#i have the right color yarn still i think

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - part 3

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Unedited.

Summary: Gordon’s committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares

Part 1 here | Part 2 here

Also just added to AO3

In this part: Virgil

“Your brother,” Virgil says, sinking heavily across from Scott at his work desk. The words trail… “Infuriating.” The chair was only there some of the time - mostly when more than one of them had to be on a conference call. 

Scott raises an eyebrow, his typing unhindered by his younger brother suddenly resting his cheeks on the wooden desk in defeat. “And? What did Gordon do now?” 

It’s of no consequence to Virgil that his big brother can tell just who’s the problem. It's obviously Gordon. They all have their little tiffs every now and then, but none of them would ever headdesk over the youngest, John's too far away for arguments to linger, and since Virgil is coming to Scott…

Virgil and Gordon work together too closely sometimes.

The interesting part is Gordon's off duty; he was called out to Eddington to spend some time on site with his marine research and would continue to be on leave for another four days.

“He leave you with a parting gift?” Scott asks. “Replaced your hair gel with Vaseline? Reorganized your paints? Switched your phone to pig latin?”

“Ugh, do not put those ideas out in the Universe,” Virgil warns, warily raising his head from his hands to glance around the villa. He doesn’t put it past Gordon to have ears around, especially those named Alan. Feeling safe that no one is hiding nearby, he swings back to Scott, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of familiar stitching resting on the desk underneath Scott’s coffee. “You!”  

Virgil clambers for the square, pushing the mug to where the desk is bare. Luckily, Scott’s mostly drunk it through and so the liquid barely swirls halfway up the side in his haste to grab for the fabric below it. 

He glares at Scott.  

“It’s finished.” He raises the granny square up to Scott’s eye level, his fingertips white where he holds up the coffee-stained yarn. “How is this one finished?”  The confusion on Scott’s face dissipates, and Virgil notices the quirk of his smile that tells him Scott is biting the inside of his cheek to keep his expression in check.  “Why are you laughing? Stop it,” he says. 

Scott takes this as permission, of course, to crack a smile, and Virgil’s eyebrow twitches indignantly. 

“This is about the blanket, then?” Scott calmly and gently pries his coaster from Virgil’s fingers and straightens it back on the desk, followed by the mug in its proper position. “Before you start shouting betrayal, Gordon is still a shit and equal-opportunity pest. John wove in the ends for me last time he was here.” 

“John did?” 

“Yes.” 

Virgil deflates; the sigh deeply lodged in his chest as he squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Do you think he’d be willing to do about, oh, 200 more? And how do you know about the blanket?”

“Neither one of you are entirely subtle.” 

“Gordon figured it out, didn’t he?”

Scott hesitates. Nods. “There’s really only so much you can do with them. Retaliate, or make something. Gordon knows you well enough to know you won’t discard them. So…”

“So, he already knows I’m making something. Left all of these ends unwoven on purpose? Chose the most offensive colors known to humankind, specifically to annoy me?” Virgil shakes his head, groaning. “Nevermind, I don’t need you to answer.” 

“You know who he is,” Scott says with a grinning shrug. “I can’t let you disown him.” 

“Pity.” 

“Is that what dragged you down here all defeated?” 

Virgil points a finger. “I am not defeated. I’m frustrated. And I’m not sure there’s a point to all of it if there’s no element of surprise.” 

“Virg-”

“I’ve been trying for,” he checks his watch, “five hours to arrange these squares together, and nothing looks right. So what do I do? I take a break, weave in some ends, come back to it after. And after - I have more ends and still no design.” 

“That sounds pretty defeated to me.” 

“He wants me to go insane!” 

“He wants you to embrace his chaos,” Scott amends. “Come now, Virgil. You got this. Let us help,” he encourages, and Virgil has no choice but to sigh as his brother reaches for the comm to Thunderbird Five. “John, we have a situation.”

Their brother smirks when he answers. His hair is a shade darker than usual and waving in its wet, unstyled shape, indicating that John’s only recently gotten out of the shower. He’s dressed, but hasn’t switched his glasses for contacts. “You know, that’s my line,” he responds dryly. “Good Morning, Virgil.” 

It’s 3PM. 

But it is the first time Virgil has had a chance to speak to John since he spent the bulk of his morning with the project at hand. Virgil usually checks in with their distant space monitor during his morning coffee, so Virgil internally scolds himself for the rude gesture he was about to make and recognizes the irritation he feels is not John’s - or even Scott’s - fault. He waves instead. 

It’s easier to let Scott explain. As the oldest of them, he has a way of focusing on facts and details for emotionally charged situations. It’s one of the reasons he’s a great commander. Of course, if he’s the one emotionally charged, that’s a different story.  

“Show me his stitches, again?” 

Now, John however, he’s concise - often three steps ahead before he clues the rest of them in. 

Scott picks up the coaster and pushes his chair back to come around the desk to give John a better view. Once Virgil spins his chair to fully face John’s hologram, Scott places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” John tells him, matter-of-fact. “Crochet what ends you can when you join squares together. Measure everything so I can get enough fabric, and I’ll help you put a lining on it.” He says the list of instructions with the same inflection as when directing a rescue, his hands flying across the resources in front of him. 

It’s not a bad idea. With a lining, the most weaving he might need to do would be ensuring all ends were on the “wrong” side of the squares.  

“What about if something pokes through the spaces of the granny square?” 

John raises an eyebrow at Virgil’s question. “He’ll deal. He knew what he was doing when he didn’t finish them off properly. Don’t worry, we’ll find something so obnoxiously fishy, he won’t care. I found a pattern here with anemones in little hats.” 

Virgil can’t help but giggle at that, and John smiles at him brightly, his eyes larger behind the wire frames. 

“I’ll keep looking,” he tells him. “We can keep workshopping ideas.”

“Thanks, Jay. Now about the arranging,” Scott says. “I have some ideas about that, Virgil, if you’re willing to show me what you have.”

Grateful, Virgil nods. “Another set of eyes would be great.”

“F-A-B! Let’s go make order out of chaos.”

#fic: grannies #gavii scribit #Gordon tracy #Virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #crafty tracys

[tinned-beef]

i woke up this morning and thought to myself, ‘i need to make something.’ and then i spent the majority of today working on this:

it’s five’s mittens from redaurorarora’s fic seven types of love ! here’s the excerpt i took to make these:

anyways here’s the start of what will (hopefully) be a little series of me recreating little things in tua fics. i thought this would be a fun little thing to make and i’m pretty happy with how they turned out!

#i freehanded this so they are NOT matching but that’s the point anyways #also the colors aren’t exactly right i just used what i already had #the orange yarn is a completely different yarn size than the others but yk what. it’s something klaus would do anyways. #anyways i WILL be wearing these i think they’re so fun #if anyone has ideas of things i can make please let me know!!! #my next idea is something from comes and goes by hujwernoo #exciting! #btw if anyone knows if redaurorarora has a tumblr could you let me know so i can tag them <3 #the umbrella academy #tua #my rambles #my doodles #<- technically it’s not a drawing but it’s still art #ALSO yes i know the kittens are knitted in the fic but i do not have that much belief in my knitting skills i’m a lot better at crochet #MITTENS* #edit: i’m realizing that the pattern on the blue mitten got messed up? at the top? #i’ll check it out tomorrow morning idk what happened there #i skipped a row or something

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Guessssss what time it is??

7am

Guess who's still awake?

Me

Guess who has to feed their dog in two hours, and get ready for work in five hours?

Me

And guess who has to have a camp meeting directly after their work shift? And has to actually be coherent and make a schedule and discuss their ideas and needs for the summer?

Yeah you probs got it

Guess who won't be coherent for it?

Yeah

#i just feel like shit in my brain rn #i tried to start a new knitting project but the yarn was not cooperating so its just strewn all over my floor #ive played a lot of minecraft #i started watching the unsleeping city. i fucking love it so far #and noe im watching a youtuber react th five seconds flat by lizzy mcalpine #oh yeah i listened to that whole album earlier #after googling an ex to see how happy and successful she is without me #im moving in june. i just finished unpacking from when i moved in August #i think moving actually kills a part of your soul every time you do it #i lived in michigan most of my life. then moved to illinois when i turned 18 #then a year and a half later i moved to wisconsin #now ive moved far far away from there. but it hasnt gone well. i moved in with my sibling #but i was only able to get a part time job. so im living paycheck to paycheck. incredibly not doing well #i dont like the environment here. the people are not the way that im used to #like im used to midwest nice. but here people are threatening to stab each other on the subway. its not ideal #there werent any fall colors. its only snowed twice. its just not for me. but i still did a lot of work to get here #i left everything i was used to. all of my friends. i cant remember where i was goinf with this #but my sibling and i are both struggling. so we decided to move back in with our parents for a year to save up #we're going to put what we used to pay in rent into a savings account for a down payment on a house #but right after finally unpacking i have to pack everything up again and rush back home #im just tired. so exhausted. mentally and physically. physically its gonna hit in the middle of my shift #mentally its been hitting every damn day. and i cant remember the last time i felt happy without also feeling #depressed or anxious or uncomfortable or unwanted or out of place #want to know whats happened so far? learned my best friend fucked my ex and now its not the same anymore #got a terrible ear infection. got bronchitis. one of the few friends i made moved out of the country #learned im not a beneficiary in my moms life insurance but my siblings are. learned my grandpa got engaged but he never told me #learned my parents bought a plot of land but they never told me. i think people just forget about me. or dont care that im here #i decided im gonna go no contact with my parents and grandpa after the year of living with them cuz i dont deserve this shit #anyway bye

[ckret2]

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble. 

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow. 

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you." 

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub." 

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly. 

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[dev1lm4n]

coward

pairings: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which joel wanted to stake claim over you, but he's too much of a coward to do so. aka jealous emotionally pent-up joel

word count: 3.5k

warnings: suggestive, not explicit just mentions of sexual relationships

notes: this was ultimately cliché as shit but i NEED to write it

Clank. Clank.

Sunset has fallen upon the town just mere minutes ago. Gleeful chirping of the local birds were quickly replaced by a chorus of cicadas, loud clattering of metal cutleries, and scratchy scrapes against plates. There was a foreign atmosphere settling between tonight’s dinner participants and to be honest, it’s much weirder than you anticipated.

It’s foreboding; alike to those family dinners you’d attend to exchange bland pleasantries with cousins and nephews. The kind where you’d have to swerve from uncomfortable questions probing into your personal life, whether it’s your marital status or your paycheck. Except there wasn’t that much of a crowd tonight. Just you, your ‘date’, and Joel Miller.

Joel Miller was someone you couldn’t label properly.

You weren’t exaggerating in the slightest bit when it comes to your complex relationship with him, if you could even call what you had with him a relationship to begin with.

It’s just too messy and embarrassing. It’s like trying to pick apart a tangled up ball of yarn, hoping you’d figure out when things began and when it ended.

Has it even ended? The particular question had you mindlessly stabbing the roasted chicken you managed to cook up. It’s a little overcooked and mildly underseasoned, but it’s better than the alternative. Joel’s staple, which was heated up cans of Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni, had always been reserved for those who’d acquired his unique tastes. You and Ellie were his number one frequenter when it comes to it.

Joel looked displeased by the pleasantries. His nose crinkled briefly, but he played along regardless. “I go on patrols most of the time, but I could fix things too here and there.”

“So.. Joel, right? What do you do ‘round Jackson?”

Jack managed to break up the everlasting silence with his low-register voice. You assumed that despite the initial awkwardness, he had at least enjoyed the food, considering the heaping glob of mashed potatoes he’s adding onto his plate.

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve never gone on a patrol before,” Jack shared briefly, only to beam a shy smile towards you. He’s a cute boy you won’t lie. Maybe that’s why you scouted him off  the bar last week. “I take care of the horses with her.”

“Jack’s also from Texas, you know. Thought you two would get along,” you opined.

You watched the cocky raise of eyebrows Joel did and the half-smile following after. He’s silently judging the excuse of a man you’ve brought home tonight, that or he’s just not in the mood for a late night chat after such a troublesome day.

Joel had always been an incredibly difficult man to read. You still think you could read a horse better than him. You’ve gotten better at it throughout the years you’ve spent alongside him, especially after the trip around America for Ellie’s sake, but it’s still a hit or miss most times. It almost felt like he kept changing the numbers to the safe. Just when you thought you’ve cracked the code, he’ll have you come right back to square one.

Joel’s mouth twitched at your silly little assumption, his face contorted as if asking you if you’re for real. You shrugged, amused in a sense. It’d be good for him to start making actual friends, right? Right now his circle was a limited bunch with you being the only non-family acquaintance. His social skills were something you and Tommy are both working on these days. Plus, Jack’s easy on the eyes, so it’s two birds in one stone. 

“I see you still have a thing for Texas boys, hm?”

Joel teased you, this time not even bothering to flash you one of his degrading glares. He pretended like he’s really into the colorful medley of roasted root vegetables you’ve roasted, when you know for a fact he hated any kind of greens. He’d only pretend to like it when Ellie’s around, preaching around about its importance. You realized that you’re getting sidetracked from the real offense he’s just given. A jab of jealousy you’d say.

What kind of game is he playing? Was it another one of his ‘push guys away from you because all men are shit and you’d get hurt’ game? Jack was such a sweetheart, he didn’t even catch on to Joel’s implications, instead he settled on laughing alongside your awkward chuckles.

“Friends?”

“How long have you two been friends?”

Jack’s eyes sparked with curiosity, looking like he’s genuinely in awe of the fond illusion you two must’ve convinced him with.

Joel grinned, a corner of his full mouth lifted at the thought. He almost looked pleased at the premise.

“Two years,” you chimed in for a quick save.

“Man, I thought you two were together,” Jack confessed, salad dressing smeared lightly on his top lip. “Can’t say I ain’t happy when she came sizing me up for a date.”

Your gaze cruised back towards Jack, fluttering a sweet smile his way in case he finally caught up to Joel’s inappropriateness. All you saw was just an innocent look of acknowledgement. His cheeks brightened and swept by a soft wave of pink when he noticed you looking his way, appearing to be thrilled that you spared him a chunk of your attention.

Such a sweetheart. It wouldn’t be so bad if you actually got serious with him; move into a small cottage house, raise chickens and sheeps. Then you could finally bask in stability and mutual understanding. The two things you’re currently lacking.

A silent beat passed at his words. 

You humored him with an obscure chuckle, but it was painfully obvious how the atmosphere dimmed and crumpled ever so slightly around the edges. It’s not the first time the two of you were mistaken as a couple by other villagers, even Tommy and his wife were dead set convinced the first time you sauntered in with him. The months spent on the road with Ellie and him were life changing to say the least and you’d like to think the two of you were bonded by such traumatic events. He needed a purpose, you needed refuge. It’s always been like that from the start. 

There wasn’t even a tinge of romance to humor. Once in the past, you made the mistake of giving in to your ‘delusions’. You wondered whether the silent brief touches he made whenever he walked beside you meant something more. You wondered whether the way he reacted exaggeratedly when you prick your fingers on a rotten door frame meant that he cared. You wondered whether the confessions he made while you were curled up, riding out a fever from a stab wound meant that he wanted you. Those pathetic flourishing feelings were stomped by the heavy soles of his boots the one time you asked.

You could still remember vividly the terrible things he said and the way you sobbed your heart out at that. Thinking back, you’d understand why he said what he said. It was wrong of you to humor such thoughts.

Jack hummed fondly into his handkerchief, neatly cleaning up his fresh shaven complexion that always seemed to make him look a few years younger than what he truly is. He’s more of your age, something you took into account when he came up in your radar. That must mean he’s more suitable for you, right? Unlike Joel who’s reeling into his late fifties; who’s probably too old for all the ‘childish’ shit you put him through. Jack’s also kind and considerate. He went out of his way to get you a basket of fresh apples when you’re sweating bullets trying to catch a loose mare. He never scowled or snapped at you. He’s good for you.

“No. We’re just really good friends,” Joel spoke up firmly into the warm summer air.

It looked like he’s finished with his meal, assuming from how squeaky clean his plate has gotten. Good that he’s filling up. You’ve always liked guys with a little more pudge to them. Not that it mattered. You two were just really good friends as he put it.

“I don’t think I can stay friends with a gal so pretty,” Jack chimed in flirtatiously, a charming smile etched its way across his lips.

You smiled in return, making sure to count to three before letting your eyes wander back to where Joel was sitting. It might be wrong for you to be searching for another man’s reaction when you’re here having sweet Jack as your date. What was certainly wrong was how your stomach finally rumbled with nervous butterflies when you saw his expression. When you saw the small itch disrupting his collected expression; setting his lips into an unimpressed thin line, a small vein prominent on his neck.

God, you wish you could capture the moment on camera.

The rest of the evening went by civilly; you’d expect your really good friend to rip Jack’s head right off when he kept making those stupid flirtatious jokes. Joel looked like he was trying his best to stay grounded and rational, but it's no secret he's holding back a dirty scowl. You caught the way he stuck his tongue onto his inner cheek, or the way he scrutinized each and every joke your date made. Forcing him to explain it thoroughly and embarrassing him in the process; you know he’s an ass, but tonight he’s really testing your limits.

You’d imagine he’d have an excuse as to why he’s behaving this way, like how your veggies tasted weirdly bland he couldn’t hold back his face. It’s unbelievably silly how he thought you’d believe such things at your grown age. That’s another thing to deal with. 

At the moment, you just needed to focus on bidding Jack a sweet goodbye. His smooth blond hair glimmered underneath the moonlight as he leaned in for a kiss. One you didn’t expect quite yet, but you didn’t have the heart to push him away. He’s been a good company after all.

As you expected, it didn’t feel right. His lips were soft and tasted like fresh oranges, but it didn’t feel right. Was it a mistake to keep him at bay when you’re still unable to let go of your peculiar crush? Probably. You were deep in thought as you pulled the front door closed. A gust of wind blowing over your shoulder while you let the guilt marinate into every inch of your skin. 

You felt icky.

“I don’t like him.”

Joel’s disdain traveled quickly along the walls, down the hallway, and onto the exact spot where you’re standing. You turned on your heel to face him, your lips drew back in a snarl. After everything you went through tonight, all the pillow cushioning so that Jake doesn’t feel all the more offended by his audacity, and you’re rewarded with this? You expected him to do one thing and he couldn’t even make it right.

“Yeah?” you piped up, eager to rile him up. “Well, I like him a lot.”

He’s used to listening to your childish preambles. It didn’t take him long to learn how much fun you have just by disobeying his rules, going through with whatever your heart desires, even when it poses a great danger to your own safety. You’re always tricky to deal with, but it’s the only thing that keeps his heart pounding at his old age. The only thing that made him feel alive, thawed after years of surviving. Maybe that’s why he still persisted in keeping you around.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. He sounded like bad news.”

Fucking sweetheart? You scoffed, sounding offended. He would always use that nickname whenever he’s trying to get something through your thick head, whether it’s to stop you from jumping head first into a pond or in this case, to stop you from making rash decisions. He knew what he does to you. He knew that you’d always listen, but not tonight.

“If you spend just one second of your precious time listening to what he has to say, you might actually see what I see,” you glowered. “You were fucking with him the entire time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were looking down at him, Joel. You always do that. Think everyone’s beneath you.”

“I wasn’t. He’s just a little.. well, flimsy for you.”

“Oh fuck off. You don’t know a thing about me.”

That was a complete lie. He knew more things about you than you’d like, like the way you like your coffee in the morning and which horses were your favorite.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.”

You solidified your answer, trudging your way past his shoulders like some agitated teenager. Joel thought you looked cute upset and maybe that’s sick of him, but he couldn’t help but be entertained at the way your lips jutted out in disagreement. You’re like this young new thing he’s obsessed with.

“Okay, okay. Come here. Don’t be upset at me. Jake is a nice boy.. I guess,” he gave in to the commotion you made, although he still felt somewhat bitter. 

Jake’s not that much different from what he’s like when he’s younger. Way before his kid, his botched marriage, and the apocalypse. When he’s twenty with a vision for life. It vexed him to admit that he was truly a good man for you. That the man you chose for once wasn’t a scheming jackass. “He worked with horses?”

“Yeah,” you gave in, flashing him the look. The one where you’re further emphasizing that you’re certain with your decisions, that you don’t need him guiding you towards what’s wrong and right like he always has. “He’s good with the horses.. and with me too. Gave me apples when it’s in season.”

Joel’s dark eyebrows curved at your statement. His arms lifted further up to rest against the thin of his waist, a judgemental stance in action. Did you think things like that were peak romance? What about all the times he personally executed all those clickers lurking over you? Whether it’s with a gun or a knife, he’s sure that he’d top Jack when it comes to things he did for you.

“Well then I’m happy for you,” he concluded with a curt nod, doing the one thing you didn’t expect him to do. You scrutinized his expression in response.

“You’re happy for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go on a date with him.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m gonna get him to kiss me again.”

“Wow. Sounds fun.”

“I’m gonna get him to fuck me so hard you could hear me in your stupid room, Joel.”

That one surely struck a nerve deep within him, judging from the way his lips contorted in disbelief. You’ve never been so.. vulgar in front of him. Not once have you mentioned anything about your sexual desires in front of him and so he thought you didn’t even know those kinds of things existed despite your big age. 

Maybe you’re untouched by the twisted world you’re living in. He assumed you were this sweet girl with an innocent crush on him, eyes twinkling with admiration everytime he walked in a room. He loved the attention, shamefully so, and he’d love to savor it as long as possible. Even when it felt wrong. He didn’t think it was possible for you to look at another in that manner. The thought had him marching towards you, large figure towering over.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” you challenged him.

“Because you’re doing this for attention.”

“I’m not,” you struggle to keep the act upright.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you actually like him. Tell me you like that silly boy.”

You gaped at his request. Adam’s apple bobbing reluctantly as you gathered every last bit of your plummeting confidence to look up into his eyes. They were arrogant; browns peering down at you like he’s just delighted to domineer, to reassert the magnitude of his influence towards you. He caged you in with merely a look. 

This spited you. He’s always been like this. Give you some room to explore so that you don’t feel trapped with him, but he’d always give a little tug to your leash whenever you forget your position. You were his, before he was yours. That was rule number one.

“I like him,” you repeated yourself, bracing for the onslaught of tsunami he might release at your stubbornness. “He’s kind and sweet and lovely and.. and he has the balls to tell me how he felt about me.”

His expression of disapproval seared through your skin, leaving you raw and vulnerable to whatever it is he’s going to say right back at you. You could tell that he was livid, although he's clearly trying his best to be the better man out of the two of you and stay grounded. 

He knew what you're like. He knew that you're riling him up so that he'd cave in to your requests, because God was it terribly hard to stay put when you're looking at him like that. Round pupils bared into his own. Joel felt the revolting urge to soothe your worries, to utter meaningless words of assurance, to validate the bond he's been trying his best to suspend. His desire festered like it was contagious, blurring the line of boundaries.

“If this is about last week, you know my answers remained unchanged.”

"Why?"

You sounded hopeless and it's clawing at his skin.

"It's unfair to you."

"You know what's unfair, Joel? Acting like you gave a damn, then shutting me out of your life like I meant nothing."

You scoffed. You weren't just desperate for an answer now, no, you were furious. Angry that he thought he could make the decisions for you, that he could be the one to determine which things were right and wrong for you when he knew for a fact that you're a grown woman with your own mind to rely on. Angry that he'd put his self worth in the gutter. Angry that he thought you'd judge him even after the things you've been through together; endless drives through the motherland, camping under a sea of stars, dancing with death itself.

Was it that bizarre of an idea? You plucked up the courage to get even closer. The frilly yellow ruffles of your sundress grazing his crossed forearm.

You poked an accusing finger into his chest.

"Drowning yourself in your pathetic pity party because oh, you're so broken. So undeserving of love."

Your furrowed eyebrows drove him insane.

"Yet you still keep me around. Couldn’t push me away because God knows you need me more than you'd like."

Your labored breath teased the column of his neck.

"That's what's unfair. The fucking waiting. The dancing around. Put me out of my misery, Joel."

He didn't know what to say. Silenced for once.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me."

You dared him, just like how he dared you. Joel felt conflicted. His vision glued onto the tips of his worn down leather boots as if it’d provide some kind of answer to your demands, He inhaled sharply, before letting out a shaky sigh. Afraid that he’d promise you something he couldn’t own up to, especially since his sharp edges are now dulled from age. 

Joel couldn’t be selfish. No, he couldn’t be that person any longer when he has one foot in the grave.

He knew his end was approaching.

Subtly, but surely. His heart tightened sporadically every time he’d run a little too fast. His joints were stiff and useless, enough that Tommy threatened to pull him off patrols if he kept pushing at his pace. He recalled the incident from his last trip. How he barely escaped a loose infected because his senses had dampened. Your voice also seemed to become more and more faint; he couldn’t even hear the list of items you’ve burdened him with on a shopping trip. Whether you needed a jar of raisins or a pair of shears.

Claiming you was selfish.

He decided on that awhile ago. Far before you’ve realized your infatuation with him, far before you offer such a sweet proposition. 

“Come back to me when you stop being a fucking coward, Joel.”

His throat grew parched at the buzzing silence. He willed himself to touch you, even when it burned his finger tips and sizzled the tip of his ears red. You looked furious, but that cute expression faltered in a miniscule of a second when he cupped the side of your cheek. His thumb stroked agonizingly slow as if you'd evaporate into thin air if he was too brash.

He'd always thought you’re beautiful. One of a kind. Whether it’s when you’re drooling embarrassingly or when you’re dressed up for the commune’s party. But you look the most unbelievable when you’re worried for him.

Was that selfish of him? He traced over your bottom lip gently, feeling the plush material underneath. How he longed to press his lips onto yours. Would it taste sweet? Would you feel soft? His bottom lip quivered, unable to form an answer.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #tlou #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine

[taybatwo2]

Spelldon Monster High Custom

Once I saw that G3 Deuce had green skin, I knew I had to try my hand at making Spelldon Cauldronello. I re-haired him and flocked the sides of his head with yarn to imitate dreads. I sewed him a jacket, shirt, joggers, and socks. I made his little potions (out of beads), earrings (also out of beads), necklaces, gloves, pointed ears (I wish I could have gotten them smoother, but they were so delicate that I could not sand them without them breaking), shoes (out of paperboard and papier-mâché), and repainted his face (my first full face repaint and daaang was that difficult to try and make his eyes and eyebrows look related to one another).

He’s not perfect, but he was super fun to pose and creating him was a HUGE learning experience (like to start sealing all of my thread knots with fabric glue).

You’re more than welcome to draw fanart/make your own based on mine, just tag me- I’d love to see them. Feel free to comment what you like/dislike think I should improve on. :)

Edit: thank you for all the sweet comments in the reblogs guys. You’re all making my day. :)

More under the cut

Close ups of his left side (I like how this ear turned out the best).

And his right side. I couldn’t get this side smoothed out to save my life, haha. Hopefully his earrings distract enough from it. Keeping beads from old bracelets come in handy! These were just the right size for him. I repainted the lower earring in black, with a stripe of purple, and added silver Ancient Greek designs on either side.

One more close up of his left ear and earring (I added a purple pentagram in the center of the silver Greek designs and the color shift sparkle paint around the rim). His upper earring is the same as his right lower earring, but has an orange stripe.

His face-up took awhile, but it is very rewarding to finally give him a face. I tried to make it look like the factory g1 monster high face up and took a lot of inspiration from his older sister Casta’s pupils. I gave him darker purple eyes, with the yellow/gold zig-zags. I gave him three moles, instead of just the one that Casta has, to mix it up a little. I did take a little inspiration from G3 for his eyebrows to add some orange and purple streaks in the front and a cut in his left eyebrow (I don’t know if that is still trendy, but I think it looks cool). The eyebrows are still not super symmetrical, but I already sealed it. I went back and forth on what I wanted his lip colors to be (I know I wanted something two toned) but finally decided on a dark purple upper lip, with a green outlined lower lip.

Also G3 heads are SUPER difficult to try and reattach (and remove) and have to be VERY squishy to put back on their bodies (even after I had trimmed down the neck peg).

Okay, onto his wardrobe! I wanted to imitate Casta’s color pallet: black, orange, purple, silver (and sparkles and studs), while bringing in more “witchy” themes (the buckles, stripe socks, and pentagrams), and his scaritage from his mama Circe (hence the potions, boars on his shirt and shoes, the greek vase designs and the boar designs being black on orange -like the Ancient Greek vases). Even on the Greek designs, I put some teeny tiny pentagrams (namely on his jacket sand socks).

His jacket took the longest (his shoes were the second longest). It is fully lined (the sleeves have a white lining to keep staining to a minimum), and working pockets. I liked the sparkly material I found, but does it shed like crazy (I used it for his collar, cuffs, pockets, and the bottom of his jacket in the back, and wrong side-out for his sleeves -they still have silver sparkles showing though and it doesn’t shed…but it will catch on things). I used thin ribbon for the outside of his pockets (next time I will fabric glue the ends shut on all my ribbons and a thicker ribbon for the bottom of his coat), and bent some wire into buckles. I also used ribbon wire and looped black thread over it to make it look like a zipper. I used fabric paint for the pattern down the front and REALLY hope it stays on there.

I really wanted a mesh back to his coat (I love how that part turned out), and then added this purple sparkly ribbon to his sleeves. He was going to have another pentagram in the back but it was too much (but it left a cool shadow of the star after I removed it).

His gloves are made of mesh and ribbon (with glitter fabric glue continuously added on top of each other, and then painted silver, to make the spikes on his knuckles -same thing I did with his choker and shoes). His nails are painted black with the same color flash glaze paint as part of his earrings.

Okay onto his main outfit without the coat (he’s much more fun and easier to pose without his jacket).

“Spelldon, please move your necklace out of the way, so we can see your shirt better, thank you.”

Close up of his wild boar and Greek vase designs on his shirt (done in fabric paint). I REALLY love how the boar turned out as I was SUPER nervous I was going to mess it up. Having a boar/Greek vase design on an orange shirt was also inspired by @spookberry ‘s design of Spelldon. His necklace pendant was another bead I had (and it worked great for attacking thread too).

Side and back of his outfit (you can see some of that stray black glitter).

“‘Scuse me Spelldon, can you lift your shirt so we can see you joggers better? Thank you.” His joggers/capri’s and socks were inspired by @peppapigvevo ‘s Spelldon design. Once again I used ribbon, that sparkly material for his waistband and cuffs, and silver fabric paint for Greek vase design.

I attached a chain to his joggers and added these potion bottles (while Casta looks like she uses more magic spells and incantations through her singing, I like to think Spelldon uses potions -more like his mom). I made these potions out of wire, beads, thread and air-dry clay.

Onto his shoes and socks. I made the shoes out of paperboard and paper-maché. I wanted them to be boar themed while still having pentagrams and studs on them. They turned out a bit wonky (and a tad too long -but it helps him stand up, haha), but I spent too much time on them to redo them, haha. His shoe sole I also painted with that sparkle flash glaze paint too. I also gave him the striped socks, because I love striped socks and tights on witches.

“Thanks for holding still Spelldon, and being patient with me.” I’m going to make another post or two with comparisons with his sister, some of my other customs, and some vampire that claims he knows him or something, heehee.

Oh yeah! My sketches for him:

#spelldon cauldronello #spelldon #monster high doll #monster high dolls #monster high #mh #doll custom #monster high custom doll #monster high custom #spelldon doll #spelldon Custom #customsbyaleta

[unidentifiedmammal]

Okay i am still procrastinating on a larger/more comprehensive post but heres some of the colors i have so far from lichens, both AM and BWM (Ammomia method, sometimes called ammonia fermentation but there's no actual bacterial activity; then the boiling water method, literally what it sounds like)

I took them under 3 different indoor light sources to try to show the variance of the colors, sadly not the sun as it is hiding behind the clouds as of late

from left to right: first two lavender-like purple are silk, dyed with an fuzzily-ID'd lecanora/ochrolechia like lichen that was AM prepared; the second one used the same lichens but prepared different (second ammonia soak)

the third one is wool using a similar lichen that was also AM prepared, i was almost worried it wouldnt work/i messed up the vat because i set the pH too low but surprisingly it didn't brown out and turned a lovely pink salmon color

the white is the base color of the silk

the fifth one is some french angora rabbit that i dyed using ruffle lichens via the BWM method; a lovely intense orange

the 6th and 8th were dyed with ruffle lichens (BWM) as well a long time ago so i don't recall the details

the 7th was dyed with usnea lichens (BWM) around the same time as 6 and 8

Finally, the last two tiny strings were AM dyed a long time ago and i almost forgot about making them!

Of course, all lichens should be collected from deadfall, not directly from a tree/rock/etc to avoid overharvesting. It's also important to keep chemical safety in mind if you work with ammonia, or even things like alum and vinegar!

All the yarn was spun myself on a drop spindle too, after dyeing the fiber clouds (very technical term i know)

I have more posts i want to make on lichen dyes and the making/using thereof once i get my head screwed back on correctly, specifically some recent shenanigans concerning the first three yarns! the chemical pigment itself, the history, the troubleshooting, etc. Which i think will be very cool

Bonus drop spindle, and a ruffle lichen comparison!

You can even see an orange spot on the otherwise minty slate green of the ruffle lichens where it had started to decompose!

#fiber arts #yarn #eri silk #wool #angora fiber #handspinning #natural dyeing #art #earth skills #crafts #ammonia fermentaion #lichen dyes #drop spindle

[tellmealovestory]

Crochet Sweater

Summary: You started a new hobby and your first project doesn't come out the way you hoped.

Warnings: A few lines of suggestive dialogue.

Spooktober Masterlist

“It’s finished!” You exude excitement as you skip up to Eddie carrying a black bag stuffed with orange tissue paper that crinkles every time you swing it back and forth in your hands.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie teases, grimacing when you slap his chest playfully. “Ouch, lady! You wound me.” 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics because you clearly didn’t. Shoving the bag into his arms you wait with bated breath as he pushes aside some of the tissue paper to peer inside. His eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead, lips turning down into a frown and your stomach twists and turns like a pretzel. 

“It’s a Christmas sweater?” he asks with confusion. “Little early for Christmas presents isn’t it? Only October last I checked.” 

“What? No,” you say. “It’s the sweater that Freddy Cougar wears from that movie you won’t stop talking about.” 

“Cougar? You mean Kreuger?” 

You shrug your shoulders and scrunch your face up. Cougar, Kreuger it’s all the same to you. It’s a horror movie villain and you refuse to watch horror movies because you get scared easily and despite Eddie’s promises that he won’t let anything happen to you you still refuse to go to the movies and see it with him. 

“Huh,” Eddie says, pulling the crochet sweater fully out of the bag. The tissue paper crinkles again and he carelessly tosses the bag to the floor, his confusion only growing when he sees it fully. 

All he had told you were the colors were red and green so naturally you had chosen colors that were bright and cheery. A bold green, almost neon like something the Grinch’s fur would be covered in. A red that was cherry colored, the color of ribbons and bows strung up on porches during the holiday season. 

Holding it up to his body he doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter that bursts out loud and hard until his shoulders are shaking and he can barely breath. One sleeve is far longer than the other, covering his rings that rest on his fingers, the other only about a quarter long. It’s wide, but short and as you stare at it and then him you’re mortified. 

“Oh…” 

It’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. In your defense it was your first attempt at a new hobby, but still…

“You don’t have to wear that,” you blurt, reaching out for it to take it back and shove it in the bottom of a dumpster in a part of town that no one goes to, but Eddie is quicker than you, pulling it out of your reach as he slips it over his head. 

Dear god it’s even uglier on him and he’s a man that could pull anything off. 

Your face hurts from how hot it’s burning, but Eddie seems to be having the time of his life. Using the arm that has the longer sleeve he flops his hand about in the air and grins like a mad man. There’s a sliver of midriff showing where you didn’t get the measurements quite right and when he turns around and spins like a ballerina you can see some of the yarn you used already unraveling near the back and the bottom.

“Eddie. If you care about me at all you’re going to take that thing off and burn it in the backyard.”

“Naw. Gonna wear this on our next date. Make everybody in this town jealous. Hey, you ever thought of making one for yourself? We could wear matching sweaters on date night.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s come up with the best idea in the world.

This time when you slap his chest you make sure to add a little more force so it hurts. 

“Gonna sleep in this. Gonna wear it till it falls off. Gonna make sweet, sweet love to you in this,” he says, eyebrows dancing higher and that’s the final straw. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, face burning hotter because only Eddie would think of saying something like that. “I swear to god if you plan on wearing that while we’re making out the only person you’re gonna be making love to is yourself.” You say putting air quotes around the last few words. 

His boisterous laughter is the last thing you hear before he’s enveloping you in his arms and the ugly sweater, mouth covering yours as he kisses you. “I really do like it,” he murmurs against your lips. 

You want to call him a liar because how could anyone love something that ugly? But before you can get a word in edgewise he’s kissing you again making you lose your train of thought.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #my writing

[solarmorrigan]

Little epilogue to the “Steve crochets Eddie a scarf” story (I promise I’m done now)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Ao3

“What are you working on?” El asks, leaning slightly into Eddie’s space to watch as he works.

Eddie pulls his latest stitch tight and tilts the fabric a bit so El can see the patch he’s securing. “I’m putting my new battle vest together,” he says. “Since someone bled all over the last one.”

“You knew I was bleeding when you gave it to me!” Steve snaps from the other end of the couch. “Anyway, we salvaged most of the patches, I don’t see why you have to keep complaining about it.”

“Because you’re so pretty when you’re irritated,” Eddie says, and he can hear Will give a snort of laughter from where he’s bent over a sketchpad on the floor.

Baby Byers is the latest addition to their little group of creatives; he doesn’t do anything with yarn or thread, but he does set up with colored pencils or, sometimes, a little set of watercolors and listens while Steve and Joyce gossip.

(His presence has stumped Steve’s continued efforts at naming the group, however.

“Five people probably makes up, like, an actual circle, but he doesn’t do… fabric-related things,” Steve ponders.

“Call it a craft pentagram,” Eddie suggests.

“No,” Steve vetoes immediately. “Besides, it’s six when Murray shows up.”

Right. That guy.

Eddie isn’t quite sure what he thinks of Murray Bauman just yet; he doesn’t appreciate the relentless roasting of his and Steve’s “honeymoon phase” (Bauman’s words, not his), but it is funny watching him threaten to teach Steve how to knit. In either case, Bauman and Joyce are good friends, so he’ll have to be included in the final group count.

Eddie and Steve decide to think on the name a little longer.)

“What is a battle vest?” El asks.

“It’s a metal thing. You put stuff like patches and pins onto a vest to show off the bands you like, the stuff you support, the stuff you don’t support – shit like that.” Eddie spreads the vest out a bit more to show El what he’s gotten done so far; he’s collected a few more patches since this spring, and he’s still considering what he wants to do with the pack panel, but he thinks it’s really coming together.

El runs a finger over the Motörhead patch. “And you sew it yourself?”

“That’s the only way to do it, kid.” Eddie grins. “My uncle Wayne taught me to sew when I came to stay with him. Said it was something everyone should know how to do.” Here, El nods wisely, and Eddie can see both Steve and Joyce grinning in his periphery. “I’m pretty sure I fidgeted and fussed through every single lesson, but he was right. I was glad I at least knew the basics once I started putting my first vest together.”

El studies his work a little longer before declaring, “It’s bitchin’,” and startling a bark of laughter out of Eddie.

“Thank you very much,” he says, pulling the vest back into his lap. “At least someone appreciates it.”

“Not taking the bait,” Steve drawls.

“Did you do these, too?” El draws Eddie’s attention back; she’s brushing a thumb over the bottom hem of the vest, where Eddie has sewn in a tiny swarm of bats in purple thread.

“Oh. Yeah, those are mine,” Eddie says. “That’s a little different from what I’m doing with the patches. Just some dumb embroidery.”

“I like it,” El says, looking up at him. “Would you show me how?”

Eddie blinks, taken aback by the sincerity in the request. “Uh – well, yeah, sure. I think I’ve got some extra stuff at home I can bring next time. I’m not, like, the best at it, but–”

“Thank you.” El cuts off Eddie’s uncertainty with a smile. “And I can show you how to crochet.”

Eddie can’t say he’s ever really wanted to learn how to crochet – or that he’d even really known what it was until a few months ago; he’s mostly been content to leave that particular craft to Steve.

He glances over to where Steve is sitting now, frowning over the blanket (afghan?) he’s finally decided to try his hand at; despite what Steve says about not being sure about what he’s doing, it’s coming out beautifully. Eddie knows it’s going to end up a prized possession on Buckley’s bed when it’s done.

From the chair beside Steve’s end of the couch, Joyce catches Eddie’s eye and gives him a sly smile he finds he can’t help but return.

And as Eddie thinks about it, it’s a gift all on its own, isn’t it? Getting to teach someone something you know, getting to learn something from them, too. And hell, you can never have too many hobbies.

“Yeah,” Eddie finally says, turning back to El. “Why not?”

#steddie #eddie & el #eddie munson #el hopper #steve harrington #stranger things #no tag list this time because no one explicitly asked and I don't know if those things are just supposed to carry over?? #but anyway I'm done bothering you guys with this fic now I swear #solar wrote #eddiesteve

[simplydannie]

Oooh! What if Veneer looks back on the good times he and Velvet had with Floyd like how Merida looked back on a childhood memory of her mom, remembers what Floyd means to him, frees him, and urges him to leave? With the parting being similar to how Poppy and Bridget parted.

Also, with the context of Floyd being V&V's father figure and V&V having known him since they were thirteen, I don't think it would make sense for Veneer to refer to Floyd as a little guy.

No definitely not. But I’d like think the poison of too much Troll essence alters your brain chemistry. Some reality and illusion tend to collide. Veneer would loose those memories of what Floyd really mean to him.

First of all, Brave is one of my all time favorite movies!! And omg yess!! That would be the sweetheart gesture, sweetest moment they could share! The bracelet in this story derives from the my story here :

Let Go

They did it.

Velvet and Veneer had won the Lifer Award. They were at the top, and that’s where Velvet, and their manager, intended for them to stay. But at what cost? Nearly the cost of the life of a little Troll who was once dear to them.

Floyd was on the brink of death…. There was still no sign of Brozone. Veneer surely thought that their performance at the Rage Doom would’ve killed him, but the little Troll had a lot of fight.

All this because Veneer got mad at him, because he grew afraid that Floyd would’ve really left him… so he trapped him. Now here they were, literally sucking the life out of him.

Veneer tossed and turned that night. He couldn’t sleep, as if memories were trying to come back to him. He knew at one point the Troll meant something to him. He’d have dream at night, dream about the small Troll caring for them. But those were just dreams weren’t they? Dreams about something he truly desired…. A family.

Veneer took a deep breath and finally closed his eyes, humming to himself a tune he heard a while ago. As he drifted, the dreams started coming back to him:

In this dream he awoke one morning to find a box slid under his door. He went over, knelt down and opened it. There was a note:

Veneer,

There’s so much I want to give you. So much I’d do for you and your sister, but the means right now won’t allow it. This is a little something from culture I want to pass down to you. I hope it fits. And I hope you love it’s.

Love, Floyd.

Opening the box was a bracelet, a bracelet woven together with bright colors of string and yarn. He couldn’t remember why he was feeling sad, but he felt that sadness go away. Joy came to Veneer as he put the bracelet on. He ran to his drawer and took a paper and pen….

In another dream, it was Veneer crying alone. He came home from school one day and went straight toward his room. He avoided anyone so not to worry them, but the one little person who noticed was Floyd. He silently entered Veneers room, tiptoeing to the closet where he could hear the young Rageouns cry, Veneer was 16 at the time.

“Ven?” Floyd called out.

“I’m fine! My tummy just hearts.” Veneer lied. Floyd didn’t take any chances. He pushed open the closet door. Floyd found Veneer curled up at the corner of his closet, his face hidden between his knees.

“Ven?” The small Troll crawled up on Veneers knees, placing a small hand on his head. “Ven, look at me.” Veneer slowly but surely lifted his head. “Ven! What, what happened?”

His right eye was bruised, lip split open.

“They… I don’t know they all make fun of me… why the other kids my age don’t like me. Am I really that strange? That different?” Veneer sobbed back into his knees.

“No! Don’t you dare think that! People who punish you for being who you are afraid of you. It’s because you’re different that your special.” Floyd declared.

“I just want a friend Floyd….just one friend.”

“It’s better to be surrounded by the few who love you than those who wouldn’t care. You’ll make that friend one day, Ven. I love you for who you and your sister both are.”…….

Veneers eyes bursted wide open.

He sat up on his bed. Throwing the sheets off of him, he marched to his drawer. Something came to his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory, or just a dream. Opening a small compartment, he stuck his hand inside, rummaging around, wondering if he’d find it….. There was nothing. He was about to give up hope until…Veneers hand fell upon something. Pulling it out he saw it…..

The bracelet from his dream…. Only it wasn’t a dream, those were all memories. Floyd really had meant something to them. And not just a mere friend… but family…. A father. Clenching his fists, Veneer took a deep breath and walked out his door.

Floyd laid inside the encased diamond. He wasn’t sure how he survived the Rage Dome show, but he was glad that his brothers weren’t there yet, it meant they were safe somewhere. He heard the door open in whatever room he was in, too weak to look up… Floyd slowly began to except that he breath he took would’ve been his last.

Floyd could feel the diamond be lifted… he opened his eyes to see who it was, but everything was a blur. He was weak, so, so weak. The small Troll could hear a voice, faint, and familiar, but he couldn’t make it out.

Floyd felt the diamond move and shake gently. He body slowly rolled out of the diamond, on to something warm.

“Floyd?” The voice was sad, it seemed like tears were in his eyes. “Floyd. Please move. Please do something.” The small manger to turn his head slightly towards the object in which the voice was coming from.

“…..Veneer….” His words soft, barely audible. Floyd closed his eyes, his breaths becoming slower.

“Please don’t did Floyd! I remember now. I remember everything. I don’t know why I couldn’t, but I do now. Please stay with me. I’m sorry Floyd! I didn’t mean to trap you in the diamond. I was scared of you leaving me. I didn’t want you to leave.” Veneer said through tears.

The Troll made no acknowledgements, no movement, he continued just lie there motionless, breaths becoming slower and slower.

“Floyd please.” He cried again, caressing the small Troll in his hand. “I’m sorry! I-I can’t loose another one…I can’t loose another dad.” He cried, tears slowly rolling down his face. “Velvet is sorry too, I know she is. She just has to remember just like me. And she will. Please….Please dad.”

Floyd slowly opened his eyes. He turned to look at Veneer, his eyes were closed, head resting against his arms as he still held Floyd. He suddenly saw the young 13 year old he met. The curious boy who saved him and brought him in….

“I’m sorry for almost leaving you guys.” Floyd managed to say, his color slowly return to him. Veneer lifted his head, his eyes filled with happiness as the small Troll slowly started to come back. Veneer nuzzled the Troll close to his face.

It felt like old times, they were just missing Velvet… but it occurred to Veneer that Floyd wasn’t safe. No matter if he and Velvet remembered, their manager would find a way to get her hands on the Troll and the rest of his family. Veneer stood up and walked over towards a vent. Taking off the cover, he peered inside… it seemed safe enough for Floyd, they had to lead somewhere.

Sensing a shift in behavior, Floyd gathered the strength to stand.

“Ven?”

“….You have to go….”

“What?” Floyd peered down the vent Veneer motioned too. “No! Not without you. Not without Velvet. We leave together! I learned my lesson. I let you fall into the hands of that evil woman who’s done nothing but abuse and groom you!”

“You have to go. Go find your brothers…. Your family.” Gently wrapping his hand around Floyd, Veneer held him over the vent. The Troll held a firm grasp on his hand, hugging his thumb.

“You guys are my family too! I’m done leaving family behind.” Floyd hugged Veneers thumb tightly, tears going down his face. Veneer smiled softly.

“You have to let go.”

“No!” He held on tighter.

“….Im sorry.” Veneer wrapped his other hand around Floyd gently, pulling his little embrace away. He held him over the vent and let go. Veneer covered the vent so Floyd couldn’t manage using his hair to climb back up. Tears rolled down his face as he heard Floyd call out his name as he went down…

But he was free… Veneer only had to deal with what consequences lay ahead.

#trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #trolls veneer #veneer #velvet trolls #velvet #fandom #velvet and veneer trolls #floyd #trolls floyd #trolls au #trolls #trolls fanfic #trolls fandom #fanfic writing #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #trolls 3 veneer #trolls 3 velvet #veneer trolls #au #oneshot #trolls velvet

[rayshippouuchiha]

diagonal knit blanket for my sis! original pattern wasn’t working out (too busy, didn’t play well with the colors) so had to start over. but i like this better anyway, it stripes prettier and is very easy to zone out with while watching youtube or tv. blankets are soothing to make, because they’re big enough to challenge me, but also useful, and depending on the pattern, can also hold my interest.

This is baby blanket #3. It’s being made with acrylic mini skeins that were a christmas gift. pattern is Cambrie by wool and stitch. I’ve got a light-dark-light-dark thing going, which is coming out nicely. don’t know for sure if i’ll use all the skeins since i’m nowhere near the length needed, but if nothing else i’ll go until i’m satisfied.

baby blankets 1&2! (ignore the terrible lighting) they were supposed to be for a coworker that was having twins, but then she left before i was done, and i couldn’t reach her at the number she gave me, then the other one i had didn’t work, and i never got a response, so they ended up going to a cousin of mine that recently had a baby. my aunt is gonna pass them along for me, so i’m just happy they’ll get used. these were done last year, i think i finished that brown and gray one in…November? or October. (side note, i am NEVER doing an 8-row pattern for a blanket again jfc it took FOREVER). brown and gray is garter rib, blue and white is eeny meenie minie mo, the aforementioned 8-row, which drove me nuts because i still think my stitch count was off somewhere, or there was an issue with the pattern. X_X both were done in cotton. still pleased with how they came out since they were my first ever baby blankets. :D

this wacky thing is also diagonal knit, but with chunky chenille yarn (also a christmas gift). why i decided to make it diagonal knit as well, i don’t know. it’s a side project that gets worked on whenever i’m in the mood to fiddle with it. will probably give it to my aunt as she does not have a blanket from me yet.

my stepdad’s blanket! also done in acrylic, it took 5 cakes of caron super bulky. pattern is called bamboo, even though you can’t really see it in the pic. this was finished literally 2 months ago, and i almost ran out of yarn, but had enough to finish the border. i won yarn chicken, juuuust barely.

my mom’s blanket! i finished that one last year too. I don’t remember if I showed this one or not. I did not make a finishing border because i wasn’t paying attention, so i had just enough yarn to bind off. i used the caron anniversary cake for it. frigging huge thing of yarn.  remember kids, always keep track of your rows! pattern is broken rib. and yes, when i finished both blankets, i literally left them on their chairs for my mom/stepdad to find in the morning.now, i haven’t forgotten about your blanket. in fact i recently got the needles and a couple skeins of yarn for it. did a test run of the pattern, and now i mostly just need to figure out how many stitches to cast on for proper width, and then how many more skeins i will need altogether. it took me forever to actually DECIDE what to use, because my initial yarn pick never seemed to have the right colors in stock, and my other choices just didn’t seem right. :/ but i’ll need to get 2 more skeins in the right colors, and go from there. i’ll be using lion brand hometown, which is also considered super bulky/chunky. once i have everything, i’ll start fiddling with it and share progress.

#submission #holy shit yeah #watching you grow as a fiber artist has been a pleasure and a delight

[moongothic]

Do you ever start a project, thinking it'd be a fun thing to make, only to realize halfway through you hate and have literally no use for it and then get stuck unsure what the fuck you should do with it

Yeah

This is my Bag of Regrets

Okay so around March of 2023 I made my first-ever crochet bag out of the leftover yarn I had from my Blanket of Darkness. I loved how that bag turned out, but even then I realized I could've done a better job had I lined the bag, which I should've done really early into the project.

So.

I ended up with a bunch of this super thin cotton yarn, in a few colors. We're not gonna talk about how I got the yarn, I just ended up with it. And I did not know what to do with it, because the pink and the dark maroon-y color just are not my colors, at all. I do not like them what-so-ever. And so like, I had to figure out something to do with the yarn, didn't wanna waste it. And for some god damn reason I thought I could practise making more crochet bags using this yarn.

Like in theory, this was a fine idea.

But I don't even like pink, what the fuck am I going do with this god damn thing now.

But I was a fucking idiot and did not think about that fact until I was like 80% done with it

Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to try doing a checkerboard pattern on the tiny crochet bag. This was a huge mistake. I don't know what the fuck it was about it, but I had the worst time of my life trying to make sure the squares were even, with the same amount of rows and that the corners met at the right spots- like sometimes I made the right amount of rows but the corners didn't meet at all and sometimes I did the wrong amount of rows but the corners did meet. It was a fucking nightmare to crochet. I had a horrible time. Making the front and back panels took me months and I had to restart it so many times just to get it right. It was bad, I hated it man

Also, by the way. I don't mind working with thin yarn at all, but because this was a thin COTTON yarn, I just. The yarn has no stretch, it is hard. Working with it made me feel like I was going to cut off my left finger as the yarn was rubbing against it as I was crocheting.

The bottom piece of the bag was done in that dark purple-maroon-y color with... I can't even remember what stitch I did, it was something Alt Knots has a video tutorial for on their YouTube though

But, I made the three crochet panels

Then I cut out the piece of fabric I would hand-sew the crochet pieces onto. I have a ton of this red-brown fabric that I have no idea wha to do with, and I figured it would work fine for this (since you're not supposed to see this fabric anyways) so I cut the pieces from it

Pinned the pieces down and then I just sewed the pieces onto the fabric. I decided to use sewing thread so it'd blend into the crochet better (being a fine thread and all), using white for the checker board pieces and a dark red/maroon-y color for the bottom piece

Forgot to take a photo of the bottom piece but it's fine, you get the idea

Then I cut out the lining fabric. I didn't really have any fabric that would actually match the checker board crochet at all, and I didn't want to buy anything so I chose to use this black fabric (with itty bitty roses) for lining

Cut the pieces and pinned them down facing each other

I think I originally wanted to do the sewing by hand for a cleaner look but I wasn't happy with it, so after I did my innitial hand-stitching I went over it with a sewing machine, getting as close to the crochet but without sewing over it. And after checking it was okay, I cut the excess fabric and did some clean up to help keep the fabric from fraying.

Folded the pieces inside out and they were looking decent!

Now yes, I did still have to hand-sew one side shut for each piece, but it wasn't a big deal, though sadly because I had to make sure the handsewing wasn't visible on the outside of the bag, this was going to be a visible flaw on the lining anyways

You can see what I mean on the top edge of the bigger piece (with the white thread)

In hindsight I probably could've sewn the edge shut with a mattress stitch or something instead of going through all the fabric, but alas, I was stupid and didn't not realize this at the time

Sidenote I took like 5 month break from this project after finishing the front and back piece but before I did the bottom piece. Because yeah, this was around when I realized I hated what I was making and that I had no idea what the fuck I was gonna do with it once it was done. And I just could not get myself to even look at it, for months. And it HAUNTED me, made me feel bad about not having completed it every dang day. But yeah, finally in March I got back to it after finishing my last crochet blanket. Because I wanted to start another project but I did not want to start anything before finishing this fucking thing so yeah.

(Oh yeah I also I grabbed some metal accessories from my mom's stash that I attached to the bottom piece, so the bag can have a widdle handle)

With the pieces all done, it was finally time to sew them together. And this I was going to do by hand sewing them with a mattress stitch. I started by just attaching the smaller piece to the bottom, making sure it was centered right, and carefully sewed it together, starting from the middle and making my way up the sides, one at a time.

I did very specifically do sewing on the red-brown fabric

And it was looking good, according to plan!

Did the bigger piece the same way, and then all I had to do...

...Was clean up, by mattress stitching the crochet pieces together. Chose to use white because I figured I'd rather have small amounts of white peeking through on the bottom piece than have the dark red/purple on the front pieces. Though thankfully the white yarn isn't even that noticable, it sinked into the stitches quite nicely

With that done, I did this one final little touch-up. On checker crochet pieces you could kind of see my starting row, as the row had quite large holes in it. And I wasn't a huge fan of how it looked, so I just took some of the white yarn and wove it into the loops to fill it out

One final thing I did but didn't bother documenting was the strap. I did considder crocheting it, and even started it, but I did not like the stitch I was trying to use for it, and at this point I was so fucking done with the project I couldn't be bothered. I had some white cotton ribbon with nothing to do with it, so I decided to just grab some of that to make a lil strap. It's... not great, it's just that the ribbon is quite thin so it FEELS really flimsy. But I had reached the "I don't give a fuck anymore" stage and so. Yeah whatever

My shitty little bag of regrets is done. Yay.

I probably could've done something to clean the edges of the bag better because you can see the red-brown fabric peeking through, but... Like I can't think of what I could do to fix that, and again, I'm at the point where I don't have the energy to even try anymore

It's done, and that's what matters

Probably throwing it in the trash because what else am I gonna do with it

(Final note; I did have left-over yarn from this, but I used that yarn to make tiny mesh fruit/grocery bags. Ones I will actually use! Yay)

#Moon posting #Yarncraft Diary #Crochet #Crochetblr #Yarnblr #Mandatory ''This started out as a DIY Blog first and foremost'' Disclaimer #Also yeah I finished this god forsaken thing months ago but did not have it in me to post about it #Do not let me start dubious projects ever again. This was a massive waste of time #Did not proof read this we die like men

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

okay no but im still not done thinking about fiber artist soap (part two of this)

(i crochet mainly so most of my knowledge is there, but if any knitters/weavers/etc want to chime in please do!)

the first time he ever saw anything to do with fibercraft, he was really little. maybe six or seven. he found his nan sitting at a spinning wheel, humming to herself, turning a mass of fluffy white into even, careful strands of soft yarn. curious as he was, he couldnt stop himself from coming closer and watching. asking questions. she just smiled, pulled him into her lap, and let him watch from there.

the first time he tried to make something wtih the finished product, it didnt quite come out how he expected. what was supposed to be a scarf looked anything but. it was wonky and misshapen, with dropped stitches and tension all over the place. but despite the awkward end result, he actually finished it! it took a few tries, a fair bit of frogging, and a couple of breaks where he had to step back and do something else, but he finished it! his sister lit up like a christmas tree when he gave it to her, and still has it tucked away somewhere.

he never really talked about his little hobby once he enlisted. its not that he was ashamed of it, but there wasnt a lot of down time during basic and what little unscheduled time was better spent elsewhere. he did have a stash of yarn and a few hooks and needles tucked under his bunk, and during nights when he couldnt sleep hed pull out a skein or two and work until either his mind stopped racing or the sun broke over the horizon, whichever came first.

the first person to really notice his little hobby was gaz. they spent a lot of time together on and off duty, its only natural that hed notice. after a bit of good natured ribbing, gaz is more than a little impressed at the speed he can work up a piece. he even asked for a lesson or two, with varying results.

price is next, after soap gets laid out during a mission. hes sitting next to the shitty medical cot when gaz brings him a lumpy bag and chucks it at soaps head. hes not expected him to pull out a set of knitting needles and a few balls of yarn, or for soap to start chattering away with gaz as his hands work quickly.

ghost notices when he sees soap working on a different project almost every day. one day its a pair of colorful socks, the next a chunky blanket, the next the beginnings of a sweater sleeve. he works with an intensity that he usually reserves for a particularly complicated explosive, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips. ghost rallies the courage to ask when he sees price wearing a sweater he could have sworn soap had been working on last week.

his fingers are awkward and fumble with the hook, yarn getting knotted and tangled as he pulls the last row of loops apart with a frustrated huff. but soap is there to gently guide his hands in place, telling him how to hold the yarn with the right tension, how to start a new row without dropping stitches, all the things that he himself was taught by his ever patient nan.

fiber artist soap who shows his love through his work, and who works his love in every stitch <3

#john soap mactavish #soapghost #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #cod modern warfare #ghoap #cod mwii #soap modern warfare #cod headcanons #fiber artist soap #i love this headcanon you cannot take it away from me lol #wayward seeds

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by a buncha folks for fuck it Friday! Thanks @devirnis @butchdiaz @anxieteandbiscuits @alyxmastershipper @rewritetheending! I’ll post scraps form a few things…

Their first actual interaction in nurse Eddie au

In bed eight there are blue eyes and a birthmark and Eddie says “Buck,” out loud, because he’s an idiot.

“Do I… know you?” Buckley (Eddie seeks safety in the formality of a last name) tilts his head a little, eyes searching Eddie’s face for familiarity.

Saying something like You’re usually unconscious when we meet would be creepy, probably. Sometimes I feel like you're my dead wife doesn't even make sense, Eddie can't even explain it to himself. Shannon died and you didn't sounds too accusatory, and he's not sure if he wants to mean it that way or not. You saved my son's life except Eddie still isn't thinking about that, is still actively trying to forget. So Eddie says “I’ve seen you in here before,” like that explains a nickname he has no right to know.

Some sap from take you in and make you mine chapter two

Bed head, all sticking over everywhere. Buck will touch his hair, later, Eddie will let him touch his hair. Loose gray LAFD shirt, possibly Buck’s, one of the ones without a name printed over it. Buck spends a few minutes fascinated by the way the fabric folds around warm skin that maybe Eddie will let him touch later, too. Boxers, sweatpants shed for being too warm. Buck should check for fever, maybe, make sure he’s recovering okay, but his arm and hand and ankle don’t feel overly hot. He doesn’t have any blanket on him, either, it mostly migrated onto Buck in the night, and then mostly left him behind as well to rest half on the floor. He’s breathing steady, back rising and falling slowly with it. Buck glances at the bedside table. It’s early, not even 6 yet, though the room is already halfway sunny here at the height of summer. There’s one granola bar wrapper and a mostly drained water bottle from when he’d woken up starving and parched in the middle of the night, but the others remain untouched. At least that means Eddie slept through the night, probably. Rest is good, important for recovery. There’s a little twitch of pressure on his hand and Buck turns back over to watch Eddie come awake.

He does it in stages. First he holds Buck’s hand tighter (Buck hides his face in the pillow for a moment, burying his smile), then makes a grunt so annoyed and dad-like that Buck has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Then his head starts to move, looking around at the room before finally dragging his face across the pillow to blink at Buck. He looks tired, and ruffled, and beautiful.

And here’s Shannon and Eddie coming out to each other from quilt shop au

Christopher wanders towards the yarn shelves and Shannon turns to him, scratching a nail along the outer seam of her jeans the way she always has when she’s nervous. “I know I usually have him Saturdays but I was wondering if you’d be willing to- watch him, or swap days, or- or I could drop him off in the afternoon, maybe?”

“Uh-“ Buck is coming in on Saturday, Eddie was going to show him how the long arm works so he doesn’t have to keep rolling up whatever secretive larger project he’s been working on to fit in his little domestic machine. But Shannon is not generally a worried person, these days, and Eddie doesn’t like the way she can’t quite make eye contact. “He’ll have to hang out here for a while, but yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“I…” She glances at him, glances away again. Eddie keeps folding the pile of fabric on the cutting table, keeping his movements steady and calm, and she watches the slide of the colors and patterns for a minute before she takes a deep breath. “I have a date.”

Eddie makes a sound something like Oh, but without really forming the word. It’s been awhile. Shannon had tried dating much quicker and much more frequently than Eddie had after they’d split. Jealousy only lasted so long- Shannon is still one of the loves of his life, even if that love isn’t what he thought it was when he was 18 and she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Eddie had sunk into the role of supportive best friend with a kind of relief he thinks nobody looked at too closely, and he’d been the shoulder she cried on when things didn’t work out, and the last few times things hadn’t worked out so spectacularly that as far as he’s known she’d been single for going on a year. “Who’s the new guy?”

Shannon makes determined eye contact, and her voice shakes only a little. “New girl, actually.”

Eddie absolutely cannot help the startled laugh that knocks out of him. It’s not funny, fuck it’s not funny, and her face is pinching up in embarrassed anger that he feels terrible about, but- it’s just kind of funny, is all.

“Jesus- Fuck you, Eddie-“

“No! No, no,” he catches her hand and waist as she spins away, like how they used to dance, like how they still dance, sometimes, when they find a bar with a hoedown night or when they’re lonely in this city that can feel so far away from where they grew up. “Shannon, no, it’s not-“ He remembers the last time she’d had her heart broken, how he’d held her on his abuela’s couch as she’d asked What’s wrong with me? and Why do I never feel right? and he hadn’t had any answers for her because they were questions he tried not to ask about himself. He laughs again, helplessly, and she looks more confused than angry and Eddie wants to spin her around and around because finally, maybe they both finally- “There’s a boy,” he says, and her eyes get wider. “And he’s tall, and he’s got blue eyes, and- and I love you so much but, baby, I don’t think we were ever going to work out.”

And then she laughs too, throwing her head back with it like Christopher does. “You’re- you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m really not,” he says, face aching with the smile splitting it in half.

@shortsighted-owl @bigfootsmom @rogerzsteven @kitkatpancakestack @burins @ anyone else who has stuff to share!

#fuck it friday #tag games #er nurse eddie au #quilt shop au

[ganseysglasses]

More TRC Christmas headcanons? Absolutely.

Gansey is the type of guy to get you an experience. He’ll buy concert tickets, reservations to go spelunking, planned museum days, things like that. However, much like his physical gifts they are things he tends to like more than everyone else and he has no clue of that fact. Because everyone loves Gansey to death they’re excited to go anyways, and it’s always a blast, because he’ll find out so much useless trivia about whatever you’re doing. Art museum? Gansey just told you the artist of the painting you’re looking at was four times divorced and his third wife was a lion tamer.

I feel like Adam can draw really well, and he’ll use that + cabeswater to create the most perfect psychic drawing rendition of whatever you think is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He draws a lot of trees for Blue, complete with vibrant leaves that almost seem to move if you squint enough… Gansey gets all swooping landscapes of Henrietta. The whole town memorialized on paper had almost brought Gansey to tears. (It immediately went to his notebook, the highest honor.) One year, he ended up having to do a self portrait for Ronan, but felt slightly awkward about it and made Chainsaw instead. Adam later gifted the self portrait after they had gotten together. Noah always got some sort of animal, and even after Noah left, Adam still drew whatever animal he thought Noah might have loved unconditionally. He keeps those tucked away though, and the others haven’t found them. They’re only for Noah, Adam would say.

Ronan is a creature of habit, he dreams things. In his eyes, that would be a waste of his talents to not just dream the gifts. He still puts a lot of thought into the gifts though. Hours are spent trying to pull out the perfect card stock paper Gansey is obsessed with. (It’s never quite the right shade of beige.) Blue’s crochet hook that could change sizes did change sizes, but as Ronan learned, the sizes didn’t fit any actual yarn. So he tries again, never admitting to having learned to crochet for that gift. The cycle repeated for all of them, hours spent for Ronan to not wrap it and shrug like he found it on the floor of Nino’s. But they know he cares.

Blue knows her strengths lay in crafting, and so that’s what she does. One year, she gifts them all the most vibrant hand-knitted cardigans and insists they wear them at least once. Gansey thinks it’s just lovely. His is a bright salmon color that clashes with everything he owns and he thinks it’s perfect. Ronan claims to have fed it to Chainsaw, but Blue once caught him using the special detergent he dreamed as to not ruin it. Ronan will never, ever, admit it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing he owns. Adam’s is actually a sensible color, a deep blue, not as fluorescent as the ones made for Gansey, Ronan, and Henry. Blue knows this way Adam will actually use it, and Adam knows Blue knows that. There’s eye contact, and subtle understanding, and that’s the end of that.

Henry is still adjusting to the odd way they do Christmas, and plays it safe with standard gifts at first. Once he figures out the routine, he gets everyone personalized playlists on CDs, annotated fiction books, matching jewelry, things like that. Just something to show that he’s there, and he knows them, and he’s so glad they know him. He also tends to slip in gag gifts, but nothing too crazy.

They leave a stocking up for Noah in Monmouth. Nobody talks about it, it’s just there, up on the mantle with the rest of them. When it’s time to take down decorations, the stocking usually stays up a little longer.

Happy holidays!

#the raven cycle #gansey #ronan lynch #adam parrish #blue sargent #i love gansey #noah czerny #the raven boys #richard gansey iii #christmas #christmas headcanons #headcanons #trc headcanon #guys i miss noah

[gamebunny-advance]

1010 Malt Shop - Green Plushie

It's done. It's finally done. 1 week of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly blood), and he's done.

But I don't have a good enough camera nor photography skills to really capture his true charm ;w;

(Boring self reflection + more pics under the cut)

Anyway, this is the project I've been working on lately. No particular thing really prompted this. Like most things I do, it was started on a whim and finished with will power. I don't really have much experience with plush making or sewing, so despite his obvious faults, I still think he turned out pretty nicely for an amateur.

As per usual, I didn't have enough foresight to document the process, but I can nonetheless talk about the experience and point out some details of it.

Firstly, he's a pretty large lad. Here he is compared to the official DJSS plush and one of the test prints I did of "Melon Float."

Counting his straw, he's about 16 inches tall. I wasn't counting on him being so big, so I don't really know what I'm gonna do with him now...

I say this took a week, but I probably could have quartered that time if I had a working sewing machine, but since I didn't, the majority of the time was spent just sewing the thing together. (Btw, pattern over here.) The only fabric details that weren't hand-sewn are the circle/stripe details on his pants and shoes, and the bow/buttons on his shirt, which were all glued on.

The base pattern didn't come with any clothes, so I just adapted the body patterns into clothes. Structurally, he's basically wearing a second skin~ I did think about making the gloves for the sake of accuracy, but at that point, the only skin he'd be showing is his face, and I wanted to keep some soft parts out since his clothes are so stiff. They're so stiff, they can stand on their own and be stacked on top of each other without falling over.

(The plush has a harder time standing than his clothes do...)

Speaking of the clothes, let me say right now that it bothers me more than anyone else that the paint details don't color-match his pants. I was so high on the euphoria of starting this project that when I was out getting supplies, I saw some glow-in-the-dark paint and thought it'd be a great idea since he's a robot and all. The color on the bottle looked close enough at the time, and the original plan was that only the face would be painted with the other details being felt, but on top of me forgetting that effects paint takes a long time to build up layers, the green also dried differently than I thought it would, so it threw everything off, but I didn't have the patience to suck it up and repaint everything with a better color match. I did try to add a light gradient with my pastels like in the original art work, but it turned out so light that it's barely perceivable and totally not worth the clamminess I get when I touch chalk.

I think the most time-consuming part was his hair. While sewing the body together took 2 days, the clothes 2 days, and painting 1 day, the hair took about 3 as I had to figure out essentially how to do it myself on the fly. The first day was mostly trial and error. I did find a couple of online tutorials about how to get this loopy yarn hair, but the ones that I found both required tools that I didn't have. Eventually, I figured out a way to make it work, but I feel like it was less than efficient:

Basically, his hair is made with chunks of yarn that are tied together, and each chunk is individually sewn into place. I didn't count, but I think there are 13-14 hair chunks total to give him a full head. I do like how I made his bangs uneven to mimick how I draw his hair, but I couldn't quite pull off having his distinct hair-part and I couldn't figure out how to give the illusion of half his hair being straight without it looking weird. (I did try cutting the loops to let the strands be straight, but I didn't like the look of it, so I kept them all loopy).

This is a weird thing to say out of context, but I'm especially proud of the back of his head. Originally I was just going to paint on his undercut (which I'm glad I didn't because this paint REALLY hardens the cotton), so I got the bright idea to sew on individual strands of yarn for it. I think the effect is great, but I would not wish it upon my worst enemy, because to get the effect, I had to sew on each. strand. individually. The day I made the face poll, and said that was going to be a break day? I wound up doing this instead, and it took just as long to sew in those 20+ strands of yarn as it did the rest of his hair.

To segway into that poll, as you can see, I went with option 2 with some slight edits. Just the white/green eyes looked a little plain to me, so I added my usual dark pupil and added a green-star glitter to the center. I'm the one that has to live with this thing for the foreseeable future, so I made some executive decisions. Unfortunately, there were a few errors while painting, which you can clearly see in the above pictures OTL. I did try to seal off my painting areas with tape, but it still bled and stained in a few places. I don't really know if it's possible to clean the stains without ruing the rest of the face, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them.

There are a few extra details that I guess are worth pointing out: he's actually wired. I put in some armature wire so he'd be able to move his limbs despite the stiff felt but... I didn't secure them that well, and the wire for his arms got displaced, so I currently can't bend them ;3;. I'd have to open him up again to replace it, and I REALLY don't want to undress him again to get to his back. The worst thing about this plush is that his clothes are so stiff that he's actually very hard to dress.

The wire in his legs is mostly still in place, so he can at least (kinda) sit.

I think the last thing worth talking about is the ice cream accessory. It was really simple to make (it's just air dry clay over foil + extra pieces), but it's cute, so I wanted to point it out~

It's a hair clip, so it can be taken on and off. Theoretically, it could be worn by a person, but it's a little heavy to be wearing it all day~ The camera/lighting really blew out the colors, but I think it turned out to be a nice creamy french vanilla color like I really wanted~

Other details like the glitter on his eyes/cheeks can't really be captured on my shitty ipod camera, but rest assured that he is pleasantly sparkling~

I think my biggest takeaway from this project has been materials: I thought that using felt would be a great alternative to having to buy an entire yard of fabric for a one time project, but besides the paint, it was the hardest material to work with. If I have to pick and choose, next time I think the body will be felt, and the clothes will be cotton, or maybe I'll actually invest in some fleece, so it can be soft all the way~ Since the clothes are removable, I could theoretically make him his default sailor suit and just replace the straw with his proper hair loop to convert this into a "canon" design plush, but we'll see what the future holds. I did get the felt colors to make my *other* babygirl, but given this experience, I may hold off on making him until a much later date.

#gbunny makes #plush #nsr #no straight roads #green 1010 #1010 #1010 malt shop #short story time: so I think i've said this before #but i originally started the malt shop series because i just wanted to make a pink white!1010 and it just evolved from there #and i wanted a pink version of him because in the off chance that i ever decided to 'make' something of him #i wanted it to fit in with the rest of my things #which are mostly pink #well the day finally came when i wanted to make something #that said #i made green because 1: i thought the contrast would actually work better for my pink things #since green and pink a complimentary colors #and 2: all of green's hair accessories would give me more things to make #and thus more skills to use/improve on #since it's my first 'original' plush i wanted to practice as many techniques as possible so the next one can be even better! #this experience has taught me that i DEF need to sew in his head accessories BEFORE the hair #and if i'm going to add an undercut using this method #I also need to do that before the hair #i'm telling you. sewing the base was the easiest part #it's all the hair that was the biggest hurdle for me