#print number patterns

[barksbog]

list of plush/business stuff i really need to do that's not actively making plushies

sublimation printing guide

material source list

about section on my website

finish the new sewing pattern instruction template

making a little glossary/beginners guide of sewing related info

update the existing sewing patterns into the new template

[mayorofcattown]

Some fun news, I got a printer! Like an actual decent printer for printing art stuff, so now I can make prints (and hopefully bookmarks?) at home instead of having to use print shops every time, so I'll be able to add new prints to my shop more easily, and do smaller runs of them

I'll probably still get stickers manufactured else where cause I like the quality of those fine, and also you need those cutting machines to cut them out and those sound like actual nightmares to use from everyone I've known who has one lol

Anyway I did a bunch of tests with different paper, and I've put them under the read more if that's interesting to anyone

I did some lil a6 test prints on some photo paper I got (top is satin, bottom is matte) and they turned out Very Nice. Colours turned out super good especially, and surprisingly close to digital even without converting to CMYK, which is good cause the main issue I was having with local printers was the colours (especially darks) being super off (which is probably my own fault, but still)

(ignore the bad cropping on the top right zelda I fucked up the cutting of it lol)

You can see above the difference in sheen better. My photos don't really do them justice (my room gets like no sunlight and my phone is extremely average) but difference between them is otherwise pretty marginal. The satin does seem a little truer to the original colours and slightly better definition I think? But you can only really tell if you stare at them both for ages. Dust does seem to stick to it more tho which is a bit annoying.

I do like the look and feel of the matte tho... The matte is supposed to be a thinner gsm than the satin but weirdly it feels sturdier? idk how paper works man. but either way the matte is also way cheaper so I'll probably stick with that.

Now I just have to figure out how to do bookmarks. I'm thinking I'll probably get like a cold laminate film for those (I think that's what people use to make stickers harder wearing?), these photo papers are a bit too thin on their own otherwise (the bookmarks I get printed are 350 gsm, while the matte is 230 gsm) and its probably easier to get the laminate than photo paper that high gsm.

and then I also have to figure out double sided printing... I guess I could stick two sides together but that seems like it'd be a) a pain and b) fall apart to easily. That's a problem for future me tho.

[the-crafting-gremlin]

Well, I decided to give myself another project to jump between while I finish up Striped Sweater, so I started on Color Stranded Sweater. I got through 3 inches of ribbing and the first line of solid color for the back, started on the colorwork...and discovered that despite counting multiple times, using stitch markers to keep track, and counting again...I still miscounted and was 20 stitches short.

Because of course I was. So I got to unravel the whole back part I'd gotten done (about 5 inches by 30 inches worth of knitting). That was yesterday afternoon. I set my knitting aside for the rest of the day, and I'm sitting down to cast on this sweater again this morning.

I do want to get the other sweater finished, but I'm so excited to start the colorwork on this one, and since I hate long stretches of flat ribbing I can switch between the striped sweater and the new one to give myself a break from it.

I'm just so frustrated and disappointed that I managed to miscount like that. I usually count in groups of 20s for pieces this long, and I guess I managed to miss one group this time. To be fair, I likely have dyscalculia so numbers are not my friend on a good day. But that's why I check my counts multiple times...and I still messed up this time. It happens. That doesn't make it any less frustrating, though.

All I can do now is cast on again, and maybe ask someone else to check my count so I don't have to undo a bunch of work again.

[noirandchocolate]

Several weeks ago one of my coworkers called me over into her cubicle and gave me a very unexpected gift. Her mother passed away recently, and she'd been packing stuff up at her condo to give to relatives and sell, so the home could be sold. The mother was an avid knitter and crocheter, and when my coworker came upon her stash of equipment, she told me, she "immediately thought of me as someone who might get some use out of it."

So, I have inherited a varied collection of knitting needles and crochet hooks, cable needles, sewing needles, and, best of all, now-out-of-print pattern books, mostly for blankets, because that was what this lady loved to make most. Plus, I also have a bunch of gauge swatches she made, pinned to little bits of card covered in perfect schoolteacher handwriting setting out the patterns they were made to test.

And also...

My coworker brought another bag, full of yarn and...knitted blanket squares. Her mother's last started project, before she got too sick to continue. And she asked if there was anything I could do with it.

It turned out, there are twelve completed squares, and I quickly located the pattern book they are from amid those given to me. It's a book of 60 patterns, meant to be put together however the maker wishes into blankets of 20 squares. I figured out which of the numbered patterns were already made, and selected eight more that I thought might go well with them.

So now! I am working on completing! My coworker's mother's last knitting project!

And I really am feeling very good about doing it.

[8pxl]

♡ JUBILEE | pacific northwest based pixel artist

♡ WAYS TO SUPPORT MY ART

↳ wallpapers ↳ prints & merch ↳ cross stitch patterns ↳ deskmats & tapestries ↳ sticker by number kits ↳ continue to like & reblog my art

♡ MY PIXEL ART TUTORIALS

↳ simple landscapes (old) ↳ city tutorial (old) ↳ water reflection (old) ↳ clouds tutorial ↳ how i use values ↳ color process ↳ BONUS: bluesky 101

♡ OTHER PLACES TO FIND ME

↳ bluesky ↳ kofi ↳ discord server ↳ instagram | facebook | twitter | no longer active

♡ FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

WHAT PROGRAM DO YOU USE? ↳ photoshop (i do NOT recommend it) WHAT PROGRAMS DO YOU RECOMMEND? ↳ pixquare (you can get 30% off with code 8PXL), aseprite, graphicsgale, even krita! HOW DID I LEARN PIXEL ART? ↳ trial and error basically. I started by just trying to create, and once I hit roadblocks I would google tutorials, or find similar artwork to what I'm trying to achieve. i started heavily doing monochromatic work then eventually working into more complex pieces! GOOD RESOURCES ON LEARNING PIXEL ART? ↳ lospec is a great learning resource. has tutorials, color palettes, and a large community. there's also lots of great tutorials on youtube, like adamcyounis. there's also saint11's great tutorials.

[pathologicalreid]

born in a burning house | s.r.

in which an arsonist is going around and abducting children, with your daughter as their next target

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: arson, child endangerment, references the popular kids, the instincts, and amplification, girl dad!spencer, happy ending word count: 4.21k a/n: as my good friend haley would say: baby arson! happy father's day (if you didn't figure out why i was posting every day, it was because of father's day. i'm going to take a nap now.)

Tears that welled in your eyes made it impossible for you to read the papers in front of you. The descriptions of violent crimes being committed against children made your chest feel tight, and you continuously had to hold yourself back from calling your nanny. You trusted Sydney, and she’d been vetted by Penelope, who’d used the strictest scrutiny possible when conducting a background check. 

Tapping on the screen of your phone to wake it up, you were met with an image of your daughter. You had fast enough reflexes to snap a photo of her very first smile. Spencer had the same photo printed out on his desk. 

You took a deep breath, you returned to the case file that Hotch handed you. Someone had already skimmed through it, removing all of the photos before it landed on your desk, protecting you from your job. 

It didn’t take a profiler to know why they’d done it. Someone was going around the tri-state area and abducting children, going younger each time, and each child had turned up dead less than twenty-four hours later. Your daughter was only four months old, you were fresh off of maternity leave, and despite the fact that Hotch had offered you a way out, you were determined to stay on this case. It was your first big one since coming back, and if you couldn’t handle this, you couldn’t handle your job anymore. 

“Hey,” Spencer said from behind you, entering the roundtable room and taking a seat next to you. He eyed the file suspiciously, scrutinizing the details of the page before turning his attention to you. “How are you holding up?” 

Refraining from taking your eyes off of the files, you hummed in response, flipping through the pages before truly answering. “If the UnSub sticks to pattern, they’ll be abducting another baby soon,” you reminded him, “and they’ll go younger.” 

Spencer was quiet for a moment, acknowledging the same thing you’d been anxious about for the past day. The last child who had been abducted was seven months old, a little boy whose mother you’d comforted until you had to excuse yourself. He eyed your phone, “Did you call?” 

“No,” you answered miserably, you’d been holding back. You were afraid of recognizing it as a threat. “Do you think I should?”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I think that if worrying about Annie gets in the way of working this case, then you should probably call Sydney.”

Nodding slowly, you tapped the screen of your phone again, looking at the photo of your daughter that illuminated the screen. You picked up the phone, deciding you’d make the call out of an abundance of caution, you opened your contacts and dialed Sydney’s number, holding the phone to your ear while it rang. 

And rang. 

And rang. 

When you got her voicemail instead of a real answer, you frowned up at your husband. “Uh, Hey, Syd. Spencer and I just wanted to give you a call to check in and see how Annaliese is doing. Give me a call back.” 

You hung up the phone, pursing your lips at the fact that the action intended to quell your anxiety had only made you more nervous. In the albeit short time you’d known Sydney, you’d never gotten her voicemail, the sound was so foreign to you that it’d taken you a moment to even realize you’d gotten the machine. “What’s going on?” Hotch asked, walking into the roundtable room on the other side, Kate and Derek following close behind him. 

“Uh,” you said, your voice breaking a seal of emotion in your throat. “Our nanny isn’t answering the phone.” You sent her a quick text asking her how it’s going before looking back up at your boss. 

Hotch took one look at you and Spencer before nodding, “Go home and check in.” You stood up from your chair at his direction. He shook his head before you could protest, “Take JJ with you.” 

Just in case. He didn’t have to say the words, but you knew that was his intention of bringing the other agent along with you. It didn’t help the tightness in your chest that he didn’t suggest sending a squad car through your neighborhood before he sent you home. The acknowledgment that your daughter fit the victimology hurt almost as much as the fact itself. 

After Spencer insisted that only one of you needed to go, you passed through the bullpen, grabbing JJ on your way through headquarters. You let her drive, knowing you were too unstable to do so, “What’s the over under on Hotch letting me bring her back to the office?” You asked, trying to break through the thick tension of the SUV.

JJ laughed lightly at your joke—a pity laugh, really—as she turned onto your street. “I don’t know. That little girl kind of has us all…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed something in the distance, and you followed her gaze until you saw it too. 

“Call Spencer,” you said, letting yourself out of the car before it had the chance to come to a full stop. You pushed through the front door, broken off of its hinges, stepped into your home, and drew your weapon. 

Your heart raced while you walked through the eerie silence of your home, clearing the main floor before going upstairs. The first room that you checked was the nursery, decorated with toys that she couldn’t play with yet and stuffed animals that she wasn’t old enough to sleep with. You knew JJ was close behind, hearing the creak of the bannister that you needed to fix while you cleared the bathroom, checking behind the curtain when you noticed the sound of the birds chirping got louder the closer you got to your bedroom. 

With the sound of blood rushing to accompany you, you let yourself into the room, surprised to find the balcony doors were wide open. You rarely left it open anymore, and you definitely wouldn’t have left it like that before leaving for work. Peeking into the bassinet, your heart dropped at the sight of the bare sheets, but something nagged at you, telling you to check the balcony. 

Trusting your instincts, you hesitantly approached the fence, checking out the backyard before looking down. There was Sydney, sitting in a puddle of blood that seemed to be coming from her head. Her green eyes were still open as they stared up at you, blankly pleading with you to help her, but there was no saving her. 

The blood that surrounded her had coagulated, transforming your back patio into a murder scene instead of an entertainment space. “Did you find anything?” JJ asked from the doorway, moving through the room until she was standing next to you, looking down at the horrific picture painted beneath you.

Annie was gone, and her nanny was dead. The only conclusion you could find was that your daughter had been taken, defenseless at only four months old, and based on the way Sydney’s limbs laid at the end of her fall, she’d been pushed—the last line of defense, defeated. 

“Spencer’s on his way,” JJ assured you. “The whole team’s on their way.” 

Along with a small army, you imagined, crime scene techs and local officers and anyone else they could scrounge up on a moment's notice. You were grateful for JJ in the moment, how she stayed with you on the balcony until Spencer arrived. She didn’t tell you anything, and she didn’t try to get you to talk. JJ didn’t need anything from you except for you to keep standing. 

“Reid,” you heard JJ say, overhearing the shuffling of feet before you were turned ninety degrees, positioned face to face with your husband. 

His eyes were lined with red, a mixture of his current emotions and the residual exhaustion from a late night with the baby. Your body was rigid as he pulled you into his arms, your eyes burned as you resisted the need to cry. You refused to succumb to violent tears when your daughter needed you, but you felt Spencer’s silent tears drop onto your neck while he held you. 

Your resolve unraveled in an instant, all of the phones around you started going off, the hauntingly familiar sound of an AMBER Alert bringing all of your emotion to the surface. The first sob wracked through your body while your legs gave out beneath you, the both of you dropping to the floor together. 

Everything that happened in the interim had been a haze, friends and strangers alike walking through your home like you weren’t there. You were sat on the couch with a stuffed bunny that someone had given you to hold onto. It was the one that Annie fell asleep with every night, gripping it with her tiny fingers until you were sure she was asleep, at which point it rested on your nightstand. 

Separate from you, Spencer was in the kitchen with Rossi and Kate, going through every detail of the case while you sat on the couch, unable to do anything except for catastrophize. Whoever had turned on the TV was eligible to win a Least Valuable Player award, leaving you to watch your daughter’s missing persons report flash on the bottom of the news screen. 

Despite the fact that they assumed you’d tuned everyone out, you were listening into their theories about the UnSub. “What do you think he wants with the kids?” Spencer asked, a layer of hesitation blanketing his tone, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

“Well,” Rossi started his answer, “I think it’s pretty clear at this point that he’s looking for a surrogate, but there’s one thing that’s been off about his victimology.” 

“Gender,” Kate filled in the blank. “He switches from boys and girls sporadically.”

While they shuffled around papers, you traced shapes with your eyes on the textured ceiling of your living room. “Is there a gender he keeps for longer periods?” 

You closed your eyes while you waited for someone to answer, going over the details of the case solitarily while listening into their conversation. “The boys,” Rossi answered regretfully.

“He keeps the boys longer,” Spencer said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and taking a seat.

Dragging yourself up from the couch, you walked over to the kitchen at a sloth’s pace, looking at the crime scene photos that were now scattered across your home. No one spoke to you, but they all turned to face you. Expectant looks from everyone went your way, though whether or not they expected you to speak up or break down, you didn’t know. 

When you did speak, your voice was hoarse, and your throat felt like you had spent the last hour swallowing shards of glass. “Do you remember Michael Bridges?”

Kate frowned, “Who’s Michael Bridges?” 

“A little boy from a case we worked in Las Vegas six years ago,” Rossi clarified. 

Patiently, Spencer nodded at you, “He was kidnapped by a woman who was experiencing psychosis after going off her medication while she was pregnant. Her son was taken away from her by the state, so she used the boys as surrogates for her baby.” You weren’t surprised that Spencer remembered the case so well. Aside from his eidetic memory, that case had also caused memories of another little boy to resurface—someone he had known in his childhood. “What made you think of him?” 

You peered at the photos of your daughter that had made their way to the table, “Claire Bates was kidnapping young boys even though her son was only a newborn. Her psychosis was strong enough to convince her that the boys were only infants.” You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking uncontrollably until you wrapped your arms around yourself, “Men abduct kids. Women abduct infants.”

“The UnSub’s a woman,” Kate clarified immediately. 

Nodding, you stepped up to the table, returning to an active role in the case. “A mother,” you continued, “Probably to a little boy, only a few months old.”  

Rossi set his phone on the table, placing his hands on his hips while he waited for Penelope to answer the phone. “Please tell me you found something,” her voice chimed in, not waiting for a traditional greeting before jumping into the case. 

“Garcia, compile a list of accidental deaths of infants four months old and younger within the comfort zone,” he started giving her parameters. “We’re looking for someone who lost a little boy.” 

Penelope sighed on the other end of the call, “Oh, this is a sad list.” 

You leaned over the table, planting your palms on the oak surface for stability, “Penelope, start with accidental deaths and then broaden out to removals from the home.” 

She was quiet for a moment, likely searching for the proper thing to say while her fingers continued frantically typing. “First list, sent, Honey Bunches of Oats,” she told you, the chime of your phone signalling that you’d gotten a list in your email. “Okay, and– oh…” She said, her voice trailing off. 

“What is it?” Dave asked, furrowing his brows at the phone. 

The technical analyst took a deep breath, “Well, you see, two months ago there was an incident in Alexandria. A baby boy named Elijah Holmes was napping in his crib when the house went up in flames while under the care of his babysitter, Natalie. According to the fire department the fire was totally accidental and was caused by faulty wiring, but the mother of the baby has been quoted as putting all of the blame on the sitter. I was just thinking maybe there’s a connection because of how the last victim was found. Maybe. Possibly.” 

You frowned at her implication of a connection, “What was the connection?” You asked generally, looking around the kitchen while you waited for someone to tell you the truth. 

“The most recent victim, the little boy, he was found with burns on his left side,” Kate answered for everyone else.

Glaring at Spencer, you set your jaw while he avoided your gaze. “Penelope, where’s the mom now?” 

Listing off an address, you all grabbed the things you needed before heading out of the front door, you loaded into cars. You and Spencer sat in the backseat on an SUV while Rossi and Kate sat in the front, Penelope conferenced the rest of the team in on the call while you let your anger and fear simmer. “I didn’t think it was pertinent,” Spencer admitted mournfully, telling you what you’d already assumed: he’d been the one to hide the arson aspects of the case from you. 

“And what do you think now?” You said bitterly, refusing to look at him. 

He sighed, “I was wrong.”

Pulling the stuffed bunny from the pocket of your jacket, you set it in between the two of you and sighed. “Yeah,” you murmured ruefully, “You were.” 

Upon arrival at the mother’s new address, a rental that she’d moved into with money from an insurance settlement, Hotch met you and Spencer behind the police line. “You two can’t go in,” he insisted, despite the fact that everyone around you was currently preparing to enter the home. People that Annaliese wouldn’t know crowded the house while you and Spencer were effectively sidelined. 

Derek had positioned himself in front of the both of you, ready to pull you back should you decide to make a run for it, but you resigned yourself to the idea that it would all be over soon. You tried to ignore your racing heart while JJ tried to negotiate with the mother, “Abby Holmes, we know you’re in there.”

You grew more and more impatient as the time went on, and with no response from the UnSub, your hope started to dwindle. “Spence,” you whispered. 

He nodded, acknowledging that he was feeling the same way. “I know,” he muttered back, the stuffed rabbit gripped in his hands. 

Chewing anxiously on your bottom lip, you waited for something to happen, and your heart seized when you heard an alarm going off. From inside the house, a smoke alarm had started going off, and instinctively, you and Spencer both took off running. 

While Derek body blocked Spencer, his only option left was to grab you to pull you back, but all he got was a handful of your jacket. You left it behind, letting him pull it off while you ducked under the police tape, sprinting up the front yard while Spencer shouted your name from the street.

The front door was unlocked, and you swung it open before entering. You smelled the smoke emanating, and once you were in the house, you heard the wails of your daughter. Annie’s horrified cries signaled you to her location, with your weapon drawn, you walked to the back of the house. The UnSub was in the living room, the curtains set ablaze from behind her, but what you were really focused on was Annie.

Her face was bright red, likely from a combination of the heat and her endless screams. From what you could see, she looked free from any serious injuries, but you had to get her away from the fire. 

“You had the babysitter,” the UnSub said, though it wasn’t an observation—it was an accusation. She coughed through the quickly thickening smoke, “You had the babysitter.” 

You tried to wave the smoke away from your face, “Sydney was our nanny,” you told her, eyes burning. 

She shook her head, “She was the babysitter.” You nodded at her insistence, “She wouldn’t let me take him, so I did what I had to do. I had to get him to safety.”

“You’re right,” you cajoled her, though it comforted you to know that Sydney had died trying to protect your daughter. “You had to save him. Your baby’s name is Elijah, right?” Even though there was nothing more you wanted to do than get your baby back, you had to make sure you did so safely. “My daughter’s name is Annaliese,” you told her. “She’s four months old. Her dad and I call her Annie.” 

Your heart ached at the way your daughter responded to her name being called, her wails ebbing for just a moment when she finally noticed you. “He wasn’t safe with the babysitter,” Abby insisted again. 

You nodded, “I know. I know,” you coughed through the smoke, “but we aren’t safe here either, Abby. We need to get away from the fire.” 

“I should’ve been there,” she said mournfully, turning her head to look at the ever growing fire. Your chest ached as breathing became more and more of a chore. “I should’ve died with him,” she told you. 

Finally, everything made sense to you, in a way that only an UnSubs actions could make sense. She was trying to recreate the day her son died, except now she was trying to take another baby down with her. “Abby,” you said her name as gently as you could while still being audible over the wailing and alarms, “Elijah’s gone. I’m so sorry.” 

She shook her head, stepping backwards—closer to the fire—and muttering to herself, “no, no, no, no.”

“You can save her though,” you assured her, holding your hands out for Annaliese while wondering if you’d make it in time if you had to lunge for her. Her little legs kicked in protest, though you noticed she was losing steam, and you’d found yourself growing faint while the flames continued to grow. 

A pop came from the couch behind her, embers flying at her, and when she flinched from the burns, her grip slipped on Annie. You took your opportunity, crouching to grab the baby before she had the chance to hit the floor. 

For less than a split second, you watched Abby and considered helping her out, but the helpless baby on your hip had to take priority and you ran for the door. You had a much more sluggish pace when running outside than you had when you were on your way in. “Reid,” Someone shouted, and you slowed down slightly when you were almost at the edge of the property. 

You smiled despite yourself when JJ was the first to get to you, she was scolding you about running into a burning building while your head spun. 

Spencer got to you next, not far behind JJ. Together, the two of them led you to the ambulance, keeping you upright when adrenaline caused you to trip over your feet. Quietly, Spencer kept whispering the same words over and over again, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He repeated, kneeling in front of you once you sat down at the ambulance and the EMTs got you and Annie fitted with oxygen masks.

Frowning when Spencer tried to take the baby from you, your grip on her tightened protectively. 

“I know,” he murmured gently, knowing you’d just almost died trying to get her and didn’t want to give her up so easily. “You have a burn on your arm,” he let you know, “Let me take her for a little while so they can treat it. We’ll stay right next to you.” 

Reluctantly, your hold on Annie loosened while Spencer pulled her onto his lap, staying true to his word and taking a seat on the rig next to you. He cradled her, and you both sighed in relief when she finally stopped bawling.

Her little hands tugged at the mask on her face, but her father produced the small stuffed animal that you’d taken from the house, handing it to her to keep her tiny fingers occupied. Hearing shouting from the house, your hand that was holding your own oxygen mask to your face fell to your lap at the sight of Abby being carried out by the firefighters. Paramedics crowded her when they laid her on the grass, but by the looks of it, there was nothing to be done. 

Using his empty hand, Spencer lifted your hand back to your face, “Keep this on, honey.” His hands shook with residual fear, and you were sure yours weren’t performing better. 

You held the oxygen mask to your face, and tears fell from your smoke affected eyes while he looped the elastic bit around your head. “I thought…” your voice trailed off, garbled by the smoke inhalation and muffled by the mask. 

“I know,” Spencer responded, kissing the top of your head when you leaned onto his shoulder, looking down at Annie, who giggled at the sight of you with your oxygen mask on. 

“Here,” Spencer whispered, passing you the cup of water he’d gotten you when you arrived at the pediatric unit. The burn on your arm was freshly debrided and bandaged, and aside from a prescription you needed to pick up in the morning, you were fully treated. 

Because her lungs were considerably smaller than yours, the doctors at the hospital decided it would be best for her to stay overnight for observation. Though they were impressed with her condition, telling you that, of all things, her crying had likely protected her. The extended wails had prevented too much smoke from entering her lungs 

You sipped at the cold water gratefully, looking down at Annaliese while she slept in the hospital bassinet. You set it down next to you, glancing up at Spencer while he tapped his fingers. “What’s wrong?” 

He raised his eyebrows, stilling his fingers in acknowledgement that he had been caught. “I used to have this dream,” he murmured, keeping his voice down so he didn’t disturb your sleeping daughter. “It started around the time I had first joined the BAU,” he continued, “There was a baby girl in the middle of a fire, put there by an UnSub, and no matter what I try, I’ve never been able to get to her in time.” 

Taking a deep breath, you studied his expression carefully, “Well, you don’t believe in dream analysis…” 

“No,” he replied, “I don’t.” 

Shrugging, you rested your chin on the bassinet, “I mean. You couldn’t get to her, so I did.” He’d previously admitted to using from choice words toward Derek when he held Spencer back, but as far as you knew, all was well between the two of them. 

Spencer frowned, “By running into a burning building.” His tone was chiding, and you understood why. You wouldn’t have changed your actions, but you understood why it bothered him so much. “Without thinking first,” he added. 

You smiled shyly, “Yeah, it reminds me of this guy I knew who once ran into an anthrax lab without a mask. Although, he didn’t really run. His pace was pretty leisurely.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in response, “Yeah. That probably wasn’t the best decision, but we got a good result.” His hand reached into the bassinet, dragging a knuckle down your daughter’s cheek while she shifted slightly on the sterile mattress. 

“Yeah,” you hummed, reaching into the bassinet and taking his hand in yours, “I think we did.”

[myrleius]

a little sweeter every time (snippets!) — tsukishima. k

timeskip tsukishima k. x aspiring baker fem!reader│wc: 6.7k

synopsis: Tsukishima didn’t expect to see his high school crush again—much less help her open a bakery.

cw/tags: slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, food/baking themes, slice of life, comfort

It had started six months ago, on a day as ordinary as any other.

Caught in a sudden downpour, Tsukishima ducked into the nearest cafe, rain dripping from his coat and his hair matted to his forehead. He was halfway through shaking it off when he froze.

There, at the end of the line, stood yn.

She looked older, obviously. Her hair was shorter now, her expression a little more tired. But the moment she noticed him, her face lit up, the same way it always had. And just like that, it was as if no time had passed at all.

“Tsukishima?”

Her voice was warm, surprised, still so easy to recognize.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses to buy a second. “Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you,” she laughed, digging into her pocket before handing him a handkerchief. “Here. You look like a drowned cat.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, blinking at the tiny cartoon bunnies printed across the fabric, finding the childish pattern to be so typically her.

He hadn’t expected that chance encounter to lead to anything, but somehow, over shared desserts and a slow afternoon, the conversation kept going. 

She stirred her coffee absently, a small frown tugging at her lips. “I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

She nodded, propping her chin on her hand. “Endless work, overtime with no extra pay, coworkers who act like ‘teamwork’ means dumping their tasks on me… I don’t even remember the last time I slept properly.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Sounds like hell.”

“Exactly.” She paused, hesitating a little, then leaned in. “I was thinking of opening up a bakery.”

He looked up. “A bakery?”

“I know. It’s crazy.” Her voice softened, almost shy. “But I’ve always loved baking. It never feels like work. When I’m up at 3AM frosting cupcakes, I actually don’t hate my life.”

He watched her—the way she fiddled with her cup, the hopeful look she tried to hide—before shrugging, casual as ever. “Then do it.”

“Just like that?” She laughed nervously. “What if I’m terrible at it?”

He reached for the last forkful of his cake, chewing thoughtfully before responding. “Then practice. I’ll tell you if it tastes like garbage.”

It was meant to be a throwaway comment, but she had perked up at that, eyes bright and earnest.

“Wait, really? You’d do that for me?”

He fought the urge to look away, instead smirking slightly. “If it means free food, sure.”

She grinned, nudging his arm. “You’re terrible. But… thanks.”

And maybe it was the contact. Or her smile. But for that second, he felt a faint heat creeping up his neck. 

Maybe some of those high school butterflies had survived after all these years.

After that, they exchanged numbers. And that’s how Tsukishima became her regular taste-tester.

The next week, they met at the same cafe.

Yn slid a small box of chocolate chip cookies across the table, fingers tapping nervously against the lid before she let go.

“Here,” she said with a sheepish smile. “They’re a little flat and the edges got too crispy… but they should still taste okay?”

Tsukishima eyed the uneven rows, each one slightly different in shape. He picked one up, inspecting it briefly before taking a bite.

“So?” she asked, leaning in, practically holding your breath. “How is it?”

She looks way too serious than she needed to.

He chewed slowly on purpose, dragging out the moment just to mess with her, before swallowing. “They’re tough. A little greasy. And too many chocolate chips. It throws off the balance.”

She nodded, pulling out her phone to type his comment. “Mm. Got it.”

Before she could finish, he grabbed another cookie and popped it into his mouth.

“Wait—!” she yelped, lunging to close the lid.

“Mmf?” Tsukishima blinked, still mid-chew.

“You just said they weren’t good,” she accused, holding the box away.

He swallowed, lazily reaching for it again. “I said they’re not that good. Big difference.”

She squinted at him. “And you still want more?”

“It’s edible,” he said with a shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, gimme more.”

“You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” yn mused, placing a box of black sesame muffins in the space between them.

Tsukishima took one without hesitation, peeling back the wrapper before biting into it. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Just unexpected. You seem more like a… vegetable kind of guy.”

“Brilliant deduction.” He brushed a few crumbs off his jeans, leaning back against the park bench with an easy slouch. “Next you’ll say I only drink water.”

She laughed, warm and easy, and Tsukishima pretended not to notice how it made him want to say something stupid again, just to keep her laughing.

“I would’ve if I hadn’t seen you downing coffee the other day,” she said with a teasing lilt. Pulling out her phone, she relaxed into the bench. “So? Tell me what you think?”

He turned the muffin in his hand, inspecting it. “The crust’s kind of dark. Bitter, too.”

“It’s toasty,” she corrected, but her fingers were already typing his comment into her phone. “That’s how black sesame’s supposed to taste.”

“Not really my thing then,” he said.

Still, he smirked a little.

“But are you sure you didn’t just burn it?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted.

“These are good,” Tsukishima murmured, taking another bite of the melonpan. He licked the custard from his lips with barely a pause.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “I’ve kind of mastered them. My dad’s picky. He won’t touch the convenience store ones. So my mom and I used to bake them on the weekends.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Fresh ones hit differently.” A pause. “But the chocolate chip ones from Sakanoshita’s? Those are really good.”

Yn’s eyes lit up. “You know those? My dad gives me the stink eye everytime I bring one home, like I’ve betrayed the family or something.”

He huffed a laugh. “You haven’t had one in a while?”

“In forever,” she groaned. “My place is too far. None of the nearby shops carry it.”

He didn’t look at her when he said, “I’ll bring you some.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

He shrugged, casual. “I stop by sometimes. I’ll grab a few.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

He took another bite, eyes fixed on the table. “It’s nothing.”

But he was already planning which day he'd make the detour.

Tsukishima popped the last bite of castella into his mouth, folded the parchment, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You really figured this one out.”

“It took forever,” yn said, grinning down at the remaining slices. “The trick was cooling the flour mixture. If it’s too warm, it sinks.”

He nodded, grabbing another piece without comment.

Across the park, two boys were practicing volleyball. They were clumsy, missing more than they landed. Tsukishima watched them, chewing slowly.

Yn must’ve noticed him watching. “Yachi told me you still play,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he replied, eyes narrowing when one of the kids flubbed a receive. “When I’ve got time.”

“Yeah, because playing pro on the Sendai Frogs is just a casual hobby,” she said, too lightly to be anything but teasing.

He turned to her, caught off guard. “Yachi told you that too?”

“Nope,” she said, leaning back with a small smile. “I looked it up.”

He scoffed, looking away, mostly to hide the way his ears were heating. “So you stalked me.”

“I searched Hinata and the others too, idiot,” she huffed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.

He laughed, short and quiet. Still, something about her taking the time to look him up made his chest feel annoyingly… nice.

“She was happy for you,” she added, voice softer now. “Yachi, I mean. Said you guys really loved it. That it’s kind of amazing you still get to do it.”

Her gaze drifted to the boys in the distance. She didn’t say much else, but he could see it in the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bench. That distant look when they first met again. Something tired and wistful beneath it.

Regret.

The ball rolled toward them—another failed receive. It bumped his foot.

He bent down and picked it up.

“You didn’t quit either, you know,” he said without looking at her.

And before she could answer, he jogged off, sleeves rolled up, calling out to the kids—ready to demonstrate, and to distract himself from the way his own heartbeat wouldn’t settle.

They bumped into each other in the produce section.

“Woah,” she said, grinning. “Are you stalking me this time?”

Tsukishima didn’t miss a beat. “I wish. Then I could’ve avoided this.”

She laughed. “Harsh, as always.”

They ended up walking through the aisles together, trading off commentary on ridiculous prices and silently judging people who blocked the middle of the lane. It wasn’t planned, but neither of them minded. It was fun, even.

He peeked into her basket. “Cheesecake?”

“Cheese tarts,” she corrected, plucking a carton of eggs off the shelf. “I’ll make them this Friday. I’ll text you.”

He nodded, already storing the date without thinking.

She glanced into his basket next. “Oyakodon?”

“For the weekend.”

She lit up, already on the move. “Add butter when you sauté the garlic. And—hold on—this.” She grabbed a tiny jar of sansho pepper and dropped it in his basket without waiting for permission.

Tsukishima frowned at it, eyeing the addition skeptically. “... That’s not in the recipe.”

“That’s because your recipe’s boring,” she said with a grin. “Trust me. Once you try it, you’ll never go back. I’ll even pay for it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

It wasn’t. Tsukishima made it again three days later, then again after that.

But he didn’t tell her knowing she’d gloat.

“Ah, come in. Watch the corner.”

“I am,” Tsukishima grunted, shifting the heavy box in his arms as he stepped inside. “Where do I put this?”

“By the door’s fine,” yn said, already slipping off her soaked shoes. She propped the umbrella in the corner, droplets pattering against the tile, then glanced back at him. “Wait here. I’ll get towels.”

She turned left down the hallway, disappearing from view. 

Left standing in the genkan, Tsukishima glanced around—first to the row of shoes neatly lined up, then to the absurd pair of shark slippers tucked beside them. The left one was slightly crooked, as if kicked off in a hurry. 

His lips twitched. Of course.

She returned a moment later, arms full with towels and… were those papers?

He raised an eyebrow, taking one of the towels. “You planning to quiz me or dry me off?”

She snorted and crouched down. “It’s for the shoes, genius,” she said, stuffing the paper gently into her own. “It helps soak the water out. Now yours.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

Wordlessly, he toed his shoes off and handed them over. She took them without hesitation, still crouched like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He watched her, towel hanging forgotten in one hand. The way she tucked her damp hair behind her ear, the quiet focus in her hands. It was weirdly... attractive.

Then, there was a movement out of the corner of his eye.

A cat—small, mostly white with a patch of grey on its head—peeked out from behind the hallway wall.

“Ah, Chobi!” Yn’s voice brightened instantly. “C’mere, girl.”

The cat stared at her, then gave Tsukishima a wary glance before skittering out of sight.

“She’s not good with strangers,” she chuckled, rising to her feet. “Especially tall ones with bad posture.”

Tsukishima scoffed, rubbing the towel over his hair. “She’s got a type then—people who rope their friends into free labor.”

“Right. Thank you, by the way,” she said, sheepishly brushing her fingers through her own wet bangs. “I completely forgot my relatives were delivering that today.”

“What even is in it?”

“Fruits and veggies. They have a farm. I think it’s a lot of citrus this time.”

He hummed, casting a brief glance at the box. “You were gonna haul that up by yourself?”

“Well…” She looked off to the side. “I was gonna try.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She only smiled innocently and turned toward the kitchen, voice floating over her shoulder. “Anyway, since you’re here already, we might as well do the tasting. To repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

He sighed, trailing after her. “What is it this time?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a small smile. “Still warm, too.”

“She’s really taken a liking to you,” yn said, stirring brownie batter, the spoon clinking softly against the glass bowl.

Across the room, Tsukishima sat cross-legged on the floor, dangling a feather wand loosely from his fingers.

Chobi pounced on the toy, paws wrapped around it like a trophy. She let out a triumphant meow before plopping down to gnaw at it.

“She only likes me because you make me feed her every time I’m here,” he muttered, scratching the top of her head. Chobi didn’t flinch. That was new.

“She associates you with her survival now,” she called over her shoulder, amused. “That’s a powerful bond.”

He cracked a smile, rising to his feet. That was new too—him being here after work, tasting whatever pastry she decided to whip up.

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside her.

“You should be careful,” he teased. “At this rate, your cat might start following me home.”

“She’d never,” she snorted. “She’s clingy. I can’t even wake up without her climbing onto my face.”

He actually laughed at that, picturing the image in his head.

She set the bowl aside and stepped toward the cabinets. One hand steadied her against the counter as she rose onto her tiptoes, the other reaching for a box on the top shelf, fingers just barely brushing.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, moving in behind her and grabbed it in one easy motion. “Here.”

Her hand dropped as she turned—eyes wide as she realized how close he was.

“Oh… thanks,” she said, taking a step back, only to bump lightly into the counter. She blinked up at him.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

For a second, the kitchen felt way too small. 

She ducked her head, a faint pink rising to her cheeks.

And his mind became quiet. Then unbearably loud.

Without thinking, he raised the box and gently tapped it against the top of her head.

“Next time,” he said, voice a little lower, “maybe ask someone taller first.”

A breathy laugh escaped her, soft with a hint of nervousness. “S-Sorry,” she said, taking the box from his hand, fingers brushing against his for just a second too long.

Chobi meowed loudly from the living room, breaking the moment. Barely.

Things hadn’t changed, exactly. But Tsukishima started noticing the little things now.

Like how yn stared a second too long when he talked, then quickly looked away like she hadn’t been caught. How she’d fuss with her hair when he walked up to her, tucking strands that weren’t even out of place. How she’d suddenly ask him about historical facts or volleyball games—topics she’d never cared about before.

And the calls.

Always with some excuse: “My hands are covered in flour” or “I’m chopping onions,” like she couldn’t just pause for two seconds to type.

But the most obvious thing?

She’d started dressing nicer. Still her, still casual, but… cuter. Stud earrings when they went out. Soft knits instead of shapeless hoodies. And today, a fitted t-shirt instead of the usual graphic tees she used to lounge in.

And then there was this—her fingers, tugging his jacket sleeve to get his attention instead of just saying his name.

“Earth to the nerd,” she said, giving it a light pull. “You good?”

He blinked. “Just wondering how much longer I have to stand here before you actually feed me.”

She rolled her eyes. “ I heard patience is a virtue.”

“So is basic competence.”

She elbowed him, laughing, and for a second, it felt normal again. 

But when she turned back to the stove—and there it was. The way she smiled to herself. The slight flush on her neck. How she stirred the saucepan a little too fast.

Tsukishima exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d dated before. He knew the signs.

And yet.

Maybe she’s just like this with everyone.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe—

Maybe he just needed to be sure.

“That what you’re dipping it in?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.” Still not looking at him.

“Smells sweet,” he said, leaning in a little.

Her hand faltered.

“Can you hand me the cream puffs?” she asked.

He nodded, pulling back. He grabbed the tray and brought it over.

She turned off the stove, grabbed one, and dipped it in the caramel. Then—almost absently—she held it up to him.

He paused, caught off guard.

She seemed to realize it a second later. Her eyes widened, and the puff wobbled slightly in her fingers.

Tsukishima’s gaze softened before he leaned down and took a bite, careful not to touch her fingers.

Just to avoid embarrassing her, he told himself.

“Not bad,” he said, licking a bit of caramel off the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t burn it this time.”

She made a strangled sound. “It was one time—and it was like, months ago—”

“Sure,” he said, watching the way she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just—it’s hot.”

“The caramel?”

She nodded fast. “Yeah. That.”

Sure it was.

He turned away to hide a smile.

Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.

“Ah, this is so cute!” 

“Right! It suits your idea for the interior!”

“Oi.” Tsukishima lightly karate-chopped yn’s head before setting a tray down on the table. “Volume, please. We’re in public.”

Behind him, Yamaguchi offered an apologetic smile to the nearby patrons while Yachi ducked her head sheepishly. Yn rubbed the spot he'd tapped, shooting him a mock glare.

They were supposed to be helping her prep for her bakery launch. So far, it had mostly devolved into their usual chaos.

“What’s got you two so worked up anyway?” Yamaguchi asked as he sat beside Yachi, helping pass out plates.

“Yachi drafted a logo for me!” yn said proudly, sliding the paper to the center of the table.

"Whoa, this is amazing," Yamaguchi said, leaning in for a closer look.

Tsukishima set yn's plate in front of her. "You sure you don't wanna slap her face on it? I've got some truly cursed ones if you need material."

“You said you deleted those!” she hissed.

“And you actually believed me?” he said, adjusting his glasses with zero remorse.

Yachi blinked. “Wait... you have pictures of yn?”

Yamaguchi coughed into his hand, poorly hiding his grin.

"It's not a big deal," Tsukishima said flatly. "I have photos of all of you."

"Oh, but he has a special collection of Chobi," yn cut in, eyes glinting. "Did you know he bought her a sparkly collar for her birthday last month? And a tiny tiara—"

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging her ankle under the table.

Laughter erupted from the other side of the booth.

“That’s… kind of unexpected,” Yamaguchi mused, eyeing them.

“Right?” yn said through giggles. “He spoils her more than I do.”

“Oh, I meant you two,” Yamaguchi added, a little smug now.

Tsukishima shot him a glare. Yamaguchi merely smiled back, unfazed.

“I agree,” Yachi chimed in, her tone gentle but her smile teasing. “You’ve gotten really close. It’s… nice. You barely talked in high school.”

“Blame Mr. Antisocial over here,” yn muttered, cheeks pink as he gestured at Tsukishima. “He’d only say two words to me back then.”

Tsukishima gently pushed her hand away, his voice dry but not unkind. “And yet you never shut up. Funny how that works.”

She hid her smile behind her drink.

Then he turned to the other two, the picture of innocence—except for the ruthless gleam in his eyes.

“Speaking of close,” he said casually, “cute matching watches. Ginza, right? During that... What was it? ‘Coincidental’ business trip?”

Yachi choked on her tea. Yamaguchi stared hard at the ceiling.

Tsukishima sipped from his drink, perfectly smug.

Tsukishima tapped his foot, checking his phone for the third time in a minute.

Yn was quitting her job today—finally. She’d saved enough for renovations and a few months’ expenses, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. She’d been texting him about it all morning.

So he’d decided to wait for her outside her office.

When she finally stepped out, she looked pale but composed, a file folder in one hand and her bag slung over her shoulder. No signs of crying. That seemed good.

“… Bad?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

“Terrible,” she murmured, letting out a shaky breath. But she offered him a wobbly smile. “But at least it’s over.”

He nodded. Silence settled between them, not awkward, just… weighty. He wasn’t great at this kind of thing. The whole comforting-people deal. But he could try.

After a brief hesitation, his hand came up and landed on her shoulder.

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“How do you know?” she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, thinking.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “No one does. Only time will tell.”

Her shoulders dipped slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m not done,” he said, chuckling faintly. “The one thing I do know is that you left something behind that was never going to get better, no matter how much time you gave it.”

Her eyes widened a little, the tension in her face softening. Slowly, she stepped closer. Her hands hovered at his sides, like she was asking permission.

A faint blush crept up Tsukishima’s neck. He looked away, but his hand tugged her just a little closer.

She stared at him for another moment, then let her arms fall back. Instead, she leaned in carefully, resting her head against his chest, leaving the smallest sliver of space between them.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He swallowed. His instinct was to pull her fully in—but they were still in public. And he didn’t want to crowd her.

So instead, he brought a hand up and gently ruffled her hair.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll treat you to yakiniku and beer.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned back. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he lied terribly. “I’m in the mood to drink. Plus, I want gossip. And I fully intend to talk shit about your co-workers now that you’re free.”

Tsukishima jolted when he felt a sudden pinch at his side.

“What the hell—?”

“You never gain weight no matter how much I feed you,” yn grumbled, eyeing his waist like it had personally offended her. “You eat half a cake and still look exactly the same. How is that possible?”

He scowled, swatting her hand away. “Don’t just go around poking people like that.”

She just laughed, clearly unrepentant.

“I play volleyball,” he added, brushing his shirt back down. “And I don’t sit around all day.”

“Still,” she huffed, fingers twitching like she was tempted again, “you can’t burn it off that fast.”

This time, he caught her wrist before she could make another move. His hand closed gently around hers.

“I walk to work. I’m on my feet during exhibit tours. I walk to your place, and then back to mine,” he said. “Probably genetics too. Everyone in my family’s like this.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” she muttered, pulling her hands back with a pout. “Some of us bloat just from inhaling sugar.”

He gave a smug shrug and pushed his hair back. “What can I say? I’m blessed. And you’re… you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah. So that’s where all that weight went—your ego.”

Tsukishima’s lips twitched. Without warning, he reached out and pinched both her cheeks between his fingers.

“Ah—Tsukki! Stop!” she squawked, smacking at his hands. “Let go! I’m sorry! I surrender!”

“You started it,” he said, satisfied as he finally let go.

She rubbed at her face, glaring half-heartedly, but there was warmth behind it.

A beat passed. Then they went back to sorting through labels and notes for her bakery.

Then, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Hey.”

He glanced over.

“You really walk all the way back after visiting?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “Just didn’t think you’d go that far out of your way. For cake.”

He gave her a long look, before his gaze returned to the papers, moving one to the side.

“It’s not just the cake,” he said quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

He didn’t need to look up to know that she was blushing. And yeah, his face was a little warm too.

“This area gets decent foot traffic,” Tsukishima said, nodding toward the street. “Close to the station too.”

Yn leaned closer to the window of the vacant space, hands cupped around her face. “It’s just the right size—around 45 square meters. Enough for the kitchen, counter, and display case.”

He nodded, watching her instead of the storefront. 

“You think this is the one?” he asked after a moment. “Or want to keep looking?”

She took one last look inside before straightening with a small sigh. “I really like it. But we should check a few more, just in case. Also… can we sit somewhere for a bit? My feet are killing me.”

“Weakling” he muttered, smirking as he reached out and steered her forward by the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the competition and get something sweet while we’re at it.”

She pulled out her phone, thumbing through her map app. “There was a pastry place a few blocks back, remember? We passed it earlier.”

Tsukishima nodded, eyes scanning ahead. “Yeah. That one looked decent.”

“Think you can make it without whining?” she teased, tilting her head up at him.

“I was about to ask you that,” he shot back. Then, slipping his hand from her shoulder, he added dryly, “Want me to carry you?”

She scoffed. “As if you could.”

His eyes glinted. “You’re right. You probably weigh a ton.”

She gasped and swung at him—he easily sidestepped, a low laugh slipping out.

They fell into step again, their bickering fading into comfortable silence. When she veers slightly toward the sunlit side of the street, he subtly moves to block the harsher glare from hitting her eyes.

“I forgot my couch is buried under all this chaos,” yn muttered, eyeing the explosion of color swatches, menu sketches, pastry boxes, and scattered notes across the living room.

Tsukishima barely glanced at the mess before dropping onto the floor. “This works.”

They ended up sitting cross-legged on a mess of pillows and throw blankets, backs leaned against the couch. The low table in front of them held a few leftover pastries and mismatched mugs of steaming tea. On the TV, a documentary he’d picked played softly, its narration a dry murmur under the quiet.

It wasn’t a date. Not really.

But it felt like one.

“Is this the one where they find teeth in that sediment thingy?” she asked, squinting at the screen.

Tsukishima side-eyed her. “‘Sediment thingy’? Real eloquent.”

“My bad,” she said, grinning.

Still, she kept watching.

Onscreen, grainy footage of rock beds and excavation sites rolled past, narrated by a monotone voice that only excited people like him.

“That layer there,” Tsukishima pointed at the screen with his mug, “Cretaceous. Most of the stuff they find there is marine life. Ammonites, mostly. Sometimes mosasaurs if they get lucky.”

“Ammonites,” she repeated, brow furrowed. “Those swirly guys?”

“Very technical description,” he deadpanned. “But yes.”

He expected her to zone out—most people did when he started—but she didn’t. She tilted her head toward the screen, eyes narrowed like she was actually trying to see it the way he did.

“They’re kinda pretty,” she murmured. “In a prehistoric, probably-deadly sort of way.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’d hate the real thing. They’re massive.”

“Really? I thought they were just ancient snails or something.”

That made him laugh again, shaking his head at her ridiculous descriptions. 

Somewhere between fossils and snails, his arm had found its way up, draped lazily along the couch behind them. Not touching her. Just close. She shifted slightly, leaning into the pillows. The back of her head brushed the inside of his forearm.

He didn’t move it.

Neither did she.

She laughed again at something he said and her knee nudged his. Her hand rested between them, fingers twitching like they might drift closer.

He turned his head toward her then, about to make some remark—but stopped.

She was already looking at him.

And she didn’t look away.

The light from the TV reflected in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

But it didn’t matter.

They were close enough for their noses to touch. Her fingers came up, curling into the side seam of his shirt. His arm tensed behind her, ready to close the gap. Their heads tilted ever so slightly, and her eyes fluttered shut.

If he moved just a little more—

Thump.

A blur of fur launched into his lap with a mrow that sounded far too proud.

Tsukishima blinked.

Yn drew back just enough to breathe in surprise.

Chobi, in perfect loaf formation, nestled across his thighs like she’d claimed them on purpose.

The moment shattered instantly.

“Are you serious…” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.

Chobi blinked up at him and purred.

Yn reached for the cat, but she rolled onto her back, paws batting playfully. “Chobi. You are the worst.”

“She’s evolving,” Tsukishima sighed, already giving in. He scratched Chobi’s head without thinking. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Chobi flopped dramatically, clearly agreeing.

Yn settled back with a soft laugh, picking up her mug. They stayed close, and the air was still warm, but the balance tipped off. Her knee bumped his again, but this time it felt like a reset.

“Well,” she said after a moment, gaze flicking to the screen. “Your ancient snail documentary’s actually kind of decent.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t yet. “Told you it wouldn’t be boring.”

That earned him a soft smile, but the charged air was gone now, tucked into the silence that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Chobi purred louder.

And Tsukishima tried not to think about what would’ve happened if that damn cat had waited just ten more seconds.

The bell above the door chimed softly and Tsukishima stepped inside.

Yn looked up from where she was stacking menus at the counter, surprise flickering across her face. “Hey. What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

He held up a potted orchid—white with a blush of pink at the center. “I figured you’d get plenty of gifts tomorrow. Thought I’d beat the crowd.”

She smiled, walking over to take the plant from his hands, admiring it. “Wow. You actually got these? For me?”

“I can be thoughtful, you know,” he muttered.

“Must be exhausting.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually… there’s another reason I dropped by.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay...”

“I’m not gonna make it to the opening.” His tone dropped a bit. “My co-worker bailed on the Fukui trip last minute, so I’m getting sent instead. I leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She took that in slowly, her smile dimming. “That’s… okay. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

He nodded, though the silence that followed sat heavier than he liked.

“Wait here,” she said after a moment, pivoting back toward the kitchen. “I made something for you. Figured you’d drop by for breakfast before going to work.”

She returned with a small plate—strawberry shortcake, pristine layers of sponge and cream, with a single slice of berry on top.

Tsukishima looked at it longer than necessary. “You made it.”

“You wouldn’t shut up about it,” she teased.

He chuckled and took the fork from her. “Guess I’m spoiled.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder behind the counter as he took a bite. And she watched him, like always.

He licked a bit of cream from his thumb. “This is delicious.”

Yn beamed. “That good?”

He nodded. “Good enough that I’m mad I won’t be here tomorrow to have more.”

“I’ll make it again when you come back then.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. He kept eating in comfortable silence, the hum between them growing thicker.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Very.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone’s coming. Even those two morons.”

“Hinata and Kageyama?”

“Yeah. The tall one asked if he needed to dress formal.”

“Oh god,” she groaned, laughing.

The tension broke into warmth, then softened again.

“Want anything from Fukui?” he asked.

“Habutae Kurumi, please,” she said, perking up.

“Of course you’d want the one thing with walnuts.”

“Hey! You asked.”

She leaned in a little then, arms crossed on the counter. Her face tilted slightly, amused but fond.

“Thanks, Tsukishima. For everything,” she said. “If I hadn’t met you again, if you didn’t give me the push I needed, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words sank in slowly and his heart warmed.

He leaned close too, putting the fork down. “I barely did anything. You did all the work. I just got free food.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her hand slid over his—light, hesitant. “You did more than you think.”

He stared at their hands for a moment, then gripped hers. “And I can do more if you want.”

Neither of them moved, not at first.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and when they flicked back up again, the answer was already there.

He leaned in, just a little. Her breath hitched.

Their noses brushed. Breaths mingling. The softest graze of lips—

Then his phone rang.

Loud and jarring.

“Shit.” He pulled back an inch, jaw tight. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

She stepped back just as quickly. “Right. Go ahead.”

The moment slipped through the cracks. Gone again.

Moments passed, and he was by the door.

“Thanks for the cake,” he said, quieter now.

“Thanks for the orchids,” she replied with a small smile.

“Sorry I can’t stay.” He reached up, pausing near her cheek before moving up to ruffle her hair instead.

“It’s fine. Really.” She leaned into his touch. A beat passed before she grabbed his shoulders, turning him around the door. “Now go. It’s late and you have to pack.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He gave a nod, then left.

It should’ve ended there.

But as Tsukishima walked a few paces down the quiet street, something gnawed at him.

He’d be back. In a week, everything would slide back into place. They’d share dessert. Bicker. Sit too close in her apartment and pretend the silence between them wasn’t filled with everything they didn’t want to say.

Nothing would change.

And that’s what got to him.

Because maybe that was the problem.

This itch in his chest—it wasn’t panic. Nothing bad was going to happen. She wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t moving across the world. There would be a thousand other moments to say something.

But even knowing that, he couldn’t shake the thought.

He just really, really wanted this to be the one.

He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look she gave him when she said thank you. Maybe it was how warm the place felt when it was just the two of them. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending he didn’t know what this was.

It didn’t make sense. But the feeling wouldn’t let go.

So he stopped walking.

Then he turned around.

The bell chimed again.

Yn blinked, “Tsukki? Did you forget something?”

He stood in the doorway, breath caught between resolve and hesitation. “Yeah. I did.”

She glanced around. “What? Your phone?”

“No.”

In a few strides, he was in front of her.

He used to think his high school crush on her was just a phase. One of those dumb, passing things you look back on and laugh about when you’re older and know better. He never said anything then. Just stayed in the background, convinced she’d never see someone like him.

And for a while, he believed he’d outgrown it. Got older. Dated other people. Learned how to care, let go, to move on and try again.

But then they met again and she had rearranged the way his life moved. Morning texts became habit. Stopping by after work turned into instinct. Even the smallest things—a song he heard her hum before, a cat on the street—automatically led back to her. She’d become his first thought, then his favorite one.

What he felt now wasn’t the same as back then, but it wasn’t lesser either.

He never believed in fate. Never bought into the idea of “the one.”

But standing here now, with his palms sweating like he was seventeen again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just this once—the cliché was right.

Maybe she was it.

So, he didn’t hesitate this time. He reached for her hand, steady despite his pulse hammering in his ears.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, voice a little too low, like he hoped saying it quietly would make it feel less embarrassing. “That I… I want to be there. For you. Not just with the bakery. But… everything.”

He cleared his throat, gaze flicking down to where their hands were joined. “I mean—I don’t know. Life stuff. Whatever that means.”

God.

He shut his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose, like maybe this would reset his brain. It didn’t.

“From now on. For a long time. If you’ll let me. Or tolerate me. Either works.”

There. He said it.

And it sounded exactly as awkward as he’d feared. Not charming. Not smooth like earlier or all the other times it almost spilled from his lips. Just him, rambling and way too warm in the face.

Yn didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at him, lips parted slightly—then let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Soft and fond.

“The way you—I mean,” she said, cheeks tinting pink as her gaze dropped to their hands, “that was… barely coherent.”

He opened his mouth, about to defend himself, but she squeezed his hand before he could.

“But I liked it,” she added, glancing up again. “Life stuff with you sounds great.”

That made him smile—relieved, crooked, a little breathless.

His hands found her cheeks, thumbs grazing the soft curves under her eyes. And when she leaned into the touch, something in his chest went loose. 

“I love you,” he murmured.

She blinked up at him, eyes shining. Slowly, her hands came up, pressing to his chest, sliding up until they curled around his neck. Her fingers brushed the back of his nape, gentle and a little unsure, like she was mapping him for the first time.

“I love you too.”

He shivered under her touch, from the weight of her words, from everything.

God, he was so far gone for her.

Then she tilted her head, lips quirking up. “So… is this the part where we kiss? Because I’m kind of dying over here.”

He laughed, half-choked, and tugged her in. “Yeah.”

But right before their lips could meet, he pulled back slightly and fumbled into his pocket.

Her brows lifted. “You’re kidding.”

He held up his phone, switched it to silent, and shot her a look. “I’m not getting interrupted twice in one night.”

She laughed, her forehead brushing his.

Tucking the phone away, he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other still cradling her cheek. “I’m not going to hold back, okay?” he whispered.

“Tsukishima! Just go for it already.”

He grinned and, finally, leaned in. 

It tasted like strawberries. 

But more than that, it tasted like something he’d been quietly craving for a long, long time.

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

💚Download🤍 (Patreon - Free)

Ms. @obigem and I decided to take time out of our busy yapping schedule to see to it that our sim men weren't left out!

OBi and I talked about what her relatives would wear to formal events and had an amazing time looking at traditional inspo, as well as modern fashion as we created this set.

We really hope that you get as much fun out of it as we had creating it!

(Also apologies for the weird number, but there was a really specific blue shade I wanted 😤)

Items and details under the cut:

Eze Kaftan V1 - A formal kaftan with metallic details and various plain and ankara print options.

Eze Kaftan V2 - Same Eze Kaftan, but with a luxe metallic pattern!

 Ezeudo Jacket V1 - Asymmetric suit jacket with various plain and ankara swatches.

 Ezeudo Jacket V2 - The Ezeudo jacket in a metallic patterned finish!

Ezeudo Pants - Plain, fitted suit pants to go with the Ezeudo jackets.

Osi Cap V1 - A traditional formal wool cap available in several swatches to elevate any outfit!

Osi Cap V2 - The Osi cap with a little extra height...to elevate your look even further?

 Obi Cap - An embroidered, formal cap, perfect for stealing the show.

Anwu Studs - Gem studs that will add polish to your look.

💚This is part of The Naija Collection🤍

[greekmythcomix]

(In response to @aeide saying they bought the Persephone print as leggings, in case those tags don’t who up above!)

No way you bought the leggings?! Thank you, I bet you look amazing 😁

Ok fun story about the print that Persephone is wearing:

TL/DR: my print is in a museum for a good cause!

I wanted Persephone’s dress to be really sweet and pretty but have a devastating print (because of course she would shop at Disturbia), so I made a really simple repeating pattern of skulls and pomegranates in a cross-cross, and put a semi-transparent layer of darkness over it. Then I just filled the whole dress - it reminded me of old Tintin comics where when he was wearing a check shirt the pattern was just perfect in the shape regardless of what way the figure was turning (ie: lazy!) The drawing was posted for ClassicsTober ‘22 and immediately a few people asked for the pattern, so I put it on my Redbubble, on both light and dark versions.

Later I got a DM from Karl Anthony Mercer, who was in the process of curating a case of objects looking at autism and neurodiversity in Colchester Museum's collections, of which there were basically none - literally 2 out of 200,000. So, being autistic himself, and working for CuratingForChange, and not having time for a big community celebration to develop an exhibit, they had decided to get Karl to put some of his own stuff in a case instead to start a discussion exhibit, and one of those things was a particular scarf, and did I mind if it went in?…

The scarf with Persephone’s Print on it of course went into the museum display. You don’t say no to that. Especially as this is how Karl described his reasons for wanting it in:

I wanted to include the pomegranate-skull scarf because thematically I want this case to be a katabasis of sorts - autistic lives, once hidden in the underworld, will be brought back to life and I think Persephone is a fantastic representation for that. She was not taken to the underworld of her own will, after all!

The display was called Un/Masked, looking at the absence of autistic and neurodiverse heritage in museums. And where was the display? Colchester Castle. Which was built on the foundations of the Roman Temple to Claudius, burned by Boudicca. Be still my heart.

And that’s how, very unexpectedly, a very unexpected piece of my work ended up in a freaking museum!! ❤️

Why I couldn’t possibly say no: I’m a member of Asterion, a group recently set up by neurodiverse Classicists to celebrate Neurodiversity in Classics. We aim to provide support, resources, and community.

Come see us at the link below:

You can find out more about Curating For Change here:

Persephone and Demeter meet for coffee.

(Originally for #Classicstober)

[buzzingroyalty]

how to grub your karkat

or you can use this for any other plush or if you wanna make a whole new plush entirely or whatever

disclaimer im not a professional in any sense of the word and theres anything technical im doing wrong or you think you can do it better by all means dont hold back

Things you’ll need

sewing machine unless youre really dedicated but doing it by hand is gonna be an agonizing feat i promise. I just used a straight stitch for everything

Fabrics: for the main body i suggest a minky or something soft, for the inner lining something in the same color as the main body and ideally with some stretch, and anything black for the legs. Less than a yard of each will do

if youre using minky or anything furry get a lint roller. Trust me

stuffing, i used polyfil

threads that match your fabrics

good fabric scissors

sewing needle for hand sewing/fixes

karkat plush (optional)

Heres the pattern i came up with! They are numbered for your convenience and pieces with the same numbers are going to be part of the same row of segments. cut everything out on the black lines (Make sure when you’re printing to fit the image to the page size.) on the left we have the belly pieces, the right is the main body, and we have the foot in between

Im using a relatively thin minky fabric, im sure you can use whatever but something with some fluffiness kinda helps to mask any imperfections in the sewing. When drawing out your patterns keep in mind what direction your fibers settle in and try to keep it consistent

On the wrong side of the fabric measure out at least a half inch seam allowance around each piece of the pattern, i used a centimeter and that worked but had me sweatin a bit.

For the main body pieces fold your fabric in half before you cut so you can have 2 of each segment that are mirrored to each other, i also extended all of the #1 pieces an additional centimeter/half inch at the top so we can fold them over at the very end. I highly suggest numbering the insides of all the cut pieces, especially in a way where you will remember what direction they are each meant to sit

After you’ve numbered all your pieces, set them aside and start making your feet!

Each of the 6 legs is made of two pieces, but i because i only had a swatch of the black minky i made up for the rest with some random black scrap fabric from an old project. Try to keep your fabric consistent if you can lol

I didnt give these pieces any more seam allowance on the fabric but i recommend adding a centimeter or half inch to the base of it to extend the length and have some more wiggle room

like so

Instead of cutting out 12 individual pieces and struggling to stitch them all together i started with 6, then pinning each piece real tight with the right/furry side down onto my secondary fabric, and slowly stitching around the shape real close to the edges- DO NOT CLOSE THE FLAT SIDE as we are going to stuff the feet through here

Now cut the shape out of the fabric and repeat till you have 6 feet

Now flip those bad boys inside out, stuff up, and if you wanna you can match them to their best pairs

now grab a pair of feeties and your #1 pieces and line them up, in this picture my belly #1 piece is shorter bc i forgot to add the extra centimeter and i recut that once i realized. Line those sides up with the right/furry parts touching and with the feet in between, flip it around to make sure everything's sitting the way you want it

Note. i didnt realize until later but i sewed my feet in upside down. save yourself the time it takes to fix it and dont make the same mistake

Straight stitch these layers together and repeat with the next two segments our good friends #2 & #3

Repeat this for the #2 and #3 sections but NOT THE #4, that part doesnt need feet! just line those edges up right/furry sides together and sew

the secret to the squish of the suit is making this inner lining from another fabric and stuffing it! I used what i had leftover from a stretchy red fabric for a kanaya skirt. For this we need to make a new pattern for each section, making sure it follows the curve of the round edge but the piece itself is shorter, almost like youre removing the seam allowance you added. Mine is a centimeter shorter on the top and on the bottom and reaches to the middle

Make one of these for each numbered segment,you only need to make half the pattern and you can fold your fabric in half on a crease and you end up with one symmetrical piece (bars)

Now you need to pin these pieces right on top of the wrong side of your numbered furry sections and line up the straight edges like so (disclaimer for LOTS OF SCARY NEEDLES !!)

Admittedly i didnt estimate how long these pieces needed to be very accurately and overshot it a bit, if you start pinning it from the middle and continue outwards on either side thatll ensure its not too lose and you can cut off any excess after

The only exception is piece #1, if you recall we gave this #1 section extra seam allowance. This is so we can sew down that excess at the neck later and hide any of the inside that might show once its all put together. Do not connect the top edge to the inner lining! Since i added an extra centimeter earlier im gonna leave that hanging and pin + sew down the inner lining a centimeter lower than the top edge. LEAVE THE CURVED EDGES OPEN! DONT SEW THEM TOGETHER! those stay open to stuff

Straight stitch the lined up edges together

Now you have all these skinned pieces of little freak and we need to connect all these segments together making sure to sew UNDER the existing stitches so we dont see those on the outside when its all put together

Inside looks like a bit of a mess but thats fine bc its not the part that matters

Now stuff it! you might need a stick or pencil or something long and thin to get stuffing into the middle bits

Now thats its stuffed you can finally close those curved edges. Try not to sew over a thick mound of stuffing, push it in a little further to give yourself some space and you can fluff it back out after everythings closed. I cut off that excess lining fabric after sewing

Ough… they filleted my boy…

Finally, match up all the edges and lines and HAND SEW them right sides together. You will destroy your machine trying to work around that stuffing i promise. You also have an excuse to get up from your work desk and sew on a couch or smth. I used a standard backstitch for a tight finish and again, make sure you sew under any existing stitches so they arent visible on the outside!

Speaking of the outside, once you stitch everything together you can very gently flip this sucker inside out

This is @hatamonu’s cat Cocaina, aka Coco. Her perfectly square figure made it into my grub files somehow so shes essential to the tutorial

Check the fit and all thats left to do is roughly baste stitch down that excess neck fabric onto the stuffed lining and youre set! I gave the thread slight tugs as i went to tighten the opening a bit put dont tighten it too much

tadaaaaa

It fits pretty snug but starts to slip a bit with motion. Heres a bounce test

 If you do shake your baby make sure to safety pin the plush to the suit so he doesnt prematurely shed his exosekeleton

Now spread that baby fever and show your baby to the world

pics from the ALA 2025 homestuck meetup and supplied by para.dox.cos

Tysm for coming along this ride with me especially if you followed the prototype journey on twitter, much thanks to my more sewing savvy friend for the solution to my grub dilemma and for helping me design and build my dolorosa cosplay <3 much love and hopefully many more homestuck cosplays and meetups to come in the future!

[bunny-jpeg]

I'm so excited for those new prompts!! Can i get a nacho dip and one hot cocoa with oscar piastri?

bakery menu - halloween menu

the halloween menu is available until nov. 2nd! so get those orders in! thank you to those who have submitted so far. doing something a little festive has been a lot of fun! so thank you!

nacho dip: "seeing you with those kids makes me want one." + hot cocoa: gentle/soft sex served by oscar piastri (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, established relationship, gentle sex, (slight) breeding kink, loving!oscar

you loved your boyfriend, oscar. there was something about him that just made you feel on cloud nine. even with your massively busy schedules, you still felt loved. like when he sent you flowers to your shared apartment and a promise of dinner when he returned. or how he'd get you a fridge magnet from every city on the race calendar.

oscar was a caring significant other. but something stirred in your core when you saw him with the kids in mexico city right before halloween. he was all smiles and hi-fives with the kids, speaking to them in what spanish he knew. but regardless he was still a joy to be around.

to see oscar with these kids, most of them dressed up for the event, it made you think about the future. a future with oscar. you knew about the lacy number in your suitcase and while that was for a pleasurable evening. the objective of your evening had changed.

the lingerie was appropriate for the season. it wasn't anything too fancy, or expensive. but you liked how it all fit your curves. they were boy shorts with bats and pumpkins printed on them paired with a bra that akin to a sports bra. and you paired it with a black silky robe.

you were seated on the bed as you waited for oscar to get out of the shower. you traced lazy patterns across the bed spread as you waited. you shifted in your spot a little and felt heat in your cheeks. the feeling was overwhelming. the anticipation for what was to come excited you greatly.

it was always fun to make love to oscar. he was the kind of lover that made your head spin. you had been with a few partners in your life, but none gave you the earth shattering orgasms that oscar gave you. for such a ray of sunshine, he could easily rock your world.

he soon entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist. he caught the sight of you and his eyes went wide. there was his beloved girlfriend, his angel incarnate. dressed in orange and black. he broke into a smile, "what is this? is this for me?"

you giggled and let the shoulders of the robe slip off of you. you exposed more of your body to him, "no, no. it's just for me, all for me."

oscar chuckled as he got closer. the towel was loose around his waist. he could feel his cock twitch under it. you were beautiful, even if the lingerie was a little cheesy. he liked cheesy, sex and intimacy didn't have to be so serious. it was meant to be fun.

"so what is this about?" he asked.

you replied, "originally, i wanted us to have a fun little night since we'll be busy for halloween. but, instead seeing you with those kids makes me want one."

oscar's eyebrows raised for a moment as he asked, "a baby? well. i guess i couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else." he laughed, "but i want to go gentle. no need to hurt ourselves trying to make a baby."

he dropped the towel and went over to you. he admired your beauty for a moment. his hungry gaze lingered on your form as he looked down at you.

you blushed a little big and looked away for a moment before oscar took you by the face to make you look at him. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips before he got into bed with you. he laid you out under him, chest to chest as he deeply kisses you.

soon your lingerie was on the floor, not ripped or torn. oscar wanted you wear it for next halloween. the thought made him smile against you. the taste of your lips felt like heaven and it made his heart sing. you were beyond amazing. beyond beautiful. he loved you so very much. you were perfect for him in every way.

his hands roamed your sides as he kissed you. it made you giggle and squirm. his heart hammered in his chest as his touches on you. he loved feeling you up. when he pulled away, he got properly between your legs and with a little help, he slipped his cock into you.

your back arched a little bit and you tensed up for a moment when you felt his cock inside of you. you made a soft noise that was music to your lover's ears.

"such a beautiful woman." he said with love in his tone. he loved the sight of you under him. you were beautiful. his words rung through as he moved against you. he was awfully rough, he never wanted to be. he loved you too much to treat you poorly.

sex between the two of you was meant to be fun and oscar had the most when there was consent, a lot of consent. he wanted to know that he made you feel good. that was his objective.

"i love you." you said to him softly as you shifted a little bit under him. he pressed into you perfectly. chest to chest as he rubbed himself up against you.

"i love you too." he moaned as he continued to move against you. his thrusts were slow with enough force that it made your toes curl. he adored you. you felt amazing under him, the pleasure coursed through his body the further he made love to you,

he thought about all your times together, every time he was able to make you easily orgasm. how he could make you feel on cloud nine. how he could pleasure you in such ways that it was a joy to make your toes curl with hot warmth coursing through your body.

you swallowed back the heat and squirmed a little under him. and soon oscar was holding onto your hands as he moved against you. he thrusted against you. you two felt amazing. there was a dreamy look in oscar's eyes as he moved against you.

"so pretty." he groaned.

you clutched his hands and leaned in to his face to press a hot kiss against his lips. he moaned a little bit and almost melted against you. he groaned against your kisses and tried to meet his pace. when you broke the kiss you panted, "please, ah, oscar. baby. i love you."

"i love you too. tell me you want it." he groaned.

you held onto him tightly, your fingers interlaced with his, "please, oscar. i want you. i want you always. i want to have a family with you." the bed shifted a little under your movements and your words only turned your boyfriend on greatly.

there was something about you that was infectious. you drove him wild, especially when he was making you feel good. he continued to move against you, he knew that he was getting closer to climax.

"fuck, i love you."

"i love you too." you giggled. you held onto his hands tighter, "you're amazing, the best boyfriend ever. and you'll be an amazing father too." you groaned and arched your back. but you were firmly pressed to him. the kisses grew hungrier the more you two moved.

it didn't take long for the pleasure to course through you. and it didn't take long for it to all come to a head. you kissed your lover once more, the future father of your children. he'd make a perfect father.

you came around his cock, and oscar finished inside of you while the two of you kissed deeply. you whined against his lips and he held onto you tightly.

"fuck." you groaned.

he replied with a quiet, "i love you." he laid out beside you. he pulled you into a tight hug and kissed your face lovingly. he loved you so much and he had new confidence for the race weekend. you two stayed tangled up in one another.

you said, "if you do well tomorrow, we can try for twins." you took him by the jaw and kissed his cheeks. he shuddered against you lovingly. you said that like a promise.

by the end of the season, oscar was curled up in bed with you back home and already speaking to your barely there bump. you weren't even three months pregnant. your child was still a blob, but oscar loved them all the same. just as he loved you <3

[servicpop]

CURRENTLY VIEWING : slightly obsessive deliquent oc x good student male!reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤbandaging up your (almost) bf adrien after a bad fight!

✙ warnings — mention of violence / blood / slight homophobia / slight suggestions of stalking or obsession

notes ,, first actual writing post... hope you guys like it "

Adrien and you lived two worlds. You were a model student, perfect in every way, whereas Adrien was nothing but a deliquent who skipped all his classes and failed all of his subjects (except for sports). If you two were so different, how did you end up together?

It started with an exchange of glances when you both started your first year of being a senior, somehow your presence was never known by Adrien until that one glance turned into never ending eye-contact, briefly smiling at eachother as you two met eyes from across the courtyard. His heart felt like it was about to crumble whenever you smiled at him. Your lips, your perfectly imperfect teeth shining at him. He had definitely fallen for you.

But how would his friends feel if they knew he was crushing on another guy?

As much as he wanted to hide it he couldn't. Everytime he went home and sat down in his chair, he would be welcomed with your face in the form of printed pictures stored in his top drawer. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it, you were so attractive you reeled him in like a fish. But somehow. Somehow. You and him talked more and more, exchanged numbers, hung out a few times and even brushed hands once! Adrien for sure didn't wash his hand after that. You weren't confirmed to be dating but it sure seemed like it.

And that was the start of Adrien's fall for you.

It was around 5:00pm, the sun still shining brightly but casted a slight orange hue into the empty council room, indicating that sunset would near. You were currently in said room, sorting the books, cleaning the tables, finishing off the work your teachers assigned you because you were such a good student. Yeah it was nice for them to rely on you but to be honest, all you wanted to do was go home but alas you couldn't.

Almost as if the universe pitied your unbearable boredom, the door to the council room clicked opened. At first you thought it was a teacher, but turning around you met the deep eyes of Adrien. His soulless eyes bore into yours, his knuckles dripping with blood as he stumbled into the room, almost collapsing on the couch.

"Got into another fight," He grumbled, his deep sultry voice reverberated in the room. Shit, his voice was hot. Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly rushed over to him, viewing his bloody and bruised knuckles. It looked bad. Probably from beating the shit out of someone but you wouldn't question it. After some rummaging around you finally found the first aid kit, clicking the white box open before kneeling down infront of Adrien, a small smirk plastered his face.

"You don't have to you know? I just wanted—" Adrien's voice was cut out by a sharp hiss as you applied the alcohol to his wounds.

"Let me be a good friend to you."

Ooh... friend? That hit Adrien straight to the gut

"I just wanted company."

"Then your not allowed to hold my hand with those bloody knuckles."

"..."

"please bandage my fingers."

A wholehearted chuckle left your throat as you fished out the puppy patterned bandages around his knuckles, making sure you kissed each and every knuckles after. Just to make sure that there was no lingering pain of course, not because you two were had something for eachother or anything. You looked up at Adrien to see a small smile on his face, he was always so serious looking and whenever he smiled it was usually the shit eating grin type of smile. You had only really grown closer with him for a few weeks now so... why were you already hooked on him?

"You lost in thought?" He asked, snapping you out of your little trance. You shook your head, and he brought your chin up to meet his in a light kiss, his calloused fingertips gripping your chin lightly while his other hand found solace in your own. It was something straight out of a romance movie, his warm fingers against yours, his lips against your soft ones in such a gentle kiss. You never knew deliquents could be this gentle. Pulling away you wiped your lips and tugged your hands from Adrien's. You weren't dating him. You can't do this. You turned your head a pout adorned your lips, "Don't just casually kiss me," you huffed.

"But I know you liked it." Adrien hummed.

extra notes ,, I didn't have a full goal for what relationship reader and Adrien would have but i really liked the enemies to lovers sort of denial trope. I also experimented with the colour coding of the text, I find it easier to identify when they're speaking but let me know your preferences! I'm a bit nervous posting this since its my first time ever posting on tumblr but yeah! Also no smut yet, still getting warmed up you know

[yenhan]

"Study session with the Lads"

Thoughts on TF141 & International student neighbor

Part One - Next - Masterlist

a/n: f!reader

Synopsis: You'll ace the next exam, hopefully.

C’mon over tomorrow, we’ll help you prep for that exam. P.S. You can’t refuse, Captain’s orders.

Most people would think Johnny gave you his number first, being the hopeless flirt he was. But no, it was Kyle. Unlike his fellow former sergeant, Gaz was subtler, able to hide his true intentions behind easy smiles and clever banter. No less effective, mind you.

Then again, the whole 'old men adopting a stranded student' relationship was weird. A detail for your therapist next session, surely. Were you supposed to be worried? Get your head checked? Probably. Creating a found family with three British men and a hyperactive Scot wasn’t exactly listed under “Common Expat Experiences.”

Back to the present: you left Kyle’s message on read for half a second before sending a slightly-too-eager—

Of course!

You imagined a light revision, a few exercises, a cup of tea brewed by Simon just the way you liked, perhaps Soap dramatically imitating phonetic symbols to distract you from spiraling over your performance anxiety.

Certainly not this.

At exactly 1700 hours, you knocked on their door clutching your battered copy of Teaching English as a Foreign Language for Dummies and a highlighter that had lost the will to live halfway through your last grammar workshop.

“Highlight only the important parts,” your brother used to say. Sure. But what if everything was important?

The living room looked like a war zone… but not a gross, sock-strewn bachelor disaster. No, this was tactical mayhem. Soap’s footprints crisscrossed the carpet in suspicious patterns.

Your study notes had been printed, laminated, and tacked onto a corkboard. Snacks were stacked on the coffee table like sandbags. A flipchart had been set up beside the telly. Someone had written across it in bold, underlined red: OPERATION: ACE THE PAST PERFECT.

Price looked up from the kitchen, a mug in hand. “No pressure, kiddo. Just your entire teaching career.”

Ghost, leaning against the wall, nodded solemnly. “We’ve got biscuits.” Was that supposed to help?

Gaz shuffled a stack of index cards, color-coded with terrifying precision. “Who’s quizzing her first on the difference between the present simple and the present perfect?”

“Define the unlawful killing of a human being without malice!” Soap barked like a drill sergeant. You gaped at him. Why was he wearing a peaked military cap? It was even worse than John's boonie hat.

“Wrong subject, Johnny,” Price called from the kitchen. “We’re not teaching criminal interrogation tactics, it’s English grammar.”

“Aye, but keeps her sharp, doesnae it?”

You sat gingerly on the couch between Gaz and a mountain of flashcards. “I... appreciate the effort, truly. But, uh, how did you get my notes?”

And was that your favorite set of pastel pens peeking out of John’s pocket?

“Found them last week. Binder fell down the stairs. Took the liberty of reorganizin’ ‘em by theme.” Ghost’s voice came from somewhere dark and ominous.

“You color-coded grammar topics?” You squeaked.

“Course I did. I’m not a monster. Stuck to your precious Pinterest palette, too.”

Well… You couldn’t exactly argue with that.

The first twenty minutes went smoothly.

Gaz walked you through the major language acquisition theories — Krashen, Vygotsky, yada yada — with flashcards that had doodles of confused stick-figure students on the back. Price explained different classroom management styles like he was giving a battlefield briefing: “Adapt to your environment. Don’t lose command of the room.”

You nodded dutifully, and sometimes got rewarded with a brief, proud head pat.

Then Soap made his move.

“Right! I’ve built a memory palace,” he announced.

“A what.”

“Memory technique! Visualization! Top-tier stuff!” He dragged you into the hallway, where he had drawn on the walls with dry-erase markers. You weren’t hallucinating.

“See here?” He pointed at a doodle of a dragon labeled ‘Past Tense Pete’.

“This beastie guards all irregular verbs. Ye’ve gotta slay him with correct conjugations!”

“What is happening?!” You shrieked, staring in horror at the doodle of an adverbial goblin. John, your knight in shining mutton chops, came to your rescue.

“She asked for help revising!” Soap protested.

“I asked for basic revision, not a full Dungeons and Dragons campaign!”

You pointed dramatically at Johnny, ready to throw him under the bus called ‘Captain Price.’

While Price and Soap bickered about the ethical limits of creative teaching aids, Gaz slipped a flashcard into your hand... CONDITIONALS: First vs. Second – Remember: If I win the lottery, I will freak out. If I won the lottery, I would freak out.

Genius? Madness? Hard to tell.

Then Ghost, quietly but ruthlessly, dragged a chair into the center of the room.

“Quiz time. No fluff. Answer fast, or you owe me a push-up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not doing push-ups over auxiliary verbs.”

“Then don’t get them wrong.”

And he began rapid-firing questions: “What’s the communicative approach? How many types of conditional sentences? Example of a weak modal verb?”

You answered, getting most of them right. You were still terrified.

And then, from the kitchen: “QUIZ TIME’S OVER, I MADE A POWERPOINT!” The Scot roared.

—

At some point, you were cross-legged on the carpet, biscuit crumbs on your notes, explaining the importance of student talking time versus teacher talking time while they all nodded proudly like awkward but loving uncles.

“You’ll smash it,” The captain finally said, clapping a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“If not,” Soap winked, “we’ll sneak into the university database and ‘fix’ it.”

“Please don’t,” you whimpered.

As you packed your things, Ghost quietly handed you a neat stack of flashcards. “Keep these. I made extra copies.”

You flipped through them: clear, minimalist, perfect. You smiled. “Thanks, Batman.”

His eyes crinkled behind the mask. “You’re welcome, Robin.”

Your notes had never been clearer. Your brain, however, felt flash-banged by a PowerPoint titled “How to Conquer the Passive Voice Like a Spartan.”

You would never forget the dragon guarding irregular verbs.

[philcon-programming]

Philcon 2024!

Do you love Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror? Are you a Writer, a Gamer, a Costumer, or a Filker? Are you looking for a weekend of distraction in your life? If you’re in the vicinity of Philadelphia- or more specifically, Cherry Hill, New Jersey- there’s an event coming up on November 22 – 24, 2024 that we’d love for you to come check out. If you aren’t already familiar with PHILCON, here’s what you should know: * We started out as a literary-centric SF convention in 1936, but have grown to embrace all mediums of storytelling (movies, television, comics, podcasts, etc) as well as expanding to cover the Fantasy and Horror genres. Most of our participants are authors, and there will be Readings by them and Autograph sessions all throughout the weekend, in addition to their participation on discussion panels. * While many of our Literary panels are about SF, Fantasy, or Horror topics in general, we also have an emphasis on panels discussing the craft side and business sides of writing, for those looking to develop as authors. * One of our content tracks for the weekend is dedicated to Science & Technology itself, not just how it is used in fiction. * We will be screening several movies over the weekend, and Anime will also be shown in our Anime & Animation room at certain times. * There will be Workshops and Demos for Costuming (including "Fabric Manipulation", "How to Make Foam Armor", "Make-up for The Stage", and "A Pox on Patterns!") and Art (including "Using Alcohol Inks", "Block Printing With Your Own Designs", "How to Make A Controlled Color Palette", and "Making Wire-Wrapped Jewelry"), and if you’ve got an outfit you made that you’d like to show off on stage, we’ve got a yearly Costume Contest. * If you are a Filker- or just enjoy listening to other people sing and play music- Philcon has a room dedicated Filk room, and this year’s Musical Guest of Honor is Cecilia Eng. As Cecilia is not often on the east coast, if you’d like to see her play in person, now is an excellent change to do so without flying to the other side of the country. Lynn Gold, another west-coast Filker, will also be joining us this year. There are also Concerts scheduled for Sirens & Liars, Half a Slime Devil, Brenda and Chuck Shaffer-Shiring, and Sara Henya. * Since the Gaming track moved from an upstairs suite to the “Gallery” room on the first floor, it’s had the literal room to expand the number of games it can run, and we’ve got a bevy of them on the schedule for 2024, as well as a bank of games for you to choose from during Open Gaming hours. There's also a LARP Workshop Series being run by Spectacle INK. * Our Artist Guests of Honor for 2024 are Gina Matarazzo and Matthew Stewart. Each will be giving a presentation on our Main Stage on Saturday afternoon, as well as having their art displayed in our Art Show. * Our Principal Speaker for 2024 is MAX GLADSTONE, and we also have Nghi Vo as our Special Guest. Both will be doing Readings, Autograph Sessions, panels, and a main stage Q&A session. An interactive version of our schedule can be found HERE. While a simplified, static overview, organized by track, can be found HERE. Our LinkTree can be found HERE. We would especially value your support this year, as Philcon’s Covid-19 policy in previous years (which required both mandatory masking and proof of vaccination in an attempt to avoid becoming a super-spreader event as several other conventions had) has led to a slow but noticeable decline in attendance. While masking in public spaces is still heavily encouraged, neither proof of vaccination nor masking are required to attend the convention in 2024. We’d love your help in making this year a success, so that we’re in a good position to bring you all something really fantastic for our upcoming 90th anniversary. We’d also love to give you a great weekend right now, for reasons I doubt we need to explain. Here’s to surviving the next few years! ~ Lynati Head of Programming, Philcon 2024

[fashionsfromhistory]

Waistcoat

c.1620-1625

England

The high waistline and narrow sleeves, open at the front seam, are characteristic of women's waistcoats of the early 1620s. The blackwork embroidery is of exquisite quality and is worked in a continuous pattern throughout the body of the garment. A group of interlocking curling stems enhanced with a garden of roses, rosebuds, peapods, oak leaves, acorns, pansy and pomegranates, with wasps, butterflies and birds, make up the embroidery design. The extremely fine speckling stitches create the shaded effect of a woodblock print. This style of blackwork is typical of the early seventeenth-century and thought to have been inspired by the designs from woodblock prints that the embroiderers were using. The waistcoat is unlined and embellished with an insertion of bobbin lace in black and white linen at the back of each sleeve, and a edging of bobbin lace in the same colours.

The Victoria & Albert (Accession number: T.4-1935)

[mythrilthread]

Пищевая цепь by nnalara

I decided to print this 6-parter original story as six A6 volume rather than making a chonky A5.

The story is set in a vampire dominated society, and deals with a lot of heavy topics, so I went with a pretty dramatic aesthetic.

🩸 The insides feature assorted ink splatters printed on red endpapers, a title spread with a bloody and totalitarian vibe, and blood drops on the right margins that get lower from volume to volume.

🩸 The covers are gorgeous red linen with the design printed on via my trusty inkjet printer. This is my second attempt at this technique and I think I’m getting the hang of it. I’m very happy with how the design lines up on the spines!

🩸 Another fun feature are randomly generated endband patterns. Basically, I rolled a d4 every time I changes colors to determine the number of wraps.

🩸 The story/series is called The Food Chain, so I foiled a broken chain on the slipcase. Inside it’s covered with glossy wrapping paper (which I do not recommend using but in this case the patter of rope hearts was just too good to pass up on).