quilt pattern.”

Read the directions on the pattern. Does something look funky? Are you unsure what the numbers and letters on the back of the pattern mean? Ask questions! We get questions about patterns all the time and we are more than happy to answer them when you bring them in.

5. Dive In!

Double check before you cut. Make sure the pattern is laying the right way. Check the directions again as you go. Stitch slowly so you can control your fabric. Make sure to trim and tuck in all your threads when you’re done!

6. Be easy on yourself. When a kid learns to do something new, they don’t care if they’re perfect the first time, they know they’re learning. You are too! Sewing is a skill that takes practice. Don’t give up if you finish your first thing and think it looks bad. It was a learning experience, and I bet you’ll have figured out at least one thing to do next time and one thing NOT to do.

7. Find a community. Getting in touch with other people that sew is so beneficial.  If none of your friends or family members sew, see if your area has a local chapter of the American Sewing Guild or find out if there’s an “open sew” time somewhere near you. Online there are many Facebook groups devoted to different kinds of sewing and plenty of Youtube tutorials (check out our partner Dad Sews!). There are also sites like Textillia and Craftster with forums. Even Instagram is a great resource – follow hashtags like #sewing, #quilting, and #sewingtutorial.

Here at Fabric Hut we have our classroom open on Wednesday for open sewing time (bring your machine!) and host American Sewing Guild chapters once a month. Interested in forming your own group to meet here? Drop us a line and let’s get something started!

Learning to sew opens up new worlds for people. Have fun! Experiment! The possibilities of fabric combinations and techniques are endless!

Have more suggestions for communities, tools and resources? Let us know in the comments!

Want to find a sewing class at Fabric Hut or buy some supplies? Check out our inventory at http://www.fabrichut.com

[unholyhelbiglinked]

For Better Or Worse | 004

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START

The high-pitched sound echoed against the bare walls, it’s noise utterly defined as it bounced off every surface in the house. Each interval made my stomach tighten in an unexplainable fear. Part of my frozen as a dryness found a way to my mouth.

I ached more than anything, shivering against the terror that had made itself known in one fail sweep. My fingers were numb, it seemed, as I quickly shut the oven off, bringing the closest magazine towards the fire alarm as I tried to swat the accumulating smoke away.

This oven had never been a friend of mine. It would heat up quickly, whatever food that dared be placed on its stone stage was soon to be char if you didn’t keep a good eye on it. My patience was something that wavered constantly and stepping away for a moment proved fatal.

A deep haze filled the living room and kitchen as I rushed to push the patio door open. The sweat that had collected against my collarbone and beaded flush near my forehead instantly cooled. It was a refreshing breath, the sun just beginning to peak out over the edge of a darkened horizon. My heart was pounding roughly against the inside of my stomach, right where that dreaded pain first originated. It was the memory. That dreaded sound. It brought back a lot.

The next sound of a slight whimper caused me to snap my gaze up, eyes struggling to find a place as I turned towards the little hallway that was lit by nothing but a golden bulb. I wasn’t used to the noise. Addy was hard to stir from bed on any given day, her fingers shaking as knuckles turned white. She clung to the wall like she clung to me.

“Oh, Addy” I whispered, kneeling down in front of her. She was crying, the tears dripping unevenly off her chin as it soaked into her nightshirt. She held a little-stuffed cow in one arm, squeezing it tightly as if her life depended on it. That thing had been stitched up more times than I could count. I had washed it over and over again until the scent of soap overpowered that of ash.

I cupped my hand gently behind her neck, my touch subtle as I brushed the tears away from her flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry that woke you up, I was trying to cook breakfast.”

Nothing.

“I know it must have been scary, huh? Much worse than an alarm clock.”

Addison had been stirred from sleep that fateful night. I was never sure if it was because of the flames that eventually licked at her rich mahogany door, or the fact that the alarms had been blaring like they were a few moments ago. It was the smoke for me- the smoke that billowed against a deep inky sky. I could see it from miles away- before I even got back to the house. I had run past the threshold willingly, but Addison? She was in the pit of it.

The tiny girl pressed into my touch, a small smile tugging at my lips as I tried to lighten the mood. I pulled her closer, breathing in her sweet scent as I held her near, the girl burying her head against the nave of my neck as that stupid stuffed animal created an uncomfortable block between the two of us.

“McDonald’s sounds really good right now,” I mumbled, knowing that the bacon that had been reduced to char was the last of the supplies I had until I could get back to the store. It was a lost cause at this point, even I didn’t want to try my hand at frying up more food- my adrenaline admittedly still pumping out like pheromones. When I pulled away the girl was beaming. “Alright then, I’ll take that as a yes.”

I stood, letting out a small groan as I pushed her towards her room, trusting the six-year-old to dress, my own concern lying with the charred pot that I had to soak in a mix of detergent and warm water for a few hours.

I placed it easily in the half-full sink, cringing away from the scent of burnt fat and meat. It turned me off to the idea of bacon completely, but my stomach still yearned for some type of food. The greasy clutches of a burger place would do the trick now, the drive over there on my mind as my phone buzzed against the dining room table. It lit up the dark area, my fingers grasping the warm device.

DEMON BITCH(6:59AM):

Don’t forget, we have some stuff to talk about today.

BECA(7:03AM):

How could I possibly forget? You felt the need to remind me this early, so it must be important.

DEMON BITCH(7:04AM):

Play nice… I’ll see you at nine.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes bitterly as I palmed my keys, waiting for my little sister to finally emerge from the clutches of her room. She still continued to clutch that little farm animal of hers. I drew in a short breath, contemplating objecting. She was still shaken, so I held my tongue, instead, I reached my hand out- her little fingers tracing the edge of a scar that could never be forgotten as I pulled her back to the car.

An ocean breeze licked coolly against the edge of my chest, the weather warming enough to allow me to pull the hem of my shirt over my head- a deep black sports bra the only thing keeping me from diving into the looming ocean down below the docks.

“No, I understand that,” I mumbled, one foot resting lazily on the edge of the port side as I let out a struggled breath. The sun was beating against my bare skin, a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants threatening to dip past my waistline. “I was told that the keel would be in by the 27th.”

The man on the other end of the conversation was slowly pulling at my nerves. He was just doing his job- his words muffled by the background noise of another employee dealing with a disgruntled customer. The urge to fight against his words was a strong one- but I had been on the other end of some of these calls, knowing that the messenger was never to be shot.

I pulled my foot down from the edge of the Poseidon, it’s hull shifting as the driftwood creaked and groaned under my weight. “Well, I can’t very much sail her without the part.” My voice was deep, close to a growl that I knew he couldn’t pick up on.

He rambled on for a few more seconds as I pressed the heel of my hand against my hairline. A thick layer of sweat was covering almost every edge of my body- the seagulls starting to stir from their brief slumber as the sun made its presence more than clear.

I eventually hung up, shaking my head as I mumbled a few profanities. Haven was a tiny town that one had to dig for on the map- getting stuff shipped here from larger companies had always proven difficult. But I was given a time limit from the Mayor, one that I could barely meet as it was.

“You have a customer service voice?”

“Huh?” I sniffed, lowering my aching arm as I turned my back to the ocean. It was something that my father had taught me. Never turn your back on a fight or the sea. They both had the same amount of gust when it came to persistence. In this case, I knew I would be turning away from one and into another.

Chloe.

She was dressed in a loose-fitting t-shirt and jeans, something I didn’t know the girl even owned. Even with the baggy clothing her figure was strong and defined- the way she carried herself enticing in its own right. The thoughts of getting a chance to pull those very clothes off of her exited my mind as soon as it entered. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it.

The girl that I looked over at, however, had her eyes glued to me. Those deep and mysterious eyes that scanned me from top to bottom. I couldn’t help the heat that rose to my cheeks as I realized how naked I actually was, my fingers searching for the soft cotton shirt that was next to me.

“Your voice,” She spoke finally pulling her gaze up to mine. “It changes when you’re having a conversation on the phone.”

“Oh.” I pulled my shirt over my shoulders, not bothering to readjust it. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“People usually don’t.”

I nodded absently, this was the first time that she had spoken to me without sending an insult or two my way. It was odd, seeing how calm she was. I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the overpowering sun or the early morning hours. I swallowed roughly, outreaching my palm towards the girl. She eyed is suspiciously.

“You want me to get on there?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow condescendingly. It was nice while it lasted.

“Unless you’d rather crack a cold one with John down the docks, then I don’t see any other option.”

She knit her eyebrows, glancing down at the man who had already started day drinking long before I got here. She was actually considering listening to an old seaman spin fake tales of krakens and islands that were forged from a fire. Instead, Chloe let out a deep breath and eventually laced her fingers with mine, allowing me to pull her towards the middle of the boat.

The edge of her boot got caught on the edge, a small yelp moving past her lips as she clutched frantically at my shirt- her fingers wrapping roughly against the fabric. I winced as they dug into my sides, cheek resting near my chest as she panted. I didn’t make much effort to clutch onto her, instead, I just stood- an amused look on my face.

“Ask me on a date first, Beale.” I chuckled, the sound vibrating from my chest as she lifted her gaze to mine, still pressed flush against me. She quickly let out a rough growl and shoved me away, shaking her own head to clear it, this time.

“Fuck off, Mitchell.” Was all she said, clearly rattled by the way the boat moved with the waves. The ocean was not for everyone and part of me had a feeling that Chloe was one of those people. Instead of fighting her I shook my head and walked towards the small structure that protruded from the inside of the ship.

It held a steering wheel and a few other controls, but more importantly, it was cooler than the rest of the ship, a little living area rested behind a door that I quickly pushed open- the salty scent of the sea filling my lungs. It burned but in the best way possible.

There wasn’t much space, two bunk beds chained to the left side of the room while a table and chairs attached to the wall reminded me more of an RV than a vessel that we had built back up and nursed to health. She was almost done- a few technical parts before we could trust her back out in the Pacific.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Chloe griped, taking the last step into the little area. I rolled my eyes as if she could see. My hands reaching towards the mini fridge that Jesse and I had hooked up during our long nights here. I pulled water from the brightly lit cabinet, offering one to the red-head that she quickly denied.

“It’s not mine.” I let out a small sigh, leaning on the edge of the table as I cracked open the water. “It’s the towns. We pulled it from a wreak a few months ago.”

“Oh?” She knit her eyebrows together, seemingly interested. “Was the owner okay?”

“I don’t suppose so.” I lifted the bottle to my lips, watching her eyes shift against the room as I let the icy liquid drip down my throat and chin. “We pulled it a while ago but it sunk in the 60’s.”

“It seems so sturdy.” She mumbled to herself, shifting her weight from one foot to another as I watched her carefully. It was odd- seeing her once again consumed by the environment of a place instead of making my life a living, but capable, hell.

“Boats sink, Chlo,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes the ocean just wins.”

“Right,” She squared her shoulders, snapping out of her stance as she sent me a deep glare. “That’s enough of that. “Now, about this bridal party”    

[A/N: Wow, some niceness! We'll see how long it lasts]

[trekkingski]

Why would you buy an Archaeopteryx hiking jacket?

Archaeopteryx Jacket, Super Lightweight Jacket Arc’teryx Beta LT Real Wear Experience Sharing Speaking of Archaeopteryx, it should be one of the outdoor mountaineering brands that every outdoor enthusiast wants to start with, and I am no exception!

Why would you buy an Archaeopteryx hiking jacket? When I first started climbing, I started with the cheap and beautiful Mont-bell jacket. As the mountain climbs higher and higher, the climate on the mountain becomes more and more complicated, and the terrain becomes more and more complicated. I gradually feel the wind resistance and wear resistance of the Montbell jacket, plus the waterproof ability of Gore-tex. It became worse over time. I happened to see Archaeopteryx jackets at 40% off when I was visiting Moosejaw. I always wanted to wear Kanbird jackets, so I bought my life’s first Arc'teryx Beta AR on the online shopping service website. . Beta LT is my second Archaeopteryx windproof jacket. The reason I would buy the second Archaeopteryx jacket is that sometimes the altitude is not that high. Walking in Arc'teryx Beta AR will feel too hot, and feel too cold without wearing it. In addition, it is relatively heavy and not very convenient to put on and take off. It is not suitable for lightweight mountaineering trips. Therefore, I considered starting with a lightweight windproof jacket. At that time, I chose Beta LT because it weighs only 315 grams. Very light. The next article will share the details and functions, advantages and disadvantages of Arc’teryx Beta LT, as well as my experience and evaluation. Arc'teryx Archaeopteryx brand introduction Founded in Vancouver, Canada in 1989, its headquarters, design studio, and main production line are still in Vancouver. Due to its almost crazy pursuit of new crafts and new technologies, in just a dozen years, it has grown into a recognized North American and even global leading outdoor brand, with good products in the field of clothing and backpacks. Arc'teryx's product line today still only involves outdoor clothing, backpacks and climbing gear. Due to Arc'teryx's almost crazy pursuit of new technology and new craftsmanship, as well as the emphasis on product design and workmanship, Arc'teryx was quickly recognized as one of the most high-end outdoor brands, and it also brought usually expensive prices. . Almost every piece of Arc'teryx products can be described as works of art, and the garments have perfect functions and excellent details, giving outdoor users a full experience and perfect protection. Beta LT details and function introduction Jacket material Using GORE-TEX® Pro three-layer fabric and DWR long-lasting waterproof treatment, it has the characteristics of water repellency, breathability and wear resistance.

Hood design Using the COHAESIVE® adjustment system, the circular adjuster is hidden in the hood, while maintaining a minimalist appearance, you can easily press the adjuster to adjust the size of the hat even with gloves.

The brim of the hat is stiffer through the laminated design, and it has a function similar to a small hat, which can withstand light rain.

cuff The cuffs have a Velcro design for easy adjustment of the cuff size. pocket The outer pocket uses WaterTight and RS zipper pullers, which are highly water resistant but not completely waterproof. Try not to put things that are damaged by moisture in your pockets.

There is a pocket on the inside of the chest, which can store valuable items such as mobile phones and wallets

Internal design of the jacket

The internal stitching part is matched with an ultra-fine 8mm waterproof strip to prevent moisture from penetrating. Hem The adjustable drawstring is hidden on the inner edge of the hem, which can prevent cold wind from blowing in with a simple pull.

Measured experience ㄧ、Climate protection The first time I wore Arc'teryx Beta LT was to climb the mountain at the end of December 2019. At first, the sun was very big, and Beta LT did not feel stuffy and hot, but rather breathable and comfortable, and it also provided sun protection. It suddenly started to drizzle. In order to test the waterproofing ability of Gore-tex pro, I walked all the way with rain. During the process, I still occasionally patted the water drops on the jacket. It took more than three hours to reach the destination. The surface of the jacket was a little wet, but the inside was completely dry. It proves that its water repellency is not bad, but it still cannot completely replace the waterproof function of raincoats. However, because the Beta LT material is thinner, the wind and cold resistance are not as strong as the orange Alpha SV, but the advantage of this is that it is usually suitable for wearing in urban areas. I usually wear Beta LT to protect myself from the wind when I ride to and from get off work. There are devil felts on the cuffs to quickly adjust the size at red light to prevent wind from entering from the sleeves. The height of the neckline is just right for me to retract my face to block the wind. It is windproof and has sufficient air permeability, and the breath from the mouth will not cause the glasses to fog.

2. Breathability The three-layer Gore-tex waterproof outer layer of the Beta LT jacket is composed of a thinner 40D fabric. Even if you sweat a lot during walking, it will not be stuffy inside. The air permeability is good. However, Beta LT does not have a zipper design under the armpits, so if you go to the humid mountainous area for a long time, it will still be a bit stuffy. You need to unzip the front zipper to prevent the sweat from being stuffy. In fact, the jackets of the minimalist series of Archaeopteryx are all designed without underarm zippers (except Beta SL Hybrid). This is to make the weight lighter and the storage volume smaller. Therefore, Beta LT may not be a good choice for people who sweat easily and want higher air permeability. You can consider the Beta AR series with underarm zippers. 3. Weight and storage The 'LT' of Beta LT is the abbreviation of Lightweight, and it is truly light! The male model weighs 345g, while the female model is lighter only 315g. Beta LT series can be said to be the lightest Gortex pro jacket on the market. Another lighter Gortex pro option is Arc'teryx Alpha FL. The male model weighs 315g and the female model weighs only 295g, but this jacket only has one The chest pocket is more suitable for rock climbers than mountaineers.

The actual weight is lighter, only 309g! Beta LT does not have an extra storage bag, nor is it designed to fit into the chest pocket like the Cerium SV series. But it still belongs to a jacket that can be stored. The jacket can be easily rolled into the hood, and the elastic band can be tightened to make the jacket smaller, so that it can be easily put into the mesh pockets on both sides of the hiking backpack. Although it is not possible to buckle the Beta LT on the backpack, but regarding its weight and size, I feel that there is nothing to be wary of.

The stored size is just right on both sides of the backpack, and it can be quickly taken. Fourth, durability In order to reduce weight, the outerwear usually sacrifices durability. Beta LT uses relatively light and thin 40D fabric, but its durability and scratch resistance are still sufficient. When I used my hands and feet to climb a rock several times before, I could feel the coat rubbing against the rock, but I haven't seen any scratches or scratches after using it.

If you have sharp equipment (for example: trekking poles) or want a more scratch-resistant coat, you can consider the more wear-resistant 80D Beta AR or 100D Alpha SV series. The quality of the Archaeopteryx hard shell jacket is really good, and the feeling of wearing it can only be described as very comfortable and very safe. There are also many thoughtful designs, such as the use of a more comfortable suede fabric around the neck, a waterproof tape on the stitching part, and the use of a relatively strong material on the edge of the hat to avoid hanging down and obscuring the line of sight. advantage 1. Lightweight The weight is only more than 300 grams, no matter whether it is worn on the body or in a backpack, it does not feel any additional weight burden. 2. Waterproof It can withstand short-term light rain and the dew of the sword bamboo forest, but if it is exposed to rain for a long time, the surface of the coat will still seep and it cannot completely replace the raincoat. 3. Good wind resistance Beta LT's cuff Velcro, hem necking and proper neckline height are enough to withstand the cold wind blowing in when riding a motorcycle in winter. 4. Small storage volume The size of the hood after being stowed into the hood is about the same as a water bottle, and it can be easily put into the backpack without taking up too much space. 5. Convenient storage in pockets The pockets on both sides are really big and can hold a lot of things. The chest pocket can also hold more personal items (mobile phones, change), and the zipper can be pulled up to prevent things from falling out. 6. Retouch your figure The hem of the Beta LT jacket for women is slightly lengthened to modify the body shape and provide more complete protection. 7. The colors are bright and beautiful The color of the outer layer is to be brightly photographed to look good! Archaeopteryx also took this into consideration, so the colors provided are all eye-catching and easy to shoot. Disadvantage 1. Expensive Archaeopteryx's coat is really not cheap, but its quality, functionality, durability and subsequent service warranty are definitely worth the price. 2. Light color is easy to get dirty If you buy a brighter coat (like I bought fluorescent yellow), the stain will be more obvious and it may not be washable. 3. More difficult The cut of the Archaeopteryx is really three-dimensional, so when storing, you may feel that the coat is not evenly laid and it is a bit difficult to fold. 4. No underarm zipper design Because the main feature is light weight and convenient storage, the zipper design under the arms is omitted. But because of the high air permeability, I think it is acceptable without underarm zippers. to sum up Overall, Beta LT is my favorite jacket right now. Strong wind resistance, suitable for cycling to and from get off work, light weight, suitable for running in the park at night. The minimalist design does not feel obtrusive in urban activities, convenient storage, waterproof, wear-resistant and other characteristics are very suitable for holiday climbing. It's very versatile, which is why I wear it almost every day. When the weather is hot, I wear a short sleeve and put on Beta LT, which can protect the sun at the same time without feeling very stuffy. When the weather is cold, the Beta LT jacket has enough space for me to add a thicker middle layer to keep me warm. Beta LT is mainly designed for lightweight mountaineering and trekking activities. It is inevitable that it may not be functional or functional. At this time, it can be matched with other products of Archaeopteryx to complement each other and make climbing more comfortable. Here are several options for reference: For a lighter jacket, you can refer to the Beta SL series For more comprehensive functionality, you can refer to Beta AR series If you want stronger protection to adapt to extreme weather, you can refer to the Beta SV series The above are the advantages and disadvantages of Archaeopteryx Beta LT and the evaluation of actual wear!

[reivenesque]

Cindereva CH6

« Read previous

Chapter 6: The Fair and a Maiden

They fall into something of a routine after Eva starts working again and Chris is slowly but surely regaining his health and his strength. Over the next couple of days, Eva would wake up, by this point Chris had insisted that she continue sleeping across the width near the foot of the bed, where she’d slept that first time after a week of trying to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden chairs, while he’d sleep in a similar position near the headboard. It left his legs hanging off the edge but he was adamant that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. It meant that Eva would get to sleep in her own bed, while still getting her way and not allowing Chris to sleep anywhere other than the bed and it still left a respectable distance between them.

Usually Chris would already be up by the time Eva awakens; he’d be staring out the window into the canopy of trees behind the cottage, or he’d be walking around the small space, looking at the few knick-knacks Eva had collected, decorating her home.

But sometimes Eva would wake up to find Chris sitting up with his back against the headboard, silently watching her while she slept. That was one thing that always left her a blushing mess, and she noticed with a hint of annoyance that her embarrassment would only cause him to grin one of his small lopsided grins that she never grew tired of seeing.

Eva would fix up breakfast for the two of them, and leave out some bread and cheese, or whenever she’d go into town and bring back pie, for Chris in case he got hungry. And then she’d leave, walking down the path away from her cottage, forcing herself to not look back and see Chris’s figure standing by the door, staring at her back as she was walking away. She tried not to smile, but fails every single time.

Nearing the end of the working week, after she’d been back at work for about four days, she reaches her cottage and notices with some confusion that the clothes she’d hung out to dry that morning was absent from the clothes line.

She enters; the question as her lips but before she can verbalize it she immediately notices all her clothes folded and stacked neatly on the dinner table and Chris standing by the sink putting away the dishes.

“Welcome back,” he greets when she enters, turning around to face her.

“Um—thank you,” Eva stutters out, looking between her clothes and Chris. “Did you take my in laundry? You really didn’t have to.”

“I needed to do something,” he said, “And it’s really nothing, compared to everything you’ve done for me this whole time.”

Eva smiles at that and places her basket aside, pulling off her red hood and unlatching the clasp, sliding it off her shoulders but before she can reach to place it over the back of the chair in front of her, Chris has walked over and taken it out of her grasp, hanging it up on the hook behind the door where she usually hung it.

Eva tries not to grin too wide, brushing a couple of free strands of hair behind her ear.

“Chris,” she starts, calling his name as she pulls a chair out and takes seat. He turns around immediately and hmms a soft inquiring sound. “Are you…are you okay—with being here? I mean, you’ve been stuck in this small cottage for almost two weeks and—and I was wondering if you were not bored?”

He walks on over and pulls out the chair across from her, looking at her intently. “Where I’m from, having time to be bored is something of a luxury,” he says as a matter-of-factly.

And Eva lets out a small disappointed oh despite herself.

“Why?” he asks, after gouging her reaction. She can tell that he felt guilty about his response. “Did you want to do something?”

“No…I mean—it’s nothing important, I was just concerned that you getting tired of being stuck in doors for so long.”

It isn’t the complete truth and Eva knows Chris can tell even though she isn’t currently looking at him.

“If it’s something you want to do, then it is important,” he says, and once again Eva is left absolutely stunned by his ability to make her feel so valuable with so few words.

Eva starts picking at the wooden surface of the table in front of her with her fingernail, her eyes downcast. “It’s a…it’s nothing really, just…there’s going to be a festival—in town, to celebrate it turning a hundred this year. They’re throwing a big celebration with fireworks and games and Noora and the girls invited me to go, but I was wondering whether you’d like to come along too—you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she adds immediately.

Eva hates the way her heart starts pounding in her chest, as if everything is riding on Chris’s answer to the question—which it truthfully really does. She really wanted to go with him. She knows there are risks and she knows danger is still lurking outside, threatening not only Chris, but her own safety as well. But on the other hand, she wants to take him out; she wants to show him the beauty of her home outside these walls. She wants to show him all the foods they have to offer and the beauty of life outside of war, because she can tell that he hasn’t seen much of it in his life.

But most of all, she wants to be there to experience all of that with him.

“Okay,” he says suddenly and Eva isn’t paying attention that she almost misses hearing his answer. She looks up just in time to hear him say the words “I would love to go to the festival with you.”

And Eva’s smile is beaming.

The whole of the next day Eva spends in a haze, not like the haze she found herself in the day Chris first woke up after she’d carried him home; but the kind of nostalgic happiness that surrounded her like an aura. She couldn’t stop smiling at everything and anything; at the gardener watering the plants and the cooks preparing the meals for the Count and his family and the disgruntled housekeeper whose frown only deepened seeing Eva’s wide smile.

She ran into the Count only once the whole day, as he was walking out to go meet his business partners at the castle. She smiled wide and curtseyed as she was passing him and skipped off before he could even word out a greeting in return.

She’d brought along a change of clothes with her when she left that morning so she could get ready before going to the house to meet Chris and the could walk together to the festival.  It was her favourite light yellow dress with golden embroidery and a sprinkling of small white flowers cross-stitched across the hem. The bodice was snug on her upper body, the collar wide showing off most of her neck and reaching halfway across her shoulders, but flared out from the mid waist area into a long skirt that reached the ground. The sleeves were long and fitted which widened slightly at the edge where it reached her knuckles. It was one of her most fancy dresses that she only brought out for special occasions; occasions that come few and far in between in her life which is why she found herself getting more excited that she really wanted to show outright. Instead of the messy knot she usually did her hair in, she braided her long hair in a neat plait that reached down to the small of her back.

She finished getting ready just after her working hours came to an end but left the clothes she came in that day in her basket in the servants quarters.

Her heart was beating up a storm in her chest when she says goodbye to the staff as she made her way out, eager to get back to her cottage to see Chris.

Stepping out into the fresh air, the gravel road crunching under her feet, Eva takes a moment to just breathe, keeping her eyes closed and trying not to smile too widely at nothing and make everyone think that she’d lost her mind.

She reached the junction at the end of the road leading away from the Count’s mansion and was about to turn right to head back to her cottage to meet Chris when a figure in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning her head to look in the direction, it takes Eva an additional few seconds to realize what she’s actually looking at.

It’s Chris.

He’s dressed in the fine, loose white tunic that Noora had brought over the other day that reached down to his hip and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with an engraved leather belt knotted off just to the left side of his stomach over a pair of fitted leather pants. Only the boots belonged to him. He’s cleaned up and combed his dark hair back off his forehead and Eva wouldn’t have been ashamed to admit that he looked really, really good.

He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning casually against a tree across the road looking at her. Eva doesn’t think she imagined the smirk that came to his face when he notices her expression.

“I thought I was supposed to meet you at home,” Eva asks as she walks over, Chris having pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against meeting her half way.

“I wouldn’t let you walk all the way back on my account,” he says, his eyes looking her up and down. “You look…beautiful, Eva,” he says so seriously and so earnestly, causing Eva to blush three different shades of red.

Eva laughs sheepishly at the compliment. “Thank you…you too, Chris—You look really good too.”

“Thank you,” he says, with much less embarrassment that Eva was displaying. “So, are you ready?”

Eva can only nod and both begin their walk towards the town. Even from the distance they could already hear the sound of music and merriment and the boisterous laughter ringing out. Eva notices that Chris is still limping slightly beside her but he’s trying not to show it too obviously; Eva doesn’t think anyone else would even notice but she’s become so in tuned to everything Chris that she would not have missed it. The bruising on his face had lessened, but it is still a nasty shade of mottled purple and yellow and the vertical and horizontal scars running across his cheekbone and his forehead are still very noticeable. But Eva walks into that town with Chris at her side with pride. She can feel the heat of people’s eyes on them from the moment they enter, but she pointedly keeps her eyes averted, looking at Chris instead. Chris on the other hand is making a very good show of not surveying his surroundings so obviously, but Eva can tell he was looking at everyone and everything that passes his eyes and analysing it critically.

Eva doesn’t know the person he was before he stumbled across her in the forest that night, but she can tell that she must have been quite a soldier, his body language shows it.

After being so long confined to the small cottage with her and her animals as his only companion, being in the presence of this many people in such an enclosed space was obviously getting to Chris. She could see the way his eyes were darting around vigilantly and the way his hand keeps reaching for an imaginary object at his side. Slowly, Eva reaches over and hesitantly wraps her hand around his wrist without startling him too much, but enough to attract his attention to her.

“Are you alright?” she asks. “We can leave if—”

“I’m alright, don’t worry. I want you to have fun tonight,” he says sincerely.

“But I don’t what you—”

“It’s not about me, it’s about you,” he says and Eva is completely mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes.

Her gaze is abruptly averted by the impact of another body barrelling into her, almost throwing her off balance. She feels the impact before she hears the voice yelling “Eva! You came!” almost into her ear.

“Yes, I came, Christina. Can you let go of me now?” she says with a laugh.

She hears the rest of the girl running up calling her name just as Christina relinquishes her grip, allowing Eva to finally turn around to face them.

“We didn’t think you were coming,” Vilde says when she approaches.

“I wasn’t going to…” she says, watching as Sana and Noora both approach, smiling. Seeing Noora reminded her of her escort standing to the side, out of the way and Eva quickly motions to him with an outstretched hand. “You girls remember Chris? My uhh—cousin.”

“Ladies,” Chris greets respectfully as he takes a step closer, giving a small bow with his hands clasped behind his back.

Vilde immediately starts giggling bashfully and Christina actually looks at him up and down with her mouth wide open. Even Sana takes a moment when she walks up to just appraise him appreciatively.

Eva can’t blame then. She herself wasn’t ashamed to admit that it took all of her will power not to stare at him so openly when she first saw him and during the entire walk over.

Only Noora keeps her wits about her, only chuckling softly when she steps up next to Eva. “You clean up really well, Chris,” she says and Eva notices the small smirk on Chris’s face after her comment.

“Thank you for the garments,” he says in response.

“Noora.”

The sound of the male voice calling Noora’s name makes Eva jump a little and she immediately looks towards Chris to see his reaction.

Chris looks unperturbed on the surface but Eva can see the way his frown deepens as the figure walks up into their small circle. Eva immediately puts herself between Chris and the newly arrived figure of William.

William comes from one of the richest families in town, the Magnussons. He was Noora’s childhood sweetheart, turned fiancé. Eva doesn’t know him all that well outside that fact, all her really knows is that Noora is completely infatuated with him and from the little interactions she’s had with him in the past, she could tell that he was too.

“Girls,” he greets when he steps up, circling an arm around Noora’s waist and pulling her close to his side.

The collective greeting in response rings out before Eva finds William’s focus on Chris standing behind her.

“William,” Noora says quickly, half turning to place her hand on his chest and motioning to Chris with her other, “This is Eva’s cousin, Chris. He recent returned from seafaring and has been staying with her for a while.”

Eva locks eyes with Noora nervously after she finishes when William doesn’t immediately avert his gaze. But after a moment, he nods and offers a hand out to Chris.

It takes Chris about the same amount of time after psyching up the other man in front of him to grasp the offered hand with a monotone,  “Chris,” to which William replies with an equally monotonous, “William.”

Eva tries not exhale in relief outright when the tension that was brewing in the air immediately dissipates as William turns his attention back to Noora and paying Chris absolutely no mind after that.

“So what do you want to do?” Christina asks the group. “The tavern’s closed today so my evening is completely free. I am going to get so drunk tonight, I thought I’d just let you all know that in advance.”

“Umm, I promised to meet Magnus in front of his father’s stall actually,” Vilde says.

“I only have a few hours free before I have to go and relieve Elias of duty. We’re splitting shifts at the shop today,” Sana says.

“No one has to ask what Noora and William will be up to come midnight,” Christina adds with a wink at the two standing embracing on the side.

“What about you, Eva? What are you and Chris going to do?” Noora asks from her comfortable position in William’s protective arms.

Eva looks at Chris who just stares back before turning her eyes back to Noora. “I think I’m just going to show Chris around the festival; all the food and the lights. He’s been on the seas for a very long time; he hasn’t seen some of these things in a while.”

“Should we meet up somewhere after and watch the fireworks together?” Vilde asks.

“Yes,” Noora says, “We should do that.”

“I’m alright with that,” Christina says. “Sana? You said you had to go back to the shop?”

“It’s fine. Elias will live if I’m a little late. I’m sure he has the boys over anyway,” Sana says.

“Eva?” Noora asks, turning to look at her.

Eva exchanges a look with Chris, who doesn’t convey any sort of protest to the suggestion. “Alright, that sounds like a great idea.”

“Well okay then,” Christina says, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “The guys better watch out. I heard they’re having a drinking contest out by the barber’s shop.” She’s already half turning when she raises a hand up to wave farewell. “See you girls later.”

And with that they all separate, heading their ways; Noora walking hand in hand with William up the street, Vilde latching onto Sana as they head in the same direction but on the opposite side, making their way towards where the old baker had set up his small stall alongside all the other little wooden pop up shops on the side of the street in either direction of the road they were standing on.

Eventually it’s only Eva and Chris left standing among the increasing amount of people milling about the festival.

The sun had begun setting in the horizon and the little candles in the cured paper lanterns were slowly being lit all along the rows of stalls from where they were standing at the entrance of the town, all the way to the other end.

Eva looks at Chris surveying the surroundings with cautious interest. “A festival is a time when everyone is allowed to open up business to sell their little homemade trinkets and home baked cakes and their knitted mittens and socks; it’s a time to make a little extra business on the side as well as socializing and having fun,” Eva tells him. The moment she started speaking, she could see him turning his full attention on her and listened to her speak with interest.

Eva turns and beckons him to walk with her as they slowly make their way up the street, watching the town’s women dressed in their fanciest clothes with their done up hair with sparkly pins and their poshest barrettes and their best jewellery, conversing and laughing with each other. Eva notices the way people’s eyes would fall on her and Chris as they pass, but she doesn’t call attention to it or point it out. She just watches their eyes out of the corner of her own and she knows that Chris can sense it too but he doesn’t react.

They stop occasionally for Eva to point out something or to explain something about what that particular seller had on display. Chris hangs on to her every word and even though he hasn’t said anything since he introduced himself to William, Eva doesn’t feel like she’s engaged in a one sided conversation. Chris looks absolutely enthralled by everything in front of him. She’d catch his gaze on her from time to time, but would pretend not to notice it even though he wasn’t being discreet in his staring.

They reach a point about one-thirds of the way through the festival when a scent catches Eva’s attention and she turns excitedly towards him; unable to explain what had gotten her so excited, she latches onto his wrist and pulls him in the direction where the scent was originating from.

The old baker greets Eva with a wide grin when he notices her approach.

“Eva,” he greets happily. “I’m glad to see you here,” he says as she steps up in front of his stall, the wooden display on his stall filled to the brim with all kinds of still hot confectionary, from pies to cakes, to baked bread in all different shapes and sizes and little custard tarts topped with a variety of fresh berries.

“Good evening, Mister Fossbakken,” Eva replies. “How is your business fairing today?”

“Very well, my dear,” he says happily. “And who is this handsome gentleman you’re with tonight?” he asks, looking at Chris at Eva’s side, who’s staring at the assortment of pastries with a look that’s a mixture of surprise and wonderment.

“This is Chris,” Eva introduces, motioning to him with a hand. “He’s my father’s nephew came to visit.”

“Good evening sir,” he greets, like with the girls earlier, with a small respectful bow and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Very polite,” the old man says in an approving tone and a small nod, “You must teach Magnus some of those manners,” he adds before he turns back to Eva. “Well, what will you be having today, my dear?” he asks, motioning to the pastries spread out in front of him with both hands.

Eva exhales once while trying to pick. She looks at Chris to ask what he wanted, but he just shrugs nonchalantly and has her pick whatever she wanted instead. In the end she settles on a few of the fruit tarts and some of the small braided breads and muffins.

Eva reaches into her small coin pouch that she had hanging off her wrist to get money she’d saved up especially for the festival as the old baker wraps up her choices, but when she moves to hand him the payment, he puts his palm gently on her hand holding out the coins, a small smile on his face as he hands the paper wrapped pastries to Chris.

“Your money is of no value here, Eva,” he says seriously though the smile never leaves his face.

“But—”

“No buts, now run along you two, before I have to break out the broom to shoo your off.”

Eva frowns slightly at him before he motions with his hand, shooing her off.

“I will pay you yet, Mister Fossbakken,” she yells behind her as she’s walking away, but the man just pretends that he didn’t hear her.

“Does that happen often?” Chris asks her when they’re a good distance away.

Eva turns to look at him. “Hmm? Oh…not really, no. Mister Fossbakken is just…too kind,” she says.

“It’s not kindness that isn’t undeserving though,” he says seriously and once again Eva is left speechless.

“How do you do that?” she asks him after a while; they’re walking in step with each other watching parents and their children on the side engaging in some of the games that had been set up along the road.

“Do what?” he asks, confused.

“Say things like that—things that…things that leave me at a complete loss for words?”

“Does it?” he asks, genuinely curious. “I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No—no, it’s not that. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable,” she says quickly, looking him in the eye. After a beat, she continues, not breaking eye contact for even a second. “You don’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.”

Chris stares right back into her eyes and for once it doesn’t make her feel unnerved.

Until someone accidentally knocks into her and sends her stumbling into Chris’s arms. Chris’s narrowed eyes immediately looks around to find the offender as his hands hold Eva up against him by the shoulders. But before anything could happen, the man stutters out a nervous apology and bows a few times in pardon. Eva places a hand on Chris’s chest and looks up at him. “It’s okay, it was just an accident,” she tells him, but he doesn’t ease his grip immediately. He only lets go once the man’s friends have dragged him along and out of sight and he regards Eva intently.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

Eva shakes her head with a smile. “No, I’m not hurt. Although I may have flattened our tarts,” she says with a sheepish grin.

Chris lets out an unexpected chuckle, before a small relieved smile curls at his lips. “We will survive,” he says.

And that joke, that first hint of humour is enough to put a big smile on Eva’s face. “Would you like to try one? While it’s still fresh,” she says, opening the paper wrapping and pulling out a slightly misshapen, though still intact fruit tart.

“Only if you will,” he says and Eva’s already wide smile only grows.

“Alright,” she says, handing him a small tart and taking out one for herself. She makes a show of taking a bite of hers first, and watches as Chris slowly lifts it up to his lips, smelling it strangely before he takes a bite of all the different components of it, the custard, the shell and a section of the fruits arranged on top. Eva watches the way his face just changes with each chew, from the moment the combination of flavours reach his taste buds; the way his brows furrow slightly as his eyes focus on an invisible point on the ground, his brain going through so many different thoughts at that moment and to Eva it was like watching his experience the taste of pie for the very first time.

It was a beautiful sight that she would never forget for as long as she lived.

“Do you like it?” she asks when he finishes, licking the bits of crumb left on his index finger and thumb.

“Yes,” he says earnestly.

Eva immediately holds out her own partially eaten tart to him.  “Here, you can have mine.”

“That’s okay,” he says, “You have it.”

This time Eva stands her ground. “I want you to have it. I’m not that hungry anyway, so—please. Otherwise it will just go to waste,” she turns the most pitiful look she can muster at him.

He looks like he’s about to turn her down, but he sighs and takes the tart from her hand and finishes it for her; all while Eva just looks on happily at his delight.

They continue on their walk, Chris taking the wrapped up pasty from her hands and carrying it himself even though it really didn’t weigh anything at all. Eva just smiles at him and surprisingly, he reciprocates with a gorgeous smile of his own.

They pass by one of the games stalls that were the most packed section of the festival with a crowd of people hanging around, watching excitedly at whatever was taking place at the center. It piques Eva’s curiosity though Chris looks as disinterested as he usual does.

“What’s happening?” she asks one of the men standing in the rear looking over the heads of the people in front of him at whatever was happening a few feet away.

“Archery contest,” he says. “Two shillings to enter and you can win a stuffed bear. Besides one fellow who made the vicinity of the bullseyes once, no one’s won anything of worth,” he says with a boisterous laugh just as the crowd starts heading towards a cheer before immediately stopping and detouring into a disappointed groan. “Lots of people have won lots of grass though,” he says.

Eva gets up onto her tip toes to try and see over the sea of heads in front of her, but gives up after two tries. Instead she motions to Chris with a nod and both of them set off down the street where they were originally headed.

They pass by a small parting of the crowd where the last participant is making his disgraced exit when a voice in the center of the crowd starts calling out, “Sir! Sir!” Neither of them pay him any mind until he calls out, “You sir, with the beautiful lady in the yellow dress.”

This time Chris actually looks over to the source of the voice and Eva looks down to confirm the colour of her own dress. Chris, still holding the paper wrapped pastries in one hand has his arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly and his face devoid of expression but his eye focused intently on the man behind the barrier motioning for him to come closer.

“Win a prize for your gorgeous lady?” he says with a salesmen grin, holding up a fluffy white bear temptingly. “Only two shillings for five tries sir, one shilling for two,” he says. “Such a beautiful lady deserves a beautiful prize,” he adds to the cheers of people around, yelling out their support.

“No, thank you,” Chris says simply, with a shake of his head.

Eva turns to look at him. “If you want to try, I have spare shil—”

“I won’t take your money, Eva,” he says, and his voice is the most stern she’s ever heard it and it stuns her for a moment, though she doesn’t take it to heart. She just nods.

Chris doesn’t look back at the man as they turn to walk off, a disappointed groan passing through the crowd, until the man yells out again, this time with much more desperation.

“Sir! Sir! My lady, wait—How about this?” he says when Eva and Chris both stop and Chris reluctantly turns back to look at him with an annoyed sigh. “I will waive the fee, and give you two free tries? Same rules, same prize! The people here want entertainment tonight, and I will have them all entertained.”

The crowd cheers loudly.

Eva looks at Chris but he doesn’t look back, he’s staring intently at the man and at the bow on the counter in front of him and the bear in his hand and he looks like he’s actually considering it.

“Would you like the bear?” he asks, but he isn’t looking at her so it takes her a few seconds to realize that he was actually asking a question of her.

“Um, I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do,” she says.

He finally turns to look at her. “I don’t not want to do it,” he says and it takes Eva a moment to decipher what he’d said.

With an encouraging smile, she says, “Yes, I would love to have the bear,” and that was about as much motivation as he needed. He immediately uncrosses his arms and hands the pastries to Eva and makes his way through the parting in the now loudly cheering crowd, some people reaching over to pat him on the shoulder encouragingly as he passed. Eva trails after him as he walks over to the grinning man holding the bear in one hand and the bow in the other hand, handing it to Chris without word as he moves to step aside.

“The arrows, sir,” he motions to the five arrows lined up neatly on the counter with a wave of his hand. “You get two free attempts, but if you wish to finish up your remaining arrows, you will need to pay the one shilling. Hit any part on the target you will win this—” he shows off one of the small yellow bears he was holding, “—But if you hit the bullseye, you will win your lady friend this beautiful white bear—” he holds a much larger snow white bear, “—made from the finest materials the kingdom has to offer. I have only three of them with me, so will you count yourself among one of the lucky ones tonight?” he asks, looking at Eva then back at Chris with a teasing look.

The crowd in the back is in hysterics by this point, whooping and cheering and looking on in absolute excitement.

Chris on the other hand could not look any more relaxed as he takes the bow in his hand and runs his palm across the clean surface, though marred by bumps and scratches from being used by people with no experience or respect for the weapon; his eyes focused and intense.

The five hay stuffed targets are arranged in an even row about a hundred yards away across the empty lost and fixed onto the side of the opposite building, lanterns set up all around illuminating the area completely like it was day instead of night. The wall and the ground surrounding was littered with wayward arrows, some embedded into the walls and the surrounding trees, even sticking haphazardly out of the grass.

Eva comes to stand a few feet beside him, giving him room to prepare. He doesn’t look at her but she knows that he senses her there.

The crowd is still cheering at this point though they’re focused intently on the lone figure standing right at the center; Eva thinks that even they could sense that this wasn’t going to be like all the other tries before.

Chris tears his gaze away from assessing bow to look at the arrows laid out before him; he picks one up and holds it in front of him, checking the tip of the arrowhead with a critical eye all the way down to the feathers at the end. Eva watches him closely; she’s never seen him look this concentrated before and she immediately notices the moment he snaps out of his thoughts because the look in his eyes change to something she’s never seen before.

She sees him shifting the bow into his right hand, taking a stance with his right shoulder facing the target, his left foot slightly behind, firmly planted into the ground.

The crowd stops cheering when Chris moves and everyone watches closely as his hand holding the arrow moves to place it back on the counter.

But he doesn’t place the arrow back down; instead he picks up two additional arrows and nocks all three at once.

The wave of murmurs wash over the crowd, some whispering excitedly and a few scoffs ringing out from people who were rolling their eyes at what he was doing.

But Chris pays them no mind, he adjusts the arrows on the bow, all three at the same time, holding them between his four fingers and adjusting the distance between them. His eyes moving from the arrows to the targets laid up ahead. He drops the bow sideways, leaning his upper body slightly to the right, resting the arrows on the side like a crossbow and levels his stance, adjusting the arrow one final time before he pulls back the bowstring with more ease than Eva has ever witnessed. His head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes unblinking.

The crowd is at an absolute standstill; you could have heard a pin drop because the silence was so thick, everyone leaning in close to have a better look.

Eva doesn’t look at the people or at the target or at the arrows; she looks right at Chris, unable to tear her eyes away even for a second and thinking that she’s never seen a more awe inspiring or beautiful sight before in her life.

At the very last moment, it was like time had slowed down to a crawl; the people around were moving like in slow-motion and the sounds muffled like it was coming from underwater; at the very last moment, Chris turns his eyes to look at Eva, not looking at the arrows or the target, not looking at anyone or anything else but meeting her gaze from across the short distance. In his eyes, in that moment, Eva has never felt more coveted in her life.

Then he releases the bowstring, not even blinking as the arrows shoot out of his bow, cutting through the air faster than the speed of sound and embedding in the exact center of the three middle targets before the thudding sound finally reaches the enraptured crowd.

For a moment, no one moves, no one breathes, no one even thinks of making a sound. It was as if everyone was stuck in that moment paused in time.

When time finally resumes, Eva couldn’t have begun to prepare herself for the explosion of noise. Not sound, just white static noise that comes at her like a tempest from all sides. Commotion started raging all around them, with people hollering and cheering and the sound of high pitched whistling above everything else. People were reaching over to pat Chris on the shoulder congratulatory and heaping praises on to him, even the owner of the archery range was left gobsmacked, but clapping his hand in bewilderment and awe.

But Chris’s focus is only on her, as if the only validation he needed was from her. So Eva smiles at him, wide and bright, clapping her hands excitedly and hoping she was expressing just how proud she was and how ecstatic she was feeling on the inside.

Chris reciprocates her smile.

Eva has seen his smile before, at least Eva has seen a glimpse of it; she’s seen a hint of what could have been a gorgeous smile, but always held back, always pulled back at the very last second. It never quite showed fully or reached his eyes and it was always noticeably controlled and noticeably practiced.

But this smile…this smile was heartfelt and genuine. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it brightened up his whole face. It made his eyes sparkle and caused little wrinkles to crease up at the corner of his eyes and Eva doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more beautiful sight.

The crowd starts chanting then; “Do it again. Do it again. Do it again,” in unison, emphasizing every word to the beat of some silent music, pumping their fists in the air as punctuation to every word and looking expectantly at Chris. Excitable chattering and murmurings were washing across the crowd that had grown innumerably by this point. The only breathing space was the area around her and Chris; the crowd making a semi-circle barrier around him, giving him room to work.

Eva looks at the target then, seeing the three arrows right in the middle of the red bullseye in the three targets right in the middle. She realizes that Chris would have to hit the remaining two set up on either side of the wall with the last two arrows left before him.

Even the proprietor of the archery range had stepped further to the side, giving Chris more room.

Eva watches as he runs his hand over the body of the bow again before he reaches down to grab the two remaining arrow—the crowd’s cheering intensifies when he does—and he nocks both just as he’d done before, spreading the distance between the two farther than he had the three arrows before that.

He doesn’t take as long this time to set up his shot; his eyes find Eva almost immediately after he draws the bowstring the same way he did the previous time. But this time, he tears his eyes away from Eva just before he releases the string, but the split second before the tips of his fingers unfurl, Eva notices the slight furrow of his brows and the grimace that comes to his face; she hears rather than sees the small hitch in his breath in that instant but then there’s only the roaring of the crowd as the arrows shoot forwards, streaking through the air, cutting the wind and embedding with a thud into the back of the targets in the distance.

The crowd is dead silent for a moment as their eyes focus to see where the shots had landed.

The fourth arrow found the red center of the bullseye right in the middle of the target, but the fifth one ended up just barely missing it, embedding in the furthest most outer rim on the mark.

There were only a handful of disappointed groans Eva could hear before the crowd erupted into another round of excited cheers and loud applause and some of the sounds of disbelief coming from people grabbing at their hats in shock.

Chris finally lowers the bow with a noticeable exhale, his eyes staring out at the targets before him. Eva think she can see a hint of frustrated disappointment shining in his eyes but it’s quickly masked as the crowd reaches forwards to pat him on the shoulder, reaching their hands out to shake his as he slowly turns around to face Eva.

Eva steps forwards, the fingers of both hands intertwined in front of her lips, a wide grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. She looks up at Chris who tears his eyes away from the crowd though his hand is still held out for people to grasp on to in a congratulatory handshake. He isn’t smiling, but Eva thinks she’s beaming enough for the both of them.

The proprietor comes up to stand in front of them, his hands still vigorously clapping and his whole body language more excited for someone who has just lost four of his first place prizes.

Eva nudges Chris when the man comes up, and Chris turns to face him at her beckoning.

“Fantastic job, sir! Absolutely fantastic! I have never in my life seen as much skill as I have just witnessed with my own two eyes,” he says, the tone of his voice reaching a higher pitch than what he’d started with. “But alas, I must apologize; I only have three of these bears,” he says, putting the white bear he was holding on the counter in front of them and pulling out two more from somewhere underneath the makeshift counter before them.

Chris reaches for the one the man had been holding, picking it up with one hand and feeling the tufts of fur rubbing against his palm. The bear has the softest snow white fur, black button eyes and a bow tie made from soft red silk. After a moment, Chris turns to look at the man staring almost worriedly at him. “I only need the one,” he says, running a thumb across the midsection of the bear before he turns to the side and holds it out to Eva.

Eva looks at the bear and looks at Chris, feeling her heart skipping a beat and her breath catching inside her chest. Slowly she reaches out to take the offered bear with both hands, her eyes never leaving Chris’s intense gaze that stays locked on her and a smile wide on his face.

The cheering around had slowed down but the crowd was still muttering excitedly among themselves.

The man looks between Chris and Eva for a moment, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Fair as well as skilled,” he says to Eva. “You found yourself quite a man, my lady,” a teasing yet not insincere grin on his face.

Eva can’t tear her eyes away from Chris and she finds herself replying before the actual words can even register in her mind. “I did,” she says. Chris expression remains unchanged but there was something in the look in his eyes that shifted, but Eva couldn’t decipher what it meant.

“But you have shown us such amazing skill and entertained us so much tonight—” the crowd cheers at that, “—I cannot possibly let you leave with just one prize.” On cue, he pulls out four of the small yellow bears and places them on the counter and puts away the two white ones.

Chris finally looks away from Eva to stare at the sudden influx of yellow bears in his vicinity.

“What need would I have for so many dolls?” he asks incredulously.

The man shrugs indifferently. “Give them to your siblings or your lady’s friends,” he says.

Eva imagines bringing along all the dolls and having to explain to Noora and the girls how she obtained them all. She really wants to. She wants to tell them how excited she was and how proud she felt and how moved she felt on the inside. She wants to shout it from the rooftops or at anyone who would listen because she’s never experienced this kind of feeling before in her life. He wanted to tell at least Noora. She has to.

Eva looks back at Chris who’s still staring at the heap of dolls sitting in front of him strangely. Suddenly she notices his gaze shifting to the side, looking at the crowd still gathered behind them as if something had caught his attention. She follows his gaze and sees a little girl in a dark green dress and two little blonde pigtails on either side of her head standing with the side of her head resting against her mother thigh, one arm around her mother’s leg and sucking on the tip of her thumb on her other hand, staring at the array of dolls on the table with a sparkle in her eye.

Eva turns back to look at Chris, watching him look away and without a word picking up one of the bears and turning slightly to face the little girl, whose eyes follow the trajectory of the bear in Chris’s hand. He holds it out to her and Eva sees the way her eyes shift from looking at the bear, trailing up Chris’s arm to look at his face. She looks up at her mother who smiles down at her and beckons her to go forwards with a nod and an encouraging nudge.

Slowly the little girl lets go of her mother’s leg and takes short hesitant steps closer, her hands clasped nervously behind her back and her eyes looking at the ground sheepishly.

Chris bends down slightly to hold out the doll so that it’s in her line of sight. Slowly a small hand hesitantly reaches out to grab the offered doll; the moment her fingers make contact with the furry foot she grabs hold and runs back to burrow her face in her mother’s skirt.

Eva hears the mother chiding her daughter softly. “What do you say to the nice man?”

Eva can hear the muffled sound of a sheepish ‘thank you’ being said into the material of the woman’s skirt but the little girl doesn’t turn around.

“That’s okay,” Chris says to the woman, who smiles widely at him with a grateful, “Thank you.”

When he turns back to Eva, she knows that he can see the feeling of pride shining off her like a beacon. He just frowns slightly and what looks like the telltale signs of a blush starts creeping on his cheeks but she doesn’t comment on it.

Much of the crowd has dispersed by this point, still muttering excitedly about what they’d just witnessed. Only a few stragglers remain and a young boy with his father who’s staring at Chris with barely concealed awe. Eva sees the boy turning to his father and the sound of his voice excitedly chiming, “Father, may I try?”

He skips up the spot beside Chris, leaning his elbows on the counter and pointedly not looking in Chris and Eva’s direction but Eva can see the way his eyes keep glancing surreptitiously to where Chris is standing stoic looking at one of the yellow dolls he’s turning around in his hand. Eva can’t hold back a smile.

The boy’s big, burly, bearded father walks up immediately after and hands the proprietor the two shilling payment before the man reaches under the counter and brings out a considerably smaller bow.

Eva looks at the boy’s father as he steps up to Chris; Chris can obviously sense his presence but pays it no heed. The man’s clothes are fine and the jewellery he has around his neck, hanging down to brush across the top of his belly every time he moves is expensive and extravagant, but his face his kindly and his smile is noticeable from behind his big bushy beard.

“Young man,” he says, his voice a deep baritone. Chris finally turns to the man though at no point was he unaware of the man’s presence beside him. “Would you mind giving my son some pointers? I’m afraid this old man knows his way better around quill and a roll of parchment than a bow and arrow,” he says with a guttural laugh.

Eva looks over at Chris and catches the surprised look on his face before it’s wiped away as he nods slowly.

The gentlemen steps back to allow Chris room to approach his son who’s looking at absolutely everything else other than the person slowly approaching him.

Chris doesn’t pause for small talk which makes Eva smile, he immediately jumps into it by asking the boy which was his dominant hand, causing the boy to look confusedly at his own two hands.

“If you were mimicking shooting a bow, which would be the hand you’d use to pull the string?” Chris explains calmly, his tone professional and his explanation simple and not in a put down sort of way.

The boy pretends to draw an invisible bowstring, holding the empty air with his left hand and pulling his right hand back to his ear.

Chris nods, picking up the smaller bow and handing it to the boy, taking him by the shoulders gently and adjusting his position so his entire front is facing the right, away from the target before telling him to move his upper body slightly to the left, so that his head is slightly turned, facing his left shoulder; opposite of the stance Chris had been in not a few minutes ago.

“Plant your right foot behind you firmly,” he instructs. “People think you put your weight on your left foot to guide the arrow, but you put your weight on your right foot behind to control the direction you want to send your arrow in. The stability of your shot depends on how strong your stance is and if you’re shooting with your right hand, your right foot dictates all of that.” The boy is listening in rapt attention; hanging on to every word Chris is saying; looking at his foot behind him and digging his heel into the ground intentionally. “The second most important thing is to keep your forearm and your elbow as aligned with the arrow from the moment your draw the string to the moment you release it. That will ensure that the arrow cuts through the air in a straight line.”

Eva can’t tear her eyes away from Chris; out of the corner of her eyes, in place of the adults that had been occupying the space before, she notices a small crowd of kids and teenagers slowly gathering around. Peeking on their tip toes to get a better look over each other, all silent listening to what Chris was saying. Chris doesn’t act like he notices his new audience but Eva already knows he does, especially because she notices him speaking a little louder so that the children in the back could hear him as well.

“And thirdly, always keep your left arm slightly bent at the elbow,” he says, grabbing one of the new arrows the proprietor had set out, bringing it up to his face to assess one of them from tip to end. The tip of his index finger trails carefully over the sharpened arrowhead before he holds out the end for the boy to see. “All arrows have one part of the feather coloured or somehow always slightly different than the rest, and that is so that people can tell which is the right way to shoot it. If you shoot with the coloured feather facing inward, it will collide with the bow and the arrow will not fly in the direction you intend it to,” he explains.

Eva is struck by just how meticulous he is in his explanation and how simple he made it all sound. She could see his level of skill from his ability but seeing him explain it to the young boy and making it clear enough for all the other kids around to understand just the same, Eva could see just how passionate he really was about the whole thing. It was an amazing thing to behold, watching someone talking about something they obviously cared about a lot.

He hands the boy the arrow his was holding and gestures for him to make his first attempt.

The boy steels himself and grabs the arrow, nocking it the way he Chris had explained and no doubt the way he’d seen Chris do a moment before. He exhales as he brings his elbow up to his shoulder level, adjusting the arrow between his fingers and with one last look at Chris, who nods, he draws back the string.

Eva can see the effort he was putting into it because his whole body starts to shake slightly from the effort before he releases the string and everyone watches the arrow stumble through the air for a distance before it clatters to the grass.

Chris doesn’t look at the direction of the arrow or the target; he keeps his eyes on the boy the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest appraisingly. The boy sighs disappointedly and looks back to his father who just nods encouragingly at him. He turns to look at Chris after that.

“There are three key points shooting to shooting a bow and arrow successfully,” he says immediately, his expression unchanged. “Skill, strength and practice; these are three things that you don’t obtain overnight so don’t be discouraged if you don’t hit anything in your first few tries, or even in your first few hundred tries.”

“How long did it take you to get that good?” the boy asks interestedly, speaking for the first time.

Chris swallows as he regards the boy, licking his lips absentmindedly. “My whole life,” he says, causing the boy’s eyes to widen slightly. “But if it’s something that interests you, then it won’t be a goal you feel like you’re working towards, it will be something that gives you pleasure and pride,” he says, before picking up another arrow and handing it to the boy. “Again.”

This time, Eva notices the way his body doesn’t shake as much from the effort. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his eyes determined.  When he releases the arrow, it flies through the air with much more power and precision, before clattering to the grass the same way but a few feet further than his first try.

“You closed your eyes the moment you release the arrow,” Chris says, walking around to stand on the boys’ right. “It’s a natural human reaction to having something passing so close to your face, but it’s a habit you need to break. You can’t shoot a target if you can’t see it.”

The boy nods.

“Again,” Chris says.

The boy obliges obediently.

With each shot, Eva can already see where he was improving; his father stands to the side looking proudly at his son being so focused on what he was doing. With each miss, Chris explain to him what he did wrong and with the next shot, his arrow would fly slightly further and straighter, getting closer and close to the target. The fifth arrow leaves the counter and five more takes its place as the boy’s father nods to the owner from the back.

On the eighth try, the arrow actually comes within two feet of the target but bounces off the broadside of the wall and clatters to the ground. The boy turns back, beaming at his father who is clapping his hand excitedly. The ninth try follows a similar trajectory but come the tenth try; on the tenth try Eva suddenly had a gut feeling that this wasn’t going to be like all the other tries, because the look on the boy’s face is even more focused and even more determined, his father is wringing his hands on the side and for the first time since they began, Chris eyes follow the arrow as it leaves the bow, whizzing through the air and embedding into the wall, slicing through the outer edges of the target in the middle; it was so close that even from a distance they could see the dust and little bits of hay flying around from the impact.

The boy beams, but not as widely as his father, who rushes forward and proudly embraces him in a firm hug.

“Father, did you see?” he yells excitedly, turning around to circle his arms around his father’s neck.

“I did son, and I am so very proud!” he says, embracing his son once again but his eyes move to look at Chris. “Thank you,” he says, and he sounds almost choked up when he says it.

Chris just nods but Eva can see the glint of pride in his own eyes.

The boy lets go of his father’s neck and suddenly rushes forwards and embraces Chris around the waist.

Chris is obviously completely taken aback by the act and Eva sees the moment his brain starts working again as he reaches down to pat the boy awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Good job,” he says. The moment the boy lets go he takes an involuntary step back.

The boy immediately turns to his father with an excitedly expression. “Father, may I go again?” he asks and the man just nods vigorously.

“But, we will let the kind mister and his lady friend go along their way to enjoy the rest of festival,” the man says. The boy groans disappointedly but doesn’t argue.

The gentleman approaches Chris who has moved back to Eva’s side; Eva had collected the remaining dolls, holding them by the little string behind their necks in each finger, the snow white bear held in a firm hug against her chest in her other hand.

“Young man,” he says as he steps up. “Forgive me; I do not know your name.”

Chris pauses for a moment before he says, “Chris.”

“Mister Chris,” the man amends. “And my lady? – he looks over at Eva who introduces herself before he turns back to face Chris— “Thank you for taking the time to teach my son, I know you did not have to and I know that you did not have to be so thorough. But I appreciate you spending your time to entertain the interest of a young boy. He barely listens to me on the best days and I have never seen him so obedient before, especially of a stranger, so thank you.”

Chris doesn’t look like he really knows how to react, but he says a simple, “You’re welcome,” with a small bow.

“Well, I will not take up any more of your time—I apologize, young lady, for infringing on your moment.”

Eva chuckles awkwardly a little. “It’s alright sir, it was time well spent for the both of them,” she says.

The man bids them both farewell, though Eva notices the way he grabs Chris by the arm for a moment and whispers something into his ear just as she turns to head back towards the middle of the street, watching the sparse crowd left milling around, as everyone else have all slowly made their way towards the top of the hill just on the outskirts of the town at end of the festival to watch the fireworks on the other field on the other side that were due at any time.

Eva turns when she hears footsteps and finds Chris walking up to her, the expression on his face thoughtful.

“What did he want?” she asks when he approaches.

“Hmm?” Chris hums questioningly.

“The man, I saw him saying something to you before we left.”

Chris doesn’t answer immediately. “Nothing, he just wanted to thank me again.”

Eva doesn’t think that’s the truth, but she doesn’t push, instead she beckons him towards the edge of town where the crowd of people gathering could already been seen even from that distance. Only a sparse amount of shops had been set up on the way out, a few selling drinks and confectionaries and others with little trinkets and ornaments on display.

It takes some effort to find her friends among the sea of people crowding around, looking for the best vantage point to see the fireworks about to shoot up into the nights sky, but eventually she hears the sound of Christina’s excited voice bellowing her name from higher up the hill, near a cluster of trees overlooking the bright lights of the town below.

Eva jogs the last couple of meters, her precious white bear still clutched close to her chest and the three little yellow bears bopping up as down as she ran, Chris trailing behind at a much more relaxed pace. She lost sight of him for a while in the rush of people making their way in the same direction but eventually catches sight of him again walking up to her. She thinks she saw him wince slightly as he walked but she couldn’t be certain because Vilde’s shocked gasp and her exclamation of— “Oh my god, Eva!” – immediately invades her senses as she gapes openly at all the bears in her hold.

Christina looks equally stunned when she notices what Vilde is looking at. “Did you buy them or something?” she asks in disbelief. Her eyes are glassy and she’s swaying slightly on her feet making it clear that she did keep her promise of getting drunk off her behind with the lads.

Eva’s smile is wide when she slows to the trot, slightly out of breath and her bangs dishevelled in front of her face. She takes the two small yellow bears and hands one each to Vilde and Christina. “No, Chris won them in the archery contest.”

“All of them?” Vilde says with a gasp, looking at the small bear in her hand.

Eva is about to answer, her mouth already opening when she hears Noora’s voice calling her name from somewhere in her periphery. Chris had also just joined them, walking up to the group silently as Noora, William, Sana and Magnus walk up from somewhere lower down the hill, each holding two paper cups of something.

Eva turns to look at Noora and notices a similar yellow bear hanging from one of her fingers as her hands hold two small cups of beverages.

Eva’s mouths an O when she recalls what the man at the archery stall had said. “William was the person who won the doll!” Eva states as Noora comes to stand at her side, holding out one of the cups to her and leaning over to hand the other one to Chris who accepts it hesitantly.

Noora looks closely at the white bear in her arms and her eyes widened in realization. “You two must have been the cause of the commotion we heard earlier,” she says, looking over at William who just stepped up and taking one of the cups he was offering to her. “Remember that William, the sound we could hear from about ten stalls over? That was Chris and Eva,” she says, motioning to the white bear in Eva’s arms. “Chris hit a bullseye,” she says impressed, “and you said that all the bows were rigged to prevent anyone from winning first prize,” she says in jest, jabbing William in the side with her elbow.

“That was just your ego talking,” Christina says with a laugh.

William looks absolutely insulted at the insinuation. But before he can say anything, Noora turns to Eva with a teasing grin and moves as if to whisper into her ear but her words are loud enough for everyone in the immediate vicinity to hear. “It took one word for William to cave, Eva. You should have been there. I barely had time to turn around before William was throwing money at the owner and shooting off arrows like the wall had personally offended him.”

“He challenged me, man to man!” William interrupts quickly, causing Noora to laugh. “Chris understands, right?” he says, looking to Chris for support.

Chris looks uncomfortable by the attention that was all of a sudden focused on him, so Eva steps in quickly.

“Actually Chris and I were walking away. The man begged him to try by giving him two free attempts,” Eva says with a shrug and a small half smile directed at William who looks back at her with such betrayal in his face.

“Two tries?” Noora asks with a tilt of her head. “You have four dolls? I know no one else won one because the six of us have been together since before we got here.”

Eva all of a sudden remembers the last yellow bear hanging from her finger and hands it to Sana with a smile. Sana looks confused for a moment but quickly returns her smile as she looks at the little bear in her hand interestedly. “Umm, it’s a long story,” she says, looking over at Chris, who just returns her gaze.

Noora looks between Eva and Chris without a word for a second, before turning to the sulking William with a brusque, “Keep Chris company for a while,” she says, then addresses Eva and the rest of the girls gathered around. “We need to have a girl talk,” she says. “Magnus, you stay with the boys.”

Magnus who looks completely lost in the whole situation just nods obediently.

Grabbing Eva by the hand, she motions for Sana, Christina and Vilde towards the small secluded spot behind the trees, away from the opening at the foot off the small hill where the fireworks were the most noticeable.

“And William,” she says finally, looking at her fiancée seriously, “Play nice.”

Eva just shrugs as she looks back to meet Chris’s confused eyes. She sees William slowly turning to face Chris, Magnus all of a sudden more preoccupied with the liquid in the cup in his hand, and the uncertainty in his voice when he says; “So…nice weather we’re having isn’t it…?”

Eva doesn’t find out whether or not Chris finds the weather agreeable because she loses sight of them behind the canopy of trees. Once they’re out of range of crowd gathered in the distance, only then does Noora stop and release the grip she has on Eva’s hand.

“I sense that something monumental happened besides Chris just hitting a bullseye,” Noora says.

“What happened?” Vilde asks, sharing an equally confused look with Christina and Sana.

Eva takes a deep breath and tries to keep her face from showing too much of the excitement and the adrenaline she was feeling on the inside.

“He didn’t just hit the bullseye,” Eva says, “He hit all four bullseyes.”

“Sorry?” Sana asks, adjusting her head as if it would somehow allow herself to hear better.

“You said the owner gave him two shots? How could he hit four bullseyes if he only had two shots?” Vilde asks.

“Actually he hit all five of the targets, only four were in the bullseye.”

All the girls shared a look with each other while seeming like they were doing a mental calculation of the logic of Eva’s explanation.

“Hang on,” Noora says, holding up a hand. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

Eva exhales but not out of negativity. She just didn’t know where to begin to explain.

“Umm, it’s uh—like I said, Chris wasn’t going to go ahead with it, because he said he wouldn’t take my money to pay the two shillings. But the owner gave him two attempts for free because he was desperate to keep the crowd excited I think.”

Noora nods. “Okay, we understand that part.”

Eva takes a deep breath and continues. “His first attempt, he shot three arrows at the same time,” she pauses to let the words sink in; waiting for the moment of realization or for the first person to say that she’s lying.

“You’re lying,” Christina says sceptically. “I mean…that—I mean that’s just not possible…right?”

“I would have thought the same thing as you,” Eva says, “If I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”

“And then what happened?” Sana asks.

“All three arrows hit the bullseyes,” Eva says. “His second shot, she used the last two arrows. One hit the bullseye and the other just hit the target.”

“But you only have one first place prize?” Vilde says, looking at the white bear still clutched close to her chest.

“Because he said he only wanted one prize. The other prizes the owner insisted he take to give to friends,” she says, before adding, “He gave one to a little girl who was standing there.”

The group lapses into silence after Eva finishes.

“Wow,” is all Noora can say, looking completely taken aback.

“You believe me right?” Eva asks, all of a sudden feeling very self-conscious.

Noora looks at her immediately, all traces of surprise gone from her face. She smiles and pulls Eva into a hug. “Of course we do, Eva. It’s just…quite shocking.”

“What did you say your cousin did again?” Sana asks.

“Seafarer,” Eva says, though she’s disappointed in herself that she had to think about it for a beat longer than she would have liked.

“Must be some kind of ship he’s on to be that good with a bow and arrow,” Sana says and Eva’s not sure she likes the glint in Sana’s eyes when she looks at her. But then the girl smiles, her dimples peeking out displaying blatant faux innocence and the suspicious glint Eva saw in her eyes immediately disappears.

“So…is this for us?” Vilde says, holding up the yellow bear to Eva.

“Yes, of course. That’s why I gave it to you,” Eva says and the smile on Vilde’s face is positively beaming, especially for someone who makes dolls for a living. But Eva thinks that it has less to do with the gift and more to do with the thought behind it.

“It��s so cute!” Vilde coo’s hugging it to her chest.

“You make dolls for a living,” Sana says with a pointed look.

“Yes, but—but there’s a difference in the dolls you make yourself and the dolls that are given as a gift,” Vilde explains and for the first time Sana has no words to counter back.

“I’m not one for dolls,” Christina says, “But this one looks ferocious. He will look good hanging from my wall,” Christina says, slightly slurred. “I shall call him Casper.”

“Ask Noora what she calls hers,” Sana whispers to Eva.

Eva chuckles. “What do you call yours, Noora?” she asks.

Noora has a cheeky glint in her eyes when she says, “Wilhelm.”

They rejoin the boys soon after, walking out from behind the trees just as the gathered crowd starts getting to their feet, looking expectantly out at the still empty horizon.

They approach the boys just in time to hear William’s voice saying, “—then she insulted my parents and my upbringing and called me a walking cliché. That’s when I knew she was the one.”

Noora clears her throat when they approach. William turns around and smiles widely at the sight of her. Vilde walks over to curl up into Magnus’s side and lifts up the little yellow bear to show him. Sana and Christina both stand off to the side, with Christina hanging off of a scowling Sana and resting her head on her shoulder.

Eva approaches Chris and he doesn’t seem like he’s unfurled his arms crossed in front of him at any point during his time with William. He looks almost relieved when he notices her walking up and Eva smiles at his reaction.

“Did you have your girl talk?” he asks.

Eva wrinkles her nose at him at the comment and smiles. “Yes we did,” she says as she comes to stand beside him, both of them turning around to stare out at the wide open field spread out in front at the foot of the hill and the people rushing around in the darkness in the distance settling up the fireworks display.

“Are you happy with your gift?” he asks again and this time Eva turns to gaze up at him, looking at the silhouette outline of his face against the light of the half-moon hanging in the sky.

“It’s the most precious thing anyone has ever given me,” she says earnestly and Chris smiles.

The excited chattering starts up again as they look out at the field again, watching the people working in the darkness rushing off towards cover as the sparks from the fireworks’ fuse start burning shorter.

A hushed whisper that quickly descends into silence washes over the crowd as they watch intently, waiting for the sight of the fireworks to erupt into the night sky.

Eva feels the heat of someone’s eyes on her and turns to look at Chris’s gaze trained fixatedly on her.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks self-consciously, reaches up to touch her cheek.

“No,” Chris says. “Just…” he trails off, swallowing noticeably. “Just…tonight—”

Whatever Chris intended to say, Eva didn’t get to find out because there’s a series of high pitched screeching sounds before balls of light starts shooting into the skies, illuminating the grassy field and the forest canopy spread out around them. Everyone’s eyes follow the ascension of the small ball of light until it reaches the peak height in the sky and with an enormous boom that shakes the ground they’re standing on, explodes into a shower of multi-coloured lights.

Eva was looking at the firework explosion when the first boom erupted and she felt Chris involuntarily jump beside her. She didn’t think much of it when she turned to look at him, but the sight that meets her eyes is one she never would have expected. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring at the ground as if he was wishing it would suddenly open up and swallow him. One hand covering his ear almost unconsciously and his breathing was coming out hitched and uneven.

“Chris?” Eva’s smile immediately drops and she reaches up subconsciously to take his hand in hers. “Chris, are you okay?” she focuses her attention entirely on him, paying no heed to the display of lights illuminating the dark sky.

Chris doesn’t look at her but it looks like he’s about to answer when a second explosion makes him jump again. Eva gets close to him, one hand already clutching his hand holding the paper package at his side, and her other hand still holding the white doll, reaching to circle around his side as she pulls him close. Even from that closeness of their bodies Eva can already feel his heart pounding in his chest through her own. She looks around at the crowd completely enraptured by the display going on above them. Without word, she circles her arm fully around his side, tucking herself into his side and turning both of them around, half dragging him in the direction she and Noora had left for earlier. Chris obliges without putting up any sort of resistance.

Eva notices Noora glancing at them as they’re walking away but she doesn’t have time to explain. At that moment, the priority was just Chris.

They walk further into the trees, away from the crowd until it’s only the two of them and they’re far enough into the forest behind them that the sound of the third boom is muffled slightly, but it still manages to startle Chris.

Eva keeps her eyes on Chris the whole time; he doesn’t meet her gaze and his face his ashen and she can see the beads of sweat sticking to his forehead. Eventually they step into the clearing, away from the sounds of the crowd cheering every time the colours in the sky opened up like a blazing flower.

She stops near a large tree in the opening, and half pushes Chris onto the ground into a sitting position, leaning his back against the trunk as she settles close beside him and takes his hand in hers, the other reaching across his back.

“It’s okay,” she says, rubbing soothing circular motions on his back, her hand gripping his doing the same with her thumb against the back of his hand.

He doesn’t make eye contact with her even once, his eyes gazing blankly at a spot only he could see; she could still feel his heart pounding inside his chest and his breathing was still uneven.

She doesn’t know how long they sit there; she’s whispering comforting words into his ear, resting her cheek against his shoulder, while the sound of fireworks could still be heard in the distance. Eventually she feels his heartbeat slowing down and he starts shifting in his seat beside her. Only then does she turn out to look at him, finally finding his eyes on her; though they’re glassy and slightly damp.

“How are you feeling?” she asks without stopping her hand from massaging up and down the length of his back.

He just sits there silently, catching his breath, his eyes unblinking where they’re trained on her. He looks away to stare at the ground, the look on his face unreadable though the closest thing Eva can think to describe it would be shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers without meeting her eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she tells him, urging him to meet her gaze as she lowers her head down to look into his downcast eyes. “Okay? Absolutely nothing.”

Chris doesn’t answer or even look up to meet her eyes. So instead she reaches down to grasp his chin with her thumb and index finger lifting his head to look at her.

His eyes are wet; it’s the first thing she notices and her heart almost breaks.

“Everyone has something that’s too much for them to deal with sometimes and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she says. “Maybe it’s the loud noises, maybe it’s the explosion of light or just the crowd of people around. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she explains, placing emphasis on the last few words and keeping Chris’s gaze as she wills him to believe her.

He doesn’t say anything, so instead she reaches across his shoulder with one hand and pulls him into a hug, holding him tight against her chest in a firm embrace. Pleased, she feels his arms reaching around her torso and latching on, burrowing his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers to him over and over again while continuing to massage his back gently with the palm of her hand.

The fireworks display have ended by this point and in the distance she can hear the sound of the crowd slowly dispersing, but she doesn’t move; she just continues sitting there whispering into his ear and rubbing circles into his back.

All of a sudden the snapping sound of a dry twig catches her attention. It must have been telling about Chris’s situation that he didn’t seem to notice the intrusion at all.

Eva looks up to see Noora walking cautiously into the clearing, her mouth frowning and her eyes concerned.

Eva lifts a hand up to halt her, shaking her head slightly to tell her that it’s okay and to not come closer.

Noora stops immediately and the look in her eyes when she looks at Chris is one of sympathy. She looks at Eva and motions towards where the group is undoubtedly waiting with a small nudge of her chin. Eva just shakes her head a little, mouthing ‘it’s okay’ and hoping that Noora understands what she mean.

Noora looks hesitant for a moment before he reluctantly nods, pointing to herself then to Eva and mouthing ‘I’ll come tomorrow.”

Eva just nods. There was nothing she could really say to that.

Noora leaves with one last concerned glimpse back and Eva turns her attention back to Chris still curled up against her. His heart is no longer pounding in his chest and his breathing is even, which she takes as a good sign at least, but Chris doesn’t move so she stays still, holding him comfortingly in her arms.

Eventually Chris shifts and eases out of the embrace, and Eva finds the loss of the body heat jarring but she doesn’t fully let go, holding onto his shoulders as he leans to rest his back and his head against the tree, his eyes closed in deep concentration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eva asks, moving in a little closer and placing a hand on his knee. Chris shakes his head in a negative and his squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay,” Eva says. “You don’t have to.”

She just sits there in silence watching him trying to get his breathing under control.

“It’s the explosions,” he says suddenly, but Eva was already looking straight at him so his voice comes as less of a shock. “It sounds just like…just like, bombs and cannon fire; the sound and the heat and the vibrations in the earth when it goes off. It was—it was too familiar,” he says. Finally he opens his eyes but he isn’t looking at Eva, he’s looking at a spot in the sky above them, as if dredging up memories of a past he’d sooner forget. “I’ve seen too many people die that way and it’s a horrible way to go,” he says. He lapses into silence after that and Eva doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“But you’re not in a war, not here, not with me,” she says. “Here…you’re safe.”

Chris doesn’t answer but from the look in his eye Eva can tell that he doesn’t even really understand the meaning of that word. She wonders if even she truly does.

“I’m sorry about making you miss the fireworks,” he says and Eva holds a hand up before he can even think of continuing.

“It wasn’t about the fireworks,” she explains. “It wasn’t about the festival or the food or the people; it was about enjoying it with you and I did that immensely tonight.” Chris doesn’t say anything so Eva adds. “What just happened, it doesn’t take away from that at all.”

She doesn’t move, she doesn’t nudge him or say anything else. She allows him to gather his thoughts and work whatever negative emotion he was feeling out of his system.

“Do you want to go home?” she asks after watching him for a few moments to make sure that he’s really calmed down.

Finally Chris opens his eyes to look at her and with an almost imperceptible nod, he lets out a soft, “Yes.”

Eva gets to her feet and waits patiently as Chris pushes himself up, wincing slightly when he straightens up, causing Eva to remember that he’d be favouring his injured left side all night, but especially after the archery contest that evening. “Are you alright?”

Chris just nods and Eva decides not to push the issue until they get home. Without word, she sidles up beside him, sliding her arm around his waist and allowing him to rest his arm across her shoulders.

And so they begin their slow trek home.

The town is almost deserted when they enter, only a few remaining people walking past and the business owners slowly cleaning up shop. Eva decides not to make a show of them walking through the town even if there aren’t that many people left. Instead she turns into one of the alleyways that lead into the dense forest behind the town. It would take them a little longer to make their way home, but at least there wouldn’t be anyone around to make a spectacle of them. It was a route that only Eva really knew, because she used to take it to get back home on the days when she didn’t want to run into people.

Chris doesn’t say anything for the whole walk home and Eva allows him that peace; just having him by her side gives her the companionship she so desires even when no words are exchanged between them.

Eventually they step out of the underbrush onto the familiar gravel road and continue on towards where Eva’s small cottage is waiting for them at the end of the path.

Fy could probably sense that something wasn’t right before they even stepped through the door because the moment they enter, Eva can already see the brown dog standing at the ready, her ear levelled and her tail tucked. She follows closely when Eva leads Chris over to the bed after locking the door and sits him down on the edge, taking seat beside him without even one removing the grip she had around him. Fy comes to Chris’s right side and very gently places a paw on his knee, whining softly.

Eva smiles and reaches over to pat her on the head because Chris was still rather out of it and didn’t seem to notice the pooch’s worry. “It’s okay, Fy, Chris is just a little upset right now,” she says. “You’re such a good girl.”

Hearing Eva’s voice talking to the dog gently seems to snap Chris out of the haze he found himself stuck in. He finally blinks and looks at the dog staring back up at him. He reaches over slowly to scratch her below the neck causing her leg to start shaking uncontrollably.

“How are you feeling?” Eva asks, rubbing her open palm up and down Chris’s back, calling his attention to her.

He turns, though his eyes are still tired looking and his spirit seems dampened, he spares her a small smile. “Better,” he says.

“That’s good,” Eva says, finally letting go of his waist. She lowers herself down to a crouch in front of him and reaches to undo his boots.

Chris grabs her hand as she’s unbuckling the first clasp and pulls her hand up to his lap. “Eva, you don’t have to do that.”

Eva just smiles at him and pats his hand with her other. “I know. I don’t have to, but I want to. Just relax, okay. Let me take care of this—let me take care of you.”

Chris still looks hesitant but he doesn’t argue when Eva slides her hand out of his grasp and finishes unbuckling his boot and pulls it off. Doing the same with the other one before she stands up, motioning to him to take off his belt as she pulls back the covers of the bed and fluffs up the pillow. She pushes him back down slowly into a lying down position and makes sure both his legs are on the bed before she tucks the blanket around him snugly.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks with a smile playing at her lips.

As she straightens up and rolls up the sleeves of her dress. She’s mid roll when Chris reached up and firmly grasps her by the wrist, not in an aggressive manner but she looks up to him staring at her.

“Please stay,” he says, almost in a whisper.

Eva looks at him just as intently before kicking off her own shoes and taking seat on the edge of the mattress, as Chris moves back to make room for her, until his back is against the wall behind him, slowly lowering herself into a reclining position mirroring Chris. Chris on his left side, his head cushioned on one end of the pillow and Eva on her right occupying the other end, her hand tucked under her cheek, facing each other from the barely one foot of distance between them.

Eva looks straight into his eyes; looking at the way the greenish outer ring of his eyes almost bleeds into the light brown center. Neither of them break eye contact nor move an inch in a long while, until Eva can see the way Chris’s eyes are slowly drooping and he keeps forcing them back open.

It isn’t until she reaches over, cupping his cheek with the palm of her hand, whispering a soft, “Sleep,” does he finally succumb to the darkness.

Eva watches him for a while after his breathing has evened out and he’s fallen asleep, feeling her own eyelid starting to close. She forces them open one last time to look at Chris, to memorize every detail of his face to memory, only then does she allow sleep to consume her.

Tbc.

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For everyone who reblogged, liked, commented on Tumblr and on ao3, who continue to inspire me to tell this story and it’s quickly becomes one of my most favourite stories to tell 💚💚

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @giishere @ganseysjane @whyjulieandemhatesevamohn @yousefxsana @ultraanakinpadmelover @havshsjjs101byebye @joyfullyqualitydaze @time-to-go-97 @mohnstadlove @sheishookedtothesilverscreen and @chrisevafeels

[purrincesskittens]

Miraculous Ladybug: Adventures Of Lupine Alpha and Corvus. Chapter 6

Summery: A new girl has started at Adrien’s school. One whose elder brother is just as rich and famous as his father. Adrien gets to know the girl more as his father works with her brother on a new project and finds she is a lot like him. As Chat Noir he continues to work along side Ladybug to keep Paris safe when a new Miraculous Holder appears along with a new enemy. Just who is Lupine Alpha? As their knowledge changes and expands more and more information about the Miraculouses comes to light. As do more miraculous holders. 

(Note: I do allow reblogging of this on tumblr alone )

Marinette had gotten lucky really. When she had been pushed out of the way of the collapsing tunnel roof she had been shoved back the way she came so she with the help of Plagg who kept bugging her for more cheese bread and scratches and pets turning out to be a very needy and demanding little kwami, she managed to eventually find her way out of the catacombs.

Getting out was the hard part. She couldn’t jump out since she wasn’t Ladybug at the moment nor could she transform into Ladybug which left her with climbing being her only option. “No!I refuse I absolutely won’t do it!” Marinette protests shaking her head and crossing her arms. “Come on princess you got to or your never going to get out of here and that means no cheese bread and I like cheese bread.” Plagg urges flying around her in circles anxiously he had yet to shut up about the cheese bread.

It took a bit longer but she finally with a loud groan wrapped some fabric around her hands so she wouldn’t have to touch the bones directly and began to climb her way up the side of the tunnel wall. She kept slipping and having to readjust her position to try and get up her shaking didn’t help and she kept trying to turn her gaze away from the creepy empty eye sockets of the skulls that stared back at her.

Just as she was about to reach the top letting go with one hand to reach for the edge grabbing a hold of it and reaching with her other hand she slipped. Plagg luckily grabbed her flailing free hand and gave a sharp tug with all his might pulling her hand back towards the edge of the opening. “Thank you Plagg.” Marinette says with a sigh of relief.

“Don’t thank me yet you’re still in the catacombs you know. And you owe me a ton of cheese bread for this princess.” He mutters giving her butt a push up as she struggled to pull herself up through the hole. Sabrina’s father Roger was standing near the hole guarding it the police had roped it off to keep pedestrians and civilians out.

Upon seeing the girl struggling to get out he rushed over and pulled her up. She offered him a brief explanation saying she had fallen in shortly after it opened not paying attention to where she was going and had tried to find another way out and gotten lost before turning back and finding the hole again. Her excuse was accepted and she was escorted home safe and sound Plagg tucked hidden into her bag.

Her parents were of course concerned for her but she manged to convince them she was unharmed. “I’m fine papa I truly am I just fell down a hole is all I should have been paying better attention.” Her parents fussed over her a bit which she allowed. “I promise I’ll be more careful and pay attention to where I’m going from now on okay mama?”

“Okay Mari sweety but you really should rest to make sure you aren’t hurt and to recover that was quite the ordeal you went through I’m just glad you weren’t hurt too badly from that fall. ” Her father says hugging her tight which she returned knowing her parents loved her and worried about her. Plagg caught her attention with a “Psst.” and a headbutt from the opening of her bag.

“Ohh yeah Papa can I have some more of that cheese bread you made this morning if there is any left? It was really good and a friend of mine wanted to try some too I gave him the little bit I had left.” She asks innocently. “Of course in fact I just made a new loaf this one is a little different I tried some new cheeses in it including that stinky Camembert stuff. You can try it and tell me what you think and so can your friend.”

She was handed the entire loaf with a knife on a plate to take up to her room. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and called her thanks over her shoulder as she headed up to her room closing the trap door behind her. Plagg immediately flew out and started crooning over the bread. “Ohh my sweet cheese bread at last we are together. And you’re Camembert cheese bread too doubly delicious.” He moans rubbing the crust of the bread with a paw savoring the scent.

Marinette rolled her eyes leaving the kwami to eat in peace while she hunted down the clothing necessary to make her disguise. She bite her lip as she hunted through her closest. “Ahah this will work.” She mutters pulling out a tank top she had bought on a shopping trip with her friends. Adrien had commented on how cute it looked sparking her into trying it on which had Alya squealing in delight and snapping photos while Adrien just gave her a dazzling smile that her her going weak in the knees and Nino commenting on how cute it looked on her.

The tank top was simple in design really a red wide strapped tank that was red in color with little black spots surrounding the the word Miraculous printed in big black sprawling letters across her small chest. It was form fitting so it hugged what few curves she had and revealed the tops of her breasts slightly with the low cut neck line.

She rarely wore it out of embarrassment because she wasn’t comfortable with exactly how low the neckline was. But it would work perfectly for her disguise. It was a popular store she had bought it from too so other people would have the same shirt besides her so she couldn’t be traced back as the only one having it.

She drew out a cute little red jacket with pink heart buttons on the sleeves and collar that she had made herself. It fastened just under her bust and she had only ever worn it once. Chloe had been a bitch that day and had made fun of her for the heart buttons causing her to promptly take it off and stuff it in her locker. Only Alya and a few of the other girls had seen her in it. So it was pretty safe to wear.

She hummed to herself as she continued to hunt for more things to wear. She didn’t have any red pants but she did have some black ones with tiny little ladybugs stitched into the pant leg hems that she had done herself. She started to put on her clothes before realizing something. The cute lacy pink bra and panties she had on wouldn’t go with the shirt and would show. She had to change completely.

Blushing bright red she eyed Plagg who was stuffing his face with the bread not really paying attention to her. She moved to her underwear drawer and pulled out her bright red with black lace bra and pantie set Alya had insisted she buy last month when she had realized some of her bras were getting too small. Taking Alya with her on her shopping trip with her mother had proven to be a bad idea. Alya had loved the brightness and boldness of the set and insisted Marinette needed something like that even though she protested that no one other then herself would see her in it.

She hadn’t worn it yet too embarrassed to do so. She also only had the one shirt it would go with. Casting another glance at Plagg she pulled her shirt off over her head and undid her pants letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra letting it fall to the floor before drawing her panties down off her hips and stepping out of them. She quickly drew on her red set and pulled on her shirt and pants sighing in relief once she was dressed again.

Plagg finally finished with his cheese bread watched her through narrow green slits thinking of how he could torture his miraculous holder with what he had just witnessed. He was a teenager after all and had hormones to deal with getting him all frustrated with describing the girl behind the ladybug mask stripping would be fun.

Marinette finished attaching the detachable hood she had created to go with her jacket before turning to him to show him her outfit. “What do you think?” “You look hot but what about a mask?” “Crap I forgot about that. I don’t have a mask.” Marinette bit her lip as she rummaged through her stuff finding an old pair of dark pink sunglasses she had. Grinning she sat at her desk and pulled out the supplies she needed getting to work on changing the frames red before adding black dots on them the lenses dark enough to nearly hide her eyes.

Slipping on her completed glasses she posed in front of the mirror getting a whistle from Plagg. “My kit should marry you then we can have all the cheese bread we want and he can see his precious lady all dressed up special for him.” Plagg says with a snicker flying over to her and landing on her shoulder. She smiled and shook her head petting the tiny little kitty.

Pulling down her hood and taking off her glasses with Plagg tucked in under her jacket collar and glasses tucked into her pocket she went downstairs calling to her parents that she was going to try and find Alya and see what she was up to. “Okay sweeties have fun and BE CAREFUL!” Her father calls as she snags another small loaf of the cheese bread to take with her. “I will Papa!”

She slid on her glasses and pulled up her hood once she was outside and Plagg crawled up onto her shoulder still inside her hood to talk to her as she walked down the street towards the park with the statue in it. She was just entering the park petting and scratching a purring Plagg when she froze spying a man standing near the statue. It was Skinwalker and from the way he looked at her she got a bad feeling he knew who she was.

“Ladybug we have been waiting. Skinwalker has patience but Wendigo does not.” He says with a cruel smile a purple butterfly shape appearing around his face showing that Hawkmoth was talking to him. “Wendigo?” She questions softly not getting the chance to figure out who he was talking about as a loud snort came from her side as a hulking monster tore towards her.

She tried to dash out of the way but was caught quickly by the creature getting slammed into and sent skidding across the ground into the base of the statue knocking her out along with Chat’s kwami who had also been sitting on the side she had been hit on. As her consciousness faded she saw a small child appear from behind the statue and reach for her ears removing her earrings with gentle small hands before darting back into the shadows as the world around her went black.

~o~

Adrien was getting tired of Accalia real quick. She had a penchant for biting him when ever he touched her or at random moments. She also kept bugging him for fruit especially something she called Goji. He seriously wanted Plagg back. He was annoying but not nearly as much as Accalia. It took a while of wondering the tunnels before Accalia smelled fresh air and grabbed him by the hand and dragged him towards where she smelled the scent coming from. He had ended up in a new tunnel after the cave in and had gotten lost at first till Accalia gave in and started leading the way with her nose.

Now he was emerging from the catacombs through an official tourist entrance after finding their way into a area toured by the public and following the directions of a few groups he ran into offering up the explanation that he got separated from his party and was going to go wait for them at the bus once he found his way out. He breathed a sigh of relief at finally getting out of the catacombs even risking giving Accalia a tiny pat on the head with a finger that he miraculously escaped with out a nip for.

He didn’t dare go home but he did have some cash on him so he headed towards some stores that he knew sold clothes for cosplay enthusiasts as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. He picked out a simple black shirt with a green paw print on the front with Miraculous scrawled across the paw print. He grinned remembering how he had encouraged Marinette to buy a tank top with that written on it once. She never wore it though so he had no idea if she still had it. He had seen plenty of other girls wearing the same shirt though making him wonder if Ladybug had one and if she ever wore it.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t see Accalia slip out of his jacket pocket and fly over to a hoodie on a display model. He heard a sharp high pitch yip which drew several peoples attention all confused over what it was. He glanced around confused before he heard her calling for him. “Hey kid over here kitty.” He patted his jacket quickly discovering the wolf kwami was gone looking around wildly for her knowing Lupine would probably kill him for losing her kwami.

Accalia let out a frustrated huff and zipped back to him getting right up in his face. “Pay attention!” She growls dragging him over to the display. “Look what I found! It’s perfect for the little kitty kat!” She yips excitedly her tail wagging as she showed him the black cat eared hoodie with the words “I’m the cat’s meow!” written on it. He couldn’t help but grin and laugh a little at the hoodie. He could just imagine Ladybug’s reaction if he wore that.

The display model happened to be the only one in his size so he got a store associate to help him get it down. He completed the outfit with a simple pair of black jeans with a leather tail belt attached and some black combat boots. A thin black leather mask finished it all off tying in the back of his head. He didn’t buy as much stuff as Lupine did so his total was lower and he had just enough money to cover the cost leaving with his normal clothes in his bag stopping to get a fruit crepe to pacify the demanding hungry wolf kwami who kept nipping him.

He was enjoying himself walking through the streets of Paris in disguise without drawing to much attention either as Adrien Agreste or Chat Noir. Thanks to this he wasn’t stopped by people so he made good time getting to the park despite having taken the longest to get out of the catacombs. He froze in place as he caught sight of two females laying sprawled on the ground unconscious by the statue.

“Tala!” Accalia calls out worriedly confirming his suspicions that they were Lupine and Ladybug judging from the red on one and the brown on the other. He took a step towards them worried himself but stopped spying the two responsible for hurting his partners. “You how could you?! They don’t even have their powers and you attack them anyways?” He growls anger brewing in him.

He didn’t know why there were two of them now but he didn’t care they had hurt Ladybug which was bad enough but then they hurt Lupine. He liked Lupine. She was funny and kind and had a shy side. She was older then him he figured that out but she seemed to be emotionally vulnerable when not transformed. She had panic attacks at the mere thought of going into a crowd. Ladybug was strong and confident just as Lupine was but for Lupine she took courage from her kwami and her mask. He did the same hiding behind his mask like she did which made him wonder how his Lady was outside of her mask. Did she too hide behind it like them?

��We care not if they have their powers or not they have their miraculouses that is all we care about. You have made Skinwalker wait long enough Chat now its time for you to meet Wendigo.” Skinwalkers says calmly directing the hulking beast beside him to attack. Adrien dodged to the best of his ability running basically in circles to avoid getting rammed into by that monster. If that was what a true Wendigo looked like he decided he didn’t want to go to America and try meeting one of these legendary monsters.

Somethign or rather someone, Skinwalker, tripped him having grown tired of the game of cat and mouse. He tripped falling forward and sliding along the ground beside the girls. He could see Plagg curled up against Ladybug’s neck also unconscious which made him even more mad that they had hurt his kwami. The little red bug beside Lupine must be Tikki meaning they had knocked her out as well when they knocked Lupine out.

“Watch out kid!” Accalia warns causing him to roll out of the way as both Skinwalker and Wendigo tried to stomp on him. His attention was focused on watching them so he didn’t notice the small child slide out of the shadows of the statue and reach for his hand. He felt the small tug on his hand and glanced up in time to catch the child removing his ring from his hand.

“No!” He cries trying to scramble to his feet and stop the child. Accalia growled and zipped towards the kid with all her might. “Aha!We are triumphant at last! We have all three miraculouses!” Skinwalker laughs the purple butterflies appearing on both his and Wendigo’s faces as Hawkmoth laugh triumphantly believing he had finally won he had what he wanted and more.

Accalia wasn’t about to give in and fastened her teeth around the child’s hand what part of it she could causing them to give a small cry and try to shake her off. Accalia was finally shaken free but with her came her miraculous. Clutched in her tiny paws she held the choker quickly retreating back to the only conscious miraculous holder left. “Put this on kid!And call out Paws On!”

Adrien was reluctant at first but watching the child scramble away from him towards the other two he quickly obliged sliding the choker on around his neck and tying it in the back. Touching the little metal disk he called out the words to activate a miraculous that wasn’t his own. “Accalia, Paws On!” He felt the magic wash over him but it had a different feel this time as the wolf kwami was sucked into the miraculous transforming him into the new Lupine Alpha.

[miraculoustrashblogger]

Season of Miracles Chapter 12

It’s the second last chapter!  What’s this?  A reveal?  Romance?  Alya freaking the fuck out?  Ding ding ding!

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 X  13

AO3

December 26th

Chat Noir leapt through the air, taking a somersaulting dive onto a roof, before leaping up again and vaulting over his baton to the next roof.  The Eiffel tower was lit, as were the street lamps on the dark winter night.

He thought back to his day and chuckled.

He had begun the morning wondering if it had all been a dream.  It seemed far too good to be true, but upon seeing the video frame his father had given him, alongside his gifts from his other friends, he knew there was no way it wasn't real.

That knowledge was compounded by the fact that when he went downstairs to eat breakfast, his father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.  Even better, he set the paper aside and the two chatted while they ate breakfast.  Gabriel had decided to come to the photo shoot and spend the day with him, after all, and shortly after they ate, they were out the door.

Arriving at the studio, several usually quite amicable staff members seemed quite nervous.  Adrien was used to having many of the same staff members in charge of wardrobe, makeup and lighting, so they had had a lot of time to get over the fact that his father was their boss, and treat him like a normal teen.  Gabriel's presence clearly changed the atmosphere into one of efficient professionalism, much like the one Gabriel exuded most days.

Otherwise, the shoot went as normal, until after lunch break.

Gabriel was looking over the wardrobe collection for the shoot, when he noticed something.

“I do not recall approving these for the shoot.”  He said, holding up two outfits, in their open garment bags.

One of the interns paled.  “A-ah, that's mine, sir.”

“And what is it doing in the line-up here?”  Gabriel asked coolly.

“I-I umm-- You see, I'm friends with the photographer, and it was a personal project I was doing, and he agreed to take photos when we were done today if I found someone to model them--”

“You designed these?”

“Yessir!”  Her face couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be ghost white or strawberry red.

“And you put them side by side with the garments for todays work, why?”

“T-there was no where else to hang them up...sir.”

“What if they had been mixed up with pieces for the shoot?”  He asked sternly.

“I knew that was a possibility, but I made sure anyone who was handling the clothes knew they were mine.  Including the supervisor, Yvonne.”

Gabriel looked around. “Yvonne!”  When the woman came over to where he stood, he held up the garments to her.  “What are these pieces here?”  He asked her.

“They are Elise's.”

“So you are aware they were put side by side with the pieces for today?”

“She explained it to me before she hung them up.  What her and the photographer do outside of company hours is their business, I saw no harm as long as everyone knew.”  Elise had gone pale again, and even Yvonne seemed to be threatening to sweat under his scrutiny.

Gabriel pulled out the items from their bag and looked them over.  He tugged gently at seams, examined stitches, and felt the fabric under his hands.

“Elise, what is this personal project of yours?”  Gabriel raised a brow.

“Oh!  Um.. I uh....” She turned beet red again.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I'mbuildingaportfolio!” She stammered.

“A portfolio?”

“Yes... I uh... was going to apply for full time work after my internship finished, and I wanted to show what I learned during my time with your company.  My old portfolio has become a bit dated in styles, and I can sew a lot better now, so I was building up a collection, and wanted to show my work was good enough to be modeled too.”  Her voice slowly dropped off in volume, until she was barely heard.

Gabriel pondered at the girl, who was now staring at the ground, her hands pulling at the hem of her blouse.

“Were going to apply to my company?  Tell the truth.”

“Yes... among others.”  She answered.  “I wanted to keep my options open, as I figured not all of them would say yes to me.”

He examined the clothes again.  It was a detailed dressy black vest with zippers and a forest green liner, paired with dress slacks and a light green button up.  The buttons and zippers all matched--gold-- and the cuffs of the dress shirt matched the green liner of the vest.

“Adrien, go change into these.”  He handed him the garment bags.

“Ah, sir!”  Elise interrupted.  Gabriel looked at her with one eyebrow raised.  “It's just... only one of those will probably fit him.  The blue one is meant for someone larger.”

“Ah.  I see.  What was the theme you were going for?”

“I was kind of thinking a pair of brothers, sir.  We have a few male models here today, and I hoped that if I could find two that looked close enough, it would do.  I mean, I knew it might not happen, so I was ready to work with what I had, so...”

Gabriel took back the outfits and examined the blue one.

“Familial bonds, yes?  That was the theme you wanted for the photos?”

“Yessir.”

“Very well, I will wear it.”  And he started over to the changing area.

Elise looked like she was about ready to faint.

Gabriel and Adrien ended up doing a series of photos together, wearing the matching outfits.  The sky blue shirt and royal blue and silver accents of the vest suited Gabriel very well.  The fits were close enough that it only required a little bit of tailoring, which Elise attended to quickly and skillfully.

When they finished the shoot, Gabriel returned the outfits to Elise, who seemed to have actually fainted somewhere during the process.  She was fanning herself and had gone pale again, and Yvonne and another intern were puttering over her as she sat in a chair.

“May I please speak with Miss Elise alone please?”  Yvonne and the intern seemed surprised, and after assurances that the girl was fine, they left.

“I should hope now that if anyone sees your portfolio and sees the faces of myself and my son, that it should earn you enough respect to get hired in any company you choose.  I do hope, however, that you will choose mine. I would hate to lose such a talented employee.”

The girl was flustered and stammered out her thank you's and praises of his kindness.

As he walked away he gestured for Adrien to follow.  They left the shoot and climbed into the car, before Gabriel spoke quietly.  “That, Adrien, is how you build a team that is loyal.  That girl will remember my actions for a long time to come, and even if one day she is my biggest competitor, I can trust she won't stab me in the back.”  He looked down and smiled at his son.

Adrien grinned.  “So you're telling me... be nice to people and they won't be jerks in return?  I think I already knew that one.”  He sassed.

Gabriel smirked, and then mussed up his son's hair.

As Chat Noir raced to his meeting place with Ladybug, his mind returned to the problem at hand.  Marinette had most likely read his poem by now, and if she was half as smart as he thought she was, he was about to get scolded pretty badly.  She had always been a stickler for secret identities, and he knew she would at least be a little mad that he figured her out and left clues about his.  Of course, if she wasn't Ladybug... well, that was a whole new can of worms.

He landed on the roof right as Marinette-- Ladybug-- did.

“Good evening, Chat Noir.”  She said nonchalantly.

He was suddenly really nervous.  He was expecting a few different ways for this to go down, and for her to be nonchalant, it most likely meant he guessed wrong.

“H-H--” He cleared his throat. “Hey Ladybug!”  He smiled.

There was the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, but it disappeared very quickly.

“Ready for patrol, Chaton?”  She asked.

“Y-Yeah.” He gulped.  “Let's go.”  The pair, Ladybug leading slightly, ran to the edge of the roof, and vaulted off.  Chat purposely fell behind a little, gauging every movement she made, looking for any hint that she knew.  Please don't let me have been wrong.  Please.

Despite his worry, watching her made his heart swell.  Marinette or not, Ladybug was a beauty-- graceful and strong and breath-taking as she swung off streetlamps, hopped across roofs, and dived off of chimneys.  The street lights reflected off of her hair, and sparkled in her eyes.

If he hadn't already been in love with her for the better part of a year, he probably would have fallen from this sight alone.

She completely ignored him as they scouted the city, apparently oblivious to his heart palpitations, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of trouble.  Her lack of signal so far was making him anxious.  Should he just rip off the band-aid and bring it up?  Should he see if she was going to say anything?

He felt there was a pun in there somewhere, something involving Shrodinger's cat, but he couldn't quite figure out how to phrase it.

Finally, the heroes paused on the rooftop of Notre Dame cathedral to take a breather.

Ladybug stretched, looking out over the city.  She walked to the edge and sat down, dangling her ankles off the side.  She patted the space next to her, gesturing for him to come join her.  He obliged.

“How was your Christmas, Chat?”  She asked.

Was this an opening?  An opportunity to ask her carefully, to open the box enough to peek at the cat and determine it's state?

“The best Christmas ever.”  He answered honestly, smiling.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Was that a mischievous twinkle in her eye?  No, must have been his imagination.

“I spent it with a very good friend of mine.”  He thought for a moment.  “She's probably the kindest person I've ever met. Stubborn too.  I don't know how she managed it, but she actually got my father to spend Christmas with me.  He hasn't done that in years. She's incredible.”  He looked very deliberately at her.

Her face turned crimson, and he took it as a sign that maybe she knew more than she was letting on.  Time to amp it up, then.

“Not only that, she's beautiful.”  He stated, carefully turning his head away, pretending he wasn't talking about the girl next to him, but watched her every move still.  “She lights up a room just by being in it, and really brings out the best in people.”

Ladybug was motionless, mouth slightly agape as she stared at him.  He turned back to look.

“What's the matter Ladybug?  Cat got your tongue?”  He grinned.  “Or is it jealousy?”  He teased.

She shook her head.  “Silly kitty.  It just really sounds a lot like you love her.”

He looked at her, held her gaze for a few moments.  He watched the night breeze brush her bangs across her forehead, watched the light twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes.

“I do.” He said softly.

A slight, sharp intake of breath from her, and he was paralyzed.  The two stared at each other, locked in a moment, both too afraid to move, too enraptured to try.  Time seemed to still, neither really sure how long they sat there, motionless, trapped in the moment. Finally, Ladybug spoke.

“I love you too, Adrien.”  She breathed.

His eyes widened.  It's her.  It's really her.  Marinette.  She's Ladybug!  His mind repeated over and over.

She said she loves me!  It finally settled on.

His hand fumbled over to hers, he refused to break eye contact to look at what he was doing.

Taking it, he felt a lot of tension leave his body.  Perhaps the worry of it not being real, the fear of waking up from this dream.  But she was corporeal, she was physically there, and it was real, so very, very real.  Adrien.  She called him.  Adrien.  He was over the moon in excitement.

“Marinette.” He whispered, smiling.

She smiled back shyly.

She is so beautiful when she smiles.  Her cheeks are so cute, and her eyes shine, and her lips...

Caught up in the thought of how soft and kissable her lips looked, and curiosity about her lipgloss flavour, Chat leaned in slowly, his eyes closing ever so slightly.  She leaned in too, and the two hovered, centimeters apart.  His free hand found it's way up to her cheek, caressing it gently.

“C-Can I-I...”  He stammered.  He breathed in, and tried again.  “Can I kis—mmph!”

Ladybug's hands went to his face and pulled him, closing the distance between the two.  Her passion triggered something in him, and once his lips began moving against hers, he was hard pressed to stop it-- not that he wanted to, really.

It turned out her lip gloss was cherry flavoured, and he smiled.  He started humming the tune to “I Kissed A Girl” until Ladybug snorted and pushed him away.

“Way to ruin the moment, Chat.”

“I'd say it was worth it, but I'm really torn.  I wasn't done yet.”  He laughed.

She smirked and rolled her eyes.  This time she leaned in slower, their kiss beginning slowly and gently.  The glide of her sweet lips against his left him breathless, and when his tongue gently swept across her lips, she returned the motion with her own.  His hands wandered down her arms while they kissed, to her waist, while one of hers buried itself in his hair, and the other rested on his chest.

After a few blissful minutes, they broke apart naturally.

“You know...”  Ladybug said, reaching up to gently boop his nose.  “I was going to try and make you sweat first.  Pretend I didn't know anything.  Kinda backfired on me though, what with you turning into such a sap.”

“Oh, you had me sweating, don't worry.”  He chuckled, sitting upright now.  “I wasn't even sure it was you, so your silence on it was super nerve-wracking.”

“Wait. You wrote me that poem, and you weren't even sure you were right?”  She said, a little sharper than she intended.

“Uh... yeah.”  He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh no, now I really wished I had dragged that out longer. It would have been proper revenge for risking your identity!”  She playfully smacked his arm.

“To be fair, I was like, 95% sure.  There was no solid evidence, but way too many coincidences at once.”

“Ninety-five percent sure... with no solid evidence.”  She clucked her tongue. “Chat, you are clawsitively purr-paw-sterous.”  She smirked.

“Hey, now.  I was right and--- wait, did you just make a cat pun?”

“I made three, but who's counting?”  She teased.

“I love you.”  He swooned.

She snorted.  “Love you too... you mangy cat.”

“I'm your mangy cat, lovebug.  Long as you'll have me.”

“That's quite the commitment to make, seeing as I'm thinking forever.” She smiled, blushing deeply, looking off to the horizon.

He sat straighter, grinning from ear to ear.  “Furr-ever sounds purr-fect, my Lady.”

“Is it really necessary to include more puns?”

“Part of the package, bugaboo.  I wouldn't be me without my sense of humour.”

She hummed.  “I guess you don't really need your Christmas gift then...”

He perked up.  “What does my Christmas gift have to do with this?” He asked.

“Open it and find out.”  She said, handing him a moderately sized package.  Judging by the shape, size and weight, he was guessing it was a book of some kind.

“Where were you hiding this?”  He asked skeptically.

“Just open it!”

“No seriously, this is the size of my computer tablet, where did you hide this, and how did I not notice until now?”

“Oh shush.  You already know who I am under the mask, let me have some mystery, huh?”  She rolled her eyes.

He grumbled under his breath about secret pocket dimensions as he unwrapped the gift.  He had guessed right, it was a book.  A joke book, titled “No Pun Intended”.  His smile grew wider and wider.

“My Lady, here I thought you hated my puns, but you actually are supporting my habit?  I'm shocked!”

“Maybe it was never the puns I disliked and more the timing of them.”  She smirked.

He laughed.  “Alright, alright.  But you totally make puns during akuma attacks too!”

“Never!” She scoffed.  “When have I ever done such a thing?”  She gestured dramatically before breaking out in a grin.  He smiled back at her.

“I have your gift here too.”  He said, pulling out a small box.

It was a suspiciously shaped and sized box, and as Ladybug tensed up, Chat gestured for her to relax.

“I know what you're thinking, and I promise it's not that.  I mean, it is that, but it's no-- you know what?  Just open it.”

He handed her the box.  She stared at it in her hands, and his tail twitched in impatience.  She opened it cautiously, her eyes flicking to his hopeful and embarrassed expression, until she caught sight of the contents.  It was a beautiful ring, with a round red ruby, nestled in between two emerald triangular jewels.  It sort of resembled a rose with leaves, but the fact that it also looked kind of like a Ladybug on a leaf wasn't lost on her.  The band was delicate and simple silver, shaped around the gems carefully.

“It's not an engagement ring.  I may be incredibly socially awkward, but even I know it's way too early for that.  It is a promise ring, though.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  She looked up at him, her surprise and awe apparent.  “I saw it and couldn't help but think of you, and when I began suspecting you were Marinette, and her-- your birthstone is a ruby...”  She stared at it again, and her continued silence set him on edge.  “I-If you don't like it, I can take it back and trade it for something else.  Unless the fact that it's a ring is making you uncomfortable, in which case I totally understa--”

He was silenced by her finger on his lips.

“It's perfect, Adrien.  I love it.”  She smiled, and he relaxed.  “But doesn't a promise ring require an actual promise to go with it?” She asked.

“Y-Yeah.” He stood up, pulling her to her feet too.  He took the ring from her, and knelt on one knee.  “I-- uhh... don't know if I'm actually supposed to go down on one knee for a promise ring or not, but I figure it wouldn't hurt, right?”  She giggled, and he pressed on, clearing his throat.  “Ladybug, since the day I met you, you have been the best part of every one of my days.  I know I can trust and rely on you, and seeing you being the brave, compassionate, and brilliant person you are has made me want to be the best person I can be.  I promise, for the rest of my lives, to protect you, to cherish you, and to always stand by you.  I promise to be your friend, your partner, and your reason to smile each day.”

“I accept your promise, Chat Noir.”  She smiled.  “On one condition.”

His ears twitched in surprise. “What's that?”

“You accept my promise to do the exact same for you.”  

He blushed, then grinned.  “I accept your terms, my Lady.”

He put the ring on her left hand index finger, and sighed in relief when it was the right size.  He had taken a guess-- if Alya had caught wind of him even breathing the words “ring” and “Marinette” in the same sentence, he's sure he would be deaf for a week.

As soon as the ring was on her finger all the way, she pulled him up into a kiss by his bell, and riding along her enthusiasm, he picked her up and spun her around.  She squeaked into his lips, but it just made him laugh, and soon they were both giggling and holding each other, foreheads touching.

“I love you, Bugaboo.”

“I love you too, Minou.”

“THIS IS THE BIGGEST SCOOP OF THE CENTURY!  LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR ARE ENGAGED!  HOLY FUCK!”  Both heros heads whipped around, finally spotting the source.  Alya stood there, phone in hand, clad in pyjamas, and apparently still out of breath from running after them. “I PROBABLY JUST BROKE SEVERAL LAWS GETTING UP HERE BUT HOLY HELL WAS IT WORTH IT OH MY FUCKING GOD AND I GOT IT ON CAMERA!!!”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other in shock, snorted and laughed, and started running for the edge of the roof together, holding hands. They leapt from the roof, Alya calling after them.  As they leapt across the city, Chat spoke.

“How much trouble are we in?”  He asked.

“I think we're okay.” Ladybug replied.  “She called it an engagement ring, which means I don't think she was close enough to see the ring, hear names, or anything.  She probably only caught the last little bit.  We will see for sure when we see her next, no way she's keeping that to herself.  We can do damage control from there.”

They paused on a roof.  “Yeah, I think you're right.  Do we let her believe that Ladybug and Chat Noir are engaged though?”

“Maybe we should let her believe it.”  Ladybug suggested, smirking.  “It is only a matter of time until it's true anyways, right?”  She winked, before hopping off the roof.

Adrien stared after her, rooted to the spot.  Only a matter of time...?

He started scrambling after her.  “Ladybug!  Wait up!  What does that mean?!”

She just giggled and swung further away.

Marinette, you tease!  (I think she just stole one of Chat’s remaining lives)

Alya did indeed break into a cathedral in the middle of the night in her pyjamas.  Silly girl.  Maybe she was hoping for some Christmas canoodling!  (She certainly got her christmas wish!)

Stay tuned for the final installment of this fic!  New Years!

[britishstorypapers]

Brain teasers, Bessie Bunter’s cooking, and a sewing pattern for a gas-mask case.  

BRAIN TEASERS A few more puzzles and catches for leisure moments.

1.  How can you show that 6 is half of 11? That’s just a trick, and you need pencil and paper to prove how it can be done. Now two riddles: 2.  Which county of England is the most studious? 3.  If your uncle’s sister is not your aunt, what relation is she to you? They’re both quite good, I think, and you’ll find the answers at the end. 4.  Next see if you can change the word LAND to SEAS, making only three changes - but each change must form a separate word, remember. My next one is an old favourite - but some of you may not know it. 5.  Go up to a chum and say: “Can you spell hungry horse in four letters?”  Maybe she’ll give it up as hopeless, in which case, you promptly tell her the answer - below. 6.  Another riddle now.  What fruit appears on every penny?

THE ANSWERS Now here are the answers.  Remember to hide them if you’re trying these puzzles on the family. 1.  Write 11 in Roman figures, XI.  Now cover this with a piece of paper, so that it looks like VI.  And there you are. 2.  Berkshire: because it has a whole town in it that is always Reading. 3.  She would be your mother. 4.  LAND, Lend, Lead, Leas, SEAS. 5.  M T G G (empty gee-gee - see?) 6.  The date.

HOBBIES AT CLIFF HOUSE MISS HILDA RICHARDS and PATRICIA have planned this series of articles for you, to tell you about the hobbies of some of the best-known characters at Cliff House School.

This Week: BESSIE BUNTER Cooking - that’s our Bessie’s favourite hobby.  And she’s expert at it, too.  You mustn’t think that because Bessie is a bit of a dream over other things that she bungles “the culinary art.” [...] Her pastry is said to be the lightest in the school, and Bessie says that’s because she’s got a “fairy touch.” This may sound a bit romantic, but actually there’s sense in it.  For two girls can be given exactly the same ingredients, work to the same time, use the same type of pastry board and roller, the same oven even - and yet one girl’s pastry will melt in your mouth, while the other is just - well, ordinary.  The secret does lie in “the touch.” Light handling of cooking utensils is one of Bessie’s knacks. And there is nothing to make her shiny face beam more than to bring from the oven a crispy pie that looks almost too tempting to be real. The frying of sausages may sound rather easy.  But Bessie always insists that they require skill, too - and I’m inclined to agree with her. “You should always prick the sausages first before putting them into the pan,” says Bessie. “Do this with a sharp-pronged fork.  It allows the sausages to swell, without making them burst all over the place.” The fat should be heated before the sausages are popped into the pan, too.  Allow them to cook gently and then turn up the gas, or increase the heat to “brown them off,” to give them that crunchy flavour. Bessie has a favourite cookery book that she often looks at - just for pleasure. A “Mrs. Beeton.”  It doesn’t sound very exciting - but Bessie loves it!  It was a cookery prize. Next Week: JEMIMA CARSTAIRS.

A NEW CASE FOR YOUR GAS-MASK

Here is the pattern of the gas-mask case.  If you follow the measurements carefully you can’t go wrong.

Lots of you already have a case for covering the cardboard box in which your gas-mask is, I know.  But then, some of you haven’t.  And there are still others of you who may have a pretty enough case, but require a new one for the winter months - one that is completely waterproof. So that’s why I’ve designed one for you.  It’s very simple to cut out if you follow the diagram exactly, and just as easy to make up. Now what material will you make it in? I suggest gaily-coloured American cloth, or that pretty, patterned oil-silk.  You’ll only need half a yard of either material - and this should cost about 6d.

A PATTERN FIRST First take a good look at the diagram here, then cut a piece of paper measuring 20 inches one way and 16 the other.  (This is to serve as a pattern, so that there will be no fear of your spoiling the precious material.) With a pencil mark the centre of the long sides and the centre of the short sides. Now mark the line G, F, which measures 3 inches on each side of the pencil mark on the 20-inch side. Turn the paper round, and mark A, C, which also measures 3 inches on either side of the pencil mark there. After turning your paper round again so that line G, F, is nearest to you, now cut from G for 5 inches.  Do the same from F.  Then turn and repeat from A and C. Next, cut from these corners towards the right and left sides of the paper - that is, towards H, E, D, and B. You now have the essential shape.  Now you can do a little trimming off of corners as shown on the right of the diagram. The next step is some careful folding.  All the dotted lines in the diagram represent folds.  Place the cardboard case of your gas-mask on the pattern, and then fold up to make sure your measurements are correct.

CAREFUL CUTTING There - having the pattern correct, you can use it as a guide for cutting out the material itself.  Pin it to the paper pattern so that it doesn’t slip, and wield the scissors carefully.  It’s quite tricky - but not difficult, if you go gently and don’t get flustered. The cutting-out done, you now have four joins to make. Allowing half an inch for turnings, join A to B, C to D, E to F, and G to H.  These seams should be five inches long and the corners should be neatly tucked in. Now you must either hem or bind the other raw edges.  I think binding in that pretty bias-binding or with tape would look best - and it’s stronger, too.

STRONG STITCHING Sew two buttons on the straight edge that folds over the top of your case, and make two buttonholes on the shaped end. Your case should now fit neatly into this, and button close on top. It’s now complete except for the strap.  This can be made, as long or as short as you like, from the oddments of material you cut away, joining them into a long strip, and turning inside out. If you can use the family machine, I certainly should for this job, but if not, sew in strong back-stitching. And if you find the slightest difficulty in doing the cutting out yourself, do ask a grown-up to help you.  I’ve made the diagram as simple as possible, but I do realise that they can be a bit baffling to follow if you’re not made that way.

The Schoolgirl Nov 11, 1939.

[jovialcandypeace-blog]

13 home Planning Tips allow Jazz increase Home!

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