decorative knots


I moved into a new apartment last weekend, and it doesn’t quite feel like home yet. It’s just  this big, empty, blank place that I’m still growing accustomed to. I felt inspired to make a wall decoration that I could also imbue with magic for protection, comfort, positivity, and new beginnings. Knot magic felt like the way to go, and this macrame wall hanging was the result. 

As I knotted the first row, I chanted: “My home protects me.”

As I knotted the second row, I chanted: “I am comfortable here.”

As I knotted the third row, I chanted: “My home is filled with positivity.”

As I knotted the fourth row, I chanted: “This is my new beginning.”

For the final row, I chanted: “This home will be my safe haven.” 

It’s a fairly simple design, so it only took about 45 minutes and cost less than $5 in materials. I placed the finished product above my bed, and had the best night of sleep since I moved in! What do you think?

anonymous asked:

imagine: lance's best friend (reader) approaches him one day, asks "Hey, remember the time you said if somebody did that thing you would marry them on the spot? well, I did it. So if you were serious, I'd be more than happy to be yours."


1067 words

I remember the origin of the moment with perfect clarity: we were back at home, both 15 years old, sitting by a lake near my home. We were sweaty after running the five miles around the body of water, and as we were exhausted, decided to sit and watch people in their boats. Lance got talking about a cheesy romance movie he was forced to watch with his mother and sisters. He talked about how the female lead did something to the male lead to show him that he was good enough for her. He laughed, saying, “If someone did that for me, I’d marry them on the spot!”

I laughed with him, my face burning. At the time, I’d had a huge crush on Lance. He was cute and friendly to everyone, with more confidence in his pinkie than I had in my entire body. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but I admired him in a lot of ways.

“What about you, Y/N? Is there anything someone could do that would make you marry them on the spot?” Lance was looking at me, his cheeks rosy (but that was probably from running).

I shook my head and looked back over the lake. “No. There’s not.” To be honest, I thought the idea was a little ridiculous. One good act doesn’t mean a person is right for you. “Well… maybe buying me books?”

Lance laughed loudly and leaned back on his hands. “You nerd,” he chuckled.

After a few months, my crush on him went away. I decided that I liked him because he was so friendly with everyone he met, so when I thought he was flirting with me, he was just being nice. He did that with a lot of people.

We never brought up the idea of marriage again, after that.

Several years later, it turned out that Lance had had a huge crush on me for years. He asked me out a week after we got to the garrison. I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical at first. After seeing how he was with a lot of girls, I didn’t really believe him when he said he liked me. On the date, he shamelessly flirted with me and only me. By our third date, I was in love. He kissed me after dropping me off at my room, said goodnight, and left me standing, a little dazed and with a single hand on the doorknob, at my door.

When we went to space and our friends became Voltron, I was left feeling useless. I wasn’t part of Voltron. I didn’t contribute at all.

Lance made it all better. He told me that Pidge had, on several occasions, called me her sibling; Keith said I was a good person to rant to and spar with; Hunk said it was fun to have me in the kitchen while he made food for us all, and even purposely set chunks of food for me to “steal”; Shiro had once commented that I was like the glue that held the team together; and finally, Lance told me that he loved me, and that he felt a little less homesick when he saw me. He made me cry. I was glad I was valued.

Then, he started feeling the same way. He felt like he didn’t belong with everyone on the team because he was just a “goofball.” There were multiple occasions where he came to my room at night on the verge of tears because he couldn’t handle his dark thoughts on his own. We squeezed together on my bed and I held his hand.

It was then that I remembered what he’d said about marrying someone on the spot. I was more interested in making him feel better than the marriage part. So, I got working.

I was to write an essay filled with positive things about him. After making a list of questions of how Lance has affected every one of us, I interviewed the members of Voltron and wrote an essay that would have made my English teachers cry and give me extra credit.

As I wrote it, I came to realize that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this boy. I loved him more than anything, and if we were to be stuck in space for the rest of our lives, I would gladly do it with him.

Before I gave him the essay, I stood nervously in front of his bedroom door. My fist was raised, ready to knock: all I had to do was move it forward. Just an ince…

“Hey, Y/N!” Lance’s voice said cheerfully from behind me. “What are you doing out here?”

I spun around and hid the essay behind my back. “N-nothing. I just wanted to see what you were up to?” I cringed mentally. That was the lamest excuse I’d ever come up with.

“Really,” he said flatly.


“What’s that behind your back?”

My fingers curled tighter around the papers, crinkling them more than they already had been. “N-nothing, just a few pieces of paper!”

“And why do you have paper?”

“Ugh, okay. You got me. Remember the time you said if somebody did that thing you would marry them on the spot? Well, I did it. So if you were serious, I’d be more than happy to be yours.“

I thruster the essay into his hands and walked away. My face burned with embarrassment. He was going to break up with me for sure.

“H-hey, Y/N!” Lance called. “Wait up?”

I turned. He was sprinting to me, a grin on his face. He had something between his index finger and thumb. “I was planning on asking a similar question today,” he said. “I was looking for a sign to ask you. Guess I got one!”

“Wait, so are you saying yes?” I asked, my legs turning to jell-o.

“Uh, yeah!” He held up his hand and showed me the object he was holding. It was a simple ring, decorated with a small knot on top. “I asked Coran to make it for me… so if you mean it, I’ll marry you on the spot. I’m sure Allura can marry us.”

“O-okay,” I stuttered, allowing Lance to take my hand and slip the ring onto my middle finger.

I never expected for my engagement to start like this!

Finally got to finish this huge epic Celtic inspired dragon on a leg today. See more pics at

Lines healed, shading fresh - All handpoked without a machine by yours truly :) Would love to dedicate more time to working on larger projects, email or DM to book a large (or small) piece with me

The dragon is depicted holding Thor’s Hammer decorated with a Trinity Knot, the dragons body swirls around the Ægishjálmur stave, and the tail of the dragon circles Valknut Triangles. The dragons’ body is made up of a layered Celtic braid.

The Milton Brooch, Anglo-Saxon, 7th Century AD

The Milton Jewel is one of the finest examples of Anglo-Saxon brooches of the period, with a sophisticated design carried out in a combination of materials.The use of cloisons inlaid with garnet, filigree knot work decoration on gold sheet and shell bosses are typical of this type. The brooch was found in 1832 in a cemetery at Milton, west of Dorchester-on-Thames. There is another similar brooch in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, which was found nearby.

Of Knights and Bandits (And Maybe Ninjas)

In response to all the sad Sai and Jump have put us through this past like WEEK, I actually managed to do fluffy stuff (which is also the name of a cotton candy brand. Be warned, this may be just as sweet!). So, lesson here: Break my heart enough, I’ll be filled with so much joy I’ll write all da happy.

So, @sai-shou and @the-final-jump this is for you guys! Thanks for entertaining the sadist in me 8D

P.S. Uh, lots of creative liberty with this one. Sorry?!

Rating: K

Summary: [Post-TLG, Canon Divergent (as of right now *hopeful winks*),Imagined Happy End Route] Amelia had thought by now she’d faced just about everything; but she was about to discover she hadn’t taken on her greatest challenge yet: Babysitting.

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Handmade indoor/outdoor macrame plant hanger made of braided cotton clothesline and brass ring accents; Great for a sunlit patio or a bright kitchen breakfast nook! Length is 29″ top to bottom, and best fits pots or bowls 5″-8″ in diameter.




Masamune requests the future Lady Katakura to assist him in preparing an important banquet. Kojuro feels conflicted about it.

She was so near, yet so far.

He had her within his eyesight, her eyes were alight and lips curved into a smile. A smile that he longed to kiss. Yet, the rest of her were obscured by throngs of other people. Rather important people. Rather important people who happened to want to talk to him, to greet, to express their appreciation of the enchanting piece of music he had just played for them.

It was impossible to take a step towards her without someone stopping him to say something. His feet were tapping the ground, impatient. Yet, his smile never faltered, his eyes never strayed from those who engaged him in a conversation. One or two were satisfied with a polite smile and a reverential nod. But most demanded a dialogue of sorts. And he had been doing this for the Date clan for too long and he was far too good at it to be able to rudely brush them off.  

But discreetly, through the corner of his eyes, he was watching her. She waited there, on the spot where she had watched him perform. She watched him, smiling, while now and then people stopped to talk to her.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly and he thought he could curb his impatience for a little while more. Then came his liege lord. Not to his side. But to her side. To whisper something in her ear. Something that made her smile and nod.

“So, what do you think of it, Kojuro-dono?”

For the first time in a long while, he found himself losing track of the conversation he was having with one of these rather important people.

He opened his mouth uselessly. He couldn’t remember what it was they were talking about. Much less care to form an opinion. Worse, he searched his mind for one of his vague diplomatic responses – he’ll have to confirm it to Masamune-sama, it remains to be seen, time will tell – but he found none – he had no headspace for those. His head was filled with the ringing urgency to go there, to her side.  

Then he felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulder.

“Now, now, dear Uncle, we mustn’t be careless in this matter,” said a cheerful voice he knew all too well. “We will discuss with Masamune, first, of course. You have my word that we’ll make it our priority. Right, Kojuro?”

The hand on his shoulder gave a squeeze.

“Yes, of course,” he heard himself say, and felt his own lips curve into a smile. Yet, yet, his thoughts were there.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, Uncle. We’ll actually go over there and relay what you just said to our dear Masamune,” Shigezane said. His arm over Kojuro’s shoulders gave him a light shove, steering him in another direction.

“You looked utterly lost in there, Old Man,” he grinned. “Good thing that uncle of ours is too ancient to notice. You owe me one, you know that, right?”

For a split second he thought to deny that but then changed his mind. But before he could thank him properly, another weight slammed into him just below his knees.


His confusion turned into a smile. He heard Shigezane chuckle.

“You’re as popular as ever,” he said to him under his breath.


“Yes, Daitoshimaru-botchan, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“I have missed you!” said the four-year-old, looking up from where he was hugging his knees.

“And I you,” he said, gently untangling the boy’s arms from his hakama, and lowering himself to his knees.

Daitoshimaru took the silent invitation and climbed on to Kojuro’s open arms. Feigning a grunt, he lifted him off the ground and onto his shoulder then stood up.

The boy squealed, delighted to be taken to such height.

“You’ve gotten so big and heavy now!” Kojuro said, adding another grunt.

“Hear that, Toshi? Keep that up and you’ll break this old man’s back,” Shigezane snickered.

“I ate a lot!” the boy said proudly.

“Did you?”

“Yes! Neechan’s food is taaaaastyyyyyy…!”



“Yep, she’s neechan now to him, Kojuro. They’re inseparable now,” Shigezane said. “You should be worried, Toshi here is a formidable rival for her affection.”

“Neechaaaaaan…!” Daitoshimaru cried to the crowd. His clear voice pierced through the low buzz of the floating conversations happening around them.

Then the crowd parted just enough to reveal her.

He should use Daitoshimaru to find her all the time. The boy could get away with actually doing what he had wanted to do since he arrived at Yonezawa – ignore everyone and bellow her name out, calling her to his side and keep her there.

She was beaming. He was sure his own face mimicked hers, too.

God, she was beautiful.

Her hair, still short from her time as that scum Satake Yoshishige’s hostage, were adorned with a silk scarf tied into a ribbon at the nape of her neck. A single, blooming peony in the colour of the softest pink decorated the knot. It should be a crime to display her neck like that…

Then as she approached, the flutter of anticipation in his chest grow into beating wings of anxiety.

The furisode she was wearing, he didn’t recognise it. He had never seen it on her before.

It fitted her beautifully. It was exquisitely painted and embroidered. It was a garden in full bloom at the hem and a bright sky at the collar and the sleeves. And perching on the flowering branches and flying about in the bright blue were sparrows.

Date’s sparrows.

They were styled in the same manner with the pair of Date crests that were embroidered on either side of her collars. Kojuro knew without seeing, that on the back of the furisode would be three more exquisitely embroidered crests. He knew because he had seen it before.

He didn’t recognise the furisode. But he recognised the fabric it had been.

It had been a yuzen fabric gifted by Oda Nobunaga himself. A fabric whose delicate colours and motifs flaunted its superb craftsmanship. A fabric so exquisite Masamune had no idea what to do with that it had been kept in the treasury for some time.

And now it’s here, tailored to a perfection for a woman. His woman.    

Dun Dun Dun!!!

D A D D Y is J E A L O U S

Stay tuned for the next bite-size chapter(s)!

There will be smut!

Hope you enjoyed this!As usual, comments, likes, reblogs or any kind of feedback is super super appreciated! Thanks for reading!

For my other SLBP writings, check my SLBP Masterpost!

No better love Part 3

Originally posted by sebjpeg

No better love


Summary: They always say Christmas is the time for miracles.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: cussing, blood, fighting, angst,

Word count: Part 1 = 2,118 Part 2 = 1,968 (with lyrics) Part 3 = 1,818

Rating: PG-13

Note: sequel to “Ruin” takes place about three months later.

Forever tags: want on or off shot me a message.




Part 3

December 24 New York three am on Christmas Eve


Watching over him for hours before your eyes start to get heavy and you rest your head over his arm using it for a pillow. Dreams, nightmares plague your mind, of Bucky dying either in your arms or far away. You’d jerk in your sleep waking to check on him before falling again into the same fit full dreams.

Strong hands gently shake you awake, deep yawn leaving your lips as you look from Bucky, who’s still motionless, up to Steve’s bright blue eyes. “What’s wrong?” voice rough from sleep.

“Nothing doll,” sad smile graces his pink lips. “Thought you might like to freshen up a bit, grab a bite.”

“What time is it,” giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze before pulling free to stretch your back and run your hands through your hair.

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momijizukamori  asked:

Are there any types of obi-knots/obi that would be appropriate for both yukata and relatively informal kimono?


The two most common are the bunko and clam’s mouth or clamshell.

Bunko for yukata or kimono are tied with a hanhaba obi. Here are yukata bunko:

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Bunko for kimono–the first one is a furisode and the second is a casual coordination:

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How to tie bunko:

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Of course there are MANY variations on the Bunko which can be as simple as fanning out the edges or making some ends longer or shorter than the other layers.

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Clam’s Mouth Obi or Clamshell 貝の口

For yukata:

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This obi knot is interesting in that it is one of the very few unisex knots! It is also the standard for summer dance For a woman’s yukata or kimono, a hanhaba obi would be used. The men’s obi is about 2/3 the width of a hanhaba so the knot would end up much smaller. At a matsuri, people often stick their fan (uchiwa) in the back of the obi to hold it.

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In the photo above there is an obijime used with this obi, but it’s not needed to hold up the obi. It’s just used as decoration. This knot is appropriate for casual daily wear, such as shopping.

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A colored infographic of how to tie it:

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Hope this helps. You can search for 貝の口 きもの 方 or 文庫帯 きもの。

Paper Lanterns

The third and last installment of the Thedosian Lunar New Year shorts! 

@ravenclawnerd @drhu0806 @tsyele @yukaryote @cerulione @lalafoxtrot @thefluffynug @specialenemyalistair @karininini @aubergion @prisillysaurus

Aeveth let the flame dance above the tip of her finger, observing as it flickered and snapped to the stir of her breath.  For a moment she ignored everything else around her but the thin thread of the Fade she had plucked through the weave of the Veil, working it with her mind until it was spun into enough reality to light the wick of Taka’s lantern.

“Aeveth, are you going to light this, or are you going to keep making your family uncomfortable?”  Taka rustled the large paper lantern dangling from his fingers.

“I’m going to light it,” Aeveth said, “though you know full well which option I would prefer.”

“Come now,” Taka said pleasantly, despite the brief narrowing of his eyes.  “It’s the last night of the new year.  Be courteous for a little while longer.”

She knelt, heedless of the muddy winter ground.  Tomorrow the silken robe she wore would be taken and laundered, as well as the jacket and the wide belt from which hung a family heirloom, five skillfully carved pieces of jadeite strung between complicated decorative knots.  It was petty, she knew, but she had lost patience with her family some time between the backhanded compliments over tea and the insistence that she have children.  Dirtying the robe was not going to make her mother any less derisive, nor her father any less cold, but it would help her feel better.

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What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life?

A very special ‘thank you’ to iwouldliketosayhello and wolfkinq on Tumblr for keeping me company as I wrote this at odd hours. Also, Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither do any of the countries mentioned. Get back to me after ‘World Domination Phase Three’ is complete.

What Are You Doing For The Rest Of Your Life?

Matthew curled beneath the bus shelter and tried to ring out his sweater. It was a lost cause, of course. The thunderstorm had soaked through his clothes, through his satchel, through his notes. He was a mess.

‘Clear skies,’ the weatherman had said. 'No chance of rain,’ he said. Bullshit. Matthew should have known better than to take him at his word.

He grumbled and pulled out an old, worn handkerchief. It was wet.

He used it anyway.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” A man shouted as he darted up the street and ducked into shelter. He hissed and shook his hands, splashing both of them. He sneezed.

Matthew disliked him immediately.

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