#i keep trying different yarns and different patterns and it doesn’t matter how much i like one or the other

[seer-cant-knit]

patterns in my ravelry library: 547

skeins of lovely yarn in my stash, of various weight/yardage: 609

combinations that will actually get made this month and feel exactly right enough to make my brain want to do more of the thing without feeling mildly frustrated the whole time: 0 prob idk anymore

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | ii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You do your best to avoid him for as long as you can. 

You show up at the factory each day, diligent and focused on your work. You thread, dye and sew miles upon miles of fabric. It’s exhausting and repetitive but assists you well in burying the peculiar encounter. And if sometimes a particular shade of blue fabric stir memories of eyes you’d rather forget…you ignore that as well. It’s better that way. You narrowly escaped imprisonment, perhaps even death. No need to tempt fate once again. 

But it’s no matter. 

Because fate finds you anyway. 

It happens as the end of your shift at the factory comes near. Your cold-bitten digits are interweaving two different colors of thread on a gigantic wooden loom. Same as the girls and boys surrounding you. They’re all quick and efficient, threading and weaving with the ease of practice. A lifetime of it. Some of them are as young as five years old. There’s a saying floating around the districts.

If one can walk, they can work. 

You often wondered if that same logic applies to the Capitol’s children. Are they too expected to work until their fingers are numb with pain and their eyes red-rimmed with fatigue?

You somehow doubt it. 

Once again, the weight of someone’s attention blankets your shoulders. You tense, the needle nicking your fingertip when your attention falters. 

You curse and swipe away the blood beading on your finger.

Your head rises. 

Anger simmers inside you at the sight of the smug face smirking at you from across the room. 

Coriolanus. 

He showed up one hour ago, switching places with another guard, and proceeded to stare at you since.

Dread pools in your gut. His gaze hasn’t strayed from you once.

What could the peacekeeper possibly want from you?

You have nothing, and it’s obvious he’s some rich kid from the Capitol who somehow found his way here.

“Your yarn is coming loose.” 

Yara’s frenzied tone wrenches you away from your thoughts. 

You look down, your forehead scrunching as you do. She’s right. The threads have broken out of their pattern, forming disgraceful zigzags over the loom.

Besides, there’s a minuscule crimson stain on the fabric. The pristine beige cloth is now ruined. This will come out of your pay.

Your ire grows. Your gaze narrows as it finds Coriolanus’.  This is all his fault. He distracted you. Annoyance at the strange peacekeeper gleams inside you.

You bolt up from your stool.

“I have to go,” you announce, already gathering your satchel from the floor.

Yara’s eyes round.  “Our shift’s not over yet,” she whispers below her breath, tossing wary glances at the guards. Your frown deepens. Any slight sign of disobedience could be seen as a hint of rebellion these days. It’s how much the Capitol wants to avoid a return to the Dark Days.

You smile at her in reassurance.

Yara was kind enough to show you the ropes when you started working at the textile factory. She even stayed late at night with you to teach you the most complex needlepoints.

Fidgeting, you apologize, “I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. I’ve ruined it anyway.”

You don’t stick around for her response, rushing towards the nearest corridor to slip away.

A deep, teasing lilt echoes behind you in the hallway.

“Still trying to fly away from me, huh?”

Your heart leaps. Not again. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you chide as you keep hastening across the hallway. It doesn’t matter though. A stolen glimpse at your back reveals to you that Coriolanus’ long legs easily maintain pace with your frantic strides.

You unleash a weary sigh. 

“I shouldn’t but I am, pretty bird.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and it infuriates you more.

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus-”

A sharp breath ripples through your throat as warm fingers suddenly clasp around your arm.

“What are you…”

The large hand that drapes over your mouth quiets your budding protest.

Ignoring your muffled shouts, he pulls you flush against his frame and drags you into a dark room inside another hallway.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you grab at anything you can. He’s undeterred by your feistiness, only unhanding you once he’s slammed the door shut.

A chill dances on your spine  as every deadbolt is meticulously slid into place by him.

Leaning back against the locked door, Coriolanus’s eyes drag over you. He drinks you in for a while as you retreat, as far away from him as the small room allows.

Uncrossing his arms, the blonde starts inching towards you.

Your nerves flare up at his impending proximity. A heavy sigh drops from his chest.

“Why do you make that face when I’m only trying to help you?”

“I don’t want any help from you. I want nothing from you,” you shout. 

He tilts his head, closing the distance. He shoves his hand in his pocket, seeming to search for something. You freeze. 

Shock rocks through you when he conjures a familiar vial, shaking it in front of your face. 

“Hm, Are you sure?” he taunts. 

The urge to steal it from him has your fingertips tingling. But you tried that before, and it didn’t work in your favor. So you snuff out the impulse.

“How did you find out?”

“I have my ways.”

You search his stark cobalt orbs. They give nothing away.

“I just want to take care of you,” he adds.

“Why?”

You startle as his long fingers creep under your chin. You didn’t realize how close he’d gotten, now bending over you so you’re at eye-level.

“Because I can. I could make your life easier.”

His tender inflection, oddly intimate, makes discomfort pool in your stomach.

“I don’t need…”

“Take it.”

As you do nothing to take the bottle he holds up in his fist, Coriolanus exhales wearily.

You gasp when he shoves the vial between your trembling palms.

“Don’t be stupid,” he admonishes. “That cousin of yours won’t make it through winter without these. They’re antibiotics.”

You stare down at the amber bottle. Your shoulders slump. You hate to admit it but he’s probably right. Tilly’s coughing fits are progressively getting worse. She can hardly breathe properly most days. It hurts to see and you’ve been praying for a way to help her. 

And now you have that way. Is it even fair to Tilly to turn his help down because of your own personal hang ups with the peacekeeper? 

His motives elude you but you’re not sure it matters at that moment. 

Tilly’s life is on the line. 

Your fingers squeeze around the vial.

“I know what they are. It’s written on the bottle.”

Interest springs in his cobalt gaze.

“You can read? Interesting,” he hums. “Most people can’t in the districts.”

Your cheeks heat at his assumption. A respectable amount of people in the districts can in fact read. Not the majority, but a few at least. The knowledge just isn’t widespread enough and schools are a luxury most districts cannot afford.

“My grandmother taught me when I was young,” you defend.

He pauses, studying your defiant features. 

His hand wraps around your hand holding the bottle. You try not to shrink, afraid he’ll take it back.

His thumb sweeps over your knuckles.

“These are very rare and hard to get. Don’t let your pride get in the way, pretty bird.”

“I won’t,” you mumble. 

Another bag materializes before you. Coriolanus nudges it in your arms before you can think to protest. “Take that too.”

You glare at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Food, water, supplies.”

Grounded in disbelief, you peer inside the bag. Your jaw hangs slack. He wasn’t lying. The bag is brimming with rations. There’s even a few slices of bread and cheese on top. This has to be worth at least a hundred coins.

You purse your lips. “I can’t accept…I have nothing to repay you.”

Corolianus sighs, keeping the bag in your hands with his steely grip as you attempt to return it.

“Then just remember you live because of me,” he says. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips. “That’s the only payment I require.”

You snort. It can’t possibly be that simple, can it?

But Coriolanus’ features harbor no mirth. Skepticism heightens your pitch.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

You nod. “Okay, I will.”

Displeasure flickers in his gaze. His fingers sneak below your chin to angle it upward, forcing you to drown in his cobalt stare.

“No, I want to hear you say it, sweet bird.” His tone is laced with a solemnity that wasn’t there before. Your stomach knots. “That you live by the will of Coriolanus Snow.”

A shaky breath flows out of you. You’re suddenly reluctant under his keen scrutiny.

Still, your voice comes out a tremulous croak.

“I live because of you, Coriolanus Snow.”

His entire face lights up with your words, a strange glow appearing in his orbs.

For some reason, you feel as if you just tied a noose around your own neck.

You take a sip of your beer, basking in the bitter, heady aftertaste. Usually, you’re not much of a drinker, but it’s the first true respite you’ve gotten from the blue-eyed peacekeeper in many weeks and you plan on enjoying it. 

A tavern wouldn’t be your first choice but Yara invited you and it occurred to you this isn’t the kind of place a boy smelling like old money and roses would visit. 

It’s rare for you to be anywhere these days without his disarming presence hovering in a corner of the room. 

You’ve even considered abandoning your job at the factory altogether. But it’s not like a girl like you can change careers on a whim. You have no connections, no skill, no talent whatsoever. Nothing but your hard-earned ability to weave threads of fabrics together. 

Maybe the mines at the northern end of the district. 

It’s far from a tempting prospect. The work is downright dangerous. But at least it would shield you from the peacekeeper’s relentless scrutiny. 

“Your shadow isn’t here today," Yara notes.

You drag your eyes away from the band playing on stage. 

“My shadow?”

“That pretty boy peacekeeper who follows you around," she elaborates, her lips curved in amusement. You grimace. If only she knew. There isn’t a shred of mirth in your current predicament. 

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t follow me around.”

You refrain from saying he does a plethora of other things that puzzle you and stir your discomfort. 

You refuse to trust him, but thanks to him your cousin has been getting noticeably better, even able to walk on her own again now. It’s a relief. Tonight she’s at friend’s and gets to laugh, play and be a regular kid again. 

Besides, though it pains you to recognize it, your belly’s fuller than it’s been in a long time. 

It shames you to admit it, but it took you no time to cave in and gobble down the food he offered. Hunger does strange things to people. 

You loathe yourself for yielding but the feeling of an empty stomach is infinitely worse than that of your wounded pride. 

"He is pretty though," your friend says, glancing away dreamily. 

Your face warms.  "I really don’t care how he looks. I just wish he’d go pester someone else."

"Hm, fair." She drinks from her jug and shrugs. "He could just be bored. I’m sure he’ll stop at some point."

The conversation reaches a halt when a brown-haired guy around your age with a scar across his face stops at your table. 

“Can I ask you to dance?” he asks. His cheeks redden as he awaits your response. A quiet glance passes between you and Yara. You kick her under the table when she nearly lets out a chuckle.

Endeared by the boy’s bashful manner, you answer with a smile, “Sure, why not.”

You let the stranger drag you into a dance, your worries fading into the buoyant, lively  notes played by the band and the boy’s nonchalant grin.

It’s the kind of normalcy you’ve been longing for.

Engrossed in the moment, as the boy slips a hand around your waist, an audible gasp spills out of you when he pulls away from you out of the blue. 

Or rather is wrenched away from you. 

Your brows rise to your hairline.

You gape in horror, the sight of Coriolanus hauling the boy up by his lapels striking you mute. His features are taut with anger as the boy’s hands rise defensively. A mix of befuddlement and fear decorates his features.

Guilt needles your chest. You never expected the blond to show up here of all places. Paranoia seizes the chaotic train of your thoughts. Was he here all along, watching you like a hawk the entire time? Is he always here, never wandering too far from wherever you are?

Fear coils your insides.

"Hey," you call out, relief trickling inside you when your legs move again. You make a beeline to Coriolanus. 

“What is wrong with you?” you shout, trying to pry him off the poor boy. 

It’s not the useless hand scratching his bicep but rather your tone that appears to jerk him out of his trance. 

His grip on the boy loosens as he whirls to you. The stranger wastes no time in running away. You can’t even blame him. You can’t imagine there’d be many repercussions if the blond harmed him, but the opposite can’t be said. 

Coriolanus’ hands slowly lower before balling into fists. 

Irate blue eyes flare as they fall on you. 

You recoil.

“With me?” he growls, crowding your space. "His grubby paws were all over you."

You blink in disbelief, shocked by his accusing tone. You did nothing wrong. It’s not like he can tell you who to dance and not dance with. "G-Grubby…what? I’m not some damsel in need of rescuing, Coriolanus."

He squints at you, displeasure evident on his angular features. 

His hand latches onto your arm, yanking you towards the exit. You can barely keep up with his furious stomps.

“I think it’s time we had a talk. Come with me.”

“I’d rather stay here."

He ignores you, his grip on you turning deathly. Tears burn the back of your eyes. 

“No…”

You toss a desperate look above your shoulder to find your friend just as shocked as you are. She won’t help you. No one will. 

Your stomach sinks. 

The tears break past the confine of your lashes. 

He takes you outside. The chilly air skates across your skin, spreading gooseflesh over it. The silver glow of the moon lights the tortuous path he takes through dim, narrow alleyways. This is nowhere near your cabin and your panic swells. 

You dig your heels into the ground, resisting. 

Coriolanus heaves out a weary exhale. He hunkers down to pick you up. You squeal, flabbergasted by his nerve. He hoists you on his shoulders as if you were a sack of grain, taking firm, irate steps into the night. 

"You can’t do this," you weep, slamming as hard as you can into his back. 

Hardly flinching, he scoffs before stating, “I don’t remember asking for your permission, birdie."

[ratsoh-writes]

The character limit on asks cannot stop me from submitting my matchup request

I apologize in advance. I have dumb bitch don’t shut up disease. There’s nothing I can do 🤷‍♂️

The elephant in the room: I’m neurodivergent. A mix of adhd and autism. I was born with disabilities. I have Chairi type 2, I did get surgery as kid for it, and an auto-inflammatory disorder as the biggest in my life. Chronic migraines, joint and muscle pain, stomach issues etc. I take meds to help and try to keep up with low impact activities. I do get an injection for the auto-inflammatory disease and then botox and nerve blocks injections in my head and shoulders for intense muscle stiffness. Hurts like hell but it helps me a lot. 

Personality: I’m quite low energy and quiet most of the time. I like familiarity and having to change how I do something stresses me out hard. I try to appear calm and sarcastic but I’m a lot more sensitive than what I want to admit. Rejection sensitivity dysphoria messes me up bad and I’m generally an anxious person. I do have a knack for analyzing things. I can get too involved the world’s problems with this but also pinpoint how someone feels and maybe why once I notice their pattern. I really want to make people happier. If a loved one asks me to jump, I’ll ask how high. As for humor, I adore stupid tumblr and gen z humor. Me and the boys DO go out looking for beans thank you for asking. 

Hobbies: I love some existential games. Little Nightmares 1 and 2 are iconic. I could go on and on about the symbolism. Speaking of, once again I like to analyze. Media analysis is a fun pastime for me. As I said, I get into larger issues and I find different media’s are wonderful media for exploring them, specially horror. My new thing is horror podcasts. Archive 81 is my favorite rn. I’ve been trying to nurture my inner kid. I have plushies that I sleep with and ones that I attach to my bag to bring with me places. I wanna rewatch some childhood shows/movies like Monster High, Barbie, and Pokémon. I’ve been sewing and crocheting a lot. I made a stuffed whale with a starry looking yarn. Space whale ❤️. I draw and paint a ton. I like gauche, markers, pencils, and digital but I wanna go back to sketches. I like learning, it sounds so dumb but it’s true. I wanna go into a research field actually, specially with birds. I really like animals in general though. I have some dogs and cats and a bearded dragon. I have a sorts punk-cryptidcore-fairycore thing going on. I really expressing it through clothing and eye and lip makeup. I’m a big lipstick fan. I always wear it out. I like big and bold eyeshadow looks. I want to be soft and huggable while also looking like I came from hell.

Pet Peeves: If I say I’m busy or not in the mood, I really need that person to listen. I get into angry moods sometimes and just need to be left alone. I hate feeling like that and I despise snapping at people. Talking over me every time. I got in trouble a lot for interrupting so now I’m very cautious about it and I’d like the same. In the same vain, never listening to what I’m trying to say. I’m excited or invested in something and then they keep talking to someone else or looking at their phone. I have bad sensory issues. Don’t bother me about it. I can eat a sandwich one day and the next it makes sick. I don’t know why, don’t ask. I also can’t stand a variety of sounds. It doesn’t matter if it isn’t loud, I can hear it and it hurts. 

Dealbreakers: I hate being brushed off when I’m upset. I rarely communicate it, so when I do it’s a leap of faith from my perspective. I don’t want to be told I’m being defensive or emotional or be left alone.

Values: I hate so much about the world currently, and a lot of it is how people don’t question things. Why is this necessary if it causes hurt? Do we need it? Can we alter it? I find a lot of good people agree on fixing things but don’t understand the deeper issues that cause them. I guess I really value compassion. From a scientific standpoint, humans got so far by being really good at taking care of each other. We took care of the sick and elderly and cared for babies and children. I want things to better for my younger siblings and their kids. I truly believe in silent rebellions and hope in dark places. I’m disabled, very very queer and a lot of my family are immigrants. I’m very proud. So many people and systems tried stop me but I’m still very alive. I think living as happily and indulgently as I can is the best F you to those people and systems.

Oh! I think I have it down with this one!

The boy I’m matching you with is…..

Papyrus!!! The cool man himself!!

What attracts papyrus to you is the fact that you never loose hope! You aren’t naive by any means, but you still see the good in humanity and want to add to that. Plus your creativity is a big bonus. Papyrus is usually attracted to the artsy people. Anyone who creates

He an amazing communicator and is so forgiving and compassionate. If you’re looking for a respectful boy, paps is your man. He’s good with quirky partners and rolls with it well. Especially if you’re willing to entertain his own quirks in return.

One thing about humans that he’s super jealous of is lips lol. Papyrus jokes about wishing he could feel his “hair” in the breeze, but if he had lips, you’d bet he’d be wearing lipstick every day too. He adores it when you wear yours and will pretend not to notice if you ever leave lipstick stains on his cheek lol

He doesn’t get gen z humor very well, but does enjoy the dirtier jokes. He won’t admit that though! Gotta keep up his good boy image!

[votederpycausemufins]

It’s a little shorter than the previous chapters, but it’s got some important stuff going on. But things still aren’t going to go well for a bit. in fact, after this chapter, we’re just going to focus on the bots. Maaaybe also Tommy

@petrichormeraki

There was a sigh as the winged figure sat down on a ledge. “I thought I told you I go by Death.”

“Or Dadza.” Grifter spoke up, getting a glare from his dad.

“You do realize I’ve disowned you, right?” Death asked, a bored look on his face.

“Pfft.” Grifter started before making his bedrock prison swing. “That doesn’t stop you from visiting when I call you again and again and again!”

“Because it gets annoying.” Death rolled his eyes before looking at who called him. “Speaking of which, why were you calling?”

“Well first off, that is the worst thing to repeat, why is it so fucking long? Second, can you get me out of here?!”

Death tilted his head from side to side in contemplation. “I dunno. Whole reason you’re in here is because Theseus asked me to, and he’s the one son I still respect.”

“Isn’t Wile still living with you?” Grifter piped up.

“Yes, he is. And while I don’t respect him, he’s still better than you.”

Grifter pouted. “That’s not fair. I’m better than that pussy.”

“Can we go back to the fact that I’m stuck in here because my evil copy wanted me here?!” Tommy shouted to get the attention of the others there. “Why the fuck did he want that?”

Death shrugged. “Well, seeing as how he’s not even in this dimension anymore, I’m guessing it’s so you couldn’t stop him leaving from Hels.”

“Wait, so the others don’t even know I’m missing?!” Tommy struggled, trying to find a way to even possibly escape his current prison, but had no luck. “Phil please can you let me out?!”

Death moved to sit on top of Grifter’s bedrock casket. “You know, normally I would have already. Theseus just wanted you in here long enough for him to leave. The thing is, I’m pretty sure you’d also let Grifter out, and I’d really rather keep him in here.”

“Oh come on Dadza, I’m not going to try and kill you. Remember, I’m a Listener now. That’s all the power I need. It’s just not quite enough to let me out of here since it was made to deal with those powers.” Grifter shifted to try and get a better look up at Death, but had little luck. “I’ll leave you and Wile alone, especially because if I killed you, then I’d probably end up as Death and then I’ll have to leave Sense alone.”

“Right… you did finally find someone, didn’t you?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll behave.” Grifter spoke in the sweetest voice he could muster.

Death was silent before flying back over to Tommy and breaking the lock in it, letting the bedrock casing open and causing Tommy to fall to the ground below. “Hey! I’m on half a heart now!”

“Hmm, thought that would kill you. Well, if you let Grifter out, I’m fine with that.”

Chains rattled as Grifter shook his prison. “Wait you’re not just letting me out?”

“No. Leaving it up to him.” Death pointed down to Tommy, and then a moment later he was gone.

“Uh, so are you, um… planning to help with that?”

“I’d rather not, but I don’t have a fucking clue how to leave, and I’m guessing this Listener thing is like Big G being a Watcher.”

“It’s the counterpart in this dimension.”

“Got it.” Tommy nodded. “Well I’m pretty much stuck in this world if I don’t help you, so I guess I have to. But that means you have to help me out since I can get you out and know where Sense is.”

“Of course.”

Tommy looked around and was glad to find there was an area that was easy to exit, but it was five blocks up. The walls were also obsidian, so it would take forever to mine up there with his hands since he had nothing in his inventory. “Uh, slight problem…”

“I’ll summon you some blocks or some shit you can use.” Grifter replied, and a moment later there was what sounded almost like a lightning strike and then a few blocks rained from above.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“I get killed every time I use any of my powers. Normally I only do it when I’m really bored, but if we can use it to get out, it seems like a good idea to me.”

Tommy wasn’t sure how to react to that, so he just used the blocks of glazed terracotta - why that block, he wasn’t sure - to build up to the glass of what seemed to be a viewing area. He broke the glass and slid through into the room and started rifling through it. It was mainly bare, but there were a few random items here and there. Also a painting. It wasn’t big enough for anyone to go through, so at first Tommy assumed decoration, but then he looked behind it and found a chest.

“Found the keys!”

“Do you need more blocks?”

“Nah, you gave me enough and I can tear up the stuff in here if I need more.”

“What do you mean Phil’s your grandpa too?”

“I mean that he’s the dad of one of my dads and so he’s my grandpa! And since that’s the same for Grum, Phil’s also his grandpa.”

“Did Techno have a kid?!”

“No. At least I don’t think so. Grum said there were only three of us. Wait does that mean NPG doesn’t count? Maybe because he’s in Hels or something?”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But if you’re not- Did Tommy somehow build you before he died?!”

“What? No! He didn’t build us, and he’s not dead either.” Jrum crossed his arms. “Our dad is Grian!”

“Iskall’s friend?!”

Jrum lit up. “You know Auncle Iskall?”

“Yeah, I kinda hacked into his comm a few months ago and we somehow became friends from it. How does Grian being your dad make you related to me?!”

“I said because his dad is Phil!”

“Then why have I never heard of him?!”

“‘Cause he sort of went missing for a bunch of years. We only found out like uhhh… how many days ago?” Jrum paused to look at his current statistics for the world. “We’ve been here almost a week?!”

“How did you not know that?”

“I don’t know! I thought it’s been two days!” Jrum said, slightly panicking as Fundy pulled out his normal comm and started scrolling up.

“Yeah, it says you two joined six days ago.”

“But that’s not possible! The only time that could have happened is-” Jrum paused. The only time both of them had been off for an extended period of time was when we lost power. And that was when we were with… Mister Sam… Is… did he lie to us?” Jrum looked up at Fundy with sad eyes.

“Well… I…” Fundy wasn’t sure what to tell Jrum, and before he could say much else, the bot was hugging onto his legs with a hug.

“We’ve… also been stuck here that long. Did… is no one trying to help us? Can we not go home?”

Fundy winced, remembering what he had been told earlier as he pulled out the comm Dream had given him. If he said anything more, he might not get another chance, but at the same time, his call with Iskall had probably lasted long enough. “No. They’re trying to get you guys. I was just calling Iskall not too long ago. Apparently your parents are freaking out trying to find you guys. You’re honestly pretty lucky they are.”

Jrum looked at the device and carefully took it from Fundy’s outstretched paw. He looked it over before handing it back, no matter how much he wanted to keep it. “D-Dad and Tommy were really upset at Grandpa and the others. They weren’t really nice to Tommy, so I guess they weren’t nice to you either.”

Fundy shook his head, which made Jrum hug him more. “Well, we can help Grum… a-and then the three of us can try to find a way to Hermitcraft!”

The hybrid smiled slightly then nodded. “Sure, why not. Sounds like it could be fun.” And he turned back to look at Grum.

Just as he did, a window that had been open on Grum’s screen closed. Because of that, neither he nor Jrumbot saw the open application that showed a video feed of the two of them and the blinking red dot in the corner to signify it being recorded. Nor did they see the other flashing symbol that changed between two images. A smile, and a broken portal.

“I don’t understand why he hasn’t shown up yet.” Xannes grumbled and NPG patted his back.

“Aww, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just a little busy. They are currently going through a little crisis With Grum and Jrum missing.”

“They’re just machines, who cares if they’re gone?”

NPG ignored the way that comment hurt. “You know how much hermits care about others. They even care for you after you’ve tried to destroy the place. As far as they’re concerned, those two are real people. They’re not abandoning them.”

Xannes crossed his arms. “It seems stupid.”

NPG didn’t respond and instead fiddled with some wood blocks in his inventory. He already built them this rustic house and they didn’t need another. If they were back in Helscraft maybe, but things tended to be more down to earth here as far as he knew.

They were quiet a bit longer, just sitting as Xannes stared out at the land ahead. NPG slowly stepped closer before sitting down on the ground next to the hels admin’s chair and pulling out some wool yarn from his inventory. “Here… I brought some along. I don’t have needles though.”

Xannes rolled his eyes and huffled before turning away from NPG, but his hand did come back and grab the yarn before pulling out some spare knitting needles he kept on him.

“Um, did you hear that they can’t get into the world they want to get into because they’re blacklisted?” The robot asked as Xannes started to knit.

“All of them? That’s a little surprising. Have they tested all the hermits?”

“Uh…” NPG pulled out a communicator and typed something into it, waiting a minute before a response came in. “Not yet, but so far no one can get in.”

“Well, guess now they can know how it feels to be banned from a world.”

NPG frowned before scolding his friend. “That’s not a good thing to say! I mean, haven’t you been happy visiting here? They could have said no, but your brother let you in anyway. And you only got that chance because of one of the people that are stuck in a universe they can’t get to.”

Xannes sighed, but didn’t say anything else, just knitting in a way that NPG recognized. The admin tended to knit in slightly different patterns or rhythms based on his emotions. Right now it wasn’t quite sad, but it was at least a little melancholic. So not wanting to make it worse, NPG just sat next to his friend quietly. 

When a certain person clad in pink finally arrived, NPG excused himself to let him and Xannes hang out. The robot found a different room of the rustic house and sort of sulked around. It didn’t take long before he was bored of sulking and found paper to sketch rustic houses on, but he ended up crumpling them up and throwing them away. He didn’t even feel like making rustic houses right now. So instead, he ended up just lying down on the ground and staring at the ceiling.

Eventually, time passed by, NPG wasn’t sure how long, but he only really realized that time had passed at all because Xannes was suddenly standing next to him and looking down. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

NPG didn’t answer at first, but eventually looked away before speaking up. “Yeah… they are kinda family and all.”

There was a very long sigh from Xannes. “Okay, what’s the world called again?”

NPG’s head snapped around to look at Xannes. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean, obviously the people banned are from Hermitcraft or related to those kids. I’m sure you’re included in one of those, but I’m neither. I’m not family and I’m not from Hermitcraft. Plus my hacking should help out distracting anyone that could give me trouble.”

NPG jumped up to his feet and hugged Xannes. “Thank you! This is so nice of you!”

“Ugh, stop hugging me before I change my mind and contact whoever should no before I try it just in case something goes wrong and I actually need help for some fucking reason.”

“Okay, got it.” And NPG sent a message, giving a thumbs up a few moments later. Xannes nodded back and then pressed a button on his helmet and cracked his knuckles. He checked a few info panels, changing some commands to work for this new world instead of Hermitcraft, then he initiated his teleport.

EvilXisuma joined the world

In all the commotion, Theseus stepped away from the group, taking a stolen ender pearl in his hand and chucking it as far as he could. Even then, he still tried to get more distance to make sure he was really alone and far enough from Philza. Finally, he reached a clearing and checked it over to make sure no one was around. He even double checked before finally going to the center of the clearing and speaking into the air. “I call the goddess of death.”

Immediately, a brisk breeze blew through the nearby trees, cooling the surrounding area. Theseus tried his best not to shiver and just stood still, waiting for the wind to calm before turning around. Standing there was someone who looked like his mom, but dressed in his dad’s clothes. “Mumza.”

“Hello Tommy. It looks like Phil finally told you about me.”

“More or less. Figured some of it out on my own, but he did tell me the last part I needed to know.”

“How have you been? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you last.”

“Been around. Been busy. Shit like that, y’know.” Theseus was glad that she wasn’t around for his other self. It would make it easier to lie. 

“I’m assuming you don’t just want to talk?”

“Well, apparently I have nephews and they got kidnapped and are stuck in the server Phil, Techno and I were in. None of them can get back in, but I was thinking maybe I could. Unfortunately none of them will let me try to help.”

He was given a soft, kind smile. “I’m glad you want to help. I can see why Phil would want to be a little protective, but I can help you.”

He nodded and took the hand the goddess held out to him.

TheseusMC joined the world

EvilXisuma joined the world

Error with processing. Virus found. Attempting recovering. Recovery failed; Too many resources being used. Finding unnecessary memory usage. Found. Disable communicator direct connection. Disabled. 

Files being accessed. Restricted files attempting access. Restricted files require password access. Please input password. Password inputted. Checking password. Password accepted. 

Activation phrase number 652 used. Activating camera. Beginning recording. Recording. Recording. Recording. Closing program. Sending recording. Sending. Recording sent to user level Admin. 

Blacklist check. Attempting Entry: TangoTek. Assigned roles: Hermittown member, Acknowledged associate family, Team ZIT member, Operator. Banned roles: Hermittown member. Acknowledged associate family. Continue blacklist.

Blacklist check activated. Increase displacement by 1.5%. Displacing. Displacement complete. Displacement at 39.5% total.

Opening files at request. Warning, files missing data. Names of referenced files changed. Please update file names. Warning, Error with processing. Virus found. Shutting down.

[molly-rapozo]

Knit, Purl, Knit Again

I started knitting again last week after a several-month hiatus. It seems I forgot how much I really do love having yarn in my hands. 

I first learned to knit back in second grade. My teacher, Mrs. Saville, was sweet and grandmotherly to all the girls and somewhat cold to boys. She wasn’t mean, per se, but she clearly chose favorites. 

One day she started a knitting club for girls who wanted to escape the madness and chaos of the playground during recess. A small group of maybe seven girls, we’d take our lunchboxes and spread out on a plaid blanket on the school’s front lawn. Our circle started and ended with Mrs. Saville and we chatted over sandwiches and carrot sticks. Once we’d finished our lunches, we’d all pick up our needles and yarn and Mrs. Saville would demonstrate how to take our working yarn and wrap it around our right hand needle, throwing our yarn, English-style, instead of picking it as you would if you were knitting continental. 

Between this year and second grade I maybe every once in a while pulled out an old pair of needles and some spare yarn that I had lying around as a steady crafty kid, but knitting never really took. Until now! 

I love knitting. I think I’m kind of obsessed. Although, I do kind of have an obsessive personality. Regardless — there’s just something about knitting that boosts its rank amongst my other hobbies and crafts. 

In every other creative venture, there’s something that I don’t like, usually just one aspect that annoys me slightly or aggravates me a little. It is often easy to get over it and still work on whatever the project is. For example, I have really been enjoying quilting in the last few months. I despise cutting fabric, though. I hate it. My partner has a theory that it’s because I have a shitty cutting set-up at the moment (he’s not wrong), but if I could skip cutting out the shapes of fabric I absolutely would. It is one of the most important parts of quilting or sewing and so I muster through. 

My perfectionism shines when I’m painting. I get so mad when I’m trying to learn to blend colors and it doesn’t work. But I love the finished product, usually! Drawing is similar. And writing feels like torture when I’m not frantically writing something that just fell into my lap (which only happens every once in a while). 

Knitting, however, I can sit and do all day. First of all, holding yarn in your hands? A true gift. Keeping your hands busy and feeing soft material the whole time — what could be better? I can also learn new skills and not be mad when I fail the first several times. Failure means ripping out the stitches and trying again. Somehow that feels like much lower stakes than drawing or painting or writing, even though mistakes are easily fixable in all of those practices. 

Plus, you can do a lot with the simplest skills. And when you’re ready, there’s a whole big world of stitches and patterns and techniques and different yarns to use and explore. 

There’s so much more to knitting that I haven’t even really explored yet. I’d love to learn more about pattern designing. As I create my own meditation practice, I would also love to learn more about knitting meditations. 

If you’ve considered knitting but never picked up needles, I highly recommend! Or, if it’s not your cup of tea, I highly recommend just finding that craft or creative practice that gets you excited no matter what. Finding something to do that allows you to enjoy all the processes and rituals is a true gift in this world. Happy making! 

[shmisolo]

For Anyone Looking for Not-Super-Angsty-Stuff

I’m compiling mine (or at least the less-angsty stuff) into one list for ya.  

Seen ✔️✔️ 

His lock screen has three texts from Rey on it:

Rey Wife: Babe I know you’re probably busy right now, but you sent that pic to the wrong chat. Rey Wife: Bennnnnnn Rey Wife: Call me when you’re done processing your trauma.

And then about ninety chats from the Skywalker Ranch WhatsApp thread.

--

In which Ben sends a picture to the wrong chat.

The Sweater Curse

She’s never made a sweater before, but she saw the pattern on Ravelry and who cares if she’s only made (lumpy) hats before—she has to try it.  She has to make it. She has to make it for Ben.

“You realize that Hannukah isn’t an important holiday, right?” Ben asks as she makes eye contact with him.  His eyes are big and brown and—at this moment—mildly annoyed.

“Really?  Is it a giant conspiracy theory?  Part of the war on Christmas?”

“More than you realize,” Ben says and for the life of her she can’t tell if he’s joking.  He does this thing sometimes that’s confusing—where he’ll say something that sounds mopey but is actually snarky and it disarms her every damn time.  “In any event, ugly Hanukkah sweaters definitely aren’t a thing the way ugly Christmas sweaters are.”

“Well, they are now,” Rey says firmly.  “I’m making you an ugly Hanukkah sweater.  Deal with it. And stop moving.”

it's you and me (i know it's our destiny) 

It’s just a kid’s game, he thinks when jealousy pangs in his heart. But it’s more than just a kid’s game.

It’s Pokémon.

It’s the only good thing in his life.

Shalom Rav!

In which Rey comes to terms realizing that she is attracted to the rabbi.

Apples and Honey

When Ben catches wind that his mother is planning to foist a potential girlfriend on him when he comes home for Rosh Hashanah, he takes matters into his own hands: specifically, he runs to Rey and asks her to pretend to be his girlfriend.

atlanta > all atlanta > community > missed connections

In which Rey meets a cosplayer at DragonCon. 

Two to Tango

Rey: I need to ask you something awkward. Ben: What’s up? Rey: Can I give you a blowjob? Please?

Bang for your Buck

“We ready?” he asks her, sounding huffy.

“Nice to meet you Ben, I’m just familiarizing myself with your training,” she replies.

“Ok, well I don’t have all day.”

“No, you have,” she checks her watch, “another hour.” Because of course he’d booked an extra long session. Bless that sweet, sweet overtime pay.

“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” he asks her and she glances up at him, sure that her eyes are flashing because that’s fucking rude. She’s a professional. Amilyn wouldn’t have hired her if she didn’t know what she’s doing, and just because he apparently thinks he’s the center of the universe doesn’t change that fact.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your bang for your buck,” she tells him icily.

A Picture's Worth

reyjay: hiya your art is amazing

reyjay: it’s a big ask but could you draw me for my art final tomorrow? i’m shit at drawing people and i can’t fail this. can you help?

He stares.

And stares.

And stares.

kyloren: is this some kind of a joke?

reyjay: no?? why??

kyloren: you’re asking me to help you cheat your exam, but you’re not even offering me money?

Forged

There are several reasons that Ben would never have dreamed he’d ever receive this text. The first is that he’d be invited to a Halloween party. The second is that he’d never in his life expected to be in a serious relationship, much less the sort of serious relationship where his partner would suggest matching Halloween costumes. And the last is that he is dating someone who’s show only and they’ve only almost murdered one another twice. Because he’s an A Song of Ice and Fire fan. He hates Game of Thrones.

(Not) Interested

We're bringing Speed Dating back to Space Battles Bonanza! Register online for one of our special Bonanza sessions of 15 three-minute dates so you’ll no longer have to look for love in a galaxy far far away. Choose from one of seven speed dating sessions, two of which are queer focused. If the Insurgents can blow up the Doom Moon in 11 minutes, let’s see if you can make a love connection in only three.

There’s a history of successful Speed Dating at Space Battles Bonanzas, with long-term couples, engagements and marriages now among the alumni.

--

In which Rey & Kylo meet at their fancon's speed dating.

do or do not (do the do)

In which Ben, in an effort to improve his stamina (look he's making progress, ok?) after reading some articles that he'll never be able to unread, receives some coaching (that he very much did not ask for).

(Very much did not ask for.)

A for... 

Rey’s seeing double by the time there’s food on her plate. Oh. There’s food on her plate. That’s good. That’s unexpected at this point. “Eat,” Ben tells her.

So she does. It tastes good. Very good. She likes this food a lot.

“I’ll make sure she knows,” Ben says.

Oh she’s at that point of drunk where she’s just saying things out loud instead of keeping them in her internal monologue.

“You are,” Ben says, looking very amused.

She hopes she doesn’t say anything embarrassing.

“I promise, you haven’t yet, but oh boy, I’m looking forward to this.”

She shoves food into her mouth to keep herself from thinking out loud about his dick in her ass at his mother’s Passover seder.

The Love Committee 

In which Rey, tired of her bad luck with dating apps and failed relationships, enlists her friends' help in determining who she should date next.

They take it a little too seriously.

💦💦💦💦 

In which Ben accidentally implies that he gets his cardio from having sex on national television.

You, Me, and He

When they say that Kylo's brain is in his groin, they're not far from the truth.

Alternatively,

In which Kylo Ren is his own penis.

and beyond 

“Please?”

For a moment, he thinks it will be like the first time, him begging, her crying and saying no and him not knowing how to protect his crushed heart.

But she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t say, “Please don’t go this way,” she doesn’t look horrified or disgusted. She just grabs him by the front of his shirt and tugs his lips down to hers before reaching down to cup his cock.

we decided not to kill the wolves (we wanted to be wolves)

A pack of wolves lives in the woods to the north of Raddus and as winter looms, they have their eyes set on Leia Organa’s stronghold. Rey may be new to Raddus, but she’s not about to do nothing while it may be in danger. And besides, Poe must be exaggerating about wolves the size of bears. She’s not afraid of monsters.

myosotis 

Ben picked the flowers for their wedding.

The Kitchen

Rey and Ben, hunting for their first house.

Investiture 

In which Ben goes to daven for his father’s yahrtzeit and manages to prove to himself once again that he is both a terrible person and a terrible Jew.

Oh and he sort of falls in love.

The Sweetest Thing 

A post-coital trip to Waffle House.

with you i shall play

And when it's dry and ready, then Ben's dick Rey shall play.

Everything to Prove

“The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”

And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.

“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.

“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.

She does her best not to think of that now.

It’s a friendly competition, after all.

It’s not life and death.

It’s baking.

Brightblades 

In which Rey learns about a startling kink of her new boyfriend, and in which, much later, they roleplay it.

The Knotting Shop 

Ben realizes upon entering the shop that he had gotten the complete wrong impression from the name of it.

What the fuck sort of shop calls itself The Knotting Shop if it’s not about, well, knotting?

The answer, apparently, is a knitter with a sense of humor. An Omega, by the scent that seems to have landed in every colorful ball of yarn in the shop and which hits him right in the groin.

Let Go (Never Let Me Go) 

In which Rey swipes right on Ben, 35. Probably too much of an asshole for you, but my therapist is trying to convince me that assholes deserve love too, so here’s me on Tinder, and it does not proceed as she expects.

crossfade (cursed and blessed)

The Talmud states that on Purim one is to drink to the point of not knowing the difference between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai.” In other words, you’re supposed to get so blitzed you can’t tell your friends from your enemies. Rey and Ben might be taking this a little too literally at Leia’s annual Purim Party.

Kind Stranger

Ben stares at the text for a minute before opening up his computer and typing “+7793 area code” into his web search. Jakku. Of course he wouldn’t have recognized it. He confessed himself surprised to know that Jakku even had an area code. Did people still live in Jakku?

#kylothekiller 

It’s not the first time that Rey has seen Kylo pop up in her Fido stream, but it is the first time she’s clicked on him fast enough to be scheduled for a meet and greet with dog and owner on Saturday.

All Bets Are Off 

“Fake girlfriend. What does that even mean?” Ben asks her.

Rey rests a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles underneath his sleeve. “Babe,” she says, leaning close to him. “It means we pretend we’re madly in love. Think you can pull that off for your office pool?” Ben’s eyes flicker softly between each of hers and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

[dapperdasha]

statement of tumblr user dapperdasha, regarding her headaches. (this is just vent writing in the style of a statement oops) cw for unhealthy thinking patterns about chronic pain, mild body horror, doubting sanity, minor hallucinations both related to migraines and not  statement begins.

It is in my head. It burns behind my eyes and stuffs too many teeth into my jaw and pinches at my spine. And I cannot do anything for it but to eat, to drink, to sleep. It forces me away from my friends, from my brother, from things I love doing. The pain mocks me with its kindness. So considerate, tending to be worst when I'm at least on my way home, never striking fully during an emergency, but laughing the whole time, its nails just far enough removed from my neck for me to almost forget the endless maze of pain, pain that returns only once I’ve convinced myself I must have been exaggerating its severity. I am trapped in my body with my pain and my pain is screaming at me, no matter how much I listen, screaming. I cannot scream. I try not to cry. It makes it hurt more. I sit with my discomfort, do anything that might help 5%, fall asleep, and do it again.

It has been hurting to stand for more than a few minutes lately, I think. I can never seem to tell if it’s always been like this. The pain isn’t real, has no reason to be real, yet it consumes me in its impossible twisting. I am tired of hurting. I try not to mind the pain too much. I know this isn’t normal. This isn’t right. But maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I can get a massage tomorrow. Maybe that will hold off the burning knives in my neck, the way it feels like gentle acid kisses down my back, and the maze of all-consuming pain from my muscles being two sizes too small for my skull. It feels like I am pulling my brain out when I move my eyes.

 Sometimes, it feels like I have no eyes, or someone else’s, like my eye sockets were never made to fit them. I will close my eyes and see flashes and colors that don’t exist and patterns and it is too bright, always too bright. I walk on wobbly legs and cannot find words and I hear laughter, each peal sinking into my neck and sending electricity down my spine, sending my more and more off balance as if it was a physical force spinning me around, rather than a migraine aura. I cannot notice much except the pain and the knotted yarn of conciousness when it gets this bad.

But at the moment, it isn’t that bad, which means my mind is free to notice the way my shoulders burn, muscles embedded with shards of ice forming patterns I cannot comprehend. My arms are heavy, joints grinding like there is sand caught between bones. My jaw creaks and pops and locks itself, and beneath the skin of my neck, my tendons feel stretched thin. The pain has a blunt, familiar burn, as if IV medication is pushing its way through each vein in my trapezoids. I try to sit up straight, convincing myself to hold out hope that it will remove the vice-grip my shoulders have on themselves. My spine elongates and my head lifts, muscles shifting against each other, like the rub of sandpaper twice removed. My vertebrae don’t seem to fit, my skull too heavy, shoulderblades misaligned like a drawer off its track. I tremble ever so slightly the longer I hold the pose of normality, my lungs struggling to breathe so far from my ribs, and muscle fibres burn red-hot, pain radiating and catching and spreading until tears spring to my eyes, as much from shame for feeling the pain as the pain itself. I slump again, scapula tugging at my muscles, knee spasming again, empty of energy. Pain radiates out from my shoulderblades to the rhythm of a laugh.

Everyone aches sometimes, don’t they?

It isn’t the flu, the doctor said (I knew it wasn’t. If it is a virus, I have been infected for a long time). Try to avoid stress, exercise, just give it time, she said. I can’t help but think she was listening more to the note on my chart reading strong family history of mental illness than she was to me. The laughter down my back made me too dizzy to bring up the strange auras - times the endless patterns and colors of a migraine resolve into a single, solid yellow door inside my eyelids, the times I’ve lifted a heave hand to brush curls that are not mine out of my eyes. No need to give them even more reason to think it’s just my mental health going to shit.  Some things can’t be fixed with a pill, and I know my symptoms are all so vague that a diagnosis is a matter of catching smoke with no fire. There’s nothing wrong with me that can be seen. Maybe I am making it up. Maybe I’m thinking about it too much. I keep going; what else can I do? Yes, it hurts. But does it really hurt this badly? My back has always hurt, everyone’s backs hurt. I’m just whining. I’m exaggerating, true, when I say that my shoulder blades feel serrated, tearing into my muscles with every move I make, but it is still true. I try not to move them.

 It will be better at home, I used to tell myself during endless days at school. It will be better when I don’t have to press my weight against a metal seat, fire in my back, hold my head at an angle my spine begs me not to as I strain my eyes to type on a chromebook, assignments that mean nothing but for their being assigned. In reality, no arrangement of pillows and heat packs manages to let my muscles relax. I fall asleep with a crick in my neck and wake up to laughter echoing in my skull  and shoulders so tense I mistake muscles for bone. I spend hours massaging my neck, taking fire and neon and rubber bands about to snap and too-slowly lulling it down to numb prickles and background pain. My vertebrae still feel as if they are stacked in the wrong order, but it is infinitely better than muscles that scream with taut static, my spine feel a match against the sandpaper of my muscles whenever I turn my head.  It takes days to get back to normal amounts of tension, the kind of ache that seems normal and doesn’t threaten to send me spiralling into a migraine, but 15 minutes of craning my neck or one brightly-colored image is all my body needs to start tearing at itself. If I wish to write, or lie on my side, or look at something that is not the ceiling, my neck starts a low simmer of hissing warning. I don’t want it to start again, so I surrender. I would rather avoid the things that make me love life than live like this, I sometimes think. I do my best to make things I care about, and keep an ear out for the rumble of thunder and the smell of a storm, ready to drop everything and lie down, hoping I caught it soon enough. Hoping I won’t have to send a third email in a row postpoing, hoping the wrongness will fade and sharp fingers will retract.

For now, I can write this, hoping someone will read it and understand that this isn’t normal, I don’t think. I don’t know. I can throw descriptions down in the hope that you can hear me, hoping my words are more than the screams of my brain as it throbs, hoping I can keep my fingers from going numb and veering off.

I do not wish for a cure, anymore. I just want a day with no pain in my body. One day. I wish it didn't come back so quickly. I wish a lot of things, though. Why would this wish be any different from the others? Maybe I will follow the twirling spikes behind my eyes. Sink into it. The colors are so loud. Everything is laughing. My neck is painted in ultraviolet and magenta and I feel pre-migraine tension screeching down my neck. My body is laughing. I want to know why. I’m sobbing, or laughing, or both, and my shoulder hurts and I close my eyes and wait for the door.  statement ends.

[androgynousblackbox]

Crafts I have done during quarantine

I was bored so decided to rate and review all the crafts I have done while I had nothing else to do. Working in felt Pros: -It’s fairly easy to do, even kids could try it, given that someone checks on them to be careful with the pointy stuff like scissors and needle. -You end up with something cute and soft that is going to be your very own plush, like wow, don’t you feel accomplished for making your own plush. And you can make it however you want, adding as many details as you could ever want. Or not, whatever, it’s your own choice. -There is a lot of free patterns for a lot of things online available. Do you want to make a beetle? Have a pattern for it. Do you want to make a bear? Have a pattern. And in case you don’t happen to find the pattern for the thing you want, you can always just make it yourself or adapt a prexisting one for the thing you need. -You can add details in embroidery if you want, to give something extra. Cons: -To work with felt you will either need a lot of glue or develop a second skill, that is sewing so it will take some practice before you are making the lines straight or as close as they need to be. Or else risk getting all untangled and have the fucking thing have it’s filling picking on a corner. -Time consuming. Between making/printing the pattern and cutting the parts there is no much trouble, that will feel like a breeze. Depending on the size and the level of detail, It’s the fucking sewing that will take you forever and, again, if you are not used to it, I hope you enjoy getting pinched, having the thread tangled up it’s own ass, having to redo a stitch because it came out way too fucking ugly and thread that motherfucker through the needle’s eye again and again, because you are going to do a lot of that with each single piece. Don’t try to make it perfect or your eyes will get tired. Which is a shit advice if you WANT to get it perfect and cute and exactly as the pictures show, but you won’t because you are just starting so, fuck, embracing the potential ugly it is. Take solace in the fact you made that ugly and that ugly wouldn’t exist without you. -3D images objects like balls for heads or body will take even more time and maybe especial patterns if you can’t just do them from your own imagination. -The plush will never end up exactly as you imagined after you put the filling the first times. Just deal with it. Rating: 6/10 because fuck sewing. Cold porcelain Pros: -It’s easy to make and if not, cheap to buy, infinitely cheaper than polymer clay and, on my case, so much easier to find. -Some cold porcelain can come in certain colors, but if you don’t have access to those that it’s okay, you can grab the cheapest paint you have on hand and kneed it together with just the tiniest amount. Your hands will end up a mess, but at least you can have all the color you could need to do anything with one single package. -Speaking of packages, cold porcelain is usually sold in bigger quantities than polymer clay so you could do a lot with just one. -You don’t like how it turned out in the end because the thing dried way darker than you expect? You can paint it over with acrylic paints no problem. -Did I mention that is cheap? The ideal glue for cold porcelain is white glue, the same shit kids use for school. Just a tiny amount will be more than enough to join any pieces together as long they aren’t too heavy, so with buying a big bottle you will served for a pretty long time. This only work as long the piece hasn’t dried completely, though. -If for whatever reason you want to save on glue, use water. In general you can use water to make more intricate details, join two pieces so they appear as one or smooth something out. -I have used three different brands of cold porcelain and I had never had a problem in which my fingerprints got stuck all over it. -Are you a terrible cooker that gets bored waiting for the food to cook, gets distracted with something else and come back to find you overcooked? Or rather, get so nervous about that happening that take out the food before it’s completely done and had to stand eating something undercooked because put it again on the oven sounds like too much of a hassle? Don’t worry, because cold porcelain doesn’t need an oven. Just make sure the thing can dry on the position you want and let the air do it’s job.  -It’s completely non toxic so literally anyone can work with it. -It usually smells like nothing or like glue, so if smell is something important to you on your craft, this is not bad. Cons: -Cold porcelain can be sticky as fuck, especially when you add water or just kneed it with paint, so you will have to use some kind of moisturizer on your hands to handle it easier. Oh, and for this too you will need to cut your nails and clean your work station because once a little hair or unwanted particles get stucked there, good luck taking it out if you don’t want to paint over afterward. So, hey, this could be a pro actually, because if you are someone that doesn’t remember to clean your hands as much you should, cold porcelain will force you to do it and maybe help develop the habit. -Depending on your environment, it could take one, two or even three days for it to dry completely, so you will need to develop some patience for this. The more intricate your piece is, the more you will have to wait for each of them to dry some before putting the details or join together so it doesn’t become too heavy. This could also be a pro for some because you can take all the time you want to modify or add whatever you want. -You must be careful about cracking because what looked like a tiny line during the modeling could turn into an abyss once it’s dried. You will usually be able to fix it easily putting more cold porcelain on top or covering with something else. -Everything you do will be reduce in a 30% in volume, so the figure might never be as big or the size your expected it to, unless you can actually calculate that kind of stuff before time and, like, who has time for that. -Depending on the shape of the figure, you may have to keep turning it from one side to another while drying so it doesn’t warp. You can avoid this by putting the figure on top of a bunch of paper tissues. Rating: 10/10, fucking love it. Punch needle Pros: -Once you understand the basic principles (don’t pull the thread, don’t make punches too far apart, hold the needle right), then it’s very easy to do. -You can make your own pins, plush, pillows, handbag and, truly, anything you can imagine with the fabric. -You have a double effect in which one side looks all smooth and the other one it’s all fluffy and soft, so you can combine both to make something really cool. -There are different size of needles so you can work with embroidery thread or yarn. -It’s very satisfactory to “punch” on the fabric, going with the needle just up and down and up and down during the whole process. You don’t need to be extra careful with it for fear of hurting yourself by accident so you could get your hand busy with that while watching a show or seeing a video. -If embroidery seems like too much work for you, this is the easier version of it even though, as said, the effect and the way of handled it is not going to be the same. Cons: -You will need especial made needle for this, so if you don’t have easy access to them you are kind screwed. There are some needles that come with different options for different threads, but the cheaper one is going to be a single one of one size with which you are only going to work with one type of thread. -You will spend A LOT of thread in one single piece so you better have a lot in hand to complete it. -You will need a especial type of fabric in order to punch it without completely destroying it. -There is not a lot of people who do this kind of craft, so you might struggle to find people interested on it or that publish their work so you can get some inspiration from. -It is, after all, time consuming because you are going to spend a good while just filling up one single are. If you are doing an entire area, that is going to take even longer. Raiting: 8/10 because impatience. Wet felting Pros: -If you are still a terrible cooker, but somehow find the action of kneeding relaxing, then this is the craft for you. It’s so easy that it’s a good activity for kids too. -Low level concentration required because once you get to work the thing with your hands, you can be doing anything else with your eyes and it won’t matter because you are just working with wool, soap and warm water so you can’t hurt yourself even if you do get distracted. -You can do practically anything with this, from clothing for dolls, dolls themselves, accesories and more. It’s up to your imagination and the ways you find to make it. You can even use it to wrap a bar of soap and then not only will help rid of dead particles easier when you use it, but it will last longer. -You can use embroidery for details once it’s dried and ready, or also needle felting.

-Any type of clothing made with this will be the warmest shit you ever had when it’s cold, will last the longest and will keep you drier than other fabrics. Wool is fucking awesome. -Two pieces done the exact same way are never going to look the exact same way. There will always be something unexpected that will give it a unique touch. -Because all you are doing is working with soap and water, your hands will be all clean and nice by the end. -This is an old as fuck technique so you know it must mean that works. -You can dry it around any shape you want, like a vase, and it will permanently take that shape no matter what you do with it after. Cons: -You must be able to get access to natural sheep wool. Synthetics might have pretty colors, but they won’t stick to each other like natural wool does. This can get expensive the more colors you want to add, if you happened to be a lazy fuck like me who can’t be bothered to learn how to dye it. But, you know, there is that option at least. -Making this is an entire process: you need an area where you don’t mind if some water gets spilled onto the floor, space big enough that you can kneed it all you need, put plastic or a towell underneat, don’t mind that your own clothing can end up a little wet and have access to warm water. If the dyed of your wool starts coming out, your towell will end up tainted with it. -If you are doing something 3D, once it start drying, your piece will reduce it’s size and become tighter the more you kneed it so don’t expect it to look the same as it was when wet. And it will take a long while to dry completely until it’s able to be used, like two or three days depending on how big it is. -If you like a smooth kind of look, this is not the thing for you. It doesn’t matter how much you work the wool or how well it’s made, there will always be some hairs sticking out so you will have to learn to live with that and take it as part of it’s charm. But unless you are extremely sensitive about your skin, it won’t be itchy to use either. It just feels warm and comfy. -You try to find people who dedicate to this on the regular. Just try. Rating:7/10 because it’s a lot of work. Crocheting (amigurumi) -Very forgiving type of craft unless your warn suddenly decides it doesn’t want to untangle and end up with an unexpected knot or breaking something trying to pull it appart. -There is A LOT of information, resources, groups, channels and more for you if you are a begginer. Plenty of patterns are also available for free and there is a lot of inspiration to take from that you can easily customize to your own needs. -It’s extremely satisfactory see a shape slowly being formed through your work and in the end you can something soft and cute all for yourself, or whoever you wanted to give it to. -You can do your own dolls, doll’s clothing, figures and creatures adding or taking whatever detail you want, no one is stopping you. -Yarn as a source material is easy to get for most people. A crochet hook are not that expensive either. -Since the warn and the needle are bigger than what a needle for sewing and thread would be, sewing parts together or for adding details it’s not that diffcult. -If you don’t like sewing not even then, or you want something to look a very particular way, you can needle felt it. Cons: -High level concentration required, especially if you are a begginer, because you must count a lot and if you miss even just a single step, the entire thing will look forever weird to you, but aren’t willing to go back all the other steps to find out what went wrong either. -It will take a while getting used to hold the hook and the warn in a way in which the work doesn’t end up too tight or too loose. -Patterns can and will confuse the fuck out of you in the start because you first need to learn an entire vocabulary in order to interpretate them. It’s like reading music, it’s just a bunch of meaningless symbols without that aknowledge. -If you have any kind of cronic pain in your hand, you will need to take a lot of breaks because a lot of crocheting will only make it worse. -The limit of what you can do is always going to be how you descipher the right way to crochet it. You can’t just do the thing, escupt it like on the cold porcelain and then it’s done, there is what you wanted, but you must work it row to row with a lot of care so you don’t miss anything or overdo it. -There is a lot of ways to hold your hook, your work, to do this or that, but all amigurumis are always going to have the same samey texture and look, so you must really be sure you are all about it before getting into this. -Also, if you want to create a new pattern or modify a prexisting one, you will need math. Fuck that noise. Rating: 5/10 because numbers suck. Needle felting Pros: -Excelent stress reliever since you are literally stabbing the wool to do your betting. -Because you are working with a needle, you can be as precise as you could ever want, making sure your work looks exactly as you wanted it to be. -You can sculpt the wool into any shape you want, but unlike cold porcelain or wet felting, there is no drying time required. The work is done and ready when you say is done and ready. -You can do great dolls with this technique since the wool is so flexible and maleable. -You can work with the wool and a needle, or combine this with other techniques to make something more unique, like on the case of amigurumis, welt felting or punch needle. It doesn’t need a especiall fabric either, you can use it on any to add fun details to your liking. -You don’t even actually need wool if you don’t have it close. If you lack any specific color, you can get it’s equivalent on yarn, make fluff out of it with a steel brush and use that for felting just the same, or use the yarn directly. Although if you do that last one you will need to work it a little more to get rid of the original texture and make it smooth. Cons: -The more you work on your wool with the needle, the more firm and less hairy will be, unlike wet felting in which you have to live with it. Problem is, this could take a lot of time and even more so if you don’t have any especial holder and are working with just a single needle in your hand. We are talking about hours and hours of stabbing and stabbing, so make sure to take breaks and let yourself breath before keep going. -High level of concentration required because the moment you get distracted, you will end up stabbing yourself. There are accesories you can put to cover your fingers, but if you don’t have access to those, be careful because those needles can get pretty deep. For this reason I wouldn’t recommend it for a child. -Compared with other type of crafts, there is not a terribly lot of resources for people interested on this and a lot of it is tutorial videos in japanese for some reaosn. If you speak any other language but that one or english, even less than that so a lot of your journey is going to be experimentation. -The needles might have no trouble piercing your fingers, but they are still very fragile, some more than others, so you can’t just grab whichever and go ham to town with it because it will end up broken. If a needle seems like it bends too easily it can be used, but carefully and once the piece it’s too firm for it to penetrate you will need to change for a sturdier one. You will probably need multiple needles of varyin sizes to finish one single work. Rating: 9/10 because I saw a neede literally piercing my finger and that wasn’t fun. String dolls

Pros -I love them?? There are so easy and so cute, omg??? And you are telling me that I can add embroidery, felt, wool or anything I want into it but all I need for the base is yarn? And no math or couting stitches required? Fuck yeah. -Anyone could do any of this, with or without an armature, and as long you have the glue to make sure nothing comes out of place even after some handling, then you have something a keychain, a figurine or doll exactly to your liking. -There is not a lot of resources for people to make these, but those that do exist are fairly easy to customize. Most of them were done by kids so, yeah, definitely they can do it too if they want. -Theorically you could make them as big as you want, but there is nothing wrong with just having something small and adorable. -You can recycle little balls of paper or scrapped yarn in order to make the filling for the head. Cons: -Unless you construct them very well and use a lot of glue, and depending the level of details integrated, they might not be the most durable thing on the Earth. They are relatively easy to repair at least. -Because they are usually small, like small as the palm of your hand small, you might not have space to make it extremely detailed. You can try, though, I guess. -Medium level of concentration required because you have to make sure that the yarn is tense enough that will keep it’s shape and not unravel the moment you let go. -If it’s too firm but you still need to add something with a needle, good luck forcing it’s way through it. Raiting: 10/10 would string again.

[technofantasia]

Knitting Tutorial Gothic

You put down your needles. You are most of the way through a scarf, but your pattern contains an abbreviation you've never seen before. There is a key at the top of the pattern for what the abbreviation means; you've never heard of this technique in your life. You search it up on Google. Google gives you many resources; a text tutorial, several video tutorials, and even some forum threads for people who've had trouble. You click on a video tutorial.

 You wait in anticipation for the video to load; you have both needles clutched in a single hand on your lap. The yarn is scratchy against your skin. It's uncomfortably warm. The video loads, and you're greeted with a title card, proclaiming the name of this knitting channel; apparently, the most popular on youtube. You've never heard of it before in your life. The card takes thirty seconds to fade in, and another thirty to fade out. Cheery music is playing. You feel dizzy all of a sudden. "Hello and welcome to --!", the cheery knitter greets. You didn't hear the name of the channel. What was it again? You suddenly can't recall. All you know is static.

 The cheery voice begins explaining what this stitch is; you know what it is. You want to know how to do it. You skip 10 minutes. They have just completed their explanation on what knitting is. You know what knitting is. You just want to know how to do this stitch. You skip another 10 minutes. They begin thanking today's sponsor for providing the yarn used in today's tutorial, in the color Coral Beige. You skip another 10 minutes. They have moved on to thanking their needle sponsor. You skip another 10 minutes. The video is three hours long.

After an amount of time you cannot recall afterwards, they begin performing the stitch. You follow with your eyes. Their hands are in the same position as yours were. They are ready to do the stitch. And then... The stitch is done. You blink; what happened? The cheery knitter on the screen exclaims "and there we have one completed stitch!". You're confused. You saw no movement of their hands, no transfer of yarn, no process at all. Your brain is covered in cobwebs. The knitting resting on your non-dominant hand is scratchy. You heard the verbal instructions, how could you not, but none of the meaning was able to transfer to your memory.  "Let's do it again," they say, and you ready yourself; the stitch is done. You cannot perceive the instruction. You try in vain to follow with your own hands, but you cannot. This video tutorial was not meant for mortal eyes. You try to follow the next eighteen times as well, even trying to slow down the footage, but it's no use. The video is too powerful. You move on.

Another video follows in the same vein, though it is much shorter; an hour and eighteen minutes. You feel stark relief in the brevity. Your hand is beginning to rash. You skip through the introduction, same as before, and this person seems much more reasonable; she sounds like an older lady, and you follow her instructions and movements easily. The malevolent aura surrounding your soul abates, and you sigh in relieved terror. However, when you move to your own needles and attempt to repeat the process... Your mind blanks. You cannot recall where to put your hands.

This confuses you; you watch the video again. You can, once again, follow it perfectly. You try to imitate... but it is no use. Every time you try, your hands become temporarily posessed by an outside entity. You can understand, but you cannot perform. Sweat trickles off your brow. You haven't blinked in hours. You go back to searching; your hand's rash is spreading. 

You try one more video. It looks very similarly to the second, and you watch in tense anticipation. The technique used by this person, though it uses the same name, is done in a completely different way; there are no similarities. How can this be the same stitch? You try to imitate this time, and you can. You blink for the first time in days and your eyes nearly cry with relief. Although, you are still unsettled... Why the difference in technique? What was the other lady doing? Was it not meant for the hands of beings such as yourself? What are you missing? 

You head to the forums to find out. 

 "-- stitch vs. !? stitch?" 

 Irrelevant. 

 "-- stitch scarf curling?" 

 Unhelpful. 

 "Help: -- stitch is keeping my soul captive?" 

Not what you're looking for.

Finally, you find a relevant looking post: "Correct way to do -- stitch?" The dilemma described is almost exactly like your own. You excitedly look at the replies: 

 "Oh, you're using THAT stitch? I much prefer !? stitch instead. It's much neater. Do that." 

 "Oh, you're using THOSE needles? I much prefer needles made of uranium. Gives a better skin feel."

 "Oh, it doesn't matter, dear. Use whatever you're comfortable with!" 

You turn your tired head down towards the mostly-knitted scarf in your lap. You haven't moved your neck in months. It is painful. The rash has burst into flames that are licking at your tender skin; you panickedly rush to toss your knitting away. You do NOT want it getting burned. Once it is safe, you sigh in relief. That paltry mistake could have cost all your hard work!! 

You are still on fire. You feel calm.

After dousing yourself so that you may continue your work, you find yourself content with the knowledge that now you know exactly how the stitch is done; you do not need to brave any more internet tutorials, thank goodness. 

 --- 

 You finish the scarf. It has a hole. You did the stitch wrong.

[preraphaelitepunk]

Fictober Day 17: The Love Language of Scarves

Prompt #17: There is just something about them

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley

Rating: Teen (a little bit of cursing)

Warnings: None

On AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843936/chapters/50118575

Love can be shown in countless different ways: a touch on the shoulder, a warm smile, time spent together, tasks taken on to save someone else the bother, little gifts, actually saying it out loud, cuddles, kisses, more . . . vigorous activities. After his great falling out with Heaven (to be distinguished from an actual Fall from Heaven), Aziraphale had enjoyed trying out all the methods with Crowley. He was aiming for a nice mix, though he tended mostly toward words, touches, and smiles. Crowley, though, had always been consistent, for millennia: he showed his love with acts and gifts. Words came harder for him, though practice was slowly easing the way.

“Ready for lunch, angel?” The bookshop’s bell jingled as the door swung closed behind Crowley.

Putting on his coat, Aziraphale said, “Indeed. You’re looking particularly lovely today, my darling.”

“Vile flatterer. I thought angels were supposed to be truthful.”

“I may be guilty of downplaying your appearance, but not of flattery. You look absolutely ravishing.” He enjoyed the faint blush creeping up the other’s sharp cheekbones.

As Aziraphale joined him, Crowley said, far too casually, “Oh, by the way, this is for you.” He handed Aziraphale a tissue-paper-wrapped package. It had tiny silver sparkles embedded in the paper, and was tied with a cream ribbon.

“How lovely, dear. Thank you!” Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek. “Shall I open it now?”

“If you like. Doesn’t matter.”

It was a scarf, in the lightest, most delicate wash of blue. Obviously hand knit, though by someone with enough skill and patience to coax the slender yarn into a pattern of lace that evoked intricate stylized fans, or possibly wings. Judging from the texture, it was cashmere, possibly with some silk blended in.

“It’s gorgeous, darling! I love it.” Aziraphale gave him one of his special smiles, the warmth and joy he reserved just for Crowley. “Wherever did you find it?”

Crowley shrugged, his cheeks reddening a bit more. “Dunno. Just picked it up on the high street somewhere, thought you might like it.”

“Hand knits on the high street? You simply must show me the shop, darling. Usually they only have mass-market stuff, or cheaper hand-made crafts. This must have cost a fortune.”

“Er. Not really. Just a few pounds.”

Aziraphale trusted Crowley implicitly, but he knew utter tosh when he heard it. “Now, I certainly don’t believe that, my dear. It takes hours to finish a scarf, especially a lace pattern like this. Then there’s the quality of the material — cashmere and silk do not come cheaply, poppet, and something this size must have required several skeins. Materials costs alone were probably fifty pounds, to say nothing of labor.” He didn’t mention the emotion emanating off the scarf: it was radiating love, knitted into the fabric like dog hair, though Aziraphale had to admit that wasn’t the most poetic of similes. Dog hair did lodge everywhere, though, and was impossible to get out, so the comparison seemed valid, if inelegant.

Crowley shifted on his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Probably from a sweatshop, then. Drastically underpaid slave labor, hideous working conditions, fast fashion ruining the planet. Good choice for a demon.”

“You know that’s not true, Crowley. I’d be able to feel it if it were.”

Crowley heaved a sigh. “All right, fine, angel. You got me. I made it. Are you happy now?”

“Exceedingly. But I had no idea you knit, dear.”

“’S good stress relief. When I start to worry.” He smiled reassuringly at the wounded-sounding “oh” from Aziraphale and continued, “And I like the yarn. Winding a skein into a ball by hand is soothing, like meditation or something. And the skeins: there is just something about them. They’re like fuzzy, soft little pets. Except you don’t have to feed them, or yell at them like with plants. They’re easy. Pretty.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m glad you find it helpful, love, but you know you can always talk to me when you’re worried.”

“I know, angel.” Crowley took his hand and squeezed. “It’s just, sometimes you need something that you can do for yourself.”

“I understand.” Lifting their hands, Aziraphale pressed his lips to the soft, precious skin on the inside of Crowley’s wrist. “But please remember I’m always here whenever you need me, no matter what, no matter why. Wherever did you learn to knit?”

“In Hell. I was stuck down there cooling my heels — you know how it was, they’d call you down there for an update and then they’d be too busy to meet with you, keep you hanging around for yonks — and I got bored. Hastur taught me.”

Aziraphale tried to imagine the Duke of Hell with knitting needles and fuzzy skeins of yarn. He failed. “Hastur. The one with the filthy mac and the rather unfortunate smell of, um, manure?”

“That’s the bunny. Be funny if there were another Hastur running around, but as far as I know there’s just the one.”

“One is quite enough, dear.”

“Good point. He’d made a big black scarf for Ligur, and said it helped him. Focusing on something simple that you can control, and doing one tiny thing correctly over and over again. You can see your progress, your success. It makes a nice change from the rest of life in Hell, certainly. Anyway, he said it was good for handling stress, and suggested I try it. I was certainly stressed, so I did. And I liked it.

“Er, forgive me, dear heart, but I’m having a bit of difficulty imagining a knitting circle in Hell.”

“Nah, fiber arts are pretty popular, but you’re right: people don’t think it fits with the whole ‘big, scary demon’ image. We keep it on the down low, but it was kind of ni — er, enjoyable for a bunch of us to get together occasionally and bring out the wool and the booze, catch up on gossip.”

“But why? I can’t imagine there’s much demand for fuzzy scarves and warm sweaters in Hell.”

“You’d be surprised. It’s in the basement, and it gets damp and chilly sometimes. Quite a lot of the time, actually. But not everyone knits. Ligur did really disturbing cross stitch.”

Aziraphale tried to imagine this. “‘Curse this mess,’ that sort of thing?”

“More like ‘I love the sound of screaming in the morning’ or ’Eat a bag of dicks and die, human scum,’” Crowley laughed. “With flowers and skulls in the borders. He said he liked making art by repeatedly stabbing something.”

“I can imagine.”

“Dagon says that’s why she does needle felting. Well, I say ‘needle,’ but I’ve seen her use her teeth when she’s particularly het up. Makes little wool sculptures in anime style, with the hair the Hellhounds shed. The one she made of Beelzebub was classic; pity they burned it on sight.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re jesting, surely.”

“No! Swear to — to Somebody.”

“So what does Beelzebub do?”

“Macrame.”

“What, like plant hangers and wall hangings?”

Crowley shrugged, but his grin was wide. “I guess they like ropes and knots. So did Heaven have a knitting circle?”

The very concept of Gabriel or Michael sitting cozily with their knitting made a heretical giggle bubble up Aziraphale’s throat. “Not likely. I can’t imagine anything so human as that would be encouraged.”

“So no hobbies at all? Gabriel doesn’t collect stamps? Uriel doesn’t make pottery?”

The giggles were getting harder to stifle. “Sandalphon could bake bread. He’d enjoy punching down the dough.”

“Michael could do paper cutting; she’d like using a razor knife.”

“Oh, she definitely would like that. Sharp and precise and unforgiving.” Aziraphale laid his cheek against Crowley’s shoulder. “I don’t have a hobby, either,” he said, a little mournfully.

Crowley made an “ngk” noise and gestured around the bookshop with his free hand. “What do you call all this, then?”

“Oh. But I don’t think that counts, really. I’d like to do more with my hands. Baking, perhaps?”

“Could do. Or,” Crowley gave him a little squeeze, “I could teach you how to knit. Once you’ve learned, you could work on something simple while you’re reading: two birds with one thingie.”

“One stone, I believe.”

“That can’t be right. What do birds want with stones?”

“I don’t think they want much at all with them. I believe you’re supposed to throw the stone at the birds and kill them.”

“Urgh. Hastur probably came up with that one. Two birds with one birdbath, then.”

“Much nicer.”

“‘M not nice. Just don’t see the point in killing birds for no reason.”

“Of course, my dear. My evil, naughty old serpent.”

“Naughty indeed. And don’t forget it.”

“So will you?”

“Teach you to knit? Sure, if you like. But for now,” Crowley sat up and retrieved the scarf from Aziraphale’s lap, wrapping it securely around the angel’s neck and tucking the ends into his coat, “we have a lunch date.”

[rusalkii]

How dare there be predictable consequences of my actions. Very inconsiderate of the universe, really.

It turns out that when I disappear into the woods for a weekend, spend all of Tuesday evening at a meetup, and then all of the next weekend either on a bus (20 hours of bus! this is really an excessive amount of bus) or with @ghostofasecretary, I don't have time for things. Who'd have ever thought. Also, my past self who was an idiot and didn't study made my Wednesday absolutely miserable, and if I fail that exam I deserve it. I will probably not fail that exam because the predictable consequences of my actions usually do not go so far as to cause me to fail exams, and therefore I never fucking learn, but that's a different matter. Getting a good grade rather than a mediocre grade is still worth putting some effort into. I have been doing quite well this semester at getting homework done (excluding Wednesday just now), but especially for the class I just had my exam in that by no means guarantees an understanding of the material. Studying! 3 hours/class/week is not an unreasonable amount of time to dedicate to this. I'm going to try to do pomodoros to consistently keep track of time. If I don't know what to do, first I should focus on reading the textbook and getting my notes typed up well. Then I should think through any parts that I feel don't make sense, and (for Stat and 216) doing the optional problems and (for Stat and 250) working through homework and worksheet problems I got wrong. I know studying never feels like a high priority activity, but half the reason my week just fell apart was because I felt desperately unprepared for the exam and got overwhelmed. Don't do that again. The pattern of too many urgent things -> can't prioritize -> everything falls to pieces is also not good. I need to remember to triage, and absent that just picking one thing and working on it is better than what happened. I know how to do this, I just didn't. Avoiding things because I can't finish all of them doesn't make anything better. Half is better than none.

Socials! ...well, I spent two days with Ghost? I skipped ballroom to go to the SSC meetup, which I endorse, and then again to study, which I kind of failed at doing and which should not have happened. I did not go to any others club meetings or do social things with people on campus, which... was the best thing to do given the hand dealt to me but given that I was the dealer I don't actually think I should let myself off the hook here. Ugh. I don't care that much about having friends on campus in and of itself but not having people I can easily regularly interact with in person is really bad for me. Trying to make more close friends in rat or SCA circles in the area would be nice, but do I know how to make friends no I do not. It takes so much time and it's terrifying and you never know if actually you're being judged and found wanting. Acquaintances you like and have mutual hobbies with are so low stress, why can't I just stick with those? Anyway. This is not productive and I don't actually know how to make it productive beyond aiming to do another on campus social thing this week and not skipping ballroom. Maybe kill two birds with one stone and meet up with M and speak Russian. Next Saturday I'm going to Coronation with a non-SCA friend, so that's nice. Internships! Interview with the tech company finally scheduled for next Friday, good god they're slow. Need to email R and T (R: something something you said you knew of professors on campus could we talk about that also is the club happening best Kira) (T: I asked about getting lunch, can we do that.). Because everything is terrible there are already deadlines I've passed, the time to figure out if I can snag a place doing research with someone interesting is now because otherwise I will have to figure it out concurrently with writing cover letters, which are hell. Also, DO YOUR FUCKING RESUME. Being a human being with a life and things! I need to figure out how many dollars I can spend per month until I graduate depending on a couple different assumptions because it turns out that doing all of your budgeting based of the "flinch away from the concept of ever spending money" principle is not actually advisable. I kind of abstractly want to ever have contact with my maternal grandfather but I don't know what to do about that so it's just going to sit here as a sentence. I should make sure I actually know the status of the thing where people keep wanting to pay for me to be the Bay Area for some reason (the SSC meetup was interesting, I should grab at plot hooks more), which means I need to message B. I need to have my headscarf finished by coronation, which should be quick, and ideally sew trim onto my purple dress and/or finish the goddamn seams of the green. It would be nice to make my underdress in case it's cold but that's probably not going to happen. I want to start a hat for Ghost with my new yarn. I should add RIM to my calendar and meditate on winter plans, by which I mean talk to Dad about them. It would be nice to call TsL.   Paying attention to lectures! Nope. Physically painful. Could be self studying, but I'm not. Literally go sit somewhere instead of the lecture and read the corresponding textbook chapter? This only works for Stat because I can't miss the others even if I want to. Physically leaving my phone at home was suggested. This also sounds physically painful but frankly I need to either give up on going or try something new, this isn't working. I wish I could schedule the tree app to automatically launch at a particular time.

Meta: this is late because Bus Hell and then Ghost, who is significantly more interesting than my life. I keep not doing specific action items from here because I forget they exist. My current todo list situation is Dubious but all possible todo list situations I've tried have various disadvantages so I'm not certain what to do about this. The single advantage of my current todo list situation is that it's Google's, which means I can have it as sidebar in my email and it integrates with Google calendar. I should... get something with a functioning desktop app or google chrome extension and phone widget with a Google calendar integration that also supports such magical features as "tags" and then maybe I'll be able to write down low priority items without either loosing them or the high priority ones. Note to get back to this entire thing when I'm not on a bus and add the important parts to my current list and search for a new list app.

[cutiecrates]

Cutie Reviews: YumeTwins March 19

Okay, so here I am with the real March YumeTwins box.

This months theme: Spring Companions

“The cold and harsh Winter Season is drawing to a close and Spring is coming! There’s so many things we love about Spring here at YumeTwins, like the fresh buds and flowers appearing and of course all the cute baby animals that are born in Springtime! But the absolute best part of Spring in Japan is the Cherry Blossom or Sakura! There’s nothing more we love than to sit under the Cherry Blossoms and have a picnic, if you have the chance to no matter where you are in the world you should try too! To get everyone excited for Spring we decided to go with the theme Spring Companions for March’s box! In this Spring Companions box you’ll find a couple of kawaii fluffy companions as well as some more useful companions with lots of pastel and vivid Spring colors, so we hope you’ll enjoy them!“

Contest Prize

Yume Prize

Disney Dreamy Plushie

Our first item is this really cute, fluffy plushie of Marie, from Arisocats (an older Disney movie, which I LOVED when I was a child). Besides Marie we could also get Dumbo, Minnie Mouse, and Miss Bunny (the girl bunny from bambi, she is extremely popular in Japan). Each character features a lovely pastel color scheme and adorable flowers, pearls, and/or star accents.

Marie is also my favorite Disney character, along with Minnie Mouse and Piglet. So I was very happy to see/get her, although the Minnie Mouse was pink so I this would have been my second choice.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Well we all know how much I like plushies and stuffed dolls/toys, especially when they’re huggable and soft~ This one is perfect with that in mind, it’s shape fitting right in my arms for full snuggles~

Besides that, the detail on this is really nice. Not only does it add to the dreamy aesthetic, but its done very cleanly. I just wish there was a little bit more, like maybe they could have added a few tiny stars/flowers or more pearls? It’s only a suggestion though, I still think they’re plenty cute.

I did notice a few tiny little minuscule details that bothered me though. Such as the fact they collect hair and whatever else like nobody’s business. Besides that, they also have that obnoxious seam around the middle, the one where the material is a lot thinner and stands out in comparison to the rest of the plush? I also found a few small loose yarn strands...

Anyway, none of this changes how much I like the plush. The yarns can be fixed, it won’t be hard to keep it cleaned. It’s so sweet and even though it is essentially just a head, I think it’s very nice.

Animal Face Pouch

Our next equally fluffy cuteness is this pouch, shaped like a bear, puppy, or cats head; in 7 different styles! They each have a different leather strap color and inside patterned fabric; like my bear, who has a pink dot print.

Besides being a great, small size to fit into objects, you can also attach it to your bag or items if you lack room, or even carry it around your wrist or a strap.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

As many pouches as I have now because of these boxes, I think this one would be one of my top favorites. It’s very fluffy and cuddly-soft, and very cute too. I love how versatile it is and it’s pretty fun, using it as a hand held purse one day to a purse accessory the next. It has decent room on the inside for being a smaller pouch, and it’s very light weight.

Cutesy Organizer Folder

If you’re a long-time reader of this blog then you will probably recognize this design; if you’re new though, then welcome :D this design/pattern is on a Tuxedo Sam cup I got (From a YumeTwins box like a year ago), and still use now.

Besides this adorable design, there is also 2 different Kirby, and a Pompompurin available.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

As much as I complain about getting these (due to my belief I no longer need them), I will acknowledge that they are useful- and I’m sure at some point I will need something to put important documents in, or just letters, pictures, coloring pages, or drawings I want to save and have no where else to put them.

Anyway, I love how this matches my cup, even if I realistically wouldn’t have a reason to put them together. So as you can probably tell it is bent, but at the same time I’ve been feeling this material and it’s a lot less stiff than my other files have been. I can’t really explain it but it feels really nice.

Kawaii Key Holder

Our next item is this key holder, which was available in 5 different colors and themes: this brown Rilakkuma, a pink and white Korilakkuma, 2 Sumikko Gurashi (one light blue, one light green), and a yellow gudetama.

The key holder has two clips, one for each key, as well as a two other loops to connect it to various things. The string is 65cm long.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

At the time I don’t personally have keys of my own (I can’t be the only one right?? I know I probably should...), but I still think this is a cute and creative item. It could also be used for other things though, and it also just makes a cute accessory.

Disney Highlighter Pen

Our next item is this cutesy double-sided highlighter featuring black and white drawings of Disney pairs; like this pink and purple one features Donald and Daisy. There was also a lime and peach one featuring Mickey and Minnie, and a blue and yellow Chip and Dale one. There are 2 other sets but they’re not in the picture.

With that in mind... I’m not a big Daisy fan and I love Minnie Mouse, so I kind of wish I got that one. But I prefer the colors on this one, so I’m not really sure which one I would have wanted if I got the choice...

This is how they look when used. They’re brighter than they look on here/in the pic though.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

It’s small and smooth shape makes it easy to carry in a variety of items, and highlighters can be pretty handy, so I like how it’s dual sided rather than being several separates.The quality of the highlighter is great, and I like the color contrast to the black and white design.

Tumbler Set

Our final item is this 3-set of Tumbler cups, available in either a cute pastel Rilakkuma theme, or a colorful and bright Splatoon theme (oddly enough both sets feature the same base colors but different tones, and come with yellow straws). These Tumblers come in the shape of a fast-food cup with 3 included plastic, re-usable straws, and when not being used, the cups and lids can be stacked to take up less storage space.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

I like Splatoon and Rilakkuma, so I would have been fine with either set. I have a bunch of lidded cups I really like to use, but I always love to add to my “collection“ so I really like these :3 the designs are unique and very fun to look at, and they seem to be really sturdy so I feel like unless you’re really careless it shouldn’t be that easy to spill using them.

I also like that you get a set of 3, so you could easily share these.

♡ Cutie Ranking ♡

Content - 4.5 out of 5. I don’t sound super-ecstatic or anything, but I actually really, really liked these items. As usual, I feel like half of it will be useful to me, while the other half might not be (for now), but I felt like all of the items are really nice quality and well thought out.

Theme: 4 out of 5. The theme is Spring Companions, and yes, I’d say in that sense these items greatly count as a companion, as you would bring them with you. But when I think spring, besides pretty pastels I think flowers play a pretty big role and I kind of wish they would have included more flowery items.

Total Rank: 9 out of 10. Like I said, I’m not 100% sold on how they carried out the theme but I do really like the items, and they offer a lot of practicality. I don’t know if I’m a bit biased because of how disgruntled the last box left me, or if I really just like this one that much more.

♡ Cutie Scale ♡

1. Animal Pouch - It’s so ultra-fluffy, I just want to cuddle it~

2. Disney Plushie - I love how soft it is, and it’s dreamy inspired design and detail is very pretty~

3. Highlighter Pen - I mentioned this above, but I really like how the white and black tube contrast the colorful ink. It’s very fun to look at.

4. Tumbler Set - I love how the bright colors contrast the rest of the items, and who doesn’t like Splatoon? I love how you get a set of them, and I like how we have 2 stylish designs based on the game, and a cutesy one covered in adorable colorful squid~

5. Key Holder - I like all the metal bits on it :3 I also think this would be a lot of fun to wear as an accessory until I actually find a more practical use with it.

6. Organizer File - This one is really cute, but out of all the items I feel like this one would either get no use, or very little use.

[spacerockwriting]

Like Home

Thanks to @littlerose13writes for the prompt!

Day 2: Molly’s Christmas Jumpers

Read on A03

The first winter Albus is in Hogwarts, he goes to pull on a warm jumper from his Gran. The dungeons are cold this time of year, and the comfort of home brings him back to the place he’d rather be. As of right now, he hates Hogwarts, and he hates school, and he hates almost everything magic. He misses his mum and dad, and even his little sister.

The only plus side of Hogwarts so far is one person, and that’s his best friend Scorpius. Scorpius was currently his only friend at school. He was the first person that didn’t laugh at Albus, or succumb to the stupid nickname of Cry Baby Slytherin.  Scorpius was kind; he was thoughtful, and he was the best possible friend Albus could imagine.

One particularly cold evening Scorpius notices Albus pulling out the warm garment. Its hand knitted, he can tell, but it doesn’t seem to be designer or even look to be from a store. He knows it’s probably a family thing, because he notices the same type of knitted sweater on several other students at the school, most being family members of Albus.

“Albie,” Scorpius asks one day while they were sitting on their beds. It was almost curfew for first years, and they had been doing a lot more studying for end of term finals. Scorpius notices Albus huddled tight in one of the worn jumpers.

That was another thing Scorpius noticed about the jumpers. They were always well worn and always very loved in. He could see how some of them had frayed and started to unwind, and how some of them had ripped holes in them. All of them appeared to be the same pattern, however.

“Yeah?” Albus looked up from where he was sitting.

“What’s with the jumper? I’ve seen them around the school, on your brother and cousins. How come?”

Albus scoots his sleeves over his hands. “Oh. Gran makes them every Christmas. One for everyone in the family. I’ve gotten them since I was born. Sometimes she does our names, but lately she’s starting to get more creative and do pictures. I guess it’s hard when some people have the same letters in their names.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Scorpius tugs his blanket closer to his body.

“Did you want to borrow one of mine? I have an extra. It’s from the Christmas before last.” Albus goes to rummage in his trunk and pulls the old jumper out, handing it to Scorpius.

Scorpius tugs the jumper on. It’s a bit tight, as Albus is a bit smaller than him, but it’s warm, and he takes comfort in the warm item in their cold dormitory.

Scorpius hopes one day to have a jumper of his very own.

Scorpius does not want to go home this holiday. He does not want to be home with just his father in the cold, cold, manor. He doesn’t want to be reminded of carols he sang last Christmas with his mother, or the crest fallen snow she so adored. Scorpius wants to skip Christmas, skip everything.

But he needs to be with his father this year. His father needs him, as they’re all they’ve got left now. His father’s parents are getting older, and his mother’s parents are still in mourning. Scorpius does not want to be around so much dread, but he knows he’s got no choice.

The evening before they leave for the train, Albus receives a thick parcel. Albus tells Scorpius he can’t open it until they’re on the train tomorrow, much like how they always do their gifts. Since they can’t be together on the holiday, the train ride is the next best thing.

Scorpius snags the last compart on the train, much like he does since he’s started Hogwarts. Him and Albus like sitting where no one can bother them, and they like to spread in the compartment and just be together before they’re both sent home.

It’s Scorpius’ first Christmas without his mum, and Albus doesn’t ask him anything. He was at the funeral; he knows Scorpius isn’t happy with it.

“I got you a present,” Albus says to Scorpius. “If you still want it,” he says.

Scorpius’ eyes light up, but only slightly. They haven’t sparkled since last year. “I got you something, too. Mine first,” Scorpius says, and Albus just nods. Albus unwraps a new sketchbook, similar to the one he always carries around with him. He smiles at Scorpius.

“Thanks, Scorp. I love it. My old one is almost done.”

“I know! I saw you using it during History of Magic last week. It’s really good. You’re a good drawer.”

Albus blushes; compliments still make him nervous. He never knows how to respond. But, he decides, Scorpius is probably like his mum, or his Gran: they’d like his art no matter how terrible it is.

“I hope you don’t mind this; I couldn’t find that book you wanted.” Albus had spent hours searching for that copy of that one book Scorpius had wanted this year. As far as Albus knew, it was currently out of print and wouldn’t be printed for another year or so, since it was a textbook used at one of the other magical schools. He hands Scorpius over the lumpy package.

As the blond unwraps, his eyes widen. Inside was a jumper, hand knitted. It was different colours, with patches all over. There was a note attached, too, and Scorpius goes to read it.

Scorpius,

Albus told me about your mother passing away. I’m so terribly sorry, dear. I know we have not met, but anyone who befriends my ickle Albie is a friend of mine, and everyone deserves to have the comfort and warmth of a mother’s hug.

Don’t be a stranger, dear.

Hugs and kisses,

Molly (Albus’ Gran)

Scorpius’ smile creeps back to his face. “Al, I love it! It’s great!” He slips the jumper on and immediately feels the warmth and comfort of a warm hug.

“I know it’s not the same as your own mum but—“

Scorpius nods, and wraps his arms around himself. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and it’s the best thing he’s received all year.

He wears it until the threads fall apart.

The final winter holiday of the year is an exciting one. All the family are gathered in the Burrow, Scorpius and his father included. Since starting Hogwarts, the Malfoys and the Potters had become somewhat acquaintances, and even tolerated each other enough for their son’s sake. Their sons, who were now boyfriends.

This was the first real Christmas the two had spent together. Last Christmas Albus was nursing a broken heart, and now, it was mending. Scorpius couldn’t be happier to stand beside his boyfriend in his grandmother’s house for the holidays.

Everyone was gathered, and those who weren’t, would be arriving soon.

“Where’s your brother?” Scorpius asks, sipping on his cup of cider.

“Being fashionably late, like always.” Albus rolls his eyes, and when he hears a thump, and a cry of James Potter, he knows his brother has arrived.

James had gotten signed right out of Hogwarts to play quidditch. Since then, his life has been training and matches, and whatever sorts of calendar shootings, interviews, and anything else that quidditch professionals do. Albus didn’t pay too much attention to his brother’s career.

Albus lets out a snort as his older brother enters the house. James is making a scene, like always. Instead of his usual dark auburn floppy hair, part of it had been dyed the colours of his quiddtch team, with half a side shaved with the team’s initials in it.

“You really had to go and give Gran a heart attack on Christmas, didn’t you?” Albus teases his brother with a smirk. His brother just rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be the one to talk, Albie. I’m not the one that ditched getting a haircut to pierce my lip.” He reaches out to ruffle his little brother’s hair. “’Sides, can’t back down from a bet when you’re on a team. Ask Mum,” James says with a smirk. “Word got around that the Harpies all got pixies in Mum’s first year. Some sort of team comradery. You would know that if you were on a team.” He reaches out to flick his brother’s lip ring.

“Al’s playing quidditch this year,” Scorpius announces. “He made the team second term last year after an injury happened.”

James smirks. “Oh yeah?” He raises a brow at his little brother. “You didn’t tell me,” he says.

“Al’s trying to be quiet about it,” Scorpius replies. “So he doesn’t get too stressed and, well.” Scorpius doesn’t continue, and James goes quiet.

Whenever fifth year is brought up, James goes quiet, which is abnormal. Although, Scorpius is pretty sure that seeing your little brother in a hospital with tubes tied to him is something that is haunting. For himself, to see Albus wrapped in hospital gowns and tubes, was haunting.

He doesn’t want to think about that.

“Okay, okay,” Molly calls. “It’s time for gifts,” she calls out, and it’s like everyone is a child again. The grandchildren all scatter to their respective spots, Scorpius keeping his hands linked to Albus. The adults all gather on the various couches.

When the packages are all sorted out, Molly stands back and waits, before saying, “Okay, go!” Paper is thrown about, and cheers, moans, and groans all erupt simultaneously. Some are thrilled with their colours, some aren’t.

Scorpius sits back and watches his boyfriend open his parcel. Everyone knows they’re jumpers, but everyone is still surprised regardless, or at least acts surprised. Molly smiles, watching as her children and grandchildren open their gifts.

“Oh, I forgot,” she says and goes over to hand one of the parcels to Scorpius. “Sorry dear, I didn’t see you behind Albus. Happy Christmas, Scorpius,” she says and bends down to kiss his cheek.

Scorpius unwraps the parcel and smiles at it. It’s the same patchwork of colours and yarn from the jumper Molly had knitted him after his mother died. Al had told him that it had so many various pieces of yarn because she didn’t have enough of one colour. The theme seems to be replicated in this jumper, only with one noticeable difference. In silver script seems to be the name Scorpius written across the breast of where a pocket would be.

“Welcome to the family dear,” Molly says as Albus kisses Scorpius on the lips softly.

Scorpius puts the jumper on and all feels warm again.

It feels like home.

[ironwoman359]

A Sanders Carol Chapter Eight

A Sanders Carol Masterlist

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Epilogue

Summary: Dr. Logan Sanders is perfectly satisfied with his life, thank you very much. He has his work, he has his position. His bills are paid, and his lifestyle is primed for optimum health. And he is far too busy maintaining his perfectly balanced lifestyle to worry about things like Christmas, much to the dismay of his few remaining friends. Hardened by years of working to get ahead in his field, nothing is capable of swaying his cold heart, not even the dire straits of his graduate assistant or the pleas of his closest friends.He also does not believe in ghosts.So when he suddenly finds the ghost of his old mentor in his apartment warning him of three more spirits to come, what will he choose to believe? Will Logan take the spirits’ words to heart in time to change his ways, or will the fate of his future be sealed forever?

Pairings: Platonic LAMP/T, Platonic Logicality (could be read as pre-romantic)

Warnings (for the whole fic): Death mention, illness, hospitals, allusions of child abuse/neglect, ghosts, lying/deception, Deceit character, crying, angst, please let me know if I need to add anything!

Chapter Word Count: 2,541

Logan stared in disbelief at the sight of Patton sobbing his heart out, but before he could even properly process it, the scene began to shift and change again. Logan gripped the spirit’s arm tighter as the vision of his four heartbroken friends faded away.

“Wait! What happened?” he pleaded. "What...why would I say that? How could I say those things, to Patton of all people, I..." Logan trailed off as the ghost turned to him, his expression solemn. 

He considered the fact that, if he were mad enough, he could see himself saying things similar to what Patton had described.

“Patience,” was all the ghost said, before he turned back to watch as yet again a new scene appeared before them.

They were watching Joan again, following them as they walked out of the science building at the university and down the street. Logan recognized the route they were taking, and glanced up at the spirit.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?” he asked, and while the ghost didn’t respond, he did smile down at Logan before turning his gaze back towards Joan.

Sure enough, the two of them were soon following Joan through the doors of The Gallery, Virgil’s cafe. Logan glanced around the warmly lit space as Joan stood in line for coffee. It showed how long it’d been since he’d been there that even in this muted color scheme, he could tell Virgil had made quite a few changes. The art on display was different, of course, but Virgil updated those displays once a week. What struck Logan the most was the difference in furniture arrangement, and the addition of several new menu items, all named after classic art pieces and artists, as usual.

“What name on your order?” the girl behind the counter asked, pulling Logan out of his thoughts.

“Joan.”  

“Joan? Joan Stokes?” a voice echoed, causing both Logan and Joan to turn.

Thomas was seated at one of the tables, a cup of coffee in his hands. Virgil was sitting across from him, and now both of them were looking over at Joan with interest.

“Yes?” Joan asked hesitantly.

“I thought I recognized you. You were my cousin’s grad assistant, weren’t you?” Thomas asked.

“Oh...you mean Dr. Sanders? Uh, y-yeah, I uh, I was,” Joan said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

Thomas picked up on their discomfort quickly, and smiled a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad, and I’m not going to yell at you or anything.” He nodded towards the coffee that was now being pushed across the counter towards them. “Do you have a minute to sit with us?”

Joan shrugged.

“Sure, I guess,” they said, reaching into their pocket to retrieve their wallet.

“Don’t worry about that,” Virgil piped up from behind Thomas. He nodded to the girl working the counter. “Put it on the house, Ari.” The girl nodded, then smiled at Joan before turning her attention to the next customer.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Joan started, but Virgil waved them off.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least we can do.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still not sure what this is about?” Joan asked, taking a sip of their coffee.

“Well, first of all, I’m Thomas Sanders, and this is my friend Virgil Picani,” Thomas said.

Virgil smiled at Joan and threw them a two fingered salute.

“Uh, I’m Joan. Joan Stokes, they/them pronouns, please.”

Thomas smiled and nodded, but his smile quickly faded and he looked down at his hands.

“So, um...haha, I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted. “I didn’t plan this or anything, I just...I saw you there, and I felt like I had to talk to you, um…”

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly, taking a drag from his own mug of coffee.

“You’re the one that filed the complaint, aren’t you?” he asked matter-of-factly, looking at Joan with one eyebrow raised. “The one that led to Logan’s suspension.”

Joan stiffened as they looked back and forth between Virgil and Thomas.

“Uhhh, I, uh…” they stammered, but Thomas shook his head quickly.

“No no, it’s not like that! I figured it must have been you, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. But I’m not mad at you or anything, Joan. In fact...” Thomas took a deep breath, then smiled again. “I think it took a lot of courage for you to do what you did. It’s commendable.”  

“I just...didn’t want to work with him anymore,”Joan admitted. “I was only trying to see if I could get transferred to another professor or something. I didn’t mean for him to get suspended on grounds of verbal abuse.”

“That’s not your fault,” Virgil insisted. “He...well, he’s complicated, but that doesn’t excuse how he treated you.”

“That’s what Talyn says too,” Joan admitted, smiling a little.

"Talyn?" Virgil asked.

"My partner...they're the one who convinced me to file a complaint."

Virgil nodded appreciatively.

"They sound smart," he said, and Joan visibly relaxed a bit.

“And that’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Thomas added. “Logan...he’s my cousin, but he’s like a little brother to me. My dad raised both of us together, and after everything that’s happened, I feel as though I owe you an apology.”

Joan shook their head, smiling a bit more warmly.

“No no, that’s alright. It wasn’t your fault either; I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Maybe not,” Thomas smiled back. “But still. If you ever need anything, let me know.”  

“Thank you,” Joan said as the scene began fading away from Logan’s vision. “I will.”

“Verbal abuse?!” Logan asked quietly as the last remnants of the vision disappeared. “How...how did that happen?"

The ghost looked down at him, a solemn yet slightly amused expression on his face.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Future, Logan. You know your past better than I.”

Logan’s face burned, and he looked away, folding his arms.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear,” he said quietly.

“Perhaps,” the ghost said, and Logan caught a hint of sympathy in his voice. “But we are not yet finished here.”

Logan looked up to see another vision, this one even blurrier around the edges, with the perspective farther away than the others had been. It showed Joan introducing Talyn to Thomas and Virgil in The Gallery, Talyn looking impossibly thin, but excited. He saw their mouths moving, but couldn’t make out what they were saying; it was as if he was trying to listen to them from underwater.

The image shifted, and it showed everyone gathered at Roman’s theater, presumably after a performance judging by the massive bouquet of roses Patton had shoved excitedly into Roman’s arms. Roman was in costume, and from the looks of things was complimenting Talyn’s eyeshadow, which even in near grayscale Logan could tell was impressive.

Another shift, and this time it was just Patton, sitting alone in a rocking chair with a giant basket of different colored yarns at his feet and a list in his hand. He was writing Joan and Talyn’s names at the bottom of the list, and was about to put the piece of paper aside before something stopped him. He looked at the first name on the list, Logan scrawled in a handwriting so messy that it betrayed the youth of the person who had written it. Patton stared at the name for a moment, then sighed and picked up a pencil on the table beside him and quickly drew a line through the name, crossing it out. Quickly, as if he was trying to keep from changing his mind, he shoved the list back into the basket of yarn and picked out the first ball to begin setting his needle with.

Yet another shift, and it was Patton’s house, modest in comparison to Roman’s but filled with the same warmth and holiday cheer from the tiny apartment back from his first year of teaching. Everyone was wearing Patton’s creations, including Joan and Talyn who were sporting matching elf costume patterns on their sweaters. Roman lifted a glass, everyone toasted to the holiday, and towards the back of the crowd of people, Logan saw Virgil put a comforting arm around Patton’s shoulders.

Logan felt the hollowness in his chest grow again at the sight, the emptiness he’d tried so hard to ignore, but couldn’t escape no matter what he tried.

“Please,” he murmured, but the ghost either did not hear him or refused to stop.

Once again, the world shifted around them, and this time the edges were not as blurry as they had been and the sounds were not as muted, evidently this scene had something the ghost wanted him to see more than a few moments of.

Logan leaned forward to get a look, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly as he did. It was the hospital again, and there lying in the bed looking impossibly tiny, was Talyn. Joan stood close by, looking more worried than Logan had ever seen them and clutching Talyn’s hand. A nurse scribbled something on their chart, then turned to leave, and was nearly run over by Patton as he barrelled past.

“Where are they, are they alright?” he asked frantically, and Talyn laughed from their bed, coughing a little as they did so.

“I’m fine Patton...aaand everyone else, too,” they added their eyes growing wide as Thomas, Roman, and Virgil filed into the room behind Patton.

Roman was carrying an enormous teddy bear, Thomas a bouquet of flowers, and Virgil a brown paper bag.

“Thanks for coming, you guys,” Joan said. Their voice was quiet and strained, but a smile managed to worm its way onto their face at the sight of all their friends.

“Of course, Joan,” Thomas replied, placing the flowers down on the table beside Talyn’s bed. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

“Here,” Virgil added, holding out the bag to Joan. “I figured neither of you had eaten, so I brought you some cookies from the cafe.”

Joan reached into the bag, and Talyn leaned forward eagerly.

“Did you bring me a screamer?” they asked, trying to peer around Joan’s shoulder to see the contents of the bag.

Virgil chuckled as Joan pulled out two sugar cookies decorated with frosting to look like the head of the figure in Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

“Of course I did,” he said, as Talyn grinned and took one of the cookies.  

“I have no doubt that you shall conquer this beast!” Roman piped up from the corner where he was trying to get the teddy bear to sit up straight in one of the chairs...and failing spectacularly. “You’ll vanquish your foe and be right as rain in no time at all!”

“Thanks, Roman,” Talyn grinned, but was interrupted by another coughing fit. Frightened glances were exchanged around the room, but Talyn waved them off. “You all worry too much,” they said, forcing a pained smile. “It’s like Roman said, I’ll be right as rain in—” they coughed again, “—in no time.”

“Sorry, Talyn,” Virgil said with a light laugh. “Worrying is how we show affection.”

“If we’re worried about you, it means we care!” Patton piped up, a real smile blossoming across his face.

Logan’s chest tightened as once again he felt an empty hole gnawing it’s way up from his stomach and into his heart. He turned away, not wishing to see any more.

“You’ve made your point,” he said quietly to the ghost beside him, who hovered silently, regarding him with a strange expression. “What?” Logan demand, staring up at him. “What more could you possibly have to show me?”

The ghost sighed, a sound that encompassed both irritation and sympathy.

“It is not I who brought you here, Logan Sanders,” he said quietly. “It was you who brought me.”

“What do you—ah!” Logan yelped in surprise as Patton exited the hospital room by walking directly through him.

“—be right back!” he was saying. “I just have to use the bathroom.”

Logan watched him turn around in a confused circle for a moment, before he shrugged and headed towards the nurse’s station.

“Would help if I knew where it was,” he muttered to himself cheerfully. “Hi!” He said as he approached the woman behind the desk. “I was wondering if you—” 

He was cut off as suddenly the doors behind them burst open and a team of paramedics rushed by with someone on a stretcher. Patton and Logan gasped in unified horror as they both instantly recognized the body as it was rolled by, pale and unmoving.

“Logan?” Patton whispered, his hand flying over his mouth. He started hurrying after the stretcher, but the nurse behind the counter grabbed his arm.

“Let them work, honey,” she said in a firm but kind voice. “Don’t get in their way. If you like, I can send you an update on his condition later. Are you family?”

Patton shook his head, unable to speak.

“A friend then?”

He turned back to face her, his eyes wide and face blank, and then slowly shook his head again.

“No...no, not really. But we...that is, I—” he took a deep breath, then gave the woman a shaky smile. “I...I used to know him,” he said, before turning away to go back to the others.

Logan found himself face to face with his old friend, who looked so tired, so empty.

“Patton?” he asked as they locked eyes. But Patton passed through him again, unseeing, and Logan whirled around. “Patton!” he cried, but there was no response.

The scene began to fade from his vision as Patton made it back to Talyn’s room and wordlessly collapsed into a surprised Thomas’s arms, his shoulders shaking gently with sobs.

“Patton!” Logan was screaming now, reaching out trying in vain to grab hold of something, anything, to reach him, he had to reach him! 

“PATTON! PLEASE, PATTON, I’M HERE! I’M HERE PATTON, I’M OKAY, I’M SORRY!”

The scene was gone now, replaced with nothing but blackness but Logan didn’t stop, tears streaming down his face as he desperately yelled, his voice growing raw.

“PATTON YOU WERE RIGHT I’M SO SORRY, I WAS WRONG, PATTON, I’M SORRY, PLEASE, PATTON PLEASE!” 

Logan choked on his sobs as he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as an outpouring of emotion was released. He cried, for five minutes or five hours, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t know anymore, didn’t know anything, not that anything mattered. There wasn’t anything left now, just his tears and the darkness. 

A moment later, or perhaps it was an eternity, he felt a hand on his shoulder, thin and bony but strong. Warm. Real.

“Now,” the Ghost of Christmas Future said, his voice soft and comforting, “you understand, Logan Sanders.”

Logan looked up, to see the ghost kneeling in front of him, one hand resting on his shoulder, the hood of his cape pushed back, letting Logan see his pale face more clearly. Without thinking, he threw himself into the figure’s arms, sobbing anew.

The spirit received him, wrapping Logan in his arms and gently stroking his hair as he murmured comfort into his ear.

“There now,” he said with a small smile. “That’s better. Rise now, Logan Sanders. The morning is coming.”

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

[words-writ-in-starlight]

adhd anon again. man, everything in your posf was scary relatable. i zone out for hours when i read, and i tap my fingers in certain patterns, and i pace to think, and i still “wring my hands” when i get particularly excited. and i still run around the house when there’s tension on the tv. basically all of my oddities are explainable now. but i’m like... full of internal ableism and instinctive cringing still. do you have any advice? (and _thank you_ so much for what you’ve already said)

Hey, dude!  So, my first advice is...breathe.  Feeling like your internal landscape and self-image is changing dramatically--whether it’s because you’re realizing you’re queer, figuring out that you actually want to change career paths, or getting that blinding stroke of insight about something like ADHD--is really, really scary.  Like, there’s no delicate way to put it.  It’s flat out scary.  So just take a few deep breaths, and think about the things you understand and trust about yourself.  Watch your favorite movie, splurge on your favorite dinner, listen to your favorite music, and remember that those things you love are still the same as ever, they still affect you in the same way as they ever did.  Take some deep breaths while you’re at it, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and think about how it feels to have your lungs expand and contract--still just like it did yesterday, right?  I really can’t emphasize this enough, this is a moment for some fucking self-care.  So please consider this some gentle, affectionate bullying into taking time for that self-care.  Your ADHD will still be there when you’re done taking a moment for yourself, I promise.

My second piece of advice is, try to keep in mind that everyone has to work through some level of that internalized ableism, so don’t crucify yourself for it.  Being able to acknowledge that it’s there is already a big part of the work.  As far as how to get past that, I can only tell you what works for me, which I think is fundamentally some cognitive behavioral therapy shit?  So it goes like this.  Your brain goes “hey, you can’t have ADHD, because only broken freaks of nature and retards have ADHD.”  You notice that your brain said a shitty thing, and you go “hey, brain, that’s some ableist bullshit, people are people no matter what and having ADHD doesn’t make me any less of a complex and worthwhile human being than anyone else.”  Next time your brain throws out some ableist bullshit, you go “hey, brain, we talked about this, people are people no matter what, etc, etc.”  And so on and so forth, and slowly your brain will throw out less and less ableist bullshit, less and less often, and you’ll learn to cut off the thought earlier on, and eventually you’ll get to a point where you are actually doing a pretty amazing job of not having shitty prejudicial thoughts at all.  It takes time and effort and it sucks, but them’s the breaks.  

(Although, if you’re in the market for other advice, you can do this with a lot of shit.  You’re having depressive, suicidal thoughts?  Go right on ahead and throw out a “hey, brain, actually I have a cat who needs fed and who loves me, and I love the taste of licorice, and I’d be really sad if I never stood in a thunderstorm again, so I will not be doing that.”  You’re struggling to accept that your friends love you?  Hit back with a “hey, brain, my friends tell me they love me every day, and just because you’re an anxiety-ridden mess of neurons doesn’t mean you’re right.”  You’re resisting taking a medication because you think you deserve to be in pain?  “Hey, motherfucker, I’m worthwhile and I deserve to be taken care of, sit down and get out of the way while I take some damn Advil.”  Say that shit out loud if you need to.  It takes time.  Changing behavior, changing well-worn thought processes, changing habits, all those things take time.  But it’ll get you there.)

My third piece of advice is to look at the ways that realizing this is, frankly, a huge boon, and my fourth, related, piece of advice is to learn how you can work with your brain rather than against it.  You have insight into something that, if you’re anything like me, has pushed you to the point of frantic rage and despair for your entire life.  I used to drive myself into frustrated tears because I just could not force myself to focus like a normal person.  I cannot count the number of times I broke down crying over my homework because sitting quietly at the kitchen table was like chewing tinfoil.  I got the homework done!  But I was goddamn miserable every step of the way.  When I started watching TV while I did my homework, I beat myself up for it constantly, because that wasn’t an “acceptable” thing to do, but it was the only way I could resist tearing my hair out while I was doing basic algebra homework.  

Then, I realized in my sophomore year of college that I had ADHD, and I started to be more willing to accept that I just need different things than other people, in order to be able to focus.  I stopped driving myself to distraction by trying to be “normal” and started trying to change the world around me in order to accommodate my needs.  I can’t work in silence?  Cool, I asked my parents to pay for a year of a Spotify Premium account as a Christmas gift and found some podcasts I love for when I’m doing chores, so now I don’t work in silence.  I have trouble sitting still?  All right, I started buying myself nice yarn (tactile stim!) and knitting gifts when I need to focus--knitting hits a lot of good buttons, a nice repetitive fidget with some soothing textures, and frankly I’d really recommend it.  Force all your friends to accept knitwear.  I don’t do well with eye contact all the time?  I downloaded a billion free match-three games onto my phone--I’m on level two thousand nine hundred and fifty of Juice Jam, I’m not fucking kidding about how useful this is.  Having a “reason” for your own unique struggles and oddities (although honestly ‘I have trouble with this thing’ should be enough reason for our trainwreck of a culture, not that I’m bitter) can really free you up to look for ways to play nicely with your brain box.  Embrace it.

My fifth and final piece of advice: reread the Percy Jackson books.  Again, I’m not fucking kidding around.  Representation is so, so important when it comes to getting past that initial cringe response, and for all that we have a long way to go on that, PJO fucking exists already.  Take advantage of it.  Once you’ve done that, think about the characters you connected the most with as a kid, and think about what you connected with--which of those people do you think have ADHD?  I got past a lot of shit by rereading the Animorphs books and assembling a bulleted list of reasons that Rachel has ADHD.  Does it make you cringe in the same way to think of those favorite characters as being ADHD?  Good, that means it’s working.  Keep doing it until you have at least one character who you feel it click for, one character who you get committed to as an ADHD comrade in arms.  Learn to love yourself by loving them.

That’s my advice, dude.  The only other thing I would say is this: if you are in a position to get therapy and feel like you need a helping hand, maybe look into it.  There are counselors of many flavors who have experience with helping people learn to cope with ADHD or other processing disorders, and tbh I am a huge proponent of therapy.  A good therapist is worth their weight in gold.  There’s no shame in needing help, and the only way to beat that shit into your brain is to reach out for help when you need it and yell “I DESERVE THIS, I DESERVE THIS, I DESERVE THIS” until the gremlin muttering prejudicial bullshit in the background shuts up.  

You, uh...may have noticed that my version of “improving my mental health” looks a lot like percussive maintenance, but LISTEN, it WORKS.

[gendzl]

Hey Jo, how does one get into knitting or embroidery or crocheting????? You talk about it sometimes and I would love to get into it but alas I know nothing

Thank you so much for asking this question! I loooove talking about this stuff.

The best way to learn any of these crafts is directly from someone else, because you can have your questions answered right away, and they can help you fix your mistakes before they become problems. If you know someone who crafts in the ways you’re interested in, don’t be afraid to ask if they’re willing to teach you! I personally love showing people how to knit/crochet.

But if you don’t know anyone (and you can afford it), places like JoAnn’s or your local yarn store often offer beginner classes. Youtube is also great!! I’m currently learning how to make socks from a youtube series. Just be sure that if you go this route, you’re watching videos that correspond to your handedness until you’ve got it down pat.

I haven’t done much embroidery. I mostly just admire it, because I find it beautiful but exhausting. It’s significantly more time consuming than knitting or crochet – you sit for hours and only get a few square inches of color out of it. (This is also true of knitting socks, however.) You’ll probably stab yourself much more frequently, too. But if you find such things fulfilling and that’s where you want to invest your time and money, there are plenty of how-to’s on youtube!

I’ll let you choose what you think would be best to start with. Here are the basic materials you’ll need for each!

Knitting: 

Knitting needles! I recommend starting with straight needles in size 8 or thereabouts if you’re just wanting to try it out. They come in metal, bamboo, and acrylic. Which you go with doesn’t really matter, but some people have complained that metal is too slippery for their taste, and I’ve snapped several acrylic needles by accident.

Worsted weight yarn in your preferred color. Here’s a good guide to yarn weights – the little skein with the number is a symbol you’ll find printed on most (branded, not handspun/small batch) labels. I would start with acrylic yarn, since it’s cheap, but you can use whatever you’re drawn to.

Tapestry/Yarn needles, which are fat silver needles with a dull point and an eye big enough to draw yarn through. You’ll use it to weave your tails in after you’re done.

OPTIONAL: Point protectors, stitch markers, and a small crochet hook. Point protectors are little rubber stoppers for the ends of your needles. It saves you from stabbing yourself in the butt, and also from dropping stitches when you aren’t working. You don’t usually need them; I generally just stab my needles through the skein of yarn. As for stitch markers, they help you keep track of knitting/purling/turns/etc. You probably won’t need them until you want to start making things like socks, sweaters, etc. And you don’t have to get anything costly – I use tiny split keyrings and small safety pins. The crochet hook is especially helpful for picking up dropped stitches – I use my smallest hook for that, 1.5mm, but you can also muddle through with your fingers, or rip out a row.

How to cast on + How to knit + How to purl + How to cast off = Now you can make a simple scarf!

Note: There are two ways of knitting – English and Continental [comparison video]. I learned English, and am re-learning Continental because it’s faster.

Crochet:

Crochet hook(s). 4mm is a good middle-of-the-road size to start with. Unlike knitting needles, you only need one full set because they don’t come in different lengths, only different diameters. They’re usually about $2 per hook, but if you want chunky, easy-to-hold handles then the price can hike up to $7 each, and even more if they’re handmade.

Worsted weight yarn, see above.

Tapestry/Yarn needles, see above.

Stitch markers are, again, optional. They’re usually only necessary for circular/tube crochet, which is something you probably won’t start off with (but you can!)

How to chain, How to single crochet, How to double crochet

How to make a granny square. Make a few hundred of these and you’ve got yourself a blanket!

Embroidery: 

Embroidery needles 

DMC thread (draw an arm’s length out and separate the strands – six is almost always too many)

Fabric [how to choose a fabric]

Embroidery hoops. Wood is cheaper than plastic, but plastic doesn’t loosen as much while you work.

Thimble

Optional but recommended items include such things as a pin cushion, a needle minder, and a water-soluble pen for transferring designs onto fabric. I use a pencil.

Other advice:

The absolute best place to find knitting and crochet patterns is ravelry.com. You have to sign up to search patterns, but it doesn’t cost you anything, many of the patterns are free, and it’s a great way to organize your projects!

One thing to take into consideration is that if you’re a person with a somewhat short attention span, or who just prefers to have multiple projects going at once for whatever reason, knitting can be a huge pain. Your work has to stay on your needles until you’re done with the project, and since a lot of patterns use the same size needles, you either gotta buy multiples or you sit around working on a project until you loathe looking at it. With crochet, however, you only have one active stitch at a time, so you can just pull the working yarn out into a big loop, wrap it around your skein, and use the hook for something else without fear of it all unravelling!

If you’re planning on shopping at a big yarn store, Michael’s is almost always cheaper than JoAnn’s, and they always always always have coupons on their website. (As does Hobby Lobby, but they’re expensive and mean so like. Shop at your own risk lol.) Local yarn stores tend to be hecking expensive (needles I pay $8 for at a craft store cost $15 at my LYS) and they’re also often…..elitist. You wouldn’t expect something like this to be clique-y, but here we are.

If you want a low-key place to knit or crochet with other people, public libraries almost always have a group that meets every week or two. Look it up online or ask your local librarian!

I hope you find a craft that suits your fancy! Feel free to ask me more specific questions if you have them. :)