simply knitting

thegaypumpingthroughyourveins  asked:

One of Graves' biggest passions, though he would never admit it out loud, is knitting. When Newt's birthday comes, he gets an anonymous gift that contains a pale blue sweater knit with love with a picture of a hipogriff.

@thegaypumpingthroughyourveins This is gross, I love it.

Healing from the physical damage Grindelwald had laid upon his body had turned out to be relatively simple. Not easy, no - Graves would never go so far as to say easy - but simple. Take these potions, rest for these many days, perform these exercises to regain the musculature lost, eat this many calories, drink this much water; orders, Graves could follow.

It was the after part that he struggled with. After his body had healed. After all visible signs it had ever happened were gone. Graves had always been a very physical creature. So it was beyond his comprehension when he woke up one day feeling amazing only to realize that his heart was still sick. His body had never felt better, but he was loathe to leave his bed in the morning and dreaded even more the act of climbing into it at night - deterred to sleep lest he dream. Lest he fall back into that place…

So he works more; anything to keep him from his house and the silence that waited for him there. Anything to keep his mind off the gnawing sense of emptiness in his chest. Anything to keep him moving, lest he stop moving altogether.

And when Picquery catches onto to this and forces him to leave his office on time because honestly, Graves, you just survived a madman. I’m not going to let you work yourself to death when only just got you back - Graves decides to start making daily walks through Central Park. At first only in the evenings but as time passes, he goes in the mornings too and it’s then that she meets her:

Julie-Ann Marie Smith.

He had been sitting on a park bench and staring out over the expanse of the park when she randomly sat next to him one day, this innocent little No-Maj. She had a curtain of cute silver curls atop her head and these huge spectacles that made his blue eyes two sizes too big to not be comical. She wore her Sunday best every day, her neck and wrists and ears outlined in modest jewelry.

“May I join you, young man?” She had asked quite kindly, her hands trembling where they held up her rather hefty looking bag.

Graves blinked, then made a point of scooting over to make room for her.

“Of course,” he said.

“Thank you.”

It turned out the woman came to the park to knit that day, and as Graves would later find, every day. He watched as she pulled out two long, wicked looking needles and a ball of soft yarn and simply began to knit right next to a total stranger.

He had thought about leaving from his morning walk early, only… he couldn’t stop watching her hands weave such plain and simple yarn into something long and grand and elaborate. There was something soothing in the gesture of her needles, in the way the fibers melded into something greater, in the way she created something out of nothing. Without realizing it, his fingers danced in the air from where they hung between his knees, hunched over as he was while watching her. He startled when she suddenly spoke.

“Would you like for me to teach you?”

“E-excuse me?”

“Knitting. Would you like for me to teach you?” She asked again, her eyes never lifting from her work, but still somehow growing gentle. “You look as though you’ve got a bit of an inch in your hands. I find it helps me keep my hands occupied when I get an inch. I tend to lately, since he passed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Graves said.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and something glimmered behind the thick lens of her glasses.

“I’m afraid I must go,” Graves said, rising to his feet only to pause. He watched her for a moment, contemplating. Curious. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer another day.”

“I’m not hard to find,” she smiled. 

They end up making somewhat of a ritual together. Every morning, thirty minutes before work, Graves met Julie-Ann in the park at their bench. He brought coffee for himself, tea for her and two of those oddly shaped scones everyone’s been going on about for the both of them. She teaches him to knit and once he’s learned, they knit together every morning.

Its soothing for his hands and occupies his mind. He sleeps better after sitting beside his fireplace knitting until he’s weary. It helps him clear his head for his cases and actually makes it far easier for him to connect the dots between patterns in his criminal cases than ever before. It lowers his blood pressure and winds him down after a hard day at work. 

The only problem is - what does one do with several dozen blankets and scarves and mittens?

He thinks of Credence and the other Barebone children, and decides to give them away.

Time passes that way for a while, kind and patient and healing. He overhears Tina telling Queenie and Newt about how she’s been seeing a lot of orphans running around with finely knit sweaters and mittens and scarves and how wonderful that is - some organization must have finally taken an interest in New York’s children - and Graves can’t help but smile ever so slightly, proud. If Queenie catches his gaze as she hands him his coffee later and smiles at him strangely, neither of them comment on why.

But even so, Graves’ favorite reaction he has gotten to any of his creations has to be when Newt Scamander finds a simple brown package on his desk one day - no note, except for a simple tag that reads “Happy Birthday”. 

It is a simple sweater, nothing too elaborate - Graves isn’t that good yet. But it’s made of fine, soft yarn; the sort of sweater you relax in when it snows. And into the yarn, Graves had weaved a gentle spell that wove the image of a hippogriff into the front - grand and tall and proud. 

He overhears Newt asking quite nearly everyone who created such a kind gesture for him, but no one knows. And no one dares ask the director, because why would a man like Percival Graves own knitting needles?

Graves smiles over the rim of his cup, listening to them try and solve the mystery. It isn’t until Christmas that he’s found out.

“Mr. Graves,” Newt asks, lingering at his door. 

Graves blinks. It’s late and most of his people have left to go attend Christmas with their respective families. He thought it was only himself in the office at this point. But here Newt is, case in one hand, a familiar package in the other.

“Mr. Scamander,” Graves greets in return, eyes on the package and the familiar length of scarf tumbling slightly out its side.

Newt walks into his office, more confident as he goes.

“I didn’t realize anyone else was here,” Newt says, eyes wandering along the office as he goes.

“Neither did I,” Graves says. “You don’t have plans?”

“For Christmas? No. Going home didn’t quite pan out this year. Rarely does. You?”

“Nothing to go home to,” Graves says before he can stop himself. Silence reigns between them.

“Would you like to spend Christmas night with me, then?” Newt asks, and Graves blinks - surprised.

He accepts.

They spend their Christmas night in the employee lounge by the fire, exchanging polite conversation followed by kind stories. They discuss this and that. They talk about Theseus, their connection in common. They talk about Newt’s beasts and, as Newt becomes more and more comfortable over their fire whiskey, the goals he has for his creatures (and the illegal extent of his case within). 

Graves decides not to take note of it. It it Christmas after all.

It isn’t until late that night or perhaps early morning that Newt finally tottered onto his feet, case in hand, ready to depart for the night. Graves rose to his feet to see him off, determined to spend the night in his office - no point in going home at this hour.

“Well I had a lovely evening, Mr. Graves,” he says, “Thank you.”

“As did I,” Graves says. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Scamander.”

“Merry Christmas,” he says back, then bends to pick up his little package as he catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

The scarf unravels from the package extravagantly - yellows and blacks and grays. Newt smiles fondly, his fingers digging into the soft yarn pleasantly. He looks up at Graves with a strange look.

“Your secret santa gift?” Graves bluffs.

“Yes,” Newt says.

Graves looks at the scarf in the man’s scarred hands and feels a plume of pride. He really likes the way the Hufflepuff themed scarf had turned out. He had tried to replicate the one Newt had said he lost, burned accidentally by a baby dragon he had in his care for a week. 

And from the look on Newt’s face, he very much likes the outcome too. Graves watches as the man takes the scarf in his hands and deftly winds it around his neck until his mouth and nose is all but lost in its warmth. But even so, Graves can tell the man is smiling. 

Graves doesn’t know it smells like him. Like whiskey and old books and rich cologne. Newt cherishes it.

“I suppose this is goodnight then,” Newt says, suddenly walking toward him. Graves doesn’t realize his intent until its too late - until there’s lips on his cheek, chaste and bashful.

And then they’re gone.

“Thank you for my scarf, Mr. Graves,” Newt says, blushing, as he walks away. Graves stiffens.

“How do you know it was me?” Graves challenges him, eyes on his back as he goes. Newt pauses, glances at him over his shoulder, and smiles.

“You’re the only one I told about my old scarf,” he says. “Because I knew you were the only one who wouldn’t make fun of me for losing another article of clothing to my creatures.”

Graves blinked. People made fun of him? But –

“Goodnight, Percival,” Newt said, his smile as warm as the whiskey in Graves’ belly. 

“Goodnight, Newt.”

6

HEY, WE NEED TO MAKE A HOUSE PAYMENT LIKE YESTERDAY SO I’M OPENING UP KNITTING COMMISSIONS!

• I’ll knit you a solid-color hat and mail it to you for $20. I can do ribbing, cables, a pom-pom on top, whatever! these take a day or so to make.
• For $40 I will make you a cowl scarf like the gray one in the pic! I can do cables and/or ribbing on these as well. Takes a day or two.
• I can make you a long, WARM scarf like the ones pictured for $60, which would take around 3~4 days. Scarves can be cabled (like the white one) or simply knit (like the red one).

Please drop me a line on here if you’re interested in commissioning me! Signal boosts are encouraged and appreciated :^)

archiveofourown.org
temptation

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin

Pairing: Eren Yeager/ Levi  (EreRi)

Words: 2k+

Rating: T

Summary: He’s like a poison that lies ridden beneath Eren’s skin, and the more Eren yearns to dig it out, the deeper it sinks into the flesh. He’s bothersome, but to himself unbothered. There’s no reason why someone as beautiful as him should be allowed to grace such a messed up and forgotten world. (cont. on ao3 site)

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Temptation.

Eren knows that such feelings follow him wherever he may go.

It makes him feel stuck. He hates it.

Whether it be during his walk through the dewy grass in the early morning, before anyone else wakes, or on his journey back to his bed chamber late in the night, while he’s not quite paying attention.

Doesn’t matter what he’s doing, certain thoughts just seem to grace him whenever, cloud his mind with a certain lust and wanting. These thoughts and wants can be fixed only by the confidence that he finds himself lacking, the confidence needed to say what he needs to say, to get what he longs to have, and keep for himself.

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songwriters pt. 7

whee here’s part 7! The next Yoongi POV is coming in two parts or so so stay tuned! Thank you to everyone who’s been reading <3 - admin lily

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six 


You woke up the next day feeling like the coaching with BTS had been a really pleasant dream. But after checking your phone, you were reminded that it was very real indeed. You stared at the short conversation you had with Yoongi and smiled to yourself. This truly was surreal, and you had a feeling this new job would change your life.

After a quick breakfast, you headed out to meet Jung-ho at his office. You still had other work to wrap up, which thankfully kept you occupied and avoided you to overthink what had happened with Yoongi. Your next mission with BTS had been confirmed. You were to coach Jungkook on his cover of Charlie Puth’s ‘We Don’t Talk Anymore’. It wasn’t R&B, but he needed a few pointers on his English pronunciation. You weren’t a huge fan of the song mainly because you didn’t relate to the lyrics, but the actual melody had potential.

You rehearsed the song with Jung-ho quickly for his approval before he contacted Big Hit to set a date. The cover was set to be released a few weeks later so you had to feel confident that you coach Jungkook to perfection.

“Y/N, you’ve been singing really well lately. It’s too bad you don’t write your own songs, I’d probably sign you” Jung-ho said jokingly.

“Oh, thank you sunbaenim, but I really don’t think I’m made to perform.”

You always knew that the spotlight didn’t belong to you and you were okay with that. Music had to be a part of your life, but performing really wasn’t your goal.

“I could probably get you a few gigs in bars if you ever want to sing. I think you’d do pretty well, especially now that you’re learning a whole new set of covers for the BTS boys”

“Hmm, well definitely not now but I’ll think about it…Thank you sunbae, your support means a lot.”

Jung-ho looked at you with sad eyes. You knew it bothered him to see your talent wasted, but there really wasn’t anything that you could do for him. You had one track mind, and that didn’t include a stage with your name on it.

The following Monday, Jung-ho came to pick you up to go to Big Hit. You had dressed simply, wearing a knit black dress with tights and black booties. You were still very conscious of not dressing to show yourself off and you valued plainness over flashiness. This time you had your hair up in a messy bun, your bangs framing your face and you wore gold 70s inspired gold hooped earrings to feel at least a minimum pulled together.

This time you were both greeted by BTS’ famous manager Sejin and you found yourself internally fangirling for a second. Sejin was famous for being a very caring and reasonable person, which you really looked up to, especially in this business. He led you to a smaller studio to warm up, letting you know that Jungkook would join you in a moment. You weren’t as nervous as the last time you were at Big Hit, but felt a bit uneasy to coach someone one-on-one. Jungkook knocked and stepped in shyly, politely bowing and greeting you. You stood up and bowed, and noticed how intense his eyes were. He was young but you could tell he had the confidence of a man much older.

“Jungkook-ssi, lovely to see you again. Let’s work hard together today.”

“Thank you sunbaenim. Call I call you Y/N-noona? I feel a bit odd since you’re my hyung’s age.” Jungkook asked softly, his big puppy dog eyes looking at you playfully.

“Oh…well…sure whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” You replied, uneasy at his attitude towards you. You had a quick look at him while grabbing yourself a glass of water and understood that he was quite the heartthrob, his loose jeans and rolled oversized shirt unable to conceal his muscles and veiny arms. You had a weakness for nice hands and arms but Jungkook’s pretty boy act wasn’t enough to sway you away from your professionalism. You were there to coach him, and the eye candy didn’t matter.

You asked him to sing ‘We Don’t Talk Anymore’ for you and understood what you had to work on with him right away. His pronunciation was actually quite good, but he needed a few pointers for some consonants and breathing pointers. His interpretation was fairly good as well, and you suspected he worked hard on understanding the lyrics before covering them.

After giving him a few diction exercises to work on and signalling where you felt he needed to spend a little bit more time, you wondered how you were going to fill the entire hour you had left with him.

“Jungkook I honestly feel you’ve got this song under your belt, did you want to end this short? I know you’re quite busy and wouldn’t want to keep you”.

“Noona, actually, I wanted to ask you if we could record it together so that I can work on it on my own…”

“Oh well…is that okay?” You were nervous at the thought of you being recorded since it wasn’t in the contract you had quickly went over with Manager Sejin and Jung-ho.

“I’ll just do it on my laptop! Honestly it’s just for me to practice, please noona?”

You got up from the piano and sighed. It was really difficult to say no to the Bangtan boys.

“Sure Jungkook. I guess I’ll sing Selena’s part?”

Jungkook beamed. He was cute, gorgeous, and talented, but you didn’t feel the anticipation you felt when performing with Yoongi. Was it because of his age? Or his musical maturity? You weren’t sure.

Jungkook pulled up the background track and his self-confidence radiated. Unlike with Yoongi, you felt like he was looking at you instead of singing with you. It was an odd experience and you didn’t really enjoy it.

Your own performance felt a little bit disconnected but you were happy Jungkook was making an effort to pay attention to what you had just told him. He was quick at self-correcting and you saw the years of training behind him shining through. He really was impressive.

“That was great Jungkook! I’m sure the final cover will be amazing, I can’t wait for it to be released.”

“You’re such a great singer noona…I’m surprised you don’t have a solo career especially since you look so amazing…”

You looked up at Jungkook, alarmed.

“Do you have a studio? I learned so much from you and would love to work more with you.”

Jungkook’s attitude switched to cute puppy to hungry wolf and you noticed it right away. He had moved closer, his eyes were looking lower than you liked.

“Thank you for the compliment, but I really don’t think you’ll need further coaching from me on this song but if your voice coach feel like you need more help feel free to contact my manager.” You said sternly. You were really turned off by this whole situation. The song wasn’t your thing, and the air had become so hormone filled that you felt like you were in a crowded club. You moved away from Jungkook and packed your tote quickly.

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll see you at the group coaching.” Jungkook seemed shocked that you hadn’t fell into his arms and his bitterness was starting to show.

“Yes! Thank you for your time today, you’re really talented. I’ll get going now.” You left calmly but were raging inside. As a woman in the music industry, you often felt like you had to constantly watch how you behaved in case people misunderstood you as a groupie. Situations like these made it difficult for you to stay professional, especially since you were known to have a temper.

The sound of the heels of your booties resonated as you walked down the corridor hastily. As you were rummaging in your tote to reach for your phone to call Jung-ho, you looked up to see Yoongi coming out of a studio.

“Oh.” He said simply.

“Yoongi-ssi” you said quietly. You stopped to talk to him. He seemed in a good mood, his complexion much better than a few weeks earlier. He looked so different from Jungkook, and reminded you of the guys you knew from music school. He was wearing black jeans and sneakers, and an unbuttoned flannel over a tshirt.

“I guess today was the coaching with Jungkook huh…” he said, his voice a little raspy.

“Yes, we just finished. He didn’t need much coaching to be honest.”

Yoongi smiled.

“Yeah they’re hyping up that cover a lot. It’s good that you got to help him a bit.”

“Yes well…I tried my best to help him perfect it.” Yoongi had been acting so gently that it made you feel uneasy and you avoided his gaze, blushing slightly.

“Oh um, well, actually, now that you’re here do you have a few minutes to—

“Y/N! You’re done already?”

Jung-ho had appeared with Manager Sejin, beaming. You turned back at Yoongi who by that point had stopped smiling. You felt disappointed and wondered what he was about to ask you.

“Yes, I was just telling Yoongi-ssi that Jungkook didn’t need much coaching because his cover was so great already.” You turned to manager Sejin and bowed politely. “Thank you for this great opportunity.”

“It’s our pleasure. The boys enjoyed your coaching last time and because of recent international promotions we need all the help we can get. Right Yoongi?”

Yoongi nodded, clearly annoyed.

“Shall we, Y/N? Sejin-ssi, it was lovely seeing you but we shouldn’t bother you much longer.”

You looked up quickly at Yoongi who returned your gaze, bowed and went back in the studio. Perhaps he was disappointed too, you wondered.

***

In the car, you gave a detailed run-down of what happened with Jungkook to Jung-ho. As you suspected, he wasn’t happy that he had recorded you but applauded you for your professionalism when you talked to him about how you felt when Jungkook asked to meet up outside of work.

“I’m worried this might hinder future professional encounters with them, sunbae…what should I do? Should I avoid working one-on-one with them?”

Jung-ho wasn’t pleased but you were comfortable talking freely to him and Young-ja.

“Big Hit are very sensitive about scandals so I’ll give Sejin a call. He’s a reasonable man and I’ll explain the concerns you’re having as soon as we get back to the studio. And I think you’re right, we should stick to group coachings.”

You were relieved that Jung-ho was supportive but a part of you mourned other one-on-one coachings you might’ve had. Perhaps this was all for the best, you thought to yourself, while looking out the window.

Lace Dreams

Pairing: Leo/Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Dom/sub relationship, filthy language, spanking, explicit oral sex, humiliation, masturbation, mentions of bondage, consensual sexual violence, teasing

Wordcount: 3732

Request: Dom!Leo involving spanking.

Notes: So I might have heavily tapped into my own Daddy/princess fantasies to write this *coughs* don’t judge me i’m a pervert like all of you *chokes* ahem…This was very, very fun to write. Thanks to the anon who requested ^_^ This is in Leo’s POV I hope y'all enjoy this and that it makes up for me being a terrible blogger who neglects her followers someone send leo to punish me hahahaaaa (don’t mind me I have zero brain cells left tbh)

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3

Maybe I’ll Forgive You (Beruka x Camilla)


“…”

“Beruka, darling, what are you doing?”

“…”

Beruka had been caught red handed. Camilla had found her huddled in a dark corner, out of the way where the assassin thought no one would approach or spot her. Camilla seemed to have Beruka radar though as she never seemed to have any trouble finding her retainer.

“I’m… not… this isn’t what it looks like,” Beruka said, already trying to hide the evidence. It had already fallen under Camilla’s watchful eye so there was no escaping what was about to come next.

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Cherry Pie

Summary: The boys and the reader meet up with the ghostfacers, Ed has a thing for the reader and that makes Sam jealous

Word Count: 2,334

Reader Gender: Female

Character: Sam Winchester

A/N: Not my best just because I couldn’t settle on an idea. So, sorry about this anon! This is unedited, I wrote this when I should’ve been doing homework so I rushed to get it done. Much love!

After hunts you were usually as good as dead, this one especially. You, Sam, and Dean had just burnt a wendigo to a crisp in the middle of a national park, taking a good portion of the nature down with it, but that little fucker didn’t want to die. No thing or person in their right mind would want to die, but that’s beside the point. Despite your medium 5’7 height, the wendigo towered at least two feet over you, almost a foot over the boys, and thus, your height made you more vulnerable.The fucker thrashed at you before he went up in flames, sinking his claws into your side, leaving a deep gash along the whole length of your left side. A tidal wave of blood pooled in the wound and seeped over the exposed flesh, coating yet burning your skin in a way no one should ever feel, and your heavy wool coat just didn’t do the trick in clotting the blood.

Your hardheaded mentality showed through more than your determination at this point when you tried to ignore your severe wound and attempt to help Sam and Dean with the job, but you only got as far as telling yourself that you needed to help them before your legs gave out and you dropped to the ground. You started to slip into unconsciousness, but you fought to stay awake, knowing the brothers needed all the help they could get, even if they had faced a wendigo before. The last thing you remembered was Sam hovering over you with a distressed look on his face, a breath of fire engulfing the trees around you, a heavy pressure that you couldn’t bare against your rib cage.

Sam and Dean had rushed you into the car and sped back to the motel before they started to stitch you back up. The large amount of blood you lost numbed the feeling of a needle piercing your flesh and drawing it back together. Though at the same time, the massive loss of blood made you loopy, so loopy that you started to giggle at the worried look on Sam and Dean’s face, which forced Dean to clench your body and press it down into the bed to restrain your movements so Sam could finish stitching up your side.

That all took place in the past few hours. Now, the three of you were sitting in a booth at the local diner, waiting on your food. You sat on the inside of the booth with Sam at your side just in case you happened to black out or you bled through your bandage. Your fingers wrapped around your glass of water, tracing patterns in the side of it.

“How do you feel?” Sam asked in a gentle tone, his hazel eyes clouded with drowsiness.

You shrugged your shoulders timidly, wincing slightly as your skin pulled upward against your stitches. “I’m alive, that’s what counts, right?”

“Do you want some more aspirin?” He questioned, rubbing your right shoulder gently.

“Or do you want a drink?” Dean chimed in, blood clotting in his eyebrow.

You shook your head slowly, hearing the bell from the door ring whenever someone came in. “No,” you sighed out, leaning against Sam, your head on his shoulder as black dots started to cloud your vision. “I’m fine, just… really lightheaded.”

“You lost a lot of blood, just take it easy, all right?” Sam wrapped an arm around your shoulders, squeezing as gently as he could before planting a kiss on the side of your head. You and Sam weren’t a couple, but you weren’t just friends either. You did all the couple-like things like holding hands, hugging, cuddling, kissing, etc. but you never labeled yourself as a couple because of commitment issues. The way you saw it was if you committed to Sam, then you had to include him in everything you did, and you loved your freedom too much to do that.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled as he ducked his head down, scratching the side of it to shield his face.

You instantly sat up, tensing your body which strained your stitched, but you didn’t care. “What?” You said lowly, clenching your hand.

“Ghostfacers,” Dean simply said.

You knit your eyebrows together, confusion painting across your features. Sam set a hand on your leg to calm you, worrying that you’d tear your stitches. “They’re paranormal experts, as they call themselves,” Sam started to explain. “They’re nothing but stupid, honestly.” He looked over his shoulder toward the two men.

“Ed and Harry, they’re nerds,” Dean added, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nerds like they have no idea what they’re doing because they use a shit ton of technology for their ‘hunts’ and they’re careless,” Sam explained further, looking down at the table. “They’re trouble magnets.”

You peered over Sam’s shoulder, fighting against the strenuous urge to close your eyes, and gazed over at the two men. “Uh, they’re coming over here,” you said, quickly averting your eyes.

No sooner, one of them with short black hair called out “Winchesters!” in the most high pitched voice ever, even you cringed. Sam forced a smile onto his lips, casting a gaze over at the petite men. “Harry, Ed, always nice to see you two,” Sam’s voice strained microscopically. He shook hands with the black-haired on before the other one with gingery hair.

“Do you mind if we sit?” The ginger said, already pulling up a chair.

“Yes,” Dean mumbled from behind his hand.

“No,” you cut Dean off, kicking him from under the table.

As if for the first time, both men noticed you were sitting next to Sam, and their eyebrows shot up in shock. They both gaped at you, their mouths partially open. You glanced over at Sam, giving him a questioning look but he just shrugged, giving you one of his confused frowns.

“Uh,” you started off, your voice at a moderate level, but the Ghostfacers, as Dean called them earlier, cut you off.

The one with short black hair shot his arm out and grasped your hand tightly, pulling your arm out roughly. “Harry Spengler, director of GHOSTFACERS,” he said in a dramatic tone. Sam happened to notice the sudden grasp and shot Harry a warning look, but he didn’t seem to care.

Before you could introduce yourself, the ginger took your hand and shook it up and down harshly, pain shooting throughout your side. “Ed Zeddmore, I’m the ginger in charge,” he laughed at his own joke, ignoring the distress on your face.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself in a strained voice, pulling your hand out of his grasp and cradled your side delicately. All four sets of eyes flashed to you, the Ghostfacers now deciding to notice you weren’t in the best physical shape.

Sam seemed to be as bothered by your pain as you were. His hands hovered over yours, carefully lifting them from your side before he lifted your shirt up so he could inspect the stitches under the bandage. His fingers lightly brushed over your wound, the skin around it a soft pink. You sucked in a sharp breath when he put a small amount of pressure onto the area and squeezed you eyes closed. You clasped your hands around each other, wringing your fingers until the ginger, Ed, reached over a set a bulky hand on yours.

“Sam,” you mumbled through gritted teeth as he tugged on the stitch to tighten it.

“All right, all right,” he whispered, flashing a quick smile up at you. He pressed the bandage back against the perimeter of the wound and pulled your shirt back down to cover your side. “We’re going to have disinfect it again when we get back to the motel, it’s getting a bit irritated.”

You nodded at him, sending him a weak smile, “I can do that.”

“What happened?” Ed questioned, squeezing your hands to grab your attention.

You lifted your eyebrows, pulling your hands out from under his grasp and set them in your lap. You sent Dean a look, asking if they knew about supernatural creatures, and he nodded. “Wendigo,” you said simply, keeping yourself from going too much further since the waitress was coming over with your, Sam, and Dean’s food.

Her bright red hair was cut to frame her face which made her small blue eyes pop. “Here you go,” she said as she set a greasy burger in front of Dean. She set a cold-cut sandwich in front of Sam and an Italian veggie pasta in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?” She asked the three of us before looking over at Ed and Harry.

“Piece of cherry pie?” Ed asked and she nodded, writing it down on her notepad.

“All right, and for you, sir?” She asked Harry.

“I’m all right, thanks,” Harry said shyly.

The woman started to walk away before Dean perked up, his mouth full. “Wait! Do you have pecan pie?”

“We do,” she said with a friendly smile on her face. “Would you like a piece?”

“Like three,” you said for Dean. Dean flashed a smile at her, bits of food covering his white teeth. “Dean,” you raised your brows at him, giggling slightly.

“I’ll be right back with your desserts.” She said before rushing back to the kitchen.

“So, Y/N,” Ed grabbed your attention, practically swooning over you. “How long have you been in the paranormal business?”

You laughed at the word ‘paranormal’ since that was implying you only hunted spirits. “Since I was 16, but Ellen and Jo introduced me to the Winchester’s before they died.” You pursed your lips before inhaling deeply as your vision started to go black again, reaching out to grab Sam’s leg to steady yourself.

“Woah, Y/N,” Sam grabbed your shoulder to help support your weight. “You okay?” You shook your head slightly and he reached forward to your glass of water and offered it to you. “Drink, it’ll help,” he instructed. You grasped the glass, the slippery outside making it hard to securely hold it, but you managed to take a small sip. “Better?”

You nodded at him, and set your forehead on his shoulder, a small smile creeping onto Sam’s lips. “Kind of,” you mumbled as he rubbed your back.

The waitress came back with a piece of cherry pie and two pieces of pecan, Dean’s face lighting up with it. “Oh my god, thank you!” He exclaimed, forgetting completely about his burger, analyzing every inch of his pie. “Nobody ever has pecan, nobody.”

“My pleasure, sweetie,” she smiled alluringly at Dean, but nothing could rip his attention from his pie.

You move your head so you were resting your cheek on Sam’s shoulder as he rubbed your back tenderly, making sure to keep you as calm as he could. Through the hazy fog that was present in front of your eyes you saw Ed push his pie plate over to you, a triumphant smile on his lips. You shot him a questioning glance, eyeing the pie cautiously.

“For you, m’lady,” he bowed as much as he could in a chair, doing a weird hand motion.

“Uh, t-that’s sweet, Ed,” you stumbled over your words, lifting your head from Sam’s shoulder.

“A sweet pie for a sweet girl,” he grinned goofily, in some type of trance.

“That’s not necessary,” Sam said, a twinge of hostility in his voice.

“Well, it’s not for you, so it shouldn’t matter,” Ed bit back at Sam, his brow furrowing.

“Look, Ed,” he said deathly calm, “she’s not your to flirt with, okay? She’s nobody’s without her own stamp of approval.” He sassed Ed, making your bite down on your lip nervously. “I mean, you’re trying to kill her too. She’s allergic to cherries, real or artificial.”

“Dude, calm down!” Harry shouted, jumping out of his chair.

Sam shifted in the booth, but you held him down and climbed over him until you were standing on the outside of the booth. You grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged him up next to you. “We’re going to go, I’m not feeling well. My side hurts like fuck and I’m really tired,” you nodded at them, sending Dean a glance that told Dean you’d be out in the car so Sam didn’t lash out at someone. “Later, GhostBusters,” you waved at them before walking out toward the Impala, dragging Sam behind you.

“Ghostfacers!” You heard from behind you.

You ignored them and pushed the door open, stumbling over your own feet from exhaustion. Luckily, Sam guided you over to the Impala and sat you down on the hood, making you his number one priority.

“Are you okay?” He questioned frantically, looking you over to make sure a limb hadn’t disappeared.

“Fine,” you said bitterly even though your side was starting to burn. “You just…need to get out of there.”

“What do you mean? Ed tried to kill you for god’s sake!” He shouted.

You set a hand on his jaw to quiet him, locking gazes with his hazel eyes. “He didn’t know, it was an honest mistake. When you swoon, you don’t tend to think, trust me, you have that effect on people.”

He chuckled at your response, setting his hands on the hood of the car, leaning toward you. “Do I have that effect on you?” He said in a deep, velvety tone.

“Most definitely,” you murmured before he leaned forward to capture your lips in his. You turned your head so his lips landed on your cheek. “But I can definitely avoid it too,” you smirked up at him.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, whatever,” he smirked back at you before softening his gaze. “Let’s just focus on getting you better for now okay? Bobby’s going to kill us if he find you in this condition.”

“Whatever you say, Moose,” you teased him, patting the side of his face with a huge smile on your face.

anonymous asked:

Same anon as before, you have so many great sweaters, where do you find them all? Do you have any links?

I love sweaters! I usually find them randomly on tumblr or on MS3b.

These are some of my favorites sweaters:

Female:

Male:

Both:

Sorry for the long wait, it took me some time to put together my list :)

Also, I tried to find the sweater Marcia is wearing, but I think it’s been removed :(

Username Evie//Joe Sugg

Anon asked:

heyyy I was wondering if you can do one where you’re one of the people helping joe design the story lines of his graphic novel? xx

I have actually been looking forward to writing this one. It’s a bit different from my others but I hope it’s still okay. So sorry for the wait! xx


Another day in the office, and this one in particular you were dreading. You had a passion for graphic design and story telling, and you were lucky enough to have a career in it. designing parts of magazines and comics, and even DVD covers. Usually you would stroll into work excited for a new day of doing what you love, but not today. Today, you, your boss and some other members of your office were meeting with a guy called Joe Sugg. A youtuber, who was soon to be releasing a graphic novel that you were going to help with. You woke up that day, washing your hair before drying it and pulling it up into a ponytail. You then lightly applied your makeup and dressed in a pair of black leggings, a baggy white shirt and a pair of black ballet pumps.

You arrived in the office to see the two other girls re-applying their bright pink lipgloss, and touching up their heavily contoured faces, even pulling down their shirts to make sure that they were showing enough skin for our guest. Even the guy in the corner was frantically patting down his hair. You rolled your eyes, and took your seat at the almost empty table. You, your boss, and the three other designers. You decided you’d best prepare yourself for the storm ahead. You didn’t have anything against this Joe, not at all. You just couldn’t see why people were making such a huge deal out of him working with you. You couldn’t stand the gold digging girls sat beside you, you were in it for the job and nothing else.

That was what you thought until a short golden haired boy pushed open the office door. You had to admit, he was pretty easy on the eyes. Speaking of which, his were of a deep ocean blue that you could easily find yourself getting lost in. And his arms.. stop it Y/N! You’re here to work!

Taking your seat at the table, you took out your folder with some ideas and information that had been given to you. Joe took his seat at the head of the table, and your boss at the other end. The other girls rushed to grab the seats closest to Joe, leaving the guy to sit across from you. You sighed inwardly at the childish behaviour that they were displaying, letting out a soft chuckle, looking down at your lap. When you lifted your head again, you spotted Joe looking towards you with a curious smirk on his face. This took you by surprise, and you were sure that your cheeks had burned to make you look like a tomato, so you sucked in a deep breath and composed yourself.

“Right so first of all, hello to our special guest Mr. Sugg.” Your boss started when everyone was settled. He asked you to share your ideas first out of the other three, so you picked up your folder and began to speak. Every now and then you glanced at Joe to see him staring at you intently, as if studying you, but  somehow, not in a creepy perv way. However you told yourself not to get distracted by this, and carried on, not showing him any interest. You finished your presentation and everyone else did too. Throughout the whole thing, Joe kept shooting glances at you, you pretended not to notice, and that you were deeply engrossed in what the speaker was saying, but you just couldn’t. As you expected the two girls were needy and clingy, and agreed automatically with anything that Joe had said. You rolled your eyes at them, and they didn’t seem to notice, but Joe did. He laughed at you, and you grinned at him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

When the meeting was finally over, everyone stood up from the table, gathering their folders. The two girls grouped together and began chatting like a pair of school children, looking to Joe and giggling, probably about how ‘perfectly gorgeous’ they had said he was. You were just about to exit the room when someone put their arm across the frame. “I never caught your name.” He sated smoothly. “That’s because I never told you.” You smiled, trying again to leave. “You know it’s nice..” He said simply. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What, what’s nice?” You asked, popping your hip, transferring your weight to one leg. “Having at least one person who doesn’t just want to work with me for my subscribers.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

“What makes you think I want to work with you at all?” He sighed.

“That’s not what I meant” He began. “What I meant was it’s nice to have someone who treats me normally, and you’re not like..” He trailed off looking at the girls, staring at you enviously. “the other girls.” He finished, and you laughed a genuine laugh at the fury on their orange faces.

“Y/N” You managed to get out when you finally finished laughing.

“What?” He asked.

“Y/N, that’s my name. You wanted to know.” You told him, giving a little grin. “Well Y/n, I hope to see you again very soon. Maybe we could meet up at some point.”

You looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “I’ll think about it.” You told him and he laughed. “Aw come on, I thought I was winning you over!”

“Don’t flatter yourself Joseph!” You warned and he nodded.

“Fine, goodbye Y/N.” He agreed, holding out his hand, you looked at it for a minute before connecting it with yours. You began to shake it but his firm grip lifted your hand up to his lips as he placed a soft kiss on the back of it, taking you by surprise.

You and Joe actually met up everyday to work on the book, not that you always got that much work done.

A/N: I really like this one! Thanks for reading and requesting!

This is the perfect knitting ring, but don’t take my word for it, check out the great reviews in my shop.

Last year, I got an email from a lady who loves to knit, but knitting had become more difficult due to arthritis in her fingers. The arthritis in her fingers was so severe that it was hard to hold on to the yarn while she was knitting. She wondered if there was any way I could make a ring that would hold the yarn in place and take the tension away from her fingers tips. I made some drawings, we emailed back and forth and finally I came up with this design for a knitting ring. It was an instant hit! This lady is now my greatest promoter and knitting up a storm.

Since then, I’ve designed a ring for 1-2 strands and 1-3 strands. Each ring is custom made from vintage silver plated copper or brass. A fun way to repurpose old silver.

My knitting rings have been featured in: Simply Knitting, magazine UK, May 2014 - Knitsy, emagazine UK, 2014 - Knit Wear magazine, USA Spring 2013

If you want to see the other knitting rings just click www.etsy.com/shop/ItsVera
And check the menu for Knitting, crochet rings.

I haven’t abandoned knitting just because I’ve been doing a little needlework of late.

I saw an Alan Dart raccoon pattern in a knitting magazine and, knowing that she buys it sometimes, demanded (nicely) that my sister to lend it to me if she had it.  I adapted it to make myself a Rocket Raccoon styled after his appearance in skottieyoung’s current run:

I still have to work out an unfeasably huge gun for him, and maybe a little orange outfit too…

Ignore that dpn sticking out of him, I’m using it as a marker point.

The original raccoon toy as featured in Simply Knitting #133: