#sher sews

[adoodleintime]

I made him a little outfit :)

[vash-in-the-void]

theres something greatly ironic in the fact im using surgical tools to put together a rosary for my wolfwood doll

and something greatly blasphemous in the fact i took apart my old rosary to do it

i feel like victor frankenstein creating his creature - add bit of medical trauma, sprinkle in some catholic blasphemy, and a bit of dramatic irony to top it all off

[the-kr8tor]

Starlight and Seafoam

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, CW food mentions, TW death, CW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>> CHAPTER 11

The street is bustling and teeming with people as you pay for the new mortar and pestle that you've been saving for a long time. The coins clink on the counter as you drop it on the wood. You hate to see your hard earned money go but you're glad that you have your very own mortar and pestle in exchange.

“Careful now it's heavy.” The old shopkeeper smiles at you.

“I've got it, thank you!” You heave the heavy stone in your small arms, waddling towards the door, struggling to open it with both arms occupied, a kind gentleman opens it for you and you smile politely, your mother didn't raise you to be rude after all. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome.” The stranger says with a gruff voice, his large frame casts a shadow over you, fancy clothes making you gawk. Gold threads sewed into the finest cloth. His brown eyes only spares you a quick once over, tufts of chestnut hair flowing in the breeze, chiseled face turning towards the shopkeeper.

Walking out of the store, the door shuts closed behind you. Eyes still glued to the rich man, someone taps you on your shoulder.

“Careful, kid, that one can and will buy you if you don't stop gawking.” Sherry, an old neighbor of yours warns you. Her husband shushes her, eyes rolling at her gossiping. “Don't you shush me, Mickey, I'm right y’know!”

“The bloke's right there, love!” Mickey whisper shouts, he turns towards a customer, scowl disappearing, smiling politely over the vegetable stand.

You notice some people whisper too, from the butcher across the street to the florist on your right. Their main topic is the mysterious rich man in the store you just left.

Sherry clicks her tongue, slyly beckoning you over, whispering close in your ear. She smells of lettuce and cigars.

“Listen, girl,” you nod, trusting the adult. “you better get home ‘cause word around town is that wanker right there is a skin trader.” She says the word with malice. “See his fancy dancy clothes? He got ‘em from selling children like yourself.”

“What's a skin trader?” You ask, eyes wide and concerned. The mortar and pestle gets heavier in your arms.

“Didn't dear old mum warn you about ‘em?”

“Stop scaring the poor child, Sher.” her husband warns, busy with a line of customers while his wife gossips with a thirteen year old.

“This ‘ere is a private conversation, Mickey!” She turns back towards you, “Jus’ be careful, kiddo. I like you, you've got ‘em magic hands with them herbs. I don't want you gettin' sold off to a noble house, yeah?” you nod, “Stay away from him and you'll be good.” Shrugging, she pats your head.

“I don't think my mum would sell me.” You say with a small voice, fingers grazing over your necklace that's tucked under your blouse.

She scoffs, “tell that to little John, he was sold off for a bag of coins a few days ago.”

“Sher.” Mickey warns as your blood runs cold.

You know John, you've played with him a few times even though he runs his mouth like a sailor. Now you know why you haven't seen him around town. Nerves alight, you stay away from the shop's door.

Home calls for you, but you still have other errands to run.

“I've gotta go, thank you, Sherry.” You start to walk away with heavy strides and worry written on your face. She won't do that right? You thought. She loves me like her own, she can't— won't do that to me.

Mickey calls you back, “oh Y/N, grab a few of these for you and your mum, yeah? I know they're your favourite.” he smiles, putting a handful of cherry tomatoes inside the mortar.

“Thank you!” You smile, “It's her favourite too!”

“Aye, I know.”

His wife slaps him upside the head, “the fuck you mean ‘you know?’”

You leave before you get stuck in the middle of their argument. In your peripheral, you see the well dressed man leave the store without buying anything, he walks over to Sherry and Mickey. You don't stay long to hear their conversation.

—

Despite hurrying home, you end up walking towards the cabin with the sun already setting. Leaves crunch under your foot as you yawn, but your smile stays on your lips, happy enough that you have your newly purchased instrument in your arms, even though it's extremely heavy combined with the old canvas bags on your shoulder full of supplies you and your mother needed for the rest of the month.

Finally seeing the small cabin makes you weary, wanting to lay down in bed until she calls you for supper. Based on the smoke billowing from the chimney, you guess she already started cooking for dinner.

The heavy door creaks open as you push it open with your shoulder. “Mum, Mickey gave us cherry tomatoes! And you can't believe what I just heard—”

You freeze in the doorway, your mortar and pestle falls in your arms, clanging loudly on the wooden floor, it splits in half as the cherry tomatoes tumbles out of the mortar.

There he stands, the same well dressed man handing your guardian that you call mother, loved like your own mother, hugged like your own mother a bag of coins. They both pause in their movements.

The man cages you with his stare, an unreadable expression on his face, hazel eyes reflecting the fire in the hearth, turning it to crimson.

“Mum?” you frown, tears brimming in your eyes.

She can't, she won't but she still did it.

“Y/N, this is—”

“How could you?” You ask, broken, heart left split in half like the mortar on the floor.

She looks at you apologetically, hand reaching towards you instinctively. Your home seems to suffocate you.

The man exhales sharply like he's in pain. “I passed by her a few hours ago. She looks just like—”

You don't let him finish.

Bolting away with only the clothes on your back and the spare change in your pockets, you run as fast as you can without looking back.

“Love?” Hobie says it tenderly that you thought he was calling for someone else, again. “Love?” He calls a bit louder.

Hobie wakes you up back to reality, back to his hold. His thumb wipes the tears sliding down your cheeks, eyes glazing over. He sits on the edge of the pool, the fire next to him warming his drenched clothes whilst you float with only his hand anchoring you near him.

“I'm sorry.” He whispers.

You twist around in the water, arms placed on the ground next to him, fingers twisting around the frayed thread on his pants. Chin resting atop your elbow, you watch the fire crackle and burn timber.

Hobie's hands slide over to your nape, caressing softly, hoping it would make up for what you've lived through. He knows it doesn't, but he still wants to try.

After minutes of silence and listening to your soft sniffles, the warmth of the afternoon sun and fire illuminating your deep frown and tear stained cheeks. Hobie breaks the quiet.

“MJ—” for a second you thought he's calling you by her name again, and it shatters your heart all over again. “She…she was—”

“Don't tell me just because I told you mine.” You look up at him with sadness underneath your eyes. “Only tell me when you're ready.” He nods, squeezing you in thanks. “I told you mine because someone else has to know, just in case—”

Hobie knits his eyebrows. “In case of what?”

In case I die, in case I decide to stay on the island and you leave. In case, in case. You have a lot of them but you spare him the heartache. He'd do the same. Someone has to know your story, that's how you can live forever, you remember her old words.

You shake your head, “nothing.”

He understands, “alright, keep your secrets.” flicking his eyes down, he observes your fingers mindlessly playing with its thread. “Stop tryin’ to take my trousers off, you can just ask.”

You chuckle softly, the first time he's heard it since you sobbed in his arms a week ago.

“You wish, Hobie.”

He dramatically clasps his hands together, eyes closed like he's in prayer. “I wish Y/N would just ask me to take my trousers off.” He laughs, almost not finishing his own joke because of it.

You pinch his leg, earning a yelp from the pirate captain. “You always say something that ruins the moment.”

“You were chuffed though”

“Mm-hmm.”

He looks towards the beach right in between the trees. “It's finally low tide. C’mon, scuttlebutt, I've got somethin' to show you.” He stands up, giving you a helping hand.

“I swear if it's another pair of crabs fucking—”

“That was one time, get up or we might get stranded.”

“We're already stranded.” he frowns at your words.

You've been down since the night you cried in his arms. He's worried, properly so, used to the embers in you, used to the loud banter, it's only right that he worries. You're on your last legs, everything that has happened managed to catch up to you, and for him it's crawling up his neck like a swarm of ants, biting and nipping at him. But you're the priority, his priority, if you fall then he would tumble harder, landing on his face with a sickening crunch.

He doesn't mind, not finding it cumbersome, because you'd do the same for him too. Or he hopes you will.

Hobie has tried everything to make you feel better, caught fish the right way even though it made his blood boil with impatience and frustration. Shot at a seagull with the last of his bullets for a variety of meat that only made you sob for how tough it was. Not even chocolate can brighten your mood nowadays. He even postponed leaving the island until you're back to your usual self. But he knows you two can't stay here forever or the ants might finally reach his head, gnawing at his cheek, eating through his skin. Or worse, kill the fire inside you.

As a last resort, he has thought of a plan, although it's a gamble, a toss of a coin, whether or not it might make you feel worse or better then it all depends on how he acts. Hope is his main choice of weapon yet hope can kill you too.

Hobie huffs, crouching down to face you. His voice is soft. “We're not stranded, we're leaving tomorrow but before we do I have somethin’ to show you.” You look up at him with a frown.

You don't even want to leave anymore. What's waiting for you once you get on land? Nothing, nothing's waiting for you, just more longing for a family you might have and you might never have. And you're frightened at what awaits you.

“Do you want to really leave?” You ask forlornly.

“As much as I love our days here surviving, we have to leave eventually.” He's not sure either, he wants to stay with you but he has responsibilities to the crew and you. He knows you can't stay here or he might never see the fire blaze inside you again. “All I know is my crew might be waitin’ for us, yeah? Now get up.”

Might and Us, the words are a mind killer for you recently.

“Y/N, I know it's hard,” he cups the back of your head. “But you have to stand up, could you do that for me? I'll walk with you the entire time, I promise.”

“What if—?”

“Don't, remember what I told you? Don't let ‘em kill you for the second time.” His eyes bore into you. “Please? C’mon you even got me sayin’ please.”

With an exhale, you manage to clasp your hand in his. Hobie lifts you up to your feet. Water sloshes as you leave the pool, clothes drenched, air making you shiver.

“You hang around me too much.” Hand still in his, he leads you out to the eastern side of the island. “You've become too polite.”

“Is that supposed to be horrible?” Hobie takes his hand away for a moment to grab his vest that's hanging from a branch. “You're not even that polite.” he drapes it over your shoulders, taking your hand back in his hand.

Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, his scent clinging to you like the heat on your cheeks. You put your arms inside, wearing his vest proudly like a medal. Laying your cheek on his shoulder, he laces his fingers around yours, squeezing it tenderly.

It all seems natural to you now, all the wordless affection and care that you both act upon. You know this won't last the moment you two leave the island. So you savour it as much as you can, letting all of it linger in your mind, tucking it away until you need to relive it along the way.

“I'm polite,” you walk on soft leaves to grainy sand, the low tide providing a way towards a smaller island with rocky terrain. The sun beams just behind it, it's a beautiful sight but Hobie's eyes are on you. “If I want to.”

“Sure you are.”

He moves your intertwined hands behind him so he could exchange it with his unoccupied hand, holding you close. Like a moth to a flame, you half embrace him, hand on top of his waist, grasping softly at his skin, memorizing every indent. His warmer hand rests atop yours, while the other has managed to snake around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Like broken pieces of a shattered glass, you fit together.

Hobie drowns in all of you. Your scent and touch leaving a mark on him, not like a scar that says that you've hurt him in the past, no, it's much more like a wound, a wound that he'd gladly let fester just so he can revisit you, revisit how you look like when you smile or cry, revisit how your soft palms touches his marred flesh.

He'd poke, prod and bleed the wound just to feel your touch again.

It's a lot harder to walk entangled together on the sandy bridge that connects your island to the other, but you two don't seem to mind as you leave your footprints on the sand.

“We have a couple of hours to explore before high tide or we'll get stuck here for an entire day.”

Would that be so bad?

You hum, “explore what?” Voice muffled by his shirt, he rubs softly at your upper arm, warming you.

“You'll see, I know you'll like it.”

“Great, you're gonna kill me.” You joke monotonously.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair. “I'd do it on our island instead.”

You chuckle, “how would you do it?”

“Stake to the heart.” You almost didn't understand him whilst his face is buried in your hair. “Classic.”

“Or you could choke me with the pomegranate seeds.”

“You'd like that, huh?” you can feel his smirk atop your head and you swear he kissed you faintly like a feather landing on you.

“I don't mind dying by fruit. Better yet, death by chocolate.”

“I'd mind, it would be hard to do that. Just think of the bloody logistics.” you two stop walking, finally reaching the tiny patch of land.

“For a second there I thought you didn't want me to die.” He leans away, hand still clasped in yours.

“That too.” You smile at him genuinely. Hobie enters the crevice in the wall, jagged rocks against his calloused hands. “C’mon then.” He holds his hand out to you and you don't hesitate to take it.

“Oh you're definitely gonna kill me.”

His laugh bounces around the cavern as you two shimmy towards the light at the far end of the tight alcove. Darkness soon envelops your vision. His piercings shine, acting as your guide. Like a ship to a lighthouse.

“It's a bit dark, Hobie.” Your voice echoes, concern laced in your voice. Not questioning your trust in him but concerned for what the dark could reveal to you.

“I've got you, just keep holding on to me, yeah?”

You sniff a reply, the dampness from the stone makes your nose itch from the musk.

Your feet splashes on a puddle, almost yelping at the sudden wetness. He holds on to you tighter while the rocks scratch at your back.

Hobie pauses before making way for you to pass through, making sure you don't trip on the way out.

The light almost blinds you as you finally make it to the end. Eyes adjusting, you squint at Hobie's gleeful face.

“We're here.”

Just behind Hobie is a massive ship, half of its hull is missing, mast broken, white sails fluttering aimlessly. There's something eerie about it, from how the sun's light filters through the cracks in the cavern ceiling, to the chipping golden paint that decorates the sides; barnacles have made a home on the broken bottom and crabs skittering away to its crevices. The sodden wood is inflated from the currents, wear and tear evident on its oak. It's gorgeously morbid when you think about the people who might've perished right there.

“Whose ship is this?” Your words echoes and bounces off the cave. You'd be lying if you didn't think it was the revenge for a split second, if not for its unfamiliar figure head, you'd collapse right on the spot.

“Don't know, I think It's navy but it doesn't have their flags so probably a merchant ship.” He comes closer to you, palm brushing over yours. “Look over there.” He glances behind you.

Turning around, you see several tally marks on the wall, an indication that someone survived. You glide your hands carefully over the marks, eyes curious and in disbelief.

“I counted, they were here for six months.”

You whirl around, “six? Fuck.”

“They got out though.”

You knit your brows. “How'd you know?”

“Come with me?”

“To the ship? It looks like it's about to collapse any second.”

“I tried climbing it, it's stable.” Hobie reaches for you, and again you take his hand.

“If I fall I'll blame you.”

“Thought you're good at climbin’?”

“Houses and trees, not a dilapidated ship that's more than ready to be scrapped. That thing looks older than us combined.”

“Fine, I'll climb up first and I'll help you up. Deal?”

“Christ, fine, but you owe me the rest of the chocolate.” you watch him climb a crate, effortlessly reaching the ledge of the deck, hauling himself up quicker than you thought. “Show off.” You say under your breath.

“Heard that.” Hobie peeks down, “the chocolate's all yours, now get your arse up here.” he crouches down, hands at the ready to help you up.

Copying his movements, you jump up, he immediately grabs you. Putting your foot up in a crack for leverage and with Hobie's help, you manage to get up onto the deck.

You sit next to him, stretching your wrists.

“See, not too bad, right?” The wood creaks right as he says it. “Maybe we shouldn't sit or stand on the same floor board.” He stands up but before giving you space to lessen the strain on the old wood, he helps you up once again.

“Thanks, I can stand up on my own y’know.” Yet you still take his hand.

“I know, I just don't like it when you're on the ground, you always look like you're about to bite my ankles.”

You laugh and he smiles triumphantly. The sound echoes, it reminds Hobie of the days spent together on the revenge.

“That's true, It takes every bone in my body not to.”

He smiles lopsidedly, shaking his head at you. “I have to show this to you.” He exclaims excitedly. “Just be careful of where you step.”

You pause in your movements, “shit, alright.” testing the floorboards, you slowly clamber your way towards him. “How'd you even find this place? Did you go spelunking without me?”

“Found it on our second day, thought you wouldn't like to see a broken ship like this so soon.”

You smile softly at him, heart reaching towards him and he thinks he chose right.

Hobie opens a barrel, “Look at this, found it when I actually explored the place.”

You take a peek inside, hands leaning on the barrel. “Dried pomegranates? Look at that, your murder weapon.” flicking your eyes towards him, a teasing smile on your lips.

He huffs with a grin, hands placed on his hips. “So violent. You've been hanging around me too much eh, captain?”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that, Captain Y/N. It has a nice ring to it” chuckling, your hands instinctively inch over to his. He meets you halfway on the rim of the barrel, pinky intertwined with yours. “You wanna sleep separately from now on? Since we spend too much time together and all that.”

Hobie scoffs, sucking in his teeth. “Please, you can't sleep without me now.”

It's true, you've spoiled yourself with his warmth next to you every night.

Rolling your eyes, feigning offense, you change the subject. “What's with the pomegranates?”

“They planted it, using their own supplies.”

“Cute, they left a piece of themselves on the island.”

“More than that, because of ‘em we get to eat the fruit they planted. They helped us survive.”

You shake your head, “no, you helped us survive. You did all the work, Hobie.” Taking his hand, standing toe to toe with him, you stare at his eyes for too long that you drown in his eyes. “I never got to thank you for…everything. Thank you, captain, truly.”

His breath hitches in his throat. Warmth emanating from you, eyes sparkling under the sparse light and sand clinging to your hair, he feels himself carve your name on his skin; right next to hers, right next to the scar she left.

“I rendered the great Captain Hobie Brown speechless. I think I deserve some kind of medal for that—”

Hobie cups your cheeks with both hands, leaning in, the act has you shutting up immediately.

You hear wood cracking underneath your feet. You were above deck then a second later, you're groaning on the floor, laying on his chest, facing a skeleton.

“Oh fuck!” You flinch back, Hobie holds you in place with a hand on your waist. Straddling him, you look at the decaying skeleton on the floor. “Shit—” you notice the body under you. “Oh shit!” Holding his face, you roam your eyes for any visible injuries.

“You should write poetry, you have a way with words.” He says with a wince, peeking at you through his eyelashes, he pats your thigh and you get off his aching body.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, checking the back of his head for blood, thankfully you find none. Panic sets in your bones, crawling on all fours, you smack his leg.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Hobie sits up, with his legs moving, you can finally breathe.

“I thought your legs—” the wood creaked above, eyes widening at the barrel tethering on the edge, threatening to fall.

With Hobie still shaky from the fall, you grab him quickly, dragging him away from the falling object at the last minute before it collapses on both of you.

He grips your arm, staring at the space where you two were just in a second ago. The heavy barrel now occupies it, dried pomegranates spilling out from the split wood.

“Holy fuck.” He heaves.

You drop next to him, sliding down on the rotten walls. “Holy fuck is the right word for it.” he cranes his neck to look at you. “Death by pomegranates.”

You two watch your faces morph into a smile then into a grin and then to full blown laughter.

The loud noise scares the crabs away, dust flies around and there's splintered wood laying on the floors. Despite it all, you and Hobie continue to laugh. His head laying on your chest, hand around your middle and the vibrations from his chest making you laugh harder. With your hands around his torso, fingers splayed on his back, the both of you meld together in laughter.

“Mystery solved, that's how I could die by pomegranates. Take notes, Hobie.”

He inhales before leaning away, “you saved my arse.”

“Well you saved me too, we're even.”

Hobie thumps his head on the wall just like you have. His hand searches for yours while he stares at the skeleton left next to the barrel.

You find him first before he does, immediately weaving your fingers around his, you smile despite the near death experience.

“How would you do it?” He breaks the quiet.

“Do what?” you turn your head to look at him, he's calm, face relaxed.

“Kill me.”

“Hobie—” you groan.

“Humour me, love.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “poison probably.”

“Poison? Really?” Chuckling, he clasps your hand. Your stomach somersaults at the simple act.

“Mm-hmm, I figured that I can't possibly fight you, I can't shoot you so I'd do it in a subtle way. So, poison.”

“Fuckin' hell, I'll never let you cook.” Hobie turns his head towards the skeleton again like it would suddenly stand up and attack.

“You never let me cook anyway.”

“It's because you always burn it.”

“‘It's because you always burn it’” you mock his tone, “fuck off.”

Hobie guffaws which makes you laugh too.

The laughter subsides once again, he taps your thigh, leaving his warmth embedded in you.

“He has a nice hat,” groaning, Hobie stands up, stretching his back, giving you a glimpse of his skin.

You turn away, watching the pomegranate seeds tumble down. “Who?”

“This bloke.” He bends down, taking a tricorn hat off the dirty floor. “See? There's even a bird on it. Is that silver thread?”

“Let me see.” You stretch your hand up, he lifts you up with one tug.

“There, stitched around the bird.” Hobie points at the fading design.

You can barely make out the emblem, its beak barely there and wings almost indistinguishable. The silver thread weaves around it, the only fully visible thing.

Brushing the pads of your fingers around it, you tilt your head at Hobie. “I think it is, and it's incredibly filthy. Put it back, it's been here for more than twenty years or more.”

“How would you know?” He stares at you, perplexed.

“Judging from the decay,” you gesture around the skeleton, figuring it's too rude to point at it. “and adding the fact it's exposed to the elements, it's been here a long ass time.”

Hobie’s eyes brighten, “you fuckin' bookworm.”

Sticking your tongue at him, cheeks warm, “How'd you know the survivors got out of the island then?”

He shrugs, hands still holding the musty hat. “They left a note on top of a couple of graves just behind the ship.”

“Bullshit, now you're just making shit up.”

He chuckles, the sound similar to a giggle. “‘m not lyin’, cross my heart!”

“Sure, and I'm a selkie.” Sarcasm rolls off your tongue, “I'm going outside.” You begin to walk away, finding the space stifling from all the dust and death that surrounds it.

He quickly places the hat on top of your head and you jump away, flinging it off your head then throwing it at the perpetrator.

“What?” He laughs, “It looks better on you! He clearly doesn't need it anymore!” joking, he tries to put it on you again and you push him away as a warning.

Your smile betrays your true emotion. “Don't—”

“Alright” Hobie surrenders, placing the hat back where he found it, hands next to his head, he slyly inches towards you.

“Thank you, now can we go? High tide’s coming—”

He suddenly lunges for you, picking you up as you yelp and wiggle in his arms. His arm is underneath your knees, the other is around your torso, hands placed right above your ribs. You drown in him once again. Cackling, he walks towards the hole in the wall.

“Put me down!” you bunch up his shirt in your hands, “Hobie!”

“What? I'm taking you outside, it's clearly not safe here, love!” Your squirming has him holding onto you tighter. He grins widely, carefully squeezing out of the broken hull and into the light and fresh air.

Being this close to him, you notice the small dimples on his cheeks. Restraining yourself from poking it, you can't help but stare up at him like he's the sea himself. Deep and full of secrets, secrets that you're more than willing to dive for. A terrifying force on the surface but once you're underneath the tides, you see his true self, all the love he harbors for the people, all the hate that has made him who he is.

With his waves crashing against you, he smoothens your edges with his touch, if you're not careful, he'd erode you until you're nothing but a speck of sand.

Hands atop his shoulders, Hobie stops laughing the second he sees your eyes gleam over, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving half moons on his skin. He doesn't mind, he'd let you mark him if that's what you truly want.

“You alright?” He whispers, staring down at you like the sky above, beautiful and out of reach, a cloud soft and fleeting, stars that guide him in the night. A hurricane that has sunk ships. He thinks he's one of those ships.

You wonder if he used to look at her like this too. Your hold on him loosens.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say, voice quivering. His face goes slack, eyebrows furrowed. “Like I'm her, you know I'm not her.”

You've struck him with lightning.

You leap off his arms, wobbling on your feet. He stretches his fingers, ghosting over the shape you've left.

“What do you mean?” He asks even though he's afraid of what you're going to say.

You smile bitterly. “I remind you of her. And I'm not her, Hobie.”

“I— where is this coming from?”

Sniffing and shaking your head, “nevermind” you begin to walk towards the exit.

“Y/N,” Hobie grabs your hand, letting go immediately when you flinch like he has burned you. “Not bloody nevermind, what's wrong?”

Gwen and Hobie's arguing finally escapes its cage, their angry words thrown at each other have finally eaten through the back of your head, revealing a wound that hasn't closed. Together with the numerous times he has called her name instead of yours, you collapse under all of it.

He loves her and not you.

You avoid the swirling greys, arms crossed, head down, staring at your worn out shoes. It's better this way you think, cut it off like a lame limb before it spreads to your heart. You're letting him go, and it pains your soul to do so.

“You only like me because of the circumstances.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hobie's not mad at you, he's angry at the conversation and the idea that you've dug up.

Does he? Does he only like you because of her? Did he only let you in at the start because of her? He only knows what he currently feels for you right now.

“You like me because of the circumstances! If we weren't stuck here together you wouldn't be.” A thunderstorm has broken through.

“After all this time together do you really think that?” He asks the question for you and for himself.

Your hands shake, tears almost spilling over. You don't let it, not in front of him. “You tolerate me.” twisting to face him, you regret the words you've thrown, but it has to be said or the relationship would've been built on lies and love for another. “You called me by her name when I fell and when you slept. I–I don't know, Hobie, I really don't know.”

There it is, the knife that was made to split skin and bleed. Instead of Hobie holding it, it's you. But he helps you bury the steel in his body, helping you twist it, helping you bleed him.

“You were there?” You nod, “I— you do remind me of her… it's uncanny sometimes.” You stifle a sob, head held up high. “And I don't fuckin' know, Y/N. All I know is I like you despite the bloody circumstances.”

Hobie closes his eyes, rubbing it with the heels of his palms. “I'll see you back at the island.” He leaves, and you just watch.

Falling to the ground, you hug your knees, letting it all crumble around you.

—

You haven't slept, bags under your eyes, headache pounding in your head, the sound of soil getting dug out behind you has become a comfort not a nuisance.

You haven't looked at the source of the sound since he started, letting his quiet curses and groans fill you with sadness and guilt. With the sun rising, and a new day coming, you sit up, palms raw from your clenched fists.

He tried to do something nice and you threw it back at him with venom.

Heading towards the shore, kneeling down, you let the salt wash over the crescent wounds. Wincing at the stinging pain, you lift your hands away from the water, lingering, watching the sun rise with heavy eyes. The humidity stifles you, choking you almost.

You clutch at your chest, imagining that your necklace is still hanging around your neck. Wishing for the comfort it brings, but the gold isn't there and the only comfort you have is now cold around you, avoiding your presence since yesterday. The closest thing you have is the pearl in your pocket, so you place your hand inside, rolling the smooth edges around your fingers, letting the cool surface ease you.

With a shaky sigh, you trudge towards the grove, grass grazing along your legs, you stand stiff at the sight.

Graves, he's digging graves.

Covered in dirt and sweat, Hobie digs a hole in the ground using a sharp stick. Lips wobbling, you let a tear fall before wiping it away.

“Hobie.” You call his name softly, voice breaking. He doesn't look up, you notice his arms shaking from fatigue. “Hobie.”

He pauses mid dig, “what?” Asking sharply, his eyes are dark, worse for wear. “Don't ask me to stop, Y/N, because I won't.”

“I was gonna ask if you needed help—want my help.”

Hobie tosses a stick at you, “this is the last one.”

Nodding, you grab the stick from the ground. Jumping down the hole, you wordlessly dig across him. The rough wood opens the scratches on your palms, dribbles of blood rolling down like the tears you've shed.

“Is this Finn's?” you ask with apprehension.

Nothing.

“Ned’s?”

Still nothing, he swallows thickly.

“Mine?”

Hobie stops, sighing, “Do you really think I can do that just because of yesterday?” Do you think he is a monster?

“No. I was trying to lift the mood, I realize now it's in poor taste.”

“I would have laughed if we weren't digging a grave.”

“Graveyard humour.” you say flatly, stabbing the ground, digging even when your palms bleed, even when your blood falls inside the grave.

Hobie exhales, eyes heavy with fatigue, dirt underneath his nails.

“You want to stay.” he says with certainty, cutting the uncomfortable silence.

“I do.”

“You won't survive here alone.”

“I know.”

“Then we'll come back here, once everything is said and done.” He looks at you, “we'll come back here.”

“Hobie—”

His eyes flicker down to your hands, the stick now red from your own hands. “You're bleedin’”

With concern he drops the makeshift shovel to cross the small distance, slowly taking your hands away from the tool. Your skin clings to it like the roots of a tree.

“It's fine.”

Hobie clutches your hands, palms above your own, trying to stop the bleeding. “No, it's not.” No, you're not fine.

“It's just from…everything. I'll clean them so they don't get infected.” you try to leave but he still holds you tight.

“I'll clean it.” Let me help, please. He screams inside his head. Just this once, let him stop the blood instead of the one bleeding you dry.

You glance at him, lines marring his face, grey eyes laid upon a bloodied field. Lips pursed into worry.

“Alright.”

—

The silence makes you squirm in your seat, watching the waves on the shore, you let him clean your hands, trust him to clean your wounds.

Hobie carefully wraps your hands with a tattered part of his shirt. He smells of the familiar herbs and soil, eyes glued to your bandaged hands, he finally speaks.

“She was killed in front of me.” His voice lacks the usual tone, grief weaved around the sentence. “When the black helion sailed next to us I knew that she was already gone.”

You look at him, it's the least you could do.

“She called for me while Mathias had his sword right next to her neck. And I cowered under the deck until she asked with a smile if she could see me.”

Listening with tears in your eyes, Hobie avoids yours.

“The second I showed myself…he cut off her head. At first I thought it was her last attempt at hurting me, seeing her dead. But after a while I… I think she wanted me to be the last thing she ever saw because she grinned like she used to when she saw me.”

He raises his head to meet your tearful eyes, “Mary Jane, that was her real name.” He chokes before inhaling deeply. “An orphan like me but she got the wrong end of the bloody stick.” He spits the words angrily. “She wanted an out, that's why she went to Mathias. We fought when she told me she was navy, but I knew…I think I just didn't want to believe it.”

Your heart breaks for him.

“I want to avenge her not just for MJ but for everyone else who got the wrong end of the bloody stick. Thirty of my men died that day, I can grieve for them everyday for the rest of my life but it wouldn't be enough. It will never be enough.”

Hobie lets your hands go softly on your lap.

“It's better to be angry than to wallow in myself. They wouldn't like that if I did so I let myself be angry for their sake.”

You reach for him, surprising himself, he welcomes your touch. Holding his face like you hold the entire world in your palms, you kiss the corner of his eyes softly, encouraging him to cry.

Laying your forehead against his, you whisper the words to him like a secret shared between two lovers.

“Let me be angry for you just this once, e–even if it's just for today, let me carry it for you. And I'll be angry for you if you ask. Just ask me, Hobie.”

“Just for a minute.” He whispers back.

“Alright, just for a minute.”

Hobie drops his head on your shoulder, hiding his face from the world, arms enclosed around your torso, you let him cry.

—

You help Hobie bury the empty graves. Pomegranates and colourful flowers on top of each one except for the three at the very back. You whisper goodbyes to each one, giving Finn's, Ned's and the crew he lost with extra attention and extra love.

You leave a bar of chocolate on top of Finn's grave, his name written on a piece of driftwood. ‘beloved friend’ you've written under his name then you realize it's not enough to describe him, so you write ‘best chef in the world’ next to it, laughing to yourself once you finish it.

“I think he'd like it” Hobie said whilst he places the folded sail on top of Ned’s empty grave. He wrote next to his name, ‘a shit lyricist but a good friend, beloved by everyone’ and you sobbed wetly at the words.

You just stare at the graves for the men you killed, imagining them rotting under it. They were once children, you thought, but you don't regret it, because you lived because of what you did, lived because of what you endured.

Just as you're leaving the thicket, giving the crew one last goodbye, you watch Hobie write her name and you leave, giving him privacy.

You wait for him patiently under the trees, right next to the raft full of supplies you've gathered. Eyes downturned, cheeks stained with tears, you hear the rustle of leaves from behind and you don't mention the missing necklace from his neck.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

No.

“Yes.”

Hobie goes around the raft to push, you copy him.

“Is that—?” He stops, hand above his eyebrows, shielding it from the sun. “Holy shit.”

You follow his line of sight, perplexed, until you see five figures waving wildly at you.

“It's them” Hobie looks at you with relief and you almost weep once again.

“It's them.”

A/N: Before you all get mad at me for Miguel, all will be revealed in the next chapter. Thank you for reading!

[roll-a-troll]

Your name is Jeevik Cetefu, preferred honorific Miss. You use it/its and sho/sher/sherself, and your blood runs fuschia. Your sign is Pittanius, for better or for worse. you can't help but wonder what that means For reasons you cannot define, you feel something of an affinity to the idea of being a Seer. You are 11 sweeps old, and you've an interest in sewing, and dabble in troll coffee roasting- At least, when the mood allows. You were brought up by your unusual lusus, Haddocklusa, and you have never heard of your ancestor, Their Imperial Highness. You have golfclubkind equipped, and you're figuring it out.. You are doomed to die, you fear. You use the handle timaeusCrater on grubtube. via roll-a-troll https://ift.tt/GeqnXl7, do as you please

[virtualciti]

अब जो टूटे तो न सिलेंगे दिल के टुकड़े के हैं हर ताने बाने पे रफुगारी के निशां ABB JOH TOOTE TOH NA SILAINGE DIL KE TUKDE KE HAIN HAR TANE BANE PE RAFUGARI KE NISHAN THE PIECES WON'T SEW BACK AGAIN IF NOW MY HEART BREAKS THAT ALL WARPS AND WEFTS OF MY HEART BEAR REPAIR MARKS #warp #weft #weave #repair #sew #brokenheart #heartbreak #heartbroken #jilted #lover #poet #poetry #sher #shayar #shayari #shayri #ghazal #couplet #urdushayari #urdupoetry #hindishayari #hindipoetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofig #poetsofinstagram #urduslam #urduadab #poetryslam #sadpoetry #sadshayari (at Chandigarh, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8ArzPOHObu/?igshid=106bg4a9ot1bo

[gvbejvmes]

Drabble-a-thon: Five, Family

Title: Stranger “Danger" Rating: R Relationships: Gabriel & Georgie, Francis/Maria James (implied) Trigger Warnings: Child abuse, domestic violence, child neglect, bystander effect, toxic guilt, victim blaming, homophobic language  Brief Summary: In our family portrait we look pretty happy. Let's play pretend; act like it goes naturally.

1981

Staying home from school because he was “sick” was boring. There was nothing to do, not that he could do anything if he wanted to. He was sprawled out on his bed listening to Pat Benatar on the Walkman his dad had bought him a couple of weeks ago. It had been an expensive gift for the seven year old, but his mom didn’t complain, which was weird. Usually his mom complained when his dad came home with expensive gifts, but not this time. So Gabe was taking advantage and listening to it as much as possible for when one of them changed their mind and tried to return it or sell it at the store or something.

“Gabe,” His little sister nudged his hip from where she’d been laying next to him on the bed playing with the yarn their mom had given her to practice hand knitting. She’d gotten the yarn a couple of days prior, with the explanation that good wives needed to know how to sew, and knit, and crochet. She wouldn’t be able to use actual needles until she was six, which was still a couple of years off, but she needed to have the mechanics down, hence the hand knitting. Gabe had wanted to learn how to hand knit, too, so without thinking about it, their mom had showed them both. That had ultimately led to the reason why Gabe was out sick from school this week. They hadn’t put everything away before his dad had gotten home from the store, and well… Knitting was for girls and sissies and “any son of Frank James wasn’t a sissy.” 

He should have known better than to ask, but it just seemed like so much fun. He wished he got to learn how to make things instead of having to do chores. Georgie had it so easy. Pausing his cassette, he pulled his headphones off, and looked at his sister. “What’s wrong?” He asked, but then he heard it. Someone was knocking on the front door.

The thing was… there wasn’t an adult home with them, which wasn’t uncommon. Their parents told Gabe all the time that he was old enough to look after his sister so they left them alone all the time. He didn’t think that they would leave Georgie alone by herself. She was only four; she was a baby still, but Gabe was almost eight. He was totally old enough to stay home alone and babysit his little sister.

One of the rules was that they weren’t allowed to open the door when they were home alone, but what if one of their parents forgot their key? He looked at his sister and set his Walkman gingerly on the bed. “Maybe it’s mom?” He questioned before sliding off the bed and padding out to the living room, Georgie hot on his heels. 

As soon as they were in the living room, they peeked through the curtains of the big, front window, to see who was standing at the door. “It’s Sheriff Holland.” Gabe whispered out, jumping when there was another knock on the door. “Mom did say we could open the doors for cops… You stay where he can’t see you though, okay?” He waited for Georgie’s nod before unlocking the front door, and opening it so Sheriff Holland could see only see half his face. “Hi, Sheriff Holland.” Gabe greeted shyly, already feeling Georgie’s face at his side even though he told her to stay out of sight.

“Gabriel,” Sheriff Holland greeted with a smile. “Your dad home? I stopped by the store, but Billy said I just missed him. He home here with you?”

If his dad was home, Gabe and Georgie wouldn’t have left their room. Instead of saying that, Gabe just shook his head ‘no.’ 

The sheriff nodded, as though he’d expected that answer already, which didn’t make any sense to Gabe. “Can I talk to your momma then?” He asked instead.

Again, Gabe shook his head. “She’s at the church.” His mom was at the church every day between nine and twelve helping the pastor prep for the different programs. He thought everyone knew that.

A strange look passed across the sheriff's face. “I don’t reckon that you have a babysitter, do you?” And when Gabe shook his head again, the sheriff squatted down to Gabe’s level. “And I reckon your momma and dad know you and little sister aren’t in school today, don’t they?” When Gabe nodded, the sheriff sighed. “Son, can I see your face?”

Gabe’s eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head wildly. That was definitely something he knew he wasn’t allowed to do. Days where he had to stay home sick meant that he wasn’t supposed to show anyone whatever bad bruise or cut he had. That’s why he had to stay home so other grown-ups didn’t know that he’d been bad and now was hurt because he’d been bad. 

“He can’t show people his face today.” Georgie supplied helpfully.

Panicked, Gabe tried to close the front door, but Sheriff Holland’s knee was in the way and he couldn’t. Instead he pushed the door all the way open and sighed when he saw Gabe’s face. His left eye was completely swollen shut. The swelling was actually down from the day before, but it still hurt and he still couldn’t open his eye. The area around it was purple and red. The colors would have been pretty if it didn’t mean bad things.

“Gabriel, son. I’m going to need you and your sister to come to the station with me.”

And that was the moment Francis James’ large, towering figure appeared behind Sheriff Holland. Gabriel had assumed that if his dad left the store it was to go to the bar; not to come home. Somehow he couldn’t help but to think that the sheriff had thought the same, if the look on his face was anything to go by. 

“They will do nothing of the sort. Gabriel, take your sister back to your room. Now.” 

Gabe didn’t look at his father. He just took Georgie’s hand and they booked it to their room. He was going to be in so much trouble now. He definitely shouldn’t have answered the door.

“He’s gonna be so mad.” Gabe whined to Georgie, his good eye already welling up with tears. 

As he sat back up on his bed, Georgie sat next to him. “It’ll be okay, Gabe. It’ll be okay.” The little girl tried to soothe. “He won’t do nothing when Sher Holland is here.”

Gabe nodded slowly, even though he knew nothing would actually stop his dad once he got going. As soon as the sheriff was gone, Gabe got ten swats with their dad’s belt. He couldn’t sit properly for a week.

The next day Gabriel found out he and Georgie were being home-schooled for the rest of the year before they would both go to the school at the church instead of the local elementary school. Gabe overheard his dad complaining about his teacher, Miss Jones, and how she’d tattled on Gabe’s bruises to one of the deputies. The teachers at the church wouldn’t tell anyone if they saw bruises; they were too afraid of Francis James. 

It didn’t dawn on him until years later that he never saw Sheriff Holland again. His father had complained at a city council meeting, and not a week later, he was transferred to a different town. Gabe never did open the door when he and Georgie were home alone ever again.

[uhohcabbyo316]

what would be like,, yuor ocs' fav,,,,, hobbees

would you like the hob or the bees

Yorudan Yagi - Don’t make fun of her, she REALLY likes lego. She has a stash of it,, she builds robots with them,,,

Ningyou Shikura - I think we’ve established his hobby is gardening! But I think he’d also enjoy reading.

Kab - This one’s tough!! He’d probably just watch whatever Yorudan is doing, but he probably enjoys gardening with Ningyou!

Charity - She’s learning to play the guitar. More specifically, electric guitars. She likes rock music!!

Ansuya - Xe likes cooking!!

Cookie - She probably goes down to the shooting range.

Boxu Kuro - They play some instruments too!! Drums probably

Cherry Saki - Animals :] she takes care of them

Kemerou Daiju - Sewing!! Or knitting. 

P.O.K.E. - Probably doesn’t have any hobbies. Just powers down when she’s bored!

Kitty Kasahara - She goes to the pet store to look at animals. That’s a hobby, right?

Samu Yagami - Stealing things She’s a collector!

Rei Doi - shopping

Sher Chisaki - Sleeps a lot. Graveyard shift.

Himitsu Tabara - Writing!!

Tanoshi Tachi - Sleeping...!

Drii Doro - Reading

[clemanime]

Weakness

WARNING: Smut, fluff

Y/n walked into the familiar apartment on Baker Street, remembering how the atmosphere was different when she left. It was one of sadness because Sherlock is gone. She left because she couldn’t take the gloomy and depressing atmosphere. She continued to move up the stairs, ready to see John again since he invited her to his wedding. She knocked on the door and bit her bottom lip, turning around when she heard footsteps going up the stairs. “Oh.. Y/n! It’s been a long time hasn’t it.”

“How are you doing Mrs. Hudson?” She smiled and hugged her. “I came back for the wedding.”

“Oh that’s right. John told me about it.” She opened the door, leaving it open to let Y/n walk in. As she moved in she stopped, freezing in her spot when she saw the tall gentleman standing at the window, tuning his violin.

“Ah.. Y/n glad you could make it.” John said.

Sherlock turned around and looked at her, his expression welcoming. She walked towards him quickly, cupping his cheeks then pinching them to make sure he was real. “Sher.. Sherlock.”

“Yes I’m alive.” He replied, smiling slightly.

“I watched you jump.. I.. I said I l-” She cut herself off and looked at John before walking towards the kitchen. “Did you know I went back to the states?”

“Yes. Molly informed Mycroft who informed me.”

“Two years.” She said, lining tea cups along the counter before moving to the pots. “John.. Mrs. Hudson please leave the apartment. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

They both walked out the door, John closing it behind him as Sherlock stood next to his desk. “Y/n.. why are you l-” She threw a cup at him, cutting him off and causing him to duck.

“Two! Years!” She yelled throwing between words. “And you didn’t have to balls to come to me! The person who watched.. everything happen!”

“Yes. I never expected you to throw anything at me.” He continued to duck, running around the room so he didn’t get hit.

“You expect me to be happy!?” She threw the last of her ammo at him, picking up a frying pan. “You left me! You hurt me!”

Moving quickly, Sherlock managed to grab her arms, wrestling her for the weapon. The two moved through the apartment until Y/n fell back on the sofa with him over her. “Yes but I’m back now! Is that not good enough?” He grabbed the pan and threw it somewhere else. “Are you not happy that I returned?”

“No! I wish you were dead! I’d kill you myself if you’d just..” She tried to get her wrists free from his grip but he only tightened it. “Let me go!”

“You’re hostile and it’s a threat against my life. I’d rather not risk getting hurt anymore.

“You psychotic asshole! You don’t care about anybody but yourself!”

“I faked my death to protect you!” He snapped, letting her go. “To protect all of you! You all had targets on your back with me alive and I couldn’t risk losing the only family I have.. outside of Mycroft.”

“As if you had a heart Holmes! As if you considered us family or friends!” She pushed him. “You don’t hurt family if you want to protect them!”

“You’re right..” He trailed off. “Mrs. Hudson and John.. they’re considered friends. Mycroft is my brother so he’s automatically my family.” He looked at Y/n as she caught her breath. “You, I consider neither.”

”That doesn’t make me feel any better Holmes.” She spoke ready to bash his head in.

“If you’d listen you  might change your attitude towards me.” He backed away from her, keeping his distance. “As hard as it is to believe I love you most of all and I only came back because I didn’t want you to be in any more pain.” She stared at him in confusion. “When we first met you were hard to analyze, something that only happened once before but sadly she’s dead. For you I had to take my time and get to know you, something that took more time that intended. But was worth it. I didn’t understand it at first until Mrs. Hudson mentioned that you left because of my death, fake death. Baker Street wouldn’t be the same without your optimistic attitude towards everything.”

“I still want to kill you Holmes.” Y/n said after a moment of silence. “But it can wait for another time.” She walked towards the door, ready to leave. “I’m here for a friend that’s getting married and my grieving period already ended so.. I’m over you.” She pulled the door open and looked at Mrs. Hudson and John, who were staring at her. “Mrs. Hudson is that apartment still available?”

“Yes. I hadn’t gotten around to moving your things out.” Mrs. Hudson walked with her down the stairs as John went to talk to his friend.

“You love her?” John asked.

“Oh shut up.” Sherlock said, walking towards his violin and playing a sad tune.

“It is best to talk about it Sherlock.” He pushed.

“I can’t tell anything about her John. She’s still a difficult one so I don’t know if she feels the same or if she really does hate me.” He slumped down in his chair, staring out the window. “She won’t talk to anyone but Mrs. Hudson.”

“Oh Sherlock you are an idiot.” Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat, picking up the broken glass. “That poor girl is hurt and you just tell her out of the blue that you love her.”

“Not now Mrs. Hudson.” Sherlock rubbed his forehead.

“Her feelings are the same, she’s just so angry with you that she’s not going to tell you.” The older woman threw the broken glass away and looked at Sherlock but he was already gone, moving down the stairs to Flat 221C. He knocked rapidly, waiting for an answer but knocking again because he’s impatient.

Y/n pulled the door open, looking up at Sherlock as he huffed. He leaned in, kissing her before she could ask him any questions. She kissed him back but backed away, staring into his eyes before shaking her head. She was about to close the door again but he kissed her again, pulling her against his body with one arm as his hand cupped her cheek. She gave in to the kiss, putting her hands on his chest as she closed her eyes. He broke away from her, licking his lips before nodding. “I should have done that before.”

“Yeah.” She nodded in agreement.

“I’ve been trying to find out your feelings towards me and a simple kiss answered it.”

“For someone who’s got genius level intellect you’re an idiot when it comes to feelings.” She looked into his eyes and looked down taking his hand and pulling him into her apartment as she closed the door. She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pushed one of her hands into his hair. He picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her down. He pressed himself full against hers as she tried to unbutton his shirt only to grow frustrated and pop the buttons.

“That was my favorite purple shirt.” He breathed out, looking at himself.

“Trust me I liked the shirt too. It looked good on you but I’ll have to fix it later.” She turned them over, straddling his hips as she pulled her dress off and tossed it. She unbuckled Sherlock’s pants and freed his growing member, biting her bottom lip as she kissed him again. She moved down his body, kissing and biting as she stopped at his cock. She took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before sucking.

“Oh dear God.” Sherlock moaned, his fingers pushing into her hair. “Y/n you’re so lewd.” She moaned around him and moved her hand so she could stroke him while she sucked. “Y/n I’m gonna..” She pushed him down her throat, closing her eyes as he released. “Bloody hell.” He cupped her cheek as she looked up at him, kissing her way up his body.

Sherlock turned them over, pulling her underwear off as he kicked his off. She pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his slim waist. He pushed against her opening, holding his breath as he pushed into her. “God Sherlock.” Y/n whimpered as she dug her nails into his back. He slowly thrust into her, holding her thighs as he pressed his forehead against hers. Sherlock cupped her cheek and pushed his thumb into her mouth, rubbing it against her bottom lip.

He quickened his pace as her moans grew louder. Y/n opened her eyes and looked at him, gasping. Sherlock stared down at her, pleasure in his eyes and on his face. She’d only seen a straight face and an odd smile on his face but never something that would create butterflies. His cheeks and ears turned red as he looked at her. “What?” He panted, slowing down.

“You’re beautiful Sherlock.” She answered, cupping his cheek and kissing him. She moaned as his cock brushed against the right spot, making her shake.

“Is that it?” He asked, kissing her neck. Sherlock nipped and sucked at it her neck, sending her over the edge.

“Right there! D-Don’t stop Sherlock!” She bit his shoulder as she rode out her high, toes curling as everything became blurry. He shook, groaning as he pulled out of her.

“I did not expect to end my day like this.” He said, laying next to her. “I wanted to give you time but.. when Mrs. Hudson said you felt the same I-”

“When I stopped myself from murdering you.. it was the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“It’s a weakness.” She looked at him as he stared at the ceiling. Both started laughing, shaking their head.

“I’d wear it again but you ruined the buttons.”

“I said I’ll fix it.” She sat up and got off the bed, putting her robe on before tossing him his pants. “Are you hungry? I’m making snacks.” She smiled at him as he got dressed and walked behind her.

“I could eat.” Sherlock nodded.

“Hey Sherlock Mrs. Hudson wanted t-” John stopped and looked at Sherlock and Y/n, confused at first but nodding.

“Quickly John.” Sherlock said, turning his attention back to the woman that was searching for her sewing kit.

“Never mind. I’ll ask later.” John stared at his back and nodded. “I’m assuming you two got together.”

“What?” Sherlock questioned.

“You two got off.”

“Sex Sherlock. And yes John we did.” Y/n held up the sewing kit.

“What gives you that idea John?”

“The scratches on your back.” He pointed out.

[tailoringtay]

Since he is a fairly important character to Tay, here is some stuff on Grim :3

Name: Grim Gudbrand Age: 43-44 Race: Human Gender: Male Height: 6′8″ (203.2cm) Weight: 170lbs (81.193kg) Occupation: Tailor

The story thus far…

  Known by all as a free spirit, no one can really remember when exactly Grim appeared. But, as a young adult he started up work as a tailor in Lindblum, spending several years learning the trade and making connections along the way. It was by no means a fast process, but it remained one he would dedicate himself to, his determination and eventual increase in skill gaining him loyal customers and friends alike (including the woman who would eventually become his wife). Of course, to Grim, the attention was more a bonus to doing what he loved, and added opportunity to help people along the way.

   He was just as willing to pass one his knowledge to others. Grim first took on an apprentice named Magnus, and, although the two got along well, Magnus eventually decided on an abrupt shift of occupation. Leaving no more than a hurried note behind, Magnus disappeared to pursue his new aspiration.

   In all the confusion, another young man was brought to Grim, mistaken for his apprentice due to his name...

   Taylor.

   The young teen was far from cooperative. But, upon realizing Taylor showed a spark of interest in the job, Grim welcomed him with open arms as his second apprentice. Throughout their time together he met the young man’s aggravation with simple patience, eventually causing a shift that allowed Taylor to more freely involve himself with the trade.

   Several years later, he was proud to wish Taylor well as he set out to start a tailoring shop of his own. Grim himself remains in Lindblum, mostly retired from the business and keeping more to personal projects.

Personality:

   Cheerful and carefree, Grim never seems to miss a beat. He possesses endless patience, a bubbly, warm sort of kindness found in each of his actions. Despite this, he is by no means a pushover, steadfast in his ways and unabashedly true to himself. Although he enjoys helping others, Grim does so in an often passive way, brightening the lives of those around him with his giddy nature and determined attitude alone.

    Likes:        - Sewing, warm colors, helping others

    Dislikes:        - ?

Fighting Characteristics:

   He’s not a fighter. At all.

Other:

Tay uses Grim’s last name, Gudbrand

Grim calls Tay ‘kiddo’

He is a fairly skilled magic caster, though he possesses no combat magic to speak of

Grim and Tay keep regular correspondence, with Tay writing him letters at least once a month when he’s not in Lindblum

He is married, his wife a Burmecian named Sher

[qarukhel]

IDENTIFICATION —

Full Name:  Scheris Adjani

Pronunciation: Shh-air-ees Ad-jah-nee.

Name Meaning: Beautiful Darling.

Nicknames: Sher, Kid, Hey you!

Age: 19

Name Day: 1st Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

Birthplace: Unknown

Guardian: Nophica, The Matron  

Residence: Shirogane, Pendulum Manor.  9th Subdivision, Plot #46

REFERENCES —

Motto: “It's mind over matter.  If Qara and Giah don't mind, why does it matter?!”

Theme Song: Let Me Out by Hidden Citizens (Feat. Rånya)

STATS —

Gender:  Female

Race:  Au Ra, Raen

Height:  5'0″

Weight: 101 ponzes

Eyes: Pale blue

Hair: Dark blue with black highlights, kept in dual pony-tails

Skin: Pale white scales

Build: Slender

Scars:  Nope

Tattoos/Marks:  None.

At First Glance (+5)

   Innocent.

   Runs from things, usually towards a murderous female Xaela.

   Usually in the company of the above-mentioned Xaela and a Miqo’te.

   Not all that she seems

   Flighty

FACTS —

Occupation: Adventurer  

Specialties:  Climbing tall things.

Skills:  Magic of all types, destructive and healing.

PROFICIENCY —

Education: Unknown

Favored Weapon(s): Canes, rapiers and Astrologian's arms.

Secondary Weapon(s): None

Magic Abilities: She is a Red, Black and White Mage.  She dabbles in Astromancy (Astrologian).

RELATIONS —

Sexual Preference: She's never sat down and thought about it.

Romantic Identification:  See previous question.

Relationship Status: Single.

Sweet on: anyone who is nice.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Allies: Giah Onahah, Qaraghoa Dotharl, Painted Oryx, Budan Haragin.

Enemies:  That's not really how she thinks.  She doesn't hate easily.

FAMILY —

Maternal: Unknown

Paternal: Unknown

Mentors:   Qaraghoa and Giah

Siblings: Unknown

MENTALITY —

Social Level: She loves being social!

Optimistic View(s): “Ooooh, pretty!  Can I touch it?”

Pessimistic View(s): “Qara...ummm...Help?”

One  Positive Personality Trait: Friendly.

One Negative Personality Trait: Flighty.

One Personality Warning: No one has seen it yet.

Hobbies: Climbing, Sewing, Sleeping.

Addictions: Moogles

Pleasures: Just about anything fun.  Likes to swim, soak or shower more than anything.

Appreciates (List 5+)

   A hot bath

   Sweets

   Flowers

   Friends

   Clothes

Dislikes (List 5+)

   Anything trying to kill her

   Brussel Sprouts

   Boredom

   Anger

   People hurting

Strengths (List 5+)

   Merciful

   Helpful

   Problem Solving (she likes puzzles)

   Agile

   Honest

Weaknesses (List 5+)

   Flighty

   Amnesiac

   Possessed

   Wears her heart on her sleeve

   Hesitant to fight

Fears (List 5+)

   What's inside

   Being alone

   Qara's anger

   Marlboros

   Foghorns

FAVORITES ––

Favorite Food(s): Anything sweet, Noodles

Favorite Drink(s): Tea, water, coffee, lemonade

Favorite Scent(s): Candy being made; flowers of any type.

Favorite Colors: Reds, blues and black.

TRIVIA -

She doesn't remember a lot of her past.  Most of her memories are from within the last year.  Very few know about this and she doesn't tell people about it willingly.  Her black and red mage skills are an expression of the spirit that currently possesses her.

OOC -

Server:  Mateus

Timezone: EST

Mun:  quarukhel

Experience: Started with D&D when I was 12.  Moved on to text based RPGs when I was in my early 20's.  

Tagged by: I copied it from captain-ameribun.

Tagging: No one.  It's your choice! :)

[adoodleintime]

OKAY I promised I'd do this so here we go:

How I Made my Vanessa Cosplay 101

What I used:

1 green zipper

Velcro

2 yds dark green fabric

3 yds medium green fabric (like that generic green you know what I'm talking about probably)

1 1/2 in. wide dark green ribbon

3/8 in. wide gold ribbon

1 pkg. large rhinestones

~1/2 yd. off-white felt

A crap ton of thread

Gold foam glitter paper

A hot glue gun

A petticoat

A plain green knee length sleeveless dress

Elbow length green gloves

A plain black headband

Plain black ribbon

Stuffing

Basically everything on this list can be obtained on Amazon and at your local craft/fabric store.

Confession: I cheated. I bought a green dress on Amazon to use as a base for the cosplay. But it's fine.

The first thing I did was draft a bunch of patterns, using newspaper. I used a blouse of mine as the base of the bodice pattern, and drafted a collar (essentially I cut a long rectangle out and curved the top and bottom.). For the puffed sleeves, I used the puff sleeve pattern from kirileecosplay (check her out on YouTube- she's got a great puff sleeve tutorial and a free pattern, as well as a bunch of super cool sewing tutorials and cosplays!). I then drafted a diamond pattern.

For the bodice, I highly recommend making a mockup to practice the puff sleeve attachment and make sure everything is going to fit right. Use an old sheet or pillow for this.

For the skirt, i cut a bunch of diamonds out of the dark green fabric (approximately 40) and sewed two together on three sides, then flipped the diamond inside out and stitched it closed. When i had done all the diamonds (about 10 total per side) I took the green dress I had purchased off Amazon and sewed the diamonds on that, making sure to leave a space about 2 1/2 inches wide about 5/6 of the way down the dress to stitch the dark green ribbon onto, all the way around.

Most of the bodice was pretty simple- I had one piece for the front and two pieces for the back, made out of the green fabric. I added the zipper to the back (any zipper you buy will probably have an attaching tutorial with it) and the sleeves to the sleeve holes things. Then I took two lengths of dark green ribbon, long enough to go around the base of the puff sleeve, and two lengths of gold ribbon, the same length. I sewed the gold ribbon onto the green ribbon and then sewed the ends of the green ribbon together to form one round. I hand stitched these sleeve caps onto the bottom of the puffed sleeves. The last step on the bodice was to hot glue a large gold rhinestone at the base of the neckline.

For the accessories, I started with the crown. I simply cut a small gold crown out of the foam paper and hot glued the ends together. Then I cut a slut on two opposite sides of the crown to put the headband through. The belt was also pretty simple. I cut a length of green ribbon long enough to go around my waist, hemmed the end, and added Velcro to secure it. Then I hot glued three gold rhinestones, about 2 inches apart, along the center of it. The choker was enough black ribbon to go around my throat, and a gold rhinestone hot glued in the middle. I tied it to secure it.

The final cosplay was a petticoat, the dress, the bodice, the belt, the choker, the crown, and plain black flats.

I hope this was helpful! Good luck to anyone who attempts this!

[sitaaronkepaar]

Daily Rikara Ramblings

Aww, poor Gauri doing hisaab. 😢

Omg…….galti se Omkara!! Haha, Queenie subconsciously knows super sardar is her hujband! 😂😂😂 😂😂😂

Lol, Omkara Dilpreet ki hawaiyan udd gayi hain 😂😂😂

Is Gauri so disillusioned with Omkara that even with all the indications, she thinks it can’t be him? I mean I thought it was stupid of Gauri not to recognize him, but like, is she in denial? Maybe in her gut, she knows, but just can’t to accept it, cause why would the guy who called her gandi, giri hui, ghinoni aurat come back to her?

Lol, Omkara Dilpreet and his ghatiya sher. 😂😂

Aww man, Omkara Dilpreet trying to make Gauri laugh is what I’m here for. 💝 💝

Gauri’s like, lol, imma be cray, itni ghatiya shayri karne wale Omkaraji nahi ho sakte. As if uski purani shayari kisi k palle padti thi. 😹

Damn, Richa’s a good friend y'all.

Gauri’s like lol don’t challenge me.

Ab Omkara will see what a DabangRi his wife is.

Omg Omkara k absence me bhi passive aggressive comments!!! Yay! 🤗🤗🤗🤗

But aww, Queenie, don’t be sad bro. 😢 😢

Gauri still has full faith in her Shankarji and herself though. What a Queen! 👸👸👸💝

Aww, I like this faith having Omkara. Pehle kahan tha? The more I see Dilpreet, the more I want to hold on to him and never let go. Gosh, Dilpreet is legit so much better than Omkara.

Omg omkara kitni bhook lagti hai tujhe? Abhi toh khana khaya tha. 😐😐😐

Isko kis kaam pe lagna hai? Is he gon help her out? By ordering a million idol clothes? Ok, I know all my headcanons can’t come true. But I still want heer toh badi sad hai.🤣🤣🤣

Wtf, abhi maine idol clothes bola and now look at Gauri sewing then furiously!! Is my headcanon hon come true? 😏😏😏

OMFG IT DID!!! I bet Omkara had something to do with this. My prediction came true bahahahhahhaha😎😎😎😎😎

Gauri’s like mom pls, you don’t understand queenie ki maaya, 100 kya main toh 10000 chunniyan bana lungi, woh bhi aadhi raat me. 😎😎😎

Hahhaha, Gauri’s so annoyed with Omkara Dilpreet lol.

Hain, Dilpreetji’s nowhere to be found.

Gauri you may have ocd, which is fine, but um, don't touch a strangers stuff?

Hahhaha, it’s that card k chithde.

Baal baal bacha liya Omkara Dilpreet. 😌😌😌😌😌😌

Lmaooo, Omkara’s so bad at this 😂😂😂😂😂

Good save though. 👍👍👍👍👍

Lol OM k servants kaha they jo waha bhi Gauri se hi kaam karwata tha? Pura fayda uthaya meri Gauri ka. 😢

Aww, he can’t eat without her. 💝

LOL. He scared her again, poor Gauri lmao. 😂😂😂

Honestly, if someone did that to me, I’d have slapped them without dekhing any aav ya taav. Don’t be scaring me bish!

Is he gon help her out? Man, that’s so cute. 😊😊😊😊

Omkara’s like hum kisi se kam nahi 😂😂😂

“Yeh toh sab main biwi k liye hi kar raha hun”

😊😊😊😊💝💝💝💝

God, you guys, Shrenu’s so pretty. Her 100 watt ki smile is just…. 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

I don’t know how I feel about this song……but it is better than mere sawalon ka jawab do. Lol. 😣😣😣

I guess it is apt though? Tu hai toh I’ll be all right.

Hahaha he’s so proud lmaoo. 😂😂😂😂

Look at his dopey smile. Lmao. What a cute puppy! 😚😚😚

Shit Omkara, easy bro. Dupatta phad hi dega kya?😧😧😧😧. Haath batana hai, kam bhadana nahi hai. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

Lmaooo and it flew in the air! 😂

And down it goes on their sar. 😂😂😂

Gauri k expressions se lag raha hai omkara ka bhanda jaldi phootne wala hai. 😓😓

Aww @Omkara Dilpreet pakding his kaan in sorry though. Whadda cutie! 😚😚

I know logic nahi lagana chahiye but Omkara Dilpreet’s tattoo’s so in your face, how has Gauri not recognised it yet? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Heck, why hasn’t he tried to hide it? Aur kuch nahi toh apni sleeves hi neeche pull karleta. 😐😐😐😐😐

Oh, shit she pricked her finger again. Today’s not a good day for Gauri. 😖😖😖😖😖

Omkara’s concern for Gauri warms the cockles of my cold dead heart though. 💖💖💖💖

And she noticed it too. Hmmmm ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Aww puppies feel sleepy! 💕

Omfg, what is this white suit guy? Dafuq? Ugh, I don’t even want to know. Ffwding. ⏩⏩⏩

Ugh, look at babies sleeping. Aren’t they adorable? 😍😍😍😍

OMG THIS IS MY FAVE HINDI SERIAL TROPE OF ALL TIME. GOD, I LOVE IT.

The girl sleeping on the guy's shoulder, guy wakes up dheere dheere, notices the girl, niharofies her tenderly, sees her waking up and pretends to be asleep. Gahh, I just love it so much. 💕💕💕

Also, call back to Chulbul times when Gauri was sleeping next to Omkara and asked Shankarji to make all her mornings like that? I am digging these parallels. 😃

Gauri is like 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱 wtf did I just do?? Ghor paap! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Is this why she was apologizing to Shankarji in the bts?

Lmaoo, is this why she calls him bhai?

Yes, it is. Man, Gauri’s so pure. Sigh. 😢💕💕💕

“hamari zindagi me hamare pati k ilawa aur kisi k liye bhi koi jagah nahi hai”

Gosh, til til k Omkara’s gon die finding out just how pure his Gauri is. 😢

Chalo, he realizes what a Lucky ass he is. Lmaoo.

Lol she told him dur rahiye 😂😂😂

He looks so sad tho. poor bbby, but this is all yo fault.

Damn, ek aur teer straight to Omkara’s heart. Omkara ko chod diya but passive aggressiveness nahi chodi. I love you, my petty queen. 😭😭😭😭

I know she isn’t really being petty……but let me live ok. 🙄

“Na ji na, o Bhai ni, aap fraand keh do, rishtedar keh do, padosi keh do, kirayedar keh do, jo bhi kehna hai keh do bas bhai na kehna”

LMFAO @ Omkara’s reaction at being called her “bhai”. Gosh, this is golden. ROFLLLLL.

“Time toh dekho, *taps his bare wrist* time hi nahi mere paas.”

LMFAOOO I’m dead. DEAD!! 😂😂😂😂

[aninconvenientwardrobe]

AN INTERVIEW WITH MARY BEMIS, FOUNDER & DESIGNER OF ECO&ETHICAL ACTIVEWEAR BRAND REPRISE

Happy Holidays to us: What a treat to have the chance to pick the mind of the gorgeously talented and passionate eco-advocate Mary Bemis. Mary is the founder, creative director, and product developer behind the upcoming eco-conscious and ethically-made athletic brand Reprise Activewear. She is also the brains behind Reconsider Blog, a chronicling of her efforts at environmentally friendly living. Somehow, despite managing these two ventures in addition to her job as a financial & marketing analyst, she found the time to tell us about her foray into sustainable fashion design. Read on...

AIW: Your blog (which is so awesome) says you've been a proponent for sustainability for a long time. How did eco-friendliness get on your radar? In what ways did your education growing up inspire that sort of consciousness? Why do you think it registers in some people and less in others? 

MB: Thank you! The blog has just been a fun way for me to share what I've been learning on this journey to become a more sustainable person. At times I don't feel like I know enough to be giving advice, but I felt that if I started putting what I was learning out there maybe more people would be inspired as well. My favorite outcome of it so far was when my almost-90-year-old grandmother who occasionally reads it told me that she hadn't thought about how her use of plastic utensils was wasteful and she was going to try to stop using them! I find it upsetting that sustainable living has a stigma for being uncool and inconvenient, so my biggest goal with my blog is to share how easy it can be to make small changes without compromising current lifestyle. 

My interest in this did start when I was young though; I grew up in an environmentally conscious family, so while I didn't pay attention to it at the time, living sustainably was ingrained in me from a very early age. Growing up, I was the one running around the house turning off the unused lights and turning down the heat a few degrees. It drove my family crazy but I couldn't stand the thought of being wasteful. 

AIW: What did you study during undergrad? While in college, did you prioritize sustainability in any way? 

MB: I was an Economics major and Mathematics minor in college (I went to Occidental College) and my goal at the time was to move to New York and work on Wall Street. My vision was incredibly narrow at that time of my life, because I wasn't aware of how many different career choices there are, but I'm thankful for these experiences that have pushed me towards eventually finding a more meaningful and fulfilling life. I didn't necessarily prioritize sustainability during my time there except I was in the first round of students to help pioneer the reusable takeout containers in the dining hall!

AIW: When did sustainable fashion become something you thought about, became passionate about, and then actually decide to quit your job for? 

MB: There's sort of a chain of events that really lead me to this path. I had quit my job in banking because I was totally burned out and was looking for more satisfaction out of life. On my way out of my job, a coworker at the time had recommended this book to me: 'I Could do Anything if I Only Knew What it Was' by Barbara Sher. It is filled with self-reflection exercises on things like, if you could pursue anything—even as crazy as quitting your office job to become a professional dog sled racer (a true story from the book)—what would you do? It allowed me to get my creative juices flowing and realize that my two passions were design and sustainability [I was doing all of the exercises from my family's ranch in Wyoming completely surrounded by nature so I think that might have had an influence too ;)]. Shortly after, I watched the movie 'The True Cost' about all of the unethical and unsustainable practices in the fashion industry and at that point I knew I had to do something.

AIW: Tell me about your big decision to launch your line! How did that start? How has the process been? How have you done research to get the best fabrics, and how has your experience sourcing and sewing been? 

MB: To continue on from the question above, once I had seen this documentary I knew I wanted to make a change somehow. I was also in the middle of a move and was going through my closet and realized that a large part of my closet was made from polyester or Nylon (which are both plastic-based fabrics made from petroleum). I was also starting to get into holistic healthcare and natural beauty (there were a LOT of changes to my life during this time!) and it just didn't sit right with me that while we're making great advances in beauty and skincare, we're still dressing ourselves in synthetics, which also touch our skin—especially when we workout. 

I decided to take classes at FIT because they have a Sustainable Design Entrepreneurs certificate so I could learn more. I started connecting with people there and realizing that despite my background being in Finance, I was totally capable of creating a better product for the athleticwear market. I finally decided to commit this last spring and joined Factory45—an online accelerator program for entrepreneurs who want to start a sustainable fashion line.

AIW: What are the main ways you will implement sustainability into your clothes and brand? 

MB: I'm most interested in the materials we use. Nowadays SO much of what we wear is made with polyester, which was invented as a cheap synthetic alternative to natural fibers. There are many issues with polyester but some of the main being it's made from non-renewable crude oil, it’s manufactured in a non-environmentally friendly way, and it's coated in chemicals to give it the specialized properties that we seek for certain clothing. I did a ton of research on fabric options and eventually decided to work with Tencel—it's an amazing fabric that's renewable, plant-based, and much better for our skin. One other part that's been important for me to ensure I implement is ethics. I've decided to manufacture everything in NYC for a few reasons, but to ensure that I'm paying a fair wage and to be able to have a personal relationship with the people making the clothing.

source: instagram.com/repriseactivewear

AIW: In what ways are you still unable to be sustainable? 

MB: I'd love to start exploring more sustainable fabric dye technologies, but a lot of the challenges come down to scale and cost justification. It's tough when you're just starting out because things are twice as expensive when you're only producing 100 instead of 1,000+ for example.  I'm also hoping that there will be more eco-friendly spandex options available on the market soon because it's very hard to create leggings that support you without it, but it's not a very sustainable material to work with. 

AIW: Which companies do you most admire—and are you able to shop from them? 

MB: Reformation is a company I really look up to and try to emulate in everything that I do when developing Reprise. I love that they've made sustainable fashion really cool, while challenging the consumer's idea of what sustainable fashion looks like. I love everything they create and end up buying a lot of it on Poshmark to help with the higher price point of their items. I also love this company called Vetta—they're another product of the Factory45 program mentioned above—and they create these beautiful pieces to form a capsule wardrobe. I love the idea that you just have to own 5 pieces but could create 15 very different outfits from them.

AIW: What are some of your favorite hacks for living a more green lifestyle? 

MB: I try to find things that are really easy to implement so that I can seamlessly transition as I'm super busy these days! Things like my set of metal silverware that I bring with me to work and the compost bin that is along my daily commute help me incorporate green practices, without really any effort. I also really look up to Lauren Singer from 'Trash is for Tossers' and always look to her for inspiration for my next sustainable habit.

AIW: What are the biggest challenges you are facing as a designer trying to be conscious in her design and production process?  

MB: I have the issue that I want to fix every problem. For a long time I debated whether or not to start a label because I knew I'd feel guilty if it wasn't made ethically, with sustainable/biodegradeable materials, dyed with non-toxic dyes, producing zero waste, using reusable shipping, etc. One of my teachers at FIT helped me realize that doing all of this wouldn't be possible if I wanted to have a profitable business and that it was best to stick to one, but keep aspirations to incorporate the rest over time. I really welcomed this advice and so I've chosen to focus on working with the best sustainable materials as possible and producing locally in New York as ethical production and non-toxic materials are the two issues I'm most passionate about.

xo Mary. You inspire us and we can’t wait for the launch of Reprise. 

[cosplay-hours]

Hello, I'm Moon! I'm a Demigirl and I go by Sher/Her, He/Him, They/Them, and Ne/Nym/Nis/Nis/Nymself Pronouns! I'm excited to make friends in the Cosplay community! I'm new to Cosplay and I'm hoping to learn, and I'm always looking for advice! Also, I'm from the South so I say "Y'all" a lot.

I'm 18, I Like making OCs and sewing without a machine, I'm nice like 98% of the time (I'll get to that), I tend to randomly capitalize letters due to one of my disabilities (I'll get into that too, and Idk which one it is), I'll sometimes use caps for emphasis, and I sometimes misspell stuff and don't notice, So PLEASE don't Mock me for it. I also like Vocaloid, Smg4 (Only specific parts though, like Four characters and my AUs I've made for it), My OCs, Creating stories (most of which I never actually write or anything and just make up in my head), Digitally drawing, painting and Sewing!

Also, And this is all diagnosed stuff by doctors, I'm autistic and also have ADHD, epilepsy, I THINK My Mom has said that I have been diagnosed with OCD but I'm not 100% sure on that since I never saw the paperwork, and I have an anxiety disorder. I also have slight anger issues sometimes, so Please be wary of that, I have it under control most of the time, but if I say something nasty and/or yell PLEASE don't take it to heart, I don't mean it and I'm usually so frustrated at that moment from other stuff that I end up taking it out in an unhealthy way by talking it out on someone else, and I'm trying my best not to but please don't get angry or take it to heart.

Tysm for reading, and I hope Y'all enjoy my blog!

[peacebeuponhim786]

Sayyiduna Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ passed away from this physical world on the 21st of Ramadan from the severe injury caused by the attack on him. He passed away at the age of 63. Whatever you can read today gift it to Imam Ali Sher e khud كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ💙 #AlMurtaza #ShaheMardan #21stRamadhan . HIS CHARACTER: The life of Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ was a beautiful example of good character. It is stated that even though he was blessed with an exalted status, he never showed himself to be above others. He always lived a very simple and humble life. He also helped with the household chores. He would often be seen sewing a patch in his torn clothing. Even when the Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم had commanded the Suhaba (companions) to dig a trench, Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ worked like an ordinary labourer.💙 . HIS KINDNESS AND GENEROSITY: He was a very kind and generous personality. He never caused pain to anyone. Even if someone committed an error, he explained to him with great kindness and love. Hadrat Abu Dhar Ghaffari رضي الله ﺗﻌﺎﻟﯽٰ عنه says, “Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ was very exalted, brave, Truthful, soft hearted and kind. The desire to help the poor flowed in him like the huge waves of the sea. He used to travel far away from home, to assist the sick, old, poor, orphans, crippled and downtrodden.”💙 His Bravery and the “Dhulfiqar”🗡 . Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ was a very brave man. He participated in almost all the battles against the non-believers during the time of the Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم. The stories of his bravery are famous in history.💙 . . In the first battle of Islam at Badr, he was holding the flag of Islamic army. When three famous warriors of Quraish challenged the Muslims, according to Arab tradition, Hadrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ along with Hadrat Hamzah and Abu Ubaidah رضي الله ﺗﻌﺎﻟﯽٰ عنهم accepted the challenge. He killed his opponent, Walid only with one thrust of his sword and cut him in two pieces. Then he helped Hadrat Abu Ubaidah رضي الله ﺗﻌﺎﻟﯽٰ عنه to kill the next Quraishi warrior.💙 . . In the battle of Uhud when Hadrat Mus’ab bin ‘Umair, the bearer of the Islamic standard, was martyred, it was Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ who held it up. Seeing this one of the non-believers, Abu Sa’d challenged him. Hazrat Ali attacked him and he fell down on the ground naked. Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ felt pity on him and left him in that condition.💙 . . In the battle of the Trench, all-Arabia fame warrior, ‘Abdwood challenged the Muslims after jumping on his horse across the trench. Nobody dared to accept his challenge except Ali. The Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم warned Ali about ‘Abdwood but Ali insisted on going and fighting with him. Then the Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم gave him his famous sword “Dhulfiqar” and put a turban on his head before he went to fight with ‘Abdwood. A few minutes later people saw ‘Abdwood’s head was cut off from his body by Ali.💙 The title of Asadullah because of his bravely Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ was popularly called “Asadullah”(The Lion of Allah). . In the battle of Khaibar against Jews, the Muslims tried to conquer the strongest Jewish fort, Qumus, but were not successful in the beginning. Then the Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم said, “I will give the command and the standard tomorrow to such a brave person who loves Allah and His Prophet and whom Allah and His Prophet love. Everybody was desiring to be that fortunate man. The people were rather surprised when the next morning the Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم called Ali who was sick and his eyes were sore. The Holy Prophet applied his finger, wet with his saliva, over the eyes of Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ. and they were cured immediately. Then he gave the standard, and advised him. “First of all call them towards Islam. Even if one man is guided towards Islam because of you, it would be better than red camels.”💙 . . Following the advice of the Holy Prophet صلى الله عليه وآله وسلم Hazrat Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ invited the Jews towards Islam. Instead of accepting the Right Path they sent their commander Marhab, the great warrior of Arabia and one of the bravest men of his time. He challenged Hadrat Ali to fight. Ali كَرَّمَ اللَّهُ وَجْهَهُ accepted the challenge and slew him in one attack. His famous sword cut Marhab’s body into two pieces. 💙 . . He showed great bravery in each and every battle he fought and earned fame. He was counted as one of the great warriors of Arabia.💙

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A bag of stature and mystery.  I am SHER LOCKED. She is made with high quality cotton and cork fabrics.

This bag is spacious and ready for whatever you have to put in it.

Measures

12 inches wide

11 inches tall

6 inches deep

Pattern credits Swoon Sewing Patterns

SHER LOCKED Tote Bag A bag of stature and mystery.  I am SHER LOCKED. She is made with high quality cotton and cork fabrics.