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tojiphile · 8 months

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summary. for years you tormented tendou satori. now, the two of you reunite at a host club where it seems like the tables have turned.

cw/ tw. f!reader, prostitution, humiliation, shoe-humping, degradation, spit, bullying, revenge, slapping, manhandling, hair-pulling, dubcon?

“oh, how the mighty have fallen.” tendou croons, rough thumb stroking your cheek as he grips your chin, forcing your lips into a pout. you want to run, but you can see your boss at the corner of your eye, watching you closely. if you lost this job, you’d truly have no where else to go.

every shift, you wonder how you could have let yourself sink this low.

tonight, you had swayed your hips, strutting about the club in your uniform. the low-cut, tight fabric clung onto your skin, sticky with sweat from the time spent grinding against old and eager men to get some of their spare change.

you felt obscenely lewd. your top, that could hardly be classified as a top, exposed your midriff. what you once thought was a respite for cool air though, you soon learnt was a devil in disguise. dark bruises littered your waist, exposing all the places where paying clients had grabbed you, heartlessly passing you around to be shared.

you had never been a good girl, barely scraping through school, but you prided yourself on your charisma. you were always popular. after classes, you had boys lining up in the halls to give you gifts, only to be rudely dismissed should they have brought you anything other than your favourites.

teachers weren’t safe from your charm either, and you were always willing to put on a show or more just for a passing grade. the only time you ever lowered your head was when you were on your knees, buttons popped open and skirt messily discarded, with your teacher’s cock resting heavy on your tongue.

safe to say, you were hardly kind.

cruel, instead, might be the right word. stone cold eyes staring down the girls that you tripped over in the halls, laughing as their skirts flipped over, exposing their panties.

your favourite targets through, were the lanky, ugly, friendless boys—the ones with nothing to live for and no one to love them. you’d spend your lunch periods forcing them on their hands and knees, using them as feet rests while you and your friends hated on them right in their faces.

tendou satori was your favourite victim. he fit every criteria perfectly, and no one ever stopped you because he was practically begging to be bullied. his obnoxious taunts caused everyone to dislike him—you were just doing the world a favour by making him shut up.

no, you were not a good girl.

when you dropped out of college, it was only to be expected. your parents had always expressed disappointment in how you turned out, but you turned a blind eye. who cared when you had everything?

but their disappointment turned to anger after you began to bring men and women alike back, keeping your parents sleepless in their own home. when they decided to kick you out of the house, you didn’t care. you had your friends—all the girls that wanted to be you, and all the boys that wanted to be with you.

but you were forced to learn that a lot had changed since graduation. girls that were once your loyal dogs had moved on to bigger and better things, sick of your dirt poor treatment. boys that were once begging for your attention had found other girls to obsess over.

“sorry.” they all said, not really sorry.

a harsh slap brings you back to reality, back to the nightclub where you are untimely reunited with the boy you used to bully.

you and tendou both changed a lot. but while your harsh words were replaced with faux smiles, his ugly jeans were replaced with fine yarn. adorned in a black suit, the man in front of you exudes luxury.

he gives you a saccharine smile, letting your face slip from his grip, “long time no see.”

you straighten your back, patting down what little fabric covered yourself, and clear your throat. you know that if you were oh so lucky, this might be it. if tendou was an ounce more forgiving, you might be let go with an awkward wave of a hand and a request for a different waitstaff. if he didn’t hate your guts now as much as you hated him then, you might be released to mourn your bad behaviour.

but alas, it seemed as if tendou had different plans. shooting you an unfeeling smile and telling the group of people he came with to “give him a moment”, tendou stands up, placing a warm hand on the small of your back, and leads you towards the back exit.

standing there is your boss, who you give a weak smile, internally begging him to notice something was wrong. but if he did, he made no move to show it, only grunting as he accepted the crumpled note tendou threw him, opening the door and letting you both out into the dark of the night.

you hardly notice he hasn’t said a word, too caught up in your own thoughts. as the door slams shut behind you, you’re resigned to your fate. you step away from him briefly, wanting to save some pride by cursing him out one last time, but you are pulled back by a rough hand that grabs your elbow, slamming you into the wall.

you groan in pain at the impact, but tendou doesn’t seem to care. why should he? you had done so much worse, and now, it was time for payback.

he has to lean down slightly, but tendou’s face presses close to yours, his eyes wide with a gaze both animalistic and sinister. his lips curl as he reaches up your short skirt to tug your panties down, two coarse fingers shoved in your core. it’s a tight fit, but you’re used to men being rough. you bite your lip. he’s going to have to do a lot more if he wants to hurt you.

he seems to have got the message quickly, slipping his other hand into your top, tearing away your pathetic excuse of a bra. “i knew you were a filthy cockslut,” he snarls into your ear, fingers toying with your sensitive nubs, “but i never thought i would have the chance to fuck you.”

you struggle, but between the concrete wall and tendou, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“fuck you.” you spit, trying your best to avoid complete and utter humiliation.

the calloused hand playing with your tits moves to coil around your back, pulling you closer and forcing you against his hardening cock. he laughs cruelly, mockingly replying, “don’t worry, i will.”

you feel yourself flush, unable to think of a response before he continues, in that same taunting voice that caused you to despise him years ago, “i paid for you. tonight, you’re here to serve me.”

another long finger forces its way into you, extracting milky strands that has your heart thumping against your chest. he continues, beginning to scissor you with his fingers, stretching your cunt, prepping you for his cock.

“you’ve always been such a fucking whore,” he drawls as your cunt clenches around his fingers, “you’re clearly enjoying this.” he presses his thumb on your clit, moving in slow circles. you can feel the warmth growing in your stomach. a low growl escapes your lips, and tendou only scoffs, fingers moving faster.

soon, your eyelids flutter shut. tendou is good with his fingers, and you start to find pride a silly thing to worry about as you’re oh so deliciously close. but just as you’re about to cum, he pulls away mercilessly, leaving you empty. your body betrays you as it leans into his touch, following his fingers.

“squat.” he instructs you.

you tilt your head in confusion. perhaps he meant to kneel? but as your right knee touches the rough floor, tendou hoists you up by your top, hissing into your ears, “can’t you follow simple instructions? are you that fucking stupid?” he throws you back, and you draw in a sharp breath as you scrape your hands breaking your fall.

“squat.” tendou repeats, louder, as if challenging your intelligence. you remember again why you hated him, but do so anyway. you feel the cool air against your warm cunt, shivering at the thought of how vulnerable you seem now.

“look at me,” he commands, and you look up, eyes meeting his. he towers over you, blood red eyes hazy with lust. his black suit is hardly disheveled, a stark comparison to you. your skirt is hoisted up, and your panties are hung carelessly around your ankles, as if they could slip off at any moment.

you realise how exposed you are, and how clothed tendou is. you are completely at his mercy.

your bra was messily discarded after tendou had ripped it off you minutes ago, and your top was quick to go too, as tendou reaches down and pulls it over your head.

you have half the mind to tell him to watch the hair, but when he grabs a fistful of it, you know he’d hardly care.

tendou moves you over by your hair to reach the base of his shoes.

“kiss it.”

you sputter. the memories of all the times you had forced him to kiss your feet came rushing back, but they were short-lived as he pushes your head down, causing you to lose balance and land face first on his leather shoes.

“go on now.”

you can feel his eyes on you, and you want nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. fuck, was this how he felt? you felt so utterly humiliated, a toy just for him to play with.

you press a chaste kiss on tendou’s shoe, and he hums in satisfaction. his grip on your hair doesn’t falter, but he lets out a low chuckle, “you’re learning so quick. if only i knew this back then...”

you gasp as you feel his shoe press against your leaking cunt, rubbing at your clit with the tip of his shoe. it feels surprisingly good, and you allow yourself to move in rhythm with tendou, getting yourself off on his shoe.

his movement suddenly stops, and he forces you to look up at him.

“hump yourself.”

your cheeks burn. it was one thing to let him use you and another to move with him, but humping yourself is succumbing to him—admitting that he won, admitting that you lost.

tendou can sense your hesitation, growing more impatient, “i don’t have all night. do you want your fucking tip later or not?”

you relent, shutting your eyes and start moving. you press your cunt against the cool leather, covering it with your slick as you start to ride his shoe. your cheeks are burning, and you focused your gaze from the little piece of gum stuck on the sideway.

“fucking look at me,” he growls, “i want you to look me in the eyes as you fuck yourself on my shoe.”

he pulls your hair up, and look up to see him staring down at you, eyes ablaze. you grew frantic, embarrassment turning into lust, spurring you on and causing you to move faster.

you need to relieve the ache in your lower belly, unable to hold back a moan as tendou lifts you by your hair, dragging you up to press you against the wall, nipples hardening at the touch of the rough surface.

unzipping his pants, tendou’s thick cock springs free, resting heavy against his stomach, head leaking with precum. he licks his lips, aligning the tip of his shaft with your puffy pussy, and gives you no time to adjust as he bottoms out, forcing himself deftly against your cervix.

you cry out as pain shoots through your body. the disgustingly pornography noises you make only spurs him on. thrusting into you harshly, he admires your wet cunt contracting around him so tightly, as if trying to push him out.

it turns him on, you, close to naked in front of him, crying at his touch. tendou gives you no mercy as he pounds into you, fucking you like a sex doll.

“you like this? the boy you tortured stretching out your filthy hole? pathetic.” he spits on your back, but you were too fucked out to formulate a reply.

“yeah, that’s fuckin’ right, you’re nothing,” even while pussy drunk, the words spill out of his mouth effortlessly, everything he’s wanted to say over the last decade of his life, “goddamn slut, you’re a disgusting fuckin’ human, i’m gonna clean you with my fuckin’ cum.”

you start toying with your own clit, grinding against him as he bullied your hole relentlessly. “t-tendou, i’m close!” you gasp, legs struggling to support your own weight.

“cum for me.”

you cry out as waves of pleasure overwhelm you, sending electricity throughout your body. your legs can’t handle it anymore, and you collapse onto the asphalt. tendou doesn’t seem to mind, fucking himself with his fist.

you gaze up at him, eyes and mind hazy as he brings himself close to the edge. he moves to stand over your face.

“open wide~” a sing-songy voice taunts you, but you obey anyway, too tired to fathom otherwise. he explodes over your face as he aims the salty streaks of white into your awaiting mouth. out of instinct, you swallow.

he scoffs, and you lay on the ground, too tired to move as he buttons his pants. redressed, he grabs a cigarette and lights it, taking a puff.

“oh!” tendou exclaims, forgetting something. he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, tossing a couple hundred-dollar bills onto your face. they stick onto your skin because of his cum, still not dry.

“your tip. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

#tojiphile #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tendou satori x reader #shiratorizawa #tendou satori smut #smut blog #tendou satori x you #haikyuu

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freshstitches · 1 month

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Last month, Sixth & Spring publishing reached out to me to review the new Short-row Colorwork Knitting book by Woolly Wormhead. Woolly is best known for designing clever hat patterns that employ the use of short-rows to create dynamic shapes in colorwork. I've never made one of her patterns, but have long appreciated them as a sort of brain teaser. Each one seems to fit together like a puzzle of yarn. I've now spent a month with this book, reading through it and using it as a textbook to learn Woolly's signature short row technique.

The cover of the book has a frosted glass feel, which I think is nicer than a glossy cover. Three of the brightly colored stitch patterns are displayed along with the title. The book contains 50 stitch patterns and 10 projects. The yarn for the publication was provided by malabrigo so every stitch pattern is shown in beautiful tonal yarn. I also noticed a stitch key on the inside of the flap of the cover that folds out so you can look at it when you're working on a pattern. I love the consideration for the reader and the functionality.

This book is written like a workbook, it starts by giving you all the tools that you need to use to knit the stitch patterns then use them in your own projects. The first few chapters explain the short-row colorwork fabric, the chart system, ways of altering the motifs in the book and color theory. I was not left with any questions about the instructions. The next section of the book contains tutorials teaching the basics of short row knitting, the skills that are needed to complete the patterns are shown with photos. There's even a photo tutorial on knitting backwards - a huge time saver. It seems like Woolly and I have the same party trick.

Next, I tried making a few of the stitch patterns with my new skills. The chart system was intuitive. The first swatch is the Sine Stripes pattern. The swatch in the book showed a selvedge, which I added on my swatch as well. Next, I tried making the Anemones motif. I did not add a selvedge this time, but felt confident using the lessons to shift the placement of the short rows. None of the short rows were changed,I just cast on extra stitches and practiced moving the motifs. I did not have a chance to try any of the "repeatable" stitch patterns yet which can be used in the round as well as flat. The majority of the book is spent on these adaptable stitches.

I didn't have time to try any of the projects, but noticed a good mix of different accessories. I appreciate the inclusion of multiple designers showing different perspectives and approaches to the Short-row Colorwork technique. The final chapter of the book explains different design considerations, inviting the reader to actually use the stitch dictionary portion of the text for their own applications. The properties of some of these stitches are unique and the lessons are helpful and explaining all different scenarios that may come up.

I always intended to get this book, and it definitely lived up to my expectations. It's incredibly thorough without becoming overwhelming. If you enjoy learning new things, this is a great purchase. It's currently available for pre-order and will be available in the US on April 16th and in the UK on May 14th. More info is available on Woolly's website. And you can preorder a copy of the book on Amazon.

#knitting #yarn #woolly wormhead #short row colorwork knitting #book review #crafts #colorwork

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roboticchibitan · 1 year

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I see a lot of memes about refusing to knit gauge swatches and they hurt my heart a little bit. Like. I get it I've been there. But you're actively working against your own interests. Please just knit a swatch.

@tattinglacework said in the tags of my post about yarn substitution that a gauge swatch is the knitting/crochet equivalent of "measure twice cut once" and I'm stealing it forever now because it's so true. I've had to frog weeks worth of work because I needed to go up two needle sizes and I didn't do a swatch. But it was better than having a finished shawl that was way too small to be useful.

And listen, eventually if you keep refusing to do swatches and being all "teehee I'm such a rebel" about it, you're going to come to a project that you're super excited about, really looking forward to, spend time planning, maybe even buy really nice yarn for it... and you hate the finished product and never use it. Which makes all that work a waste of time.

I know it seems like knitting a swatch is a waste of time but knitting for a week only to have to frog it all is more of a waste of time than the hour I would've spent knitting a swatch. Even with cobweb lace knitting where a proper gauge swatch takes several hours (I've spent 10 hours on a gauge swatch before and I am glad I did cuz it saved my ass), it's a looooot better to knit for several hours and know the next 100 hours will not have been in vain.

A swatch can also help you see whether you like how that yarn works up, and can give you an idea of how that yarn drapes and works up. This is important if you are knitting with a different fiber yarn than what the pattern calls for. Some fibers have a lot more stretch than others. Wool is nice and stretchy but silk is not. Cotton isn't very stretchy. Acrylic stretches and drapes differently than wool or cotton. A swatch will tell you if a fiber is suitable for a pattern.

Some pattern swatches are stockinette stitch and some are in pattern, and an in pattern swatch is going to tell you a LOT about how that yarn will work with that pattern. For example: I like to buy the occasional indie dyed yarn that's got pops of color and multiple colors per skein. But those yarns are hard to find patterns for because the color change/variegation is so quick that it ends up being very busy fabric. A gauge swatch in pattern will tell me if a pattern will show well or get lost in the variegation. Indie dyed yarn is expensive and I am poor so I want to make something I actually like, is the right size, and I will actually use because looking at it doesn't make me miserable.

I'm begging you, just make a swatch. At worst you've lost a little bit of time confirming your needle and yarn choices work for the pattern. At best, you're saving yourself from spending dozens of hours on something you'll never use because it didn't turn out the way you want, doesn't fit, and you hate looking at it now.

Also this is important and I've deeply regretted not doing it before: treat your finished swatch how you're going to treat the finished object. Block it if you're going to block the finished item and then unpin it and let it rest for a while (your swatch WILL lie to you if you do not) before taking any data from it. If you're not sure how a yarn is going to survive the wash, chuck your swatch in the washing machine to see! Better to felt a swatch than a pair of socks you just spent a week knitting.

I used to be very "no gauge swatch we die like men" so I Get It. I really do. But I have also been in the "didn't swatch, spent eighteen months and 3,000 beads on a project only to block it and have it be almost exactly a foot too small" boat and let me tell you that'll change you as a person. Just knit a swatch. It takes so much less time than being wrong does.

#please it's not hard #advice for new fiber artists #v's fiber arts tag #knitting #crochet

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

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God I really need random blurb of Pin to quench my fluff thirst of him (and ideas). Speaking of Pin, can he eat? like, can he munch down the foods or just straight up swallow everything like a black hole

[They do have a mouth technically - how they eat will remain a mystery. Here's a blurb with my favorite Yan doll and reader who likes to bake/throw parties]

"Sorry... I can't make it."

"Maybe next time?"

"I'm sure others will show."

If only they had let you know sooner.... Or at all.

You always took the smallest thing into accountability when planning. Work schedules, events with family, the weather. You found the perfect day when all of your friends should have been free and sent the invites out a week in advance on the cutest little cards you found on your last trip the supply store. A couple of them had excitedly messaged you about the party, gifting hope soon to be crushed as you sat alone at the dinner table piled with cakes and cookies, and all the other treats you had prepped for their arrival.

You guessed not every adult wanted to visit what was essentially a glorified tea party with no real reason to celebrate, but it would've been nice if they just said that instead of wasting your time and effort. You wouldn't feel as bad if they texted you beforehand, but as always you were left in the dark. They only wanted your skills when it meant something. You were who they called to cater for birthdays and engagement parties - what was the harm in gathering just to see each other?

It sucked, but at least you weren't completely alone.

"At least I still have you, Pin."

The doll's round eyes point down at the large slice of cake on their place, hands posed on either sides of the table. You used the left over ribbon from decorating to make a bow tucked into their hair, keeping their yarn locks parted from their smiling face. Frosted stained their stitched grin from the first time they'd fallen over when you seated them in their chair. It was nice to know someone appreciated your baking - even if they were made of cotton and fabric.

The first to arrive and the only one who stuck around in the end. You found them at the same supply store you bought all of your decorations, but sometimes it felt like they were the one who found you. The oversized almost squashed you when it came tumbling from another prop you'd been checking out. When you couldn't find a price tag and the store owner claimed to never have seen them before, they gave you a fair estimate and you went about your day with a new friend and roommate. Pin had always been there when your friends weren't. You had an entire album full of pictures of your many celebrations together and costumes to match. If there was anyone you could depend on to brighten your day - it was them.

"I'll never leave you!"

Your first smile of the day - all because of the scripted lines of a giant doll. "Thanks, Pin. Glad I can always count on you."

Detangling your fingers from the cord attached to their back, the string pulls once more as you yank your hand away.

"I'm all you'll ever need!"

Your smile falls. "You just might you're right about that.... Well, it's getting pretty late. I should start cleaning up. Enjoy your cake while I do, okay?"

You gather the empty plates and cups on the table, returning them to the cabinets with a heavy heart. Next time will be different. It has to be. You leave Pin in their seat as you change into something more comfortable. Their button eyes follow you from the reflection of a mirror on the wall. While changing, you wonder what to do with the leftovers since there's far too much to eat alone before it all spoils. Reentering the dining room, it would seen that wouldn't be as much of a problem as you thought.

Sprinkles and crumbles coat Pin's face as they hang slumped in their chair. The fork that was once in their hands lies on the floor and their fingers were covered in just as much frosting as their shirt. There was even some on that zipper on their chest you were never able to get down even with pliers. Where an entire cake once sat was now the final envelope from the invite cards you picked up earlier that week. Your name was written in bold lettering on its back along with a little drawing of the missing cake.

"Y/n! Thank you so for always inviting me to your wonderful parties and making me feel like I belong. I wish we could talk more, but I'm a little shy. Your cakes are so delicious, and I'm really sorry your friends didn't come, but that just means more for me! I'm sure they'll come around someday, but if not you know I'll always be around to cheer you up. I love love love you, and appreciate everything you do so please don't ever stop doing what you love.

Sincerely, Pin."

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere doll #Pin my oc #yandere imagines #yandere drabble

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 6 months

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Autumn with Foul Legacy HCs

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Genre: Fluff Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Warnings: Mentions of rain, thunder, and lightning

~ * ~ -Welcome to autumn!! That lovely season between summer and winter that keeps everything on track and in balance -Liyue is more of a temperate region, so often you can’t tell that summer has ended until autumn is already half over -But oh boy, when the weather changes, it CHANGES -One day it’s sunny and mild, the next day it’s pouring rain, you and Foul Legacy staring out the window in disbelief -He then nudges your shoulder, glancing from you to the rain and back again with a pleading expression. With a sigh you allow him to pull you back into bed, snuggling up to you with a happy chirp -Taking the first rainy autumn day off from work becomes a tradition for the two of you -And when it’s not pouring, walks outside the city are an absolute must! Liyue is a sight to behold in autumn, with the leaves turning vibrant colors and slowly falling from their branches- you and Legacy happily crunch many, many leaves underfoot, relishing the crispy crackling sound they make -It’s also harvest season, so there’s plenty of apples and other fruit growing from the trees for you to snack on -SPEAKING OF APPLES, you and Foul Legacy could harvest some to make cider, he is very enthusiastic when helping you!! Occasionally an apple will fall and bonk him on the head, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the chagrined trill he lets out -Warm drinks aplenty, especially during cooler days. You make tea, hot cocoa, the aforementioned cider- but not coffee. Never coffee. Have you ever seen an Abyss monster on caffeine? Do not give Foul Legacy coffee -You’ll curl up with these warm drinks together, cuddled under a blanket as you watch storms and wind from the safety of your home. Sometimes there’s thunder and lightning, and Legacy quickly hides under the covers and presses himself up to you with a slight shiver, but he slowly begins to purrs when you run your fingers through his hair, tense muscles loosening -The colder season also means thicker clothes, which means comfy sweaters!! You take great joy in wrapping yourself in cozy coats and scarves -Unfortunately shops don’t make sweaters in Legacy’s size, which he is very sad about :( So you decide to make one for him! It’s a deep blue color, made with yarn that has little silver threads in it so it glints when the fabric moves -He absolutely adores it, chittering in delight and running his claws delicately over the soft cloth before very carefully putting it on. Now he’s warm and comfy and so much better to lean your head against :) He treats that sweater like it’s made of gold -The nights also get chilly, so there’s a 95% chance you’ll end up with a moth in your arms and vice versa. Abyss creatures get cold (and lonely) too! -If you’re out for a walk and a particularly biting wind comes by, he’ll bury his face in your neck or put his claws against your warm stomach- he never admits how much he likes the startled shriek you let out -Occasionally it will start drizzling during your walk and you have to run home, getting to witness Legacy shaking out his wings and hissing in displeasure, pouting until you smile and give him a tight hug of reassurance -Autumn is the season of cooking and baking, and Foul Legacy LOVES peeking over your shoulder to see what delicious treat you’re working on. He’ll even dare to sneak a taste here and there, letting out low, rumbling laughs when you catch him in the act -You also make jam together!! There’s plenty of fresh berries growing, so you’ll pick some and preserve it in jars for the winter (Foul Legacy likes strawberry rhubarb) and the whole house smells DELICIOUS -He’ll keep any pretty leaves he sees and give them to you as a gift :) And if you press and save them, he’ll be so incredibly happy

-Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows- a lot of rainstorms and thunder, honestly. Some days you have to sneak out of bed before Foul Legacy’s even awake, leaving only a gentle kiss on his forehead as you head to work while it’s still dark and raining -Those days are hard, having to file reports and attend meetings with your shoes soaking wet and sleep still in your eyes, because everyone at your job always wants something -But it’s alright, you can handle it, because you know that there’s someone waiting for you at home, someone curled up on the couch and looking at the window to try and catch sight of your figure walking back -And the moment you open that door, you’re scooped into his embrace, your Foul Legacy’s arms snaking around you and giving you a tender hug. You hug him back as your heart warms, the first smile of the day creeping onto your face when he carries you to his blanket nest for snuggles, so you can feel warm and toasty and happy again on this dreary autumn day

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prettycraft5 · 8 months

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Aroace sweater update

Yesterday I found the courage to soak the unfinished sweater with fabric softener to see if it would help with the yarn's scratchiness.

Here it is drying on my "blocking mats".

It's not pinned since I'm only interested in seeing if the yarn is going to soften.

I left it in the water for a 1 hour and a half or so. I'm not sure if I managed to rinse the softener completely out because the sweater was so HEAVY soaked in water.

This is the back, btw. You can see when I changed colours, especially in the sleeve on the right. I did the sleeves TAAT and they are still joined because I didn't finish casting them off (I worked half a row more than I should have so I need to rip back and fix it).

IF the softener has worked, I will cast off the sleeves and then cut between the white and light green section in the sleeves so I can knit there and make them longer (I finished the black yarn and don't want to buy another skein).

If the yarn hasn't softened, I'll try it again with hair conditioner.

If that doesn't work either I'll just sulk for a month and never buy Mondial yarn again :)

#aroace sweater #aroace #knitting #knitblr

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alienducky · 4 months

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Fire Emblem Three Houses Crochet Wyvern - attempt 1

I finally finished it! It's taken me since the end of March 2022 (on and off, I got sidetracked making Alligator Loki for a while) but my prototype wyvern is done

Wyvern is 123.5 inches / 10foot 3.5 inches / 313.69cm wingtip to wingtip, and 56 inches / 4 foot 6 inches / 142.24cm nose to tail tip, and roughly 6 lbs / 2.72 kg ish. So a chunky baby He was made out of aran weight yarn using a 5mm hook and for the most part is Tunisian knit stitch. His toes were done in Tunisian simple stitch, and I think I did his teeth in normal rounds?

And now I do a cut to save everyone's feeds from all the pictures I'm going to share ^_^

(For reference, here are two photos of the wyvern from in game)

First, a few more angles on wyvern, and then I'll point out things I want to change for the next one

He's a handsome lad, and very recognisable for what he's meant to be!

But he also could be improved. A lot

Example 1, I lined up wyverns nose and tail tip against the in game 3d model to see how close he was to being accurate. And, er. yeah.

To give myself credit, when I first started this back in March 2022, I was working out lengths and widths and general sizing from screenshots taken from examining units in Three Houses, where I traced the outline onto a sheet of paper to measure things and perspective makes things AWKWARD, ok? (As is having brain farts and not remembering that the ruler had metric on the other side of it, but shush, let's not mention that bit)

So the biggest thing to fix will be the scaling, if I can. I can definitely make the tail longer, the head shorter and thinner, the chest between the wings thinner, the wing sockets bulkier, and thanking all the stars, the wings get to be smaller too. By a LOT

The other major thing I want to do different/better is how the ridges along his back from nose to tail tip work.

While they do work on wyvern, they don't look as great as I think they potentially can? So I'm going to be doing double layers of crochet, sort of, to help give the sticky up bit of the overlapping ridges more definition, and hopefully make them look like the slightly thicker scaling they're meant to be. It'll also help to smooth them out, so they won't have the weird dips where I've joined one to the next

I'm going to do the wings differently too, because what I did with these ones was quite frankly awful? I cut each wing segment into individual pieces to then hem and flip inside out to over sew the visible edges, and then hemmed up the sides that went inside the struts to then sew the crocheted parts to the fabric. So the fabric was the cheese to the crochet bread in this awful, awful sandwich situation. I am also never, ever buying anything that is even vaguely silky or satiny or slippery ever again for anything

For the next one I'll keep the two pieces of wing fabric as one big piece, since the top and bottom of the wing membranes are actually slightly different colours if you look closely, but I'm going to cheat and use some of that iron on hemming tape stuff to fill the inside of the fabric after I've done all the outer hemming and over sewing so it'll kind of look like all the veins and stuff that the membranes have? So the fabric hopefully won't slip around so much, so will be easier to sew, and keeping it as one big piece means there's less change of me messing up the positioning of the struts on the panels because the wings on this one aren't equal despite my best efforts

Next is Claude's white wyvern, but it'll be made with DK yarn and either a 3.5 or 4mm hook, so it will (hopefully) come out significantly smaller than this one. And that one is going to get plastic boning/skeleton in it, so it'll be poseable!!!

#duckpond stuff #duckpond crochet #crochet wyvern #tunisian crochet #fe3h #fe3h wyvern

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aquilathefighter · 1 year

Text

Fluffbruary 24: Needle

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

To put it simply, getting used to mortal clothes was a pain for Dream. For all his life, his clothes were dreamstuff, as much a part of him as any other part of his manifestation. There was no difference between the fabric of his jacket and his skin. All one unified being.

Since his retirement, he no longer has the power to summon clothes with a thought. When he first moved in with Hob, he dragged him to department store after department store, trying on itchy denim and polyester that brought him to tears in the changing room.

At first Hob didn’t understand. Why was he so upset at clothes? Hob never had any problems; anything was better than the rough materials he wore once upon a time.

When they finally arrived home, Dream explained how painful all the different fabrics and textures were to his newly human skin.

“For so long, my clothing was part of me. I find most textures… unappealing to my skin. It brings me close to…” Dream trailed off, searching his memory for the appropriate word. “Close to a meltdown, I believe.”

“Ah, I understand now. It’s a sensory issue. Come to think of it, I’ve got a colleague who’s mentioned the same type of thing. Let me shoot her a text and see if she’s got any ideas, alright?”

Dream nodded his head minutely, then buried himself in the soft blanket on their bed. Underneath, he’s cloaked in Hob’s clothes, soft and worn from years of use. The t-shirt he’s borrowed is a gaudy yellow, the smiley face screen-print virtually gone. He tore the tag out after Hob told him it was his now. It’s too big for his frame, the sleeves hitting his elbows and the hem covering most of his thighs. He prefers not to wear trousers when he can. The material irritates the sensitive skin of his legs, and they feel too restrictive on his body. It would be nice to have his own clothes, though.

Hob came back into the room, holding two cups of tea. Dream poked an arm out of the blanket, grateful to accept the beverage. Hob sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Okay, she messaged me back a list of fabrics that are generally approved for folks with your same issues. I see two options: one, we go back to the shops and look at every single tag until we find the right material, or two, we head to the fabric store, and you pick out what you like. I’ll make you some clothes. I do know how to sew, did a stint as a tailor once.”

Dream stared at Hob, deciding. The store-bought clothing would perhaps mean less labor, but more time spent out in public with loud strangers, bad music over tinny speakers, and the relentless buzz of fluorescent lighting. On the other hand, he’d have more control over the homemade clothes, no itchy tags and clothing perfectly fit to his specifications. But he doesn’t like making Hob do so much work, the man is busy enough as it is.

“I should prefer the clothing you would make me, beloved. If it is not too much.”

Hob wrapped an arm around him, squeezing Dream to his shoulder. Dream dropped his head to rest against Hob’s comforting warmth.

“Of course it’s not too much, Dream. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to do it.” He pressed a kiss to Dream’s hair. “I want to do these things for you because I love you. I want you to have clothes that don’t make you want to put your head through a wall. And you don’t owe me anything in return, remember that.”

Dream nodded, trying to make himself believe it as hard as it is.

☆ ☆ ☆

They returned from the fabric store with several bags’ worth of fabric. All of it black, per Dream’s preference. They spread the cuts on the floor, sorting jersey from fleece, bamboo from linen. Piled alongside the material are skeins of yarn, lovely thin-weighted cashmere that Hob will knit into comfortable cardigans and seamless socks.

Dream has chosen several patterns that were to his preferences. Looser fits and elastic waists so he didn’t need to deal with the discomfort of buttons and zippers pressing against bare skin.

“It is a comfort that I will have much control over the fit of these garments,” Dream said when they were done organizing their haul.

“Glad to hear it, dove. I’ll have you try stuff on a bunch before it’s done. Hope that isn’t too annoying,” Hob chuckled, used to the complaints of clients.

“How could I find such a labor of love an annoyance?”

Hob blushed. “Dream, you can’t just say stuff like that. How-how am I supposed to work in these conditions,” he laughed.

“I will assure you that I will provide many breaks,” Dream said as he scooted closer to Hob on the couch. Hob relented to his advances, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Insatiable creature. I do want to get started on this tonight, so back off, foul tempter!” He nudged Dream as he hopped off the couch. “Hmm, shall we begin with this pattern?” he asked, holding up the package for a simple v neck shirt. Dream hummed in approval.

“Hop up, I gotta measure you. And be good, mister.”

Dream stood, staying still and patient as Hob manipulated the measuring tape about his body. Hob scribbled it all down in a fresh notebook that was to live next to the sewing table, which Hob had eagerly set up earlier in the day.

“All done! Why don’t you order us some take away while I get started cutting out the pattern?”

☆ ☆ ☆

While Dream headed down to meet the delivery driver outside, Hob began to set up the sewing machine. A fresh needle, new black thread loaded in the bobbin, the room awash in bright light so he could see in front of him. Hob had missed sewing with the machine. He would sew by hand on occasion, mending tears and quickly patching tears in his jeans, but the purr of the sewing machine was a different animal entirely. He been so excited when the first machines came out, you could make a new garment exponentially faster than ever before! People took it for granted these days. Hob preferred a simpler machine with just a few stitch settings, but still had an electric motor. He’s a man of modernity, after all.

Dream returned with the bag of food, tantalizing smells wafting through the door. Hob lifted up the presser foot and pulled the garment away from the machine, snipping the tails of thread with his tiny scissors. He held it up for Dream’s inspection.

“What do you think so far? I’ve only done one side and I’ve done the seam allowance as tiny as I can go.”

“Your skillset holds no bounds, Hob.” He gave a tiny smile, the kind that’s only for Hob’s eyes.

“High praise,” Hob grinned. “Now, what’d you get me?” He wiggles his fingers as he moves toward the table.

☆ ☆ ☆

Dream has become used to the rattling of the needle, up and down and up and down, interspersed by Hob humming or scolding the garment for not behaving or yelping when his thumb catches the end of a pin. The background noise is soothing as he goes about his day, reading or preparing a snack for Hob or working on his own projects. He’d expected it to be grating, like most machinery. But the sewing machine is not a screeching brake or rumbling jackhammer. It is a friend, a kindred spirit, another family member in the little home he and Hob have built for themselves. He is not jealous when it takes Hob’s attention, because Hob loves him. He is certain of this. And as his wardrobe has grown, he has felt the love in every stitch, every dart in his jackets, the neatly trimmed seams that don’t irritate his skin. Hob enjoyed creating these for him with nothing expected in return. Hob was pleased when he stopped insisting on doing something for him after every finished garment was handed over. He believed relationships were always an exchange until Hob. Until his labors of love and the friendly hum of a Singer.

#fluffbruary #dreamling #hob x dream #dream x hob #aquila writes #autistic!dream of the endless

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matenrou-fan · 1 year

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Wooooww! I'm in love with your work!

May I request Mad Trigger Crew with a female s/o who knows textile crafts (knitting, sewing, embroidering clothes and plushies) for the boys?

Mad Trigger Crew with a fem! s/o who knows textile crafts

ahhh you such a sweetheart!! thank you ^^

Femreader, fluff, just wholesome stuff;;

-Ooh. It's actually good that you know how to sew..

-Cause this man always gets into fights and often gets a small tear here or a bunch of holes there.

-He's a little bit ashamed to ask you to do this for him, but at the same time, seeing you working with such care on his T-shirt makes his heart tremble, as Samatoki can't look away from your elegant fingers.

-"Mm? Tear was too big so you made embroidery on it..?" - he looked at the fabric and noticed a small skull in place of the hole and couldn't help but blush a little. Samatoki chuckles, patting your head with a big smile. - "Haha, how cute you can be, s/o..! Always know how to make me smile.."

-Despite his wild unruly behavior he becomes so soft around you in private. Especially when it's evening, you two sitting together in his house as he watches you knit something. Samatoki really wants to lean to your shoulder or hug you at this moment but he is afraid he will interrupt your work so he just sits really close, almost breathing in your temple.

-If you turn to him you will see the softest loving gaze in his eyes as all this time he was admiring your concentrated face, you look so cute and adorable when working on something.. Samatoki just can't help but feel as his heartbeat becomes faster, tickling inside his chest.

-If you ever sew something for him he will wear it everywhere, bragging about how talented his girlfriend is. Well, except for work as he doesn't want to accidentally stain your present or get in a fight and tear it. After all, he would never forgive himself if anything will happen with things which you put so much effort into.

-"Just how did you always guess my size so well.." - he mumbled when you asked him to try another knitted sweater you made. His skin was wrapped in such warmth and softness, almost as if you were hugging him. It's good that this one has a high collar and Samatoki can hide his blushing face at least a little bit. - "Thanks, s/o.. I don't think I will ever find something more comfy and cozy than clothes from you.."

-Don't be shy to ask him about buying you something for your hobby, as he is always willing to support you. He really values people who're trying to improve themselves and develop their skills and he's glad you have such a passion.

-Samatoki is even willing to go to the store himself if you're too busy and he doesn't care how people will look at him while he takes pictures of everything and asks you on the phone if it is what you need. He probably ended up buying every yarn, mouline,

crochet hooks and other tools as just a little surprise for you.

-"Hm? What's with this face? So surprised?" - he smirks, looking at your widened eyes and light blush, enjoying your amusing reaction. You look at all these things and open your mouth but he interrupts you with a finger on your lips. - "Sh, don't ever try to tell me that this is too much. When it's about you, then there's no limit to things I'm ready to do.. Well, but I'm still waiting for a little reward, so what do you think?"

-It's really interesting for him.

-Jyuto himself is not that good at sewing as he always wears his clothes as carefully as he can. And when he actually gets a little tear it's easier for him to buy a new thing, he's not that cheap.

-But after you fix his shirt once, he changed his mind. What a miracle - all you did was sew a little hole but for some reason his shirt now feels different, it feels more.. comfy..? And every time he sits in his office, nervously looking through paperwork, he can't stop but touching this place with a fixed tear.

-"It almost feels like we're a married couple now, don't you think? You're fixing my clothes and everything, like a cute little wife.." - he can't help but tease you a little, laughing at your blushing embarrassed face. - "Mm? Why do you think it's just a joke? Maybe I am actually wondering about making you my wife~.."

-It just feels so nice, when somebody cares about him and his appearance. It's not like Jyuto is not used to attention, it just awakens some soft side in him, when he sees all your effort that you are ready to put in your work when doing something for him.

-"Ah, so you appreciate me so much, darling?" - he cooed, looking at the knitted scarf you made for him. Jyuto smirks as he admires how its colors will suit his spring coat greatly, you do have some sense in fashion... He put it on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of yarn on his cheeks. - "So soft and plush, and tickle my skin a little.. Almost like if your lips touched me, but it's not as good as a real kiss with you, angel. Or it is? Come closer, I need to check it out.."

-You just boost his ego, as he's really proud to have someone so precious near him, always willing to give him something so cute. And he's ready to return a favor, but in a little bit another way.

-He doesn't have any skills in textile crafts but he has enough time to google about it and find something useful that he can buy for you, maybe a new kind of yarn or something. Oh, and you mentioned earlier that your organizer for crochet hooks is broken now.

-Jyuto will also try to find some online knitting classes for you, as he can see how much you love to learn something new about your hobby. Of course the whole course was already paid for by him.

-"There's no need to thank me that much, s/o.." - he chuckles when you turn off your laptop and look at him with such a happy smile. - "But I would really appreciate it if you would gift me the results of your classes as a little reward, okay? I want to have a pleasant little memory for myself too.."

-He actually appreciates it very much.

-As a former soldier, Rio also knows how to sew and knit. There can be different situations and he should be prepared to sew up holes in his clothes or in a tent. So he is glad you also know this.

-Oh! But you use your skill not only for survival considerations, but as a hobby? He's a little bit curious now.

-"Mm, understand. This looks like it was done very carefully.." - he nods when you show him some photos of your works - "You have a great patience and imagination, those are good traits."

-Rio may look like he doesn't really care but he actually is, and when you give him a plushie, a soft teddy bear that kinda looks like him, you can clearly tell how happy he is. Slight blush appears on his cheeks and his face, always so calm, now lights up and lively sparkles playing in his bright blue eyes as he gets a closer look at your work.

-".. thank you.." - he gets down on one knee, holding a new toy close to his chest as his other arm takes your hand. He smiles softly, and puts all warmth and gratitude from his fast beating heart in a small kiss on your knuckles - "You're good with your hands, both in making such adorable things and in soothing me with your touches.."

-Now his new buddy is always sitting in his bed. Rio loves to lay down and squeeze this little plushie as the last thought in his head before he falls asleep is your precious face.

-But if you ever ask to sew some small tear in his clothes or something he will reject your help. Despite the fact that he really loves when you do something for him, even something small, this is the thing Rio would do himself as he doesn't want to bother you for such stupid reason.

-"You are always doing something, sewing or knitting.. So relax and don't worry, I will do it myself." - he said simply, taking off his jacket to fix a little hole. Well, maybe it's even good that he decided to do it himself as now you have a great opportunity to just sit back and enjoy a view of Rio's naked shoulders, as a tight red undershirt brings out his muscles.

-Oh, about clothes - he would be so glad if you would knit a sweater for him..! Sometimes it can be really cold here, in the forest, and he has a bunch of warm clothes, but something from you.. It would warm up not only his body but his heart too. Rio would have a hard time deciding if he should wear it everyday cause he really likes your sweater or as rare as he can so this beautiful gift may last long into the future.

-He doesn't mind learning something from you too. He is always trying to show you some of his pro tips for cooking and survival, so maybe it's time for him to listen to you, as you explain to him how to knit something. Rio is a great and fast learner, always listening carefully and watching all your moves.

-"Here, s/o.." - after a few days, when you visit his tent again, he will be standing here with a small smile and something in his arms. He got closer and gave you knitted green socks that looked really good for someone who's just starting. - "I thought I should give you something back too, as you always make me happy with your little presents..I love you, s/o.."

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libellule-ao3 · 5 months

Text

Life Links

15. Merula Snyde/The most powerful

Summary:

A quick reminder of the situation of the characters in the Circle of Khanna for those who have been waiting for the chapter since...

Beatrice Haywood and Liz Tuttle are in the Fidgi Islands. The latter is haunted by one of her predictions.

Chiara and Diego fled the country months ago and have found refuge in Deauville. After months of servitude, Penny Haywood joins them just before the Battle, along with Jae Kim, who is very worried about his long-time partner, Annie.

Attacked in Hogsmeade by a patrol of Death Eaters, Tulip has taken advantage of an opportunity to flee, leaving Charlie Weasley to his fate.

Badeea is dealing with the loss of her husband, Auror Talbott Winger.

After a final farewell to their respective loved ones, Aurors Tonks and Thorn are on their way to Hogwarts.

Barnaby Lee, a proven Death Eater, his actions proves that he has not yet severed the links that bind him to his former classmates As for Ben, he has joined Fenrir Greyback's pack and is attacking the Castle.

Today, we meet Merula and her mother, Luscinia Snyde, after Jacob and Penny's release.

Chapter index - previous chapter (Ben Copper) - next chapter (Rosmerta)

"Would you like biscuits with your tea, Madam...?"

Yes, Mother...

Merula accepts in a tone devoid of the worldly politeness that befits their circle and slumps inelegantly into one of the living room armchairs, exhausted from a too recent Cruciatus Curse. This is in stark contrast to her mother, who holds herself together with a righteousness so ingrained in her that even a decade of imprisonment has failed to hunch her.

“Oh, I forgot to buy biscuits,” the woman exclaims, tucking a thin strand of salt-and-pepper hair that has escaped back from her tight bun.

Merula waves her wand with exasperation. Cupboard doors open, a cascade of biscuit packets tumbles out. Luscinia Snyde* stares at the boxes on the floor without understanding.

She does not remember. She doesn’t remember buying biscuits this morning, yesterday, every day this week, and every day the week before.

“We can never have enough biscuits anyway!” decrees the former Death Eater with a sheepish smile.

"Isn’t that right Madame, er...?"

“Merula.”

Luscinia’s expression changes abruptly, as if the secret of her existence has just been revealed to her. Suspended from this look suddenly filled with unknown knowledge, a glimmer of hope threatens to melt Merula’s icy heart. Because Luscinia sometimes manages to recover a whole memory, following the mention of one tiny detail, like a thread of wool that is pulled out of a knitted fabric until the whole ball of yarn is reformed. Provided that this detail finds an echo in her bruised psyche, provided that the magic works.

“If I’d had a daughter, I would have given her the same name!”

A dagger in the heart... Again! Magic never works when it comes to the surly faced Curse-Breaker who inherited Luscinia’s formidable vocal abilities. The Dementors tore away every happy memory, whole swathes of happiness. They have plundered her memory so much that it is screwed up. Her mother is broken.

Today, Luscinia knows her head is sick, but she can’t use a wand or remember what she did this morning, or, most horribly, that she has a daughter. Nor does she remember Voldemort’s visits, the tortures in the cellars or her husband going to Hogwarts for the Final Battle. The good thing is that she won’t ask about the sleeping guards or the two missing prisoners.

Nevertheless, Merula is enraged. She grew up in this manor, alone, between the monthly visits of her aunt, who preferred to let a child face alone the threats of reprisals on her person rather than assume the education of a Death Eater’s daughter. Driven by vengeful ambition, the heiress has been striving to reach the heights of magical skill to deter the avengers, prove her worth, regain the respect she is due and surpass her entire lineage!

The escape of Death Eaters and Voldemort’s rise to power has turned everything upside down. However, although she denied it, Merula had hoped for a hint of parental recognition, but all she got from her mother was the distance reserved for strangers, and from her father, the indifference of a miserable Voldemort puppet.

Voldemort... It’s all his fault! He’s the gangrene! And Merula harbours a deep grudge against this deceitful half-blood hypocrite who stole her life! But to oppose him directly is to oppose the last remaining members of her family... The Curse-Breaker has never been able to bring herself to do that.Footsteps sound in the parqueted corridor. On the lookout, Merula stands up, wand in hand, while her mother collects the boxes of biscuits, oblivious to the looming threat. The hinges of the heavy oak door creak. A cold sweat runs down her spine and Jacob Thorn appears, waving a white scarf in peace.

The young woman slips away without a word. Out of sight, Luscinia Snyde will not remember her presence. Once the door closes behind her, the mask of civility falls off. Merula grabs Jacob by the collar, slams him against the wall and thrusts her wand into his jugular.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she spits fiercely.

“I came to get you,” he replies with the aplomb of a man used to her mood swings. “I got it all figured out.”

“Fuck! What took you so long?” she grumbles, her amethyst eyes blazing with anger and resentment.

In his eyes, Merula finds all the pleas for forgiveness he doesn’t make. He is far too proud of that. Fortunately! Jacob is not like his sister, who flattens herself at the slightest frown. Merula could never have fallen in love with a wimp!

“Come with me,”

Her snarl wavers, jostled by the surges of her heart torn between her insecurities and her convictions. The man takes the opportunity to brush aside the threat of her wand.

“Get out of your cage, Little Bird... I need you. To weaken Voldemort, Nagini must be shot.”

That last sentence shakes her. Jacob, the most secretive, independent guy in the whole of the UK, needs her. A certainty intoxicates her: if someone like Jacob believes in you, needs you, he gives you value and everything becomes possible! The whole world can be yours! With this thought alone, an incredible feeling of power secretly awakens in her.

“Of course! You’d never make it without me!” scoffs the Curse-Breaker. “Besides, without me, you’d still be naked in my basement!”

“I might never have gone there if you hadn’t sent me!”

“You would have preferred ‘death or insanity’ maybe?”

Jacob takes a few seconds to absorb what he has escaped, thanks to Merula. Then he scans her unblinkingly, waiting for her decision. He knows her well. He knows that she will use the slightest superfluous word to delay the inevitable. There is a tense silence between the most powerful former witch at Hogwarts and the only man she tolerates as her equal. Then a provocative smile emerges.

“Damn, Merula! The most powerful witch at Hogwarts is not going to hole up like a rat at such a crucial time! It’s a disgrace!”

A/N: *I named her mother Luscinia because that is the Latin name for birds of the nightingale family. Both blackbirds and nightingales are birds of melodious song, and Merula’s mother is known to be talented enough to be a member of the Frog Choir. Incidentally, I liked the little alliteration in Luscinia Snyde.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #merula snyde #ll fic #jacob thorn #hphm jacob

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elsewhereuniversity · 1 year

Note

Archivist, I'd like to request ownership of the third sewing kit. The colour changing thread will come in handy, and I have a few other thread-work related objects to make use of the rest of it quite well. In return, I offer a spool of red thread to start kit number four; stitched into clothing, it's quite visible no matter the colour of the fabric, but wrapped around a limb it's near imperceptible. Make of that what you will, but it's not the only spool I have. - Estien

Good news - or maybe terrible news, I don’t know - It’s yours!

Contents of the Crazed Sewing Kit III:

Silver thread-of-starlight

Chameleon thread which changes colors when held up to a color palette

Bright golden thread, hot to the touch but allegedly ‘worth it’

Translucent white thread which can sew itself, desires to be part of a garment, and resents any length of it at all being thrown away

A spool of thread which, on being cut, will immediately vanish all stitches and return to its unused form

Iridescent thread of summer rains

Thread of long black hair, in the process of melting

An endless ball of yarn

Crimson ribbon which will show a safe path forward

A copper needle, through the eye of which one can always view a facsimile of the sun

The pins and needles from a lap full of sleeping cat

A half-dozen silver needles so thin and piercing as to be invisible unless the light hits them just right

A needle which ensures nothing it is used to stitch together will ever, ever part again

A needle always threaded just enough in just the right color to finish the seam and match the project

A needle of what is apparently snow leopard ivory

A thousand pins wrapped up in a scarf, once used to hold things close to the heart

Two weaving tablets of chimera bone, which lend impossible colors to what is woven upon them

A hedgehog-shaped pin cushion I have been calling Gladys, who has a tendency to wander out of reach and drop pins everywhere. However, if you can catch her, the right pin or needle always first to the touch. I’d recommend a terrarium or something

A pincushion of a little mascot character, jarringly enthusiastic

The dice from several magic eight balls, strung together like beads or buttons

A mason jar of buttons, which will always have the right button, but only once you’ve search to the point where you’re about to give up

A dragon-forged thimble, especially advisable with the Very Thin Needles above

Skissors which never dull, and gild the edges of what they cut, but which will curse you if you don’t pronounce their name right

Silver shears in the shape of a heron, which will always cut true

Quilter’s tape of leather, marked with a script that can only be read when it’s in use

#the crazed sewing kit iii #congratulations #or condolences #whichever #best of luck above all

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 10 months

Text

1 2 3 (can also be read as a standalone)

my awesome steve playlist ; Ao3

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. the beginnings of a beautiful friendship and shitting on the school dress code)

Steve has always been fascinated by the act of creating.

His father is a very strict and traditional man. Everything has a specific way it ought to be, and anything that deviates from this fixed set of beliefs is simply wrong. (No, don't go into the kitchen, Stephen. Why do you need so long to get ready, Stephen. This type of music isn't fit for a Harrington, Stephen.)

He finds it kind of ironic. According to the bible, Eve was created from Adam's rib. And yet, according to his father, it is only the woman that creates. It is the woman who creates homemade meals for the rest of the family. It is the woman who creates tales and stories to put the children to sleep. It is the woman who creates patterns and fabric and clothing out of loose textiles and yarn.

Steve isn't completely sure what the man is supposed to do. When his father is home, he mostly disappears in his study or watches TV. (Steve finds it kind of sad)

He supposes he should be grateful that his father is always so eager to leave. Maybe he would have convinced Steve of this trist world he seems to live in if he had had more time to whisper it into his ears. But as things are, Steve loves to create. It soothes something deep in his soul to watch his weird little trauma-bonded ragtag group of kids engorge themselves on a meal that he created. (And Hopper. Nobody appreciates his cooking more than Hopper.) It makes him feel in peace with himself to start his day by fertilizing and watering and occasionally repotting his plants. (The Golden Girls seem to be particularly effective in that regard). It makes him feel accomplished to see his babies thriving and growing, a visible proof of being needed. It makes him feel more comfortable in his own skin to be able to create a more genuine version of himself - with his face as his canvas - one he can somewhat recognize in the mirror.

He'd like to say that he managed to free himself of most prejudices his father somewhat attempted to breed into him by the time he is slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy! . (To say that his father tried his hardest when it came to anything regarding his family would be a gross overstatement.)

Steve had not been a good student.

First he threw meaningless party after meaningless party in an attempt to fill all the empty space his parents left behind.

Then he got together with Nancy, and he had never studied more. Which would've been great, if something about her learning style didn't just refuse to work with him. All the stupid facts he needed to know just didn't want to get into his head (he was trying, okay?! He tried to explain it to Nancy when she said that he was smart and just had to "apply himself more". But "this is just too boring" sounds like a weak excuse even to his own ears. And he really tries to be less lazy, everyone else seems to manage it just fine, but he just can't do it.

He leaned into it after a while. Pretended to be more dumb and oblivious and obtuse than he really is. Because then it wouldn't be his fault. It would be something outside of his control. Bad genes or just rotten luck.

It hurt a bit, how easily people believed him. And you know what they say, if you hear something often enough....)

And after that he was a bit too busy being terrified 24/7 and trying to deal with the aftermath of multiple concussions on his own. He was honestly surprised that he actually managed to graduate, half-expected to become another Eddie Munson.

That is all to say that you really don't have to be fucking Einstein to realize that skimpy sailor clothing that barely manages to cover your butt does not mesh well with ice cream that needs to be kept in negative temperatures at all times. But Scoops Ahoy! would need to actually care about its employees to change something about it, which - especially with communists and socialists and whatnot hiding in every corner wanting nothing more than to destroy America or something - was not very likely. To say the least.

One day Steve wakes up with a running nose and an itch in the back of his throat. It is not enough to call in sick, but it is enough for him to think fuck it and bundle up in a scarf and a cashmere jacket that actually belongs to his mother (it is ridiculously soft and it matches to the rest of the outfit so leave him alone, okay?!). As long as he is still wearing the stupid sailor's hat management can't complain.

Or that is what he thinks. Until his boss decides that today of all days is a great day to go to the mall, another jackass (that he is going to kill very slowly and painfully) loudly complains about the extra layers (THAT HE IS WEARING SO HE WON'T BECOME SICK AND THUS BE ABLE TO WORK MORE?!), and boss takes that as his cue to stomp into Scoops and loudly lecture him about "branding" and "marketability" and "wasted assets". Of course the universe decides that right now is not the absolutely perfect time to make a Demogorgon appear that releases everyone present from their misery. He barely has left the shop again when Robin is already laughing so hard she has to take her break earlier.

The next time he looks at the damned board there is another point under the "you suck" column. He argues that he should get one in the "you rule" category simply because someone looked at him in this horrible horrible uniform and thought that hiding all this was enough of a crime to literally complain to his boss. He must be a truly pitiful sight because she eventually relents.

Here is the thing about Robin. She is funny. She is snarky. She knew who he was in Highschool - hell, she was part of the group he used to terrorize for no reason - but she doesn't hold it against him. Sure, she will make fun of him and the "you suck" - game (which he insists should be renamed to the "you rule" - game) certainly wasn't his idea. But it doesn't feel angry or malicious. At least not anymore. Sure, her only way of communication seems to be bad jokes at his expense and she doesn't really notice when she occasionally crosses a line. But it still somehow feels like she is laughing with and not at him. (Maybe it helps that she makes self-deprecating jokes about herself as well.)

But the best part is how he doesn't disappoint her. You can't let someone down who has no expectations in you on the first place, though she manages it in a way that doesn't feel like a weight in his chest like it does with his parents.

He loves Nance (even though he thinks he is finally starting to fall out of love with her), but she never quite could hide her disappointment when weeks of studying together ended up in an average grade at best. And the little shitheads, god bless them. He knows they don't do it on purpose and that he is just being too sensitive, especially because he himself does nothing to convince them of the opposite, but it kind of stings when literal newborns who will probably get scholarships to ivy league in the future keep calling him stupid. It is, admittedly, pretty demeaning.

With Robin, there is none of that. Sure, she has better grades than him (not that that is particularly hard) and will probably be able to get out of this hellish place when she graduates, but for now they are both working at a dead-end customer-service and extenuating circumstances like those tend to bind people together. He would know. An angry customer can be scarily similar to a literal demogorgon.

The next day his nose is still running and his throat is still hurting and he seriously considers coughing into their sortiment as a rebellion of sorts more than once. Robin, of course, is having the time of her life.

"It's like the opposite of the school dress code", she jokes. "Don't you dare hide too much skin, young man, or you won't distract the potential customers!" He snorts at her exaggerated and yet eerily accurate imitation of their boss.

Then he has an idea. "Ooohhh, I know this face" Robin sinsongs rubbing her hands together. "This is your 'I'm going to do something stupid' face. You wear it concerningly often."

"Correction, Buckley. You are going to help me, and we are going to do something stupid. Together. It's not very patriotic to abandon your brother in arms in the trenches like that, you know."

She takes a sceptical look at their tiny shop. "Don't take it personally. But if there was a war. And our country was this Scoops Ahoy. I would rather join the dark side than help my brother-in-arms"

"You mean you would rather murder me than", he takes a significant look to the freezer hidden in the back, "chill with me here?!". She punches him (Robin is surprisingly strong for someone with such noodle arms), and sighs deeply in a way only underpaid customer-service-workers can relate to when a group of teenagers crowds the counter. Steve can't help his smug little smirk as they serve the group together and knows it is taking Buckley everything she has not to punt him in the face. She is totally going to be an idiot with him.

They need a second whiteboard, but Robin refuses to let the "you suck"-game go, so they pool their money together and buy the cheapest one they can find.

The first step is easy: Robin needs to find out all the dress code rules in Hawkins High and write them on their new board.

Then it is Steve's time to get to work.

Experiment #1: Fingertip Rule

"The length of skirts, skorts, and shorts must extend below the student's fingertips when the student's arms are extended at his/her sides."

"Soooo.....am I just going to have to find like....massive socks."

They stare at each other.

Steve raises one of his brows (he is proud of that one). Robin blows him a Raspberry. Steve bites his lower lip to stop himself from smiling. Robin is the first to break, this time. She bursts out laughing. He consoles himself with the thought that at least he won their little stare contest. Plus, with a big of luck and tigh-high socks, maybe this annoying not-quite-cold will finally go away.

The worst part of having completely cutt off contact with everyone in his grade is that he has nothing to do. Everyone he would be willing to spend time with is in fucking school so he has the whole fucking morning to do lots of big old nothings.

So maybe he had an ulterior motive when he suggested this little experiment. One that had nothing to do with a sore throat or a running nose. (He suspects that Robin is aware of that, too. But for once in her life she actually knows when to shut up, so whatever.)

That day he drives out of the parking lot and turns his beloved car in the opposite direction of his home. Sure, he could buy the yarn and the sewing supplies in Hawkins, and his father probably wasn't planning on going to that particular shop anytime soon. But Steve has nothing but time and it is always better to be safe rather than sorry. (Which is also why he always carries a bat full of nails in his trunk.)

It is only when he is already halfway there that he remembers that he is still wearing that stupid fucking uniform. Fuck. But it's okay. It's fine. He just can't let Robin find out that he forgot to take it off and had to actually interact with real people (they've decided pretty early on that customers don't count as those) while wearing it. The only worse thing would be to admit defeat and drive all the way back only to change clothes. Like, he doesn't really have standards or self-respect anymore, but that is a bit pathetic even for him.

And how good a decision that ended up being. As soon as he enters the girl at the counter gives him an appreciative once-over. He brushes away some of his hair almost on autopilot. He isn't sure what about sailor-themed polyester seems to work with so many people, but he sure isn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Steve Harrington may not be very good in a great many things, but one thing he can do well is people. He is good at assessing other's intentions, knows how to be charming or how to subtly suggest an idea (manipulation is such a strong word) and project a certain image. He wasn't called the King for nothing, after all.

He stays way longer than he initially intended, but he is pretty sure the girl gave him a bit of a discount, plus she actually taught him the basics of knitting, so he is not going to complain. (At first she thought it was his way to get closer to her, but about five minutes in she realized he was way too intense about it for it to be solely that). So maybe he actually will be telling Robin of his little mishap so she has no choice but to give him another point in the "you rule" column.

The next day, for the first time in what feels like an eternity (he and time have always had a complicated relationship), he does not start his day sitting his butt in front of the TV boring himself to death until it is time to go to work.

Well, that is a lie. He does sit on his sofa the whole time. And he does have the TV on for some background noise. But instead of flipping through channels until he finds something he can at least pretend to be somewhat interested in, he takes everything he bought yesterday afternoon and starts knitting.

Or well, to say that he immediately started knitting would perhaps also not be too accurate. First he stares at the newly-bought yarn for who knows how long trying to decide on a color. His petty petty heart is begging for him to use the orange that clashes horribly with the navy blue of the uniform, but at the same time he should probably not immediately start with the worst possible combination, no matter how much he may want to. Instead, after a frankly embarrassing amount of contemplation, he decides to start with the red. It fits with the accents, and the blue doesn't become too overpowering. Then he begins. For real this time.

Or well. He tries. Turns out knitting is much more complicated when you don't have a cute girl next to you to correct you when you mess up. By the time he has to go to work, he has achieved a whole lot of nothing. (He had been pretty proud of his little square until he noticed that something was wrong and it was lopsided and weird and he couldn't exactly pinpoint it but it was bothering him so he undid all his progress and then had to run to his car when he realized he was already late for work.)

When he arrives he is out of breath and his hair more disheveled than he would normally allow, but he is also only ten minutes late and wasn't stopped by the police for speeding so he sees it as a win. He starts questioning his assertion when his lovely co-worker raises both her eyebrows, quirking her lips (She can't raise just one, which is half the reason why he does it). He follows her gaze.

"Hey, you can't expect me to finish two tigh-high socks in less than a day."

"I'm not looking at you inexistent socks, dingus"

"Interesting fashion choices, your majesty. Got your panties in a twist?"

Steve looks at Eddie Munson who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Steve looks down. Steve sees that in his hurry he accidentally put his shorts on the wrong way around. Steve lets out a deep deep sigh.

The nice girl (he swears it was something starting with 'H'. Heather? Hannah?) said that she needs about three days for a pair of socks. Considering that, Steve doesn't think his one week is too shabby.

Of course, stupid innocent soul that he was, he once again managed to destroy all his work by letting it shrink in the wash. She (Helena? Hayley?) really hadn't been exaggerating when she said that knitting is at least as much unmaking as actually creating.

Six days later he arrives at Scoops on time for the first time in a week. (It had become personal, okay?! Not his fault time decided to fuck with him specifically for some ungodly reason)

He can see the exact moment Robin sees the high socks that go exactly as high as his fingertips reach - her mouth actually falls open. Her eyes widen further into an honestly comedic degree when he takes out the pair that had shrunken while washing.

"Buckley up", he says, finding himself very funny. "Brothers in arms, remember?"

Steve isn't sure if he should consider himself lucky or despair when their beloved boss actually graces them with his presence. Sure, all this had originally started as a way to see how much clothing is too much clothing according to the higher-ups. But his socks took a lot of work and it is very refreshing (ha!) not to have to freeze his legs off for multiple hours.

He takes a look at their whole fit and turns to Steve. "Harrington, didn't we already have this conversation less than a month ago?"

"While, yes, it may seem like that", Robin interrupts, manager always having had a noticeable preference towards her for some reason, "this actually doesn't conceal any of the important bits." Both visibly wince at that last part. She points towards the sliver of skin between where his shorts end and his socks begin. "According to school dress code, this is plenty distracting. You wouldn't disagree with the school principal who is responsible for the education of literally the entire town, right sir?"

At seeing the skepsis in his gaze Steve quickly intervenes. "Plus, I mean, the customers can barely see it anyway. You know, because we are standing behind the counter. So it doesn't make that big of a difference. And I'm still a bit sick". He coughs for good measure.

The boss looks at both of them with raised brows (Steve admittedly feels a sense of superiority at knowing his boss also can't raise only one like he can) and a long-suffering look as if he were the one who can look forward to two more hours of customer service. For a second Steve is absolutely sure that because of this idiotic little joke he and Robin are going to be fired on the spot. Instead he lets out a long deep sigh and nods in defeat before leaving them alone.

Robin immediately goes for the high-five. "Oh my god this was so great. Did you see his face?! Like-" , she makes a face that looks nothing like his had "Oh my god. I can't wait for the second experiment. This is going to be so much fun!"

This time it is Steve's turn to look at her incredulously. Maybe Robin is part of the group of degenerate people his father always warned him about.

Experiment #2: Hosiery Rule

"tights, leggings, or other types of hosiery must be accompanied by a fingertip length or longer top or dress."

The second their boss's eyes had narrowed at the sight of his socks, Steve had decided that he had enough. He actually needed this job - not in the least because he would probably die from boredom, and who would be there to protect the kids then?

But he hadn't counted on Robin's delight at sucking it up to the school dress code (even if nobody AT school knows of their nefarious deeds) and by the time the shift was over she had somehow convinced him to wear tight leggings instead of the demanded shorts. "The more see-through the better", were her exact words. At least he managed to stop her from going straight to the shoulder rule - he wasn't sure he was ready to destroy one of the uniforms he'd had to pay out of own pocket for this little game of theirs.

So as soon as Steve gets home he goes to the first guest room (he isn't sure what fight had had her barging into the bathroom with tears in her eyes years ago, but his parents hadn't slept in the same bed since. The only reason it is still called the "guest room" and not "his mother's room" is because married couples don't do that. Apparently. If that is what a marriage looks like, Steve would rather stay single forever. And why had he come here again? Oh, yeah. Leggings.

He approaches her drawers and prays that she has left behind at least one pair of yoga pants. He refuses to actually spend money because of this bullshit. (Okay, maybe that isn't strictly true. Because even worse than wasting money on a stupid pair he will only wear once and could possibly get him fired is the thought of Robin being mad or disappointed at him.)

Not for the first time he thinks that his mother must have had a wild past she never talks about. If he had to describe the woman in one word it would be classy. Her posture is always as straight as a flight attendant's or a model's. Her wardrobe consists of muted whites and creams. Maybe the occasional black if she is feeling especially bold. Her jewelry is always small but tasteful ("if it's too big, it's tacky. It makes you look desperate to prove something or to flaunt your wealth"). Her makeup, just like everything else, is elegant and purposeful. Classy.

But then El rummaged through her makeup drawers and somehow found a bold black eyeshadow palette with a cracked mirror (his mother is always very careful with her belongings). Or her son will to through her clothes in an attempt to find a pair of see-through skin-tight leggings that fit him and the only pair he can find is a truly abhorrent screaming orange.

He remembers how he considered making the socks orange to clash with the uniform and just barely stops himself from hitting his head against the wall. Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Good one universe or god or whoever the fuck.

The next day he goes to work wearing the fucking horrible leggings. Robin does not look appreciatively enough of his sacrifice, which is probably because he knew he would never be able to step out of his car if he didn't cover it with some black jeans, at least on his way over to Scoops.

She understands his debacle when he goes to the back to take off his normal and socially acceptable pants and comes out wearing that thing he still can't believe he actually found in his mother's closet. Easy for her to laugh, considering her nice and non-offensive navy blue pair. She went through with her own advice and one can clearly see where her underwear begins. Steve is pretty sure that it is in no way appropriate to make fun of that. But Robin makes jokes about how he is never going to amount to anything and he is STILL wearing the worst clothes he has ever laid his eyes on for her, so he thinks he has earned the right. As expected, she punches him in the arm and screams at him for looking. (Never mind that he wasn't, it is just pretty impossible to ignore, okay?!) She wants to put on the extra shorts she started storing here after she accidentally let a huge ice cream cone with fudge and sprinkles fall on her and had to finish the rest of her shift with sticky clothes - yes, Steve did obviously make inappropriate jokes about that, although not nearly as many as he would today. He reminds her that the entire reason they are doing this is to be inappropriate, and that if she can cover her old grandma undergarments (Hey, I want to see you stand around for over an hour wearing fucking lingerie, asshole) he can take off the orange eyesore he put on JUST FOR HER. A bit of pleading (he is not going to be the only embarrassed one today if it kills him) and they are both standing uncomfortably and trying to laugh it off when the tenth customer takes a judgemental look at their legs (if not an outright comment, thank you Tommy and Eddie.)

Steve doesn't try flirting with every cute girl that comes around and can confidently say that he has never felt less sexy in his life (and that is saying something, considering he has had a concerning amount of injuries and near-death experiences over the last two years). Robin decides to put the "You suck"- game on hold for one day because Steve argues that they should add a talley everytime she gets judged as well, and she can't find any convincing counter-arguments.

Things did not get much better when the boss came around. Steve is pretty sure Robin's whole underwear situation is the only reason they weren't fired on the spot. She looks approprietly grossed-out when he voices this thought.

If there is one positive thing about this whole experience, is that he has never felt so close to his coworker as today. Trauma truly is a hell of a bonding experience.

Experiment #3 Pyjamas:

"Hawkins High includes pajamas in the category of provocative clothing"

"We are not doing this."

"Yeah, no"

...

"Do you like, sleep in lingerie or something? like, why would pajamas-?!"

Experiment #4: Shoulder Rule

"tops that have less than two fingers width of coverage on the shoulders are prohibited for any student, and shirts that are cut like A-style under shirts or beach wear can't be worn by boys."

Steve's cold is finally completely gone, but this whole experiment has stopped being about that weeks ago (if it ever truly was.)

After the humiliating incident that had been the day before, Steve and Robin were in complete agreement that there was absolutely no way they were going to stop their little game now and let the fucking mess that had been yesterday be in vain.

And so they have unanimously decided to cross the one line Steve had secretly sworn to leave untouched: mutilate their uniforms.

Now, they are both aware that that is their most radical move yet. And although some non-believers will vehemently deny it, Steve and Robin (well, mostly Steve to be honest) are aware that purposely provoking other people will sooner or later bite you in the ass (especially if those people are above you in the hierarchy). And so, for the next week, both wear their regulated uniforms. Their poor boss looks so relieved Steve almost confesses that this is only the calm before the storm.

"Why shoulders, though?"

They have decided that they can continue with their plan. Or, well, Steve had been so distracted with his new plant (he bought a bonsai that he named after Robin instead of the golden girls so he could have the satisfaction of cutting her branches when she'd been particularly annoying at work). And his parents had randomly come back for like a week and his mom had left a lot of new makeup releases behind, which of course meant that he had to experiment. Plus summer vacation started, and his unofficial and unpaid job as a chaffeur for a bunch of preschoolers with it. These same preschoolers also started bothering him at work more often, which meant: 1. Robin now had a lot more fuel to make his life hell, and 2. He'd been very lucky the kids hadn't been to the mall on leggings day.

Which means that Steve hadn't even started the modifications yet. But Robin only remembered to bring an extra shirt their next shift together, so like, they are both at fault here.

"Like, what about that particular arm region makes the teachers so horny?"

"Oh my god Steve ew! The code isn't- well, now that i think of mister Bernd, yeah. Wouldn't surprise me."

"I know. And I am so glad to be out of that place. So, a month sound good?"

"Hey. If you can finish it in half that time I will deal with the hard costumers AND willingly clean the really gross and sticky shit."

"I don't..."

"And you get another "you rule"-point. If I do get fired I want to have a bit of the vacations left, man."

"Okay alright, I'll do my best"

"STEVE STEVE STEVE STEVE STEVE ST-"

"What the fuck you fucking menace what's wrong?!"

"WHAT DID HE SAY??"

Steve sighs. He is relieved to see Max spending so much time outside of the trailer but Jesus H. Christ. He carefully lets the needles that were previously residing more or less safely between his teeth fall on the table, makes absolutely sure that they are indeed on the table in front of him (cursed things must be from the upside down with how they keeps disappearing on him) and grabs for the walkie-talkie again.

"Lukas. Max. I said: What the fuck is wrong with you two? Care to answer in a normal volume, shitheads?"

"Where are you?"

"At home?? Where else would I be?!"

"Well, that is convenient!"

"What do you-"

"I don't know? You never have time anymore! I don't know what the fuck you keep doing all day?!"

"Language Max!"

There is a knock on the door. Convenient indeed. Steve sighs.

He manages to do it in one and a half weeks (he has found that knitting is very calming when the night is too dark and the memories feel too real)

At first he had wanted to try huge sleeves that swish when he moves his arm, but a) that would take even more time and b) it would fall into the ice cream and make a mess so he opted to make the already existing pattern in his handbook for beginners. Except with a hole where the shoulder is. And the blue also doesn't quite match the uniform. And Robin's arms a bit too skinny. So like, maybe it isn't perfect, but that isn't the point anyways. Nobody is perfect and shit.

The first people he knows who see him like this are Nancy and Jonathan. (They seem to be on a date. He is relieved when the realization doesn't hurt nearly as much as it once would have.) After the five longest minutes he has ever experienced, he is almost relieved when he sees their boss coming towards them. The relief quickly turns into terror when he sees the look on his face.

Robin follows his gaze. "Fuck." "Fuck indeed."

"Wait, you said that all this started because of the dress code bullshit, right?"

"Well, actually, it all started because some asshole out there is incredibly attracted to me-" Steve does not have time to finish his correct statement before the boss gets there.

"Buckley. Harrington. Why are you wearing-"

"Wow, Jonathan! Don't you think that Steve and Robin look absolutely dashing?"

"I- sure. They look... great. I definitely would not have come to Scoops Ahoy on this fine day if I hadn't seen their attractive....shoulders."

"Right? Where did you get those, Steve? I want to buy some, too!"

He has no time to see if their boss buys this extremely fake display before his heart stops in terror as he sees his kids stomping towards him. He tries to gesture for them to go away without his boss noticing. They purposefully misinterpret his flailing and walk faster.

"Hey Steve, what are you wearing?!"

"Yeah it looks so great doesn't it?", which prompts Mike to look at his sister as if she just murdered his puppy in front of him.

"Didn't these fresh new outfits make you want to eat ice cream more than ever before?" , Robin tries to salvage this complete dumpster fire.

Thankfully Jonathan and Will seem to have working sibling telepathy because the latter slowly nods. "Yes. I am never in more mood for ice cream than when my eyes are confronted with...long sleeves and...bony shoulders."

Somehow they actually manage to convince him. He isn't sure whether he really believed them (unlikely), he just got too tired of their shit (relatable) or just didn't want to do the extra work of finding someone else (which, understandable, but c'mon dude). Either way, what matters is that Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley remain with a steady (if meager) salary. Plus they had to swear to never pull such a stunt again, which Steve is honestly kind of relieved by.

Unfortunately this victory came at a cost: now the party knows he can knit.

"Hey grandma Steve! My sock has a hole. Can you fix it?"

"Hey Steve! Remember that apron we gave you when we found out you can actually cook? Wouldn't it be fair for you to knit costum shirts for us in return?"

"Hey Harrington. We've got this stray that sometimes wanders near our house and since you can apparently knit-"

When the Russians threatens to pull out his fingernails, his first thought is that he won't ever be able to finish the "Anti-Russia Squad" socks he was making for himself, Robin and Dustin.

When they are drugged out of their minds, Steve tells Robin he named a plant after her.

"Her name is Fuck You Motherfucking Robin Buckley Jesus H. Christ I Can't Stand You. Get it? Because then I don't actually insult you-

"You're just saying the name of the plant so technically you aren't cursing at me-"

"but at the same time i get it out of my chest!"

"oh my god i need a house plant so i can curse YOU without insulting you"

"rude but fair"

"except that i am so terrible at taking care of plants somehow they always...they always die"

(they are still crying half an hour later)

Steve's graduation present is a soulmates-sweater. One huge two people sweater. They wear it almost every day for like a month. (People keep assuming that they are dating which is really annoying because NO? THEY ARE BOTH VERY MUCH AVAILABLE?? Platonic with capital P? Why is that so hard to understand?)

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

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Hey!! I really love your writing! All witcher characters are very much on point, it’s amazing😍 i would have an idea for a Lambert fic if you don’t mind! How about reader is very much interested in learning from the witchers and hunting down monsters herself but Lambert is just very overprotective of her and thinks she’s insane for risking her life but in the end reader actually saves Lambert’s ass?? And they get together after that and it’s all fluff?? You can add anything to it, i love your Lambert!💜

Beasts and Books

A/N: Aww, thank you so much! I've been worried about my characterization- especially of Lambert, but I'm so glad you like him! and Okay, so fair warning this isn't edited like my other ones usually are and that's because I got carried away and wrote the longest one shot of my fucking life lol. I hope you enjoy it!!

Pairing: Lambert X Reader

Words: ~4k

________________________

Years ago- back when you were growing up in Velen, you actually started out as a farmer's daughter. Your mothers worked hard, taking care of the sheep, shearing them, and weaving the wool into yarn or bolts of fabric. You had been placed in charge of raising the lambs, rounding them up, and generally keeping them out of trouble. It was a lot harder than it sounded.

They often fought with each other or knocked over their milk buckets and seemed to do everything in their power to get you just that close to selling them and being done with them. But you knew your mothers would never allow it and so you grumbled and just kept on.

But it was the lambs actually that happened to change your life too. It had been raining all morning and you had almost finished feeding the lambs when “Hold on- One, two, three, four, five- Where is number six?” you questioned, looking to the rest of their little faces as if they’d even have the manners to answer you, let alone the vocal cords.

You scowled, hiking up your skirt as you stepped around in the muck, trying to find a sign of the tiny little lamb that got loose- the youngest of the batch this year. “Ah-hah!” you exclaimed when you spotted the trail of little hoofprints that slipped past the gate. He must’ve slipped through the fenceposts- he always was good at using his size to his advantage.

“Come on, lamb! I’m not gonna do this all day!” You followed the hoofprints into the forest nearby, prints few and far between as he must’ve been having the time of his life evading you. “Baaaa!” he let out a little bleat from just beyond the shrubs before you.

“Gotcha!” you grinned and popped your head over the shrubs, finding the lost lamb chewing on a rather damp book. “Well now, what have you gotten into?” You asked as you scooped him up, another bleat escaping him as the book fell away from his mouth. It looked like he’d found his way into an abandoned camp. There was a cold abandoned campfire and evidence of a bed roll flattening down the lengthy grass; you found bits of broken leather here and there- probably from someone doing repairs.

“Looks like whoever it was left in a hurry…” You commented, ignoring the lamb who was now more interested in chewing on the ends of your hair than anything else. You flipped open the worn cover and read the title of the book aloud, “Brother Adalbert’s Bestiary… huh”

“Y/N!” You heard one of your mothers call from the house; she must’ve come to check on how you were doing in the rain and not seen you in the lamb’s pen. “Coming, Mother!” You shouted in her direction and quickly scooped up the book before trudging back towards the house.

Once you got back home and finished up with the lambs you parked yourself right in front of the crackling fireplace, drying both yourself and the book as you carefully flipped through it again and again, reading as you dried out its pages.

‘Ghouls, nekkers, wyverns, barghest, the list goes on and on’ you thought to yourself as you skimmed through the pages, despite having been out in the rain it wasn’t as damaged as you thought it might be, even the notes lining the margins of each entry were still legible. You flipped to the beginning again to make sure the pages were dry when you came upon a little mark on the inside of the cover. It was a little sketchy and messy, but it looked like a little drawing of a wolf head next to the Letter ‘L’.

That was then- now you were a little older- still a farmer’s daughter, but now you were responsible for hunting monsters. You were no witcher, that was obvious- but you still made do. You had studied that bestiary until you knew it like the back of your hand, you saved up all your money to buy yourself a rinky-dinky set of armor and an old sword. You started small- fighting only what you knew you could take on; barghests and ghouls mostly- occasionally you attempted to help rid the swamp towns of bloedziuger, but you had yet to get down the speed you needed when they exploded into acid.

You ran your fingers over the dappled scaring on your arm, a testament to when you had started out on this path you had chosen. You had used your smarts to set traps for your monsters to make it easier for you as a regular human, earned some good coin, and invested that into better equipment. Now you had a good custom-made silver sword, a sturdy but light set of armor, and were beginning to save up for a good horse too.

“Alright Miss, this is as far as I’m taking you.” the cart driver had said, pulling his mule to a stop in the middle of a small village. “You can walk the rest if you really need.” he kept watching you expectantly as you hopped off the back of his cart, making sure he didn't see the few apples you had swiped into your bag.

“Yeah, thank you…” You murmured and handed him a few orens from your satchel to which he grinned and nodded his head.

“Much obliged, Miss…” He tipped the edge of his worn-out hat and continued off down the road.

“Yeah, sure you are…” You let out a sigh and stretched your legs, before heading over to the notice board. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”

You glanced it over, seeing mostly trade notices, but it seemed that there were a few notices you could actually fulfill too; wolves had attacked the livestock of one house, while wyvern seemed to be picking up the sheep of another one nearby. Probably were getting bothered by the same monster, but you figured you'd check them both out to be safe.

You glanced around the town as you stood- it smelled overwhelmingly of animals and stove fires, but your nose had become so used to those over the years that it hardly struck you anymore. A few old women sat out in front of a house, idling and chatting in the late afternoon while chickens clucked and scurried around the streets openly. You guessed there would be a few more hours of sunlight left, so you probably had time to start your investigation before it became too dark for you to see.

You set out to the other side of town to investigate the wolf contract first, figuring yours get the easy things out of the way first.

And Thankfully it really was only wolves that were bothering this farmer and you were able to finish up the contract just before the night began to really fall. So you headed back to the local Inn, coin enough for a room now in hand, and maybe even enough for dinner too if you negotiated right. You were fortunate, you knew, that you were completely human- After all, it meant that people almost always treated you better. You didn’t have any problem with nonhumans, in fact, in this line of work you had even met several pleasant ones you'd like to see again- but you also couldn't ignore that you benefited from the way others treated them.

It had just become fully dark when you came up outside the inn, torches along the road lighting your way back. When you came to the town square you heard a man trying to talk to one of the older ladies you had seen before.

“Hey, you. Yes, you Miss. Where the hell are all the notices for witchers? I thought this was Velen- you guys always have some sort of shit going on for us to solve.” he said, sounding rather obnoxious as even his horse seemed to huff in protest.

After grumbling something about ‘kids these days’, she motioned towards you, “apparently you’ve been beaten to it, Mutant. And I thought you witchers were supposed to be faster than us humans…” She snapped back at him with a smug look on her face.

The man quickly turned to you and now you could see his yellow cat-like eyes and the scar running down beside his right eye. He had worn but rather unique armor and twin blades strapped to his back.

‘Nope. I’m not dealing with this right now’, you thought to yourself and quickly slipped inside the Inn. You went up to the innkeeper first thing, getting a room for the night and what little food and drink you could afford with the rest of your coin. Thankfully the witcher still had yet to come inside yet so you tucked yourself in a corner to eat and read by yourself.

You opened up the bestiary as you ate, looking over the entry on wyverns. You had read this entry over dozens of times, but you didn’t want to risk missing anything that could help you later.

“One room for the night if you will.” The man from earlier asked, now at the innkeeper's table.

“Afraid we’re all out of rooms. She got the last one.” The keeper said as he threw a thumb in your direction.

The turned to look and you were sure he swore under his breath at the exact moment you did before his face twisted into a frown. His footsteps were quiet as he came over to your table, setting his swords down. “So first you take all my contracts, then you take my room. Who the hell are you anyway? You don’t even look like a witcher, you look more like a wannabe knight.” He said callously.

“Wow, quite the introduction. Are all witchers as charming as you Or do you have them all beat?” you retorted flatly, not even sparing another glance up at him. “It’s just my luck I guess. My luck and your getting fucked.” you added, chucking a bit at your own rhyme.

A wicked grin crossed his face and he leaned in closer, chin resting in his hand. “Oh..? You’ve got a bit of a bite in you, huh? I’m Lambert…” He introduced himself.

You looked at him, giving him a quick once-over with your eyes before you cracked a small smile his way and nodded. “I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n? Well, now I have a name for all my problems. So what’s got you so enwrapped that you can barely look up at me? It’s gotta be pretty good because I’m- Hey, I know that book.” He reached over and took it from right in front of you.

“Hey!” you yelled and went to snatch it back, but his witcher instincts made him far faster. “That's mine-”

“Where the hell did you get this?” he seemed a lot more serious now as he held up the book and looked back at you, suspicious eyes looking over your face to see any indication of lying.

“I found it in the woods years ago, its Mine-” you went to emphasize again, but he interrupted you once again.

“No. No, this is mine.” He stated and opened up the inside cover, pointing to the little wolf drawing and the ‘L’. “This is me. Lambert of the school of the wolf. I lost this thing ages ago. I didn’t think I’d ever find it again.”

You sighed as you watched him look over it with a level of care that was reserved for that of something like a childhood friend. This was the book that had shaped your life up to this point, but…. If it belonged to someone else, isn’t it only right that they have it again? You’d read that thing forwards and backward anyways, what more will it be able to tell you?

You let out a small sigh but kept quiet as he flipped through the pages when he paused for a moment. “Wait- this note isn’t mine… Neither is this. ‘Afraid of bees and will actively avoid established hives’ , ‘bad climbers. Easy to trap in pits and kill, but will become feral in their attacks. Keep out of reach.’ “ Lambert read aloud, looking from entry to entry at the notes you had written in as you learned.

“These are… yours? Did you… use this book to become a monster hunter?” He asked, looking at you in a mix of wonder and confusion. “You’ve got to be fuckin' insane- why would a human ever want to become a monster hunter?” after a half second of thought he handed the book back to you, which you brought to your chest possessively.

“You said it yourself, Velen always has shit going on for you guys to solve. I grew up here and it's turning into something that’s almost too dangerous to live in. I wanna change that.” you shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but what you did held great importance to you.

Lambert was quiet for a moment, something that you gathered was probably unusual for him, as he seemed to take in your words.

“But-” you started, trying to shift the topic and lighten the mood a bit. “How about to make up for stealing your book and all your jobs I let you stay in my room with me. You set up a bedroll in front of the fireplace or something.” you grinned a bit as you offered, watching his face turn from something serious into a charming smirk that you could feel draw you in a little more than you'd like to admit.

You two spent the rest of the night chatting and throwing quips back and forth at each other, and before your drinks were done it felt like you had known each other for decades. There was a layer of sarcasm over much of the vulnerability there, but you could see past it easily.

When you two made it up yo your room for the first time that night you discovered that the one bed the room had was actually a lot bigger than you had thought it would be. There was easily room for 2 people to sleep and still keep a bit of distance if they wanted.

“Hey, Lambert?” you looked back at him as he came to the door, “not to be too forward, but would you like to just share the bed? I can keep to my own side if you can.” you posed to him and set your stuff down on one side.

“Sure as hell beats the hell out of a bedroll.” He smiled and dropped his stuff on the other side and began pulling off his armor.

Your brain became like fuzzy static as you watched his tunic ride up through the motions he went through. The thin strip of skin and the distinct line of the ‘V’ his pelvis made was all you saw, but it was all you needed too.

“Don’t tell me our little monster hunter is getting distracted…” he said smoothly with a little chuckle to his voice.

Your blush glowed like a radiant lamp and you quickly turned away to snuff out that burning flame. “I just- well. You don’t want your armor on for sleeping? Isn’t it safer that way?”

“What- are you gonna stab me?” he moved to lounge out on the bed, putting his arms behind his head and exposing his midsection to you again.

“Well- I. No, of course not.”

“Well, then I should be fine. Are you just gonna stand there all night?” He said with a huge grin, patting the bed beside him. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“Shut up” you looked away and quickly and quietly got down to your tunic and underclothes. You climbed under the warm covers and pulled the blanket high around your shoulders. “Are you gonna sleep above the covers tonight?” You asked, rolling over to face him and pushing your hair out of your face.

A smile came over him when he looked over at you, it was softer than the others he had offered you tonight and a little more sincere as well. “I’m gonna be up for a little while. You know us Witchers, we don't really sleep much.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his already pushed-back hair. “Don’t you worry about me, you get some sleep…”

You struggled to hold back a yawn as you nodded in agreement. “Goodnight, Lamb.” you mumbled before drifting off into a sound sleep.

“Goodnight, little monster hunter…” the witcher mumbled quietly as he watched your sleeping face. He hadn’t felt this… soft sort of feeling before. Something that felt so deep and so real it almost scared him to admit he was feeling it, but as he looked down at your sleeping face he felt ease wash over him. How could you throw yourself into such a profession? Didn’t you know the risks? You even had the choice of it, unlike him…

“Mmph…” you mumbled out as you shifted in your sleep, reaching out for something that wasn’t there.

Without a second thought, Lambert put his arm in the way of your reaching hands, smiling a bit as your hand naturally found his and you held his arm close to you in comfort.

“What am I gonna do with you..?” he mumbled into the quiet night once more.

When morning came you woke up to an empty and cold bed, but you weren't sure why that seemed to hurt for some reason…. But within minutes your witcher had returned with breakfast in hand.

“So, we’re hunting a wyvern?” Lambert asked as he handed you a plate.

“Good morning to you too.” you remarked with a smile, “looks like. We can prepare after breakfast?”

And so you two did, when breakfast was finished you two gathered up your things and made for the stables.

“Here, you can ride on the horse. I’ll walk- I hate trying to follow a creature's trail on horseback…” he justified as he helped you up, hands on your waist as he boosted you up.

“Thanks, Lamb… lead the way?” you smiled down at him, grabbing the reins.

You two made your way to towards the last house on the way out of town, looking around for evidence of this wyvern and following the blood trail towards what you could only guess would be a nest.

“So, look-” Lambert started. “Why don’t I just take this one? You know how tricky these draconids can be.” He offered, looking up at you to see your reaction, but it wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for.

Your brow furrowed and you shook your head. “What? No. I’ve taken monsters on my own before so why should this be any different?” you argued. “No, If you want we can fight it together, but I'm gonna be there either way.”

“Look- I get that you’re supposed to be a monster hunter and all, but why would you want to go ruin a pretty face like that? Why don’t you just keep yourself out of trouble?” he sounded a bit less hypothetical now and a little more like an argument.

“So you think I’m pretty?” you asked with a smirk, trying to turn the topic of conversation. You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You’re a monster hunter! And even though you’re still figuring things out you didn’t want it to stop you.

The witcher only sighed at your response. “Yeah, I do…” his words drifted off a bit as he slowed to a stop, his horse automatically stopping beside him. “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I’m gonna go take a leak before the fight. First rule of being a witcher you know”, He said and headed off into the thicker brush, his somber tone resonating in your mind.

“That cannot possibly be true.” you laughed a touch and watched him go, sighing a bit, but taking the moment to get your things ready, bombs and potions from the recipes scribbled in the back of the book.

But it was taking quite a while for Lambert to come back…

“Come on, Lamb! I’m not gonna do this all day!” You shouted, feeling a sense of Deja vu as you called those words. You waited around a few minutes more until you heard an exasperated and pained cry coming from far off past the brush.

“Damn it, Lambert!” you yelled as you processed what he had done and stirred his horse into motion, tugging its reins towards said noise. You were angry, to be honest. I mean, did he just think you couldn’t do it by yourself? Did he think that because you were human you couldn't fight like he did? The thoughts alone made your blood boil and your skin grow hot and itchy as it was whipped by the wind.

When you finally came onto the scene you saw Lambert rushing around on the cliff's edge, battling the aged draconid all by himself. You practically threw yourself off the horse and into the fight as you came in close. “Damn it, Lambert! You lying bastard!” you yelled and drew the Wyvern's attention to you now as you stabbed your sword into its tail.

“Don’t yell at me, it was for your own good!” He yelled back as he cast Igni, vying for its attention to come back to him.

“My own good? You sound like my bloody mothers!”

“Sweet Melitele, I did it to protect you!” Lambert shouted, looking to you instead of the wyvern now and dropping his guard.

“Lambert…” you sighed, breath coming out in heavy huffs as you fought off the creature. But you didn’t get the chance to say anything more before the annoyed creature whipped its tail at the witcher and flew off with the last of its strength.

He had jumped back in just the nick of time but unfortunately didn’t realize how close he was to the edge. With one foot on stable ground and the other about to step off the cliff’s edge, his body's momentum had him off kilter and about to topple over….

“Lambert!’ you yelled and ran towards him, grabbing him by his sword’s sheath strap just in time and yanking him forcefully back onto safe ground. You stumbled backward to safety and landed on the ground right beside your annoying witcher.

“How’s that for ‘I did it to protect you’?” you huffed in an attempt to catch your breath, nudging Lambert with your elbow as he processed that he had almost died.

“Holy shit….” he muttered, reaching unconsciously for your hand- much like you had done just the night before.

You set your sword down and put your hand out to find his. “Lamb… while I admire you trying to protect me I don't want you to become overprotective. I love doing what I do- after all, I chose this path. And I know I'd love it more if I could work side-by-side with you” You looked to him as you talked, watching his expression turn sincere, but not uncomfortable. “I’d love to learn more about monster hunting from you, but don’t count me out just yet, okay?”

Lambert nodded, a smile forming over his features as he squeezed your hand. “I suppose it’s the least I can do since you saved my life… How about we finish off this wyvern together?”

You nodded, a grin spread across your face once again. “Together.”

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