Ok but adam in like five layers of baggy shirts and an oversize hoodie with the sleeves pulled over his hands to keep warm, because it’s cold in his room at at agnes, and rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy baby, and ronan’s just so gone that screaming inside doesn’t even help so he just bursts out “for fuck’s sake parrish” and adam looks up at him wide eyed and confused and adorable like “what? I didn’t even do anything ?” And ronan can’t physically take this level of cute so he just gets up and adam hears him mumbling things like “fucking cute” and “trying to fucking kill me” as he escapes to hide in bathroom to get a grip and adam can’t help the small smile on his face
*You will need a T Shirt big enough to wrap around your leg*
-split your shirt up the sides
( if you would like “dance leggings” leave a sleave on each side, the neck edge can be your heal hole and you can use the sleave for your foot cover)
–i also cut off the sleaves, just plain leggings for me today thanx
— place leg over shirt half, NICE SIDE IN, the neck edge will be my bottum foot edge….. and the shirts bottum hem is now my thigh hem
—–pin up your leg then slide off CAREFULLY
——-use the line of pins as a rough guide to sew, as you can see I added a “heal scoup” while sewing to the area I knew would be my heal once I turned the seam to the back
*Sew with a zig zag stitch to maintain stretchy quality of the cotton jersey……..don’t have a machine with a zig zag stitch? Meen either. Just pull the material taught while sewing and allow it to gather a bit after you pass.*
These are 100% cotton and as such will slouch and get floppy but you can just wash and dry them to shrink them up
Pull elastic through the top
Wear them over nylons or leggings to keep them up
Clip them to a garder belt
My local indie had The Raven Cycle on Saturday, so my partner and I spent the weekend reading it aloud together.
There’s something so wonderful and terrible about a favorite series coming to an end. I remember when I got an advanced copy of The Raven Boys at my first Book Expo, and since then I’ve read it as soon as I could get my eyes on it. I’ve re-listened to the audiobooks several times. I’ve made embroidery inspired by it. I have prints from Maggie Stiefvater hanging above my mantle. Mister BS and I have Raven Cycle t-shirts. All my books are signed. I’ve even read fanfiction.
It’s been a wonderful part of my reading life these last several years, and I’m immensely satisfied by the ending of the series, yet somehow still feel hollow after all the anticipation evaporated.
To favorite series, and the books that make us want to live in their worlds, to the characters that feel like real people, and to the authors who let us into their imaginations.
I think I’m gonna start my own up-cycled t shirt and denim/leather jacket business! I’ll paint on feminist slogans, band names, motifs, and any other cute/on trend fashion embellishments. who would be interested? a little like my AM jacket, i’ll do led zeppelin jackets, bowie jackets, stones jackets, metallica jackets, hole jackets, beatles, bikini kill, etc. but also maybe some with ribbon banners that say like “mermaids against misogyny” or “femme fatale” or “cutie killer”, etc, like who’d be interested? they’d all be hand-painted, but I can paint very accurately so that shouldn’t be an issue. would you guys be interested if i started selling these properly, so you don’t just have to win them in giveaways?
Characters: Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish Ship: Pynch - ish Word Count: 2,939 Rating: T (just a bit of foul language and drug use) Summary: Just some random Pynch that was going to be smut, but went a totally different direction. What is my life? Dedications:roninlynch because you’re my parabatai and the Ronan to my Gansey forever and fuckingkavinsky because you requested some Pynch. Hope it doesn’t disappoint. <3
Aw, man. This looks terrible.
Adam winced as his finger gently prodded the red-and-purple bruise that now decorated his left side. Macabre splashes of color over his ribs indicated the location of impact, but even the deep shades of the discolored skin didn’t accurately reflect the amount of pain he felt with each intake of air. No, his ribs weren’t broken, but they were most certainly fractured. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that. Not with the number of injuries he’d correctly self-diagnosed in the past. Besides, doctors meant explanations. Explanations meant police. Police meant even worse injuries. It was a vicious, stupid cycle.