His mom use to teach him and his siblings to knit. Her lessons were fun and noisy. It was a miracle that no one accidentally poked their eyes out. As they got older, Lance ended up being the only one sticking with it and practicing regularly. His siblings would proudly bring it up with every chance they had. Gushing about their new sweaters or plush toys, they would tease him until he went bright red.
Little does he know, the lessons have stopped after his disappearance. Without him his mom had no one to knit with. His mom`s face would twist into a fond yet sad smile whenever she sees kneedles.
One day Lance finds kneedles in the castle. He starts using it immediately. He uses it in Blue or in the comforts in his own room. No one knew. He wasn’t ashamed of being able to knit, he just doesn’t want to tell anyone. Knitting felt like something private he wanted to keep to himself.
- His first project was more of a warmup; tiny colourful sweaters for the mice. They loved it and swore not to tell Allura where they got it from. (Despite her curious pleas)
- Lance crocheted a mini blue lion and gave to Blue and she was so happy. She purred loud and proudly as the others looked on with a twinge of jealousy “LOOK LOOK AT WHAT MY SON MADE ME,” He laughed at this and happily continued to make more mini lions for the rest. She grumbled in slight disappointment but if it makes her siblings happy she is all for it.
- The team is just like what the heck what is this toy doing in my lion??? Where did this come from?????
- Imagine everyone in the team getting hand knitted onesies as a surprise gift from him.
- Keith and Pidge come up w multiple conspiracy theories to where these random presents are coming from??? Was it Hunk??? Was it Coran??? Was it the government ??? They even created a club called ‘Sweater Weather theories,’. It was mandatory to join or else Keith will side eye you and start talking milk shots. He will only stop if u join. (He is lactose intolerant)
- It was hilarious, Lance would never tell them.
- but they do find out eventually and soon enough he starts his own knitting lesson but with the team. His best students to worse students were Hunk, Allura, Shiro, Coran, Pidge and then… Keith. Keith sucked. But he was the most dedicated and enthusiastic about knitting so Lance respects that.
-It was great he never had that much fun in a long time.
- AlsO, imagine happy cosy Lance in a mermaid tail blanket.
((Does this count as a smart!Lance headcannon?
Yeah so I interpreted that episode w the Arusians where Lance said “We can knit them tiny sweaters” as proof he can knit
Send me some more Smart! Lance headcannons in my ask guys pls))
The thud of the bass rattled Stiles’ bones as he approached the sketchy club. He’d taken a cab from his and Derek’s apartment as instructed because Derek hadn’t wanted him wandering around the city so late at night by himself, and Stiles actually agreed. New York was nothing like Beacon Hills.
Sure, there was chaos, murder, and mayhem, but of a completely different nature. The supernatural, Stiles could handle, but human…
His third week in the city, Stiles had been mugged. Derek had been furious with him.
It wasn’t a fair representation of the city. New York was great, and so were the people. The city was surprisingly high on the list of safe major cities as opposed to how it was portrayed in the media and Hollywood, but Stiles had been so used to knowing what goes bump in the night, that he had completely forgotten humans could be just a vicious and cruel as any supposed mythical creature.
So, Stiles now cabbed everywhere he went, usually. Of course, the next time he’d ignored Derek’s mild request to take cabs or wait for Derek to pick him up, Stiles was kidnapped by a grief-stricken, slighted werewolf hell bent on revenge against Laura Hale.
Stiles shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his red straight cut jeans that he wore with one of Derek’s sweaters. Not a club outfit, but Stiles wasn’t at the club to party. He was there to listen to Derek DJ his first gig, or whatever it was called. He bypassed the growing line and walked straight up to the big burly bouncer dude holding a clipboard.
“Sup, dude,” Stiles said. He flashed a grin of false confidence as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “I’m on the guest list. Stiles Stilinski.”
The bouncer eyed him and snorted before he consulted the clipboard. “Sure. ID,” he said.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Stiles fumbled for his wallet, nearly dropping his license when he pulled it out. It was brand new and still glossy. His license had expired a few months ago, and he’d had to renew it in New York. “Here ya go. I’m totally underage. Not trying to sneak in to drink. Just here for the music.”
The bouncer checked his ID, eyes darting between Stiles and his grinning picture, then back down to the guest list. “Sorry, kid. Can’t let you in.”