#all single crochet which i think is neat!

[solstheimtxt]

I finished my blanket and it kinda looks like shit lmao :') but its done!!! 🥰🎉🎉🎉 i have no idea why the top is so wide, but idc its done lmaooo

[shiro-00s]

heaven on earth

41. one step closer .. !

[ genshin impact smau / idol!xiao x fem!reader ]

The sky was pretty, especially today. There were a few lanterns that were already up in the sky, illuminating the sky with spots of yellow here and there. The festival had a ton of small festive shops, selling traditional masks, and a few fun games. All leading up to the main attraction. The stage.

Among all the attractive stores, nothing could take away the glory that the stage presents, the kind that catches everyone’s eyes. It stood tall among the festival, a view you could see from any angle, and was included in every selfie taken.

The outdoor concert had a whole area to itself, a space waiting to be filled with loads and loads of people, and you had no doubt that it would be filled to the brim. The stage lights illuminate the large stage in the center of the space, giving the platform a much-needed spotlight. A few speakers that looked like they could destroy an eardrum were placed on the stage along with fog machines.

You nervously handed the staff the ticket gifted by your dear friend, Hutao, who you really wanted to strangle because of the dilemma she put you in, an all-or-nothing. You’d have given them a heads up, telling them to meet up with you but you hadn’t contacted a single soul about you coming to this concert.

Why? You had a huge ego. And you really, really didn’t want anyone to know that you were going to Xiao’s concert.

After the whole fiasco with Xiao-Yujin, the internet was skeptical, rightfully, due to it coming from PAIMON, who was the master at making things up. You were skeptical as well, but you were petty and you didn’t really want to go out of your way to ask him. Well, you’re doing it now.

So, after making up your mind about coming to Xiao’s concert - which took a long time - you reluctantly came to the concert with the words Hutao told you lingering in the back of your mind.

It’s about honoring his lost companions.

When the staff had verified your ticket, you looked around for something to do before the concert started. In an attempt to distract yourself, you found a small store that sold and taught the art of crocheting. Well, it does look cute. Why not?

A lady in her early 40s greeted you kindly, a gentle smile on her face as she showed you around the neat stall. When you seemed a little too puzzled, she asked, “Are there any crocheted flowers you’re looking for, dear?”

You blinked. Oh, that startled you.

You didn’t think the lady was one to talk but it seemed you were wrong. Shaking your head, you replied with a small ‘I’m afraid not.’ and a sheepish grin. The lady hummed at your response, looking around at her flowers before finally asking, “Who are you planning to give it to?”

You inhale, “Do you think I’m going to give it to someone?” Chuckling, your eyes scanned around for a simple flower, or anything pretty really, you didn’t mind. Since the lady was nice, you’d give it a shot, for her sake. You’ll give it to Hutao or Xiangling. Whatever.

The nice lady smiled, looking as if she was feeling some nostalgia before saying, “I’m well aware of the look in your eyes. I had the same one when I was your age, you know? Those longing eyes as if you’re waiting for someone.”

Suddenly you wish you didn’t enter this store or come to this festival.

Relaxing your shoulders and neck, you hunched down a little to stare at the flower that caught your eyes at the bottom of the stall.

“I don’t know. Really.”

The lady beside you crouched down to the same level as you, resting her face on her hand as she smiled a little before pointing at the flowers your eyes laid upon.

“Those are hyacinthus. If we’re talking about Greek mythology, Hyacinth is a divine hero who falls in love with Apollo and chooses him over 3 other beings.” She paused, picking up the hyacinthus and grabbing your wrist gently with her free hand.

“But eventually, he was killed accidentally by Apollo. Then he was resurrected again, by his lover and was gifted with immortality as well.” She let the flowers fall into your hands softly, the three crochet hyacinth flowers laying atop each other.

“That’s why its symbolism is devotion beyond the depths of life and death.”

Over the next thirty minutes, more people arrived at the festival along with the concert. The empty space from before had transformed into a mob of people. If you lose something here, you’re never getting it back. That’s why you held onto the flowers with a tight grip even if you didn’t have plans to give them to anyone. Totally.

Your hands were clammy from having to glance around you every 5 seconds in case one of your friends saw you. To say that you were dreading meeting them was an understatement. You’d dig the floor and bury yourself alive if they saw even a glimpse of you.

Reaching for your phone to look at the clock, the sound of a loud screeching noise reached your ears. The noise of microphone feedback alerted everyone to the beginning of a thrilling performance. The anticipation in the air was visible, and the atmosphere filled with excitement and eagerness of the crowd.

The beam lights lit up one after another from the left to the right, the floodlights following right after. The stage, the one piece of art that held the attention of everyone, was then adorned with shining bright lights. The soft glow highlighted the display of the new presence.

Along the stage stood four well-known individuals, the spotlights captured each artist in their glory, possessing an aura demanding attention. The crowd erupted into applause and gasps, the wildness they’ve been since the start. The presence of each spoke volume, all of which were hard to ignore. Each of them had a headset engraved to the side of their face around the ear and the mic extending to their lips. Their outfits are all unique and well-planned, matching the theme of the festival by adding a little bit of gold and black, which complemented their bodies greatly. Especially, Xiao, you think. You’re caught off-guard when the familiar dark-haired man’s head twisted and turned, almost as if he was looking for something - someone. You felt a little satisfied at the sight, the gears turning in your head even if you’re not too sure.

The soft sound of the instruments started to play in the background almost immediately, catching the audience by surprise. The first voice to speak is a feminine voice. Confusion erupted in the audience as none of the mouths on the stage looked as though they were moving.

That was until a certain figure walked onto the stage. Yunjin was dressed with a black corset above her black crop top that seemed to hug her curves well. Her skirt was adorned with golden trinkets and intricate patterns. On top of her clothing, she wore multiple accessories that matched the outfit significantly with her pastel-colored headband of flowers and a short warm white scarf around her neck.

Other voices joined in soon yet your attention laid still on one specific person, one you’re unable to tear your eyes away from. Even as people around you started to bump lightly into you from swaying to the music, your eyes refused to move from the spot they had settled on. Xiao and his pretty, pretty eyes.

His body moved along with the beats of the song, lips softly opening and closing as he sang with his members. Wearing a dark-colored jacket, his clothing is layered with another white button-up shirt underneath and if you looked very closely, you might just be able to see his abs - okay, enough. The point is, you’ve never appreciated someone as much as you did with the person who arranged Xiao’s outfit because the conclusion is that you had never seen anyone as majestic as Xiao and you didn’t believe you ever will for the rest of your life.

Even his navy slacks looked perfect while he danced to the choreography which you believed was carefully planned, anyone could tell even if they didn’t know anything about dancing. You’re not sure how he moved with those slightly heeled boots or shoes, you don’t know and you don’t care. The question is how he moved so smoothly even with those heavy shoes that you knew you would fall and trip on if you wore them?

When your eyes returned to his golden ones, you noticed the pupils shooting in all directions, searching the VIPS, the front, the reserved, the platinum, the platinum plus - you get the point.

You doubted he would be able to spot you in this… what? Fifty thousand hoards of people? That’s an estimate but it was way too crowded and even though your spot wasn’t too far from the stage, he wouldn’t be able to possibly find you like this, right?

Yea, wrong. Because as soon as your thought process ended, the flash of golden eyes seemed to glance across your own and stopped for more than a second - before seemingly relaxing and tearing his gaze away. Though it was just a moment, everything had started to drown out in the background, going quiet before all you can think about is - Xiao, Xiao, Xiao.

After snapping out of your thoughts, one thing you can confirm after listening to the lyrics and melody was that it was indeed a rather solemn story that had been turned into a song. It matched the description that Hutao told you about. The need to comfort Xiao clawed at the back of your throat. You’d have to hold it back until the concert ended. Wait, what?

No, the plan was to watch and leave. But… ahaha.

The concert seemed to pass like a blur in your memories, your lack of focus only helped in not being aware of your surroundings because - oops, you just bumped into some crazily tall dude with hair longer than half of your body? Those odd professional clothing made him look wild but weirdly cool, but to be real, why did he choose them out of everything to wear to a concert? Multiple layers of different shades of brown and a mix of white or gray in this humid and stifling atmosphere.

He seemed more shocked than you it seems, but you’re sure it’s not your clothes because he was looking straight at your face, not your outfit. The brown-haired ponytailed man opened his mouth to speak to you, which is odd because you didn’t know this man, did you?

“Is your name, [name], by any chance? Which, of course, if it’s not, you’re free to say so.”

Okay. Definitely a stalker or something, run.

In contrast to your light-speed thoughts, your body stood still in its spot, not making any attempt to move. Then, against your better judgment, you muttered, “Yea, who are you?”, accompanied by a raise of your brow and a step back.

At your response, his lips seemed to quirk up, a ghost of a heartwarming smile on his face as he reached a hand out to you.

“I go by Zhongli, may I have a moment with you, [name]?”

On the other hand, the concert had just ended. The fatigue and a thirst for water washed over Xiao quickly as he rushed to grab a bottle before trying to slip away to find… someone.

However, a deep voice reached his ears, “Xiao! Don’t go yet, wait for a while!”

God he wished he could just turn around and punch the smiling ginger head waving at him from across the backstage, he had had enough of Childe and him intervening. A sign came from Xiao before he turned back to Childe, mind racing for an excuse so that he can leave him behind and slip away to find you. Just as Xiao’s lips parted, Childe had taken the initiative.

“Before you say anything, I know where you’re going, who you’re planning to find, what you’re going to do.”

That shut Xiao up even if it wasn’t like Xiao was a particularly talkative person. His brow twitched at the knowledge the older male had, annoyance dripping from his tone as he spoke.

“Okay? Bye then.”

Xiao turned away to walk towards the decreasing crowd, grieving the time that he lost spent with Childe. At his actions, the ginger sighed, long and exasperated. Not having the energy to physically deal with Xiao, he decided to use his words, “Zhongli said he told her to go to the place, that place. You know what I’m talking about.”

Pause.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

Xiao believed wholeheartedly he had never felt emotions on this level. Hell, he never really felt any more than annoyance like this. Xiao thinks you’ve been changing him. Little by little, piece by piece, he’ll become an ordinary person going about with his day. Just like how they would’ve wanted.

Shaking away his thoughts, he took small steps towards the area informed by Childe just a moment ago and a while ago through dms when he asked Childe for vacant places with a magnificent view. He didn’t know whether he wanted to run there, reach out for you and just stare at you for a good while or walk slow, slow steps, so that his hopes didn’t get crushed by the possibility that you didn’t listen to Zhongli.

The grass tickled the black shoes that he changed to after the concert due to the initial pair of boots literally being impossible to walk with. The wind is gentle, the view is just as he had described to Childe, ethereal. But, maybe not more than you.

Liyue as a whole could be seen from this spot in the mountains, the warm yellow lights from lanterns illuminating the dark sky and the city, the city he never thought could look this breathtaking. Shivers went down his spine as he continued to look around. The night looked especially pretty tonight.

Just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to find anything prettier on this extraordinary night, an almost silent sound of rustling nearby. When he looked up, sweet amber eyes met your wide ones. An expression of relief fell on his face as his eyes scanned you. Then, he concluded that maybe, he had a special view specifically meant for him. You looked divine.

Wait. What? You guys were friends, he shouldn’t have such thoughts. Do friends think of each other this way? Ugh, his head is spinning.

After a moment, you reached your hand out to gesture at him to take a seat beside you on the green grass. He hesitantly took his spot beside yours, shuffling to make himself comfortable as he admired the view.

Silence took over soon after, both too hesitant and unknowing of what to say, and what not to say. But then again, with this view, on this night, on the top of this little hill, it felt right. It felt right that he knew he couldn’t mess up, this could be an ultimate moment for the two of you. A memory to make.

“[Name], you listened to the song I sang earlier.”

Confusion was etched on your face as you turned your head to face the dark-haired man, blinking rapidly at him before responding with a small nod.

“I wrote it. About the people who were- are special to me.” It’s hard opening up to people. He cringed at the mistake he made with that sentence. Although, he couldn’t really call it a mistake, could he?

“I lived in an orphanage once, along with four other kids who were older than me. That time I was like how I am now, quiet, but they got me to open up in a short time.” Xiao’s slender fingers curled up against the grass, looking solemn as he continued. “Especially the oldest one there, Bosacius.”

Your heart warmed up at his words, brushing your knuckles against his curled-up hand in an attempt to bring comfort to him. You had not heard about his life before, and it hurt to know that he went through hard times. You tilted your head to the side a little, an invitation for him to continue.

He cleared his throat before gazing back at the lanterns slowly rising to reach out to the sky, “They were everything to me, my family. Along with Zhongli, who was the one that helped fund us and visited us a lot. Madame Ping, too. She was our caretaker. Apparently, Zhongli was friends with her, I learned that later on.”

Xiao breathed a long breath before continuing with his talking. You were happy to get to know his found family, but he looked sorrowful as he talked. Maybe something bad happened between them?

“It was the best of times, but good things never last.” This time, his words were muttered, and quieter, as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“Our house. It got caught on fire.” Xiao took a big breath before concluding, “They, uhm, didn’t make it out. Was it some electrical fault? I didn’t bother to remember. I was too shocked to think.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t expect him to drop a bomb on you like that. You couldn’t muster up a reply to something like that. So instead of a verbal response, you hesitantly uncurled his fisted fingers and laced yours through them, stroking his skin with your palm.

Xiao took your physical touch as a sign of showing your condolences without pitying him. His heart warmed at the thought, heart beating a little faster. “Bosacius carried me from our bedroom to the hallway with the entrance. He was trying to do the same for others, too. But it didn’t work out quite well.” The last words were whispered, his head hunched down to his knees.

You tightened your grip on your laced fingers, bumping his shoulder with yours as you finally mustered up something to say to Xiao - for the first time today. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Tone softening to accommodate the solemn atmosphere and an attempt to say something meaningful to him after he opened up to you. That explains the song, too.

Unexpectedly, Xiao turned to you with a refreshed look on his face, as he - out of nowhere - asked, “Did you enjoy the concert?” Like a lost puppy, his eyes stared into your shocked ones. After a few moments of silence, you decided on the best answer you can come up with.

“Yeah, you were awesome.” From bumping your shoulders to leaning your head slightly on his shoulder, sure it's a big leap. But, you didn’t receive any sort of rejection from the male beside you. On the other hand, his heart rate told you a different story. His usually steady heart rate had turned more erratic, you couldn't blame him either when your own matched his unsteady beats.

"That PAIMON tweet is an exaggeration." Xiao muttered into the silence of the air. At those unexpected words, you laughed wholly, as if you couldn't guess that already. But oh well, his reassurance did sound nice. Xiao was in his own little world, his thoughts consisted of how nice and soothing the sound of your sweet laughter was. A small smile bloomed onto his pretty face, watching you smile back at him with a grin.

A night has never felt more meaningful than it did now, with your head on his shoulder and a cute smile on your face directed at him, Xiao wouldn't have it any other way. And if there's one thing Xiao concluded from today, it was that he was in love with a certain gremlin.

"Oh! Here, I almost forgot." Golden eyes blinked at the crocheted hyacinthus between your fingers, glancing between the flowers and you. Exasperated at his obliviousness, you gestured for him to take them, quirking up a brow.

He suddenly seemed flustered as he shyly took the flowers from your hand, mumbling a "Thank you…?"

A sudden urge to make him more flustered crossed your mind.

"You should search up the meaning of hyacinthus later, by the way."

Xiao gulped before nodding his head slightly, looking back up at the now empty sky. He seemed to only realize now how much time has actually passed.

"Oh, shall we leave?" You mumbled, bringing up your phone from your pocket before looking at the time and collecting your things laying around on the grass. Xiao stood up before you, standing in front of you as he sheepishly reached out his hand to you - for what? The third time today?

You shook your head lightly, laughing slightly before placing your hand on his open ones as he lifted you up.

"What a gentleman."

heaven on earth - 41. one step closer

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synopsis ; 🗝️ — in which you befriend your next door neighbour who, unbeknownst to you, was apart of a soon-to-be one of the most popular bands throughout liyue. you're unable to tell if cupid was helping you or not when things with xiao kept going up and down. will he continue to keep his secret from yours truly?

NOTE — new chapter will be out soon bcs no more written portion for a while (ive said this like 4 times and they never go as planned 🤗🤗) !!@!@! yipee. anyways since he realized his shit its easy here on out 😝😝 rikkyu is not [name] btw her user is just that bcs i got too lazy to give her a proper one mb

TAGLIST#1 [OPEN] — @mikctp @ghostlysyntaxed @kazemiya @nnasv @gojoandelsalovechilde @candy-purple-cyanide @kissingkzuha @zyilas @lunaavity @luminescent-light @mave-in @rizakari @riikyu @kokoscutie @starsxnight @sketcheeee @softlie @izakyun @xiaxilia @the-sweet-madame @rifran @milkwithspiceyicecubes @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @rxkan7 @goodthingimsam @pomeiu @fogturtle @farelady-fate @tzu-scara143 @wonderful-worlds @cianalikesbeans @h3xi2g0n3 @jasxiao2317 @rosaryia

(ask to be added)

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[chickensoupleg]

Mm. Girls.

--

At first it was just a light curiosity.

Heather had been lounging on the couch and scrolling through channels when Chrissy came home, a bag of yarn in her arms.

“Where’d you get that from?” Heather asked her with an amused smile at Chrissy’s clear excitement. She pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek as Chrissy flops beside her, barely bouncing the couch.

“I passed by a yard sale and there was this bin full of just- Yarn? And the lady said it used to be her late grandmother’s collection. She passed away, the poor woman, but nobody else in the family really knows how to crochet, which is what this is for,” Chrissy pulls out a maroon pouch, which she unzips to show Heather the neat row of hooks and needles, “And so they were just gonna sell it. And, well, I don’t know either but then I saw they were also selling some hats and scarves and this whole sweater that this grandma had made and then I thought about how cute it would be to make you one-” Chrissy continued to ramble on and on, Heather listening to her with a small smile on her lips. She would support her little craving, and even if Chrissy just couldn’t figure it out, Heather wouldn’t stop her from trying anyways.

Since then, Chrissy had been learning the craft of crochet. She had borrowed a book from the library and spent a good afternoon just learning the absolutely basics such as chaining the yarn and getting a few single crochet stitches into it.

Oh, the absolute light that radiated from her face when she showed Heather that first single strip was enough to melt her heart.

“It’s looking great, firefly.” Heather told her, Chrissy beaming even more and getting back into it.

It didn’t take long before Chrissy pumped out her first project, a simple red scarf. There was nothing particularly special about it, but by the way Chrissy had presented it to her on that October evening it was as if she was gifting Heather her heart.

In a way she was. Heather had accepted it, and refused to take it off the whole day, even though she never actually left the house. She even wore it in the bed, Chrissy cackling like mad when she threw the scarf’s end over her shoulder in bed, smacking her in the face.

It didn’t take long before Chrissy spent all of her free time just creating new items for her and her friends. She made scarves for everyone they knew, and even a few hats. She learnt new stitches, and by the time December hit, everyone had a matching set of hats, scarves, mittens, and even a single wool sweater crop top thing.

Chrissy made that last one as a jest, but Steve seemed fine with having zero stomach protection. Heather thinks he’s weird for that.

Heather was more impressed she managed to figure out how to make a sweater – partway as it was – in such a short amount of time.

“I have all the time in the world to try,” Chrissy told her as she carefully stacked her new supply of yarn in the box that she designated the yarn box. That was another thing with her new hobby, the new skeins of yarn that Chrissy would come home with. Yarn was pretty expensive, and yet Chrissy always managed to find them for much cheaper at thrift shops or yard sales.

Once she even came home with sweaters just to unravel them for their yarn. Heather helped of course, not wanting Chrissy to just be suffering on her own.

Heather did end up with a nice blanket as thanks for helping, so it wasn’t all that bad.

In February, their neighbour Robin had come with an idea for Chrissy. Maybe that was their downfall.

“You’re pretty good at this. Maybe you should start a shop?” She said. They were just hanging out, Robin wearing the neon red bucket hat Chrissy had made for her. The rim of it was decorated with small stars that Robin had clipped on herself, her fingers messing with one of them.

“Oh, but I’m not sure. I mean, there’s so many people who could do it better!”

“So? You’re great too, Cunningham! Besides, it would be nice side income.”

Heather snorted. “What, like what Harrington does?”

“Everyone likes his chocolate.”

“Steve stress bakes, Buckley. You just made him sell his stress for cold hard cash.”

“Hey, not my fault his kids stress him out to the point of chocolate-induced income. Steve’s agreed to it, it’s fine! Otherwise I will get diabetes, Heather. Diabetes! Do you want be to have totally avoidable diabetes?”

Heather snorted again, louder. Robin smacks her in the arm for that, and the only reason she doesn’t smack her back is because Chrissy did it for her.

“Hey, no hitting my girlfriend.”

“Wh- Oh but you can?!”

“Girlfriend protection rights.” Chrissy chirped, chest puffed out.

Heather was a bit proud of her for that one.

Robin rolled her eyes, continuing on. “Well, think about it. I can get you set up. Maybe Steve can sell some next to all his chocolate, as a test run?”

Chrissy had thought about it for a good 24 hours before she relented. She gave Robin a few extra hats she had made purely out of boredom, plus a few kid sized mittens that she churned out. It was just a test run, and if it failed it failed, no harm done.

Except it didn’t.

Robin had come back from the market with a pile of cash, slapping it eagerly in Chrissy’s surprised hand.

“I told you! People totally loved your stuff!” Robin burst out. “Sold every single one of them, so here’s your earnings! Promise, I didn’t try to steal any of it, this is all yours.” She patted Chrissy’s hand a few more times before running off like a headless chicken back to her house.

Heather had congratulated her for it, even though Chrissy was never physically there for the sales.

It still sparked a fire in Chrissy, as the next thing Heather knows, Chrissy is holding a box out full of items and dragging her to Steve’s car to head to the market.

It became a sort of passion project at that point, Chrissy always making whatever she could imagine. Extended past just clothing to household items, and even plushies when Chrissy got her little mitts on a book about crocheting toys.

Oh, the amount of toys Heather had come across in the house when Chrissy found out, it was insane.

Still, Chrissy was happy, and Heather was by her side, rubbing and massaging her hands.

“Oh, you’re an angel, Heather.” Chrissy breathes out a sigh of relief.

“I’m just massaging your hands. You gotta take breaks, you know. Buck won’t mind if you skip a week or two.”

“I know, but it’s just- I love crocheting, making things for people. I feel bad if I have nothing to at least look at.”

“I know, babe. But don’t break your hands doing it.”

“I won’t.”

“You better not, or else I’ll eat them so you can’t use them no more.”

“Noooo…” Chrissy devolves into giggles as Heather kisses her hands with a frantic love.

Chrissy loved her hobby, but she loved her girlfriend more.

[lav-awd]

Major Project

I then started making Leslie.

using my trusty ol' 4mm crochet hook, some purple yarn and my beloved "half-double stitch" (which is different to a single stitch) I got to work.

I had a lot of fun making her, seeing her come to life was pretty spectacular.

I started making the mouth which I used a deep red and a pinky peach colour to make the tongue.

I then moved onto her head and worked the shape around my hand. I love crocheting its when I feel most creative and I have not found a lot of creativity In myself these past three years so I was nice to have that again.

I then worked on her body fitting it round the shape of my arm. and sewed her together

Here she is!!

I think she's really cute, I added some eyelids too her to make her look sad, as that is the message I want to get across in this, I am sad if you couldn't tell.

Next I thought about clothes, there is one big dressing gown snoody that I wear all the time and I started to recreate that, but then I found an old teddy bear with clothes on that I thought would work even better than that.

I saw this and I knew it would be perfect. As this is something my course bestie Holly and I always say to each other, A little easter egg for me, but a motivational top for people watching this video.

The "We Can Do It' message really does speak to me because I can and will do it. Might not be amazing but I can do it. I will never be perfect and I can't do anything about that except live with it and own it.

There is also a dressing gown, which I knew would be ace for this too.

Here she is!!

I love her. I think Ive done really well in creating her. My crochet is lovely and neat and I feel like she conveys the mood of the video really well.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Superman's Dishcloth

A small cute headcannon thats been sitting on my tablet?

Summary: some people use pick up lines to get a womans number, henry uses a crochet lesson.

Warnings: Fluff?

Your fingers twisted the yarn around the hook automatically looping and pulling untill you made another double crochet stitch that the pattern required.

To be honest you wasnt paying that much attention as you worked your project, which was stupid really because you were making a new pattern, a bobble popcorn style head band.

You couldnt concentrate for two reasons

One. You were on a goddamned plane soaring across the Atlantic ocean. And if things went tits up you cant swim.

And two? You were seated next to none oher then mr henry cavill himself.

Not that you made a thing about it or even dared to look at him.

He he was watching you, eyes frowning as your fingers twisted the yarn into an intricate looking yet fairly simple pattern.

Youhad to stifle a laugh as his fingers twitched tryig to follow the moves and figure out what you were doing.

You growled missing count again. One, two, three three, skip three. A crochet, half double crochet, two double crochet in one stitch then skip three stitches and repeat untill the end.

Normally youd have no problems but your audience was putting you off.

You dropped the project in your lap as you miscounted again and realised you had to undo the last twelve stitches otherwise you'd be a set out on the end.

You closed your eyes grunting before slipping the hook out and began to tug the working yarn slowly before pinching it and slipping the hook into the loop catching it before it all unraveled.

"Why'd you undo it?" You jumped a little as the huge man beside you spoke up after watching you quietly since take off.

"Huh?... oh i misscounted i skipped four instead of three so it'd be out of line on the end and curl round..."

"How'd you know?" He frowned now leaning over even more curious then before.

You chewed your lip trying not to freak out as he peered over your little project.

"Err well i just counted the stiches i had left on the row, see i was up to here and there was five left not six, so i pulled it taught to spot the odd one out" you explained pulling more yarn through so you could point out the stitches to him with the hook.

"It looks complicated, you twist it so many times?" He said as your fingers began moving once more creating the repetitive pattern.

"Yeah... its not too difficult, Im doing a few different stitches is all, once you know a single crochet stitch and a chain stitch your good to go" You muttered with a smile.

"I doubt its that simple" he replied trying to keep up with watching your fingers guiding the hook jthought the piece making the fabric grow.

"It really is, here you see the little v on top?" You said slowing deciding to show him just how simple it was.

"Yeah?" He hummed quietly watching keenly.

"Thats the row before, so you slip your hook under both strands like this and loop your yarn over then pull through under that v so you have one loop on your hook" you said moving slowly and loosened the stitch with a light wiggle so he could see properly.

"Then loop the yarn over again so you have two loops, and pull the second one through the first... and thats a single crochet stitch" You explained showing him slowly.

"So you make lots of tiny loops and pull them through one another and it some how becomes fabric?" He asked fascinated by it, watching as you began to work on the next stitch.

"Yeah pretty much"

"But that one you pulled the wool over before you did anything at all?" You paused impressed he had noticed the slight difference... he had been watchkn that closely?

"So that was a half double, when you do a half double or double you yarn over first, then you just keep yarning over and pulling through until your left with one loop on the hook" you tried explaining as simply as you could.

"... it still sounds hard" he uttered still focusing on your hands that had been creating stitches.

"Honestly its not, i taught myself in about an hour and a half? Here try it? I've got extra yarn in my carry on if you want to give it a go?" You offered and instantly flushed you did not just offer to teach superman how to crochet like a fucking granny!

Before you could take it back and apologise he beamed.

"Really? That would be fun, i've never tried anything like this before" he said eagerly.

"Err yeah sure lemme just get you started, i'll give you a 5 hook... here" you said surprized digging about pulling the small ergonomic crochet hook out and some mustard yellow yarn.

"So you start with a slipknot... and then a few chain stitches" you began guiding him through it slowly teaching him the steps.

"So do you always crochet on long flights?" He asked pokeing his tongue out as he tried concentrating on the stitches he was doing.

"Yeah, im not good with confined spaces... especially confide spaces that are a good few miles in the air over the open ocean" you chuckled nervously chaining a stitch then turning begining your next row.

"Honestly im not either, usually i have kal- my dog but... not this time... this is good though, its helping take my mind off it thank you" he said sincerly.

"Dont mention it"

"Oh... i think ive done it wrong?" He said andnheld it out to you, you prodded it and to be honest you were impressed, it was neat, not a dropped stitch in sight... just a few loose stitches here and there, but he was finding a good tension.

"No, thats not wrong... just your tension thats all it comes with practice" you said handing it back to him.

"Tension?" He said making you pause. Oh yeah, he wouldnt knpw what that is yet.

"Yeah, how tight you hold the yarn and hook determies how tight your stitches are... mines pretty bad, i have to always use a size bigger hook" you expalined simply

"Really?"

"Yep, i do it too tight- even snapped a metal hook in my hand before" you chuckled remebering the way the hook had just... snapped mid project.

"Wow that sounds painfull?" He huffed eeingnyour hand curiously as if expecting you to snap a hook then and there.

"Yeah, i will admit i was frustrated with the project so it probably didnt help" you chuckled sheepishly.

"Frustrated? Was it complicated like that one?" He asked nodding to your growing head band.

"No, i kept loosing count on a pattern of 78 stitches" you said trying to wave it off but in actual fact that project had been murder.

"So what are you making?" He finally asked eyeingnyour work that had grown wider.

"A little headband, and hopefully i will widen it at the ears to keep em warm" you giggled wrapping it around pinchingnthe ends together proudly presenting it to him.

He grinned and looked down at his little square fiddling with it.

"And im making a... mess?" He laughed holding up the uneven square cheeks tinted pink when you giggled again.

"... Dishcloth?" You offered prodding it gently.

"Perfect, im making a dishcloth!" He bellowed nodding proud of his new diy dish cloth.

"I'm henry by the way. But from the way you were shaking in your seat im guessing you knew?" He finally introduced himself holding out a hand.

You smiled shyly and took it shakingnhands trying not to fawn over how huge hot and soft the palm was.

"Yeah... sorry i was nervous and you probably dont want to be bugged. Im y/n" you tried explaining nervously but he chuckled.

"I wouldnt mind being bugged by such a cutie~" he uttered quietly smirking at you tipping his head down a little too make sure you heard him despite his voice being quiet.

"Oh stop it" you flushed quickly looking down at your headband noticing your stitches werent as even as they could have been, but it couldnt be helped you had handsome distraction.

A very distracting handsome distraction.

"Its true. Besides i think it was me bugging you... and i have managed to plunder through your wool" he grinned sheepishly holding up his little dishcloth.

"Its fine, it not expensive, this is left over yarn from other projects" you waved him off. It was true ou had lots of odd ends and half skeins of woll from other projects.

"Well still i appreciate it, i hate flying" he said sincerly.

"Well now you have something to practice. Youll leave the plane with a new skill to stick on your cv" you added with a grin nudging him playfully.

"Indeed... And perhaps i can leave the p,ane with err...maybe your number to? You know to replace the wool and erm swap err instructions?" He said nervously jumbling his words.

You paused and looked at him shocked blinking. Did he just?

You blinked again watching as his face grew red and he chuckled nerously plucking at the woll on his dishcloth.

"Well i suppose every student needs to be able to contact theor teacher~ and these instructions are called patterns" you smiled to him nodding slowly.

"Right right i knew that of course they're patterns" he chuckled grinning ear to ear relived you hadnt turned him down.

"Well we have a good few hours, perhaps a few more lessons for my little student?" You teased picking up the pattern to show him some of the abbreviations. Mostly to try and concentrate on somthing other then the fact superman had just asked for your number... and was taking crochet lessons.

"Of course" he said excited eyes glittering with glee whilst looking at the small page.

[flamehairedwritings]

Happiest Season Of All

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Rating: M, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Happy Holidays! Phew, it’s been a while. Here is a kind of drabble, and also kind of a sequel to Pain In My Heart? Set the year before S1, there’s no mentions of family, no use of Y/N, and it’s just a gentle, kind of angsty little story.

This story contains broken hearts, swearing, alcohol and embarrassment.

I hope you enjoy and have a lovely week!

Summary: Broken up with just before Christmas? Fantastic. The only thing that can help is returning to your home town, old friends... and an old love.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

—

23rd December 1982

‘... There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and carolling out in the snow...’

You quietly hum along absent-mindedly to the cassette someone’s playing from a boombox, gazing out of the window. Usually, you’d have been annoyed but, hey, it’s the holidays.

Besides, you haven’t had much of a chance to get into the festive spirit or mood recently. With the classic Christmas song playing, the train rumbling gently and the twinkling lights in the darkness slowly growing brighter, you’re finally starting to feel it. Inhaling a breath, you lean your temple against the cold glass, your fingers lacing together in your lap as you gaze at the lights.

Hawkins, Indiana. Your hometown.

It’s been a few years since you were here for longer than a weekend but, oh, boy, this year you just need to be here. You’re retreating, you’re not too proud to admit, coming home to lick your wounds and be surrounded by all things familiar, cosy and boring.

You almost laugh. You’d left this place because it was so damn boring and now here you are, craving it. If teenage you could see you now. She’d be giving ‘that’ look which you’re told you still give to this day. 

Ah, well. Time’s a bitch, baby.

The train slows as it pulls into the station and you start to gather your things while a few others around you stand and pull their bags down from the overhead racks. You pull your suitcases down as the train comes to a stop, all three of them, with their different colours and patterns. Pulling on your scarf, coat and rucksack, you haul the suitcases down the aisle as best as you can single-file, muttering under your breath as they catch every few steps against chairs.

The wheels clatter onto the concrete of the cold platform when you step down, one suitcase twisting onto its front and tangling with the others as it nearly falls from your hand. Muttering under your breath again, you right it and continue walking down the platform, two small groups of people reuniting having to part for you. Making eye contact with a grateful smile, you’re relieved you don’t recognise any of them; you’re really not in the mood for your own reunion right now.

“There she is!”

Well, just the one.

A smile spreads across your face as Karen Wheeler trots down the platform in her heeled boots, grinning and her arms open wide. The suitcases drop from your hands as you throw your arms around one another, rocking from side to side slightly.

“Oooh, hello, sweetheart,” Karen murmurs, pressing a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Karrie.”

Your smile lingers, and it’s the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. Karen has worn the same perfume since high school and it puts you at ease instantly. God, you just love her. You talk on the phone every other week and have done since you moved out of Hawkins; she’s been the most consistent friend in your life and you love her with all your damn heart.

“C’mon, give me those, let’s get out of here, it’s freezing...” Pulling back, she takes two of the suitcases from you before you can protest and starts striding down the platform.

You have to do a quick little jog to catch up with her, marvelling, not for the first or even fortieth time, how she can go so quickly in those heels. It’s a short walk to the exit, made shorter by Karen’s pace, and she’s parked right outside. Wonderful. Opening the trunk, you both bundle your suitcases in, tossing your rucksack on top of it, and then do a speedy little walk to the doors, yanking them open.

“Oof, coldest winter we’ve had in years,” Karen shivers dramatically in her seat as she rubs her gloved hands together before buckling her seatbelt.

Buckling your own as she eases out onto the road, you blow out a breath. “Yeah, definitely feels that way.”

“So, how was the journey?”

“Oh, the usual, long but fine. It was a lot emptier than I expected.”

“Well, we keep hearing there’s gonna be a blizzard, so some folks have come home a little earlier.”

“Well, that’s smart.”

“Yeah. Means I keep bumping into people at the store that I wish I could avoid, though, and on the street.” She snorts as she glances at you. “Ugh, I bumped into Peggy Dawnes the other day, remember her? She would not stop talking about her perfect life on her perfect farm with her perfect husband and her perfect kids and her perfect lawn. Well, there were ten bottles of wine in her cart and I know for a fact her mother doesn’t drink and her perfect husband only likes neat whisky, so, there.”

“Oh.”

You cringe internally at your short reply, but you really can’t think of what else to say. Karen glances at you again, pausing. You look over at her and find the sympathy you’ve only been able to hear during the last few weeks. She reaches over and pats your knee gently before returning her hand to the wheel.

“Oh, sweetheart... How are you doing?”

You release a breath, raising your eyebrows slightly. “Better for being here, already. But, y’know...”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she pats your knee again. “Don’t worry, toots, like I said you can stay as long as you want, it’s no trouble at all.”

You return her smile, relieved that you find you don’t have to force it. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Her smile widens as she tilts her head. "The kids are looking forward to having you with us, you know how much they love you. It’ll do us all some good.”

You don’t ask about Ted because you know not to.

“I can’t wait to see them, too. How have they been?”

You gaze out of the windshield as she tells you how Nancy and Mike are doing at school and how many words Holly can say now, your eyes flitting from house to house. Decorations are out in full force, as they should be, they’ve probably been up since the 1st of the month, and it makes you smile to see them, remembering how you and Karen would go from house to house when you were younger and rate them out of 10 candy canes.

Ah, the simple life.

She’s still chatting about Mike and his friends when she turns down onto their long drive. It’s lined with various Christmas lawn ornaments, most lit up. Lights line the inside of some of the many windows of the house, too, making it look gorgeous and cosy and warm. A curtain is yanked back suddenly and Mike’s face appears, grinning. He waves frantically and you smile instantly, waving back with your eyebrows raised.

My favourite, funny little kid.

He’s already at the wide open door when Karen parks, still grinning. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you open the door and step out only to have him nearly slam into you before you can straighten, hugging you tightly.

“You’re here!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as fiercely. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, I wanna show you this book I got...” He’s already out of your arms and waving you towards the door, which Karen is muttering about the heat being let out of.

Chuckling to yourself, you help her with your suitcases and rucksack, feeling vastly different to how you did ten minutes ago; they never fail to raise your spirits. Nancy greets you as you enter, smiling widely and also ready for a hug. You give it gladly and just as fiercely as you had with Mike, asking her how she is. She shrugs and just says “Fine,” with a smile as you remove your shoes and coat, and you marvel at how she’d once been as talkative as Mike when she was younger. You hear the boy himself calling from the basement, telling you he can’t currently find the book but it’s around here someone and you’re gonna love it! You follow Karen up the stairs to the guest room with a wide smile, calling back your thanks to him.

Passing walls lined with family photographs, it’s a short walk down the hall to the room you’ll be staying in for... well, who knows. Karen opens the door with a trilled, “Ta-da!” and you laugh as you take in the sight before you. It’s completely decked out in Christmas decorations; tinsel on every bit of furniture, snow-globes on the window sill, a polar bear stuffed toy on the bed, fairy-lights around the headboard. You’d roll your eyes at the excessiveness of it if it wasn’t so damn sweet.

“Wow, it’s like Santa’s Grotto in here...”

“Eh, close enough, I wanted fake snow on the ground but Ted vetoed that idea pretty quick.”

You snort, hauling the suitcase you’re carrying onto the bench at the end of the bed and dropping your rucksack onto it before sitting on the bed, your fingers running over the blanket Karen’s mother had crocheted. Nancy lingers in the doorway, and after leaning your other suitcases against a chest of drawers, Karen turns to her, making a shooing gesture.

“All right, go on, Nance, us hot young things need to get ready.”

“Ugh, Mom...” Nancy just about manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she turns away and heads back down the hall while you stare at Karen.

“Uh... Ready for what? Bed?”

“No,” Karen laughs, and you suddenly notice she’s going through your suitcase on the bench, rifling through and pulling various items out. “We’re going out, to the bar.”

“The bar?”

“Yes, the bar.”

You’re still staring at her. “Where everyone we know goes?”

Karen shrugs, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s still the only good bar in Hawkins.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid everyone.”

“Eh, yeah, but... y’know, only good bar in Hawkins. And...” Oh, no, she’s looking sheepish, her head bowing slightly as she glances from you to some of your clothes she’s pulled out. “... Uh, we’re kinda having a party here tomorrow, anyway, so...”

“What?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her hands raising. “It just kinda happened. It’s been years since we’ve had one and Ted and I were talking about it and then I saw Mary-Lou at Mike’s school and I just happened to mention it and she got so excited and then I got excited and it just, it suddenly happened.”

Your lips press together as you exhale a short breath. “Well, they were fun...”

“Yeah, they were, weren’t they?” Karen sits beside you with a nostalgic sigh, shaking her head. “We had some of the best times of our lives at ‘em.”

“Yeah... I remember the one after you gave birth to Nancy, I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“Ha! Thank God my Mom came over to look after her. What about the one where you set fire to the tree?”

“Oh, please don’t remind me, and that wasn’t actually my fault, you know,”

“Ha, yeah, sure, that was great...”

You both sigh together, a smile finding its way onto your lips at all the memories that come flooding back. They had been fun. You hadn’t been able to attend every one over the years but the ones you had had been so great they’d almost made you want to stay in Hawkins. Maybe... Maybe a return to a beloved tradition is exactly what you need.

Turning your head to her, you arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me it was happening, though?”

Karen shrugs as she smiles. “I didn’t want you to talk yourself out of enjoying it before it had even happened. Same as tonight.”

“Oh, Karrie...” You huff out a breath. “... You know me too well, it’s so annoying. Ugh, I was so looking forward to just curling up on the couch, drinking and watching some of the classics.”

“I know.” She pats your knee, nudging her shoulder against yours. “And we’re gonna do that the day after Christmas, and every day that you want to while you’re here. But tonight, we’re gonna get fancy and go out and get a little bit drunk. It’s Christmas, c’moooon.”

You just can’t help but smile. “All right. All right! Fine. How long have I got?”

“An hour.”

 “What—”

She’s already on her feet, pointing at you as she heads to the door. “Take a shower while I cook us and the kids something up, and then we’ll get ready. okay?”

You know you have absolutely no choice in the matter. “Okay, fine.”

 “Great!” she beams, reaching for the door handle to close it behind herself. She pauses, though, resting her weight on one foot as she clears her throat. “Oh, and uh... he’s probably gonna be there.”

You don’t have to ask who she’s referring to.

Staring at her, you manage to keep your features expressionless. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She’s watching you carefully, teeth grazing over her lower lip. “He is nearly every night, apparently, according to Marian.”

Raising your eyebrows slightly, you smile. “Well... maybe he won’t be.”

“Yeah, maybe he won’t be...” She’s still watching you, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. “Shower, toots.”

“Okay, okay...” You wave your hand as she pulls the door closed, hearing her move down the hallway.

The moment you hear her heading down the stairs, you release a long breath, lying back on the bed.

Oh, shit... 

Well.

You stare at the ceiling as the realisation suddenly dawns on you.

I might see Jim Hopper tonight.

James Hopper. Jim. Hopper. Hop. Chief, also now, not that you’ve ever been around to call him that.

You’d been friends since you were kids, best friends actually, at one point closer than you and Karen had been, and then feelings had developed when you'd become teenagers and then you’d taken the leap and had started dating and then...

You’d broken up.

And you’d been the one to initiate it.

And you’d done that because, well... It was because of a lot of little things. Mainly, though, you hadn’t known what route you wanted to take, college or work, you hadn’t even known what you wanted to do, but you knew you wanted to get out of Hawkins. And Hop... hadn’t known what the hell he wanted to do either, but he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d spoken once or twice about joining the military, or just starting a job, too. College hadn’t even crossed his mind. The conversation had come up and, well, it hadn’t ended well. 

In fact, when it ended, that has been the last time you’ve spoken to him. As you’ve returned home over the years you’ve heard he did join the military, fought in Vietnam, came home, married, and lived in New York the same time you had. You’d been heartbroken to hear from Karen that his daughter had died, and he’d divorced and moved back home.

Now, he’s Chief of Hawkins Police and, well, you’d love to avoid seeing him at all costs. There can come a time when, having not seen someone in decades, you can’t even have a casual conversation because all both parties are doing is screaming in their heads.

Well. Like you’d said yourself. He might not be there.

Hey, as Chief of Police this is probably a very busy time of year and he’ll be off doing something.

It’s gonna be fine.

Absolutely fine.

After showering, you throw on some clean, comfy clothes and head downstairs to eat with Karen and the kids.

Holly sits at the table in her highchair, silent as ever, well, being two years old she only knows a handful of words, but she just stares at you as she has done since she was a baby. Mike talks non-stop about school and his friends while Nancy chimes in every now and then to talk about her own friends, saying names of people in her class that you take a moment or two to remember, and to mutter insults at him while he mutters them back.

Karen half-heartedly tells them to stop in between telling you what she might wear, and you somehow manage to keep up with all conversations. Frankly, it’s also quite nice after being surrounded by mostly silence for the last few weeks.

Whipping your plate away from you seconds after you finish, Karen is up and striding to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder.

“C’mon! Let’s get sexy!”

Your lips twitch as Mike and Nancy groan, the only thing they can agree on right now being that their Mom is a complete and utter embarrassment.

She practically shoves you up the stairs, trying to get you to move faster, and from then on the next 30 minutes feels like a whirlwind. She tries on six outfits before settling on her usual favourite, and changes in your room while you rifle through what you’ve brought. Luckily, even though you can’t really remember packing, you’ve brought some of your own favourites, and, after scrambling to find some shoes to go with them, she helps you decide on an old classic.

Gazing at you, her hands on her hips, she beams with delight.

“Well, look at you, huh! Fancy lady!”

You give a twirl as she whoops, and then her arm is looping through yours and she’s practically dragging you towards the door.

“Bye, guys, we’ll be back late!” she calls out, though no one answers, too busy doing their own thing. 

You haven’t seen any sign of Ted and, once again, you know not to ask.

“Late? How late is late?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as she hurries you down the stairs.

“Oh, come on, not that late, we’re not gonna get wasted, we’re not teenagers anymore.”

—

“... God, I hate it...”

The stall door slams against the cubicle wall as you pull it open a little more forcefully than you had intended. Holding it for a moment, you exhale a short breath before moving towards the sinks, only swaying a little. Washing your hands, you glance up at Karen, watching her try to reapply her lipstick as neatly as possible.

“And did you hear Julian is engaged? And Andrea has a new boyfriend? Is it me or is everybody getting into a relationship?”

She snorts, rubbing her lips together. “It’s that time of year, folks hate being lonely at Christmas.”

You scoff, turning the tap off and drying your hands. “Just sleep with people, then, doesn’t mean you have to get into a relationship and hog someone all to yourself.”

She laughs, slipping her lipstick back into her bag before turning to you, a hand on her hip. “Oh, babe... C’mon, let’s find you someone to have meaningless sex with it.”

“Okay.”

The bar has been heaving from the moment you’d arrived. It usually is, but tonight the place is rammed, perhaps because of the time of year, but maybe more because, it turns out, there’s an offer on drinks, it being the holiday season and all, and happy hour has lasted more than one hour. More than two. It’s nearing three now.

Each sip has helped you relax, even as Karen gasps and points out old high school classmates, filling you in on every detail of their lives she’s learned. So far, incredibly gladly, she’s not pointed out a certain Chief.

Returning to your table, which a guy you don’t recognise has been guarding for you, as in literally guarding, he has his hands behind his back and is saying, “Nah, move along, this ain’t free...” to anyone who looks like they’re going to swoop in. At spotting you both, he grins and holds his arms out wide, gesturing at the table.

“All free for you, m’ladies.”

You’re unable to stop a smile because there’s something so weirdly charming about this absolute goofball of a man. He takes a seat beside Karen as you sit, the two of them having been exchanging small talk that verged on flirting. Heck, it was flirting. Sipping from your drink as you watch them, you feel a small, familiar twist in your stomach.

Karen is more like her teenage self when she’s with you, but when you see her with Ted, no longer Teddy as he had been in high school, and the kids, she’s Karen the mom, like she’s caged her personality in and doesn’t quite know how to bring the two parts of herself together. When she’d come to visit you once last year, you’d gone out to a bar and you’d watched her flirt with a couple of the men there. You’d thought it was harmless at first, just a bit of fun for her, she’s a charismatic lady, but then something had changed and, as a guy had held her hand, stroking it, and she hadn’t pulled away, you’d felt a twist in your stomach.

She’s gonna have an affair one day.

The thought had come to you so suddenly and so sharply that you’d shoved it away with all your might, horrified with yourself. No, Karen wouldn’t do that... Would she? Since then, you’d become more and more unsure. You’ve stopped asking about Ted when you talk because she’d just sigh heavily and spend the next ten minutes pointing out every flaw he has, how the romance has gone, how she’s tried and nothing happens. You know she’s unhappy, but you just can’t see her doing it. You hope not, anyway.

Looking away from them, you watch a few people dancing, Christmas music flowing out of the speakers above.

Karen laughs at something the guy says, and in the corner of your eye you see her place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, that’s too funny! You’re really funny... Sorry, what’s your name again?”

The man is unfazed, still grinning. “Callahan. Phil Callahan.”

He says it with such an atrocious Sean Connery accent, making Karen burst out laughing again, and it makes you smile, too.

“Oh, big James Bond fan, huh?” she says, her elbow on the table, chin in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, it’s why I became a cop.”

Your gaze darts to him. “You’re a cop?”

He raises his hands as he laughs. “Yeah, but, hey, you go on and drink as much as you want, I’m off duty now.”

Karen laughs and you make yourself join in, but your heart has started to beat a little faster.

Oh, stop it, he’s not here.

You take a quick sip of your drink again to cover the fact you aren’t laughing anymore, and then Callahan looks up, his grin widening somehow as he waves his hand frantically.

“Hey, boss, over here!”

Boss?

Boss.

The entire room seems to slow down as you turn your head and see a man, who’s stopped for a moment to shake hands with someone, with brown hair and a neatly clipped beard, wearing a brown leather jacket, plaid shirt and jeans, his eyebrows raised—

Oh, God.

Oh, shit.

Oh fucking Lord in the manger.

Callahan is slapping his hand against the vacant seat at the table, that happens to be close to you, practically shouting, “Hop’, here, saved ya a seat!”

You swiftly turn back around, staring at Karen. She’s frozen, staring at you, and for the next three seconds you somehow communicate an entire conversation with just your eyebrows and eyes.

Both of you seem to agree on fuuuuuuck.

You can’t just get up and leave, that would be the most obvious thing in the entire world. What if he doesn’t recognise you? Yeah, maybe you’ll be so incredibly fucking lucky and it’ll be a Christmas miracle and you’ll somehow have just disappeared from his memory.

Swallowing hard as you hear him move past a group behind you with an “Excuse me,” you rest your hands on the table, gripping them together.

“Hey, Callahan, where’s everybody else?”

Oh, his voice has changed. It’s deeper, rougher.

“Oh, well, Powell said he and his wife are gonna come later when he finishes his shift, and Jones, Davids and Williamson are over there, they’ve been waitin’ to get a drink for ages.” Callahan laughs delightedly, and Karen joins in, giving a slightly nervous one.

It draws Hopper’s attention and you don’t dare look up to see his expression but there’s a note of surprise in his tone.

“Karen, hey, you doin’ okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” And then she panics. “We’re just having a night out.” And then she panics more when she realises what she’s said, and that she’s gestured at you, her eyes as wide as her now somewhat manic smile.

Oh. God.

Lifting your head, you automatically smile, your features frozen.

“Hi.”

Hi.

He looks from Karen to you, and you’re suddenly subject to the full force of Jim Hopper’s gaze for the first time in decades.

Oh. God.

You can’t help it; the memories of the last time you saw him flood your mind.

“Hop’, are you even listening to me?”

He swiftly puts down the ball of rubberbands he’d been picking at on your desk, his eyebrows raised as he looks to you.

“Yeah, yeah, course I am.”

Your own eyebrows rise even higher, your hands lifted. “What, then?”

He tilts his head slightly, grazing his teeth over his lower lip. “’What’, what?”

“You weren’t fucking listening—”

“No, I was,” he quickly says at your weary sigh, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees, an easy smile pulling at his lips. “C’mon, just repeat the last part.”

You’d once found this all charming and endearing.

Your hands going to your waist, you exhale another breath before folding your arms, managing to calm yourself.

“What are you gonna do after school?”

Hop’ shrugs, leaning back again. “I don’t know. What are you gonna do?”

It was just the answer you’d feared, and expected. Licking your lips, you glance down at the carpet before steeling yourself and meeting his gaze again.

You can do this.

“I’m thinking of moving.”

He nods, his smile returning. “Okay, where?”

“I don’t know. New York, maybe. There’s jobs there and I have a friend there, I could stay with her for a bit.”

“Or we could get a place together.”

You stare at him, feeling your stomach twist.

“So... you’re, you’re just gonna follow me where I go.”

“Yeah.” His brow dips slightly, the smile still there, though it’s hesitant. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be happy when their boyfriends say that?”

“Yeah, but... What do you want to do?”

Hop’ shrugs again. “I don’t know. I know I wanna be with you, though.”

You’d once have quietly swooned at that and given him a fond smile. Now, though... You want more.

“Hop’, I don’t... I don’t wanna be one of those high school couples that just sticks together because they’re together. I want you to actually want this.”

He’s frowning again, confusion starting to set in. “I do.”

You say it quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

He stares at you, all traces of his smile gone. Then, he scoffs, leaning back in his chair a little more as he folds his arms.

“So now you’re tellin’ me what I do and don’t feel?”

“No, I just, I want you to have some drive, some ambition, not just go along with what I say and do.”

“I go along with it because it’s what I want.”

You can feel tears stinging at your eyes but your mind has also been made up.

“I don’t think it is, I just think it’s easy and safe for you.”

“Stop tellin’ me what I’m feelin’!”

His voice raising makes yours, too.

“Am I wrong?”

He looks at you like he has no idea who you are, and for some reason that really pisses you off because you don’t really recognise him anymore, either.

“Why are you pushing me away?!”

“I’m not, I—”

“Where has all this come from, then?!”

“I don’t know if I want this!”

Silence falls.

You swallow thickly as he stares at you, your voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but... y’know, Karrie and Teddy, they... I look at them and at Joyce and Lonnie and they’re so happy, they know what they want, and they can’t wait to get married and settled down, here, but...”

“You don’t want that,” he finishes for you, quietly.

You speak after a moment, your tone matching his. “I don’t.”

“You don’t want me.”

That sends a knife through your heart because honestly? You have no idea. 

Shaking your head, you close your eyes for a moment. “No, yes, I... I don’t know. I care so much about you, but... I just think we’re on different paths.”

His gaze drops as your words linger in the air. Clearing his throat, he glances up at you again.

“What if we just take a break, for a bit. Or I can come up and visit you, in New York.”

He’s just a boy, you suddenly think, your heart breaking.

Biting at your lower lip to stop it from trembling, you give a small shrug. “I think that wouldn’t be fair on us both.”

He nods slowly, his jaw moving, and you’ve never seen him this distant. Raising his eyebrows slightly, he stands.

“Seems you already had this all figured out.”

“No, no, I didn’t, I just don’t want to be unfair to you—”

“Could I have said anything that would have changed your mind?” His quiet words silence you, and you have to stifle a sob.

“... No.”

Hop gazes at you, and after several moments he nods. “Good luck with everything.”

You’d burst into tears the moment he’d left your room. The front door had slammed shut and as you’d sat on your bed and cried and cried you’d heard his car door slam, too. You’d cried for days, going between telling yourself you’d made a huge mistake, and then that you’d done what was best, that he didn’t appreciate you like he used to and it wasn’t your job to fix him and coach him through life and that... yeah, you’d fallen out of love with him.

You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend that day, though, you’d also lost your best friend.

You loved Karen but there was just something different about Hop’, something that made you feel safe and like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. As you’d moved away and the months had gone on, several triumphs and bad days had happened, and all you’d wanted to do was just pick up the phone to call him and tell him. You’d stopped yourself every time.

Then, at some unremarkable point, you’d just stopped getting that urge, and life had moved on.

Oh, it certainly had moved on.

You stare at him, trying to look without looking. You can still see the face of the teenager you once knew, though with the beard and the lines at the corners of his eyes he’s very much a man now.

God, is he a man.

He was tall when you’d known him, but is he taller now, somehow? Had he had another growth spurt in his twenties? His hands are huge, too, and he’d been confident back then but it had come from cockiness whereas now he just seems quietly so, more sure of himself.

And you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. He’s staring at you so expressionlessly that you believe for a moment or two he actually has forgotten you.

Then, he speaks

“Hey. Been a long time.”

Hey. Been. A. Long. Time.

Said like you didn’t once whisper “I love you” to each other and share every single secret you’d ever had.

Then again, all you’d been able to muster up was a ‘Hi’.

You’re still smiling and you don’t know how to stop.

“Yeah, it has.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, you?”

“Yeah, good. You home for the holidays?”

“Yep.”

He runs his fingers over his mouth as he nods, and oh my God, he’s attractive. Is he, or is it the alcohol?

Wanting to banish the thoughts from your mind and distract yourself, you quickly continue.

“I’m staying with Karen.”

“That’s nice.” It’s said absolutely expressionlessly. “Just ‘till the new year?”

“Uhm, indefinitely. I’m, I’m working, uh, going through, uh, I’m moving, at the moment.”

“Okay. Well, I hope it goes okay.”

Oh my God, he’s winding down the conversation. He’s gonna go.

And you’re still smiling.

“Thank you.”

Nodding, he glances at Callahan. “I’m gonna go and check in with the others, see how they are.”

Callahan just nods once, his gaze flicking from you to Hopper and back again with utter confusion.

Rising, Hopper glances from Karen to you.

“See you around.”

“Yeah, bye, happy holidays,” you answer, Karen possibly unable to speak.

His lips move slightly, possibly into a faint smile. “Yeah, to you, too.”

And then he walks away, heading for the bar. Staring at where he’d just been sat, a slightly strangled sound releases from the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, oh my God...”

Looking to Karen, a whole range of emotions are flashing across her face as she tries to find the most comforting one. She fails.

“Oh, babe, oh God, that was horrible.”

“I know, I just, I forgot how to have a conversation, my voice got so high.”

“It did, I don’t know why you did that.”

“Neither do I, oh my God...” Putting your head in your hands, you then quickly lift it after a moment, pressing your lips together as you raise your hands. “Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just, please, move past it. It’s over, I got it out the way, it was civilised, it’s done.”

“You’re right, you’re so right, please let’s forget it. Let’s drink.”

“Yes, please.”

You tap your glass against Karen’s as she raises it, and both take a long drink.

Oh, God.

That had been... so uneventful you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. In all the times you’d thought about how this exact moment might go, you’d never thought it would be uneventful. You’d imagined yelling, or crying, sometimes even laughing, but this...

Well. It was really like it had meant nothing at all.

You don’t know why it’s getting to you so much. You broke up with him. Of course he’d have moved on and left it all behind, God, you have as well. You’ve both lived your lives, gone through so many things and come out the other side and... A break up when you were teenagers kind of pales in comparison.

Yeah. It’s all fine. In fact, you know what, you’re relieved. It’s mature. It’s done. That’s it. You don’t have to be best friends with him again, for fuck’s sake.

Lowering your drink, you don’t realise your internal monologue has played out on your face, eyes widening and narrowing. Looking up, you find Karen and Callahan staring at you.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Who wants another drink?”

You’re out of your seat and heading to the bar before they can respond. Karen sits back in her chair as she blinks, watching you stride away.

“Can someone just please tell me what’s going on?” Callahan bursts out, his hands raised.

“Oh, God, sweetie...” Karen sighs, reaching for her drink again. “... I have no fucking clue.”

—————————————————————————————————

24th December 1982

“Ughhh... Oh, God...”

It’s not your own groaning that wakes you, but that of someone else.

Cracking open an eye, you stare up at the ceiling as the groaning continues.

Uh, my mouth is so dry...

Licking your lips, you turn your head and find Karen on the other side of the bed, her hair bedraggled and spilling across the pillow, mascara halfway down her face, lipstick smeared. Turning her own head, she looks at you and groans again.

“Am I alive?”

“I think so,” you rasp, and she groans mournfully.

“Ughhhh... I don’t even remember how we got home...”

Closing your eyes, you scratch at your forehead, trying to remember yourself.

You’d gone to the bar, drank, drank a lot, maybe danced a little, spoken with your old classmate, Jessica? Justine? and then... Oh, what was his name again...

“Callahan,” you murmur, your throat aching. “Callahan brought us home.”

“Oh, yeah... Didn’t we ask him to turn on his lights?”

Your lips twitch as you recall how you’d both screamed with joy and whooped and cheered as he’d turned on the lights, waving your arms from side to side.

You snort and she glances at you. A laugh escapes you as you think about the absurdity of it all, and then she’s laughing, too, her cackle loud and delighted.

“Oh my God... Ugh, that was fun...” she sighs, her smile lingering.

“Yeah...” you murmur, stretching your legs out.

“We’ll have fun tonight, too.” She pats your hand, exhaling a breath. “If we just... If we just sleep ‘till noon, and then we can start preparing the house... Maybe even two, it won’t take long...”

You hum, closing your eyes, and, yeah, sleeping a little longer does sound like a good idea... Besides, when you’re unconscious, you don’t have to think about a certain embarrassing event that happened... 

Perfect.

You focus on the softness of the bed as Karen snores lightly beside you, already fast asleep... Yeah... the joy of unconsciousness...

—

“... Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock... Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring... Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun... Now the jingle hop has begun...”

Adjusting a plate on the table, you straighten and blow out a breath, trying to stifle a yawn.

I really can’t handle a night out anymore.

Brushing your hands together, you turn, surveying the party that’s in full-swing. It’s only a couple of hours in but it’s already a success. People are talking, laughing, dancing, singing, eating, drinking, having a merry old time in general really. You feel more proud than you would have thought as your gaze drifts across the room.

You’d had to shake Karen awake at half one, both of you practically dehydrated and feeling not so fresh. After drinking copious amounts of water, showering, changing and finally eating, realising you were both starving, you’d flown around the house together, tidying, cleaning, cooking up food, putting drinks out and decorating. It had been another whirlwind but a wonderful whirlwind. You’d had so much fun, and hadn’t thought once about The Incident. An hour before the party was due to start, you and Karen had gotten ready, selecting slightly more festive outfits than the ones you’d worn last night.

Now, she’s in the kitchen, laughing at something a neighbour is saying, while Mike and Nancy talk in separate corners with some of their friends who have turned up, and Ted, who’d you’d finally bumped in to and greeted, was sat in his armchair, talking with a guy who looked slightly desperate to get away.

The doorbell chimes and you catch Karen’s eye, waving your hand and mouthing, “I’ll get it,”, as you’ve done so for the last few chimes.

You have to carefully push your way past people on the way to the foyer, which is surprisingly empty. Moving to the door, you grip the handle and pull it open, a smile already on your lips.

“Hey—”

You cut yourself off, pausing as you stare up at the man.

Hopper stares back at you, shoulders slightly hunched from the cold, hands in his pockets.

"Hi,” he says, glancing behind you briefly.

"Hey,” you repeat, your heart pounding.

... Whaaaaaat is he doing here?

As if he’s somehow heard your thought, he clears his throat and raises his eyebrows a little. “Uh, Callahan said we were invited.”

Oh, fuck, yes, you’d forgotten Karen had insisted he come, and you, jokingly, had said, ‘Hey, why not invite Hopper, too?’

Haha. Ha. What a hilarious joke. What a hilarious little joke that Callahan clearly hadn’t taken as a joke so it is now real.

Just as you realise you haven’t answered him, he clears his throat again. “Should I—”

“Oh, no, God, sorry, come in.” Holding the door open, you step back, gesturing with your other hand into the foyer.

He steps in, glancing at the party beyond before he turns to you as you close the door, looking up at him.

You’re staring again.

Swallowing, you point at the stairs. “Uh, coats are up here, I’ll show you.”

Before he can answer, you stride to the steps and ascend, gripping the bannister.

Ooh... Ooh, what’s happening... What am I doing...

You’ve shown the last few people up to where the coats are being kept, just in case you can’t see them out, but this is... This is rather intimate.

You hear him behind you, following you up, and you make yourself exhale a long breath to try and calm your heart.

Be an adult.

The coats are being kept where they usually would at a Wheeler party; the guest room, AKA your room. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been basically escorting people up to it, not wanting them to linger in there or have a stranger possibly go through your things.

Pushing the door open, you step in to the dimly lit room and gesture at the bed that’s piled high with coats, scarves and jackets.

“Just here, leave it anywhere.”

He stands in the doorway, hands back in his pockets.

“I’m actually not stayin’ long, I’ve got a shift soon.”

Your hands drop. “Oh. Okay...” You can’t stop a slight frown from crossing your features. “Why did you come up, then?”

Hopper meets your gaze, his jaw moving minutely. “‘cause I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

You’re sweating, your fingers flexing by your side.

Okay, here we go, he’s gonna yell at me and tell me everything he’s been holding back, here we go...

Shifting his stance, he leans against the doorframe, his gaze holding yours. “Listen, last night, I... I’m sorry I left so abruptly. That wasn’t, uh... polite of me.”

... Well, that’s not what you’d expected.

Your lips parted, you gaze at him. “Uh, no, no, no, it’s fine, I, I completely get it. It’s, uhm...” You pause, swallowing. Then, you smile faintly, and just say it, your voice dropping slightly. “... It’s weird, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, it is.” He lets out a laugh, and for some reason the sound of it warms you. “I was a little taken aback when I saw you, I was totally unprepared.”

“Oh, me, too.” You exhale a laugh, your smile easing. “I wanted to say so many things but my brain wasn’t quite connected to my mouth.” You laugh again, though it’s more nervous this time, because you know if you don’t say it now, you never will. Your tongue gliding across your lips, you raise your hands a little. “Look, Hop, I...” Fuck, it feels strange saying his name again. “... I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

Hopper’s already shaking his head before you’ve finished, a slight dip to his brow. “Don’t be. I think it was the kick up the ass I needed, and I knew you were right. Took me a little while to admit that, but, yeah.”

“Still, I could have given us a chance—”

“We were kids,” he cuts you off gently with a light smile, shrugging. “Neither of us knew what we were doin’ or how to handle somethin’ like that.”

You snort. “I still don’t.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher. “Yeah, me, too.” Grazing his teeth over his lower lip, you watch him as he seems to consider something, your cheeks heating slightly at his intense gaze. “... Stop me if I’m, uh, treadin’ where I shouldn’t, but, and I’m just connectin’ the dots here, you said you’re stayin’ in Hawkins indefinitely, is that because something similar has happened?”

You give a faint smile, pointing a finger at him as you raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, you got me. I, uhm...” Here we go... “... I broke up with my fiancé. Or, he broke up with me, actually.” Your smile widens a little more. “Good connecting, you must be a great Chief.”

“Well, I do my best.” He looks sympathetic in a way that is mercifully not pitying. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I feel like shit every day, but, it was for the best. He was an asshole. I just didn’t want to see it.”

“How come he did the breaking up, then?”

You fold your arms, exhaling a breath. “He met someone else. Didn’t even bother to hide it or save my feelings. Just told me.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it really did.”

“Still,” he nods his head at you, “you seem much better off.”

You feel a little proud at that, because, actually, you feel like a mess. “Thanks. Karen’s letting me stay here until I figure out what I wanna do. I don’t even know if I like my job anymore or if it’s just everything that’s going on making me feel like I hate it, or maybe I have hated it for a while and I just don’t want to admit that to myself either.” You catch yourself from continuing, releasing a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just rambling on now, you can go back down—”

“Nah, it’s okay, I like listenin’ to you.”

He says it so sincerely, holding your gaze, that you don’t quite know what to do. Biting at your lower lip briefly, you look away for a few moments, your fingers twisting together.

“Well... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You can hear the smile in his tone, so you look up, and God...

You’ve missed that smile.

His expression is so soft, too, so gentle and...

No, no, no, no... No, it’s just because you’re sad and it’s Christmas and—

Clearing his throat, he leans an arm against the chest of drawers beside the door.

“Y’know, I... I’ve thought about you over the years, thought about reachin’ out. I heard from someone years ago that you were in New York and I... I told myself I was gonna look you up but... I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Didn’t know if you’d even want to see me.”

A smile pulls at your lips, your chest aching slightly. “I think I would have.” Biting at your lower lip again, you take a breath. “... I’ve thought about you, too. Sometimes I think about if I made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving you.”

He blinks, before quickly smiling, shaking his head. “Like I said, we were just kids. We didn’t know any better.”

“I know.”

You’re gazing at each other again, quietly.

Don’t.

Clearing your throat, you make yourself smile. “I’m so sorry, I should have offered you a drink, I—”

“Would you like to go out for a drink?” he asks, so swiftly that it’s as if he’d been waiting to. “So we can catch up properly?”

Staring at him, you feel something quietly ignite within you. He looks somewhat nervous, and for some reason it calms you instantly.

A softer smile returning to your lips, you nod. “I’d like that.”

One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other as he straightens, his hands falling to his sides. “Good. Okay. I’ll call. I gotta head out now, sorry, I just wanted to drop by before my shift.”

He wanted to drop by... to see me.

Trying to contain your smile, you move towards him, heading for the door. “It’s okay, I’ll walk you out.”

“Thanks.”

You head down the hallway and stairs in silence, your heart fluttering wildly. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, and of his right behind you, and oh my God, when was the last time I felt this way?

Pulling the door open, you hold it for him as you smile.

“Well, I hope your shift goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

He’s stood before you, a hand in his pocket, and he doesn’t move.

Then, his other hand moves to rest on your arm gently as he lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Oh, fuck.

His lips brushing against your skin makes your heart stop and every inch of your skin warm. It’s brief, far too brief, and when he pulls his head back to look at you, you desperately hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel.

Giving a slightly breathless smile, you hold his gaze. “Merry Christmas, Hop’.”

The smile he gives in return has you feeling a way you know you haven’t in years.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————————————

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[something-fanfiction-ie]

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain. 

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.” 

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?” 

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

[catnaples]

HAIKYUU: TIME-SKIP GENERAL HEADCANONS 1

MASTERLIST

Here’s yet another post that no one asked for lmao. These are just some things that live rent-free in my head that I compiled. I’ll be slowly moving through some more requests today as long as everything goes well! ♥

SLIGHT SPOILERS (MANGA TIME-SKIP)

♥ Sugawara can crochet/knit and around the holidays or birthdays, he knits sweaters and scarves for everyone and will lowkey turn into scary Suga if they don’t wear them right away. It doesn’t matter how hot it is, wear it if you want to live

♥ Daichi and Kuroo like to exchange dad jokes whenever they see each other, and then when they use it on their former team mates they like to text each other and laugh at how their friends reacted

♥ I lowkey think Kenma would CRUSH Project Diva. 

♥ Whenever Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto and Akaashi hang out, I think they form teams and play Project Diva on Hard mode and whoever gets the lowest scores has to pay for dinner/lunch/drinks

♥ Hinata would learn Portuguese with Oikawa so that they can speak in a language that Kageyama doesn’t know, and then they’d rub it in his face when he’s making them mad

♥ I think that Yamaguchi watches sappy kdramas with Hinata, lmao you can’t change my mind. I bet you his favorite is either Boys over Flowers or She was pretty

♥ Bokuto is all beefy and tough but the second any tiny little inconvenience hits him he's a cry baby (which I guess is kinda canon actually lmao). For example one time he was trying to help Akaashi with his work and he was stapling things and he stapled the very edge of his finger and he bawled like a child for hours

♥ Kageyama would 100% accept a sponsorship from a milk company change my mind

♥ I think that Tsukishima keeps a mass collection of collectible toy dinosaurs in his living room so that he can admire them, and will ABSOLUTELY roast anyone who tries to make a smart comment about them

♥ I also think that Tsukishima’s idea of a romantic date is to drag the unsuspecting person to a large museum and force them to listen to him prattle on about the stuff there (mainly the dinos lol)

♥ Akaashi probably slips an idea to another coworker about a manga that tells the story of an aloof spiky haired muscle man with his strong and silent best friend making their way through high school together (hint hint)

♥ Kuroo and Bokuto are bros till the end. Going out for a beer or something, just the two of them instead of forcing their quiet friends into loud conversations. They probably wear matching bro t-shirts lmao can you imagine? They make a lot of dumb decisions while drunk too ppffft. Like they steal a duck from the local park and get in trouble the next morning because they were caught on camera doing it

♥ I have this soft idea in my head that Ushijima and Tendou go out for dinner once every month and they’re sitting there drinking fancy wine and catching up on the months news, and Ushijima is just softer now than he was in high school ugh plz soft Ushi

♥ I’d like to think that Tendou would grow out his hair again and wear it in a loose man bun, almost like Kenma but not y’know? And if he started dating someone he’d probably let them braid his hair the longer it gets

♥ Okay I know that Oikawa and Iwaizumi really hate Shiratorizawa and Ushijima, but like the idea of Oiks, Iwa, Ushi and Tendou all going out for drinks every now and then to laugh and “playfully” argue about their middle and high school days kinda appeals to me.Like they’re not best friends, but they have some mutual respect for each other. Idk i love all of them and I want all of them to love each other lmao

♥ Can we also talk about Hinata and Oikawa being BFF’s? So this idea lives rent free in my head 24/7, but the idea of them getting matching tattoos in a slightly hidden place (cause VB y’know) and one day it just gets revealed and Iwa and Kags are like “Dude wth”

♥ Okay and let’s talk about another idea that lives almost rent free in my head: Bokuto traveling to Brazil with Hinata since they be best buds, and Hinata shows Bokuto where he trained and they just do a lot of dude bro things y’know? I love platonic Bokuto and Hinata so much, it actually kinda hurts lmao

♥ I feel like Kiyoko and Yachi both run popular blogs. Kiyoko runs one on being a mom, and Yachi runs one on baking and stuff. They often meet up at a cute little cafe to have a coffee and to catch up!!

♥ I think that Kiyoko and Tanaka end up having a girl and boy, and the boy has a lot of Kiyoko’s personality traits while the girl is a lot like Tanaka

♥ I’m just gonna lay it out there, I think Yachi would marry an angry looking female who’s actually even softer than Yachi herself

♥ Whenever Oikawa has a huge press meeting or something, he gets a manicure beforehand so that his hands look neat (and sometimes he’ll force Iwaizumi to come with)

♥ Sometimes Matsunn and Makki like to sneak out to Oikawa’s hotel whenever he’s back in Japan, just so they can harass and prank him for the entire night. Bonus points if they get really drunk, too

♥ Hinata and Bokuto have never had a Bang (which is a super caffeinated energy drink) and Atsumu brings some in to try from America. When they drink it, he instantly regrets that decision, because Hinata and Bokuto are literally vibrating. Which is an omen for what’s to come in about 30 seconds-

♥ Bokuto and Kuroo regularly kiss each other's cheeks and heads (only while wearing socks though) as a sign of broship. Also sometimes cuddles

♥ I would like to believe that someday after the Olympics every single character in Haikyuu gets together again and they all just end up in a large gym catching up and playing volleyball again. Oikawa and Hinata team up to play against Kageyama and Ushijima, and Iwaizumi is watching from the side with his eye out on Oiks because of his knee. And then Suga is finally setting again and there’s just so much happiness in his eyes, and Kuroo is blocking all of Kenma’s dumps. Ugh and Akaashi is setting to Bokuto again and Bokuto is literally crying while he’s spiking because he just missed playing with Akaashi so much. And Goshiki and Shirabu are actually working together and have gained mutual respect for each other even though Shirabu still makes smart remarks. Omg omg and then Tsukishima ends up playing on the same team as Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi and they’re watching him whoop ass and they’re just having flashbacks to that first training camp when they met him!! And Kenma gets to set for Hinata, and Yaku and Noya are going head to head to see who’s the better Libero! There’s too many characters that I could keep talking about So I’m gonna stop but come on that’s some real sentimental shit right there lmao. Actually you know what I’m gonna make a whole other post dedicated to this scenario lmao idk

[celosiaa]

steady, love (chapter 3)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed (tm) with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

WARNINGS: a bit of dysphoria and depersonalization, nothing too graphic

Chapters 1-5 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Oh, Martin.

The pitiful sight that greets Jon at the bottom of the stairs tugs at his heart strings.  Martin is seated on the small couch, shrouded as much as possible in a large crocheted blanket, rubbing his swollen eyes beneath his glasses.  Jon watches for a moment as Martin leans forward, elbows on his knees, and gives a miserable sniff.

Jon intentionally steps heavier as he enters the living room, doing his best to give Martin some warning of his approach.

Best not to startle him.

With the softest voice he can muster, Jon gently calls out.

“Martin?”

His attempts not to startle him are in vain, as Martin jumps bodily at the sound.  His head whips around, glasses falling askew over watery eyes, full alertness on his face.  Finding that the culprit had been Jon, he relaxes into an easy smile, pushing his glasses to their proper position.

Something warm pools in Jon’s stomach, and he cannot resist smiling in return.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  How long have you been awake?”

Martin opens his mouth to answer, but snaps it shut after a moment before shrugging and turning away, gazing at the floor.  Jon stares at his back, frowning in confusion.  He then walks around in front of the coffee table, directly in front of him.  Martin’s eyes remain rooted to the ground.

“Are you…upset with me?”

At this, Martin looks up quickly and shakes his head with vigor.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”  Jon says, a bit of frustration unintentionally creeping into his tone.

Martin’s eyebrows shoot up, and he shakes his head hastily again.  Taking a moment to swallow, he then opens his mouth with determination and croaks.

“I—”

Martin cannot manage any more has he breaks off into a fit of sharp, painful-sounding coughs.  He doubles over immediately, hands covering his face.

Shit.

Jon—guilt now flooding him—hurriedly sits down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back.  After a few moments, Martin sits back up, with eyes streaming and one hand clasped at his throat.  Jon’s own eyes begin to tear with sympathy at the sight, and he begins rubbing slow circles onto Martin’s upper back.

“Oh, dear. Are you alright?”

Martin nods, not meeting his eyes.  Jon doesn’t need the powers of the Eye to know that he’s lying.

“What can I do?  Can I get you some water?  Tea, perhaps?”

Martin nods again, sniffling and lifting the collar of his t-shirt to wipe at his eyes.  Frowning at him for a moment, Jon stands and begins puttering around the kitchen for tea.

Black tea, steeped for three minutes, replace the sugar with honey…

Behind him, Martin sounds as if he’s fighting for control over his lungs, if the muffled sputtering is anything to go by.

God, he sounds awful.

Jon unscrews the cap on the jar and pours an unholy amount of honey into Martin’s tea.

Handing it to him, their hands brush briefly, and Martin meets his gaze—giving Jon the sunniest smile he has seen in a long time, watery eyes and all.  Jon can feel his face flushing, the corners of his mouth turning up involuntarily.  Martin huffs out a silent chuckle before closing his eyes and inhaling the steam rising from the tea.  His contented expression quickly falls, however, when something audibly bubbles in his chest upon exhaling.

Eyes snapping open, he gags and pitches forward, tea splashing over the rim of his mug.  Alarmed, Jon hastens to take it from his hands.

“Martin?” he inquires anxiously.

He holds his position for a few seconds, not daring to breathe, before it seems he can no longer avoid it.  He begins to expel deep, rattling hacks—and thick tendrils of smoke pour out of him in waves.  In shock, the mug Jon holds shatters on the ground, forgotten.

“MARTIN? What…oh god, here here—” Jon puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder before turning and looking wildly about the room, bracing to meet whatever threat may come through the fog.  His heart pounds loudly in his ears as he issues a single, repeated thought into the growing gloom of their cottage:

You can’t have him you can’t have him you can’t have him you can’t—

Desperately, Jon attempts to Know the threat, to understand it—but is knocked back with an overwhelming dizziness, every cursed Mark on his body lighting up with pain.  With a gasping cry, he falls to the floor, slamming onto his hands and knees.

Jon loses time for a moment, breathing through the pain as it slowly begins to recede.  When he drifts back to the present, all is quiet, and he senses a warm presence at his side.  Looking up, he finds that Martin has knelt in front of him, his hands hanging in mid-air, as if afraid to touch him.  Jon meets his gaze, and relief immediately floods Martin’s face.  He reaches out a hand to cover Jon’s as Jon shifts his weight back to sit on curled toes.

“Okay?” Martin mouths worriedly, no sound leaving him.

“Wha—”

Jon regards Martin’s concern with a look of bewilderment for a moment.

“I-I’m fine now, just…what was that?  What happened?”

Martin clears his throat and swallows.

“I think it’s the Lonely leaving me,” he whispers with difficulty.  He turns away to cough sharply, his hand returning to clutch his throat and tears welling in his eyes.

“What do you—"

Jon trails off as Martin wipes his eyes with his shirtsleeve, giving a wet sniff.  Jon sighs and squeezes Martin’s hand.

“Hang on, I’m going to grab you some paper and a pen, alright?”

Martin nods, leaning back against the couch from where he’s still sat on the floor.  Jon stands slowly, his abused knees aching in protest, before stepping into the kitchen to retrieve a notebook from his backpack.  He begins to head back, but stops abruptly, turning on his heel and retrieving a glass of water for Martin as well.

When he returns, Martin has sat himself back on the sofa.  Jon hands him the notebook and pen before sitting next to him, placing the glass on the coffee table. Leaning over his shoulder, he watches as Martin bends over the table to write in neat, slanting cursive:

I think it’s the Lonely leaving me.  Not sure though.

“How many times has this happened?

Just once this morning.  Gave me scare

Jon huffs a humorless laugh.

“Gave me a scare too.  But how—how do you know it’s leaving you?  That it’s not…I don’t know, making some sort of reappearance?”

I’m not sure, but when it happened this morning, I was thinking about—

Martin pauses his writing for a moment, blushing and twiddling the pen between his fingers.

—how nice everything was last night.  I felt really happy, and the smoke was there when I breathed out, like it was escaping

Martin underlines the word “nice” twice.

Jon blushes to the tips of his ears.

Get a hold of yourself Jon, for Christ’s sake.

Finished, Martin regards Jon’s flustered expression before letting out a chuckle that turns into a quick cough.  As he does so, a small wisp of smoke puffs from his mouth.

Jon clears his throat in an attempt to do so.

“It…looks like you might be right.”  They watch as the smoke curls and disappears as quickly as it appeared.

They hold the silence for a moment, both lost in thought.

Jon eventually looks back at him.  “Is this why you’re ill?”

Martin raises his eyebrows at this before leaning down to write.

I don’t know.  Maybe not though.  I think I’ve been a bit—

He twiddles the pen again.

—run down for a while.

Jon’s chest aches.

“…yeah.”

Martin turns toward him at this, regarding him thoughtfully.  After a moment, he taps Jon’s knee to get his attention before continuing to write.

What happened with you?  Did you to try to use your eye thing?

“Yes, yes—I-I thought something might be trying to attack us, so I tried to see what it was, but…it was a bit overwhelming.  I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Martin reaches out a hand to cup Jon’s face, before moving his lips soundlessly.

“Are you okay?”

Jon covers his hand with his own, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Yes, I swear Martin.  I’m alright now.”

Martin returns his smile and rubs a thumb over Jon’s cheekbone before dropping his hand.  He takes the glass of water from the table before leaning back against the couch, drinking it down gratefully.

After Jon recovers his ability to think something other than the constant stream of MartinMartinMartinMartin running unhelpfully through his mind, he notices that the flush on Martin’s cheeks seems a bit more permanent than his own.  His forehead is gleaming with sweat again, the bit of fringe that hangs over his face appearing damp.  Frowning, Jon places a hand on Martin’s brow, and Martin’s eyes flutter closed.

3͓̄͗8̩̝̃̾̚.̹͓̌ͯ̓1̜̓̔̾.̙

Jon Knows this without even trying.  He drops his hand and Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely disappointed.

“Well, you’ve definitely got a fever,” Jon says softly.  “And I need to get us some food.”

Martin nods, his gaze dropping.  Jon carefully monitors his foggy expression as he continues.

“Will you be alright here if I go find the shop?”

Martin doesn’t look up, staring down into the empty water glass and running a thumb along the rim for a moment.  He then sits up, picking up the pen and bending over the coffee table once again.

Can I come and wait in the car?

Immediately as he finishes writing, Martin begins shaking his head, trying to cross out what he’s just written.

Jon places a gentle hand on his arm.

“No, no—stop, stop—”

Martin does, putting down the pen and sighing.

“Of course—of course you can come, alright?  It’s fine, Martin, really.”

He glances up at Jon for a brief moment before giving a small smile and nodding.

With a deep exhale, Jon stands from the sofa, knees objecting to the movement once again.

“Let’s run up and get ready then,” he says, offering Martin a hand, which Martin accepts.

Ten minutes later finds Jon peering into the small mirror hung on the wall, arranging his hair into a half-decent top knot.

This is not your face.

The thought hits Jon like a train, as pictures of himself from uni, from his first day of work, from his first day as head archivist flood his consciousness.  His old face…full, healthy, not covered in scars, his eyes still a deep brown rather than this aberrant green—

Let it go.  Just breathe it in and let it go.

What’s done is done.

Jon does not look back up at the mirror.

A few minutes later, Martin returns from the bathroom and begins rummaging through his bag while Jon sits on the bed, pulling on his shoes.  Jon turns from fiddling with his laces when he hears a distressed-sounding exhale coming from where Martin is kneeling.

“What is it?”

Looking over, Jon can see that Martin is holding his binder with both hands, staring down at it.  His brow furrowing, Jon walks over to him with a lopsided gait, as only one shoe has made it onto his foot.

“What’s wrong?” Jon repeats softly.

Martin lets out a damp-sounding huff before whispering a reply.

“Shouldn’t wear it when you’re ill,” he says, eyes brimming, and looks down.

Oh, darling.

“I…I’m so sorry,” Jon murmurs as he kneels down with him.  Unsure of what to say, he begins rubbing circles on Martin’s back as he takes measured, grounding breaths.

After a few moments of this, Martin exhales determinedly before placing his binder aside and pulling out a loose-fitting jumper instead.

“Thank you,” he whispers, patting the hand on his shoulder.

“Anytime.”

He gives Martin’s shoulder a final squeeze, and leaves him to it, grabbing his other shoe on the way out.

Jon waits anxiously on the sofa for a few minutes, wanting desperately to Know if Martin is alright, if he was okay to be left alone, but not wanting to invade his privacy.

Surely he’s fine.  He just needed a moment, and he’s fine.

His leg begins to bounce with worry.

Relief washes over him when he hears Martin descending the stairs.  Jon stands quickly as he enters the room.

Ignoring his red-rimmed eyes, ever-present sniffling, and unnatural flush, he looks…almost normal.  Almost Martin.  Jon gives him a lopsided grin, which Martin mirrors, and Jon thinks he sees his face grow just a shade more pink.  Martin then jerks his head toward the door, one eyebrow raised in questioning.

Jon barks out a laugh at this, before replying.

“Yes alright then.  Bossy.”

Martin chuckles a bit in response, before it morphs into chesty coughs muffed in his sleeve, thin tendrils curling gently from his lips.  When he turns back to Jon, he is grinning widely enough to show his teeth.

“Rude, making me laugh in this state,” he whispers.

Jon dissolves into laughter again, flicking out the light as they walk out the front door.

[classlesstulip]

Solstice

Pt. 1: Last Minute Gift

(A little seasonal thing. Will be a 3-parter, with a part focusing on each man seperatly, and finished with the actual gift exchange.)

Pushing through the crowds, Julian tucked his chin into the folds of the scarf twined around his neck. His eyes watered whenever the wind blew, and the few times his nose peaked free of its warm, wooly prison, it was stuck back in, tingling from the cold.

Argh, I should have done this sooner! Right now, it was only days away from the Winter Solstice, which would host Neptunia's Midwinter Feast. It was traditional for gifts to be exchanged at the height of the day, before the feasting truly began. The Winter Market was in high swing, with hundreds of shoppers and vendors crowding the town squares, hawking food, drinks, and wares to the buzzing crowds.

Unfortunatly, this winter has been an unkind one, and Julian had been unable to find the time to shop for a gift for his husband, let alone spend any sort of quality time with Ty. Winter came early this year, causing all sorts of issues: everything from the usual aches and pains of the elderly, slips and falls, and a most HORRID flu season.

Hence why he is only just now braving the market. While Ty would understand his being unable to shop for a gift, Julian knows the man has been busting his ass making something to give to him. It just wouldn't feel right for Julian to unwrap a wonderful gift only to respond with a 'sorry! I've got nothing!' in return.

Oh, but he could do without these crowds!

*****

It's been HOURS. And he's empty handed.

With all of the selection laid out for him, with the sheer variety of goods available, and all at different prices, he's still without a gift. Every time something would catch his eye, he would soon find a reason to not buy it.

Jewelry? Eh, while nice, it's a tad too impersonal. If he had had the time, Julian would have rather sat down with a goldsmith and designed something.

Clothing? Ty's already a MASSIVE clotheshorse. Finding something that would be to his tastes while also not being something he already owns would be...difficult.

And don't even bring up food; the man's a master in the kitchen. Julian honestly can't think of any edible giftbaskets that would even meet Ty's standards.

This is going to take a while.

*****

Julian had been a bit iffy about his latest idea, but he was out of options at this point. If he can't come up with anything here, he's done for.

He had briefly entertained the idea of HIM being the gift, but considering how often they have sex already...

...yeah, that would be a cop-out. And Julian was many things, but a quitter wasn't one of them.

Lucky for him, there was a vendor who sold a great deal of the ONE thing that was guarenteed(!) to make Ty as happy as a clam:

Yarn.

And LOTS of it.

And a bunch of accessories for knitters and crocheters, but that's a bit of a sidepoint right now.

Under a large canopy, enclosed in a tent, was a series of tables and baskets. All were overflowing with skein upon skein and ball upon ball of wooly goodness. Every color Julian has ever seen (and a few he, until now, had only imagined), in hues going from the barest kiss of color to a shade a hair off from the darkest dark, exploded in a riot.

And it was QUALITY. From the thinest lace to the bulkiest, rope-like single-ply arm-knitting thickest, each skein had a defined twist and neat appearance. Not a pill to be seen, not a slub to be found. Some shimmered with a hint of silk, others softened with a fine halo of kid mohair.

He had let out a quiet whoop when he stumbled upon the tented stall, but was too happy to be embarassed by the chuckling owners. The moment he realised what they were selling, he had stripped his gloves off and started fondling all the yarn he could.

Ty is goning to be so happy!

*****

The couple who owned the stall had left Julian in peace for quite some time, they themselves being long familiar with a person doing a 'yarn crawl'. The woman (and possibly wife) of the duo had gone back to her own knitting while the man/husband continued doing some paperwork. Aside from some quiet but warm greetings, they left Julian be.

For about half-an-hour.

"You seem a little lost, mate."

"HNGK!" Jumping, Julian nearly took out the yarntree he had been examining. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the man and winced. "Oh, sorry, but um, yes, or well, no. I'm not lost per se, just uh," he trailed off helplessly.

"Too much to choose from? I'm Lars, by the way, and the vision over by the checkout table is my wife, Lirsa," the newly-named Lars said in good-natured amusement.

"Ah, yes, you could say that. And I'm Julian."

After a quick handshake, the two men started discussing all things yarn, Lars trying to help Julian narrow down his gift choices and being pleasantly surprised at the others yarn knowledge.

Of course, the married couple laughed when Julian mentioned being married to a Principia.

"You know, instead of yarn, maybe a new set of needles or hooks would be best," Lirsa suggested from her seat. "It sounds like your hubby already has quite the stash, and one can never have enough good tools."

Julian hummed, a bit torn. While he knows enough about Ty's yarn preferences to make educated guesses about what he would like, needles are a bit more difficult. "I certainly wouldn't say no to looking, but my darling can be a bit picky about things such as needles."

Pulling open a display bureau, Lars fetched a few things before coming back over. Julian could see several needle shafts clenched in a calloused hand, different colored woods mixing together.

"I mean, not trying to be disrespectful or anything, but my Tiberius has incredibly high standards. His current favorites are a kit made out of snakewood and- oh my stars," Julian's eyes lit up upon seeing one particular set of needles in the bunch. "They're perfect! How much for a full set!?"

*****

Leaving the tent with a wave, Julian started trotting home. Under one arm was a long, flat, rectangular wrapped box, and hanging from his hands were several stiff paper canvas bags, splashes of brightly colored yarn peeking over the top. He hummed an old, half-remembered shanty under his breath as he went, eyes darting about. Reaching the end of town, at the spot where flagstones gave way to old, smooth cobbles, he stopped.

The sun had long since set, leaving only the warm light given off by the wrought-iron gas lamps as his guide. The lights from the full houses and busy shops behind him backlit everything, growing his shadow long as he stared out at silvered darkness. Going down the lane towards home, lamps were posted every twenty feet or so, creating little pockets of light, a barrier between him and the sapphire night.

Every year he sees this, he becomes so thankful that Ty decided to settle here, in Neptunia. Every Spring and Summer he is surrounded by violently vibrant life, and every Autumn he watches again as nature prepares for the Long Sleep.

But Winter? That time of year where frosty clouds of white blankets the fields, where dark and bare trees become dressed in their best snow and icicles, and where the world becomes soft and quite with every fresh new snow?

Winter is second only to Summer, in his book.

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Fragile

A/N: No one requested this. It’s almost in celebration of the end of the Mercury retrograde. Thanks to my beta and PSM @mollymarymarie ily 🖤 Enjoy!

Warnings: illness, pregnancy scare, pregnancy, anxiety, depression (This was rough. I’m sorry?)

Word Count: 1.5k

Your flat was spotless. It was always kept neat, but there was usually some telltale sign of life; an open notebook, your ongoing crochet project, or your latest cup of tea. Something. But there was nothing. It was like you hadn't been there in days.

Brian was worried. You were always so good about letting him know if you would deviate from your plans. It was just lunch, but Brian had been gone for 2 weeks and was looking forward to seeing you again.

He rang your best friend to see if they had seen you. “Y/F/N, have you seen Y/N?”

“Brian, thank God you're back.” It came out so quickly. The last few days had been a wreck.

“Why do you sound so stressed? What's going on?” Brian was lost. You were missing. Y/F/N was stressed. Something had to have gone horribly wrong.

“Meet me at Y/N's flat. I'll be there in 5 minutes. There's too much to say over the phone.” There was a click and dial tone before Brian could object. So he waited as patiently as he could for the answers he so desperately needed.

You had been in the hospital for 2 days now. The doctors said that you had an ulcer due to a bacterial infection. Which was the reason you had been sick everyday for the last week and the reason you'd finally collapsed while studying with your best friend. You had terrified the poor dear, but now that you were on the mend, they were doing much better.

The chain of events that lead to this precise moment could probably be traced back to your first year of university. That was when you'd met Brian and you were immediately smitten. He was kind, reserved, and intelligent. You couldn't figure out what an astrophysics student was doing in your conservation biology class, but he had revealed an intense passion for preserving wildlife during syllabus week.

The two of you had been attached at the hip since then, despite very different class schedules. After a few months, he finally admitted that he had feelings for you and asked you to go steady. It was all too easy to accept and adjust to your new routine.

As the band took off, the two of you grew closer together and you learned more about Brian. Now, you knew him like the back of his hand. He was a creature of habit and very easy to predict. He also suffered from severe bouts of melancholy from time to time, you’d learned what would cause them and how to avoid triggering an episode. So although things were touch and go occasionally, you wouldn't trade a day with him for a single moment without.

Avoiding an episode was exactly what had landed you here. Your final set of midterms were upon you and a couple of your classes had the opportunity to end up below “sea level” if you weren't careful. Not to mention, you were late.

Two weeks late and sick constantly. It was nerve wracking to bring it up to the nurse, but you needed to know. She promised to get a test done discreetly and slip you the results when they came in.  

It had barely registered to you that Brian was supposed to return home today until your best friend had called to let you know that they were both on their way. Everything would have to come out. Everything. Hiding it would only be worse.

No one knew about the test except you and the nurse. You weren't sure what you would do if it came back positive. You weren't sure what Brian would do either. You'd had a few calls while he was away, but never brought it up. This could send him spiraling and you couldn't handle that and midterms and being sick. It would be too much.

You'd fallen asleep with the help of pain meds and woke up to Brian by your side. He looked so tired. The trip must have been productive for him not to get much rest. You reached out and took his hand, drawing his attention to you.

“Good morning, Starlight.” He smiled sadly. This must be doing a number on him.

“Good morning to you, too, Sunlight. How was your trip?” You smiled with as much energy as you could muster. The medications had been helping, but you were still so tired.

“It was fine. We can talk about it later.” He was trying to deflect. Clearly, something was pressing on his mind. “Can you tell me what happened? Y/F/N wasn't very clear. They weren't making a lot of sense.”

You took a deep breath and got ready to launch into your story. You gave his hand another squeeze and held on for dear life.

“I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier.” You met his eyes. They were filled with worry.

“I've just been so stressed with school. These are some of my last exams and my classes aren't going as well as they should be.” You were so disappointed with yourself.

“So I've been pushing myself. And I haven't told you because you've been so busy with the band and your doctorate. I just can't bear to overburden you.” Brian looked ready to give you the lecture of your life, so  you continued on. “My reward for being so foolish is an ulcer that's made me sick for the last week from an infection and stress that's compounding all the symptoms. I think I've learned my lesson.”

If anything, Brian only seemed more dead set on that lecture.

“Y/N, I'm not going to break. You don't have to hide bad things from me. We're meant to be partners, after all this time. You need to tell me things.” He wrapped his other hand around your wrist, careful to mind the IV line that was keeping you hydrated, and pressed a kiss to your hand as he raised it to his lips. The worried look hadn't left his eyes yet, but it was starting to lessen.

“I promise I will. I'm so sorry for putting you through this.” You unfurled your hand to caress his cheek. You had missed him so much while he was gone. “There's something else I should tell you, though.”

Before you could get much further than that, the nurse you'd been waiting on showed up. She placed an envelope on your legs and quickly left the room, not wanting to disclose anything that could make you uncomfortable.

Brian grabbed the envelope for you, but held it for just a minute. “I will give this to you, but I need to know what else you have to tell me.”

You took another deep breath. It was now or never, no going back.

“I might be pregnant and the answer is in that envelope.”

Something crossed his eyes and made them look like he was very far away. He handed the envelope over and waited while you opened it.

Highlighted in that oh so familiar neon yellow, there was one line of text that held your fate. “HCG: negative”

You teared up in relief. Kids were something you wanted one day, but not right now. You were too young, life was too unpredictable.

“Starlight?” You'd been so swept up in emotion you almost forgot about Brian.

“I'm not pregnant.” You turned to look at him. He had returned to you, but you couldn't place his emotion.

“One day, Sunlight. One day we can have all the children you want,” you were making a promise you so desperately wanted to keep. “Today is not ours, but we will get there, one day.”

You were lucky enough to be discharged later that day by your new favorite nurse. She gave you all the facts you needed on your condition and new medications. She also managed to secure a doctor's note that would postpone your midterms by 2 days. She was currently your savior.

Brian was given the task of helping you out for the next couple days as your strength returned. You would be semi-dependant on him while you were studying and confined to your bed or couch. He seemed determined to prove that he wasn't as fragile as you thought he was. He wanted to show you more than anything that you could depend on him.

Flash forward: 2 years.

It had been another 2 weeks of constant nausea and fatigue. You'd been controlling your stress better and keeping Brian in your internal loop. The two of you (read you) had learned how to share the load, without overworking yourselves. You were pretty sure that there was no ulcer this time.

In just 2 short minutes, you’d know.

You walked downstairs to see a mess of curls slumped next to a mug on the kitchen table. Brian had pretty much moved in during midterms your last year of uni and you couldn't find a reason to kick him out.

“Good morning, Sunlight.” It came out in a sing-song voice. A groan that sounded like “Morning, Starlight”.

“You can do better than that.” You poked at the curls and were rewarded with a sleepy smile and an arm wrapped around your waist. “There you are, my Sunlight. I think you'll find that today is our day.”

A/N: I really love these pet names, y’all. Each has been made into the study of the other. Sorry. 

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @gwilym-may

[inquizies]

Tagged by @opal-bee, thank you :) Need to get off my butt and do something. Even if it’s this. Also you had some really good questions and I’m probably gonna steal a couple of yours to use.

Rules: answer the questions of the person who tagged you, come up with 11 new ones and tag 11 new people.

Lots of work! But this was a lot of fun to answer and think about.

1. Look out the closest window. What’s the first thing that catches your eye? This really big bush with tiny flowers. No idea what it’s called but as a kid I remember my neighbor showing me that you could pick the little flowers, pull out the pistil and there’d be this small bit of sweet nectar in there I guess, and you could drink it.

2. What one moment/experience in your life would you relive over and over again if you could? That’s tough. Off the top of my head, I would absolutely pick my last day with my old pup Buddy. The day before we had to take him to the vet. I wish I could revisit that day and squeeze new things in there for me and him to do. I wish I could give him one more hug and let him know how much I loved him. He was with me for 14 years but it’s never enough time.

3. How many songs do you know all of the words to by heart? Any song I listened to in middle school. Give me those popular emo/scene bands and songs from 2005-2009 or so and I’ll know all of the words. More specifically and not related, anytime I hear bye bye bye from NYSNC on the radio I will sing along loudly.

4. If you could instantly learn/master one skill or talent, what would it be? I really like this one. Problem is so many come to mind. I think graphic design/drawing would be my main one. Some of you on this site are so damn talented with your drawings. But then again I feel like knitting or crocheting would be cool and if an apocalypse came around I’d be pretty useful. I have to give them a reason to keep me around. I’m no doctor but I can definitely knit you a cool beanie.

5. If you had to pick one fictional place to spend the rest of your life in, what would it be? Thedas without a doubt. Maybe I’ll get killed by a demon but I can’t say I would complain much if I’m spending most of that time with Commander Cullen. Andromeda would also be really neat cause fucking space right and fucking while in space right.

6. What single question would you most like to know the answer to? I like the way this question is phrased cause I could pick something that only I could know and make myself rich or find a cure to cancer. But being more serious, I’d really like to know exactly how I can help people stuck in immigration centers. I’m just some random person with no money at the moment, what the fuck can I do to help? A cure for cancer would be cool too.

7. What is one luxury you can’t live without? Honestly, probably video games. I can escape in my books too but it’s nice to switch it up. I could also reverse that. I don’t know what else I would do to get that escape.

8. What was the sweetest compliment you’ve ever received? I still absolutely stand by that time my mom said one of my DAI characters looked like me. Cause she was pretty damn hot. Thanks mom.

9. What’s the strangest gift you’ve ever received? Maybe not weird but every birthday and christmas my sister always includes some sort of decor that’s shaped in the letter K. Not weird and I appreciate the other stuff she gifts to me, but what am I gonna do with all of these K’s?

10. What scent gives you the greatest feeling of nostalgia? So back when I first discovered Mass Effect, our only computer was in the living room at that time. There was an air freshener plugged in behind it. I don’t know what scent it was and I really wish I could find out, but on occasion I will come across the scent again and it reminds me of sitting at that computer for hours, creating my Shepherd and finding out about the reapers and accidentally romancing people. Sorry about dumping you for Garrus, Kaidan. You’re a cool guy but you really should have been more clear that we were entering a romantic relationship instead of telling me about it after Ashley died.

11. Do you have a cool or interesting scar, and what’s the story behind it? I have quite a few! Not very cool stories though. I have one on my forehead, it’s not very big now but it’s about an inch long or so (I’m so bad with measurements so), and it’s kind of indented. I have no memory of it but my parents said when I was about 3 I was watching Barney and jumping on the bed and apparently I fell and hit my forehead right on the corner of the dresser. I have a really long one of my left shin from running past this mini palm tree which had god damned spikes growing out of it. And a tiny one of the inside of my right wrist. Shaped like a crescent moon. Some sorta figurine broke and all I really remember is my wrist going down into a sharp, broken part.

@hello-turtless, @dracoangel, @tessa1972, @legimel, @smalefowles, @eternallygraceful, @galadrieljones, @gaysparkler, @fenesvir, @theanatomyofadreamer, @this-is-where-the-fish-live, @xarcadeassassin, @rhunae, whoever wants to do it (:

1. How are you doing and feeling today?

2. What games have you been playing lately, and what do you think about them?

3. What was the last good dream that you can remember about?

4. What are you working on right now and how is it going? (Creative projects, school, work, whatever you want to talk about) Or, what is something you dream of working on? Feel free to answer both if you want.

5. If you could instantly master one skill or talent, what would it be?

6. What is something happy or cool or just something you really wanna share that has happened to you recently?

7. If you had to pick one fictional place and person to spend the rest of your days with, who and where would you pick? Person and place can be from different worlds/realities.

8. What is your favorite restaurant/place to eat? If you’re more of a homebody or chef yourself, what’s your favorite thing to cook for yourself? Or answer them both, up to you!

9. Is there something you need to get off your chest? Be as vague or specific as you’d like.

10. What does it take for you to fall asleep? As in positions, lights, background noises, etc.

11. What is something you never thought you’d imagine yourself doing when you were younger, that you are actually doing now?

[veridium]

sweetest goodbye

@bitchesofostwick I’m literally garbage and spewed this fluff onto my computer so here. it helped that your beautiful torturous fluff from last chapter was so so so good and inspired me. 

PART 8 OF THE TRASH CAN FIRE COLLEGE AU FIC. 

ON THIS EPISODE: The day after their party escapade, and Olivia has a choice to make -- take Cassandra up on her bet and show up at the Church, or skip out and move on for good. She makes a pact with Ellinor that they will do something to clean up the messes they’ve made; how successful that ends up being, well, only time will tell.

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7

--

The worst part is the dry throat that comes when she first wakes up after a Friday of drinking and poor decisions. It always makes her cringe and curl into her bed face-down, until it’s too much to bear and she has to get up and drink a hydroflask’s worth of water from the dorm bathroom sink. That is, unless she wakes up and the first thing she sees is Ellinor’s feet -- which, incidentally, is what happens the morning after their night from hell.

She blinks her heavy lids open and sees them in all their glory: the chipped hunter green nail polish on her big toes, the crocheted anklet hanging on by a worn-down knot. She stretches her arms up and papers crackle -- taco bell wrappers no less.

She groans and pokes Ellinor in her ankle. Her ticklish instincts lead her to flinch and retract a foot into the comforter. A growl from the other end of the dorm twin bed.

“Errrrghhhh,” Ellinor stiffs, rolling over. “Fuck me.”

“You’re the only person I could wake up next to in bed and still be a hundred percent sure I did anything but that,” Olivia mutters back, rubbing her eyes with her knuckle. “What time is it?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Ugh.” She reaches back and slaps her hand a couple times on the nearby dresser searching for what feels like a phone. Finding it, she holds it up over her face only to drop it on her forehead. She winces and cusses under her breath before turning the screen on. “It’s...shit, it’s 2.”

“Too early.” Ellinor curls back over against the wall.

“Ellinor.”

She only burps, followed by a groan of disgust. “My burps taste like fire sauce…”

Olivia sighs heavy and pulls her arms up and over the blanket, folding them against her chest as she stares up at the ceiling. Trying to remember everything: the house party she had no idea about until it was too late. The whiskey -- the excessive whiskey. Cassandra arguing like an asshole in the hall, and her stupid bet. Getting in the car with Theia while Josie asks her what’s wrong over and over. Their arrival at a gay bar and her ordering another double old-fashioned to add insult to injury. Dancing on...tables? Tables.

That is where her memory goes hazy. She wishes it got like that sooner in the evening so she wouldn’t have to think about it all.

“Are you...gonna go?” Ellinor asks, seemingly reading her thoughts.

“I don’t think I should,” she replies honestly, exhaling. “I’m in no shape to be judged for all my mortal sins.”

Ellinors tucks herself deeper into the bed against her borrowed pillow. “Mmph. I don’t think she’s expecting a Saint to show up.”

“I don’t think she’s expecting me to show up at all.”

“Could you blame her, dude?”

She’s right. Grumpy, but right. It would be on-brand for Olivia to keep with her tradition of finding the exit and call it good. She checks her apps on her phone, taking it off DO NOT DISTURB. New messages from several people -- Theia, with a thumbs up after she confirmed they got back to the dorm. Her Dad, wondering why she hasn’t called. The student she’s tutoring wanting to reschedule...again. Then, Cassandra’s name comes up. A message sent at 9am:

--I can send you the address, if you’re planning on coming.

That’s it. That’s all. No tastefully added smiley emoji, no greeting like she would before. She used to say ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight.’ Olivia kind of misses it. But then her voice saying ‘Goodnight, Olivia’ with her understated smugness echoes in her head and compounds her nausea.

“What about Cullen?” Olivia diverts, tossing her phone onto her stomach. “You gonna handle that mess you made?”

“I didn’t make a mess,” Ellinor says resentfully. “I...I got out of hand, and ejected myself before it could get worse. I am glad I did.”

“Ellinor,” Olivia peers down at her, only seeing her bedhead of dark hair against the pillowcase. “He did the cool thing. You know, we like guys who do that cool thing. Right?”

Maybe that is the issue -- he was doing the cool thing. He always does the cool thing. Ellinor doesn’t know where to look for her excuse explaining why she blocks him out. There’s no idle vice, no insincerity, no pretentiousness. No foul taste in music or cinema. He’s just fine. Perfectly fine.

“Look,” Olivia adds, squirming in place. Her head aches. “I’ll cut a deal. I’ll...address my mess, if you address yours. You owe me that after lying to me like a dumbass. Right?”

Ellinor is quiet for a moment. Olivia expects her to say “nuh-uh” and go back to sleep, or start snoring without a word at all. But, to her credit, she rolls back over and peers down her nose, frowning but with acceptance.

“Fine.”

“Fine. You have until tomorrow night at Midnight to do it. Then, we are to have our shit swept under the rug where it belongs.” Olivia smirks bittersweetly, and pecks the side of her foot. “Asshole. I can’t believe you pulled that on me. I hate you.”

“I know. But it was pretty fucking hilarious.” Ellinor stretches her arms up above her head, hands in fists. “Besides, you were hot.”

She is right. She was hot. But dammit if Cassandra did not show a single lick of care in that regard. 2:00pm means she has an hour and a half to get her act together, whatever it is. Should she be spiteful and come dressed like a demonic sorceress with a need for a virgin sacrifice? Or should she play along and maybe not go full throttle-antagonist just yet?

Ellinor pinches her in the calf. “Don’t scare the Preacher into locking you up and exorcising you, please.”

Well, there’s her verdict.

TWO HOURS LATER…

For the second time in the weekend Olivia finds herself standing in front of a building she has no interest in entering, and yet, she is tasked with doing just that. Cassandra’s text was nice, but unnecessary; everyone knew where their Church was. It is a gaudy one, with bells, cobblestone facade, and all. It’s annoying, and old looking, and smells on the inside. At least, that is what she remembers from the last time she set foot in it when she was sixteen.

It’s 4:15. She’s late. But it’s fine. She tugs at the turtleneck collar of her black, crushed velvet dress than goes down to her knees. Around her waist is a black slim belt, and she’s wearing the same kind of black sheer tights from the night before. A compromise between wanting to stick it to Cassandra and accommodate the situation. And oxford heels, the most non-emo punk pair of shoes she owns. Her hair is in a neat top bun but she secretly wishes she had worn it down. Now she won’t be able to hide her face around its waves.

In the front where there is a podium by double doors, and the carpet is blue like she remembers. The side offices look locked up and desolate. She expects there to be several busybody Jesus-Juicers singing or praising the Lord on this fine Saturday evening, and yet, the place is so quiet she could hear a pin drop and scream Hallelujah.

She goes through the two doorways leading to the main chamber, where the two sides of long benches span down the length of the room towards the altar steps. The place is one of those Churches that tries its best to look old despite probably being built no farther back than 1995. Stained glass windows depicting sacred scenes up along the walls, flying buttresses that are probably just mostly plaster, and wooden pews.

She walks until she’s about halfway down the main processional walkway and stops. In the corner is the organ, the one she was forced to play on once. She was learning piano at the time, but her Mother thought she would do well to learn hymns via musical appreciation. It did not go well. The songs she learned were so repetitive, always so mundane to her kid self who wanted to be entertained. Just as she zones out into her childhood of repressed manners, a sound of creaking out from the other side of the altar stage. A door opening fast. In a flash Cassandra appears, dressed in black slacks like the ones she wore the night of the concert and a black button-down dress shirt. Tucked in. Of course. She looks surprised. Like, honestly surprised.

Olivia blinks. “Hello!” 

Cassandra just stands there, looking like the Holy Ghost has stopped by with a cup of coffee and wearing a little, black, long-sleeved velvet dress.

Olivia swallows and starts walking to her. Slowly like a choir processional member. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I…” Cassandra gulps, looking back behind her fast before she refocuses on her guest. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

She furrows a brow. “Is that not what you do when you are invited somewhere?”

“Well, yeah, but…when you didn’t text back, I kind of just assumed...” she looks around again, this time back towards the doors from whence Olivia came. What, is she scared someone is gonna jump out and attack?

“You okay? You look…” Olivia comes around the front row and up the two steps, now standing parallel with her.

“Oh! Uh,” she clears her throat and cradles her arms under her chest. “Yeah. I think I just maybe...uh, nevermind. H-how are you? Did your night get better after your friends came and picked you up?”

It must have. Olivia can’t remember for sure, which is a good sign. Usually. “Agh, yeah,” she smirks, shrugging to one side, “we just did our typical nonsense. I’m still kinda out of it.”

“Right. I had a little too much rum and coke last night, myself.”

“Oh, you do drink rum?”

“Yeah. How did you…”

“I smelled it on your br--I mean, uhm,” she rubs her wrist to her throat and looks toward the altar mosaics. “Cool...cool stuff here. They still have the same sh--I mean, things, here, from what I remember.” She kicks at the ground with her shoe heel.

Cassandra grins, and steps closer. “I mean, religion kind of attests the adage ‘if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

“I think quite the contrary,” Olivia meanders towards the table where the bread and water plates are laid out, clean and pristine, “you would be unpopular around Martin Luther and his friends.”

A chuckle. “Touche.” Cassandra arrives at her side and locks eyes with her. There’s no anger in her expression -- quite the opposite, actually. A reserved hopefulness.

“Listen, Cass--”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Cassandra shakes her head, sliding her hands into her pant pockets. “I get it. Church girl with a mean face turns up and shows interest. Must be an Inquisition on the wings.”

Olivia laughs nervously, tucking nonexistent hair behind her ears. “You said it, not me.” She looks back behind her at the empty room, so spacious and expansive, yet she feels closed in. “I...I admit I’m confused, though.”

“Confused? Why?”

“It’s just. I don’t know. You’re caring an awful lot about a simple friendship…” she scans the windows again, noticing the stark colors of the peoples’ clothes. “Especially one not founded on spiritual salvation.”

She lets her gaze fall on Cassandra, who looks rather engrossed in something. Something...someone, apparently, as her eyes are only on her. Another fleeting moment where Olivia thinks she sees the truth in her intentions, but can’t be sure. It’s one foot in, one foot out, and a door ready to slam on her fingers for daring to touch. But she smiles, and plays coy.

“What’s the matter?”

“...Nothing,” Cassandra’s brows lift, her eyes clearing as she looks away. “Hey, um, I did ask you here for a reason. If you have the time, I’d like to show you something.”

“Oh?” Olivia twists her shoulders, “is this where I meet Trevor?”

Cassandra walks towards the door she came in from, waving a hand casually as an invitation to follow her. “We don’t have a Trevor here. The band leader’s name is Peter, for your information.”

Olivia takes one last look at her surroundings before coming along. “Ah, Peter. Of course. What a non-denominational name.”

She hears another laugh as they walk through the door and down the narrow, white-painted hallway. It’s barely enough space to walk side-by-side, but they manage. Occasionally their shoulders brush, and Olivia merely clings tighter to her coat. They go a right, then a left, and then up a flight of steps, until another pair of double doors appears.

Cassandra looks at her with another careful grin before opening only one of them. She holds it for her, and Olivia glances at her with suspicion before walking inside. That suspicion melts into wonder as she enters a library hall. The tall shelves line the walls, only interrupted by tall, square windows. There’s a philodendron hanging off to one side, flourishing. The standalone rows of shelves match the dark wood on the walls. Books upon books fill the rows to the brim, and to the right there are study desks with lamps. The natural light coming in makes it all look like a portal into the 1940s.

She walks in and stomps her heel to a halt, mouth softly agape. Part of her wants to make a wisecrack, like ‘oh, is this where it’s all held before they burn it?’ but the part of her that prevails is curiosity.

“Why did I never see this room when I went here?” she spits out, turning around to face her. She leaning against the door frame, hands still in her pockets.

She shrugs. “It wasn’t here then. A couple years back the Church started housing missionaries, and they needed a place to study and hold meetings. My family is a patron of the Church, so, they helped furnish the renovation.”

“...Helped?”

Cassandra chuckles and steps in. “Alright. Pushed it. It’s one of the few things my family has done with their money that I don’t instinctively despise.”

“Are these all books on religion, then? Like, fifteen hundred different copies of the Bible?” Olivia looks at the closest shelf, trying to figure out for herself, but it’s just far enough for the spine titles to be unreadable.

“Very funny,” Cassandra stops a couple away “but no. They’re a lot of things. Religion, philosophy, law, poetics. Sometimes college and high school students borrow for their classes. I know some of the surrounding neighborhood kids come here to have a quiet place, too. It’s pretty neat.”

That is neat. Damn. Olivia looks at her and for the first time, genuinely smiles. No pretense, no clever quip. Just agreement. She remembers what it was like in the back of Cullen’s car, when they were still just small-talk and half-hearted laughs. That was what, a week ago? It feels like a month has passed.

“Is this where you bring all the ladies, then? To your cool little hideaway with hanging plants in the windows and a bunch of dead Greek men’s opinions at the ready?” She takes a risk in asking that. A gentle tease, but for someone not receptive to such an insinuation, a litmus test.

Cassandra blushes and rolls her lip. While she buffers, Olivia side-steps towards the shelf for a closer look. She lets a finger tug at a book -- something on the Middle Ages something-or-other, all the while her heart hangs on the response Cassandra is denying her. She holds the cover out to examine it, and footfalls sound off behind her.

“I come here to do assignments. Also to get away, if I am being honest,” she finally speaks, and her answer is not a correction to Olivia’s implication. Hopeful results indeed.

“It seems like an ideal hiding place,” she agrees,  “does God provide wifi?”

“If God is AT&T, then yes.”

They look at each other, and Olivia quells a laugh in her throat. She has to hand it to her, she has a good sense of humor contrary to her stiff, formal exterior. Perhaps she has underestimated her.

“You know, I can’t really figure you out,” Cassandra changes the subject, thereby sliding the spotlight.

“What?” Olivia peers over her shoulder at her.

“I don’t know,” she frowns neutrally, shaking her shoulders again. “Agh, Nevermind.”

Olivia watches her as she places the book back on the shelf. She goes from exuding cool, some would even say strong-arm confidence, to falling back on her words. If anything, it’s Olivia that is left at a loss for figuring out her companion. But she won’t admit to that. That would mean she’d want to know in the first place. Instead, she swings around with a step and faces her again.

“In uh, in any case, since I see a deficit of weird men and Priests ready to douse me in Holy Water, I think you may have won a bet. So, Cassandra Pentaghast,” Olivia pulls at her dress on either side and makes a mock curtsy. “You have my profound apologies.”

“Thank you. I won’t say it was an easy feat.”

“Hah!” Olivia swings her foot to the left, preparing to walk away. Before she does though, she goes out on a limb and reaches out, taking Cassandra’s hand into hers. “Come on, show me around. There’s gotta be something vaguely socialist in here!” incessant in her teasing, but warmer this time.  

Cassandra slouches, her head going back a bit as she grins. But she lets herself get pulled in, and for a moment all goes rosey and Olivia’s heartbeat skips. They’re gonna explore bookshelves, and pick out ones for each other, and argue, and quote excerpts, and somehow they’ll end up on the floor with stacks surrounding them, and someone will offer to order a pizza because hours have passed and they’re suddenly starving. Then they’ll argue over whether pepperoni is better with or without pepper flakes, and she’ll take her shoes off and walk on her toes across the wood. It’s gonna be fantastic, and maybe this once, she won’t sabotage the good time.

But then, A voice calls from the hall. Shit, had she spoken too soon? Was that her plan, to get the bet win and then impose the wrath of the Holy Church?

Cassandra flinches and falls back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her as a man comes in, their hands parting instantly. He’s also dressed head-to-toe in dark slacks, a dress shirt, but with the addition of a belt and polished men’s dress shoes. A man with an aged, calloused face and salt-and-peppered hair. He has sunglasses in his hands and a Rolex-looking watch on his wrist. He steps in imposingly.

“Cassandra. There you are,” he half-scolds, a heavier version of the accent that Cassandra has.

Cassandra’s voice stutters a bit. “Hello, Uncle.”

“Did you get any of my calls? We’re late for dinner. Who is this?” He motions his glasses at Olivia. Before either of them could answer, though, he does. “Wait...I know you. You’re the Sinclair’s daughter...O...Ophelia…?”

“Yes, my name is Olivia, Sir,” she says, disguising her unimpressed attitude with palatable manners. “I’m sorry, it was my fault. I kept Cassandra behind. I needed to return a book.”

Cassandra peers at her in muffled confusion, but does not correct her. Meanwhile, he gives Olivia the once-over, mouth open as he presses his tongue to his lower teeth. Not impressed. She knows all-too-well that face when people realize who she is. It’s no stranger. It still stings though.

“Right, well,” he nods. “Always a pleasure to see those of our flock that have gone wayward make their….necessary, returns.” Condescending prick. “Cassandra, the car is out back. Come on. I’m sure your friend can see herself out, or stay and continue to her...education.”

Olivia can feel the growing heat of resentment stewing beside her, but she keeps her cool.

“Alright, I will be down in a minute. Can I say goodbye at least?” Cassandra manages, calm but displeased.

He shoots her a concerned look, but steps back, clearly not all that invested in the intricacies of his niece’s misadventures when he could admonish her in private. Olivia is all-too-familiar with that method. He waves at her like he’s saying goodbye to a sales clerk or something, and leaves.

“So...that’s…”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. Can I…”

“You can.”

She mutters in relief. “Asshole.”

Cassandra laughs under her breath and turns toward her. “That’s his thing, I’m sorry. He’s right though. I do have to go. I just…” she rocks back on her heels in a quick-paced rhythm as she bites her lip. “Does this mean I get another shot?”

“Another shot?”

A voice from faraway again. Him, probably saying her name. Cassandra looks but hardly wastes more than a second. “I can’t get into it now. Not here. I just…”

Olivia opens her mouth to say something,but she too struggles to find words. She does her best though, for the sake of reassurance. “I mean, totally. Yeah, we can be friends.”

Friends. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

That’s all that’s needed, though, to make Cassandra grin, and her face beam a little bit more like it had before her Uncle interrupted them. “Good. I’ll text you. Uh, see you soon, then?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Olivia smiles. “Uh, you like hugs?”

“Um...oh, yeah, that’s fine.” They are timid at first. Olivia, oddly enough, opts to wrap her hands around Cassandra’s neck as opposed to the quintessential side-and-shoulder platonic model. It makes her stomach flip as Cassandra wraps her arms around her waist, and even though it lasts no more than a second or two, it’s enough to make her want to know what it’s like for an hour, not just a breath. She smells like that Old Spice. And her grip is so strong and careful at the same time.

And just like that, she’s out of her hold and walking out of the door. Leaving her, alone, in a Church -- in the DEPTHS of a Church -- and she didn’t have to kidnap her to do so. What kind of skills did this girl have up those pressed-and-tailored sleeves of hers?

All by her lonesome, Olivia looks around and then deflates. She goes to her phone and pulls up her fellow oath-keeper’s name, and sees a new message already waiting for her.

--Do I have to rescue you yet?

She giggles to herself, and types. Turns out Ellinor was waiting, and her response is instantaneous:

Olivia: --No. But I’m heading back to campus.

Ellinor: --Everything ok?

Olivia: --Yeah...I think??

Ellinor: --Wait, wtf?!

Olivia: --I’ll talk about it later.

She walks out into the hall, and just as she is about to go downstairs, her phone goes off again. This time, it’s Cassandra:

--Hi. Sorry, but, I have to be in this car for an hour. You have any song suggestions? 

She smiles and bites her lip. This is a critical decision. Should she play it cool and send something technically good, but without implicit symbolism? Cassandra seems like the kind of person who likes more easygoing, measured tunes. Not heavy and raw, or dark and doom-wishing. She taps on her phone case for a second, blushes, and pulls up the Spotify link: 

--Songs About Jane is always good to revisit. Start with track 12. Good luck!

She then goes to her own app and turns on the track, titled, “Sweetest Goodbye,” and continues her exit with headphones in. 

[wulfiesessentials]

DIY Crochet Handbag

Have you ever gone into a store or see something on TV/ Internet and say to yourself.. I can make that!!!  Well… Thats what happened to me one day when I went shopping at Target. I was looking for a Tote to carry the yarn I’m not packing up for our move. I glance over and see this crochet handbag… Natural instinct is to immediately check this out.. kinda like quality control.. was it machine made or handmade crochet, etc hahaha I pick it up, examine it.. Wow. it wasn’t machine made.. hmmm Then I look at the price tag and gasp. Nope.. was not going to give a Big named store that amount of money.. I can make this!!

I give you.. The DIY Crochet Handbag 🙂

The Handbag at the store was a neutral colored stiff but still on the soft side,cotton material. So off I went to find yarn similar to this handbag. I found several that were close but still not the exact texture. Then a light bulb went off in my head.. off to the hardware department I went..

Waalaa.. I found it. Cotton twine. This has the same texture and thickness of the ���store” handbag and bonus .. it was 2.84 a ball. I grab a couple and off I went to create the look a like.

Half way through making this handbag, I was thinking about the texture and durability of this bag, then my mind started to wander and all of a sudden I said to myself.. Tye Dye!! Wouldn’t it be cool if you could custom dye your handbag.

After I completed the pattern I went to the craft store and picked up some t-shirt tye dye.

To be perfectly honest, I have never Tye Dyed anything before and after the initial excitement of getting the dye, I started to get a little nervous. I didn’t read the directions of the dye before I purchased and when it came time to make it.. eeekkk. This particular dye was for Large projects and required some math to calculate a smaller batch of dye. I recommend if you are going to dye your handbag to read the directions of several types of dye before you purchase.

The dye I used was 1 packet per Gallon of water.. I cut that down into 3rds and still had dye left over.

I also decided to make some swatches to test dye. So glad I did. The twine doesn’t soak up the dye as I thought it would have. It was almost like water repellent at first. I lightly sprayed water on the first area I was going to dye first… This worked out much better.

I noticed you can actually get some neat effects when spray water on the already dyed area.. it make the dye move and creep up the twine. I started with the darker dye first but you can try many different techniques with your swatches before applying to your handbag.

Cautions with the dye.. this is fabric dye and it will stain anything it gets on.. use gloves and it is best to dye outside where spills will not ruin anything. It was raining here when I went to dye so I did dye inside. I have a stainless steel sink so I used a cooling rack over my sink to dye. For drying I transferred the cooling rack to a old cookie sheet pan.

  For some extra fun.. I made 2 coaster size swatches and let my husband and daughter design their own. It also gave me other ideas on how I wanted my bag to look.

When dyeing don’t worry about areas that arent covered completely with dye..the dye will spread out while drying. Also, keep in mind the color will lighting a bit also. The picture above is when the swatches and bag where wet.

Drying… Again preferably allow them to dry outside. I was late getting this post out because I didn’t not think about dry time. They barely dried while in the house. It wasnt til a day later when I could put them outside for a few hours in the sun that they finally dried. I Do Not recommend putting them in the drier.. the dye will destroy your drier.

  These pictures are of the swatches and bag fully dried. As you can see the dye faded a bit and also the areas that did not have dye filled in with color.

I added some twine to the edges of the coasters the family made. Took a wire brush and combed out the twine and made little Rug coaster. Have some extra fun with this project. This little side project made me think back to crafts we did in school.. was a nice little break away from the everyday schedule 🙂

Crochet Handbag Pattern

This bag is done in the round. It has repetitive rows. It has 2 “special” need to know stitches.. Which are a Cluster and a DC2TOG. Below are a couple links for reference on how to do the “special” stitches.

Cluster.. Mama in a Stitch ….The Cluster for my pattern is only 3DC’s

DC2TOG… New Stitch a Day

Cluster2TOG..

What you will Need…

2 Balls of Cotton twine .. I went to Walmart Hardware Dept to get the kind I used

Handbag Handles.. You can use any you wish for your handbag.. I purchased my Bamboo handles from Joanns.  

Fabric Dye.. Remember to read instructions so you don’t have to make large batches of dye. Also to see if you need anything to add when making dye. I needed Salt.

Dye Bottles & Disposable Gloves

Cheap Aluminum Cookie Sheet.. If you do not have one you can use for drying handbag

5mm Hook

Scissors, Stitch Marker, Tapestry Needle

Abbreviations…

Ch. = Chain

SC = Single Crochet

DC = Double Crochet

HDC = Half Double Crochet

Sl St = Slip Stitch

SK = Skip Stitch

SM = Stitch Marker

Cluster = 3DC Cluster

DC2TOG = Double Crochet 2 Stitches together

* to * = Repeat stitch or stitches between *’s

Note.. Place SM in first stitch of every round so you can keep track of your rows

PATTERN

Ch.44 +1

Round 1.) 2nd Ch from hook SC, SC across – Turn work slightly and SC in between SC and Chain row,n Turn work slightly again ( now you will be working Chain row) SC across, turn slightly and put 2SC in between the 2 rows.

Round 2.) SC around

Round 3.) Sl St into SM SC, Ch.2, DC next stitch, DC around, DC into Ch.2

Round 4.) DC , DC, Cluster, *Ch.1 – SK – Cluster*, Repeat * to * 19 more times, DC,DC,DC,DC ( around corner), Cluster, * Ch.1 – Sk – Cluster, Repeat * to * 20 more times, DC the last 4 stitches.

Round 5.) Start with Cluster, * Ch.1 – Sk – Cluster*,  Repeat * to * 19 more times, DC2TOG, DC, DC, * Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*, Repeat *to* 21 more times, DC2TOG, DC, DC

Round 6.) *Cluster – Ch.1 – SK* Repeat *to* 20 more times, Cluster in First DC, DC2TOG, * Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*, Repeat *to* 22 more times, DC2TOG

Round 7.) *Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*, Repeat *to* 20 more times, DC2TOG ( cluster & dc), *Ch.1 – Sk – Cluster*, repeat *to* 21 more times, DC2TOG ( cluster & last dc)

Round 8 – 9.) Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk  around

Round 10.) *Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*  repeat *to* 21 more times, Cluster2TOG, *cluster – Ch.1- Sk* repeat *to* 19 more times, Cluster2TOG

Round 11.) *Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk* repeat *to* 19 more times, Cluster2TOG, * Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk* repeat *to* 19 more times, Cluster2TOG

Round 12 -16.) * Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*, Repeat *to* around

Round 17.) *Cluster – Ch.1 – Sk*, repeat *to* around til you reach last Cluster, In last cluster place 2 HDC’s

Round 18.) 2HDC in each previous row cluster ( not in Ch.1 space)..

Round 19.) SC around, Sl St into first SC and Finnish off.

Attaching Handles…

Depending on the type of handle you use, there is several ways to attach your Handles. On my handbag I choice 2 different ways you could attach them.

  First photo is a single sewn, center hold. Second picture I placed additional wrapping on either side. Options are limitless on how you would like to attach yours.

Attach along the whole bottom half of handle, Partial attachment, etc.. Also… Keep in mind as to whether or not you want your handle “holder” to be dye’d or Natural. If you want it to match, make sure you dye some of your extra cord.

When attaching the handle you want to use a whole cluster.. So sew from bottom of cluster, up around handle and into top of same cluster and just keep going around and across the same row of clusters,  til your happy with the hold and look.

Get creative with your bag.. this is your creation and it needs your personal touch 🙂

I hope you have fun with this DIY Handbag and Please let me know if you have any questions. Those that would like to share your finished handbag I would love to see them… You can post them here in Comments or #wulfiesessentials on instagram 🙂

THIS PATTERN WAS MADE AND DESIGNED BY WULFIESESSENTIALS©. YOU MAY MAKE AND SELL THE ITEMS MADE FROM THIS PATTERN, BUT PLEASE LINK BACK TO MY SITE. YOU MAY NOT ALTER, REPRODUCE, SELL OR DISTRIBUTE THIS PATTERN. DO NOT USE THE PHOTOS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS PATTERN WITHOUT PERMISSION.

WulfiesEssentials© is neither paid or affiliated with any persons &/or Business mentioned in this post. Any “review” is solely my opinion based on use of the Item mentioned in this post.

The DIY Crochet Handbag DIY Crochet Handbag Have you ever gone into a store or see something on TV/ Internet and say to yourself..

[sukisdeliveryservice]

hi ash! sorry that im a little late, ive been a bit preoccupied these few days, but im glad you like talking to me :D i rly like talking to you too <3 i appreciate that you put so much effort into answering everything T-T i do have discord actually! id love to continue talking over there after this :D also this is crazy long so dont rush yourself sjhdjdjd

if you want any nct music recs in the future you can come to me 😌 i really love hello future!! i say this about every title track during every comeback but its really my favourite one right now! 

YOU PLAYED DRUMS?? thats so cool :O ive always found drummers rly attractive sjshjehdjsh 

the have i evers :

i have never! been to a concert, ive just never had the chance :/

i have! sneaked out, but it was with the help of my mum where my dad didn't know lmao ehejenjdhen

i have! gone through both a one direction and bts phase. 1D came first and it lasted for almost half a year i believe? and i discovered bts in 2018 thanks to my friend, but i started exploring and eventually drifted apart from them in early 2020. jungkook still has a special place in my heart tho :)) 

i have! had a irl crush actually :'D he actually knew i liked him but did nothing at all and we remained pretty good friends, but he stopped talking to me about over a year ago, and i lowkey don't wanna admit it but i miss him sometimes :') 

i have! pets. i have 3 dogs and a cat currently, and i have 6 other unofficial dogs and a idk how many fish which are at my grandma's side :DD

i have! performed in front of a crowd, i was in a storytelling competition when i was 9 and 10, and then i learned to play the erhu when i was 12 and performed a few times :)) 

i have! fic wise, i also love by-moonflowers fics sm! T^T i read her tokyo ghoul au and i actually didn't have a clue what tokyo ghoul was, i looked it up on wikipedia before reading it djbfkdhdjd and her exes confront each other series was really amazing too. and im rambling but her jeonghan magic au, all the stars we steal, that was probably the first fic of her's i read and it hit something in me and i really wish i could read it again like it was the first time 😔 i really loved it sm. book wise, i will never forget jodi picoult's small great things. and also like any book reader, ps. i love you is definitely a favourite of mine :') it was so touching and i just genuinely really love that story. 

i have! there's quite a lot of moments like that, but this one where i went on vacation in the mountains? we stayed at a very nice place. on the first day i was really tired so i slept til the evening, and when i woke up it was drizzling and there's was quite a breeze, so i sat in front of the open door of my room. in front was a swimming pool so i just put on some music and watched the rain drop into the pool. it was the most relaxed i had felt in a while and i wish i could go back :') 

i would say i have! when we can talk anon off i'll tell you which one, but i really enjoyed writing this one drabble/oneshot and im glad other people seemed to like it as well :DD

and ofc i have! i met seventeen when i was pretty down, and i treasure them the most now. they helped me through a lot and really changed me and im really grateful to them

i wanna know your answers to these too! so, have you ever

been to a place/been in a particular mood after a specific event that you wanted to stay in forever?

written a piece of work that sparked energy within your fingertips?

met a person/have someone in your life who you now just treasure so deeply?

the next mission is out dkhdkdhfj but i'll continue for now, would you rather (pls dont hate me after this)

only listen to seventeen or txt forever

spend a week with soobin or chan

only eat bingsu or only watch 1 studio ghibli films for the rest of your life

sign with sm or yg or jyp

know how to play every single instrument or speak language in the world

be a master at something you love (singing, dancing, writing, that kinda thing) or something unique (like having a photographic memory or like ice carving? or even mouth reading)

i also suddenly remembered, but knitting is also one of my many hobbies :D

- 💎 anon loves you and wishes you a good day!

you can reply whenever you are ready anon. it excites me that we've been having a steady back and forth but sometimes life happens and you should definitely prioritize any other responsibilities you have!! i'll always be here 😌 knitting is a fun hobby anon!! i used to do that and crochet a lot too ,,, i should get back to it. what do you make?

before i go ahead and answer these can i just say how much i love that you personalized it?? that really means a lot to me <3 anyways~ here we go!! when we get to turn off anon i would love to hear some nct recs!! most of my irl kpop friends ult them and i'd love to get to know more!! and discord would probably be the best way to share because the asks just get longer and longer LOL (i love them)

drums yes!! i've been told that i look like i'd play the piano instead bahaha but i think drums are pretty neat :3 i also saw this person ask huening kai about band txt and he said soobin would play the drums :O need i say more?

thank you for your answers!! we definitely gotta talk more about them once we can chat on discord!! i loved reading them and they were just so lovely <333 for the last 3:

i don't think so? i have yet to be in a moment where i am completely lost in the energy - but the closest i've been to that level of peace would be the late nights where i'm playing my favourite music and about to drift off to sleep. i feel almost content, and sometimes wish i could stay in my dreams forever :3

my very first fic!! flights and feelings - i was writing it on a whim at 2 am? and i wasn't planning on posting it until i did randomly and now i am a tumblr writer :O

seventeen like you said! i don't think i would have made it through the rest of high school without them, and as of now they've been one of the things keeping me going :)

the next mission is out owo playlist making do i see? anyways onto these first!! how dare you write these anon my head is SPINNING

only listen to seventeen or txt forever ...seventeen, they're my ults!! but also because they have more music released atm, we have yet to see the amazing things txt have planned!! i wouldn't be surprised if i start ulting txt in the future as well :3 i...bought 3 of their albums a few days ago

spend a week with soobin or chan // WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THIS ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEADACHE (moots please look away) soobin <3 i love them both very much but i think soobin and i will vibe more maybe it's my delusions THEY'RE BOTH MY ULTS and i'm scared of talking to both D: but soobin is slightly younger than chan so that's why i think he'd be easier to talk to T_T the thought of spending a week with soobin makes my head spin

only eat bingsu or only watch 1 studio ghibli films for the rest of your life // bingsu!! i would not mind that one bit :3

sign with sm or yg or jyp // as someone who is a terrible singer and dancer, i would not survive in either of these companies. however, under the assumption that i can do these things, i would say... jyp. i don't think there's an entertainment company that treats their idols completely right but out of these 3 i feel like i'd cry less in jyp. is kq entertainment an option? idk all the details but they seem to treat ateez okay, or maybe IU's company...again i don't know all the deets

know how to play every single instrument or speak language in the world // speak every language in the world!! it upsets me everyday that i'm not close to my culture because of this :(

be a master at something you love (singing, dancing, writing, that kinda thing) or something unique (like having a photographic memory or like ice carving? or even mouth reading) // i'd say maybe something unique!! it's kind of thrilling to always be looking for ways to improve on something you love <3 so i'd go with something unique...a photographic memory would be very helpful for studying!! but maybe i'd like to have a talent in making people smile!!

thank you for these questions anon!! i'm heading out to work now but i'd love to write you some more would you rathers later on :) i should have packed more questions into this reply but i really gotta go now sorry :( so instead just tell me how are you!! also i would like to know your answers to these ones!! you are very creative with these btw :3

which of your biases would you want to spend a week with?

what food would you be okay with eating for the rest of your life?

would you rather:

sign with sm, yg or jyp?

know how to play every single instrument or speak language in the world?

be a master at something you love or something unique?