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#Where to buy linen cotton

the-fibre-stuff · 7 months

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Have I ranted to you lot about the person who was looking for donations of "cotton" (fabric)?

I'm like sure, I have lots of cotton fabric. What kind are you looking for? I have jersey, I have quilting cotton, etc.

Turns out that she didn't actually know much about fabric (good for her for taking on sewing projects like this anyhow), and as far as I can tell meant quilting cotton specifically. To quote: "I'm honestly not sure what you mean about woven - cotton fabrics are woven, I thought..."

And like, I get it. It's hard to learn that sort of thing. I've read multiple guides on different fabric types and still can't recognise most of them. And the fact that I'm embarrassed that I can't recognise what counts as a shirting-weight fabric, or that a fabric is chambray should help me have compassion for someone who didn't have enough, frankly rather esoteric, knowledge of fabric types to know what they didn't know.

But cotton. Have you never read the tag on a t-shirt and seen what percentage cotton it is? Of all the fibre/weave/fabric type mix ups, cotton?

#For example #we had a Reach for the Top question about what linen was from #I buzzed in faster than my teammate #which was good #because he would have said cotton #because he legit didn't know what linen was #and was thinking of household linens #(he may have known about linen but not well enough to think of it)#and I don't complain about flannel vs flannette #especially since one of those you can buy in stores #and the other is a specialty fabric #and I'm sure there's stores that sell it #but I wouldn't know where #people thinking that silk means silk satin #that sort of thing #but cotton is an every day fibre!#how do you not know that?

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

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✨Love Amidst The Blue Part 1: Discovering the Siren✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my little mermaid au world featuring sailor! Joel 💙 I hope you enjoy this story I put together, and please tell me what you think! Comments and reblogs always appreciated and thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for reading over this and giving me suggestions! 🥰

Summary: Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 9.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Longing, feelings, eventual smut, Joel discovers a mermaid, mermaids try to drown Joel, slight angst

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

The crystal blue water of the Tyrrhenian Sea is calm, the wind gently blowing the sails of the Deep Blue Oasis as it rocks back and forth slowly. That was the name of Joel’s boat, one of his most prized possessions. A gateway to the unknown where he could clear his mind and get lost on the aqua ocean tides that have called to him for as long as he could remember.

A call to the side of him that loves history , ancient things, and to the treasure hunter in himself. He spent countless days out on the tides of the sea, always looking for hidden treasures that may be hiding under the deep blue water. His scattered map was marked with red inked circles and x’s of areas where there was said to be lost treasures down below. He swore to his father he’d find them one day and make him proud.

Joel’s father was a wealthy businessman, always focused on the clients in Italy and making a fortune of his own. Joel didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to be out on the sea, out where the ocean breeze could ruffle through his curly locks and carry him into the unknown. He always loved the water and the salty sea air, always wanted to become a sailor to travel the world. His father never approved of it, though. He said it was a waste of time and money, until that dark day that he passed away. His last dying breath was him telling Joel to buy a big boat and sail. Make me proud, son. Follow your dream. Those words still haunt him to this day, the few words he begged his father to say his entire life. So on his thirtieth birthday, that’s exactly what he did.

Five years later Joel had his own boat, his own crew, his own freedom to do as he pleased. His crew wasn’t the most trustful men, but they earned his trust little by little. He befriended some filthy pirates on one of his sea explorations a couple of years ago. At first they threatened him, but he was smart and talked them out of stealing from him and taking over his boat. He offered them so much money that they couldn’t refuse. They agreed to work for him and show him parts of the sea that he’d never been to. Sure, they had their flaws and their bad habits, but he couldn’t do this without them. So he decided to give them a chance.

Joel unfolds his large map of the area and lays it out flat on the side of the railings, studying the area like he knows exactly where he’s headed to. He rolls up his white cotton sleeves and traces lines of the faded map, mapping out this specific area with the tip of his finger.

“Captain Miller, the boys think it’s in this area,” Jasper voices over the blowing breeze, making Joel stop to look up from his marked map.

“What is?” he asks with a raised brow.

“The hidden underwater city of Capri,” Jasper says with excitement in his flushed swampy eyes. His linens are tattered, his blonde hair outgrown and unkempt, his crooked smile waning up at Joel as mischief plays in his scattered mind.

“I thought that was just a folktale? The underwater city. People have searched for years and found nothing. What makes you so sure this place is here?” Joel asks with narrowed dark eyes, waiting for an honest answer from his so-called pirate friend.

“Mermaids, cap’n. They’re here in this area,” Jasper says with the gleam of his eye, sure of himself as much as he’s sure of how to sail this boat.

“Mermaids…” Joel questions, flicking his eyes out to the blue tides as the water gently laps at the large rocks in the water. “I’ve never seen a mermaid, Jas. Only seen them in some old books in my study. As far as I’m concerned, they aren’t here.”

Joel starts to turn around, but Jasper catches his arm. “I swear on my life, mate. They're as real as you and me. Seen one with my own eyes. Not long ago either. Beautiful creatures they are, their siren songs able to hypnotize anyone who dares to look them in the eyes. Saw one drown one of my men before. Grabbed him by the arm and pulled him under with her song. He was never seen again,” he says with sad eyes, looking out into the bright horizon as seagulls and pelicans flock the sunny sky.

Joel ticks his jaw and looks out amongst the miles and miles of open ocean, only seeing the lapping waves as they hit the bottom of the boat. “Jasper, I’m gonna have to see one with my own eyes to believe it. Maybe it was sun poison that made you see things.”

“It wasn’t sun poison, Joel! If you won’t believe me, then I pray one day you do see one. Am I one to lie?” he asks with a heated stare and a hand on his grimy hip.

Joel knits his brows together and stares for a minute at the pirate that swears on his life he’s seen a mermaid. While Jasper doesn’t usually lie to Joel, he’s still a pirate. Still willing to lie and cheat his way around the system. But he’s also the most trustful of his crew, so he’s torn. Maybe it wasn’t a mermaid he saw, but maybe another sea creature. Yes. That’s what it must’ve been. Something else.

Joel puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and nods his head. “Sure, Jas. But let’s keep our eyes out for this.” Joel puts his index finger on the red x that’s marked right around the sea cave that sits a few hundred feet from the boat. Supposedly there was a ship wreck that happened years ago, and men have tried and failed to discover what great treasures were lost to the sea that day. Those who go in, never come out. Joel would find out, though. One way or another he’d discover the secret of what happened so many years ago.

“Go on and have the men anchor the boat. Wanna stay here overnight and see if we can find anything.”

Jasper nods his head and huffs out a breath. “Yes, cap’n. Right away.” He turns and yells at the men to hoist the anchor and get ready to search the area.

Joel folds the map back up and places it in the pocket of his tan trousers. He sighs and looks out at the massive sea cave, watching the waves churn calmly against the rough rocks.

Mermaids. There couldn’t be any. He would’ve seen one before, would’ve remembered if he did. He lets his thoughts go back to the task at hand and clears his mind. No time to think of maybe’s and false folklore. It was time to find some treasure.

The water is crystal clear today, sunlight beaming through the long seaweed that sits tangled in the ocean. You swim your way past a pod of dolphins, waving hello to the newborn calves as they whistle out their greetings. You dive down hundreds of feet and hum your favorite lullaby. The one your mom used to sing you every night before you fell asleep in the comfy bed of a massive clam shell.

A school of colorful fish swim past you, and you smile up at them as you propel yourself faster to get to your favorite discrete area of the bay. You call it the moonlight sea cave because at night you can see the moon shine all the way through the entire cave system, even under the water. It’s beautiful, a place where you can go to think and relax.

You always have to sneak off to this area. Your sisters would never approve, and you shudder thinking how your father would react. How many times has he told you to never go up to the surface again? How many times had your sisters dragged you back home over the years? You couldn’t keep track, didn’t want to think about it.

After that awful day that happened so many years ago, you weren’t supposed to want to go back up to the surface. You weren’t supposed to look for treasure that humans always dropped off their boats, but you still did. And you definitely weren’t supposed to be this close to shore, but you were still quite a ways out. Your father would kill you if he found you swimming around these parts, but you chose to ignore his wishes like you always did.

You swim up to the surface and lift your face into the sunlight, breathing the fresh salty air as you inhale the warm breeze. You push your long hair over your shoulder and take a few strides through the water, floating in the waves as the salt water dries on your shoulders.

When you look up, you freeze as your blood runs cold. A boat, there’s a boat. It’s big, towering over the water as a crew of men work on casting nets and walk along the deck. You duck down in fear and hide behind a rock, hoping that they haven't seen you. You slowly peek your head around the corner and stop in your tracks when you see him. The most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, and has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His hair is dark, tousled curls blowing in the wind as a few strands fall near his eyes. Brown, warm flecks coat his eyes. Eyes you could get lost in, eyes that you’d now dream about for days on end. And his arms. They’re strong, built, powerhouses that could take down a large man. The top buttons on his white cotton shirt are open, exposing tanned skin that must bathe in the sunlight on a regular basis.

You’re supposed to hate humans. You don’t trust them, you don’t think you could ever trust them again. But him… he looks like a walking dreamboat, a sailor you’d like to get to know. He doesn’t look like all the other ones, no. He looks kind, caring, maybe even dare you say trusting. But he’s a human, and you’re a mermaid. This can’t happen, this can’t ever happen.

Scar bumps your hip with his large fin as he makes a circle around you, warning you that you could be seen. “It’s okay, Scar. They can’t see me, I don’t think. It’s alright.”

He bumps you again with his snout and looks at you with his big black eyes, his dorsal fin coming just above the surface. He tells you to be careful, tells you he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You only smile and brush your hand against his sandpaper like skin.

“I’m alright. Promise. Go on, I’ll be fine. Just gonna stay here for a few minutes,” you confirm. He huffs out a sigh and dives back down into the deep depths of the water, but he stays close. He always stays close. Who knew that a great white shark would be one of your best friends in the sea? They usually don’t want anything to do with mermaids, but you saved him that awful day that was full of bloodshed and death. And ever since then he never left your side. You were grateful for him. He was the best protector you ever had.

You stay there against the rock and lean your elbows up on it, continuing to watch the handsome man look over what looks like an old map of some sort. You lap your tail up and down in the water and lean your cheek against the rock, daydreaming of meeting the man with dark eyes.

He was going to get you in trouble, but you didn’t care. You’d risk your life just to get a chance to stare into the maps of his golden brown eyes.

Joel clings to the side of the boat as he digs his nails into the warm, polished wood. He turns his head to watch his crew stay busy on the deck as they bustle around and drag their worn out shoes against the floorboards. He sighs and takes another look at his intricate map, tracing his finger over every crevice of the parchment until he gets frustrated and throws his head up to look out on the bright horizon.

As soon as he looks up, he stops cold as he spots the gleam of a sparkling tail in the near distance. It’s not just a tail, there’s a girl leaning up against a rock that’s staring right back at him. He rubs his eyes to make sure it’s not the sun playing tricks on his mind, but she still appears there in the same spot just staring blankly at him. He sees a young woman who’s beautiful, dreamlike, something he only thought was a fantasy. He sees you, a mermaid…

Mermaids aren’t real, mermaids can’t be real. But how does he explain what he clearly sees now? You are very much real.

His ears ring with white noise, the sounds of his crew scrubbing along the deck nearly nonexistent now. It’s just you and him, staring at each other as if you’re the only two people out on the calm waters. It’s just the gentle breeze kissing his tanned skin and the distant noise of waves lapping against the rock that you so subtly lean against, eyes locking with each other as if the world crashes on its side to bring the two of you together.

He grabs his golden telescope, looking through the lense as you come into view just inches from his vision. The sight of you nearly knocks the breath out of him, his eyes widen as he takes in the beauty that sits before him. He thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, thinks you’re absolutely divine, a treasure that should be well cared for.

His eyes trail down your lush curves, taking in the dusty coral colored seashells that cover your breasts, scanning every inch of your shimmering tail that’s soft pink as it flicks back and forth against the water. It’s almost sparkling like diamonds, maybe even soft to the touch. He wonders what you feel like, what you sound like. He bets your voice is like an angel’s, captivating and melodic like nothing he’s ever heard on earth. He wonders what your hands feel like, how they’d feel entwined in his own.

You should swim away, dive back underneath the blue water, but you can’t move. You can’t look away from the handsome stranger. You want to know his name, want to ask him all about what land life is like, want to know if his voice is as soft as his tousled curls look, want to see him again and again…

“Cap’n, whatcha lookin’ at?” Jasper asks as he comes up to Joel and nearly sends him over the edge of the boat. Joel drops the telescope from his unsteady hand, and it lands in a heap on the wooden deck. He scrambles to pick it up, and when he stands up and looks back out at the rock he sees that you’re gone.

He huffs out a sigh and shakes his head slowly. “It was nothing, Jas. Just thought I saw something. Was only a dolphin, nothing else,” he says with a hint of sadness on his tongue, wishing you were still on the rock so he could look into your entrancing eyes.

“Too bad it wasn’t a mermaid. Could’ve made you a true believer,” Jasper laughs as he hits Joel on the back of the shoulder with more force than he meant to.

“Yeah, too bad…” Joel says quietly as he stares at the vacant rock, doing nothing for his peace of mind as he wishes you were still there.

When he turns away from the rock, he sets his eyes back on the folded out map and grabs it up, heading toward the rest of his crew as they send down row boats to go inspect the area.

Joel makes a promise to himself then. Tonight he’ll go out late at night and look for you, hoping you’ll hear his thoughts that he wants to see you again. He will see you again. That’s a promise he will surely keep.

Later that night, Joel tosses and turns in his cabin quarters underneath the boat. He can’t sleep, can’t think as he tosses and turns back and forth in his bed. He thinks of you, the way your tail shimmered in the glow of the sun, how your eyes called to him from the deck of the boat. He needs to see you again. He needs to talk to you.

He crawls out of the bed and throws on his leather boots, lacing them up as he climbs up the stairs and enters into the glow of the full moon as the stars sparkle in the sky. He tiptoes around drunken pirates that are passed out cold on the deck, snoring and limbs scattered about as he passes them carefully to not wake them.

He paces the upper deck, sliding his hands along the edge, searching and searching for any sign of moment in the water. He only sees the faint laps of water against the boat, sees nothing out of the ordinary. He starts to doubt himself, maybe he saw nothing. Maybe it really was the sun playing tricks on his brain. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He sighs and starts to turn around, until he hears a soft melody carrying through the water. He turns around sharply and latches onto the wooden edge of the boat, eyes searching as he hears the sing-song voice start to come closer. It’s angelic, harmonious, nothing that he’d ever heard before. It sends him into a trance-like state, needing to find the owner of the beautiful song.

You wade through the water, flipping your tail as you hide behind the large rocks, singing the song of your people as you let your voice blow through the breeze, hoping he can hear you, hoping he’ll come.

Please, come. Come out to the sea, let me see your beautiful face.

You let your voice carry over the water, humming out melodic notes as you flip through the water. He has to come. He has to hear your voice, has to listen to you call him with your siren song. Come on, handsome sailor. Come find me.

You peek your head out from behind the rock and see him standing there on the deck, staring at you as his eyes go wide. You smile triumphantly as you duck back under the water, tempting him to come chase you.

Come get me, come get me. Find me under the water.

Joel wastes no time and lowers a wooden row boat to the water, climbing down a ladder as he jumps carefully onto the small boat as it rocks underneath his weight. He rows it out slowly to the middle of the water, searching his eyes every which way to find you.

“Where are you? Come out,” he whispers into the crisp night air.

He hears a splash to the left of him and throws his head in that direction. He sees small bubbles that form over the water, but there’s no sign of you. He sighs and pulls his eyes toward the rock and then he sees you.

He audibly gasps as you splash your tail and hide back behind the shelter of the big foundation in the water, nerves pulling in you as you’re so close to the human. The human with dark eyes and beautiful face. A human you want to meet.

He crawls to the edge of the little boat and places his hands on the edge, calling out to you in a deep voice that sends goosebumps down your arms. “Hey, come out. It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Please, don’t hide,” he says, calmly holding out an arm as if he wants you to take it.

You peek your head out from behind the rock carefully and see him leaning against the boat, a little too close to the water. He doesn’t know what dangers lurk beneath him, what things would reach out and drag him under the water.

You shouldn’t go, shouldn’t talk to a human. Humans are bad, humans are cold, cruel, vial. They killed so many of your kind, tortured your friends of the sea. But him… Well, he looks kind. He looks… safe. Safe? Could humans be safe? No. Could they…

This was stupid and reckless. You start to turn back into the shadows until he calls out to you again. “Wait, please. Don’t go. Stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching yours with some kind of intensity and longing that you’ve never seen before. It frightens you more than the horrors humans have caused in your life.

Stay. The word wracks your brain over and over as it pulls at your insides.

Stay. He asked you to stay. You decide then that that’s exactly what you’ll do. You’ll stay. You’ll stay for him. You might regret it later, but for now this is what you wanted. What you needed to do.

You start to swim slowly over to him, diving under the water and breaching just inches from his wooden boat. You come up for air, realizing just how close you are to his face now. He’s so beautiful, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life.

His skin is tan, the sun bronzing him as he seems to spend days on end on the water. His shoulders are broad, so strong as your eyes trail down his thick arms, ropes of taut veins spread wide over his lower arms. His hands look strong, big, calloused from working on a boat. You bet they feel nice, would like to feel them pressed up against your face or maybe have them entwined with your fingers.

His dark, tousled curls kiss his forehead as stray curls fall over his skin. You have to stop yourself from reaching out your hand to push them back into place. You think it must feel so soft, so smooth…

And his eyes. God, his eyes. They’re deep brown, flecks of golden warmth sprawled across the crevices of his irises. They’re beautiful, deep, intricate as they study you carefully.

He digs his hands into the side of the boat and leans so far forward you’re afraid it may tip over. You make sure that it doesn’t because these waters are dangerous to humans, dangerous to men such as himself.

He looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parting as he takes in your features. He’s so close that he can make out details he couldn’t see up on the boat through the telescope. Like your eyes. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes such as yours. They glisten like the stars, almost as deep as the ocean itself, captivating and breathtaking.

He takes in your long hair that sits over your shoulders as you nervously run your hands through the damp strands. And then there’s your tail. That glittering, magnificent tail that almost looks too intricate to be real. He focuses on each shiny scale, watching the way the colors go from a deep pink to a lighter flamingo shade of coral. He wants so badly to reach his hand out to touch it, see how it feels underneath the weight of his calloused fingers.

Just one touch, that’s all he needs. One touch to make this dream a harsh reality as a mermaid sits right in front of him, right in his grasp.

You see the way he stares all transfixed and in a trancelike spell. You might be insane, but the first words fall from your lips without a hint of hesitation there. “Do you want to touch it?” you ask shyly, pulling back a lock of hair behind your ear as you position your tail so it’s sitting out of the water, just inches from his waiting hand.

“What?” he asks surprised, eyes wider than the full moon in the clear night sky.

“My tail. Do you want to touch it?” you ask again with more courage this time, flicking your tail above the water as you entice him to go on.

“Oh-uh… yes,” he whispers out as he slowly but steadily reaches his arm out, ever so carefully extending his fingers as they brush over the side of your tail.

He gasps as his fingers come in contact with the shiny scales, like the breath has been knocked clear out of him. It’s nothing like he imagined it’d be. It’s softer than he thought possible, smooth as he glides his fingers underneath the cold water.

You almost stop breathing as you feel his fingers explore the magnificent scales on your long tail, almost sigh at the contact of his skin. No one had ever touched you quite like this, even if it was just the brush of fingertips. It feels… good. And you want more, need more.

He pulls his hand back out of the water, and you almost whine as you lose the contact of his fingers. You’d let him touch you again, let him marvel your tail all night if he wanted to. It was silly really, how attracted you were to him when you only just met him. He was just that beautiful, that mesmerizing. And for a moment you think he is the siren, not you.

“You’re a… you’re a…” he stutters, voice hoarse as he continues to stare at you with a starstruck gaze. He’d never seen a mermaid before, that much is certain.

“A mermaid?” you finish for him, almost giggling at his gaping stare.

“Yes,” he says in disbelief, nodding his head up and down. “I didn’t know you, mermaids existed,” he says with a look that says everything you need to know. He’s harmless, not here to hurt you.

“Well, we’re very much real. We’re just discrete, careful. We don’t really come up to the surface, not anymore,” you say quietly, shaking away the memories of distant screams and bloodshed that once was long ago. The memories are too painful to relive, so you lock them out of your mind and try to forget every day that you exist in a world that did that to your kind.

He doesn’t ask about the distant sadness in your eyes, you just smile and clear your eyes as you continue to gaze up at him curiously.

“What’s your name?” he asks slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you let your name slip past your tongue. You drop it carefully, giving him information that seems too personal, but you’re in too deep now. You want to know about him, and he clearly wants to know about you. So you’ll let him in, even if that’s a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He repeats your name slowly, going over every syllable so carefully as it rolls off his lips effortlessly. It sounds beautiful the way he says it. You could lean against the edge of the boat and lay your head against your arm as you look up and hear him repeat your name over and over again. Almost like a lullaby as it could put you to sleep with how deep and mesmerizing his smooth voice sounds.

“My name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with deep brown eyes looking down into yours.

You repeat the name over and over in your mind. Joel, Joel, Joel. It pulls at you, calls you as you hook your fingers around the edge of the small boat and feel his hand brush up against yours. You gasp and pull your hand back, feeling an electrical shock run through your entire arm at the connection of skin on skin with him. You’d never felt that before, that kind of connection with anyone. This was new, this was scary, this was dangerous.

He notices the panic in your eyes and puts his hands up calmly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” he asks as he surrenders his hands, letting you know he means no harm.

Darlin’. The name sends warmth through your stomach as you mull over his words. I’m not gonna hurt you. You let those words be a promise as you cautiously put your hands back on the edge of the boat. He brings his hands back down, just enough where if you shift your fingers they’d brush up against his. But for now you stay like this, just enough to still feel that electricity deep in your body.

“Darling, what’s that?” you ask with a raised brow, not having heard the word before.

“You’ve never heard the word darlin’ before?” he asks as he knits his thick brows together, pulling at the seams of your heart.

You shake your head no as droplets of water trickle down your back. “No, guess I haven’t,” you say with an even breath.

“It’s just a term of endearment where I’m from. A nickname, you can say,” he answers, his hand moving just enough for him to brush the outer edge of your pinky finger. You suck in a breath and try not to get too flustered at the action.

“Oh, I see,” you say quietly. “Darlin’, I like that…”

You ponder over the name and ask something else in return. “Do you have any other nicknames you use?” you ask, biting your lip at the question as you wait patiently.

He twitches his jaw and looks you over carefully before he responds. “I mean, there’s a lot I could use, I suppose. Darlin’ just comes naturally to me, but you…” His soft brown eyes flick over yours slowly before he speaks again. “Sirena, yeah. I like that,” he smiles to himself as your lips curl up slowly.

“Sirena, hmmmm,” you hum to yourself. “I like that, but what does it mean?”

“It comes from a Greek word. It means siren or enchantress, which you are. You are quite enchanting,” he says with a gleam in his eyes, his words in a trancelike state as he stares into your eyes.

You gulp at the meaning, eyes fixed on his intently. He called you enchanting, he thinks you’re enchanting. It shouldn’t make you feel so much closer to him, it’s only a nickname, a silly name. But it does. It does.

When you don’t speak, he asks another question. “What’s it like out there? Under the water? To be able to breathe and see things I couldn’t quite imagine myself?” His brown eyes sink into yours, shifting his weight slightly as the wooden boat creaks underneath him.

“It’s the most amazing thing you could imagine,” you say enchanted, your tail grazing above the water as you spin up a small current underneath you. “Unearthly, exquisite. There’s truly nothing like being able to connect with nature, to be able to see the wonders of fathoms below that no human has seen before. It’s freeing, beautiful, amazing, but…”

Your voice cuts off at the last part, thinking about all the things you wish you knew about the real world outside the waters of your home. Something you always wanted to know ever since you could remember. A taste for knowledge of the outside world, the human world.

“But what?” he asks quietly, almost putting his hand on top of yours before you shy away and move your fingers out of his reach.

“I just… I just wonder what the human world is like sometimes. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I just have that deep fascination with things I don’t quite understand. I crave to know the history of the land, want to know what it’s like to touch actual sand out of the water. Want to know how a…. oh, what’s the word?” you wrack your brain for what seems like minutes until you think of the word you once saw on a picture in a book. “How a fire burns,” you say proudly after remembering the strange words.

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about the human world. If you teach me about the underwater world.”

You mull over the words, think of what you could be risking. You could expose too much, you could open up a can of worms that you couldn’t close. You could risk everything. But for him maybe it was worth the risk. You could trust him, right?

As if he can read your mind, he places a hand gently on top of yours and you gasp at the contact. His touch is so careful, so soft atop yours. You think you like it, a lot. “You can trust me, darlin’. I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”

Do you trust me? The words ring through your head as you question the words yourself. Trust was a big deal, trust meant you were putting your own life on the line. But as you look into his soft brown eyes and see the genuine smile curled on his plush lips, you can’t help but lose yourself as you automatically nod and respond, “I trust you.”

His face is so close to yours, so close that if he leaned down just a little he could brush his lips against yours. It’s as if he can hear the wild beating of your heart as it beats like a pod of dolphins traveling as fast as lightning through the water. Your eyes gaze into his, begging him to sink his lips down to yours.

He reaches his hand out and traces the edge of your jawline slowly, intimately. You gasp at the feel of him, as his calloused fingers trail gently over your skin. It feels warm, safe, so very right like his hand was made to touch you, to know you. He sees you. He sees you.

Just when he’s about to lean down and give you what you desire, the boat suddenly flips over and Joel goes crashing into the water.

“Joel!” you scream as you dive down to retrieve him, but he’s not there where he should be. Where is he? You call his name again, search below the dark depths below, twist your way through the seaweed and look frantically around until you see what exactly happened.

Your eyes go wide, a scream escaping your mouth as you find two of your sisters holding him down below the water trying to drown him. He fights their grip, trying to hold his breath as he looks terrified of what’s happening. Your sisters just smile vindictively to each other as their aquamarine and deep purple tails flick against the water and draw their sharp nails into his arms.

“Stop!” you beg as you swim desperately up to them and try to grab his arms out of their reach. They back up just enough so you can’t quite grab him.

Cleo stands her grown and flashes her white incisors your way as her blue tail fans out behind her. “He’s a human! A man, for crying out loud! All men should die for what they did to us,” she spits out, a snarl deep on her flawless face as your other sister Marissa agrees with her.

“He’s different. Joel is different!” you plead, reaching your hand out again.

“Joel. You know him by name? Can you believe that, Cleo? He has a name. How thoughtful of our sister to learn such information of this beast,” she laughs sadistically as she yanks him under again.

You watch his eyes start to close, watch his breath gasp for air as he slowly fades from the light. You grow desperate, hasty as you swim with all your might to grab his arms out of your sisters’ grip.

“Please, he’s kind! Don’t do this. Don’t take this one!” you beg as tears start to pour from your eyes, landing against your cheeks as they float off into the unsteady waters.

Your sisters drop their hands, eyes wide at how desperate you’re acting over a human. But he’s not just a human, he’s different. This one is different.

They both watch you take his body against yours as you wrap your arms behind the backs of his arms and start to hoist him to the surface. They stop you before you breach atop the water, grabbing your slippery fin as they stop you from swimming any further.

“You better be careful, sister. You don’t know what danger you’re putting us in. Interacting with a man? You’re foolish, selfish. How do you think father will handle this?” Cleo asks with narrowed eyes that could kill a man with how sharp she’s staring.

“Don’t you dare tell him, Cleo. Just… let me go. Please,” you beg as you try to squirm out of her hold. “He’s going to die if you don’t!” you scream, eyes wide as his head slumps against your shoulder weightless, almost like he’s already dead. Panic consumes you at the mere thought of it.

“Go on, then,” she says with a snarky look. “I won’t tell him… yet. But be warned. If he does anything to sway my judgement and I mean anything, I’ll have no choice but to tell him,” she warns as Marissa spits in your direction.

Cleo finally releases your fin as you swim frantically up, up, up until you break the seal and breathe fresh air again. Joel doesn’t stir, doesn’t even seem to be breathing as his head still rests lazily against the crook of your neck.

You look around desperately for anything you can lay him on, needing to stir him awake somehow. You need to get him someplace dry.

“Joel, just hold on. You’ll be alright. Please, just hang on,” you cry out as you circle around frantically looking for anything you can use.

That’s when you see it, a large flat rock that lays above the water in the middle of the sea cave you always find yourself in. You push yourself forward in the water, making sure to keep his head above the stirring waves. You turn on your back and hold his body above yours as you propel your strong tail in the water, trying with all your might to get there faster.

He’s going to die and it’s all your fault. Why were you being so reckless? The words taunt your mind like your sisters’ glaring warnings. You can’t think about them now, the only thing you care about is getting Joel to wake up. He needs to breathe, he needs to wake up.

You drag his body up on the smooth rock and lay him flat on his back. He has no sign of breathing anywhere, his chest is still as dawn like the sun slowly rising in the horizon.

You try to shake his shoulders, try to rub at his sternum forcefully as if that’ll wake him up. Nothing happens. You try again, calling his name and shaking him, screaming for him to wake up. But again there’s no movement, no breath coming from his mouth.

You crash down on top of him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting a tear drop from your melancholy eyes as it falls against his still chest. You whimper out a pathetic sound that sounds like you’re choking on your own words. “Come back to me, Joel. Come back,” you plead, face still pressed against his hollow chest as you let another tear fall in his presence.

You feel cold, hard pressed, wounded as if someone just took a sharp stake to your chest. You shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let yourself feel so much for a human who you barely know. But he was going to show you his world, was going to teach you everything you wanted to know, and you were going to show him your world. But that’s no more. He’s gone. He’s gone.

You let the falling tears dry up on his cotton white shirt where the buttons lay half opened to expose tanned skin, can feel just how broad and strong he is underneath your weight. And you wish he’d wake up, wish he’d open his soft brown eyes so you could sink into them, sing him a melody while he grazed his fingers gently against your face. You want it so bad, want him so bad. But it could never be now. Not anymore.

You let your hand fall to his chest and wrap your fingers around his damp white shirt. You start to hum out your favorite lullaby, a way to soothe you over against the hurt you feel in your chest now as it aches and twists like a knife in your gut. Singing has always been a way to make you feel braver, a way to drown out the sorrows of dark days. Your mother always said you had the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard, but she was also gone now. Gone on that awful, dark day where blood filled the waters of your home. Gone.

You push the thoughts away, continue singing your song as if this will make the situation better. You close your eyes and drown out the lapping waves with your voice, making sure it echoes off every corner in the open cave.

Just as you’re about to push yourself off him, you feel movement underneath you. Just a faint lurch beneath you until he’s turning on his side and coughing up water out of his lungs rapidly, spilling it all over the glossy rock as he tries to catch his breath from all the choking and coughing his body expels.

“Joel?!” you ask alarmed, your hand shooting up to his face as you caress the soft, patchy scruff against his jawline carefully.

He lays on his back again and slowly opens his eyes, placing his hand over yours as he calls your name softly, his words still laced with salt water that still burns the back of his throat, but he answers anyway. And your name out of his mouth sounds like the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re alive?” you ask quietly, eyes wide as you stare down at him with your mouth parted open slightly.

“Thanks to you, I am,” he says with a nod up at you, his hand still lingering on top of yours as his calloused fingers send sparks down your arm. It’s electric, shocking as it blinds you with need.

You gulp but don’t say anything else, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Your voice,” he says nodding to you again, “I’ve never heard a voice quite as beautiful as yours. I thought I was in heaven for a second there, thought you were an angel.”

Beautiful? An angel? Oh.

“An angel? Not quite,” you giggle, dropping your hand from his face to rest on his broad chest.

He lifts his arm up slowly and hooks a piece of damp hair behind your ear, trailing his calloused fingers along your cheek as he stares at you with wide brown eyes. Eyes that make your insides turn to putty.

“You are an angel,” he nods, his lips curling up into a soft smile that could knock you back into the water.

He thinks you’re an angel…

“Oh,” is all you can say.

He looks at you like no one else has, looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world. He sees you for what you are, a siren, and yet he doesn’t run. He doesn’t run. He stays.

His lips look so soft, so plush that you think you’d like to feel them pressed up against yours. His eyes flick back and forth between your wanting eyes and your parted mouth, and you think he wants the same thing.

You start to drift toward him, closer and closer until you’re almost there, almost touching his lips. He reaches to cup the back of your head, steering you down, down until you’re barely a breath away from him.

Suddenly there’s a large splash in the water, and you jump apart from him as he sits up on his elbows and gazes out into the dark blue rippling water. He sees a large fin and goes ghost white as he takes in the long body of the great white shark that lurks around the area. His eyes go wide as he sinks against the cave wall behind him as if to hide from the creature of the deep.

“It’s alright,” you say calmly as you reach your arm under the shadow of the water and call the shark over to you. Joel’s chest rises and falls unsteadily as his eyes remain locked on the terrifying features of Scar.

“Your hand, get your hand out of the water,” Joel urges as he tries to pull you back, but you wave him off.

“Joel, it’s alright. He’s my friend.”

Scar circles back around and brushes his body up against your hand as you pet his back and let him disappear back under the water.

“You’re friends with a shark?” he asks surprised, eyes still peeled on the shadow that looms around the area.

“Mhm. I saved his life many years ago, and he’s never left my side since then. Kinda ironic how people misinterpret them. Sharks may look scary to the human eye, but they’re really peaceful creatures. If you just took a few minutes to really see them, you’d see they’re just trying to live peacefully in their home. They just want to survive like any of us do.”

Joel looks at you as if really hearing you for the first time. The way you talk about the ocean, about the creatures of the deep makes him feel things he’s never even thought of before. He thinks you’re beautiful, breathtaking, and so kind. So very kind…

“You’re really something out of a fairytale, aren’t you?” he asks with wonder in his voice, his brown eyes sinking into yours as he focuses on the warm smile you give him as you blush crimson.

“I guess you could say that, sailor?” you giggle out. “That’s what you are, right?”

“Yes,” he nods as he looks over at his boat that sits idle over the calm tides.

“Is that your boat?” you ask as your eyes wander over to the large vessel that sits in the water under sparkling stars. You flick your eyes over the sides, noticing the large blue flags that fly gently in the cool breeze and notice the words Deep Blue Oasis written in cursive letters that hang down the side.

“Yep, that’s my beauty. Been sailin’ on her for a few years now. Probably one of my favorite things ever. To be able to sail across the waters and explore areas I’ve never been to before. It’s all very… exciting.”

You watch the way his eyes light up the way he talks about the sea, watch the way his smile curls over his lips as he talks about his love for sailing. You think it’s hypnotizing, beautiful. You think he is beautiful.

“What are you doing around this part? Looking for something?” you ask as your eyebrows rise up, intrigued why he was staying around these parts.

“There was a ship that went down many years ago here. There’s all sorts of tales and rumors that some great treasure was lost here with the ship. And I want to find it,” he states excitedly.

A shipwreck many years ago? You think you know which one he’s talking about, like maybe it was that same night that all the bloodshed went down. The night you lost your mother to those bloodsucking humans…

He notices your eyes shift from lit up to cold irises, feels the dread that seems to take over your body for the moment. But then he’s cupping your chin and lifting your eyes up to his warm brown eyes, and you feel like you’ve made it safely back home.

“You alright, darlin’? You went away for a minute there,” he asks as his concerned eyes gaze into yours. You nod your head and let him continue to keep his hand on your skin. You’ll let him keep it there for as long as he wants.

You smile up at him and nod in response. “I’m okay, was just thinking about something,” you say with a daze to your tone, somber eyes coming back down to earth.

“Was there something specific you were looking for?” you ask as his fingers continue to trace down your skin. It feels like complete magic that holds you under a spell.

“Not really. You see, I kinda have a fascination with history. You should see my study. I have hundreds of books and ancient artifacts that I’ve found in the sea. You’d love it,” he says with a crooked smile splayed against his face. It makes a dimple form deep in his cheek, and it nearly takes your breath away.

His study sounds a lot like the secret cave you have deep underwater that’s full of human treasures that you’d collected over the years from lost ships and things thrown overboard from wasteful humans. It’s a little sanctuary for you, a place you can go to clear your mind and wonder just what it’d be like to walk on land. What it’d be like to have your own pair of legs. But you love the sea so much, you don’t think you’d ever want to leave. But for him, you might just follow him anywhere.

You sigh as you lean into his touch, wishing you could see just what he’s talking about. “I wish I could see it,” you say quietly, eyes trailing back to his doe eyes as he speaks again.

“Maybe someday you will.” And it sounds like a promise, like he will show you one day. But how? You have a tail, you can’t walk. Your home is in the ocean, not on land. But if you could find a way to do both then you would. There had to be a way.

“Maybe,” you say dreamlike as you dream of warm sand on your feet, walking hand in hand with him on the beach. A distant wish you so wanted to be true. But it wasn’t, and you had to deal with that.

You stay there another moment letting his calloused fingers run along your jawline as you watch his eyes settle in on your face. Before you get lost for too long, you pull out of his reach and sink back into the cool water.

“I guess I should get you back to your boat,” you say sadly, eyes averting from his as to not dwell on the beautiful flecks of mixed browns that you want to get lost in again and again until you can’t see anything but them anymore.

“Yeah, guess so,” he says quietly, a voice that screams for you to stay, but you can’t. He doesn’t belong here.

“Wait here,” you say before you take off to retrieve his small wooden boat that’ll take him safely back to dry ground.

As you wade through the water you get a sick sense that this can only end badly, but it was too late. You were already in too deep, and you already wanted to see him again. This was bad, so bad.

You turn over the toppled boat and throw the rows back inside, pulling it along as you drag it back to him safely. You place it against the rock he sits on and watch him climb in, situating himself as he takes the rows in his hands. Before he heads back to his large boat, he stops and stares at you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks quietly as the cool breeze blows a tousled curl against his forehead. Without thinking you reach up and push it back into place, feeling just how soft his hair really feels. He lets you, and it feels as soft as velvety moss.

You drop your hand back down and before you can, he grabs your wrist and stares deeply into your eyes, eliciting a gasp out of your mouth as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. You let him keep you there until you give him a clear answer.

You think of your options, think of what you might be risking if you see him again. Would your sisters try to drown him again, would he try to steal you away from the sea, would your father find out that you were meddling in human affairs? All of the questions were valid and unknown, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You wanted to see him again, needed to.

“Yes. Tomorrow night,” you say without any hesitation.

He nods his head and smiles down at you as he gently lets his fingers fall from your skin as your hand splashes back down underneath the water.

“Tomorrow it is then. See you later, Sirena.” The nickname falls off his tongue like a sweet melody that fills your ears. Sirena, enchantress, siren.

You watch him row back to his boat, watching the way his biceps bulge every time he pulls back on the rows. He looks a little like your own Prince Charming. A sailor that had captured your heart, and you weren’t willing to take it back. It was his now, as long as he wanted it.

He looks back at you before climbing up the steep ladder. He smiles gently your way and nods before turning back to the ladder and climbing up, disappearing from your view as he makes his way below the deck.

You sigh and rest your elbow against the glossy rock he was just sitting on minutes ago, daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and his smile that knocks the breath out of your chest.

Scar circles back around and comes up beside you, nudging you with his large snout as you gently pet the top of his head. “I know, Scar. I know. I’m in so much trouble.”

You sink back underneath the water and follow him back home, back to the kingdom of Capri where you belong. But you keep your mind locked on those sweet, syrupy eyes that you so desperately want to see again.

Joel was going to be your undoing.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged) @janaispunk @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vividispunk @keylimebeag @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @poeticbarnes @tuquoquebrute @awkwardprovocateur @ayamenimthiriel @everythingiwanttoread @burntheedges @hc-geralt-23 @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @vivian-pascal @untamedheart81 @laurrrra @dugiioh @blueseastorm @pedrostories @morallyinept @vvitchesh3x @frannyzooey

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the-merry-otter · 11 months

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How To Make Medieval Fabric Buttons

You will need:

• fabric (I’m using a medium weight wool)

• a sewing needle

• cotton or silk thread (it MUST be strong)

• a thimble

• dressmakers pins

Using this style of button as a fastening technique was very prevalent in 14th century Europe, on both men’s and women’s clothing. It was used for anything from sleeves and openings on the front of garments, to the iconic liripipe hoods (which is what these are gonna be for!).

They were usually made out of leftover fabric from the same material that was used for the garment they were intended for. As well as using every scrap of material possible, they also save you from having to buy metal buttons, which… aren’t cheap (both now and then).

The trade off is of course having to make them, which can be a painful process (literally - try not to get stabbed by the hedgehog ball at step 4!!). I thoroughly recommend a thimble to push the needle through as you form the ball - this is hard enough without having to pull it through.

Making buttons in my experience is 10% knowledge, 60% spite, and 30% hatred. It is a contest of wills between you (who wants a button) and the fabric (who doesn’t want to be a button). I wish you luck soldier.

To start with, cut a circle out of your fabric. How big will depend on what fabric you use - if it’s linen, you’d cut a larger circle than you would for wool. Mine is about 30mm.

Using a long long thread, bind on and then sew running stitches around the outside, about 5mm from the edge (may vary with fabric).

Pull this thread tight like a pouch, and turn the raw edges inwards in one direction. Try and tuck them inside the “bag” section. It will likely be more of a squashed oval at this point than a sphere.

Now, get your dressmakers pins and go absolutely ham. Continue to squish it “inward” (towards where the opening was) as you pin. The button should now resemble a very unfriendly little creature now (good luck with not getting stabbed, it can be a bit of a prick).

Next, basically use your needle to try and get it to stay in that shape. I usually do a bunch of stitches around the edge of the “back” end, and then spend some time criss-crossing the back. Try and put your needle in close to where it came out, so that you don’t get long pieces of visible thread.

Once you are confident that it will hold A Shape ™ (but also isn’t so stabbed that you can’t refine it further!), remove the pins. Your button will most likely resemble a little tiny messy wool brain at this point, but that’s ok!

The next step is to use your needle and thread to continue tucking the ball inwards to the centre of where the opening was. Above illustrates how I’ll flip the open part of a fold inward, by coming up through the fold and then levering it downwards so it gets tucked away. You can also just use the thread to pull errant folds inwards. Use the hand holding the button to squash it into form, and then sew it into place.

Once the button is actually a ball shape, crisscross the back of it a bit so that everything is firmly held in place. It should now (all things going well!!) actually be a sphere.

Once you’re happy with the shape and firmness, take your thread to stem out of the centre back. Bind off, and then slide the needle off the thread, leaving the long end. This can then be used to sew the button onto the garment.

The back will still be somewhat messy, but the front should be smooth, and the whole shape roughly spherical. When the button is sewn on using the remainder of the thread, you won’t be able to see the back!

I wrap the remainder of the thread around the finished button so it won’t get tangled, and then pop it in a jar with the rest while it waits to be sewn onto the garment.

Good luck with your crafting! Feel free to ask any questions in the notes, or straight into my inbox :)

#sewing #tutorial #medieval #medieval reenactment #medieval clothing #medieval costume #historical fashion #historical costuming #medievalcore #14th century #buttons #crafting #diy #i’ll be on my merry way now #I have…… sO many of these to do #truly pain torture and misery hours over here

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inoreuct · 7 months

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During a supply run with Zoro, a well-meaning lady tells Sanji he's pretty. Not handsome, no--PRETTY. "Your swordsman over there is handsome," she says, pointing at Zoro, who's examining liquor bottles over at another stall. "YOU are pretty." How does he react, & what happens next? 👀 (1/2)

he just laughs at first, if only to cover up how that one word from a stranger has hit him like a punch to the gut.

he looks like a man, and people don't call men pretty. rogueish, certainly. even charming; he's gotten that before at least, but pretty? he laughs some more, gives her a smile and a few words that he doesn't even register, and the merchant lady tilts her head. "you don't get that often, do you?"

"never gotten it at all, actually," he answers, bravado draining away to leave a mumble that he isn't even sure she can hear.

but she must have, because she slides his purchases to him and hums, "well, you're very beautiful. anyone'd have to be blind not to see it."

"maybe," he allows hesitantly, taking the bag with a nod of goodbye. he cannot help but feel as though he's realised something that he won't be able to ignore.

and sure enough, back on the ship, the words swim in his mind. they pop up in blinding white font against the dark of his eyelids as he tries and fails to get to sleep. you're very beautiful.

do i want to be beautiful? he asks himself, and halfway through he already knows, he knows the answer. feels it like an ache in his bones.

sanji's never let himself think about it, but once he starts he can't stop. he imagines himself in makeup, pots and pencils and brushes in front of a mirror, his hair fluffed to perfection, lips red as the dawn and a beauty mark beneath his eye. he thinks about what it would feel like to put on a dress, a proper one; cotton and linen traded for silk, starched dress shirts abandoned in favour of satin blouses and full skirts that nip in with ribbon at the waist. he thinks of the wicker wedge sandals that nami sometimes wears. he thinks about being a man, with a little something more.

he flips over and shoves his face into his pillow. he needs to stop thinking about things that he wants but can never have.

sanji's usually better at keeping his secrets, but eventually he slips. he should have known it was only a matter of time before the magnitude of it all became too much to bear and spilled out across the floor.

fortunately, his crew is there to catch him.

they take all of it in stride, even though sanji himself doesn't even know what all of it is yet; he figures things out as they go along. he finds clothes that aren't his in his closet, accessories appearing on his dresser. zoro keeps buying him silk blouses and it makes him want to laugh and cry in equal amounts. nami sees her chance to snag a makeup practice dummy and grabs it, which results in many a night in the girls' quarters, fooling around with makeup until they're either too tired or too giddy with laughter. the rest of the crew show their support in smaller ways, though no less significant—

and now, a year later and leaning against the bar counter of a vaguely familiar town, sanji suspects that he's somehow found himself. it hits him with all the grandeur of someone realising oh, it's stopped raining, or oh, tomorrow's tuesday— sinks into him honey-slow like the burn of the whiskey he sips, warm and comfortable, like a coat he hadn't realised he'd been wearing this whole time and had become his favourite without him even knowing. put like that, it sounds incredibly silly; sanji chuckles as he takes another drink, and a hand settles low on his back where the blue velvet of his dress dips down.

"hey, beautiful," zoro whispers by his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone before leaning over his shoulder to order, and sanji smiles as he swirls his glass with a slow twirl of his wrist.

maybe he'll go look for that merchant lady again. he's fairly sure he owes her a thank you.

#sanji gender fuckery #zosan #ino's ask box #sanji getting called pretty Once: GENDER CRISIS ACTIVATED #“i look like a guy” babygirl you already knew what you were inside #short and sweet and hopefully satisfactory #everybody say thank you merchant lady #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #one piece sanji #one piece #ino writes

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n0ts0surel0ck · 17 hours

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Some autistic Sherlock headcanons!!

Based on my own autism

Sherlock hates getting his hair cut. He can’t wear ear defenders and he despises the small talk and how loud the clippers and blow dryers are. So, he generally wears his hair long and/or cuts it himself. Mariana eventually starts cutting it for him, since it equally bothers him when his hair touches his ears or neck. She’s just… not very good at it.

John finds a salon for Sherlock that does sensory appointments. It’s a silent appointment, so he doesn’t have to talk, and John gets him some earplugs to help with the noise. They’re not as good as his ear defenders but they do for the short time it takes to get his hair done. He mostly gets a dry scissor cut so he doesn’t have to be wet and so the clippers don’t touch him. He doesn’t like the vibration. He finds that he actually enjoys the sensation of a blow dryer when the sound isn’t overwhelming him. The heat and the air pressure are soothing.

Sherlock is very particular about fabrics. He despises polyester and other scratchy, synthetic fabrics. Everything he wears has to be 100% cotton. If he got his way, he’d wear an old pair of holey, decade old pajama pants and a jumper everywhere, but he doesn’t. He understands that he has to be presentable. He likes linen, the material doesn’t touch him as much, doesn’t stick to sweat, and allows for plenty of airflow. During spring and summer, and often stretching into fall and winter, he wears a pair of grey linen trousers. When it finally gets too cold, he switches to a pair of cotton ones that have an elastic waist band. He hates when there’s a lot of pressure below his diaphragm, so he keeps it loose. Shirts are mostly tees in the summer, a bit too big so they don’t touch him much. In the winter, he wears big sweatshirts, a half-peacoat, and a green scarf.

He’s been buying men’s high-top converse since he was in middle school and refuses to wear any other shoe. They’re comfortable, allow him to move without being heard, and don’t add to his height. He hates breaking in new ones, and so holds on to the ones he’s wearing for dear life. John has seen him wrap duct tape all the way around his shoe to keep the sole from falling out before.

His bedroom is kept perfectly organized by absolutely agonizing effort. He is particular about that space, since it’s where he rests. He doesn’t work in there. His chemistry equipment is in the living room and he never goes into the room on cases unless John forces him to change clothes. His room is a sensory heaven that he works tirelessly to keep so. Cleaning is difficult for him, but he resets the space every time he leaves it, even when he’s in a rush.

The rest of the apartment is a bust. His executive dysfunction takes over as soon as he crosses the threshold into the hallway. He leaves toothpaste uncapped, cups and plates everywhere, clothes wherever they fall. It drives John insane and he tries to clean up after himself, but it feels like an insurmountable task.

His hyper fixations overtake conversation constantly. Sometimes he and John will engage in conversation that is just… incomprehensible to those around them. John’s talking about the weather and Sherlock’s talking about Pendolino trains. Neither is acknowledging the other’s topic of conversation, but they’re responding to each other in turn and seemingly having a lovely time.

He likes to stim “with” John when something exciting happens. He grabs both of John’s hands so they’re facing each other and has John pull him back and forth quickly. He likes it when John and Mariana mimic a stim back to him, especially vocal ones. When the three of them are in the office together, it’s just an echo chamber of mouth pops and buzzes.

Sherlock respects the fuck out of routine. His in unconventional, but he follows it almost religiously. This means he respects other’s routines just as aggressively. He never moves John’s items, and if he borrows anything, he puts it back exactly where it was, position and all. He noticed John folding laundry in a certain way and now, if he steals one of John’s shirts and washes it after, he folds it in that certain way.

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock holmes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra

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balkanradfem · 4 months

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I keep thinking everyone knows the exact same information as me, but since I'm about to make more posts about textiles and clothing, as I'm reading the book on them, I'm going to write down some basic information, just in case it's not very common, because a lot of this I only gathered recently. If I get something wrong please correct me in a kind way!

So where does the clothing come from, and how do we make it? During most of the history, textiles were made by women, from natural materials; flax, wool, cotton, silk, jute. Recently we started using more synthetic materials, like acrylic, polyester, nylon, spandex. If you want to make clothing from the natural materials, like wool or cotton, they first need to be processed, cleaned and combed, then spun into yarn, or thread. Spinning is the process where women manage to pull a thin part of the material and spin the fibres into one consistent, firm thread. It's super impressive to watch them do it and I have no idea how they manage to make it consistent, I've not yet tried to do it myself.

Once the thread is done, it can be made into a textile by knitting, crochet, or weaving. There are also other more complex, decorative methods, like tatting or lacing.

For knitting, you need two needles, or a special circular needle, or, there are also knitting machines, which you can use to make woolen fabric. For weaving, you need a loom. For crochet, you need a crochet hook. While knitting and weaving can be done by a machine, crochet can only be done by hand. Woven fabrics are firm, sturdy, durable, and not stretchy, while knit fabric is the most stretchy and soft. I'm not sure about crochet since I only have one crochet garment, but mine is very sturdy!

All of these methods were historically done by women; families were able to grow flax plants close to their homes, and women would then create linens, woven textiles made from processed flax, which was used to make sheets and clothing. Linen was specifically useful in keeping people clean, since it's very good at absorbing moisture. Used as an under-garment, it was capable of absorbing sweat, and protecting the outer layers, which were not washed. Experiments have shown that frequently changing into clean linen was more effective at keeping clean than showering and then putting on the same clothing back on.

Women's ability to create clothing was sadly exploited, and women were even banned to sell it commercially, or from competing at the commercial market, but their husbands were allowed to profit off of their craft.

In the USA, cotton was the most produced material, however for this too people were enslaved and exploited; cotton took human labour to grow, harvest and process, it also required a lot of water, and caused destruction of environment, because of the chemicals used in it's growth, and the unsustainability of monocrops.

Creating a piece of clothing out of textiles, or sewing, is a process that still cannot be completely automated; while you can use a sewing machine, you cannot make a machine that would produce a whole garment out of textiles. No mass-produced piece of clothing was sewn by a machine, it always has to be made by a human being. This is why a lot of the sewing labour is currently outsourced to third-world countries and companies use modern slavery in order to create fast fashion; there is no machine that can do it, so by the rules of capitalism, the companies are trying to get that labour as cheap as possible, often at the cost of human lives.

We didn't use to have as many garments as we do today, in the 18th century people would have two outfits, one for normal days of the week, and one for Sunday. The clothing they owned was usually made to fit them exactly, either by a female member of the family, or a seamstress, and these garments were made to last them for decades. As clothing became cheaper to buy than to make at home, and more of it became mass-produced, people started acquiring more of it, but also using it for lesser period of time. This would eventually grow into a bigger problem, due to the amount of chemicals and labour used to grow, process, dye and sew the garments, and the amount of waste we were starting to accumulate.

Introduction of synthetic materials, like acrylic, made the yarn and the textiles much cheaper, however it lacks the important properties natural materials have. Do you ever notice how synthetic garments sometimes continue smelling bad even after you wash them? That is because they'll absorb sweat, but become hydrophobic when wet, meaning they will take in your sweat, but refuse to let it go once they're in the water. This means that the longer you have them, the worst their stink becomes. This, of course, can be hidden by the generous use of scented fabric softener, but it won't exactly make the garment clean. This information I've learned recently, but it helped me identify what were the most synthetic pieces of clothing I had. Acrylic clothing had also proven to shed 1.5 more microplastics than any other polyester when put into the washing machine.

Having our clothing grown, processed, spun, woven/knit, and then sewn far out of sight, it's possible to lose the sight of where it came from, or how it's made. Only by trying to do it yourself, or learning closely about the process can one learn to appreciate what a monumental task it is, to create fabric, or a garment. Other than the synthetic textiles, of which I still know very little of, all of the natural clothing is a product of plants and animals, it takes land, farming, agriculture and water to grow the plants, raise the animals, and then labour to process and spin the fibres. It's also something people used to do in their gardens, inside of their homes, something that was normal for women to do, and to trade for anything else they needed, saving them from having to work for wages. Women making fabric was always to the benefit of everyone around them, while m*n taking over the industry and doing it commercially, ultimately brought slave labour to a lot of people, cheap and low quality garments to the select few, and money to the hands of the exploiters.

Being curious about clothing and what becomes of it, is a big benefit to the environment and the future of the earth! Knowing what the textile industry is doing, and how does it affect the planet, can be a great motivator to try and sew, or upcycle and mend clothing, or create garments. It's presented to us as something women were forced to do in the past, and it's connected to 'feminine hobbies', but in actuality, it is power to create something humans cannot do without. Women in the past used it's power too, whenever they could. And we are the only ones who ever used this power for good.

#textiles #clothing #linen #women's history #herstory #radical feminism #sewing #weaving #crochet #synthetic fiber #random information on clothing i've gathered #i feel much smarter so i wanna share!#if anyone knows more and wants to share please add #my sources are the book Worn #and dozens of youtube videos on textiles I've watched recently

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abyssal-ambience · 3 months

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prefacing this with I'm not necessarily punk, but I like customizing my clothes. and i wanna help other people find stuff for battle jackets! (and other stuff) I'm not the authority on this, but I still want to give my two cents!! also don't expect much more to this, my profile is pure cringe.

If anyone is starting out and I can help, I'd like too!!

The spike/stud dilemma

one of the biggest issues i've noticed is "where do I find studs/spikes without fast fashion??" which is totally fair. something like that shouldn't have to be a minefield. obviously if you buy from a small business that re-sells them from aliexpress you're still indirectly supporting aliexpress.

im sure there ARE slow fashion alternatives and if anyone knows some please let me know so I can add it!!

BUT here's what I'd recommend.

-goodwill bins, sometimes they have old clothes or broken belts, very rare though. also any thrift store or reclaimed craft store.

-Local businesses, sex shops

-metal paper fasteners

-borrowing. it's inevitable, I know. JOANNs is definitely the best selection imo, but Hobby Lobby is better to steal from. Because They are Terrible. Michael's is OK but less selection usually. They use peal off tags usually which are easy to remove.

-also if you're feeling extra insane, hot topic uses mainly ink tags, which can be removed with heat (look up tutorials on) or just cut off a stud/spike belt. their studs are pretty easy to remove. same with bracelets, they break a lot. ofc it depends on the place whether they use beep beep tags.

-ask people for broken shit!

TEXTILES (the easy part)

-fabric samples are easy to find for free online. get whatever colors you want, i usually stick to black, white, grey and 1-3 other colors. they're usually pretty small so order around until you find the right size. you want cotton and linen, usually upholstery if you're painting on them. if you're not or you're ok working with leather, leather is easy to find too. A lot of companies mentioned how stretchy your material is something not stretchy most cases.

-FACEBOOK!! A.K.A the boomer method. This is where I got almost all of mine!! I recommend downloading FREEBIE as well! I got mine thru that, it links to facebook, nextdoor, and so on. Ofc you can pay for them- but you don't have to! I have lifetime supply of textiles basically bc of this. A lot of people get them for hobbies or work.

-the goodwill bins!!!! you can absolutely find fabric there, it's pretty common actually

-you don't need to steal this tbh it's easy to find second hand and less wasteful

PAINTING

-Facebook, goodwill, or reclaimed/used craft stores if you have them

-borrowing (same places)

-use something like Painter Eye (AR tracing app) and draw out any complex band logos etc.

-you can also use sharpies or whatever nobody's stopping you

Other stuff

-one of the best ways to find stuff is just GO FOR A WALK! Find little shiny objects!

-hardware stores are good so are army surplus

#diy projects #punk #crust punk #battle jacket #crust pants #crust punx #local music #diy punx

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absentlyabbie · 8 months

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i have gotten to the point in my buying-shit evolution to where i am disgusted, affronted, even outraged when some big name "we're so amazing and quality which is why we charge out the ass" brand wants to sell me fucking "PU leather"

it's PLASTIC. BITCH YOU THINK I'M PAYING $60+ FOR PLASTIC SHOES OR A PLASTIC JACKET OR A PLASTIC PURSE?

levis and loungefly and soooooo many others can fuck right off with that.

and DO NOT get me started on clothes and bedding being sold by prestige brands for hundreds of dollars MADE OF FUCKING POLYESTER. the gall. the temerity. the EMBARRASSMENT. the unvarnished greed of it all.

i spit on your advertisements and all your marketing writeups.

ps never fucking trust a product that the brand doesn't wanna say what it's made of. that comforter or shirt says it's "skin friendly, breathable, wrinkle free" but doesn't spell out fabric content?

bitch, it's polyester. it is made of lies and poorly recycled garbage, which is where it will soon return when it falls apart in 3-7 months.

ho, don't do it. you are worth cotton, linen, and all the other natural fibers. you deserve real leather.

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 1 year

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Hey I just saw your beeswax post and Kim fascinated. What does thread conditioning mean? (If you don’t mind explaining, I know I could Google it but I enjoy listening to people talk about stuff that they enjoy)

I do like talking about sewing! Though lately I've been using my hands for it so much that they're sore for typing sometimes. I need to strengthen my arms so the ligaments stop bitching. >.>

There's an exploration in the last reblog here. Basically: Conditioners are substances you put onto thread to make it stronger and more manageable.

Sometimes that's done in the manufacturing process, like for the creation of hand-quilting thread. It's already stiffer and smoother than usual cotton thread. But even then, once I've got it on the needle, I pull the thread over a lump of wax to add a thin coating to it. This is hugely to get the thread to forget the tight curls it has learned on the spool, which make it likely to snarl and be a pain.

There's also a whole thing where like... most modern thread isn't made for handsewing. A hand-sewn seam has one length of thread, two if it's doubled back. A sewing machine has two threads, twined together in a way that's really strong. (Technically it's "couched", not sewn, which takes people a bit of work to understand sometimes.) Overlock machines use three or four or five threads to make a seam. All of this leans the balance of demand in mass-produced thread towards stuff that is thin and lightweight, won't create a seam that is too bulky, but not particularly strong or smooth. If you buy cheap thread, that's what you'll probably get. If I want thread in a very specific colour, polyester thread gives me more choices, but is much less nice to sew with.

(There's also a whole thing about polyester, a petroleum byproduct, being way cheaper and easier to produce than natural fibers like cotton, silk, linen, or wool.)

I'm guessing professionally manufactured thread conditioners avoid some of the pitfalls of my beeswax, which responds to me coating the thread too thickly by shedding wax along the fabric as I sew, in a way that kind of looks like dandruff. But meh, I can live with that.

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vincentbriggs · 8 months

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SIR! I have a question that you can disregard if you like. I am capable of going to the fabric store and figuring my own nonsense out, I just want a pre-emptive second opinion.

The backstory: I teach various after school enrichment classes and we have a class on October 31st for which all of my students are excited. One of my students has said I should come in dressed as a vampire. I want to do it. For him, and also cause he's right. I am incredibly goth and it would only be proper. Sadly, none of my current shirts are sufficiently vampy for this. I wish to make one of the rectangle shirts you've so kindly demonstrated, perhaps with incredibly stupid oversized sleeves. But I haven't sewn in some time, due to work and a recent move.

The question: What is the ideal fabric type, in your opinion, for rectangle shirt with maximum stupid Vampire sleeves?

If you want the REALLY stupidly huge sleeves like my red one has, then definitely something very lightweight! Linen is best for 18th century shirts, but I have made some with cotton too.

I used a semi-sheer cotton for the red one, and since the sleeves were cut a metre wide I think the bulk in the wristband gathers would have been too much if I'd used anything much heavier. (I'm pretty sure it was cotton voile, but since it was a thrift store find there was no label.)

For my regular everyday shirts of low-to-average puffiness, my favourite fabric is the summer breeze linen from Pure Linen Envy.

Their Featherlight linen is a bit lighter and also good for shirts, though the light colours can be very slightly see through. I think I might be able to get away with metre wide sleeve in it, though the wristbands would be quite bulky. Definitely a great option for very big puffy shirts.

(I don't know where you live, but the shop is in Ontario and the pricing is very reasonable. If you're in the U.S. then Burnley & Trowbridge has a nice selection of linens, which I would buy if duty & shipping prices were not a thing. Though from your message it sounds like you're going to look in person at a fabric store, so I hope they have something nice!)

For comparison, this is the summer breeze:

And this is the featherlight:

#ask #shirts

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joanpeel · 1 month

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I need more hugely oversized cotton button ups for my 30s...lots of breezy linen parachute pants...easy slip on clogs...where do the Japanese buy their clothes?!

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butmakeitgayblog · 3 months

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Ooooo ooooooh OOOOOOOO

MBFW Lexa after the clexa wedding we all know is going to happen (right? RIGHT???)

In a slinky little white number to actually be able to dance and celebrate with Clarke and their people 🤤 FECK

That dress is just soft enough to pull up above her thighs easily for a little bit of action in the bridal quarters mid-reception when they sneak away for some alone time

It's not going to happen explicitly in the fic, but yeah they do end up married. Eventually. With baaabies 🥰

Anyway, yes very much that. Lexa never has any intention of keeping her dress after the big day, so it kind of gets a bit trashed in their wedding photos 🥴 she makes sure to save enough that there's scrapes of lace and beading left unscathed that Clarke can save for one of her over-the-top art creations or anniversary presents for the future that she knows without even having to ask is coming eventually. (Clarke comes through with a hand stitched and embroidered pocket square for one of Lexa's suits made of the dyed dress scraps for their 10 year anniversary, in case you're wondering)

So naturally that chaotic choice means only one thing in Abby's eyes: buy two dresses 🙃 one for flash and the photography shoot and one for the reception. Where Lexa had been fine heading to their reception and changing into some simple linen pants and a criminally low-cut, loose white blouse, instead Abby surprises her and insists on paying for the second number for her to change into because, quote, "oh, honey. I couldn't let you have your first dance in cotton blend 🙁"

12 years into being a part of this family and the Griffin women still keep Lexa on her toes

#anon #MBFW #the fact that Clarke wraps one of those long legs around her waist the second she sees her #and quetly fucks her against the venue's changing room mirror is simply something nobody needs to know

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liannelara-dracula · 1 year

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Shu Sakamaki in Real Life HCS

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Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

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🎻I probably won’t have much to say because I find his character to be ugh sometimes but I can’t imagine not creating hcs abt this mf.

🎻But it is difficult to come up with things about him, ngl.

🎻Anyhow, if you guys have seen these irl hcs before you’ll know I’m mostly sharing with you my general thoughts, and formulated opinions on this character so here we go!

🎻Okay, so I’m sure we all know he’s the heir and a prince of the vampire kingdom (I know its weird.) And I just have to say this because I don’t say it enough, I really feel like he acts differently in the demon world because he knows his dad will be mad.

🎻So you can expect Shu to be much more expressive as he is the heir, he represents his father and so he needs to be “lively”.

🎻 That being said, he attends gatherings, banquets, and many other events that his father may want him to.

🎻I will say that when he is in the demon world it is much different as he doesn’t act like himself.

🎻Apart from him is still the same in the sense that he is still a pervert.

🎻I mean we know he’ll be with low-ranking vampires or whatever just to get some.

🎻 After all, he has somewhat of an ego even if he doesn’t show it.

🎻So you know he most definitely does believe that because he is the heir he can move from one girl to the next with no strings attached.

🎻All for his advantage of course.

🎻Also speaking of his royalty life I really want to mention the fact that he is very annoyed by all the attention the girls give him.

🎻He literally can’t wait till he goes back to the human world where it's much quieter.

🎻However as a royal he does enjoy the theatre because he can hear classical music.

🎻In fact, he loves it most when he can watch the ballet performances.

🎻If there’s one thing he loves most it’s watching girls do ballet.

🎻He loves watching them practice especially because you know he’s a thigh guy. Apart from being an ass man.

🎻This is honestly where he might take an interest in a girl who's probably a dancer.

🎻I’ve literally made an aesthetic about this here.

🎻And you can read a lot about how he is at school in the demon world here.

🎻Oh btw he sleeps in only his underwear, that’s just how I see it. (and it's actually canon, I was laughing when I found out I was right.)

🎻I will say that he doesn’t laugh very often, he’ll just have a chuckle that makes anyone uncomfortable but when he full-on laughs it's so fucking rare.

🎻And it freaks out almost anyone, it even got Yui.

🎻He is such an ass I feel like he trolls anyone in, anyway, he can.

🎻His hair is so tangled and I bet he doesn’t wash it that often because he’s lazy

🎻He smells like cotton/linen and a bit of dust.

🎻The best actor to play him would be Toby Regbo.

🎻However the model I found on Pinterest is also a great representation of what he’d look like.

🎻In terms of attitude he really reminds me of Robert Pattinson because he trolls so much.

🎻The best way to bribe him is with steak, I swear it works every time.

🎻And I bet my entire ass that Reiji uses it for when he needs big favors.

🎻He loves to be comfortable so I feel like American Eagle, Hollister, Old Navy, and H&M are his go to.

🎻I know he loves cardigans so much so he’s probably extremely picky about the kind he buys.

🎻That’s why he only has three, this is actually canon, I believe it was in one of the game translations in Reiji’s route where he was looking for his jacket and asked Reiji. And Reiji told him it can’t be that hard to find since he has only three, lol.

🎻And idk why but I just feel like he miss places them all around the house.

🎻I also think he keeps so much junk under his bed.

🎻“Huh, I don’t remember that being there.”

🎻If he gets really hot, he just throws his cardigan under the bed.

🎻He once owned a cat, it's not that he went out of his way and bought one. It sorta followed him and so he started to take care of it a little. It lived outside mostly because Reiji wouldn’t tolerate it, but occasionally Shu kept the cat in his room.

🎻He has no idea where the cat went and whether or not it's alive since he hardly kept watch of it.

🎻Although he sometimes wonders where it went, and I think he liked the cat since she sometimes got into Reiji’s things. It was amusing to say the least.

🎻Forgets he puts his music sheets on his bed and ends up sitting on them.

🎻That’s why they’re always somewhat crumbled and folded.

🎻Never makes his bed, he just throws the blanket on and thanks to the butler the room is kept clean.

🎻Otherwise it’d end up like Ayato’s room, to which the butler can never keep up with.

🎻Because he loves music he has vinyl records, and countless CDs in some boxes he keeps under his bed.

🎻He keeps a couple of his favorite books which are in Latin.

🎻Something also tells me if he had a journal, he’d write only Latin because none of his brothers can.

🎻Because he used to be a cashier, he still has his name tag from then and his worker vest.

🎻He keeps in hidden in a corner of his closet.

🎻Speaking of which his closet is so empty and he literally has repeats of the same pants and shirts.

🎻It’s mostly because they were on a good sale.

🎻He will wear the same clothes for like three days or more and not even change out of them.

🎻Doesn’t brush his hair, just goes to school with bed head.

🎻Keeps his door locked so triplets don’t think about pranking him with some clown-related things since he has a fear of them. It's mostly because he’s learned that the hard way.

🎻It's also because he fears they may bring in a caterpillar.

🎻I could totally see Yui trying to feed a caterpillar and he’d flip out in panic and leave immediately.

🎻He never will admit to his fears and covers them up quite well because he wants no one to know that, especially a girl. lol.

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