#i have enough of this yarn to make at least two more pairs with the contrast heel/toe

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

2 day socks! Turns out I don't hate knitting socks, I hate knitting socks using fingering weight yarn. These worsted weight socks were pretty fun and easy, other than casting off entirely too tightly. I always forget I have to do the ugliest cast off known to man to get them stretchy enough to fit over my heel, but it's worth never having to do any math for getting them to fit.

[s1ater]

the only thing that matters.

pairings. finnick odair x fem!reader

about. finnick is the only one to have ever gotten past your quiet and stoic shell, but neither of you think it’s for the good.

warnings. eh idk

ricky rocks. the hunger games series is honest to god one of the best to ever touch screens.

johanna hated watching you and finnick. it killed her.

since day one, johanna, like all of the others were closely fixated on you and every move you made. you were alluring solely due to the fact that you were silent and completely detached from the destruction of your reality. there was a large admiration for you and whether it was due to your great skill in combat or ability to keep an unwavering face when under the worse of pressure, no one could choose. you were a mystery.

johanna couldn’t figure you out; not for the life of her, and it was absolutely frustrating. especially when her greatest competition did.

of course. of fucking course it was finnick. she wasn’t surprised the more she thought about it—finnick could get anybody to talk. so of course it had to be him who would unravel you like a ball of yarn.

he was prying, and had no problem with being a pest if that meant he got what he wanted—and he always got what he wanted.

it was astounding to say the least.

“they’re sickening aren’t they?” katniss almost jumped at johanna’s jarring words that interrupted the silence.

it took her a moment to realize that the girl was talking about you and finnick and johanna had caught her staring.

“i don’t know… i think it’s interesting,” katniss bit the inside of her cheek as she watched finnick smile genuinely while watching you speak. the two of you were the only thing keeping the group from not seeming depressive. “they seem like polar opposites and yet this is the first time i have ever seen her smile… and it’s because of him.”

once you had gotten out of the blood rain with johanna, crossing paths with katniss and finnick and the rest of their group—you had begun to clean yourself off in the water before finnick had dunked you with reunition. there was no reason, and katniss had thought you would kill him once you came back up, but there you had been; gut laughing, trying to catch your breath while also attempting to return the favor.

johanna chuckles, “he’s a fucking dickhead for that,” she tsks, shaking her head, still watching the two of you, “but i guess it’s sweet in some fucked up way. both found each other amidst of all… this.”

she hated watching the two of you, because it reminded her of something she couldn’t have, something she lost, and something the two of you could so fastly lose as well with any wrong step.

“this is where we finally die, isn’t it?” your eyes watch the calm waves as they slowly wash up further onto the shore, just enough to kiss your feet.

your words make finnick narrow his brows, almost frowning real hard as he looks over to you. you feel distant, out of body and too far for him to reach and yet you were more than close. he feels uneasy at the tone of your voice, like you were almost ready to give up.

“far from it…” he slightly tips his head to look at your face, but he sees nothing, receives nothing despite his hope that you’d be in touch and full of emotion like all other times the two of you have been together. “hey, why?”

his hand holds your shoulder, almost reaching for your face, but you meet his eyes before he could further do so. the concern melted into his face made you inhale sharply, feeling slightly bad for causing the borderline stress in his eyes, “finn, i didn’t mean it… like that.”

“you ready to give up on me?” his eyebrows raise, trying to curve his lips in a accustomed smirk, but you can still see the worry.

“not yet,” you shook your head, almost scoffing as you look back out to the sun sinking into the trees, “just thinking.”

“think more logically, y/n,” he settles more comfortably and over the panic, using his index finger to lightly you tap on the side of your cheekbone. “if i die, who’s going to be your friend? keep you alive?”

you rolled your eyes, mumbling, “we both know i’m more than capable keeping myself alive.”

“we do,” it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “but outside of the games, what’re you going to do with yourself?”

you shook your head at his silly scenarios, now looking to him with something he didn’t like, “we just try to die together then.”

“she’s the only thing he cares about,” johanna stares harder than katniss was, watching the way his hand clasps the back of your neck while pulling you closer to him. “truly.”

“this is unlike you. since when is death a concern to you?”

“since i met you,” you purse your lips, almost in shame that an obvious dent was made in your principles when you met finnick. “you make me feel so helpless.”

he chuckles, shaking his head at the words coming from your mouth that some could find offense in, “oh, i know you love me.” but it was finnick, and he knew your meaning behind them and he knew exactly how you felt.

before, you were both considered some of the capitols top killers with nothing to lose. but now, everything seemed to not be in your favor the moment you met each other. you had everything to lose now and you both knew it.

“we’ll be the death of each other, y/n.”

navigation.

@transias @cc13723things @thehuntress09 @afidiofobia @savedbythegraceofsoutherncharm @demigirl-with-problems @nyx3028 @missaryasstuff @hizziestial @ritz-hell-hotel @kayalect @mystic-writings @stitch-flo @ancientimes @s0urw00lf @straightzoinked @i44nishi @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @lupinsluvbot

[adobe-outdesign]

For pokemon reviews, maybe the spidops or lokix lines?

(Already did the Nymble line here, but as for Tarountula:)

Tarountula is a really good Pokemon, both in terms of concept and execution. A spider that covers its abdomen with silk in a manner representative of a yarn ball works perfectly, and the design gets the point across immediately. This ball protectors them from their natural predators, which is a nice touch. Oddly enough, the yarn ball is actually removable, revealing a small structure at the end of its body that ties it more into its evo.

Visually, Tarountula's stylized eyes and almost sad-looking pupils make it extremely cute, which is compounded by its stylized pedipalps and simplistic legs (so simple it actually has eight of them, a rarity in Pokemon designs). White was an obvious choice for the silk, but this is accented by some green spots on the legs and a complimentary yellow color. Good stuff all around.

You'd expect something as round as Tarountula to evolve into an even rounder, larger spider, but it instead goes into a completely different direction by becoming an ogre spider, well known for looking like you took a jpg of a normal spider and stretched it out lengthwise. Ironically, some of Spidop's features that you would probably assume are inventions by GameFreak are actually just what ogre spiders are like, such as the paired limbs and spinning net traps to catch prey in.

While it might seem like it's lost the ball of yarn theme, it's actually just expanded on it by looking like a spool of thread. The resemblance between the two is more obvious without Tarountula's web ball, but some features remain the same, such as the green-tipped limbs, stylized pedipalps, and four pairs of eyes that wrap around the head. The black color of the eyes specifically resemble an ogre spider's comically large eyes, which are so adapted for night vision that they get destroyed by the sun each day and heal again by night. No, I am not making that part up.

In addition, Spidops also has a special ops kind of thing going for it, with a kind of bullet-proof vest on its chest, goggles, and a stealth-based operatus morandi. It would almost be too much, but it's subtle enough in the design that it thankfully doesn't feel too busy.

My only issues with Spidops are that the limbs feel weirdly flat at the ends, considering it uses them to hold web and snag prey—it might've been nice if they tapered into points, at least with the front ones. I also feel like the brown-on-green palette is muddied and bit low-contrast. Even just a lighter shade of brown/tan would've helped with this while still keeping it camouflaged.

So overall, these are some really good spiders. The sewing theme is integrated into both in two unique ways, they have distinct body types, and Spidops keeps all the best attributes of the insect its based off of and adds an extra special ops theme for good measure. Tarountula also has a bangin' shiny, which doesn't hurt anything either.

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 5

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (v) - Finnick

[17 & 18] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick sits at his desk, the end of his pencil tapping a song into the wood as he thinks. The two of you have been exchanging letters for almost a year now, but he still gets excited whenever you send a new one. Excited and nervous. Getting them mailed between districts is a slow progression involving lying to a few mayors and he's sure Snow reads each one. Still, Finnick thinks, it's worth it. In your latest letter, you explained to him how a bear snuck in from the woods, and the peacekeepers were forced to gun it down. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the mayor was "generous" enough to divide the meat among the citizens who were working. You finish with a closing of 'With love', your signature, and a shitty little drawing of a bear at the bottom with X's over its eyes. He traces it with his finger and pictures you hunched over your desk, nose scrunching in concentration as you draw it. "With love, huh?" He whispers to himself and smiles. Along with your letter, you sent a parcel full of bundled brown sticks tied together with yarn. Licorice root, you had said. Only available in the Capitol and District Eleven, best used in tea with berries. He brings it to his nose and it smells sweet, like caramelized sugar. It smells like you, but it's missing that undercurrent of earthly petrichor. He looks up when he sees Mags approaching with a knowing look in her eyes. She looks at the letter in his hands and he folds it before she can read the contents. Not that it matters. All she needed to see was the signature. It's not like she doesn't know who you are. She was so ecstatic to hear your stories, insisting he got more from you. And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right?

Right. "What's that face for?" He laughs. She takes a loose piece of paper and a pencil to write: "When's the wedding?" He opens and closes his mouth, words escaping him. "It's not like that. We're just—” Just what? You are friends, right? Finnick has friends, but none that he likes as much as you. And the way he feels with you? He doesn't feel like that around them, not by a long shot. To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond. 

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all. 

If he can't be honest with you, he can at least be honest with Mags. "—I guess it is something like that." She hums excitedly and pinches his warm cheeks. "She says she hopes you're doing well." Mags perks up at that, gesturing between herself and the blank paper. He grins at her enthusiasm, "I'll tell her you said hi. Promise." She nods and pats his hand with a smile. As she walks to sit on the couch behind him, he thinks about what to send you. He can't just send a letter. Especially after you went out of your way to send licorice roots after he offhandedly mentioned he'd like to try some. He wracks his brain but comes up empty. Other than rope, hooks, and seashells, there's nothing else he can give you. His eyes drift around the room, landing on his bare wrist.

There is something he can make you. 

Mags sits amused as he jumps up and rushes around the house to collect supplies. Technically, he doesn’t live here—she does. But this place has been more of a home to him than any other, past and present.

He grabs a spool of thin purple and blue rope, along with a few cowrie shells and little charms Mags has lying around. He sets up shop on the desk, cutting the blue rope to the length he wants it and folding it in half. He puts a shell in the middle, tying a knot on either side of it. He slides two little, silver charms on the left and right of the shell, a starfish and a turtle. He makes three basic Macrame knots with separate pieces of string. The two longest ones are slid on beside the charms and the smallest one is used as a closure.

Mags comes to stand beside him as he leans back to admire his work. 

"Do you think she'll like it?" He asks her. He wants to bite at his nails as she looks over what he made, but refrains. 

'She'll love it. :)". She writes and he hopes she’s right.

He repeats the process with the purple rope but uses a fish charm instead of a turtle and writes his letter.

Dear Star, Earlier today, I sat in the sand watching the sun rise over the ocean, and I imagined you were beside me. If I were a painter, I would capture the image for you. For now, I hope my words will suffice. The clouds shift from a dark blue to a ghostly white, parting and making way for the rising sun. The sky is a canvas of assorted colors. Navy blue, baby blue, and burnt orange chase each other in a swirl reflected across the water. As the sun climbs higher in the sky, a clear blue takes over the backdrop. Words can only take us so far. I really want to show you. Snow will only let us do so much, but maybe one day he'll let you come to Four and we can watch it together. Side by side, me and you in the sand. There's something else. I'm sure you noticed I sent you more than just the letter. There should be an intricate rope bracelet with a shell in the middle. I made us matching pairs, yours blue and mine purple—I remember you saying it's your favorite color. In hindsight, it would've made more sense to give you the bracelet with your favorite color instead of mine, but, it's kind of like having a piece of each other, you know?  The jewelry has a bit of significance, too. The starfish is obvious, but the turtle is from Mags’s story. I even found a little fish charm to put on mine. You don't have to wear it, of course. It's kind of childish in retrospect. I just hope you don't laugh at me too much. Regardless, I'll be wearing mine. I know you didn't make it, but, somehow, it makes me feel closer to you. When I glance down at it, I'm reminded that I'm not alone. That there's someone out there whose life was made at least a little bit better by my being in it. I hope it'll give you that same comfort. -Fondly yours, Finnick O. P.S. Mags says hi. She's quite taken with you. You've somehow managed to charm her without ever meeting. Not that I'm surprised. :) P.P.S. I can't wait to see you again. 

Present (V) - Finnick 

[23 & 24] - TRAINING CENTER; FOURTH FLOOR

Finnick rewinds the video and pauses. His eyes absorb your features greedily, taking you in like a man starved. And, honestly, he is. It's the first time he's seen you, outside of your picture, in two years, but it's felt like a lifetime. Initially, he watched your reaping in hopes of you proving him wrong. 

You didn't.

He can't help but find joy in the fact that he still knows you well enough to predict what you'll do. And he'll get to see you again. Really see you. He shouldn't be happy about that under these circumstances, but Finnick is under no illusion of being a good person. The camera focuses on you right as you're about to raise your hand to volunteer. He can see the conviction in your eyes and wonders why. Why did he ever think he could survive being away from you? "God, it feels like I've been watching you rewind for hours." Finnick freezes. There are five other people here, all women, and only four of them can talk. This voice is distinctly male. He looks over his shoulder and sighs. He should've guessed. "Haymitch. How did you—” He cuts himself off when he spots Mags standing a little behind him. That solves how he got in. He didn't hear him knock or notice him approaching, too focused on you to use his other senses. "Kid, I don't wanna say this is sad, but it's not, not sad." Finnick rolls his eyes at Haymitch's unwelcome opinion. Should he be embarrassed to be caught in this position? Maybe. Probably. Yeah, he definitely should be. But he gave up his shame a long time ago. He's honestly just annoyed at being interrupted.

"What do you want?" He turns back around to face you. "Why do I have to want something, huh?" Haymitch walks around the couch, Mags close behind him. "Can't I just show up to check in on you guys?" Finnick levels him with a deadpan stare. Haymitch purses his lips. "Alright, I'll cut to the chase," he starts before pausing, "is your prep team still here?" "No. They're off doing," he gestures vaguely towards the door, "whatever the hell it is they do." Something he considers a blessing. He already sees them more than he sees his own reflection. The less he's around them, the better. "Why?" "Because they're the last people we need to hear this conversation," he sits on the chair to the left of the couch. "Allies. Have you thought of any besides Mags?" "Can't say I have." He lies. Of course, he has. He's going into the arena with people he's known for a decade. Johanna comes to mind, but it's unlikely she'd team up with anyone. And you. He doubts you'd want him as an ally, but he'll help you regardless. And if it came down to him and you, well.

He’ll make sure you make it home. "You sure?" He leans his head on the hand that's propped up on the arm of the chair. "Not even a certain someone from Eleven? What was that nickname you gave her—Star, right?" He asks with that same tone he always used to take on when teasing Finnick about you. He bites down on the defensive response bubbling up, the snide comment on the tip of his tongue. He thumbs at the shell in the middle of his bracelet. He doesn't know, Finnick reminds himself, he doesn't know what I had to do to you. He isn't making fun of me. It's not like he told anyone other than Mags and Annie what happened between you and him—what Snow made him do. It's not like he ever could. Though he’s sure he, correctly, assumes that it’s Finnick’s fault. He takes a breath. "What is this about, Haymitch?" The older man sits for a moment, deliberating, before speaking. "When you get in the arena, I need you to protect Katniss and Peeta." 

"...Are you drunk?" Finnick looks him over top to bottom. Maybe he’s gotten better at acting like he’s sober. "Not yet, sadly. I'm serious, Finnick." "And why the hell would I do that?" Haymitch goes on to explain the impending revolution. How District Thirteen didn't become a nuclear wasteland, and, instead, was forced into hiding. And how, with the help of Plutarch Heavensbee, the rebels started planning a coup as soon as the Quarter Quell was announced. "You don't seem surprised." "I'm not. People talk. Especially when they feel guilty." When he started turning away his clients' money, they were desperate to pay him atonement so their consciences wouldn't be weighed down by their sins. You came up with the idea. Money wasn't worth its salt to a victor. But secrets? Secrets were cashed in gold. With everything he was told, it wasn't hard to connect the dots. What he is surprised by is Heavensbee's hand in all of this. He's in a position of power, one directly under the president. What did he stand to gain from throwing all that away? He's wary and he tells Haymitch as much. "I know this is hard to believe, for you in particular, but there are good Capitols." He tries to cross his ankle over his knee but fails—clearly not sober. "Or, at least people who wanna do the right thing who just so happen to be Capitol." He tacks on at Finnick's unconvinced scoff. 

"Alright, say I believe he's genuine, which I don’t. If this has been brewing for so long, why hasn't anyone acted until now?" "Every good revolution needs a spark and a flame." "And that's…Katniss?" "It's the romance! What it represents to Snow, but, more importantly, to the districts. The first act of public rebellion in over seventy-five years. But, the face of it is, more or less, Katniss." The Girl on Fire igniting a wildfire in the districts. He chuckles. "And where does Peeta fall in this metaphor?" "You can't have fire without air, right?" He asks rhetorically. "Well, we won't have Katniss without Peeta. She won't help us without him." Finnick rolls his eyes and sets the remote down beside him. The farce the two of them are pushing forward with this whole 'tragic romance' act will definitely keep them in the public's favor, but to let that get in the way of something this important is the kind of selfishness that can only be associated with a child. "She can't possibly care about him that much." "Yeah, well, you'd be surprised. Regardless, I need you—both of you to be a part of this. The Movement needs you. You're clever and a capable fighter. And you're one of the few who's experienced Snow's special brand of torture." He shouldn't flinch, but he does. It's an open secret among the victors, but to talk about it with anyone other than you is disquieting. He knows his face closes off and he's thankful for the fact that Haymitch knows when to stop while he’s ahead. Finnick looks to Mags. Her brows are furrowed resolutely, nowhere near as stricken as he is. She was alive during the first rebellion, but only a child. She must've been dreaming about this for years. 

Haymitch goes to talk, but Finnick raises his hand to stop him before he can speak. “No need.”

Nothing Haymitch can say now will sway him to the cause, he’s almost certain of it. Better to save his breath while Finnick thinks. Because, rest assured, there is plenty for him to think about.

"God, you too are so alike it's eerie—down to the mannerisms. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it still throws me." Haymitch shakes his head in disbelief. "Who?" "Your better half. It took me a minute to convince her to join the Movement too, but only because she's so stubborn. You both are." And just like that, whatever illusion of choice Finnick thought he had is stripped away with the mention of you. Every path he takes leads back to you. What a heartening thought. "Alright. I'll be their ally. I'll," he takes a steadying breath. "I'll join the rebellion." "That's all it took? I would have brought her up earlier if I knew that, save myself some time." He sighs. "As a plus, the guys in charge agreed to rescue any rebels from the arena as long as you get Katniss and Peeta to the pickup point." Rescue? They'll make it out? Mags. Johanna. You. Abruptly, he gets a faint whiff of your scent caught in his head like a flashback. Hovering in his nostrils as faint as a memory. It is a memory. But if he goes through with this, maybe it doesn't have to stay one. "The pickup point?" "Is something you don't have to worry about right now. Everyone will be getting different parts of the plan that’ll need their full attention." If there really are as many people a part of this rebellion as Haymitch says there are, then, realistically, there's no way they'll all be making it out. Finnick's sure a decent amount of them will be trapped there in the arena after all hell breaks loose. And that's if they don't die beforehand. "Finnick, if we do this, and we do it right, that's it." "That's it?" "That's it. We're free. What does freedom look like to you, Finnick? I mean, I know what it looks like to me," Haymitch leans forward, elbows on his knees. He speaks about this with so much confidence, that Finnick is finding it hard to be pessimistic. "It looks like the citizens living without the weight of oppression and Snow losing any power he has over Panem. It looks like the Hunger Games ending permanently." Freedom. Now, that's an idea he's never even flirted with before. Something so completely out of his reach, he never dared to dream of it because it would hurt too much to wake up. He contemplates it. What does freedom look like to him? It looks like the generations following them never feeling the hopelessness they do now. It looks like the Hunger Games only being experienced through textbooks and the name Coriolanus Snow becoming a ghost story. Freedom looks like being by your side, loving you fearlessly. Finnick's never felt true freedom before—the closest he's ever gotten to it was when you touched him. He doubts it can feel much better than that. 

Even without knowing the full plan, Finnick can tell there are a lot of moving pieces involved. All it'll take is one misstep, one fuck up, and it all collapses. The cards are stacked against them higher than he'd like to think about. Finnick's not a gambling man, but this? This is something he's willing to bet on. 

Either they succeed or die trying.

Finnick runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots for a second. "Alright. What do I have to do?" 

Haymitch smiles, more genuine than it usually is. "Just get them there. We'll handle the rest."

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Summer Afternoons

Fem!Reader Words: 636

AN: I found an old WIP that I managed to finish. I'm also playing around with fic format styles so let me know if there's anything you think looks good with formatting. I'm curious.

Thoma sat outside on the stairs of the Kamisato estate facing the garden. He had a small basket filled with yarn next to him with knitting needles in hand. It may have been summer, but it was a surprisingly cool day. The afternoon sun was shining on his skin providing warmth that made the summer day perfect to be outside to him.

He had been working with the yarn for at least a half-hour giving him a good start on his project. He had been enjoying the sounds of birds that had been flying by during his break. The estate had been cleaned to perfection leaving nothing for him to do.

He listened to the footsteps of the guards walking back and forth creating almost a melody. A pair of footsteps walking against the wood of the stairs interrupted the melody as they approached him. It was stopped by the sound of a person sitting down on the stairs next to him opposite his basket.

“Hi.” A voice greeted him.

Thoma looked up from his project and saw Y/N next to him. She carried a tray with glasses of lemonade topped with plenty of ice and two plates of cut-up lavender melons. “I've seemed to make way too much. Want some? I've already put off as much as I could onto both Kamisatos.”

“I was thinking about grabbing some after I got far enough with this.” He held up the project he had been working on.

Y/N sat on the stairs next to him placing the tray between them. “What's it going to be?”

“I got a package from my mom and she saw some yarns that she thought I would like. I'm just making a blanket for myself. Figured it would be the closest I would get to having a hug from her.” He explained.

“I'm glad you're making something for yourself for once. You would benefit from being a bit more selfish every now and then.”

He laughed. “My mother had sent a letter with the package and she said if I made something to give away with this yarn she would find a way to tell me something similar.” Even though he knew his mom wasn't serious, it was tempting to do. As much as he loved Inazuma, Mondstadt was his childhood hood. It's where his mother lived and he missed her dearly.

“Well, next time you send her a letter you can tell her that someone here is also trying to make sure you're a little selfish every now and then.” Y/N smiled. “We can even get a picture of you wrapped in the blanket to send to her.”

“That would be nice.” It was an offer he was willing to take up. His mom had very much been one to ask for pictures of him since she couldn't see her ‘baby boy’.

She moved the drink and plate of fruit off of the tray for him before grabbing the tray. “I'm excited to see how the blanket comes out. As nice as it is out here, I do have a book that's inside calling my name.”

“Oh, what's it about?”

“It's something Ayaka has been begging me to read.” The step creaked as she stood up with the tray.

“I think I know which one you're talking about. It's good. I think you'll like it.” The metal of the knitting needles began clicking as he started working with the yarn as the two of them talked.

“I've gotten about a hundred pages in and I'm beginning to question why I put it off for so long.”

Thoma laughed. “Don't let me keep you from it any longer then.”

“It's no harm. Maybe one of these days I'll come and sit out here with you as I read.”

“I would like that.”

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 32

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,853

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: GET LOW

You have to keep your priorities straight. There's a group of terrorist super soldiers running around while the serum to create them is apparently being created in the worst possible place for it, Madripoor. You only agreed to this mission to solve that problem; nothing else should be on your mind nor of your concern. The sooner you fix things, the sooner you can return home where you somewhat wish you would've stayed to begin with.

Despite your bitter and anxious mood, you keep strictly to your assigned character during negotiations. Standing behind Zemo with hands kept clasped in front of yourself, you pay close attention to every word said not because you care for the conversation itself, but so that you can be prepared if anything goes wrong.

As scripted, you only move when Zemo offers to 'trade' the Winter Soldier to Selby in exchange for information, at which point you briefly hold up a book for her to see containing the supposed code words (none that are accurate, as you made sure to confirm before even entering Madripoor).

Earlier when this part of the plan had been explained to you, you were hesitant, yet now you find yourself caring a little less, a petty side of you almost wanting to actually leave him here with this lunatic crime-lord since she seems perfectly willing to take him off your hands. It's not like you plan to ever come back to Madripoor anyway, so he'd never have to worry about seeing you again; a total win for him.

The good news is you get a lead from Selby: a man named Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the one making super soldier serum. The bad news? She refuses to say where you can find him, not even willingly to mention if he's in Madripoor. The worst news? Sam forgot one of the biggest rules to undercover missions: turning off your damn phone.

It's at this point that your facades begin to unravel like a cat's favorite ball of yarn. Based on the way Sam looks around the room nervously, you can tell it isn't a scam call or wrong number, yet there's nothing any of you can do for him once Selby demands he answer it on speaker phone. Despite his desperate attempts to maintain his role as Smiling Tiger, the woman on the other end doesn't get the hint, stubbornly remaining on line until delivering the final blow by referring to him by name.

"'Sam'? Who's 'Sam'?" Selby becomes enraged immediately, "Kill them -!"

Almost as soon as those words left her mouth, a bullet came crashing through the window, hitting Selby from behind and causing her to fall limp onto the ground. From there, you're only allowed a brief moment of surprise before a fight ensues.

Thankfully unlike the bar downstairs where there would've been a gun pointing at you from every direction, there are only two armed guards in this private room who are slow to react. Bucky and Sam easily knock them out while taking their guns for themselves which is enough of a threat for everyone else to flee without causing any further trouble, although that doesn't necessarily save any of you from this new situation you've landed yourselves in.

"We have a real problem now," Zemo complains, yet his behavior comes across as being no more inconvenienced than he would be if someone spit in his tea, "Leave your weapons and follow my lead."

You wish you could be as calm, too - which is the first and only time you'll be jealous of Zemo for something. Sure, you can act calm, but to truly be it is another talent. It doesn't matter how straight your expression is nor how casual you try to walk while still being swift on your feet; you feel like a deer walking through a shooting range the second you step onto the streets, senses heightened as you wait for any sign of danger directed your way.

You don't have to wait long. The lights of the street suddenly flash off, leaving you blinded by darkness soon disrupted by a flurry of gunshots aimed at your group. It's complete chaos after that. There’s no uniformed or planned attack like what you're used to. It's a city of criminals governed by no leadership or morals, only their own selfish interests in mind.

There's gunshots to your left and gunshots to your right. People screaming as they run for cover, people shouting as they chase after you through the many streets and allies. Now, you haven't been to the gym in months - Alright, maybe years, but practiced exercise is nothing compared to pure adrenaline. The mere thought of your life being on the line as motorcycles roar somewhere close by serves as the perfect motivator for your legs to keep moving, chasing directly behind Bucky who likely has no idea where he's going, but anywhere is better than stopping to ask for directions.

Your pace only slows when coming around another corner, at which point you foolishly duck upon hearing two more gunshots fired from somewhere ahead. When you don't feel the force of any bullets ripping through your body, you turn around to see the motorcycle drivers both hunched over lifeless.

“Well, this is too perfect,” A voice comes as a woman steps out of the foggy darkness, only removing a hand from her gun briefly to pull down her hood which reveals her face to the rest of you. If it weren’t for your excellent memory, you likely would’ve had a harder time recognizing her as Sharon Carter, someone you’ve only met once and under far different circumstances, but she’s an ally nonetheless.

This would be the point where you sigh if not for still trying to catch your breath and steady your nerves.

You're grateful for the opportunity to finally switch out of this stupid disguise you've been forced to wear all night and pleased to see Sharon has offered quite the selection of new outfits to choose from, although most look far too fancy for your taste, particularly the ones drenched in glitter. Not wanting to look like a walking disco ball, you pick something comfortable yet pretty and, most importantly, suitable for action since you highly doubt your game of dodging bullets is over just yet.

Glancing around to check on everyone else, you notice they all seem to be doing their own thing. Sam's trying to find his own change of clothes from the rack, Zemo's currently helping himself to Sharon's alcohol collection, and Bucky has simply plopped down on the couch with back turned to the rest of you (brooding, as you would assume).

"Is there someplace I can change?" You ask Sharon once she returns. She tosses her coat onto the couch next to Bucky and spares you a quick look as she passes by.

"What? Can't change here?" While her tone may have been teasing, that smirk on her face makes you question if she's truly joking, however you certainly aren't.

You'll confess that you've changed in the same room as Bucky before, however you'd also argue that the circumstances were very different then. To him, you had been roommates for so long that it didn't seem like a big deal to switch shirts or sleep in only boxers in your presence. To you...Well, you've always known that you had both done a little more than simply 'change' in front of each other in the 40s, so why be embarrassed about your roommate-once--fiancé catching a sneak peek?

The point is, while you're comfortable around Bucky, that doesn't apply to anyone else in this room. Sam's a friend you barely know, Sharon's a person you don't know, and Zemo's a liability you'd have to strangle if he so much as thought of saying anything remotely inappropriate.

"I'd rather have privacy."

Sharon rolls her eyes with a scoffed laugh, "Sorry, I didn't think you'd mind. You've never seemed that shy around men before."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Your voice alone warns her to answer carefully as does your irked expression, yet she still turns away from you with a careless shrug.

"It's just that you come across as someone who likes attention, that's all. What, with you going from Rogers, Barnes, Stark then Barnes again; you sure get around, but hey, props to you for having fun with your life, I guess."

"You know there's this thing called 'friends', right?" Sam interjects, unable to himself. He knows you all desperately need Sharon's help in finding Dr. Nagel, but he has trouble biting back the offense he takes on your behalf from her unwarranted comments.

For better or for worse, she isn't fazed by Sam's disapproval, instead responding sarcastically to it, "Really? Never heard of it."

"Like that isn't obvious," You roll your eyes then land them on Bucky who unlike Sam doesn't bother to show an ounce of concern for how Sharon's treating you, his back remaining completely turned to the problem.

Although his silence has been bothering you this whole time, you must say it especially stings right now. You understand that he's mad, but so much so that he isn't even willingly to say a single word in your defense? That he's just going to sit there and let her basically call you a whore? He knows the truth, all he has to do is say it. Who cares if it actually shuts Sharon up? At least he'd look like a decent gentleman by attempting to protect your honor instead of a total asshole wordlessly supporting her point!

Looking back at Sharon, you match her crossed arms and pair them with a disinterested stare, "I know you're bitter and shit about Steve leaving you for your aunt, but that doesn't involve me, so if you're that desperate to lift your ego, I suggest picking up a hobby or - better yet - moving on instead of pissing me off which I will only warn you once is a dangerous game to play.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased to know Barnes and I - we're nothing; not even friends. The sole reason why I'm right now is because Sam, a friend, asked nicely and I, for one, don't want anyone dragging the name of super soldiers through the mud; personally, I don't think Steve's legacy deserves that. Now is there somewhere I can change or not?"

Despite the bite behind your words, Sharon appears more impressed than offended or sorry as she nods her head towards the hallway, "There's a bathroom down the hall, three doors to your right."

"...Thanks," You brush past her with your clothes in hand, more convinced than ever that you'll never step foot in Madripoor again after this even if the rest of the world were to be on fire.

Seconds after you disappear through the glass doors, Bucky turns to send a glare Sharon's way, "What the hell was that?"

"What? ...Oh, come on! Did I really hit that deep of a nerve? I thought for Avengers, you'd all have thicker skin," Sharon's attempt at innocence crumbles under Bucky and Sam's intense glares, yet she merely sighs in frustration before going to pour herself a glass of alcohol over where Zemo's been watching the whole scene unfold while sipping his brandy in amusement.

"I highly doubt I'm the only one who finds it a little suspicious that someone who stuck their neck out for the Winter Soldier and Captain America was entirely forgiven when rich boy Tony Stark cried out in their favor only to conveniently fall right back into their former lover's arms after his death. I mean, last I saw they were practically your little lap dog seven years ago and honestly, I can't say it seems much has changed once Stark got out of the way."

Sharon finishes her little rant by collapsing on the opposite side of the couch as Bucky who shakes his head in disbelief, "Wow, you're kind of awful now, aren't you?"

"Look, Sharon. I'm sorry for everything that happened. I'm sorry no one ever called -" Sam starts.

"- You make it sound like it was just a missed date or something -"

"- I know that it seems like (Y/n) got off easy compared to the crap you've had to put up with after helping us, but it's not their fault how things ended. Stark was there to stand up for them while no one was there for you, so don't blame them, blame me. I should've called, but after the Blip, it was chaos and I -"

"- Oh, save your breath," Sharon shakes her head, looking back at Sam from over the edge of the couch, "...You know all this hero stuff is just bullshit, right? Deep down, you know it's all hypocrisy and that's why you gave up the shield."

"He knows, just not that deep down," Zemo asserts from the corner of the room, however Sam himself can't seem to say anything, only able to remain quiet while wishing he had your talent for snapping back. He wants to say something to disprove Sharon's allegations, yet he instead hands her the win with his silence, allowing her to go back to finishing her drink just in time for you to return, clearly still irritated and too much so to question whether the dim energy of this room is from your past conversation or a new one.

"Alright, so what's the plan? How are we finding this Dr. Nagel, hmm?" You get right to business, not even bothering to act cheerful or excited as you normally would; your will to do so for everyone else's sake is officially run dry.

"Are you guys still sure you want to get involved in this?" For once, Sharon doesn't show much confidence, in fact you would even say she sounds genuinely concerned as she sets her empty glass on the table, "For your own safety, I'd recommend that you don't. Nagel works for the Power Broker who, might I remind you, you're already in deep shit against after what happened with Selby."

"Free range super soldiers being produced under the management of a criminal empire? Yeah, for the safety of the world, I'd say backing down isn't really an option here," You argue, half surprised Sharon doesn't have some smartass comment to swing back at you which proves that while she might be a pain to deal with, she at least isn't stupid.

"To do this we need your help, Sharon. We can get your name cleared -" Sam adds.

"- Heh. Haggling with my life now, are we?"

"Not like that -"

"- Mmm, I don't buy it - you pretending to clear my name as your bargaining chip?"

"I can try," Sam walks around the couch, standing in front of Sharon with a hand outstretched towards her, "It's not impossible, after all, they already cleared the name of a bionic staring machine after he killed almost everyone he met -"

"- I heard that -"

"- I don't trust charity."

"It's not really 'charity'," You sit on an armchair and shrug when Sharon's glances around Sam at you, "Charity is the act of voluntary giving. We're not just 'giving' you anything, we're offering an exchange. You help us find Nagel, Sam here gets your name cleared. Can't be that hard. The government's views change like a flip of a dime. Catch 'em at a desperate time of need and they'll be more willing to pardon you for your help in the cause."

"...Nice to see someone here admits to seeing the hypocrisy of it all," Sharon inhales and exhales deeply, her words causing you to raise an eyebrow in confusion after having missed the context to them earlier. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter as she finally shakes Sam's hand and stands to her feet, "I sell to some pretty connected people, so just lay low, stay out of trouble, and enjoy the party while I see what I can do."

You're not a fan of crowds, but at least this suffocating party beats being cornered in a bar full of hostile, armed patrons. Here everything is more laid back, similar to any noncriminal run club. The music is blaring, lights flashing, and ground vibrating as guests dance to their hearts' content. All you have to do now is just look like you're equally enjoying yourself for a few hours which is significantly easier than your previous role as 'silent assistant'.

Leaned against a wall, your laughter becomes comparable to the booming of the bass and is contagious within the group of party goers standing around you. You just gotta keep this up - keep engaging in a few more conversations, tell a couple of funny jokes while downing a drink or two along the way, and soon that annoying, nagging voice inside your head will finally go mute, allowing you to sink deeper and deeper into your game of intoxicating pretend.

"Hey -!" You're suddenly pulled away from your new group of friends when Bucky grabs your arm, quite literally tugging your attention from them to him. While he's technically successful, you're hardly amused, immediately ripping your arm away from him with a glare and another swig of your drink.

"- What?"

Bucky, who was going to say something else, becomes distracted when his eyes flicker down to your half-empty bottle, "...Don't you think you've had enough?"

You huff, bringing the bottle back up to your lips while maintaining your glare, "I'm not going to get drunk if that's what you're worried about. I'm able to handle my liquor quite well, thank you very much. It's in my blood, after all."

Bucky sighs, half tempted to rip that bottle away from your stubborn hand, however he refrains from the urge.

"...Have you heard anything from Sharon yet?" Your question echoes within the glass as you survey the active party around you both.

"No. Last I heard, she's still talking to her 'connections'."

"Well hopefullyshe starts speeding things up. It's been a long enough night already," You'd blame it on exhaustion fogging up your mind, but in truth, it's probably the relief from Bucky's finally talking to you which seems to take some weight off of your shoulders, allowing you to relax and speak more freely in his presences - to be more like yourself unlike how you've been behaving around those other party goers...however you shouldn't have been so trusting to this feeling.

"Then you should go rest."

"Not until we find Nagel."

Bucky pauses, not even looking at you as he just stares at some other far off place in the room, "...I think you should stay here while we go talk to Nagel ourselves."

"There's no point in that," You sigh, "I came here to help you guys, not stand on the sidelines."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

"What?" You return your glare to him once more.

"It's not necessary for all of us to go. We don't need five people -"

"- Does my presence add that much to the equation? Three people is fine, but four's a crowd? In that case, why not have Sharon stay behind? She's the tag-along...Or is it just me?"

"It...It has nothing to do with you, okay? I just think -" Bullshit. He acts as if your accusation is nothing short of ridiculous yet never looks directly at you longer than an impatient glance. It is you.

"- Here's an idea: how about you just pretend I'm not there, yeah?" You put your free hand on your hip, feeling your blood begin to boil the more his words sink into your skin, "I mean, that's what you've been doing this whole time and you seem to have gotten pretty damn good at it, I'd say, so I doubt it'll kill you to do for a few extra hours."

Bucky inhales deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose, "...Look, we've already run into trouble and barely got out of it just searching for Nagel. Actually talking to him is going to be dangerous."

"Alright? And your point is?"

"You're at the most risk out of all of us. You don't have any formal training, you don't have any powers. Just - Come on and be reasonable. You'll only get yourself hurt -!"

"'Be reasonable'?" You can't help but laugh with a shake of your head, "I am being reasonable! In case you've forgotten, I protected your ass for two whole years and helped the Avengers fight Thanos twice! That's not even mentioning the shit I went through against HYDRA, either! For fucks sake, I've been shot at before, so training or not, the fear of dying isn't new for me!"

Your fury falters and you immediately regret your choice of words once noticing Bucky's reaction to them. Almost as soon as they're said, his expression becomes shattered and mournful, and a part of you instantly feels terrible seeing that, yet at the same time, your lingering anger - still fueled by your inner, unresolved pain - prevents you from outright apologizing.

"...You're a liability if you go..."

You grip your bottle, almost wishing it would just shatter in your hands to emphasize what you're feeling right now. Maybe then you'd have an excuse to cry in front of so many people - people who would definitely raise eyebrows if you were to completely lash out right now and confront Bucky with every swirling thought that's been burning hotter on your tongue following each drop of alcohol: 'What am I doing wrong? Why are you treating me like this? How come you don't love me anymore? Can't you see that it's drowning me?

You take a deep breath, calming yourself down a little before opening your eyes to look back up at Bucky with a false smile, "...You know what? Suuure. I'll stay behind. Whatever makes you happy, you fucking asshole!"

After spitting those final venomous words, you shove pass him roughly and storm off into the crowd, no longer caring if anyone heard your little 'lover's quarrel', as they probably all see it as. You have no idea where you're going or what you'll even do in the meantime, but Sharon's house seems big enough, so you're sure you'll have no problem finding someplace quiet to soak in all your self-pity.

Bucky almost calls after you, requiring every ounce of willpower not to chase you and give an apology, but what would that actually accomplish if he did? 'Sorry I hurt your feelings, but I'm still not changing my mind because I stand by what I said'...As if that would fix anything.

Maybe this is for the best, at least that's what he tries to convince himself throughout each second that his guilt eats away at him. For the price of hurting you, you won't be in danger if things go south talking to Nagel. Perhaps you'll even want to go home after this and you'll never have to be at risk because of any of this stuff again. Sure, you'll hate him as you probably do now, but if that's what it takes for you to be alive, then it's worth it.

...It'll be worth this heartache, won't it?

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Taglist:

@arunabrak,

[eyes-inthe-dark]

Hi Hello I actually make things sometimes

I don't know if anyone who follows me is interested in this stuff bc I very rarely post things from my own life, but I decided to be a little more active on here besides reblogging funny shit regarding my current hyperfixation.

So, here is the (incomplete) crafting diary of a neurodivergent trans person surviving christmas with the family and the dark and dreadful times (winter) in general by making shit! with my hands!

First: fiber stuff

I picked up tablet weaving over the last few months of 2023 and made my first pair of somewhat mistake-free shoelaces over the holidays! Only got the pattern completely right on the second try with the red but both laces now get to add a fun little detail to my shoes.

Next I tried a more complicated pattern and experimented a lot, hence the irregular pattern and troubleshooting at the start of the band. I'm now repurposing it as a camera strap and I learned a lot from it tho.

My current setup is basic cardboard tablets (I had to make extra ones so I had enough for the last band with 30 cards), tying the warp to something sturdy like a bookshelf, and sitting down with a backstrap belt on the other side of the room. I used thin wool yarn for this, which stuck to itself quite a lot, but not too much to be unmanagable, and I really like how the finished product feels.

If anyone's interested, I could make a longer post on how I made the shoelaces, I think it's a very beginner friendly project.

I managed to get my hands on a drop spindle and gave that a try, but I ran out of wool after making a very small amount of very chunky yarn and am currently working out where to best get sth local. It was fun tho!

I also finally finished the knitted scarf that has been in my wip pile for... approximately three years? I started it when I was still in school, feels like an eternity ago. It's just a simple (although very long) red wool scarf, but it keeps me nice and warm in this cold, harsh- *checks weather* ...5°C and neverending rain.

Next up: woodworking!

Noodled around with my grandpa's old dremel that we still had lying around, which resulted in this truly terrifying weapon:

Behold! I named it Toothling. It's great for poking friends and family when they least expect it.

This was more of a test run to see if it all still works and to try out doing small scale work with wood, now I gotta think of something fun to make. (I say, as if I didn't already have 50 different ideas)

Before that fuckery, I made this magnetic dice box/rolling tray for my lovely partner's birthday.

Though I don't feel like I can take credit for working the CNC magic on this, I did all the hands-on work with the sanding, assembling the magnets, shellac coating, and whatnot. I'm pretty sure wood is some sort of fruit tree, since it smells strongly of what I suspect might be plum or cherry.

Last but sure as fuck not least: embroidery

This I actually get professional instruction for at uni. I've kinda lost patience for it atm, but mostly because I cannot resist making unnecessarily complicated pieces with tiny little stitches and then am forced to finish it because I do actually kinda need to pass this class. My lecturer keeps telling me not to go so detailed, yet I have proven resistant to her good advice. But, I figured if I have to make two full pieces of embroidery to be graded on and put hours of work into, I might as well choose designs that I can turn into patches for my jacket:

Catha and Ruidus! I love me some big moon little moon imagery. The prompt was to incorporate most of the techniques/stitches we've learned so far. Added the little gold chain stitch around ruidus for the arcane latticework. It came out a little wonky shape wise, but I love it nonetheless.

And my most recent wip, a stained glass window design with the Ninth House skull and Gideon's sword behind it, to feed my current Locked Tomb obsession.

And that's it!

[giant-tiny-fiber-friends]

Knitting in G/T

Let's get started with a classic!

(This is a continuation of a conversation that began here, for context)

I'm intending for this to be partly an informative post, as well as a conversation starter in case anyone had ideas or questions regarding the topic. As part of the g/t writing community, I know how handy it can be to have resources for niche topics, so hopefully this can help or inspire someone! I'm going to talk about knitting in existing g/t media, some of the possibilities I can think of as far as knitting for giants and tinies go, and some examples of what gives me real life g/t vibes in knitting.

Knitting, for clarity, is the art of turning yarn into fabric using a pair of needles. It seems like one of those crafts that people have plenty of ideas about with tinies, but doesn't so readily come up with giants. Maybe we'll fix that here, we'll see!

In Media

I've noticed this has mostly been explored from the tiny side of things, at least in established media. Now's the part where I admit that I do not have a comprehensive understanding and grasp of g/t media, so if there are further examples of this that exist, I'd love to hear about them! For now, the most immediate examples I can think of is The Borrowers, both in the book and one of the film adaptations.

The first is featured in one of the original covers of the original book, a colorized version of an illustration that shows Homily knitting on a pair of pins.

The text describes her as "knitt(ing) their jerseys and stockings on black headed pins, and, sometimes, on darning needles (...)" and goes on to describe her using spools of silk or cotton thread to do so. This is doable, especially since both thread and pins can vary in thicknesses, which can affect the way the fabric created behaves. One would simply need to find or make pins that were more dull, because those things can get Sharp!

Darning needles, which are slightly bigger than what you'd think of as sewing needles but still pretty thin, are a little thicker and I would think would be used with something a bit more substantial than thread. I'll get into this more in depth when I get around to talking about spinning, but yarn can be spun pretty finely, and tinies could easily be resourceful enough to manage to get it to a usable size, no matter the needles used.

As an aside, the BBC's 1992 iteration of The Borrowers quietly goes into more detail about this side of their existence. It ran for two seasons, covering most of the books up til "The Borrowers Aloft", I believe. The whole thing can bee found on YouTube, and someone recently posted an HD remaster!

Homily's knitting crops up throughout the first arc as not only a tool for keeping her family warm, but as a way for her to cope with her anxiety. She quickly picks up her knitting (from a small ball of wool she seems to have wound herself rather than from a spool, which is much more mobile) after an argument with Arrietty, and while she waits for Pod to come home from late-night borrowing.

Then, after they flee the cottage, they collect wild wool (seen above) from the brambles to use as insulation, and I believe the implication is that it's later spun into yarn for Homily to use to make Arrietty a sweater/jumper and herself a cardigan, shown in this short clip:

Seriously, if you haven't seen this adaptation, I highly recommend! Lookit Homily getting to be a bit of a badass for once!

The Potential

Knitting like this is plausible in g/t spheres, in my opinion. A lot of modern knitting has grown to lean away from separate straight needles like the pins would facsimile, choosing circular needles instead. Basically it's a few inches of solid needle attached to a flexible cord that more easily allows a knitter to work in a continuous tube (like hats), but they can be used to make flat things (like scarves) as well.

Even if an article is made of tubes- hats, sweaters, and even socks- they can still be made flat and seamed together. So if all a tiny has access to are a pair of pins, or if all a giant can do is carve and polish some wood into straight needles, it's a perfectly valid way to go about things. I'm not going to put a limit on the innovations of big or small folk to be able to come up with workarounds if they truly wanted to make a circular needle equivalent, though. Maybe a tiny could use a sturdy yet flexible bit of wire with the tips worn down to a taper, or a giant could MacGyver something with literal cabling, who knows? I'm all for hearing other ideas!

Real Life G/t Vibes

Most Vibes I get from knitting are from things made with really thick or thin yarn. Big, chunky yarn reminds me of how even the thinnest of yarn would probably still be quite lofty to a tiny. To me, it gives the feeling of having found doll's clothing and using it to keep warm!

The Harper Jacket by Ciadree via Ravelry.com

And I know it's not really useful to a hypothetical giant, but knitting tiny things does give one the feeling of being big. I'm often reminded of Althea Crome, the self-proclaimed micro-knitter who made the knits in the movie Coraline and has a whole gallery of miniature knitted art!

Mixing different weight (sizes) and colors of yarn also gives me very homemade, using what you have on hand even if it doesn't match kinda vibes, which I find fitting for both giants and tinies. They (most likely) don't have textile shops where they can get all matching bits. Or maybe they do, and that's valid, too! I'll get into more detail about that when I talk about scraps and stash eventually, but I think this post has gotten quite long enough.

If you have any more ideas or questions about this topic, and especially if you have more examples in existing g/t media that I don't know of or forgot about when writing this, please do keep the conversation going!

[milkweedman]

Hi! I saw you were working with babydoll a while back; were you working from a fleece? I was gifted a pair of fleeces this week. Honestly, any tips on babydoll wool in general would be lovely! Thank you!

I was working from a fleece, yeah ! Mine was on the longer end of staple length for the breed (1.5-4 in or 3.8-10 cm, according to the Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook), mostly around 3 inches, which I think might be what made it impossible to prep on hand cards, because they barely touched the lock structure and removed almost no grit or vm--my fleece had lots of grit, not much vm, but it absolutely needed to be removed before spinning because otherwise it just stayed in.

If your fleeces have short staples though, and especially if they aren't gritty and don't have much vm, you could probably card them quite well ! The shorter the staple the better when it comes to carding down fleeces, at least in my experience.

The locks have a very strong structure--they're harder to separate and open than something like shetland or jacob, so if they are longer you really do need to comb them, because hand cards won't do it well (or in my case, won't do it at all. It just matted and tangled the fibers). Combed SDB top is really really nice to spin though, highly recommend at least trying it !

In terms of usage it depends on the individual fleeces, on the age of the sheep, that sort of thing. Mine was definitely not next-to-skin quality (fine for socks I think but wouldn't want a sweater of that yarn). If the fleeces are similar in terms of vm and staple length it could be worth it to sort both at the same time--there were a few spots of really nice soft locks on mine, so between the two you might get enough for a smaller piece like a hat or some gloves.

And I don't know if yours are raw or not but if they are raw, you might need to wash them more thoroughly than usual. Mine required 3 washes to get to the same standard of cleanness that I usually get after 1 wash. Again, I think that's just the strength of the lock structure and the density of the fiber--it's hard to actually get the lanolin and dirt out.

A few more facts from the Fleece and Fiber Sourcebook, in case you don't have it (which are just for Southdown broadly--unfortunately they don't really differentiate between the meat sheep breed, the babydolls, or the miniature or toys):

Average micron count: 23-27 for white fleece, 27-31 for black (actually have never seen it distinguish by color in this book, that's interesting)

Natural colors: typically just white, although mine was gray and I've seen one or two black fleeces on the market. White is by far the most common color though.

Yield: between 40-55% of raw fleece weight, apparently. I'm not sure if I believe that--or maybe that's for the meat sheep breed and they just didn't say. Mine had so little lanolin that I actually contacted the seller to make sure it was still raw. Or maybe they're counting the grit xD.

And (this part straight from the book rather than paraphrased) Fiber preparation and spinning tips: These are nice, versatile, medium-handling wools. Shorter fleeces can be carded, longer ones want to be flicked or combed. Spin to maintain the loft and springy character, keeping the drafting on the light side and the twist at moderate levels.

I will say that I spun my sock yarn high twist, and its still very nice, elastic, and not overly rough. But it definitely has a nicer hand when spun medium twist, as they recommend.

[star--joy]

5 Times People Thought Percy and Vex were Dating...

And the one time they decided to prove them right.

Chapter One: Keyleth

-

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 2227

Originally posted: 12/8/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/43509219

“What about this one?” Keyleth asks once again, stepping into view and spinning to give her college dorm-mate a full view of her newest set of clothes.

Percy sighs, begrudgingly looking up from his textbook to observe whatever she’s thrown together this time. “It looks fine. Just like the last eight outfits have.”

She looks down at the knitted green sweater she’d carefully picked out, paired with the black jeans. “Just fine? Are you sure it’s not too casual? Or not casual enough? Fuck, maybe I should wear something brighter…”

“Listen. I am the last person you should be coming to for fashion advice. Besides, no one there will care if your style isn’t perfect,” he tells her.

Keyleth pulls her lip between her teeth, wiping some imaginary dust off her black leggings and trying to convince herself to listen to him. Percy would know more than she would. After all, they’re his friends she’s meeting.

Still…

“I really want them to like me, Percy.” The admission would be hard to force out with anyone else, but it’s strangely easy to be honest with her roommate and best friend. “I mean, you make them sound so cool when you talk about them! And I don’t want to be that, like, annoying friend who no one wants to invite to the party, but they have to, because—”

Percy shuts his laptop, placing it beside him on the couch. “Keyleth,” he says, effectively cutting off her rambling with that tone of his that is somehow both firm and soothing. “They going to love you more than they love me. I promise.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me feel better,” she objects, rubbing the soft yarn of her sweater between her fingers to calm some of her anxiety.

“I’m really not. You’re much easier to care about than me.”

That catches her attention. Keyleth narrows her eyes and jabs a finger at him. “Put a quarter in the Deprecation Jar.”

The Deprecation Jar is her most ingenious idea, which she had come up with after seeing how much her best friend talked bad about himself. Whenever the mason jar is filled, Keyleth will buy him a gift with the money.

Percy scoffs. “That wasn’t self-deprecating, it was just the truth.”

“And now it’s two quarters. Put ‘em in.”

Percy grumbles, but nevertheless searches his pockets for the coins and reluctantly places them in the jar, which sits proudly on the coffee table. He keeps the quarters specifically to appease her. “Seriously, Keyleth. They adopt strays easily, and you will fit right in, regardless of what sweater you wear.”

She looks in the mirror one last time. She trusts Percy. At least, the logical part of her does.

And yet…. there’s another part of her, the anxious, emotional part, that can’t help but insist she will be judged for her outfit, and personality, and everything else. That’s the part that remembers going through school as the victim of pranks and gossip, simply because she wasn’t able to blend in.

“The sweater brings out your eyes. For the record,” Percy says when the silence has been drawn out for too long. He’s good at recognising her nerves, and although he doesn’t always know how to calm her, it’s sweet that he tries.

In the moment, that little bit of validation is all she needs. Keyleth smiles. “Thanks, Percy. Let’s go.”

*LINEBREAK*

It’s only a few minutes of a walk from Percy and Keyleth’s dorm to that of Percy’s friends, but Keyleth manages to fit about an hour of nervous babbling into that time. She only stops when the door is in sight, propped open slightly to reveal a sliver of a cozy looking room.

“Keyleth?” Percy asks when her words drop mid-syllable. “Are you alright?”

Swallowing her anxiety is hard, but she does, because she really does want to meet all of the people he talks about constantly. “Yeah. Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

For a second, he goes to say something, but cuts himself off. “Very well. They really are good people, and I assure you that they will take you in.”

She nods, pushing forward and knocking softly on the open door before peeking inside.

The dorm isn’t as crowded as she’d feared it might be, with only six visible people lounging around. They’re engaged in scattered conversations with each other, laughing and rolling their eyes and behaving with a happy familiarity.

One of them looks up at her soft knocking. A beautiful woman with dark brown hair pulled into a french braid, wearing a t-shirt for a band Keyleth has never heard of. “Percy!” she calls out, standing from the couch and making her way over. “And you must be Keyleth, the mysterious roommate.”

Keyleth nods and smiles. Her fingers twitch by her side, unsure if she should reach out to shake hands or hug or just do nothing. “Oh, I’m not mysterious,” she says, shoving her fists into her pockets before she can panic and hold them out for an awkward fist-bump.

That may or may not have been what she did when she met Percy.

The woman gestures them inside. “Well, I’m Vex. Come in, make yourself at home. The pizza on the right is vegetarian.”

Any thanks for the dietary clarification are cut off by utter shock when Vex lifts herself onto her toes and presses a kiss to Percy’s cheek, one of her hands resting on his chest. “Glad you could make it, darling.”

“You’re just glad I brought Keyleth. Don’t pretend you haven’t been dying to meet her,” he replies, using a fond tone that’s foreign to Keyleth.

Vex rolls her eyes. “I can be glad for more than one reason.” And then she’s tugging on his arm to lead him to the couch so they can sit a bit closer than normal friends do.

Keyleth forces herself to stop staring before it becomes noticeable.

She hadn’t realised that Percy was dating anyone, and certainly not someone she’d be meeting tonight. It makes nerves peer out from the corner she’d tried to shove them in. Friends are one thing, but a girlfriend? What if Keyleth doesn’t make a good impression?

Her movements are robotic as she sits on one of the loveseats, hands folded neatly in her lap.

In the corner, a short woman with pale hair is surprisingly holding her own in a playful arm-wrestle with a man easily twice her size. A brunette clad in purple cheers them on. On the other side of the room, a man who must be Vex’s brother, too identical to be unrelated, converses with a flamboyantly dressed blonde man, each of them lightly grinning. Vex laughs at something Percy said, kicking him half-heartedly.

Keyleth swallows, the feeling of isolation quickly gripping her. It’s as if she’s in high school again, eating lunch in the fucking bathroom because it’s better than being surrounded by the kind of friendships she’ll never have.

No. No, she does have those kinds of friendships. Percy is her friend, and these people could be, too. She has to make an effort.

Taking a deep breath, she listens into Vex’s words.

“—come with me down to the shooting range, Percy. It would be fun.”

“You just want to show off.”

“Well, of course. That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.”

Now or never. Keyleth pushes down her fear and jumps into the conversation. “You like to shoot? Guns?”

Vex grins. “Bow and arrow, actually. I’m quite good.”

“Really? That’s so cool. I tried to go to some archery classes when I was young but I accidentally shot my teacher and he got really mad and I wasn’t allowed back.” Keyleth says in one breath.

“Well, I’d be happy to show you the ropes sometime, dear,” Vex offers.

Keyleth glances at Percy, unsure if the offer is genuine, or if it’s like when people say, ‘we should get coffee sometime’. She’d learned her lesson about the last one more than enough times.

“You were looking for something to do this saturday, right? Perhaps that would be a good time,” Percy offers, encouraging her with a smile.

Vex nods. “If you’d like to, I’d be happy to teach you.”

Keyleth’s hands itch to flap in the air with her happiness, but she forces them to still. Friends. She’s making friends! With Percy’s girlfriend! That’s good, right? “That would be so cool! Should I get a bow? Oh, I really don’t know what kind to get. Are there beginner bows? What about arrows?”

“Oh, for fucks sake, have you already indoctrinated the new girl?” asks the man who must be Vex’s brother, startling all of them with his sudden appearance as he slides into the seat besides his identical sister. If it weren’t for the differences in clothes and hair, they would be impossible to tell apart.

“Shove off, Vax,” Vex huffs, trying to force him off the couch by kicking his back. “We were having a very pleasant conversation, and I don’t want you to ruin it.”

He refuses to budge, settling himself firmly in his seat. “No can do, Stubby. I want to meet Percy’s new best friend.”

Keyleth giggles. Their familiarity with each other is amusing. She’d always wanted a sibling like that. “I’m Keyleth.” She offers a shy wave.

“I’m Vax. Settle a bet for me, would you? Who’s prettier, me or Vex? It’s me, right?”

“Don’t answer that,” Percy cuts in, saving her from a bout of panic, because they’re really so identical that they’re equally pretty, but would they be offended with that answer? “Either answer will give one of you an ego boost, and heaven knows that’s the last thing you need.”

“Perhaps you would be prettier if you didn’t dress so… emo,” Vex snarks, vaguely gesturing at her brother’s fully black outfit, and his smudged eyeliner.

Vax scoffs, even as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side. “That contributes to the look, sister.”

“Oi, what’s going on over here?” asks yet another new person, this one the short, purple-clad brunette Keyleth had noticed earlier. He’s flanked by the rest of the people in the room. “Are we debating who looks best? Because we all know it’s me.”

“So you think you’re prettier than me?” Says the woman with pale hair tied in two buns, hands on her hips.

Scanlan laughs, but it’s nervous. “Ah. Well. We are… equally pretty?”

She snickers, then turns her attention to Keyleth. “I’m Pike. This is Scanlan, you can ignore him.” Scanlan gasps in offence, but she soldiers on without acknowledging it. “And this is Grog and Taryon.”

Grog is a giant of a man, but his grin is one of the friendliest Keyleth has ever seen. Taryon puffs out his chest and holds out a hand for her to shake. “A pleasure to meet you, Keyleth! Percy has spoken very highly about you, and any friend of his is a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Grog agrees, going for a fist bump.

“I’m Keyleth,” she says, giving both the hand shake and the fist bump. She can’t stop her giddy grin. For the first time in her life, she thinks she’ll get along with these people.

*LINEBREAK*

The get-together lasts until the sun is beginning to peek through the horizon and Keyleth is having trouble keeping her eyes open. Still, she regrets having to leave.

All of them had been so nice, and accepting, and just… amazing. The kind of friends she’d always dreamed of.

“You enjoyed yourself?” Percy asks on their walk home, tone knowing..

Keyleth doesn’t have the energy to berate him for being smug about it. “Mh hm. Your girlfriend is really nice. And the rest of them are, too,” she mumbles, tone slurring with her exhaustion.

It takes her a second to realise that, following her words, Percy had frozen in place, no longer walking with her back to their dorm. “Percy? You okay?” she asks, blinking to remove the sleep from her eyes.

Percy stares at her. Then: “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Vex. I mean, you were really cute together, and… um… you two are dating, right?”

He shakes his head. “No. We’re, uh, just friends.”

Keyleth goes stiff. Oh, no, had she really assumed like that? Shit, they just seemed so… cuddly! And romantic! And fuck, now she’s gone and offended him and screwed everything up and—

“Hey, no harm done,” Percy cuts in, noticing her hitched breathing. “Vex is… lovely, and I’m flattered you think she would, ah, court me, but… no, we’re not together.”

Is that a blush on his cheek? An octave jump to his tone? An avoidance of eye contact?

“…right,” Keyleth says, more than a little skeptical. They might not be together, but it’s clear that they like each other. “Sorry.”

He waves off her apology, ignorant to the way even she, the exhausted, autistic girl with no perception of social cues, can see how big of a crush he has. “It’s alright. Let’s just… get back home.”

If she weren’t so ready to fall into bed, she might try to pry more information out of him, but the door to their room is in sight and her exhaustion hits her anew.

Tomorrow, she’ll see if she can play matchmaker. Right now: sleep.

[foxgloveinspace]

@thoseeyeslikefire @absentviolet @kyloreno-911 (if anyone else wants to be tagged in my knitting updates and wants to tag me/us in their knitting updates just shoot me an ask!! And I'll try to remember to do so! Also If I'm supposed to be tagging you and I'm not, just tell me please!)

This is a long one!! And It's in the middle of the week cause I was waiting for yesterday, cause I got a little yarn haul, and then I was super excited and cast on with some of the yarn lmao.

I'm talking a lot about knitting plans today too, along with some of my w.i.p.s.

Firstly, my halloween/skulls cardigan is on hold for the moment, just cause I don't have enough yarn to finish it. I am almost done with side one, and I have used two and a half skeins, and I only have two left, and I'm on row 27? I think, of 31. I think. So I'm gonna get another skein this week when we go grocery shopping, and hope that it will be enough lol.

the first pics of the post, lol. You may be going 'Fox, didn't you just finish this hat?' the answer is yes! But while i was making it, my mom fell in love with it, and so I cast on another one immediately after. I am probably gonna finish this up today, but I decided to include pics, cause I'm keeping it in this really cute halloween bag my aunt gave me.

I am not mad about making another of these hats, I love the pattern (its the Ryegate Hat), and this yarn. I am so in love with this yarn, it's the Light Weight Essential Cotton Yarn by K+C. I love it so much in fact that I think I have more knitting plans with it. In this color too, cause it will be perfect for the project I have in mind.*

next we have part of the yarn haul, lmao. I was too excited when I got new sock yarn and immediately cast on a new pair of socks. I am making A Little Hocus Pocus socks, and I am making them with Paton's Kroy Socks Yarn in the color Midnight Orchid. It reminds me a lot of the genderqueer flag, but that wasn't the reason I got the yarn lol. I honestly just saw it an fell in love with the colors, and it didn't hit me that it matches my flag until I cast it on. I just thought it looked very magical.

the second part of my yarn haul are these beautiful skeins of Fishermen's Wool from Lion's Brand, in the color oatmeal. This is also kicking off my knitting plans for the future part of the post this week. This yarn is going to be used for a Gaia Shawl, which will be my Birthday Shawl for this year. Last year I started a tradition of casting on a shawl on my birthday, I made a Campfire Cozy shawl, and I knit on it during November and December and then I lived in it in January and February. I'm very excited to have a new shawl in the family tbh, even though I mostly wear them around the house. I don't know if this one will take me as long, and the Campfire Cozy has SO many textures, and the 'lace' portion was so complicated I started it over at least twice. I was also watching The Musketeers while knitting that lol, so that didn't help my concentration.

But because I can't cast that on until the 26th, I'm going to be picking back up my pass the honey cardigan, its been off to the side for a couple months now. I think I was just frustrated with it tbh. I like it a lot, but it was going to be a gift, and now it's just...... Here. And while I do like it a lot, I also feel a bit guilty about it?? Cause I tried so hard to make something my sister will enjoy wearing, and I couldn't find it at all. Very sad about that. But I do want to finish it, and I also think I have an idea about something I could make her in the future. But yes, I do want to finish that cause I think it will be great to wear in January.

*And Lastly, going back to the Light Weight Essential Cotton Yarn by K+C, Next month, a sweater pattern from the.creabea (Rebecca) called the Stick Season sweater will be coming out. And I am head over heels in love with this sweater. So I am going to be knitting it in the same yarn as the hats I've been making (both cause I have some left over, and because I think it will be amazing in this yarn). She also just has some absolutely beautiful knitting patterns, and I want to knit her patterns that are coming out for advent season this year too. I think her other sweater pattern that just came out, the Alder Sweater, is absolutely beautiful, but I am very intimidated by it, lol. Maybe one day I'll give it a try.

And that's it from me this week! Thanks for reading if you made it to the end, happy knitting and crocheting y'all!

[clotpolesonly]

Let Your Heart Be Light

for @sapphireginger and the Stiles Shipping Central monthly ficlet exchange!! apparently all of my Stallison fics are just going to be unrelentingly sappy and there’s nothing i can do to stop it, hope you don’t mind XD

| Stallison | Gen | 1.5k | Established Relationship | Polish Stiles | Christmas | Fluff | Family Feels |

(also on AO3)

.

It was snowing like crazy, but Allison hesitated on the stoop of Dobroniega Gajos’s home. Stiles turned back to frown at her; she had told him over and over again that she was built for warmer climates and would spend no unnecessary time in the open air if she could help it. Her nose and cheeks were bright pink, where her scarf wasn’t pulled up to cover them and the silly earflaps of her hat didn’t reach low enough, but still, she hesitated.

“You okay, alley-cat?” Stiles asked.

She dragged her eyes away from the door. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…”

Stiles took her mittened hand in his. “She won’t bite, I promise. She’s had me talking her ear off about you for the last month and she can’t wait to meet you.”

“No pressure.”

“She will love you.” He brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it, getting yarn fuzz in his mouth and not even caring. “Almost as much as I do.”

Allison’s concerned moue melted into a soft smile and she let him push the door open. Warmth billowed out to meet them, carrying with it the smell of cloves and beetroot. The small house was filled with people, only a handful of whom Stiles was actually familiar with. It had been years since he’d last visited his grandmother instead of her coming to the States. These were his cousins, he thought, or second-cousins. There was an aunt or two here somewhere and some niblings once- or twice-removed. They were all related somehow.

They all seemed to know him better than he knew them, at least, because everyone in sight swarmed in to greet him and hug him and kiss him on both cheeks. He let them, laughing and pretending he remembered any of their names, and it brought back a rush of memories. They used to come every year for Christmas back when he was a kid, when his mom was still alive. Those visits were a blur of coziness and cheer and the overwhelming feeling of family.

It took some doing to make it back to Allison’s side. She was smiling at a pair of maybe-cousins, letting them chat her ear off even though she probably could only understand every other word through their strong accents, but Stiles knew her well enough to see that it wasn’t an easy smile. She brightened up a bit when he wrapped his arm around her waist, and brightened even more when he proved more successful at understanding and participating in the conversation.

Stiles only had a minute to wonder what was wrong before a booming voice called out, “Tygrysek! Mój skarb!”

Stiles grimaced but turned to accept an all-encompassing hug from his grandmother. “Babciu, that name is so embarrassing.”

“Which one?” Allison asked, mouth quirking up already. “Embarrassing how?”

“Tygryseki,” Stiles grumbled. “It means—”

“Baby tiger,” his babcia finished, reaching up to pinch his cheeks with absolutely no remorse. “My ferocious little one, always sneaking, ready to pounce on someone unsuspecting.”

Allison covered her mouth with her hand, trying and failing to hide a snorting laugh. She sobered up when Babcia turned to her, but she didn’t have time to be nervous. Without hesitation, Babcia was hugging her too. Fiercely. For such a small woman—she barely came up to Stiles’ shoulder—Dobroniega Gajos was a force to be reckoned with.

She pulled back to hold Allison’s face in her hands. “Welcome to the family, moja droga.”

Allison looked a little dazed. “Happy to be here,” she said helplessly. She received a kiss on both cheeks before Babcia was off, making the rounds of all her guests like the matriarch that she was. Allison watched her go.

Stiles nudged her. “Are you?” he asked quietly. “Happy to be here? You look a little—”

“She’s really nice,” Allison cut in, another one of those tight smiles on her face but her hand tight on his arm.

“Allison.”

Her smile dimmed, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes darted around the festive crowd, almost two dozen people all talking and laughing and making merry.

Stiles took her by the hand. He tugged her through the crowd until he found a guest bedroom—there was a suitcase open on the bed, but the room was empty currently, so he didn’t see the harm in borrowing it from its occupant for a minute or two—and she didn’t resist as he pulled her inside. She accepted a soft kiss.

“Now, what’s wrong?”

Allison looked like she might deny it one more time. Then, eyes glassy, she laughed.

“It’s so stupid,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong, I swear, it’s just— It’s really lovely here. Such a big happy family full of holiday cheer. It’s straight off a postcard, honestly.”

“But?”

“But…” She sniffed. “I don’t know, I guess it just hit me that I never had this. Anything like this, really. My family was just me and my parents, and sometimes…” She swallowed around the two names she never said anymore. Stiles let her. “And we were always moving around, lots of rental homes and stock furniture. And my mom wasn’t exactly the warm and cheery kind, you know?”

A stricken look passed over her face, just for a moment, and Stiles knew what she was thinking. That it was an insult to her mother’s memory to acknowledge the strictness of her, the utilitarian way she had operated, as if that made her less of a mother or meant that Allison had loved her less. He kissed the look off her face before she could get caught in that spiral.

“Loving the people you’re with doesn’t automatically make holidays great,” he said, thinking of the years after he’d lost his mom. Just him and his dad and a plastic table-top tree, store-bought turkey and football on the television. He’d loved his dad, but it hadn’t been fun, and it hadn’t been what he’d wanted.

Allison let out a shuddering sigh that she tried to turn into a laugh. “I guess I just watched too many Hallmark movies as a kid. Set my expectations way too high. I knew I was never going to have that big, loving family. I was always going to be disappointed.”

Stiles brushed Allison’s hair behind her ear. “But you do.”

She looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Do what?”

“You have that. The big, loving family,” he said. “Because you’re my family, and that means that mine is yours. Every single person in this house is your family now. Whether you want them or not, honestly, because my grandmother is not gonna let you walk out of here without some kind of homemade knitwear and a personalized cross-stitch. She asked me for your favorite colors weeks ago. I told her tangerine.”

A laugh burst out of Allison, startled and incredulous. It shook a tear loose. Stiles’ wiped it away. She grabbed his hand before he could take it away.

“I hate orange,” she said through a helpless smile.

“I know.”

“You’re the absolute worst. I hate you so much.”

Stiles stole another kiss, grinning against her lips. “I love you too, serduszko.”

Allison wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’s that one mean?”

“Old hag, but, like, fondly.”

“Shut up, it does not.”

“Would I lie to you?”

She buried her face in his chest, giggles overtaking her. Stiles was more than happy to let her laugh, pressing his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. His heart was so full he worried it might explode all over the lacy tchotchkes on the bedside table. He hoped whichever aunt was sleeping here wouldn’t mind him getting happiness goo all up in her open suitcase.

They were quiet for a minute, just settling into the embrace. Through the closed door, the chatter of a houseful of people washed over them. Somebody had decided to start caroling early. They weren’t very good at it, but they sounded like they were having a great time anyway. Allison’s thumb rubbed circles on Stiles’ side, shirt rucked up just a little so she could feel the warmth of his skin.

“Did your grandma really make me a cross-stitch?” she asked eventually, sounding small.

Stiles smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “She makes them for all her grandkids. Mine is, unsurprisingly, a tiger.”

He could practically feel Allison’s dimple against his shoulder. “What’s mine, do you know?”

“It’s a quiver full of flowers. And, no, I did not actually tell her to make it tangerine. It is in lovely shades of your actual favorite color, which is purple. You’re welcome.”

Allison pulled back to beam at him, all traces of sadness gone from her face. She was radiant in her happiness, exactly how Stiles liked her best. He kissed her until somebody knocked on the door to announce that they’d seen the first star and dinner was served.

Stiles took Allison’s hand once more. “Come on, then” he said. “Let’s go make you some new memories.”

.

the polish bits defined:

tygrysek = baby tiger mój skarb = my treasure, darling babcia = grandmother babciu = grandmother, affectionate address moja droga (to a female) = my dear serduszko = sweetheart

[g0sts]

Guillermo, salmon, coconut, death 🥥

jamie u MENACE droppin all three ask memes at once, come over rq i just wanna talk (talking is code for fist-fighting you on behalf of how long this is gonna be)

(from this ask meme, this other ask meme, and this third one!)

first up Let's Talk About Gyemmo!

My favorite thing about him - he's Nice, sort of, when it benefits him, but he's definitely not A Good Person. he's just like me in that he's got that baby-faced Charm combined with a polite disposition that enamors people to him, but he's ruthless. he's just sweet about it. only this bitch can give up almost everything in his life in pursuit of pure selfishness and then struggle to accept that there's consequences ♥

My least favorite thing about him - mans has got to stop Leaving For Good For Realsies This Time at least once a season (twice in season two!!), he's gonna be the boy who cried Gone For Ever ('whale eyes at the coming finale but pretending i don't see it' voice)

My favorite canon relationship - you know im a nandermo bitch. they make each other worse and they might just turn out better for it. it's like watching two dogs who both want to play but are both just doing the little bow thing bc neither dog is taking the bait to chase so they're just whimpering and pawing at each other thinking "why doesn't he wanna [redacted] 🥺" it's pathetic, sort your shit out guys

My favorite non-canon relationship - That Year In London With Nadja. they never showed it to us but we all know it happened. they did mani-pedis and nearly killed each other multiple times and then she hired him as her accountant

The sexuality I headcanon for him - baby boy canonically gay and that's such a win ♥ i do hc him as trans but you knoowwwww that's some juicy little projection i like to do~

What I’d do if I could spend the day with him - in all honesty i do not anticipate that we would get along! like if i'm lucky he lures me home to be dinner but probably we would end up somewhere with a line unable to surpass our own giant social walls enough to do anything Cool. like, ok. is this pre s5? if i watch someone take a fork and knife to a burger i am Leaving Immediately

Random fact about him I like - the little snippets we get about his family life and what he gets up to off-camera. tell us more about the meat dress for your cousin's quinceañera!! u freaque, gimme more of this shit!! i'm obsessed!!

OK WE MADE IT LET'S GOOO

Salmon: How many pairs of sunglasses do I own? triangles, tiny shades, blurple circle shades, alien circle shades, ghosts, cat circle shades, and i think i still have the coral foldable shades but i haven't seen em in a while? so 6 or 7. for now.

Coconut: A subject I enjoy learning about crafting historyyyy how shit's madeeee show me the machinesss show me vintage vintage patterns, show me how vikings made yarn and then make a scarf out of it

AND LASTLY

Death: 3 things I wanna do before I die 1) go to New York City 2) get a tattoo 3) i wanna get married 👉👈 specifically i am holding out hope that i can connect with someone and forge that level of love trust and commitment that makes you decide "yeah this is a Forever thing" even if Marriage Specifically isn't on the table for whatever reason. thot i had it once! so i can get there again! just gotta do the hard part and meet the right person, which includes meeting a lot of Not the right people 🤷‍♂️

[morimementa]

I’ve been rereading the sample. Can I have more of the Detective Void? Please?

I can post the first part right now! Message me when you want more and I'll post the next part! Word of warning, the story's not done yet. I'm working on it, but it might take a while.

TW: Mpreg, pregnancy, mild body horror (Body squick?).

 You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly you stopped being a person. It was probably around the time you realized the dolls you made could come to life and you could turn anything to yarn just by stabbing it with a knitting needle. Frightened and excited at the impossible things happening, you’d hidden away any proof of it, and tried to work out the secrets of your gift yourself. You didn’t realize they’d put a target on your back and a timer above your head. It was only a matter of time before the Laboratory caught up with you.

You’d been captured by them eight years ago, given an experiment designation instead of your name and kept in captivity. It wasn’t till a fateful security breach that you’d managed to escape. After fighting your way out of their clutches, you’d gotten back to civilization and worked to rebuild your life. As much as you wanted to go back to being just another somebody, it wasn’t in the cards. You couldn’t rest knowing how much was out there, and how little was being done about it. So, you’d decided to use your powers to forge a new path for yourself.

And oh, how you charged down that path. You worked to contain anomalies and to ensure no one else suffered as you had. You willingly walked the razor’s edge, knowing that the next encounter could mean death. Or worse. You’d come to learn that there were far more terrifying fates than oblivion. All you could do was handle every day as it came, keep striving forward, and not look too closely at shadows.

Your job ended up taking you on a curious investigation. The cities of *Data Expunged* had been inundated by giant Stork sightings. That by itself would be unusual, but there was more to it than that. Little did any of the witnesses know that the creature was far more troublesome than an ordinary bird. The eight-foot-tall Stork visited men, seemingly at random and attacked them, leaving a puncture wound on their stomachs. Worse than the physical injury was what came after. The victim would then incubate and birth a baby Stork, all within the span of an hour or two.

So far, the creature’s victims had a 100% survival rate; rare enough in this brutal world, and safe enough to keep it a low priority of whatever shadowy government organization took care of such matters. You on the other hand, had plenty of time to send it back to whatever godforsaken part of the universe it came from.

You’d begun by helping the latest victim. An ordinary salary man, he’d been assaulted on his walk to work. You’d helped him through the uncomfortable pregnancy and agonizing birth and then shoved the chick in a cage to be collected by The Foundation. The man had asked only one thing of you once you’d helped him deliver the monstrous offspring.

“Make me forget.”

You’d been all too glad to administer some of your amnestic. It wasn’t much, but at least you could alleviate any lingering trauma. After that, you’d resolved to stop the creature before it struck again. What you hadn’t realized was that you weren’t the only one who’d made that resolution.

Among your many skills was your ability to produce useful anomalous objects. Your handsewn teddy bear for instance, acted as a bloodhound for sensing anomalous beings. You let it guide you through a row of unsold houses, into a backyard. There it pointed at the abandoned shed sitting in the right hand corner of the yard. Much to your surprise, it had indicated there was a second anomaly inside as well. You patted it on the head to thank it, then let it slip back into the oversized bag you carried.

You pulled the pair of your longest size ten needles out. Two anomalies in one place could mean they were coming to blows or that they were in cahoots. Whatever the case, you were prepared for a fight. You snuck up to the shed, careful not to alert them with a creak of the wooden ramp. You could already hear rustling and thumping emanating from the cracked door. No voices, at least, no human ones. You crouched by the door and took a peek inside. You were shocked by what you saw.  

In the center of the room was the stork. Now that you saw it up close, it was nothing short of unnerving. At eight feet tall, it towered over you. As it turned, you saw its long pointed beak. Its pink and blue gradient wings might have been pretty under different circumstances. Right now, those wings fluttered indignantly, puffing up in a warning. Looking closer, you saw what it was angry about.

The stork was trapped where it stood; it was encircled by a ring of runes painted on the floor. You squinted against the unnatural light they produced. The creature thrashed and struck at the barrier they’d made, hissing like an angry Goose. Indifferent to its anger, its captor stood off to the side. He was a man in a button up shirt and black trousers. The only unusual part of his appearance was the dark gray mask with eye holes that glowed with the same energy as the runes.

As soon as you saw the mask, it clicked.  It was none other than Detective Void. You’d heard through the grapevine that he was an investigator of the supernatural. Neither Foundation personnel nor Chaos Insurgent, he conducted his own work in secret, able to elude any interested parties. As relieved as you were to not find SCP agents, you couldn’t help but wonder if he intended to terminate the entity or use it for his own purposes.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a creaking noise. The Stork had begun pounding at the floor. It was slamming its feet onto the wood with surprising strength. Through the dust it’d kicked up, you realized the light of the runes had started flickering. Your heart sunk into your shoes as you realized what was going on. The shed’s floor was old and unstable. If it managed to put even a crack in one of the painted boards, it could break the circle and escape!

The detective seemed to have noticed too. He pulled a curved dagger out from behind his back and assumed a fighting stance. The bird seemed all too eager for a fight. It ran its long talons down the floor, a glint in its eyes. You had no choice but to throw your own hat in the ring. As the floorboard gave with a loud crack, you flung the door open.

Leaping forward, you sent your size tens flying into the air. The stork blocked with one massive wing, but couldn’t completely save itself. You succeeded in turning a few of the feathers. They unraveled, becoming strands of pastel yarn. It turned to glare at you, undoing your work with a flap of its wing. You’d gotten its attention. Good.

 Pouncing on the creature, you conjured more needles, stabbing with impunity. The hissing grew louder as you unraveled more and more of it. You knew it could heal, but if you worked fast enough, you could turn all of it before it could fix itself. You worked to pin down its left wing, leaving one hand free to strike.

Detective Void had apparently had a similar idea. He slashed at the wing that reached for him, clipping it with a single swipe. He didn’t seem to notice you, so intent was he on finishing the job. The stork managed to buck you off, spinning to deliver a strong kick to your sternum. Taking a chance, Void flung the dagger, hitting the stork in the upper wing. It squawked indignantly. Even with its healing factor, he had still landed a critical hit.  You conjured the largest needle you could and prepared to strike it right in the heart.

You crept a few inches closer and raised the needle above your head.

A screech like steel nails gouging a chalkboard filled the shed. You were knocked off balance, overcome by the urge to stuff your ears with cotton. Get out of my way, it said, don’t interfere with my mission.

A wing flew out and threw you against the wall. You hit hard enough to crack the wood paneling and landed in a heap. Dazed and bloodied, you tried to stand. You couldn’t quite gain your footing again and in the interim, it had begun to target Detective Void.

The blood dripping from your forehead had blinded one eye and the fear was starting to seep into your bones. The stork was stronger than you’d assumed. If the both of you couldn’t take it on…

 No! You’d never let fear stop you before, and certainly not when someone’s life was in danger. You had to fight, lest it kill you both.  More needles sailed across the shed, some making contact, some bouncing off the walls harmlessly. You realized with horror that neither of your efforts would be enough.

“Are you ok?” You heard a man’s voice. Detective Void had noticed you and was still parrying the monster’s attempts to grab him. He blocked the creature’s limbs, knocking them away with blow after blow. It had started ignoring you, bent on ensnaring its new quarry You saw a second hilt on his back, this one with the dagger still in it. He grabbed it and took another swipe at the wings. “Hang on, I’m going to-.”

Another scream ripped through the air. You cringed, covering your ears in a feeble attempt to block the sound. Your brain felt like it was going to leak out your nose. Oddly enough, it had a different effect on Detective Void. You wiped the blood from your eye and watched as his arms fell to his sides and he dropped his weapon. The stork encircled him with one wing, pulling him closer in a motion that was almost intimate.

Oh, no.  It wasn’t trying to kill him; it had chosen him!

You lunged in one last desperate attempt to stop it-.

The room spun, sending you to the floor. The last thing you saw before you passed out was the oversized bird descending on the detective.

The smell of magic and musty wood brought you around and reminded you where you were. Frustration overcame you as you realized the creature had escaped. You cursed both your incompetence and the being’s skill. It had been a while since you’d had so much trouble. You’d known it was only a matter of time before you went up against something stronger than you, but you hadn’t expected it to be such a dismal failure. You touched the scrape on your forehead and a threaded sewing needle appeared, stitching up the wound before vanishing. After a few seconds the stitches disappeared, taking your injury with them. At least you healed fast. But could you say the same for him?

 As you stood, you realized Detective Void still lay on the floor. He was on his back, head lolled to the side. His formally pristine shirt now had a large gash in it. The blood froze in your veins. You’d seen that same tear in the clothes of the entity’s last victim and you knew what it meant.

You hurried over, dreading what you would find, praying that you were wrong.  Sure enough, as you brushed the shredded fabric aside you could see a large purple bruise and smaller puncture wound on the detective’s abdomen.

You fell back on your haunches and swore a blue streak as the implications of what had happened hit you. You conjured a needle and began scraping at the floor out of sheer frustration. As you left huge grooves in the wood, you berated yourself. You hadn’t even known anyone else was after this anomaly and you should have. Should have been sharper, more aware of your surroundings. If only you’d been able to stop it when you had the chance! You were getting sloppy, screwing up-.

If you weren’t more careful, they’d find you, they’d lock you up again...

You sent a needle flying toward the only other thing in the shed; the can of paint Void had used to make the entrapment circle. It pierced the can on impact, rendering it and its contents a tangle of yarn. You shut your eyes to block out the scene and touched the wood beneath you, working to ground yourself. Now that you’d blown off a little steam, it was easier to regain your focus. You’d been too late to assist him with the capture. You hadn’t been able to kill it. All you could do now was assist him with the birth. You just hoped he’d be willing to accept your help.

[sandolier]

Take the Thread (i'm coming undone) {1}

pairing: f!reader x ateez f!reader x Seokjin rating: 18+ genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 5k warnings: mentions of (emotional abuse, stalking, kidnapping), reader deals with anxiety summary: When you decided to attend a market in a far off, country town, you didn't expect to get stranded on the way back. You also never expected to run into a group of friends with their own tiny house community. And while at first it seemed fantastic, things aren't always as they seem as you slowly uncover more and more secrets. But is it too late for you to leave?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For such a small town market, it was surprisingly busy. But maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise. The smaller the town, the more likely people were to support smaller businesses after all. And that held true as the makeshift aisles between the popup tables with temporary tents propped over them were crowded with more people than you would’ve assumed lived in town. 

Or maybe it was everyone in town. It didn’t seem like there was a lot to do here. The nearest city was a good two-hour drive. And that was a drive you wouldn’t have made of your own free will unless you had found literally any other market to sell this weekend. A drive you were pretty sure that most people wouldn’t end up making out here unless it was for a special occasion. 

But you weren’t going to complain, already having sold more than enough to cover the table fee and gas to and from. It was another surprise to see how willing the people here were to spend on your skeins of yarn and woven goods. Maybe they were swayed by the sight of you at your spinning wheel in between customers, an authenticity added to your booth that you had long ago picked up from your second attempt at selling your goods. 

It was a pain to pack up your spinning wheel, but it allowed you to sell at least twice as much as if you didn’t bring it. And it helped kill time between people, especially as the day waned and fewer and fewer people would show up.

There was a simple pleasure in the rhythm of your foot on the treadle, the soft hum of the wheel and flyer. The twist slowly climbed up the yarn only eased as you drafted more wool for it to climb out of. The entire thing a waltz between you and this simple machine. One that had made you fall in love with fiber arts in the first place. 

“So is that just for show, then?” 

You jumped, losing the rhythm of the treadle and causing the wheel to suddenly stop. A man stood at your booth, about average height but that was the only thing that seemed average about him. His hair was dyed a soft pink, slightly long and swept back from his face. His face looked cut from marble, angular cheekbones offset by how kind his eyes looked and the slight smile playing across his lips. A silent apology for scaring you. 

He pointed at the loom you had set up just on the other side of your spinning wheel. While not your first choice of things to occupy your time while vending, it was a nice change of pace when you felt like you just couldn’t be at your wheel for a second longer. 

“Ah, right. Yeah, you caught me. It’s just a decoration to make people think I made any of my woven pieces.” You barely bit back a laugh at that. Really, warping up the scarf you had on there was 90% of the work. One that you absolutely would rather avoid doing if you could. 

The man seemed to have caught the joke, his smile growing wider. “Well, at least you admit it. Shame though, I would’ve really liked to buy that scarf when it’s finished.” 

“Feel free to take one of my business cards. My Etsy shop is on there and it’ll be posted when it’s done.” It wasn’t often you had someone interested in something you were currently working on, let alone something on your loom. That was harder to grasp what it would eventually be unlike seeing the pretty colors you were spinning into a straightforward yarn. 

He took one of your cards, turning it over in his hands as he studied it. “So are you not from around here, y/n?” 

You shook your head, giving your wheel a soft spin to start it back up again. “Live in the city. Heard good things about this market and decided to come out.” There was something about him knowing your name that seemed dangerous. 

That really should have pretty much been the end of the conversation. And most people would’ve taken the cue that unless they were buying something, you weren’t going to talk about your personal life. The question was prying, something about it setting off a red flag. But maybe he was just trying to figure out if he could find you at another market nearby and avoid buying off of Etsy. 

Still, he hadn’t moved. Hovering just at your periphery, you tried to focus on the bright pinks and purples slowly twisting onto your spool. Maybe he had just decided to watch you spin. It wasn’t that unusual. You tried to let the tension leave your shoulders as you continued on. He was just making small talk, nothing more. Not everyone was like him, you tried to remind yourself. Not every man who asked you questions would end up in a police report. 

“Is that hard?” 

By the time he spoke again, you had almost convinced yourself that he had left. And it wasn’t his fault that he asked the one question that you found most annoying. But you wished, more than anything now, that he would just leave. 

“Depends on what you mean by hard.” You tried to keep your voice light and friendly. Tried to not let the irritation slide into your tone. “It can be hard to get the hang of at first but it’s second nature to me now. If you wanted to try I have some drop spindles and wool bundles for sale too.” 

You could see him move over to that section of the table, examining the packages of the wooden spindles and small tufts of wool. Most people who bought them would try them once or twice and get frustrated and give up. As you said, it took a little trial and error to figure it out. 

“Are these on your Etsy as well?” 

“Yup.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds, hand fidgeting with the package before setting it down. “Maybe I’ll pick one up when I buy that scarf.” 

You felt bad for a moment. He was trying to be friendly and here you were being standoffish towards him. It wasn’t his fault that he reminded you of him. This time you returned his smile genuinely, an apology for the cold attitude from before.

“I’ll keep an eye out for your order…” 

“San.” He said, face brightening as he tucked your business card into his wallet before leaving one of his own on the table. “Choi San.” 

“Well, San, your scarf should be up on there by the end of the month.” You made a mental note to remember to grab that business card before too long, but you were just so close to finishing this spool that you really hoped you could avoid an interruption before the end. 

“I’ll look forward to seeing the final product! Have a good day, y/n.” He tapped the table lightly as he left, pink hair vanishing into the crowd. 

Not all people were like him. You reminded yourself again at the momentary surge of panic. Not all people result in police stations and lawsuits. 

You let the rest of your tension go with the last bit of wool, watching as the wheel and flyer slowly spun down as you stopped treadling. The small bit of unspun fluff of wool marking the end of the thread just spinning round and round. Deep breath in and out. Nobody was out to get you. That was a once-in-a-lifetime event. 

Not everyone was a stalker. 

Not everyone was a kidnapper. 

San’s business card was just as mysterious as the man himself. It was a matte black, red symbol that looked vaguely astronomical on the back. The front is just as vague:

San Choi Acquisitions

You couldn’t think of a single business that he could possibly be in. Maybe entertainment. Maybe a recruiter for a company. He certainly presented himself as neat and polished, poised to try to recruit someone at any moment. Or maybe acquisitions meant that he was just a buyer for a retailer. That he visited these small markets to try to find products to stock his store with. 

Still, there was no means to contact him on the card. Maybe he had two different versions of it. One with no contact information for the people he wanted to placate and one with for the people he actually wanted to contact him. And if that was the case, should you be… offended? 

Whatever the case, you were slightly jealous of the quality of the card. He obviously was very well off in whatever field he worked in. The card had some weight behind it, thick paper that really didn’t bend under a good amount of handling. You tried not to laugh as the business card scene from American Psycho played in your head, sliding the card into your bag where it will probably be forgotten. 

The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful, the anxiety seems to leave you alone for now. It had gotten so much better over the years. Therapy was the main reason you were even able to do such a public thing as selling at these markets now. For a long while, you weren’t even able to leave your house. Not until he had finally been locked up, the earliest date of release not for another 15 years. 

You didn’t want to think about how you’d react once that timer ran out. Sure you would be in your 40s by then, but would that stop someone like him? Would events spiral out of control again? Would it be worse? Would he look for revenge instead, finally taking exactly what he wanted to in the first place? 

It was no use looking that far into the future. Not now at least. You had no control of something that far out. Could do nothing but live your life for now and take each day in stride. That day will come but by then you can have more of a solid plan. Take steps to protect yourself. You weren’t as naive now. 

By the time six hit, you were more than thankful to take down your booth and pack everything away in your van. Never had you thought you would drive a minivan at any point in your life, yet here you were. Only instead of shoving a hoard of screaming kids into your car, you were shoving boxes of crafts and equipment in. Really, a minivan was just the cheapest option you could find when you started getting serious about vending and needed the space for bringing your wheel and loom along with you. 

If asked, you would say that fall is your favorite season without hesitation. You loved the chill the breeze carried on it, the promise of winter growing ever closer. Loved the multicolored trees, leaves rustling in the wind looking as if they were painted. You loved Halloween and the general reveling of all things spooky. 

But you absolutely hated how early the sun set. 

That was one thing you hadn’t accounted for when you made the last minute decision to come out to this small town. It was just shy of seven by the time you finished loading everything into your van and got ready to leave, the last traces of the sun illuminating the sky to the west, darkness well and truly falling all around. 

Part of you was tempted to just get a hotel room at the run-down holiday inn you had seen coming into town. A larger part of you longed for the comfort of your own bed despite not being able to get to it until after nine. Driving in the dark wouldn’t hurt you. And two hours wasn’t that bad. You’d driven longer before. 

You were beyond grateful for the Mcdonald's that you drove by. The fries quieted the grumbling of your stomach into something more bearable. Really, you could’ve eaten a full meal, but you’ve always hated trying to eat anything more than fries while you’re driving and you wanted to be home too bad to stay and eat there. 

Driving at night wasn’t anything new to you. Driving at night in the middle of nowhere, however, was. Despite the market closing relatively not long ago and it not being that late right now, the highway out of town was fairly abandoned. Maybe there was a better way back home that you just didn’t know about. But all things considered, you weren’t about to go adventuring in search of a shortcut. 

As it was, the dark was oppressive around your car, the road completely invisible outside the range of your headlights. Who knew what was going to be around the next bend in the road. Or even when there would be another set of headlights to break up the illusion of you just floating along a sea of black. 

Relief flooded through you when you center console it up, incoming call: jinnie<3 displayed. 

“Seokjin.” You said in greeting after answering the call. 

“Y/n.” Came his just as neutral reply, though through the years of knowing him, you could tell the barely hidden mirth in his reply. 

“How was your day?” 

“Adequate. Did you get converted to the country life?” 

“Alas, I could not resist the simple life here. I am truly in awe of the number of confederate flags and MAGA signs I have seen.” 

Seokjin was the first to break, laughing at the wistful tone you had taken while speaking of such none wistful things. “People are really still on that, huh? Thought they’d be over it by now.” 

“Honey, if they’re still holding onto the confederacy after this long what makes you think that they’d give up on a racist white guy?” You sighed. Really you wouldn’t mind living out of the city. Just going out of the city meant… all this. As if to prove your point your headlights revealed a billboard of Jesus staring down at you along the road. 

“When are you going to be home?” He asked, deciding to drop the subject that honestly just depressed both of you to talk about. You could hear the clink of pans in the background. Judging by the time, Seokjin would, of course, be cooking dinner by now. 

“About another hour and a half according to my phone.” You sighed. If teleportation was an option, you would gladly take it. There was nothing better than Seokjin’s home-cooked meals. 

“I’ll wait up for you.” He cursed under his breath as you heard a rather large clank. “Miss you.” 

“I miss yo-“ 

There was a large bang, your van suddenly veering off to one the left. You cursed, pulling your car back from the oncoming lane and towards the shoulder, telltale thudding an omen of what you were about to have to do. 

“Are you okay?” Seokjin was panicking, worry leaking through the speakers of your car. 

“Fine. Think I have a flat tire.” You groaned. Out of all places and times… What you would’ve given to have this happen not in the middle of nowhere. 

“Need me to call someone for you?” 

“No. I can change a tire…” You sighed, hitting the steering wheel. “I just really-“ 

Seokjin cut you off. “I know, I know. But you got this. What’s a flat tire to my beautiful girlfriend?” 

“Gross.” You wrinkled your nose despite the stupid grin on your face. 

“The sooner you get this taken care of the sooner you can eat this kimchi fried rice,” Seokjin said. “Call me if there’s anything wrong. Or if you just want company on the drive. Or if you miss me.” 

“If I called you every time I missed you, we’d be on the phone all day.” 

It was Seokjin’s turn to say gross this time. “Love you. Be careful. Stay safe.” 

"Love you too. See you soon.” You sighed, leaning your forehead on the steering wheel while getting the will to actually address your tire. Of all fucking times… 

Still, nothing was going to happen if you stayed here pitying yourself. You punched the hazard lights on as if you were blaming your car for this situation and reached behind your passenger seat to grab the small emergency kit you stashed there. 

Flashlight in hand, you tried looking back down the road to see what you hit, but there was nothing as far as you could see. Maybe it was a nail. Or maybe your tire was just on the verge of blowing for a while and chose this moment to do so. The entire situation seemed so much more overwhelming now that you stood on the side of the road, moving your boxes out of the way to reach the hidden compartment your flat, jack, and wrench were kept in. 

There weren’t many things you felt grateful towards your dad for. He wasn’t the best parent after your mother passed away when you were four. You weren’t entirely sure he was a good parent before then either. But you knew that afterward, he was so distant from both you and your brother that it was like you had no parent at all. Looking back, you now knew that he suffered his own trauma, but dealt with it in a way that while he wasn’t physically abusive, he was emotionally. 

But despite your numerous daddy issues, he did teach you a few useful things. How to fix a toilet. How to unclog your drains. How to change your oil. How to fix things around the house. And, most importantly right now, how to change a tire. 

One thing no one ever told you is how much harder it was in the dark. Hell, even the movies depicted car problems at night in the country as not really all that dark. But it was so dark. Like a physical beast, it hovered around you, waiting to pounce. Sounds traveled so much farther, things rustling in the trees so much more of a threat than the random opossum or bird you knew it had to be. 

But the longer you fixated on those sounds, the longer it would be until you could be back on your way home. Somehow you don’t remember getting the jack in place and raising up the car to be so difficult as it was when you were a teen. Maybe Seokjin was right about trying to get you to come to the gym with him a couple days a week. 

However, as you raised the body of your van up, you couldn’t help but notice that the exploded tire just… stayed on the ground. 

“Well. Fuck.” 

This wasn’t good. You grabbed the flashlight from where you had left it on the ground, illuminating your workspace, and lay on the ground trying to find out exactly how much damage was caused. Unfortunately for you, it didn’t take you too long to find out that the axle was snapped in half. 

You weren’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon at least. The next steps flew into order as you lowered your car back down and shoved everything back into the trunk. Go look for a towing company. Find a mechanic. Pay anything you might have made this weekend plus some towards the said mechanic. Hopefully, get home in a day or two if you’re lucky. 

Maybe you really should’ve just stayed the night at the sketchiest holiday inn you had ever seen. Because you were certain now that you had to have run over something. There was no way your tire alone would’ve caused this. Yet every time you squinted out behind you, there was absolutely nothing near the road. 

Just as you were trying to figure out which of the two towing companies you found was cheaper, a pair of headlights suddenly crept up from behind, the first car you’d seen in well over an hour. You paid it no mind, just letting the knowledge that this was, in fact, a road people actually used. Yet the large pickup slowed down and stopped just ahead of you. 

Anxiety shot through you. Nothing ever good happened to a single woman alone at night on an empty road. Maybe they were nice. Just stopping to make sure you were okay and see if they could lend a hand. Maybe they were going to kidnap you and you’d end up as a Jane Doe in a few days and true crime podcasts would be talking about your unsolved murder for years to come. Either way, you made sure to lock your doors and that you had the emergency shortcut ready on your phone. 

The man who got out of the driver's side seemed younger than you would’ve thought. Taller than you would’ve thought too, but perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised to see someone his height driving a truck that big. He sent a smile towards the driver’s seat as if to reassure whoever was there knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to see anything through the glare of the headlights. 

You rolled down your window as he approached. For some reason, you weren’t afraid of him. Something about his energy begged you to trust him. Like a puppy you’d found on the side of the road. That still didn’t mean you were going to let your guard down. Plenty of serial killers were charismatic. 

“Hey!” He said stopping next to your mirror. “Having some car trouble?” 

“Yeah.” You said, keeping a polite smile on your face. “Just about to call a tow. Got a flat tire and broken axle.” 

His brows raised, surprised by that. “That’s more than the flat tire I was hoping to lend a hand with. Any tow place is gonna charge you a fortune to drive all the way out here. Wouldn’t trust John to be sober now anyway.”

He trailed off in thought, seeming to debate with himself about something. “Look, I know you don’t know me and I don’t blame you for saying no to this, but I’m gonna ask you anyway. My pa owns the mechanic shop the town over. I live just about ten minutes away from here. Have a spare room you could stay the night at.” 

You blinked at him. He seemed earnest enough… but… “Look, sir-“ 

“Yunho.” He said smiling. “I know it’s a bit weird and you have no reason to trust I’m not gonna abduct you. To be honest, I’d be taking you to the tiny house village some friends and I have together and if that doesn’t raise red flags after watching Midsommer, I don’t know what would.” 

You laughed with him at that. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Tiny house village with friends was one of your own secret life goals. Seeing one in person might dissuade you from actually wanting to do it. And he seemed genuine enough… 

“I just don’t want to leave someone alone on the road when I can help.” He said, sensing your hesitation. “Don’t trust half the people out here farther than I can throw them. Not with all the alt-right propaganda they have spread all over.” 

You nodded. Maybe… maybe you could trust Yunho. “Are you sure?” 

“About trusting most people around here? Absolutely.” Yunho laughed. “And about getting you off the road for the night? Don’t have a doubt in my mind.” 

Maybe it was a mistake nod. Maybe you were signing your death warrant as you helped Yunho hook up your van to the back of his truck, slowly testing the tow to make sure it wouldn’t ruin either of your cars. And maybe it hadn’t been too late for you to still leave and save yourself as you climbed into the truck. But you were certain that you could trust Yunho. That you would be far safer sleeping on someone’s couch tonight and heading out in the morning than you would otherwise. 

Still, you sent Seokjin a quick text letting him know what happened. Telling him that you’d keep your location on as well and giving him a description of Yunho and a photo of his plates. If you were going to die, at least you’d get justice from the afterlife. 

“Honestly, I never thought I’d live anywhere besides a city.” Yunho was saying. He kept the chatter light as he slowly drove down the highway before turning off onto a gravel road. He was happy to basically talk to himself, not really expecting a response from you. As if he was really talking to calm both of your anxiety. 

“Hongjoong was the one who convinced us that we should do this. He inherited this plot of land from an uncle or something. And with house prices the way they are… well this was the only way any of us would be able to own something of our own, you know.” 

“Tell me about it.” You groaned. Seokjin had been talking about saving for a house for the last two years. Yet every time your savings approached a good amount for a down payment, something would happen and all that you saved up would be used to repair a car. Pay a hospital bill. Go on vacation. Just everyday things. 

“It’s actually pretty chill. Just eight of us living here permanently right now, but we have some spare houses for friends who like to visit. I’d offer one of those for you, but none of them have anything in them right now. You’d just be sleeping on the floor.” He wrinkled his nose as if the thought of that was absolutely inexcusable. 

“We have some animals and actually farm too. Never thought I’d be doing that either. Thought I’d just be at a desk working a 9 to 5 for the rest of my life.” Yunho laughed again and you were starting to grow attached to the sound of it. Maybe you’d end up with a friend after all of this. 

You smiled softly at the thought of having a farm with your friends. “Sounds like the cottage core dream.” 

“It really is,” Yunho said, a smile of his own plastered on his face. “Sometimes life throws you a curve ball and it ends up being the exact thing you needed to end up with a home run. And speaking of a home run, welcome to Wonderland.” 

You wrinkle your nose at the name. “Sounds like someone took inspiration from Neverland Ranch.” 

Yunho laughed again, pulling to a stop after turning off a side road that lead to twelve small houses. “Promise you, we’re not like that. It’s an inside joke, really. Something we started to call the place to tease Hongjoong.” 

“Uh-huh.” You laughed. “Guess I’ll take your word for it.” 

It was a short walk passed a few of the houses to a house painted in a pretty shade of blue. While all the places would count as tiny houses, they all were a bit bigger than you would’ve thought. Probably at least two bedrooms in each one. Further beyond the houses, you could see hints of the farm that Yunho had mentioned. Lights on a couple of the barns casting fences and crops in silhouette. 

“This is me. Well, us for the night I guess.” He said, suddenly awkward. Nervous as he fiddled with his key to open his door. “Sorry for any mess. I’ll get you some fresh bedding for my spare room and let you get comfortable while I heat us up a pizza.” 

Pizza. You hadn’t even thought of dinner since your tire. And at the mention of pizza, even frozen pizza, you were reminded of just how hungry you were.

Despite his warning, Yunho’s house really wasn’t a disaster. It wasn’t spotless. Just looked like someone lived there and had just come back home for a day of work. Better than half the men you’d dated before. The bedroom he led you to was just big enough for a bed and dresser. Maybe you could fit a chair in a corner if you were ambitious. But it was enough to serve its purpose of housing a friend overnight. 

And, perhaps, that was what Yunho was fast on his way to becoming. The realization hit you as the two of you sat on his couch watching one of the Thor movies. It had been a long time since someone had so seamlessly came into your life, carving out a place for themselves like it had always been there. Maybe it was fate that caused you to run into Yunho tonight.

And, maybe, you were just a little less frustrated with the whole situation as you fell asleep just as Thor ran into Jane. 

[theangryjikooker]

what’s your thoughts about those recent matching rings? I’m a convinced jikooker and i don’t get what all the fuss is about?. It’s not the first time they have matching rings, and it was part of an official content so I guess that’s why I’m a bit meh about it. If we see them wearing those bands again in the future I may change my mind about it. I feel like your blog and another one I follow are the only ones I truly enjoy reading btw, I feel so out of place in jikookers spaces..

Well.

There was definitely some coordination at work with OT7′s outfits. One also has to assume that accessory selection plays a part in it. Yes, it’s been shown here and there that the boys get input in their stylings, but it’s good to remember that they’re in “work mode,” and the director almost always has the final say. Not saying this is the case here, but this is always in the back of my mind.

Now, when it comes to the members, some get paired a lot more than others. Jikook are often wearing things that complement each other. And while I think that’s developed into something intentional, I also think that production teams are aware that their visuals play off each other really well. (Is there another unsaid reason why this happens? There are certainly shippers who consider that angle, but I’m not one of them.)

Just as an example, if you want something to be visually striking, you wouldn’t put two rounds together; instead, you’ll work with round/sharp or round/round/sharp, or sharp/round/sharp. (There’s no meaning to round/sharp, but these are just easy shapes to visualize.)

In a professional setting, this is kind of what I see happening with Jikook. Sure, someone could say that they have full autonomy in what they’re wearing, and it’s Jikook’s choice to match, but this is one of many instances where I don’t think this is happening. The moments where they’re matching and they don’t need to be (e.g., rehearsals), I do think that it’s their choice to do so (but whether they’re intentionally matching because it’s a couple thing to do or just have similar tastes, etc. is a whole other yarn to unravel, which I won’t get into).

Why did I say all of that, which doesn’t address your question? It’s just to give you a background on why my answer is the way it is.

So, yes, the gold rings look good on them, but I’m not going to scream, “They’re dating!” because it’s not enough to go on. 

However, I do think it’s interesting that they’re wearing it on the same finger. Could be coincidental, could be that they just like how that particular style of ring looks on that finger (if you’re a habitual ring wearer and like to accessorize with them, you know what that’s like)–the possibilities are endless. But for me, personally, I’ll indulge in that detail. There are two other instances (off the top of my head, sorry I don’t obsessively keep tabs on everything, but the Jkkr community police seem to think that knowing everything is critical to having an opinion 😱) where Jikook are wearing matching rings, and they’ve worn it on the same finger both times (one on their other ring finger, and the other time on their index finger). A Jkkr who can remember everything might be able to provide even more examples, in which case it’s furthering the point. If someone wants to bold and underline it, find other members who were given matching rings to wear, and see if they’re also doing that. I could do it myself, but I don’t really care enough about this to pursue that train lol. If other members are, this Jikook observation falls apart, but if they don’t... worth a thought. (Yes, I’m aware that some of the members will share things... that’s a different rabbit hole, and I’m already deep into one right now.)

I can’t make any conclusive statements, but as pointless a detail as it is, it’s fascinating to me that that ends up happening. If this has happened more than three times, I’m willing to at least entertain the idea that Jikook are doing it on purpose. But why, I can only postulate.

(By the way, thank you, anon! If, on the off chance, you’d like to share this other blog you read, I would like to take a look for myself.)