#i have a lot of leftover yarn from this one so...i might make a third one lol. don't know what i'll do with it tho

[shivunin]

Cullen Scarf 2.0!

So it's been a few months since I posted the first iteration of this and I have since completed this improved version (as a gift c:).

I adjusted the width to make it easier to wear, made it longer (~7.5 feet) so it can drape back around the front, and made the ruff detachable via lion buttons. The "fur" yarn I used on this one was waaaaaay easier on my hands, thank goodness.

Other Dragon Age Scarves:

Fenris | Morrigan | Warden | Leliana

[fforsythiaaa]

Weird Muggle Loop Magic

I have this headcanon that since Sirius is so good at mechanical things like fixing up a motorcycle, he’d also be really good at knitting, which involves a lot more math than I’m personally comfortable with. So here’s my contribution for Hat & Gloves day from @remus-john-lupin ‘s Wolfstar Holiday 2020 prompt list! 

The Homonculus charm had worked, for a little while, but lately it had started to falter, and slowly the Hufflepuffs disappeared from the map one by one. It was contemplating this problem, shoulder to shoulder with Remus on the couch in the common room, that Sirius accidentally found a new fascination in the tiny, quick movements of Lily’s muggle knitting project next to the fire. She counted under her breath as she switched between the colored yarns, and every once in a while she levitated some scribbled notes in front of her face to consult while her hands were busy. He found himself trying to work out from across the room how the little knots worked together, and how Evans had managed to turn them into the hooded shawl draped over her shoulder without magic.

“Come on, Evans, please. I need to know how it works,” he pleaded later, racking his brain for something he could trade for knitting lessons. “And I want to make a hat and some gloves. Once I get to that point, I’ll never talk to you about your weird muggle loop magic again.” 

Lily kept walking towards their Arithmancy classroom. “You won’t be surprised that I don’t trust you, Black.”

“Why not?”

“Well, to start, you’re you. And secondly, knitting isn’t exactly… I don’t know any men who knit. Aren’t you afraid of what people will say?”

“I don’t care a whit about what people think. And I don’t know any other witches that knit the muggle way, either, so I could ask you the same question.” She didn’t have a retort for this. “If you help me, I’ll… uh…”

“You’ll get James to quit submitting op eds to the Hippogriff?”

“Yes! Exactly. Never again will you or any other Hogwarts student have to read about your unmatched beauty in the school newspaper.”

Now this was worth something. Gloves would be too advanced, but Black was smart and could certainly manage a hat without too much energy on her part. “Okay, it’s a deal.”

He took to knitting more quickly than she expected, and Lily almost felt bad for underestimating him. Their first practice session had gone rather well. He followed her instructions patiently, at first, and then experimented wildly, producing a very strange and uneven little knitted square that he studied like it was the Rosetta stone. He acted so pleasant and grateful for her help. Lily found herself wondering if Potter, too, could act so differently - so nicely - when there wasn’t an audience around. But then again, there was something that felt strange about it. She wouldn’t call Sirius Black a friend, by any stretch, but she’d know him long enough to know that something was up.

The following Saturday, Sirius arrived at the library earlier than they had agreed, with two hanks of a cheerful yellow yarn carefully wrapped in a cotton handkerchief in his bookbag. Lily watched his movements carefully until he got to the third round. Then, she decided to get some answers.

“So who’s the hat for?”

He paused and adjusted the yarn in his left hand. “I can’t knit a hat for myself?”

“There’s no way that’s for you.”

“How would you know?”

Lily cleared her throat. “Well, yellow isn’t really your color, and I know you know that.” She waited, watching, but his hair had fallen over his eyes as he looked down at his project and she couldn’t gauge his reaction. 

“And you wouldn’t let me measure you when we talked about sizing; somehow you already had that in mind. And we’re in the library, in the divination section of all places, so I think you don’t want anyone to see you working on this. This is some kind of secret present, isn’t it? So who’s it for?”

“Well done, Evans, maybe you should’ve been in Ravenclaw.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, tell me. Why are you so nervous about it? You don’t get nervous about things.”

He carefully set down the needles on the table in front of him. She sat up straighter, feeling a little small as his eyes scanned hers. He is nervous, she thought, wondering what it was that he was looking for in her expression. A witty insult might throw him off a little and keep it light. But it was clear to Lily that he had something to say. Something to tell her. Something that might make him feel better - not that she cared, but it was the right thing to do, to let him speak. 

“I want to make something for Remus. I want… I want to give him something he’ll like.” Lily hoped her eyes weren’t getting wide as his voice faded out quietly. “I want to make it myself, so that it’s just from me, and just for him.” 

Sirius didn’t say anything else; he waited, looking, his eyes moving back and forth as he watched her face for some kind of reaction, acknowledgement, anything.

“Well,” Lily said, looking down at the hank she was winding. “Remus looks really nice in yellow.”

This, apparently, was the answer he’d hoped for. With a smile, he said, “I’ve noticed.”

The finished hat was, Lily had to admit, something to be proud of. Sirius had experimented on some leftover yarn and figured out a waterproofing charm didn’t mat the wool too much. He gave her a hug before she left for the train home; it was unexpected, coming from Black, but started her Christmas holiday on a happy note. It was clear when she came back from break that her first foray into teaching had been successful.  Remus really did look nice in yellow, and he looked nice holding hands with Sirius, too.

[fireproofkings]

The making of a sweater series

Part 1 || Part 2

Two things before we start: First, this is a long one and it has a few photos so buckle up if you’re reading. And second, I apologize in advance for the state of my nails in any of the pics, I know they are incredibly awful, but I promise I’ll do them tomorrow.

If you know me, you know I am the worst at keeping up with things, and if not, the fact that I have 7k drafts can give you a pretty good idea.

Last Saturday (July 11th) I went out and bought everything just as I expected, but while I was out shopping, Louis decided to attack us.

That’s one of those things you will always remember what you were doing the moment the news hit. I was buying all the supplies to make Harry’s sweater when Louis announced he was finally free.

My phone was blowing up, and when I went to check why, all of my group chats were screaming, and the lovely Ed (@literlarryreal) was sending me long voice notes telling me all the thoughts she has and let me tell you, it was a ride.

Yes, I cried in public and no, I am not ashamed to say it was not the first time I have done so with something Louis related.

Anyways, getting back on track, I spent way more than I was expecting to, but it’s alright lol. I am confident it’s all going to be worth it.

Under the cut you can find a summary on everything that happened this week with the process, and more pictures of Jack, my dog.

Here’s everything I bought that day. The quantities are exactly what is in the pattern in JW Anderson’s website (plus an extra colour I bought but then found a better match for, which I might use if I run out of any colour). I did end up finding everything, but I had to go to a few different stores to do it. There’s kind of a shortage due to the current situation and the fact that these aren’t essential goods.

I wanted to start that same Saturday, but I decided to finish that scarf I was making before, just so I wouldn’t have to go through all the trouble of changing needles and storing it away where it would probably get messed up, so I finished it and here’s a photo of it:

I ended up doing an infinity scarf, and have some yarn leftover, maybe I’ll do a hat or something like that in the future. Yes, those are my PJ’s don’t judge me.

Then I procrastinated starting the actual sweater for all of Sunday and Monday (12th and 13th). That’s something I tend to do, if you haven’t noticed.

One thing I hadn’t thought of as particularly hard, ended up being something out of my nightmares (I also tend to over exaggerate, if you’re reading this, you’re really getting to know me lol).

That green square is incredibly awful.

The pattern itself isn’t that difficult, but if you have to undo some lines it completely falls apart and you have to start over. This happened to me like three times the first time I attempted it.

Usually it takes me half an hour to 45 minutes to do one square, this one took literally two hours and a half. But it was so much easier and quicker the second time around. Putting in a lifeline and doing tallies in a notepad every time I finished a line helped a lot.

Jack did end up making it better. Even if him laying directly on top of it made it difficult to work.

On the other hand, the black and red jacquard squares were something that had me slightly worried. The technique is kinda confusing and is very easy to mess up if you are not paying attention.

The first few lines I did wrong, but then I learned how to do it properly and while the handling of the multiple strands of yarn is difficult, you get the hang of it pretty quickly.

But then, horror struck.

I realised that for some reason I was doing the squares 12cm long and not 14cm like they are supposed to be. So that panel was going to end up being 6cm shorter than the others in total, which doesn’t seem like much but was definitely going to show.

Here you can see the mess. I had to undo basically two whole squares, since the first one was 14cm (I really don’t know what was going on in my brain) and the second one, which was a jacquard pattern one, could be continued, but those two squares cost me about a whole day of work.

I was so frustrated I decided to stop for the day and take a long hot shower.

I came back to it the next day and Jack made it all better (can you sense a pattern -no pun intended- here?).

So, to wrap it up:

They are lined up in the way they go in the completed sweater. The little notes on top help me keep track of which one is each of them. The numbers in blue show the order in which they were done.

The first one was pretty easy except for the green square I talked about before, I started that one on Tuesday (14th) and finished on Wednesday (15th). That same day I started the second one which I finished early on Thursday (16th), it was really uneventful which I appreciated a lot, apart from my pointer finger hurting from pushing the needle, so I decided to invent some kind of protection with tape and silicone, which failed extremely, because it rides up and falls off.

Here you can see my failed attempt at some kind of protection for my pointer finger. I basically need a thimble, but I can’t find one online.

Maybe the uneventfulness of panel number two was to make up for the absolute nightmare that was the third panel that I had started that same day, the one I talked about being 6cm too short. It threw me off the loop for the rest of the day, which meant I only finished it late on Friday (17th) and by then I was too tired to do anything else.

Yesterday, on Saturday (18th) I started the fourth one, but I didn’t have the energy to work that much, and today, Sunday (19th), I haven’t done much more than a couple of rows.

By this point I have 3 completed back centre panels and another one 3/4 of the way done. I just have that 1/4 and the two side panels (that include shoulder shaping) left to finish the back, and then I have the front, sleeves, cuffs, collar, ribs, and button band to finish the knitting. Then it’s all ready to sew together.

Just as I did with last post, I want to close this off with some pointers for what is coming, just to keep myself on track and look back to later:

This week I want to finish the back and leave it all ready for sewing when I’m done with the rest of the knitting.

I have to write for a fic exchange I wish I had started earlier but I’m still confident on the time I have left, so that will be my priority, and not knitting.

I start classes again on August 3rd and I hope to be finished by then (with both the sweater and the fic lol), I am kinda confident I will be able to do it since I’m kind of 1/3 of the way through, so if I keep the same pace, or an even better one, I’ll be able to make it.

Something I’m not looking forward to is doing the shoulder shaping, I have no idea how to.

I have been worried the yarn I bought isn’t going to be enough (it might be just my anxiety talking), but I think it’s going to be okay since I am nearly 1/3 of the way through on the squares with one of the colours, but I haven’t gone through that amount of yarn yet.

I have made the executive decision to not do the tassels with the left over yarn and to sew the panels and ribbing together right sides together (so the seams will be on the inside) to give it a more polished look, but this might change in the future.

I’m starting to see it take shape, even if only the back, and I’m really excited!!!

If you want to see the other posts in these series go to the top where the other parts are linked or go to the tag here.

[onegirlatelier]

Enzyme Kinetics Socks, October 2019

A lot of things have happened since I last posted, most of them related to my start at university. After a productive but rather self-directed gap year, the sudden increase in workload was a bit of a shock to the system. With the academic pressure came the confusion about how to manage the ‘making’ side of my life. I have always considered sewing and knitting as the greatest passion of my life but never a career choice, so for a good while I had managed to keep academic work and dressmaking apart. However, one week after I started uni, the depth of knowledge I was required to ‘master’ (as worded in my course handbook) disrupted the uneasy balance. The doubts came back and I wondered again whether I had just made the huge mistake of choosing medicine over dressmaking.

The trigger? Enzymes. Our lecturer prepared a 54-slide handout and squeezed the entire topic into a one-hour lecture, and I lost track after the first five minutes. The panic level spiked like the oxygen affinity curve on haemoglobin cooperativity diagram.

We only get set essays on very specific topics and have plenty of time to look at them, so plenty of time to procrastinate. I was so scared I didn’t touch the subject for a whole week.

Then at some point I decided that no. I need to stop being scared. It wasn’t the actual difficulty of enzyme kinetics, but the worry inside me, that was stopping me from learning what I was here to learn.

So I had a good night’s sleep, got up, kept myself in my room an entire afternoon and then an entire evening, and the next day I found myself using the Michaelis-Menten equation just as how I expected to.

Next Saturday, I was sitting in a college seminar room and knitting the second of what happened to be my first pair of hand-knitted socks. There were mistakes but nothing too serious, and they ended up perfectly wearable.

I don’t want to use the word ‘equilibrium’ because that means the completion of the reaction…So here’s to instability!

Yarn

West Yorkshire Spinners ColourLab DK, 100% British wool, 4ply, 225m/100g.

Colour way: Summer Pinks. The colours are displayed fairly well in pictures here.

I don’t have a scale with me, so I have no idea how much yarn I have used—but I feel that a third sock or a hairband should be no problem.

(Update: my socks weigh 34~35g each, so 70g in total. Leftover yarn weighs 29g.)

Pro: A very standard self-striping yarn in good quality. 100% wool but still machine-washable, which is good for socks. The thickness is consistent with a tight ply. It doesn’t smell particularly woolly, but there’s no eek smell of chemicals either. WYS is involved in The Campaign For Wool.

Con: The yarn is more on the rustic side, so it’s a bit prickly, though I personally find it just fine. (I’m talking about it in the Wear & Tear section below.) There’s no information on their website specifying the wool-processing method. I have to assume some sort of not-so-environmentally friendly method is used.

  Pattern

So Simple Sport Socks by Glenna C. The pattern is very simple but it is written for three-needle knitting method only. I had to convert it into a pattern for magic loop method. It’s a free pattern, but there is an awful lot of mistakes. I am the oddball who knits her first pair of socks after quite a few large and complex projects, so it wasn’t too difficult to decipher the pattern, but I wouldn’t recommend it to beginners.

  Needle

I used a 2.75cm circular needle. My gauge: 25sts per 10cm.

  Modification

As with almost all my projects, I changed the stitch count instead of trying to get the same gauge as instructed in the pattern.

I casted on 53 stitches and improvised from there. For the slip stitch heel, I had 27sts for top of the foot and 26sts for the heel flap. Then I increased to 28sts on the first row of heel flap for more space because sometimes I put a tiny pad on my Achilles tendon as a cushion, or a plaster if I already had a blister.

After I turned the heel, 17sts remained on the heel flap. I picked up 14sts on each side of the heel flap and made one extra stitch between heel flap and top of the foot. So when I joined top of the foot and the heel, the stitch count for the round was 74.

When decreasing after making the heel, I was supposed to decrease two sts every other round. But my brain was dead when I knitted this section of my first sock and I decreased every round instead. It was a much steeper decrease and I managed to decrease to 52 sts in 11 rounds instead of 22. An entire 11 rounds missing! I know it made the foot arch tighter than it should be, but after trying it on my foot, it didn’t seem to mind so I went on and replicated the mistake in the other sock!

I did 3*1 ribbing on the entire medial half of the sock instead of just the top of the foot, so that it sat snugly against my arch.

When decreasing for toe part, I did asymmetric toes shaping. Instead of decreasing four sts every other round, I decreased six sts on the lateral part for every two sts on the medial part. Another mistake: I continued the ribbing pattern for a few rows after starting to decrease for toes. It made the toe part stretchier, which was nice, but aesthetically I would prefer to stop the ribbing as I start the toe decreases.

I used three-needle bind off to finish the last 20 sts.

Wear & Tear

So far, I’ve only wore these socks for one day. I visited a museum, did some shopping, and went to a restaurant for dinner. The socks were scratchy in the first few moments, as experienced by many knitters who worked with this yarn, but then my feet got used to them and were all comfy and warm. Thanks to dancing my feet are sensitive to touch but not to pain or other unpleasant feelings, which is great for me as a sock knitter.

I can see clear signs of wear on the heels and toes, but I suppose that’s to be expected and it couldn’t get much worse. I work my feet a lot even during everyday activities (even when I’m sitting, yes), so that might contribute to the wear after only one day. Somehow the way I walk or my feet are shaped put a lot of rubbing on the Achilles tendon part of my feet, so I’m hoping that the slip stitches hold well. I’m happy to mend my socks if needed.

  Further considerations

As mentioned, I missed an entire 11 rows when decreasing for the arch, but my feet don’t seem to sense any discomfort because of this. The ribbing pattern is stretched a bit more on the arch then on the other parts, though. Still, I am curious to see what would happen if I indeed follow the pattern.

I had never worn 100% wool socks before—it was always cotton ones or store-bought wool and polyamide combination. But now that I have, there is no doubt which fibre I prefer! Wool keeps my feet warm without the cold sweat. I have a number of other projects planned at the moment, but every day the English weather nudges me to knit more socks.

[aelin-and-feyre]

The Five Stages of Drunk Aelin

Holiday Fic Collection #1 - Rowaelin College au (Let me know if you would like to be tagged in this collection)

Requested by Anonymous: 26 “Ok, I think you’ve had a little too much wine.”

“Can I see your ID please, miss?” The clerk behind the counter eyes the half dozen bottles of wine before him as Aelin riffles through her cluttered purse in search of her elusive license. She finally fishes it out and hands it to him resolutely, much more confident in her legal, newly printed ID than she had been only a year ago with her fake one. The clerk glances at the card then hands it back and begins to ring her up. “Big party?”

Aelin hesitates a moment, wondering whether or not to tell the truth. “Yeah, a ton of my friends are coming over to celebrate the holiday,” she lies smoothly as she runs her credit card through and the six bottles of wine are placed in bags. “They all like different kinds of liquor and can never compromise.”

The clerk nods absently and Aelin knows he really wouldn’t have cared either way, she could have told him the truth and he would have accepted it just as readily, although he might have thrown one or two odd looks her way as she left.

In all actuality, all six bottles were for only two people—herself, and her best friend, Rowan. The two of them are planning on getting completely drunk tonight on the fanciest wine available for the third Christmas Eve in a row.

Aelin grabs her bags and nods to the clerk. He wishes her a fun party and happy holiday as she exits and then Aelin walks out into the freezing December air. She nudges her nose under the heap of yarn that is her hand knit scarf and bunches her hands tightly in the paper bags she’s holding as she hurries the three blocks back to her apartment.

The blistering cold burns her cheeks but Aelin doesn’t dare run as ice this time of year can be easy to miss and she would rather not have a twisted ankle and make Rowan carry her up the three floors to her apartment. Although, on second thought, perhaps that’s exactly what she wants.

To say Aelin is infatuated with her best friend would be an understatement. They met three years ago at orientation and were enemies from the start. He was her tutor in Law and Society freshman year and was her own personal version of hell on earth.

The first year they spent Christmas Eve together was an accident. He had only been tutoring her for a few months but with finals coming up they were studying together late that night—Rowan took his job as tutor very seriously, even if he didn’t particularly like his pupil. He was supposed to leave before it got too late but the power ended up going out. With everyone out of the dorms for the holidays, Aelin’s room was one of the only occupied and though she wasn’t scared, she didn’t really feel like staying the whole night alone in a practically abandoned, dark, and increasingly cold dorm house.

Rowan invited her to crash on his couch for the night and she accepted. Turns out neither of them had Christmas plans and when Rowan pulled out a few hidden bottles of Merlot, the night had gotten exponentially better. That night had been the first time Aelin had seen Rowan smile and ever since she has been teetering on the edge of love.

As time went on throughout freshman year and Rowan loosened up, she actually found him a quite enjoyable person to hang out with. It was only when they started going to the same gym and worked out together everyday that they actually became friends. 

Now, with them both in the middle of junior year and better friends than ever, Aelin finds herself wishing more and more that they could be something more.

She finally makes it to her door and quickly buzzes in, relishing the blast of warm air on her frozen face and hands. She sprints up the stairs—almost dropping one of the bags in the process—and tries to one handedly unlock her apartment. Her arms are aching with the weight of the wine bottles and she can’t get the key to go into the slot with her thawing fingers.

The bottle of Merlot—the most important bottle in the batch because of what it signifies—begins to teeter over the damp, ripping edge of the bag. Aelin sees it happen but can’t move quick enough to catch it as it slips and practically falls in slow motion toward the floor.

Rowan catches it just before it can touch the hard wood and Aelin lets out a sigh of relief. “Clumsy,” Rowan chastises as he puts the bottle back in it’s rightful spot and takes half her load so she can finally fit the key in the lock.

“Thanks, you just saved the night,” Aelin laughs as she pushes the door open and deposits her remaining bag on the counter, Rowan following.

She shucks off her coat to hang up and decides to keep her scarf on for a bit as she warms up. She smooths her frizzy hair back into a somewhat presentable arrangement, it’s only Rowan, after all... just Rowan... who she just happens to be hopelessly in love with.

He hangs up his own coat and then turns to her with open arms, a small, rare, genuine smile on his face. She practically falls into his chest and his strong arms wrap around her shoulders tightly. “Merry Christmas Eve, Fireheart,” Rowan says softly while resting his cold, pink cheek on top of her head.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Buzzard,” Aelin murmurs into his chest, partially muffled by his wool sweater that fits very nicely over his toned torso. She loosens her grip on him, assuming the hug has reached it’s acceptable time limit, but his arms do not loosen and Aelin is surprised. It has been a long time since Rowan has been cold and rude to her, but any affection on his part has always been restrained, timed, careful. “You’re just using me for warmth, aren’t you?”

She hears Rowan grunt against her hair. “Maybe.”

Aelin laughs and pushes him away—perhaps not as swiftly as she could have, her hands lingering on his chest—then walks towards the kitchen where leftover containers from their last three late night study sessions awaits. Although he is no longer required to, Rowan still makes a fantastic tutor and study partner, especially during finals week.

Rowan walks in behind her and pulls two wine glasses from the cabinet. He studies the label on each of the bottles while Aelin serves two a plate to heat up. It feels very domestic and Aelin’s stomach is already turning from that extra-long hug.

He finally settles on a liquor that suits him and pours them both a glass—the first of many over the course of the night. When the food is heated, Aelin hands him his plate. “Christmas Eve feast,” she declares with a grim smile.

Aelin doesn’t have a family to go home to over Christmas, she and her cousin, Aedion, get together every year but that is about it. Rowan has a family but never feels particularly inclined to go home and deal with all the drama and politics that comes along with it. Neither of them has had a proper Christmas meal in years.

Still, Rowan takes the paper plate piled with fried rice, pizza, and fried chicken like it is the best meal that has ever been prepared for him. “Looks absolutely delicious, Aelin, thank you.” He says, his green eyes sincere. Rowan hands her the wine glass and begins walking towards the main room. Aelin follows with a small smile on her face.

They settle into the couch and Rowan raises his wine glass for a  toast. "To another Christmas of drunk fun, and to another year of being friends with the best girl I know."

Aelin can't help her blush as she raises her glass to his and takes the first sip. Rowan is too cold and has too many walls to be a player, but he knows how to make a girl feel special—yet another thing Aelin loves about him. Shaking her head slightly to clear her mind, Aelin fetches the green fuzzy blanket from the back of the couch—something Rowan had gifted her last Christmas and she has cherished ever since, partly because it reminds her of his eyes—and drapes it over the both of them.

She reaches for the remote and flips on the tv. "We have a long night ahead of us," she reminds and her heart skips a beat at the excited anticipation in Rowan's eyes, "Which cheesy Christmas movie should we start with first?"

...

Rowan doesn't usually drink, at least, not a lot. He'll have a beer or two at parties or with his friends, but rarely does he ever consume more alcohol than would prohibit him to drive. He likes to be alert at all times, aware of his surroundings and always anticipating what will happen next. Alcohol messes that up, as well as his brain, which is very important to him and his family as it gives them bragging rights about his achievements in school. Thus, as a rule, Rowan does not drink a lot. However, one night a year, there is an exception to that rule, and it's mostly because of who that one night is spent with. 

Aelin has been starring in his dreams since he was a freshman when they were paired up during orientation. He had hated her—her obstinance and snark and sneers—and he was forced to be her tutor. Then, when they spent their first Christmas Eve together all those years ago, he had woken up before her, head pounding from drinking more than he ever had, and she was sleeping peacefully on the couch. She wasn't glaring at him or flipping him off or insulting him with that colorful mouth of hers, and Rowan began to feel a part of his frozen heart begin to thaw. 

He'd spent the last two years trying to not to fall in love with her and hopelessly failing. Aelin is everything he wants and he has no desire to be with anyone but her on Christmas for the rest of his life. 

"I'm in love with you."

Now, four bottles into the night, Rowan is feeling lightheaded, but not only because of the alcohol. Aelin sits across from him on the couch, her scarf and sweater long gone, leaving her in just a tank-top, her legs intertwined with his beneath the blanket, and her eyes blazing with drunken heat as she stares down the fifth bottle like it's her enemy. Rowan is somehow shirtless and his addled brain can barely comprehend how they got here. 

From the years they've been friends, Rowan has learned that Aelin has four stages of drunkenness. 

During the first stage Aelin becomes obscenely competitive. 

In the last 6 hours, they watched three movies, each one more cliche than the last. They had polished off one bottle of red wine during the first one, laughing and joking and making fun of the plot as they easily fell into their familiar pattern. Neither of them were feeling very tipsy at that point so Aelin decided to make it interesting. She challenged him to a race. 

Even when Rowan is completely sober, he can almost never resist a challenge. The rules were simple: each picked a bottle from the repertoire and whoever finished it first, won. Unfortunately, Rowan is not nearly as skilled as Aelin at drinking so much liquor at one time. He had barely finished half of his bottle by the time she was done. 

Aelin's second stage of inebriation is when she gets super energized.

Immediately following finishing her bottle and realizing she won, Aelin decided to do a victory lap, running around the apartment whooping and cheering and shoving it in his face with all those colorful words of hers. Rowan just smiled as he watched her and laughed when she finally plopped herself back down, sweating, and proceeded to strip her scarf from her neck. Rowan's smile vanished when her sweater followed, promptly landing in a pile on the ground.

Rowan gulped and remembered Aelin's third stage of drunkenness: overheating and shedding layers. Aelin was already too engrossed in the second movie to notice Rowan's attitude change. 

He knew he was being ridiculous, he'd seen Aelin in her swimsuit and had gotten glimpses of her in even less over the years they'd been friends, but something about tonight felt different. Rowan had finished the rest of his bottle of wine during the second movie, trying to ignore how hard it was not to look at her. 

Aelin's fourth stage—and the last Rowan had ever seen—is despair.

The last movie had made Aelin start sobbing hysterically for basically no reason Rowan could discern. Still, he took pity on her and opened his arms. She crawled right over and cried her heart out into his chest. Rowan sat there and held her for what could have been minutes, could have been hours, he's not completely sure. He held her and stroked her back and let her soak his own sweater for as long as she needed to. He couldn't remember the last time he was so comfortable with a girl—or anyone for that matter. 

When Aelin's tears were reduced to hiccups, Rowan helped her dry her tears, and then promptly had to make her stop feeling guilty for making his wool sweater all wet. She insisted that he take it off, and truly, Rowan was helpless as she all but pulled it over his head herself. She spent fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to fix it and keep it from shrinking. Rowan is pretty sure that the sweater might have been salvageable before she started messing with it, but definitely not after. 

So now, with another wine bottle down their throats and Aelin's hands on the Merlot—their signature wine—Rowan can't help but think he misheard her. "Pardon me?" 

"I'm in love with you," Aelin repeats, her hand on the corkscrew as she slowly turns it, all her attention focused on the task. 

Rowan blinks. "Ok, I think you’ve had a little too much wine.”

Aelin's hands fall away from the bottle as she seems to ponder his words for a moment. "Perhaps, but that doesn't make my words any less valid," Rowan realizes that Aelin has now moved past stage four, and he has no experience with this kind of drunken Aelin. "I'm in love with you, and I have been for way too long to hide it anymore." 

Rowan has a feeling that stage five is confession. 

He can't believe what he's hearing, and he's pretty sure it's just the wine talking, which makes his heart clench all the more painfully. Sighing heavily, Rowan reigns in his hard earned self-control and reaches for the remote to turn off the movie. "I think it's time we go to bed for the night Aelin. We can talk about this in the morning if you still want to." His head is already pounding in time with his racing heart and Rowan doesn't think he can listen to any more of Aelin's confessions without waking up with a broken heart as well as a hangover tomorrow morning. 

Aelin glares at him for a few seconds and he can see the wheels turning in her head, the words she's putting in the right order, much slower in her addled mind than usual but Rowan just squeezes his eyes shut to stop any of his own words from escaping—words he knows both of them will regret. Finally, Aelin grabs a pen from the table and scribbles something on her hand. 

"Fine," she shoves her hand in his face and Rowan has to lean back to read it. 'you love Rowan, tell him' is written in a much sloppier version of her usual script. "When I wake up, I'll read this and remember and when I'm sober, you'll believe me, right?"

"Sure," Rowan replies, losing steam as his brain works overload. He might fall asleep before he gets her to bed, although sleeping is the last thing he wants to do right now, because he knows exactly what his dreams will be about. He untangles their legs to stand, missing the heat of her body and the feeling of her skin against his. He scoops her up in his arms and the bottle of Merlot, still halfway corked, falls off her lap and onto the couch. 

Aelin rests her head against his chest as he carries her to her bedroom. "I wish you were shirtless more often," she admits, her fingers tracing the lines of his tattoo. Rowan can't help but chuckle, although he doesn't trust himself to reply. "I know you like me back... at least I think I do," Aelin continues with a yawn. Rowan's control is slipping, just a few more steps and he can slip her under the covers and head back to the couch to sleep. "If I tell you that I love you tomorrow, do you promise to say it back?" 

Rowan's voice is hoarse when he finally says, "I promise."

Aelin's responding smile practically stops his heart. "Good, and I'll promise you something as well," He lays her down on the bed and covers her with the blanket. She grabs his hand before he can escape and with the last of her energy, pulls him down onto the small bed next to her. His self restraint is all but gone, his mind already slipping into unconsciousness as she tucks the blanket around him and nuzzles into his arms. "I promise that I will tell you in the morning, and I promise that we'll drink that bottle of Merlot." 

Rowan is fading fast, he barely computes her words. He feels her soft lips against his shoulder, where a scar lays from a long time ago, from another life. "Merry Christmas, Buzzard, I love you."

"I love you too, Fireheart."

Holiday Collection Prompt List

Holiday Masterlist

[campionsayn1]

Ok This can bê undone ser with the twins and Kitty. The list unique au with haunt mansion that turn into a bookshop and the ghost give book recommendation.

Here is a house that was once quite the foreboding piece of architecture that brought to mind the early 1900′s with hundreds of hands tending it, inside and outside. Servants, footmen, the proprietors, the line lines of blood that followed children upon more and more children.In this case, the last of those children dwindled, and most assuredly could not afford to keep the estate; selling it off for a fair enough price and then taking leave as the new owner received key and title to the long empty halls and the furniture, decorations and books left behind.Here is the point where the estate had been brought to a glowing flourish of cleanliness; unneeded furniture put away into the attic, shelves of leftover books brought up to the front near the foyer that lead further into what was once the dining room and ballroom that had been turned about to accommodate more and more shelves with more and more books; the sun from the skylight windows not horrible and damaging to the newer books with price tags placed to the backs of their covers. The kitchen had been partly converted into a coffee bar, managed by two men hired out for the new costumers that would come for reading, stay for the drink, enjoy this new that had arisen from the old.Basically only a third of the estate remained just that; a housing area for the new owner that had opened a bookshop throughout the other two-thirds.Still, Kitty Pryde, Miss, had a bit of a re-occurring problem that her patrons kept complaining about. She didn’t mind, being of sound body and ability with a cleverness to match in stride; but others will complain as they will.The patrons mentioned ghosts–two very tall with oddly angled legs and even more questionable clothing, and a half-dozen much smaller (even compared to children) with what seemed to be tails–but Kitty was in mind to disagree.Ghosts don’t smell. And it’s a lot less likely still when food and drink kept going missing.“I wouldn’t have expected demons, but the books were actually rather specific,” she stated absently; finally catching up to one of the taller ones.Said taller one was in the process of moving all of her Eroll Flynn books from the shelves for what had to have been the fifth time that month, looking over at her with scandal and apology lining his face in turn. It didn’t seem that he could dare to grasp the idea of a human chastising him instead of fleeing with loud shrieks while calling for help.And here Kitty stood, her coffee in hand, and the other hand to her cocked hip. For all the world looking like an exasperated school teacher an hour before school was out.Made sense, considering the demon by the name of Wagner, Kurt, had allowed his twin Darkholme, Kurt (demons were not known for being individual thinkers, despite their own parents being of the higher tiers of Hell), to chase off the cafe keepers, Evan and Quentin, for the night. Knowing the much darker twin, he’d probably knocked over the vase of lavender at the desk in the rush and made Kitty a bit more cranky, rather than terrified.Despite himself, after this introduction by far outside the norm of what they were used to–the twins as well as the demi-demon Bamfs that caused far more minor chaos for the estate–warming up to the idea of a previous residence of a cult being turned into a shop of learning and enjoyment became much easier to live with.Under normal circumstance, the demons would have left. But Kitty actually FED them, so she must have known that they couldn’t technically leave until after she’d given permission.Which, for reasons Darkholme reasoned was for the sake of unpaid labor, was not forthcoming in the least. “You kind of all owe me for running off my customers, don’t you think? Might as well make yourselves useful.”“How’s that, little kitten?” Darkholme questioned the first week being unable to leave, a sneer across his mouth and the Bamfs hanging from the chandelier Kitty had fitted with electric lights; Wagner sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs the estate’s previous owner had left behind and peeking out from behind a book revolving around Victorian romance triangles.Kitty smiled with cheek and primness, picking up a lofty set of books and handing them over to Darkholme–where they belonged, all things considered, since he’d pilfered and hidden all of them in places where they certainly did not belong, “You can start by putting these back where they’re supposed to be. Fiction section, under Horror, as you already know. And you,” Kitty turned to Wagner, rifling through the front desk for a moment and then placing a pen and notebook paper in his lap, “Can write up some recommendations for the patrons regarding the much older collection so I can, with luck, actually get rid of them by the turn of the next century.”As an afterthought, Kitty looked up at the Bamfs and pointed directly at them, smiling when a couple squeaked and tried to hid behind the light fixtures, “And you lot can come and get me when these two are done! Dinner for everyone when all’s finished and I’ll take you to a set of rooms you can stay in until I decide you’ve paid me back enough.”Here is the turning point. They were fed. They were given money to order clothing off of Kitty’s laptop when it became obvious their scraps of cloth taken from the corpses of those that went to Hell simply weren’t cutting it. They were under the impression that they could sleep in the better part of the estate when they actually could or wanted to.Here is when Wagner started flirting, his romantic attempts adjacent to his brother’s. The books he’d read being left open where Kitty could find them, edge of the pages bent and pointing to a sentence or a paragraph that spoke their fellow feeling as clearly as possible for Kitty to make an attempt at understanding.Here is where Darkholme finally found times where he felt inclined to fall asleep wherever he might find a seat and then wake up up the bed he’d been given; at times with Kitty laying down right beside him to be sure he stayed asleep and didn’t wake upon again from her aura calming his demonic nature and his flashbacks from worse times in Hell; at times his twin would be on Kitty’s other side, the Bamfs seated like balls of breathing yarn along their long forms, pinning the covers to keep them all at rest. Here is where it became plain, when Kitty said that they were free to stay if they wanted; her morning wear a simple white shirt far too big for her, her hair frizzled from sleep, her eyes bright with the reality of the situation: inviting them to stay was the same thing as allowing them free-will to leave.Here is where the twins settled into a joint romance with a book keeper and their little followers settled into having a life that wasn’t boring all the time from one dimensional shift to another.