#long stitch binding

[fartsandcrafts]

A notebook I made a year ago and still haven't used! Long stitch binding done with embroidery floss. The video below is the best explanation of the technique I could find, and you can expand it to as many pairs of signatures as you want, and play with the placement of the holes. I hope the diagrams are vaguely helpful in showing the order to sew them in!

Since the holes have to be a little bit apart on the spine, I'd recommend using multiple signatures per hole. You can double back through the signatures to sew two of them in at once but that is Super Not Worth It, so just kettle stitch the additional signatures around the attachment points of the original signatures once you're done.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Every bookbinding tutorial i found online: "DO NOT TRY THE COPTIC STITCH AS A BEGINNER ITS TOO ADVANCED"

Me who has only bound one book before and used a completely different method: "ehh it can't be that hard"

2 hours later

.....I was right. Its not that hard.

[sergeantowl]

I should stop finding myself new hobbies.

[arctic-hands]

Coptic stitch is a really common binding for amateur bookbinders because it's relatively simple. Some people think it's ugly and only suitable for beginners, and obvs if you want a spine for your book Coptic isn't what you want, but I really like it for the history. It was one of the first (or the first, I don't recall off the top of my head when stab binding was developed in Asia) methods of binding, transitioning from scrolls into compiled and methodically put together codices. And yeah, putting my contentions relationship with Christianity aside, it was mostly the Bible and other religious texts (it takes its name from the Coptic Christians who made the codices), but I like how the method has survived after all this time

[ervans]

Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

 From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

[annaplexis]

Jeny’s interlock cast off exactly mirrors the long-tail (and the backward loop) cast on AND is a very good stretchy bind off.

This baby sweater is knit bottom up, but I made the sleeves top down, picking up stitches around the armhole, so to get the same edge on the ribbing, I did the long-tail cast on on the body and the interlock cast off on the sleeves.

[wrioluvr]

christmas with your sub yandere boyfriend ❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

short drabble for today's occasion! merry christmas and happy holidays, everyone! ♡ gn reader, suggestive content

stumbling back to your apartment in an exhausted state, you can't help but lament the fact that you had to work so late on christmas eve, of all days. every hour that passed, came another distressed text from your boyfriend, desperately asking when you'd be back home. when he video called you during your break, he was so excited to spend your first christmas together, he was practically bouncing all over the place. given that he'd been trying to win your affections in any way possible over the past year (especially using his favourite method of clinging to your thighs and begging while sobbing), this was quite possibly the second best day of his life. the first being the day you accepted him as your boyfriend, of course. opening the door, his usual overly enthusiastic greeting, wearing nothing but an apron lovingly stitched with "[name's]" was replaced by an unusual silence. the room was lit by the soft, romantic glow of candles only he'd take the time to carefully set down, but yet he was nowhere to be found. looking at the clock, you realised that it's already past midnight, which meant that it was christmas already. he probably just got tired waiting and went to sleep. seeming to read your mind, your train of thought was interrupted by a bashful, familiar voice coming from the christmas tree the two of you had put up together a few days ago. you look over, and there he was in all his glory. he was naked, the only thing adorning his skin being the pretty red ribbon he'd tied himself up with like a gift, rendering him helpless to your every desire. "hey.... i'm here." he says shyly, looking up at you as you crouched at the base of the tree to meet his eyes. "what in santa's name are you doing?" you sighed, reaching over to loosen his binds. "w-wait! i did this for you... i'm your present! you can do whatever you want with me." his lust-filled eyes shimmer as he fantasises about you having you way with him, while his arms and legs are tied, unable to resist. "merry christmas, darling." he whispers, imploring you to do something to him, anything. this was going to be a long night, wasn't it...? ❆

[cammys-imagines24]

°•Being in a Relationship with Mizu•°

Mizu first met you on her travels and just like with Ringo, there was something about you that made her katana sharp edges soften.

How from day one you never viewed her as an evil Onryo, someone impure who should've died from infanticide long ago.

Through every trial she laid out before you, testing to see how you'd react, you were nothing but understanding.

First when she showed you her eyes you didn't so much as flinch. You smiled at her, warm as ever.

And then when she revealed herself to be a woman you embraced her with open arms.

As Mizu, you and Ringo went on, she found herself looking to you, thinking of you, your presence a balm to her battered soul.

Over time you eroded her walls as sea does to a cliffside.

Surprisingly, the swordswoman was the first to confess her feelings for you.

She told you she loved you when you two were sparring.

When she was teaching you how to fight, you had gotten the upper hand on her and as soon as you pinned her to the ground, laughing and with sweat dotting your brow, you just looked so beautiful that she just blurted out "I love you."

And as soon as she said those words to you she treated it like a sacred vow, more sacred than even her vengeance on those four men who wronged her.

Mizu existed to see her revenge completed but she breathed for you.

When the Samurai came back bloodied, you'd stitch up her wounds and mend her clothes.

When she'd take a swim with you after a tiring day of fighting, you'd personally undo her bindings and massage her sore chest.

Every small act of kindness you did for her out of love rendered her undone, her heart unspooling before you, opening up more and more.

And for every kind thing you did for her she repaid it tenfold.

Mizu would burn down all of Japan and the world for you. She would kill anyone who dare lay a hand on you.

And even with her rough hands, she treated you like delicate porcelain. Almost with reverence.

She never thought a monster like her could be fortunate enough to be with someone like you.

You became her home and as long as you were by her side she knew that when her job was done, that life awaited her.

You remind Mizu of what she needs to come back to, no matter what.

Your love is why she wants to continue to live.

[jewellery-box]

Blue Silk Faille Reception Dress, 1867

3-piece robin's-egg blue faille decorated with cream satin-stitch, tambour and french-knot embroidery, bodice having long sleeve, prong-set oval opalescent buttons; trained skirt with large embroidered repeats above the hem, deep, stiffened hem binding; small separate peplum with embroidered waistband.

[greaseonmymouth]

As you've asked for asks!:

Do you have any quick-and-dirty book/fic binding methods a terrified-of-failure novice could use to bang something out to get over the first collywobbling step of Actually Doing The Thing? (this may be something I've been meaning to ask for ages)

yes! I absolutely do! in my opinion the best quick-and-dirty bookbinding method is a no-glue pamphlet: you don't have to mess with glue or measuring or cutting anything, all you need is your text, some paper, a needle and thread. you can use the same needle to punch holes if you don't have an awl.

this is going to be a little long but that's because I'm going to write out some fairly detailed instructions for an A5 sized pamphlet. If you don't want detailed instructions and think you can glean the necessary info from photos, just skip to the photos! I've also linked tutorials.

for preparing the text to printing, in whatever software you use (word, libreoffice, gdocs, whatever) make sure your document is set to page size A5. make it look readable. then save as/export that document as a straight-paged PDF. now go to the bookbinder JS tool (https://momijizukamori.github.io/bookbinder-js/), and upload the PDF. source manipulation: none printer paper size: A4 display unit (you can ignore, or choose cm if it gives you anxiety that it automatically displays points) printer type: select single-sided or duplex accordingly* rotate paper: ignore flip on long side: check if you are printing duplex and if your duplex printer flips the paper on the long side page layout:  tick folio page scaling: original page positioning: centered ignore the rest flyfleaf: ignore signature format tick: standard signatures. in the length drop down, this depends on the type of pamphlet you are doing. for folio i generally find 4-5 pages per signature a comfortable thickness. if you have 6 whole A4 pages you can still do that as a single signature or you can split it into two signatures 3 pages each. wacky small layouts: ignore this signature info click the generate preview button to see what your PDF looks like imposed! I love this step especially when I'm doing quarto (A6) or octavo (A7) sized books generate output - click this to generate an imposed PDF

for A6 and A7 sized books the instructions are much the same, except for these you make sure the page size is A6 or A7 in your software, and then you choose quarto or octavo instead of folio. for signature length drop down I keep signature length to 1 for octavos typically and 2 for quartos, as this still refers to sheets of paper, and for octavo 1 sheet of A4 paper will turn into 4 smaller sheets in one signature once folded and cut.

*if you don't have a duplex printer you will have to manually turn the paper to print on the other side. I cannot be arsed with this so I bought a printer capable of duplex printing (I didn't have a printer anyway). if you already have a printer check what it can do as you might be surprised and go from there.

now to the pamphlets! you don't need a cover - I have one for the long stitch pamphlet but for the saddle stitch one I didn't bother and just made sure the first page had a title on it. you can always take a different piece of paper and print a cover on or or just use coloured cardstock and create a simple cover, but a cover is not necessary unless you're doing a long stitch pamphlet. all you need to do is to punch holes and start sewing. there are a few different stitch types below, I wouldn't say any of them are more difficult or easier than others, but they do look different so...pick one you like the look of and go from there?

pamphlet stitch (uneven number of holes) I haven't ever done a pamphlet stitch but here's a tutorial for how to do it: https://www.starpointestudio.com/simple-pamphlet-stitch-book-step-by-step/

saddle stitch (uneven number of holes) I realised that what I was thinking of as a pamphlet stitch is actually saddle stitch, as in this A7 pamphlet:

here's a tutorial for how to sew saddle stitch: https://www.bookbindingworkshopsg.com/saddle-stitch-bookbinding-tutorial/ here's a video tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWHkY5jOoqM (sealemon has a lot of bookbinding tutorials and I know many people who like her videos, I used her tutorial for coptic binding way back when I first made a book but I can't otherwise vouch for the quality as I haven't used her videos)

french link stitch (even number of holes) in this one I used french link stitch which I typically use for thicker textblocks that i'm not planning to use tapes with as the french link gives it some robustness, I used it here because I had never done it before and wanted to try it out. I am planning to take these stitches out and re-sew this pamphlet with a cover now that I've found a suitable piece of transformer fanart to use as a cover:

french link tutorial. it's quite long but it has a colour coded bit towards the end that shows how the thread is supposed to link which i find very helpful to visualise: https://www.handmadebooksandjournals.com/bindings/french-link-stitch-binding/

here's a video tutoral from DAS bookbinding (he is my go to for techniques and he has the most soothing Australian accent as well, though fair warning not all of his videos are for beginners): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4ZPdbaM-Ws

long stitch (even number of holes) for this one I used long stitch and I had a cover. this one is my favourite variation because I can make these pretty and simple covers and the stitch looks nice on the outside as well, so this one scratches the 'i want to make a book' itch for me.

here's a tutorial that also includes a how to on a cover that is different from my cover: https://lccprintmaking.myblog.arts.ac.uk/files/2020/06/Long-Stitch-Tutorial-A4.pdf DAS also has a video tutorial for long stitch but it's like three videos long, maybe watch it later :'D  here's one I haven't watched but seems decent: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XnignTL_wDQ

you can use saddle stitch for this kind of pamphlet as well, that's what I did for dozens of ships and hundreds of souls (https://ashmouthbooks.tumblr.com/post/681587080267202560).

I hope this helped!!

[xensilverquill]

i found a Creature in my kitchen today

this is my child now

(free pattern below the readmore!)

TBH/Autism Creature Pattern  

Materials

White yarn (Any weight)  

Black yarn (1 weight size smaller than white yarn)  

Fiber fill  

Hook sizes appropriate to your yarn and tension style (I reccomend at least one hook size smaller than what is reccomended on yarn label.)  

Optional:  

Poly pellets  

Panty hose  

Pattern Terms

SC: single crochet  

R#: row #

MR: magic ring

INC: increase (i.e. two SC in same stitch)  

3INC: three SC in same stitch  

DEC: invisible decrease  

CH: chain  

SLST: slip stitch  

[#] # of stitches at end of row  

Ultimate Finish: See tutorial  

Invisible Finish: See tutorial  

Eyes [x2] (Black Yarn, Smaller Hook)

R1: 6 SC in MR [6]

R2: (INC) x 6 [12]

R3: (1 SC, INC) x 6 [18]

SLST, Invisible Finish, and leave long tail for sewing.

Head [x1] (White Yarn, Larger Hook)

R1: 6 SC in MR [6]

R2: (INC) x 6 [12]

R3: (1 SC, INC) x 6 [18]

R4: (1 SC, INC, 1 SC) x 6 [24]

R5: (3 SC, INC) x 6 [30]

R6: (2 SC, INC, 2 SC) x 6 [36]

R7: (5 SC, INC) x 6 [42]

R8: (3 SC, INC, 3 SC) x 6 [48]

R9: (7 SC, INC) x 6 [54]

R10-R15: SC around (6 rows) [54 x 6]

R16: (7 SC, DEC) x 6 [48]

R17: (3 SC, DEC, 3 SC) x 6 [42]

R18: (5 SC, DEC) x 6 [36]

R19: (2 SC, DEC, 2 SC) x 6 [30]

(i): Begin stuffing with fiber fill.

R20: (3 SC, DEC) x 6 [24]

R21: (1 SC, DEC, 1 SC) x 6 [18]

R22: (1 SC, DEC) x 6 [12]

R23: (DEC) X6 [6]

(ii): Finish stuffing.

(iii): Sl St, bind off with Ultimate Finish.

Legs [x4] (White Yarn, Larger Hook)

R1: Ch 4, 1 SC in 2nd Ch from Hook, 1 SC, 3 SC in last Ch, 1 SC along other side of starting chain, 2 SC in turning chain [8]

R2: 3 SC, 3INC, 3 SC, 3INC [12]

R3-R8: SC around (6 rows) [12 x 6]

(i): SLST, leave long tail for sewing, and stuff with fiber fill, taking care not to overstuff and stretch the legs.

Body [x1] (White Yarn, Larger Hook)

R1: Ch 7, INC in 2nd chain from hook, 4 SC, INC, then working along the opposite side of chain, INC, 4 SC along opposite side of chain, INC [16]

R2: 1 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 2 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 1 SC [20]

R3: 2 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 2 SC [24]

R4: 3 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 6 SC, INC, 4 SC, INC, 3 SC [28]

R5-R17: SC around (13 rows) [28 x 13]

R18: DEC, 6 SC, DEC, 4 SC, DEC, 6 SC, DEC, 4 SC [24]

(i): If you want to add some weight and balance to your creature, stuff according to the instructions below. Otherwise, stuff as normal with fiber fill.

(ii): First make a pellet packet. Cut a length of pantyhose, making a tight knot in one end. Fill the pocket with enough poly pellets to give weight to the body, but avoid overstuffing at this will stretch out and make gaps in the body. Close the pocket with a knot on the open end of the pantyhose and cut away any excess material.

(iii): Stuff some fiberfill into the front end of the body before inserting the pellet fill packet, then lightly stuff fiberfill between the packet and top inside of the body.

R19: DEC, 4 SC, DEC, 4 SC, DEC, 4 SC, DEC, 4 SC [20]

R20: DEC, 2 SC, DEC, 4 SC, DEC, 2 SC, DEC, 4 SC [16]

R21: 2 DEC, 4 SC, 2 DEC, 4 SC [12]

(iv): Leave long tail for sewing body closed.

(vi): Finish stuffing, squish sides of end row together and sew closed.

Assembly  

(1) Pin the legs to the body with the long side pointed forward and parallel with the body. The left and right leg of each pair should be 2 to 3 stitches apart. Pin the front legs between R4 and R9 of the body. Pin back legs between R12 and R17. Sew to attach, hide thread ends in body.  

(2) Pin the head to the body, connecting R3 and R10 of the body to the R22 and R19 of the head, respectively. Sew to attach, hide thread ends in body.  

(3) Pin eyes 3 to 4 stitches apart between R10 and R16 of the head. Sew to attach, hide thread ends in head.  

(4) Use a long length of white yarn to embroider highlights in the upper left portion of each eyes. Hide thread ends in head.  

(5) Use a length of black yarn to embroider mouth 2 to 3 rows below the eyes. Hide thread ends in head.  

(6) Fluff up your scrungly little creature (they will be a little squished from all the sewing) and enjoy!  

[jordanstrophe]

Abandoned whumpee

CW: Whumper turned caretaker, injured whumpee, defiant, restrained, angst

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

Whumpee awoke in their enemies infirmary.

An IV was pricking their arm and the lights were dimmed. They twitched as their wrist ached from the handcuff binding them to the bed.

"You're awake? I was getting worried about you." Whumper hummed, sitting by their bedside with a large cup of coffee. Whumpee shakily rose their hand as the handcuff clinked.

"This isn't necessary." Whumpee tiredly mumbled.

"My my, you've been awake for ten seconds and already making demands." Whumper chuckled. "But I'm afraid we're not on that level of trust yet, I can get you something for the bruise."

Whumpee tried to sit up, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

"I'm a w-wounded prisoner. It's not like I know my w-way around here-" Their voice hitched as their arm gave in as they collapsed. Whumper was quick to pull them up and put a pillow behind their back.

"Easy now, you're still healing. -And don't downgrade yourself, you could still pack a punch, I know how you were trained." Whumper scolded, fixing the blanket around them.

"How could you possibly know that." Whumpee squinted. Whumper ignored their question and waved someone over; they were handed something whumpee couldn't see from the bed. Whumper moved towards them whumpee tried to scamper as far as the handcuff could go.

"Hey! Hey, calm down. It's not going to hurt you." Whumper lulled, placing a plate with a full meal on their lap. "Look, it's just a peace offering."

Whumpee's face flushed with a hint of pink as they lowered their shoulders. Hospitality was the least they expected from their enemy's leader. "You're feeding me?" Whumpee tilted their head.

"Of course I'm feeding you. I saved your life, I'm not going to waste it all by starving you. Gracious, eat your dinner." Whumper scoffed. 

"This is dinner? How long did you sedate me?" Whumpee suddenly perked up.

"I didn't sedate you, you were exhausted. That's just how long you slept. Now eat, you'll feel better." They nudged, taking their wrist and putting a plastic fork in whumpee's hand.

"If I didn't know any better," Whumper chuckled, "I would guess your beloved team wasn't feeding you either-"

Whumper felt movement and grabbed whumpee's arm before they attempted to plummet the fork into whumper's neck. They glared at each other as Whumpee was panting and pouring with sweat.

"Sweetheart, that is a plastic fork you're holding." Whumper glared.

"I know. But it's got three sh-sharp points and that's good enough f-for me." Whumpee grunted, still attempting to stab them. Whumper grabbed their collar and yanked them mere inches away. Whumpee pushed and tried to back-peddle as whumper held their collar.

"That was a cute try." Whumper whispered in their ear. "But you don't have the strength to fight just yet, little lamb. Should have eaten first." They plucked the fork out of Whumpee's hand and released them. Whumpee fell back and winced, holding their wound as it pulsed. They could feel the stitches underneath their shirt, staying intact at least...

"You honestly can't believe you'll keep me here like this! I don't want to be here- I'm not your pet to tease!" Whumpee shouted at them.

"You're not my pet. If you want to be that way, then sure; you're like a lamb running for the cliffs that I have to keep pulling you away from." Whumper straightened their jacket and rubbed their neck.

"You're only keeping me alive so you can torture me later, I've told you from the start I won't ever give up my team-"

"-No." Whumper cut them off.

Whumpee suddenly quieted and closed their lips. "... What do you mean no?" They quietly asked.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, your head is so full of lies it sickens me to know what they've taught you! You want to know why I stayed by your side all day? You woke up throughout the night and cried yourself right back to sleep!"

"I wasn't crying!" Whumpee sobbed, covering their face and fell silent. Whumper shut their mouth and leaned back, realizing they had corned them. "I'm sorry. I uh ... I'll give you some space. I'll come check on you later." Whumper quickly stood. They craned their head back to see whumpee was now curled on their side facing away from them.

Whumpee flinched when they heard a "clink" as the handcuff fell off their wrist. It was a feeling of pure light and relief. It was a surprising gesture, even for the stunt they pulled with the now-revoked plastic fork.

This wasn't the ruthless enemy whumpee was expecting; whumper speaks as if they know more about their own team than whumpee does. If they got trusted enough to freely walk around, they would get to find their own answers deep in the core of their enemies base. 

 Perhaps this was an opportunity.

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever​  @isita-torrrres @tobiaslut

[sukunas-wife]

Sealed Pt. 5

first try 😎 (5th really)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

It didn’t take long to buy what you needed, but your funds were running low. Which led you to believe it was a good time to return to the temple you had opened, immediately after opening the doors there was a line of women and children. It didn’t take long as you started to go through them all, “blessing” pregnant women and healing sick children. Grateful women who couldn’t bear children or didn’t want to lose their children were more than willing to pay any price for healing. You’d been there almost all night when you felt an all too familiar presence. Your back was to the door but you turned looking over your shoulder. There he stood, tall, pale, long black hair and black robes. You turned completely to face him, “You must be Lady Y/n of the Shrine, I’ve heard so many stories of how you… help people, I’m curious of how you do it.”

Kenjaku, those stitches on his forehead would give him away easily to anyone who had common sense. “Sorry men aren’t allowed in the Shrine, with the exception of my husband and son.”

“You have a husband and son?” His face was smiling in disbelief, you didn't trust him even if he and Sukuna had chatted more than a few times he always left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. “Yes but that’s not important , so tell me why you’re really here. I get the feeling you're not leaving so easy.” He hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “I came looking for something. You have it and I might need it. So one sorcerer to another we both know what you have that’s helping you so much, it was awakened when Ryomen Sukuna was reincarnated. Do you know who that is or did you stumble across this little artefact and decide to keep it for yourself.” You watched his hand move from his sleeve holding up one of Sukuna’s fingers. Unamused, you looked away, “Sorry to tell you the only thing I see is a rotting dismembered finger, if you're not here to benefit both of us please leave.” You tried to wave him off but persisted in following you, Morí put himself between the both of you so you didn’t bother to look back at him. “I’ll give you one warning, you give me whatever you took and I’ll leave. But if I have to take it myself-“

He was cut off feeling hot liquid run down his face, your hand held up over your shoulder, “This is your warning, there won’t be a next one.” The sound of his skull cap hitting the floor was disturbing, Morí wanted to gag at the sight of the brain exposed. “That was a mistake.” You turned around your robes ruffled noisily “No! You turning your back when RYOMEN WAS BETRAYED WAS A MISTAKE KENJAKU, your damn lucky you have that binding vow and that he never found out the truth you two faced coward, I used to think you changed bodies so frequently because you actually had a plan. It turns out you're just lowly scum and your intentions were never clear, you’re a coward and when things become difficult in one life you’d just pop someone’s else’s skull open and go for a joy ride until it’s all used up.”

You saw those Fox like eyes light up followed by that unhinged smile, “Well if it isn’t Mrs.Ryomen Sukuna, I heard the rumours you escaped the prison realm, I just couldn’t believe it.” You felt your lip twitch like you were going to bare your teeth, “Believe it, I’m free and don’t think I’m here to support your silly little flip flop grill cheese bullshit plan. I’m also not going to join your little club of misfit cursed wombs and deranged psychopaths. I’m here for Ryomen and my son, if you do anything to hurt either of them I swear on your life Kenjaku I’ll be the one pulling you out of that man’s skull and making sure you never find another life. I have my plans already and I don’t need you.” He seemed displeased, “That’s the problem here Y/n, your wedding vows can’t do a thing to break a binding vow.”

You laughed “That’s the thing Kenny, you two made a binding vow, Tyler’s say there’s this cute little red string tying to Ryomen, you can both push and pull in the same direction as long as the rope never breaks. But, what happens if a third party comes in and manages to cut that string.” Your head tilted with a passive smile, “Get out.”

————-

“Alright Mama-dori, it's time for little Itadori to go out on his own on a mission!” Gojo seemed excited about breaking this news to you. You couldn’t have given him a more bewildered look. “What do you mean on a mission?” Mori was by your side taking the cracking tea cup from your hand before it shattered over the tea table. “Think of it as a field mission … erm Lady Y/n.” Your face didn’t change much while you were staring him down, he could swear he’s seen that look before. “Where’s it going to happen…?”

He gave you a mischievous smile, “Well if I told you how do I know you wouldn’t interfere.” “If you didn't, what makes you think I wouldn’t find Yuji on my own.” Your smug smile didn’t go unnoticed. “Good luck finding us then.”

———

It didn’t take long of you spending your day at home lazing about waiting for Yuji to come back, you weren’t held captive in this dingy little house but you started to wonder if this is what Sukuna felt like now that you understood he was trapped inside of Yuji

“Mooriiiiii”….. “hm.” “MoorIIIIIIII” “I’m sorry?” “MORI.” You finally lifted your head from being laid out on the cushions on the floor, Mori sighed with a sympathetic smile, closing the book he constantly kept your records and plans in. “Yes Lady Y/n?” You rolled over laying your head on the pillow not looking at him anymore, “I miss- Yuji? Or is it your husband this time?” You fell silent huffing and burying your face into the pillow “bof” Mori shook his head with a small smile at your muffled speech. “We’ve talked about this Lady Y/n, if you do want both of them back they really do need to know the truth.” You moved around so the side of your face was on the pillow and you could just barely see Mori looking at you from the tea table, “Do you know how difficult it’s going to be to explain to Sukuna he was reincarnated into his son that he now sees he’s being held hostage in?” Mori’s eyes didn’t leave your face as you watched a ladybug crawl past you, “But he recognizes you even without your cursed presence Lady Y/n…”

Finally you sat up looking at him, “Do you wanna know a secret Morinozuka? Something almost no one else knows?” He seemed uneasy at the thought, hesitating as you continued, “I’ll have to kill you if you ever tell anyone else but do you know why I lived so long? Why don't I age? Look at us Morino, you were a child when I found you all those years ago. You’ve grown, look at me, I have the same face and appearance as the day we met.” You held your hand out to him, he took it in his looking over the back of it, he remembered your hands well. When he was a child you gave him that motherly love of wiping away his tears, he’d take your hand whenever he’d get scared walking in public. He watched you fill out every paper, he admired the way you would heal people, but he always noticed how people’s hands changed with their age, but your hands were the same as the day he met you. “You haven’t aged Lady Y/n but I can’t tell why.”

“I’m a curse Mori, there’s a beautiful story behind how I became a curse” he watched how you smiled looking at your hand, he watched a mark form over your finger, “But that’s a story for another time!” You were quick to get up, “Let’s make something to eat. I doubt Gojo’s not going to feed them so we can eat at least.”

It didn’t take long for You and Mori to throw together a hot pot with meatballs. You were serving Mori who insisted he should be serving you, “oh be quiet Mori I didn’t take care of you for years for you to take care of every little thing I do now, now eat.” He huffed and started to eat watching as you started to serve yourself, it was when you were about to eat your own meal Yuji busted into your new home excited to tell you about everything. Mori caught your food as Yuji tackled you in a hug “Mom you should’ve seen us it was so cool we…” he paused looking at the table where you had set up the pot of broth. “Oh you were eating, sorry.” You watched as he smiled sitting back on his heels rubbing the back of his head with a big shy smile. You couldn’t help but smile at him, “cmon sit I’ll serve you some if you want and you can tell us how your… field test went.” He sat cross legged beside you leaning against your shoulder rambling and stuffing his face telling you about the revolving sushi and this Girl Kugisaki he and Fushiguro met. You laughed hearing how he whined that she sighed after just looking at them. You leaned your head on his and he kept talking, you listened to every word until he eventually fell asleep in your lap.

You looked down at him, your sweet boy, until you saw that eye open up, and a mouth form, it was a soft call and out of character, “Y/n.” You looked at him, Ryomen, “Ryo…” you saw the malicious smile on his face “If this brat trusts you so much I think you could do a little talking and get me out of here don’t you?” He watched and you smiled, shaking your head, crinkling your nose, “Reincarnated not too long ago and you're already making bigger plans…” your smile fell “what the hell was that where are the women and children moving about anyways hm?”

He looked away making a “face” “I don’t know what you're talking about woman, must’ve misheard….” “Mhm.” He looked back at you before looking away, “It’s been lonely you know…” you leaned down pressing a kiss to Sukuna’s “cheek”, he didn’t bother trying to fight you, “I know it’s been lonely you’ve been locked up for centuries Ryo.” He hummed, before looking at you upset “What are you doing HERE Y/n! Why would you surround yourself with these sorcerers and this brat? Who is this brat? WHYS HES SLEEPING ON YOUR LAP!?” Yuji stirred and you rubbed his head, you should send him to sleep in his dorm, “Ryomen-“ you gave him a look, he rolled his eye, “as much as you’d hate to hear this, Yuji Itadori is our so- mm, hmm?” Yuji sat up rubbing his eyes, “What time is it?” He yawned and all you saw was Sukuna squinting at Yuji before disappearing.

“It’s 10:40 Yu,” you started to stand up, “You should go sleep in your dorm so Gojo to Fushigumi don’t freak out if you're missing.”

He laughed, “Fushigumi.” He’s gonna love that one.” He stood up from the ground stretching and yawning before he squeezed you in a hug, “Gnight mom I’ll see you tomorrow.”

————-

“Hm, it’s July… I wonder if Yuji will want to go watch the fireworks later this month…” you yawned leaning against the post on the porch of the little home. The afternoon sun shining on your face, eyes closed, head resting back against the post. Ungratefully one leg was propped up the other was swinging off the porch just barely grazing the grass, the vibrant red of your robes shining bright. The shoji doors were open wide with fly nets set up, futons were airing out for when you wanted to laze about on the porch or in the living room on the floor, Morí had gotten tired of watching you throw all the cushions in a pile just to complain when you were on the floor and the cushions wouldn’t stay still. You heard him hum still scribbling away, you looked over picking up the hand fan laying at your side, “This was my wedding fan, did you bring it?” Morí hummed again “you said bring ALL your precious belongings when we first left the temple I assumed since it was wrapped in fine linen and in a red wooden box it was preserved for a reason. Then I saw a painting in your temple and it all made sense, Lady Y/n.” You waved it around unceremoniously watching the little charms sway around, “Lady Y/n… was Ryomen Sukuna really your husband?”

“Is he really my husband" is what you mean, he still is my husband even after all these years being forced apart…” you paused looking down on the school, “…he’s my husband…surprisingly he was different then to now. I still love him regardless, he gave me his heart and I gave him mine, sure the wedding vows today would probably sound occult but I was his he was mine, it took years to be comfortable by his side and then we he’s our first child, Yuj-” Morí watched the panicked look on your face, when you pulled your sleeve up grabbing your arm where your binding vow has marked you. He watched you squeeze the muscle hissing through gritted teeth, “Yuji.” It sounded like a forced grunt. He watched you cough from trying to bear the pain, it stopped and you let go, you were visibly confused “Lady Y/n what- I don’t know” you cut him off, “that’s never happened before.” You watched as the mark became a lighter colour almost blending into your skin then you understood, “I NEED TO FIND YUJI.”

———

“….s..Go..” You couldn’t get the words out, you wanted to scream at Satoru, you wanted everyone to die and it filled the room the moment he didn’t let you enter and you forced your way in to see your son laying on the cold metal bed. He was stripped bare with a gaping hole in his chest, the woman in a lab coat and Gojo watched you walk right past them. You could still feel a faint lingering of Sukuna’s cursed energy. Your hand moved up slowly taking Yuji's. He was so cold. The hand you squeezed as a child, the tiny chubby hands that wiped your tears “It’s okay mommy!” The hands you held onto walking him to school, you shook your head, tears in your eyes, it’s always these damn sorcerers who are so prideful in what they do they try to play heroes and fix the world. Putting the lives of others at expense even if it means they’ll only save one or two people. Your hand trailed up his arm fingertips brushing over where your binding vow was disappearing. “Some proud jujutsu sorcerer you must be.” You could feel Gojo’s stare, having ignored all his rambling but knowing he was upset.

“My son is dead at the expense of what Satoru Gojo?”

Your hair fell over your face when your tears started to fall, ducking your head down feeling like your chest and shoulders were curling in on you. You placed your hand on his chest and it felt like everything changed. You weren’t in that room, you were standing in an all too familiar place.

“Oh,” you felt the heat in your cheeks rising when you heard Ryomen’s voice, “Well if it isn’t my pretty little wife finally coming to visit me hm?” He was behind you, his left arm lazily wrapped around your waist the right around your shoulder so his hand could hold your jaw, he turned your face to look back and up at him. His eyes were lidded and smiled down at you, “Ryomen…” he moved in closer, his lips ghosting over yours, “y/n.” He closed the gap kissing you, he could feel the way you broke out and smiled against his lips, it made him crack his own smile when you tried to hold back your giggles. You were so happy to be able to see him after so long, “Ryo.” You pulled away and he frowned slightly looking at you, “what- LET GO OF HER-“

All you saw was Sukuna grabbing Yuji’s fist and throwing him and sending him flying into the liquid a distance away. “Oh Yuji..”

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[a-hermit-pining]

Geto as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Geto x Reader AN: I love him. He's so damn pretty. Who should I write next?

Have you seen him? He is mother material. Born to cook forced to slay. Let's say in a different world, you whisk this beautiful man into the domestic bliss of marriage.

Massive cottage core vibes with this one. He is very taken by the idea of not being regarded as a killing machine. Immediately busies himself with the task of decorating your shared home.

Just take this man away. Elope to mountains and save him (hermit begs you).

Wedding planning is another demon. He debates every single decision. Asking you about your preference between white gardenias or white peonies. (You love him and he is too sweet for you to say out loud that you for the end of the world cannot distinguish the flowers)

He creates elaborate flowcharts to compare the pros and cons of different cake flavors, or insists on stress-testing the honeymoon resort's structural integrity with a cursed technique (much to the staff's bewilderment).

Let's not even get into Gojo's best man speech. No one really recovered from that.

DIY projects are his shit. Renovating a raggedy old dresser into a vintage masterpiece is where his magic lies. Let this man cook.

Your home with him is a a whimsical blend of vintage finds and hand-stitched throw pillows adorned with subtle wards against lingering curses. Even the strategically placed spider plants weren't just decorative – they doubled as a natural barrier against negative energy (a discovery that both surprised and amused you).

His transition into a normal 'monkey' life was endearingly awkward, like the time he spent hours meticulously decoupaging a floral pattern onto a chair, muttering about the inefficiency of glue compared to a simple binding spell.

And the day Suguru is introduced to the world of crocheting, your world flips on its axis. The pure look of joy on his face unravels the seams of your heart as he presents you with the mood changing octopus on your birthday.

Weekends with him are craft days. With a classic rom-com in the background as he sits next to you, his hands busy in the dance of needles and yarn. Better even your fingers run through his hair, braiding his hair only to wake up to your husband with perfect mermaid waves next day.

You both are the kind of sickly sweet couple that cause Shoko to gag in cringe during holiday gatherings.

Your husband glows with the simplicity of life. His hands busy themselves with crafts, chores, gardening, never a moment of rest even in the hull of domesticity.

He is your Disney princess that rushes out to refill the bird feeder with the first rays of Sun, hums pleasantly at the sight of a perfectly baked batch of cookies, or paints the most delightful sceneries on your ceilings.

Geto Suguru was made to create. He loves the fresh scent of sheets, experimenting with new flavors of tea, or going down the path of BookTok with Faerie romances much to your astonishment.

It isn't long before, you both end up adopting teeny tiny twins from the local orphanage. Suguru's darling girls he spends his life nurturing.

He took to fatherhood with the same surprising zeal he brought to everything else. His days were filled with braiding tiny pigtails, reading bedtime stories with dramatic voice inflections (complete with a surprisingly convincing rendition of a grumpy troll), and building elaborate pillow forts that rivaled any jujutsu barrier.

And on nights when dreams of a different reality kept him away, you held his hand in yours. Calling your girls for a family sleepover in the living room. That was all it took to whisk the sadness away from your beloved's eyes.

[leighsartworks216]

can i request a tav x astarion where tav is mute? i wonder how they would be communicating

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I really struggled with this request, but I decided to try again on a whim and whoooo boy it's a doozy. I also did not make Tav mute, but I played with a Paladin oath I have had on my mind for a looong time so they are effectively mute

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

Word Count: 3,624

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You huff in annoyance for the fifth- no, sixth, time. Perhaps more. The vendor stares at you as though you’re insane, even though you couldn’t possibly be clearer! You exaggerate further, pointing at the potion, yourself, and your coin purse. If he would just mark how much the damn thing cost, you wouldn’t have to keep going through this!

Astarion sighs sharply. “They want to buy the potion,” he bemoans. “Now, please, tell them the price so we can move on.”

The vendor starts with wide eyes and realization on his face. He flushes from his cheeks, down his neck, and to the tips of his ears as he stutters out the price. You shove the money into his chest and grab what you’ve paid for, before stomping off. And if Astarion slipped an extra something in his pocket while the vendor was dying of his stupidity, who would really care?

He caught up in a few long strides. “We must find a better way for you to communicate, darling. I can’t keep translating for you.”

You made a few sharp gestures.

“I don’t see the big deal in carrying a paper and pencil around,” he answered with a scoff. “Or, you know, you could just speak. I know you can.”

You glared at him. That, he didn’t need a translator for.

This had been an ongoing argument from the very moment you ran into each other on the beach. When he had you pinned to the ground and you didn’t speak, he originally thought you were just being stubborn. When he finally let you go, you’d explained to him (in writing) that you’d made an oath of silence, and that you had nothing to do with the Illithid kidnappings.

Fortunately, you discovered early on that some hand signs were shared with the Theive’s Cant, which he understood quite well. When Gale and Wyll came along, one who’d learned some sign through books and the other who learned by helping people as the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion was relieved he wouldn’t have to translate for you. Except, you continued to drag him along to act as the middle man anyway.

His solution, proposed frequently both seriously and in jest, was to break your oath. An oath of silence was a ridiculous thing to promise anyway, especially now that you needed to communicate so frequently, but any time the suggestion was posed, you’d just level him with a hard stare.

“You know I can’t do that,” you signed, annoyed.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Paladins. So dedicated to the chains that bind them.”

“To break my oath would be to lose my powers. Do you want me to keep reviving your ass during battle or not?”

He sneered. “You couldn’t make an oath of vengeance or something? It would certainly be a lot easier to follow through on.”

You rolled your eyes and walked faster. You hated arguing about your oath. Wyll and Gale wouldn’t behoove you for it - so why did you bring him along, he wonders.

-

Astarion heaved, pressing against a stitch in his side that tightened with each breath. The fight was brutal. Everyone was bloody and exhausted. Shadowheart turned from the dead beast before them to help Wyll who lay prone on the ground. Karlach pulled her mighty axe from its head with a squelch and a crunch, cheering at the victory.

He chuckled breathlessly at her antics. Almost stumbling, he turned in a circle, eyes scanning the battlefield. The beast’s cronies lay still, scattered everywhere. Blood overwhelmed his senses. How did that saying go? Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

He frowned. He looked around again. “Where’s Tav?”

Karlach’s whoops quieted immediately. She looked around as well. “They didn’t get crushed under this,” she kicked the creature in the eye, “did they?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t close enough…” He growled, frustrated, and turned to the magic-users. “Did you see where Tav went?”

Shadowheart supported Wyll as he sat up, groaning. They both shook their heads. “Last I saw them, they were over there,” the warlock croaked, nodding over to the side. “But I don’t know how long I’ve been down for.”

Astarion winced as he jogged over to where he said, stepping over and on top of dead bodies. He took another step. His foot did not collide with floor nor flesh. His heart lurched as the world fell out from under him. A hand grabbed the neck his armor and pulled him back, falling on his ass onto solid ground.

“Careful, Fangs!” Karlach chastised worriedly. She let him go, pulling them both to their feet and brushing him off. “You alright?”

His mind was still reeling. He nodded in a daze. All he could do was stare at the nearly-invisible chasm he’d almost fallen down into… And then his mind caught up.

He raced forward again, dopping to his knees right before the tear in the earth, and leaned over it. Even his darkvision couldn’t help him see what was below; it was so dark, like all light that fell into it was swallowed up. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Tav?!” he shouted down into the darkness. His voice echoed. He had no idea how deep it went.

The realization set in for Karlach as well. “Oh fuck…”

“Tav, are you down there?!” He waited a moment, but he was met with only silence.

Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over. They peered into the deep with concern. Astarion shifted so he sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge. He remembered the feeling of falling. Fortunately, he couldn’t see how deep it was, so at least vertigo did not make it seem deeper; the shadow was doing a perfect job of that on its own.

Wyll grabbed his shoulder before he could slide forward. “Astarion, we have no idea how deep it goes, or what’s down there! You could be impaled on a spike before you ever make it to the bottom. We don’t know if they’re even alive!”

“And if they are?” he growled. “They could be trapped down there with no way of telling us.”

“And you’ll be trapped down there if you go after them!”

He couldn’t argue with anything logical. So what if he got stuck down there? He needed to know you were okay. His blunt nails dig into the stone edge, knocking loose flecks of rock and sediment. How could he just leave you down there?

Shadowheart looked around at the bodies. “We could make some rope. Lower it down, see if they grab on.”

He snorted mirthlessly, sneering at the cleric. “And if they’re too injured to?”

She glared back at him. “I don’t see you proposing any better ideas.”

Karlach and Wyll shared a look. It seems they’d have to be the level-headed ones here… “We can strip the bodies. Tie their clothes together until it’s long enough.” To hopefully reach the bottom, was left unsaid.

Karlach and Shadowheart got to work immediately, working to remove the clothes of their fallen enemies, scrunching their noses in disgust all the while. Wyll squeezed Astarion’s shoulder and joined them, trying to decide what clothes were in good enough condition to hold weight. Astarion stared into the pit for a while longer.

-

Your head spun. Everything ached. Each breath was like fire in your lungs. You bit your lip to silence your whimpers, biting down so hard you could taste iron in your mouth.

As the pain ebbs to a manageable level, you try to figure out where you were. It was dark. You couldn’t make out your hand right in front of your face. You couldn’t even be sure your eyes were open. You only knew they were when you looked up and saw light coming from far above you. It was dim and flickering - the flames of the braziers that lined the battlefield.

You blinked into the darkness, willing your eyes to adjust. Cautiously, you reached out your hands and felt around. The ground beneath you was covered in fine gravel, almost like sand. The finer sediment stuck to your hands when you pulled away. There was a wall behind you, possibly made from slate. It would be impossible to climb. With a muffled groan, you’re able to reach your foot out and touch the opposite wall. The effort leaves you panting.

You lay still on the floor for a minute. Clearly, you fell from quite high up. How far was still a mystery, but the fact was you did fall. When you’ve caught your breath, you feel for any injuries. Your armor restricts you, but it seems to have protected you for the most part. You’ll be bruised as hell, but you can’t find any open wounds. At least you were fortunate there.

You look up again. You can’t hear anything coming from above, but you’re unsure if it’s from the depth of the chasm or because the battle is over. You hope they are able to win the fight without you. All your companions are strong in their own right, you know they can pull through this.

You squint at the opening above. You think you see something moving at the top, but it’s merely a speck. Using the wall and gathering your waning strength, you push yourself to your feet. You heave as you lean against the slate. The silhouette is still too far away to make out.

T..av….

A distant cry, distorted heavily by the chasm. It takes a moment for you to recognize it as your name. Your heart leaps in your chest.

… av….. Ar… d..wn… the..re…

You can’t tell who’s calling down to you, but you take faith in the knowledge it must be one of your companions. The beasts wouldn’t know your name. Now you just have to signal them somehow…

You feel around your body for your sword, but the sheath is empty. It must have fallen elsewhere, perhaps only feet away, but you can’t see worth a damn. You try instead to cast a ball of light. It should be easy - it’s a spell you’ve cast a hundred times before. But as you strain to conjure even a spark, you become lightheaded. Your knees buckle, collapsing you back to the gritty floor. You try again, but you can feel your energy being sapped away. Your hand falls weakly to the ground.

You rest your head back against the wall and think. You can’t use your sword to hit the rock and make a sound, or defend yourself if something lurks within the darkness. You can’t cast a light, nor any other spell, lest you fall completely unconscious and make your chances worse. The more options you run out of, the more desperate you become. You try reaching out to their tadpoles, but they must be too far away.

You’re stuck.

A sob chokes you as it forces its way up your throat. Even that is muffled by you, by pure habit at this point. You’ve held your oath for years; you’ve learned how to stay silent even under the worst situations. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

You look up at the dim light, blurred through tears. They burn as they just keep coming. Your lip quivers as you quietly gasp for air. You’re going to die down here.

Your last option, you’ve already dismissed before it fully forms. You could break your oath, call up to them, cry out for help with the last of your strength. But to do that would leave you even more helpless than before. To speak was to lose your powers. Your god would rip them away in a heartbeat, until you plead for forgiveness; pray for hours and hours to swear your allegiance and dedication once more.

A slave to the chains that bind you.

But what choice do you have?

You try to catch your breath, slow the hiccups and sobs down until you can fill your lungs with air. You open your mouth, try to form the words, but it comes out as a weak sound, almost a poor facsimile of a donkey’s bray. You haven’t spoken for years, to do so now was an astronomical feat. You feel the burn of your god’s eyes as they watch you actively work to break your oath.

You try to speak again. You form an h sound, but it’s so quiet, it’s hardly enough to be considered speaking. You need to shout. You need to let your friends know you are alive down here. Anxiety grips your heart as you imagine being left down here alone, left to starve to death, or worse.

You swallow. You have to do this. You can do this.

“H..e..lp,” you croak out, a mere whisper. It’s raspy and breathy, but it’s a word. You feel your power being sapped away. You nearly sob again. Your god would abandon you down here. An unfeeling master who only craves loyalty. Astarion was right.

You take another deep breath and try harder. “H-elp..!” It’s still a strained rasp, but you hear it begin to echo off the walls. Louder. It needs to be louder. You cup your hands around your mouth. “Help!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the burning in your throat. “HELP!”

-

Astarion’s hands are raw from tying knots. Karlach will bring him big piles at a time, plopping them down beside him, and he’d add them all onto the already-quite-long rope. It was perhaps 30 feet long by now, but he wasn’t confident it would reach.

Wyll sighed, exhausted. “We’re almost out of clothes, my friend.”

Astarion doesn’t look up, barely paying attention to the warlock enough to tell him to keep working. Calluses on his hands open and turn into blisters. He winces with each knot he pulls tight. But he won’t stop. How can he?

Shadowheart sighs as she pulls the pants off another corpse. She’s seen far more anatomy in one hour than she ever wished to again. Karlach sits down by the pile and pulls the other end of the rope into her lap. She begins working to tie more on.

They work silently, but rather efficiently. In another minute, the rope has grown considerably longer. Blood begins to stain Astarion’s end.

“Fangs, maybe you should take a break.” He shakes his head, frowning as he grabs a robe off the pile. Karlach is about to insist, get Wyll or Shadowheart to take over, when a sound comes from the pit. Astarion drops everything and scrambles over as fast as he can.

He tilts his head, facing his ear down into the depths. And he listens…

H..E..LP!

He immediately shouts down into the hole. “We’re going to get you out!” He rushes back to his feet and to the rope. The others drop their half-naked corpses, and Karlach finishes tying one last knot. They help Astarion drag it over to the pit, all lining up to hold onto the end, though, to be honest, Karlach will be doing most of the heavy lifting. He guides the end over the edge, and hurriedly lowers it down. He wants to throw it in, but he’d rather not throw somebody else over the edge with the sudden weight.

He’s knelt right on the edge, wide eyes staring, searching into the dark. He has no idea how close they are to you, or even if it’s long enough. He hopes your god is merciful enough to play with fate.

“Find the rope!” He shouts down. He hopes his voice is reaching you. “We’ll lift you up!”

It’s too quiet for too long. If his heart still beat, it would be racing faster than a rabbit’s on the run. Dread builds up, heavy and unpleasant, in his chest instead. Did you pass out? Was the rope long enough? Would he have to slide down and carry you back up? What was taking you so damn long?!

He’s a second away from removing his armor to climb down when the rope shifts, being tugged by something down in the darkness. He can only hope it’s you. He scrambles to his feet and gets in front of Karlach, grabs hold of the rope with bloody fingers, and begins pulling you from the pit.

Somehow they manage to work as a unit. He’s scrambling to pull you out as fast as possible, but Karlach manages to get him to slow down. If they could do long pulls, they could drag you out faster with less work. He worries his lip between his teeth. Each knot that slips over the edge adds to his anxiety. He’s waiting for the moment it reaches the end and nothing is there. He can only take solace in the fact he can feel your weight holding on. Gods, he thinks desperately, just keep holding on.

After an eternity of pulling, a hand reaches over the ledge. Karlach makes up for his absence when he lets go and falls to his knees at the edge. He reaches in and wraps his hands under your arms, heaving you up and, finally, back on solid ground. He pulls you solidly into his arms, sliding back away from the edge. He’s sick and tired of chasms.

You’re no longer wearing your armor, and your weapons belt is gone, too. Fine, black dirt sticks to your clothes and hands, and even smears across your face, washed away by a stream of tears. He wipes them away with one hand; he can’t give a damn about the blood he leaves in its place.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. You sob as fall forward, your head landing solidly against his shoulder. Your whole body trembles and shudders with each cry. He’s disconcerted by the sound of your voice, no longer purposefully muffled. He threads his fingers into your hair, holding you to him. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

-

If your body ached at the bottom of the pit, now you couldn’t even think about moving. Astarion had carried you as far as he could and then some, until Karlach had to take you from his arms before he dropped you. Even then, he stayed right by her side, watching you anxiously.

Back at camp, Shadowheart healed what she could, but most of her energy was spent during the fight. Haslin took over, but even the best he could do would have you bruised and in pain for the next few days. He went into the woods for ingredients to make a soothing balm.

Wyll helped you drink water, and Gale helped you drink some broth, to hold you over until he could make dinner proper. Lae’zel rifled through your veritable hoard of supplies to find you some suitable armor and weapons, and worked to sharpen and polish them.

When you were finally given the chance to rest, Astarion carried you from your bedroll into his tent, laying you down on his own bedroll. He provided as many pillows as you wished, as many blankets as you could ever ask for. He gathered a bowl of water and a fresh cloth and worked to clean the grime off your face.

You watched blankly, too emotionally and physically exhausted to process much. He passed the cloth over your forehead. It was blessedly cool, but the flash of red that crossed your vision could not be ignored.

Arms like lead, you willed a hand to grab his, stopping him mid-swipe. He winced as you pried the cloth from his hand, where it dropped wetly onto your neck, and ran your thumb along his palm. Blisters and blood covered every inch, skin torn and peeling in places. Without even thinking, you try casting a spell to heal him.

Whereas before, when you tried to cast a spell, you could feel it draining your energy from you, now you just felt nothing. It was like dipping a bucket into a well and coming up empty. There is no more magic within you to fuel a spell. Tears prick at your eyes again.

Astarion sighs, long and low. “You don’t have your magic.”

It takes far too much effort to even shake your head. You take a breath, and through the rasping pain, you speak. “They… took it away when… I called for help…” You swallow thickly. Your voice was foreign to you.

It was foreign to Astarion, too. He could recognize the way you signed, the slight variations of years of experience against Gale’s book-perfect signing or even Wyll’s slower, more purposeful movements. He associated it with you so strongly. To hear you speak was like watching a ventriloquist put on a show.

A bitter feeling took hold within him. Just like all gods, all masters, all people with power to laud over another, you were abandoned in your darkest hour, by someone you spent so long dedicated to. Prayers, offerings at alters, your faithful silence - it would never be enough, not to a god who always craved more.

But now isn’t the time to say I told you so. Gently, he removes his hand from your grasp. Your hand flops back to your side. He takes the cloth from where it rested at your neck, re-wets it, and continues cleaning your face.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes away your tears, catching them before they have a chance to slide down to your ears. When the sobs choke you, he helps you drink some water. When your sorrow lulls you to sleep, he tucks you in and stays by your side, a faithful argus.

---

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[yandere-wishes]

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right? 

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold. 

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose. 

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected. 

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why. 

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her. 

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers, 

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had. 

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know. 

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage. 

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever. 

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee. 

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other. 

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table. 

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could. 

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away. 

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her. 

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill. 

You make her crave things. 

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted? 

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering. 

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs. 

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.  

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

 "I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title. 

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream. 

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk. 

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul. 

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles. 

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes. 

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever. 

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer. 

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend. 

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-" 

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds. 

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane. 

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years. 

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow. 

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary. 

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design. 

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection. 

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days 

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear. 

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night. 

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation. 

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort. 

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws. 

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars. 

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means. 

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love. 

She's just glad your fates are entwined. 

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is. 

 Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock. 

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon. 

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute. 

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel. 

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name. 

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had. 

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has. 

Little did she know, you did too. 

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart. 

she laughs at such a preposterous notion. 

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust. 

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath. 

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins. 

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand. 

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now. 

It can't be fair. 

The world can't take you from her. 

You're the only lifeline she has left. 

The only hope that remains. 

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship. 

Maybe someday, decades from now. 

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

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