worth of wool

  • ah ro: you don't think i can fight because i'm a girl?
  • ji dwi: i don't think you can fight because you're wearing a wedding dress. for what it's worth, i don't think yeo wool can fight wearing that dress either.
  • yeo wool: perhaps not, but i would make a radiant bride.
Amish Au

by @onenightandgone from kkt 

‘Why, dearest Yixing! Won’t you go a courting with me?’ she waved her handkerchief from the edge of the field she had been plowing. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the mud stains on the hem of her dress.

'Let me ask your father!’ Yixing said as he walked by.

Five minutes later, Yixing walked out of your house. 'Why, Miss Y/LN! Your father did indeed acquiesce, but only if I traded him my best sheep! Don’t worry, you’re worth every bit of wool that I lost!’


A Maison Worth cyclamen pink wool evening coat, circa 1910,

Djellabah inspired with couched gold thread embroidery to the shoulders, wide dolman sleeves edged with elaborate silk cord and gold thread macramé fringes and tassels, two large matching pendants to the back below crochet tulips Jean Philippe Worth was the chief designer at this period

You might have noticed I kind of like the Flock, so, uh, here’s a character sheet for the first seven of them. With height and size reference at the shoulder both in cm and inches for the metrically challenged.

Groknar is the biggest of the first bunch, and the only actual male. (I headcanon 30% of all sheep have genders at all, and those have a 50/50 split.) He’s pretty much the sheep version of a macho man, very concerned about seeming powerful. He is pretty darn good to have on your side in a fight.

Grazer seems like the same type until you get to know him and realize he has a poetic streak a mile wide. Sometimes he goes out of his way to speak in rhyme or alliteration, and it drives everyone nuts.

Horace prefers having six legs. He somehow manages to run effectively with them, though it looks kinda funny. Well, it looks funny until he’s caught up with you and impaled you on something. Then it’s not so funny anymore.

Teeth looks like a crocodile in disguise. He has spikes everywhere, and grows more whenever he can. Despite this, he’s one of the friendliest nightmares you’ll ever meet, and spends most of his time playing with the dreams.

Darcrack is a little weird. Now, all nightmares give people, well, nightmares, but Darcrack’s the worst. He gives you the kind of dreams that make you scared to sleep for the next three days. Do not fall asleep with this fluffball in the room. He also can’t really talk, because the static in his voice is so bad that even other sheep usually can’t hear a word of what he’s saying. Suffice to say, the few times he does boher to talk, you better listen real close.

Lolonja is kind of the unofficial mother of the Flock. She’s very empathic and goes out of her way to make sure everyone’s happy and content. She’s the one to go to if you’re feeling down.

Killer is smart, snarky, fierce and tiny. She also refuses to admit she’s tiny. She gets into fights with things ten times her size, and often wins by pure ferocity and quick thinking, but she also gets hurt more often than the rest of them put together.

These descriptions are of course only my own headcanons and can be used or disregarded however people want, but I wanted to draw them for reference.

jayalaw  asked:

For Transcendence, think you could write about Mabel shearing the flock to make sweaters? And how the furballs like Erschie would respond?

She brandished a razor.

“Mabel no.”

From under her sweater, Mabel pulled out an…oh god, that was an industrial sized razor how had she fit it under there-

“Seriously, no.”

Mabel frowned, and then pulled some large scissors out of the waistband of her skirt.

“Okay, if I said no to razors, what makes you think the scissors would change my mind?”

Mabel dropped all three to the ground and pouted. “Their wool is so soft and I’ve always wanted to try making my own yarn and please pleasepleaseplease-”

Dipper held up his hands.

“Okay, okay, fine! I gotta ask them first though.”

Mabel nodded. “That’s fair.” She went to pick up the razor and Dipper shook his head.

“You don’t need that. They can will the wool off.”

“Oh my god really?!”

Dipper grinned.

She didn’t need to know that they did that by way of explosion. But hey, an hour of picking up wool from a three hundred yard radius around each of the Flock was worth it to have the wool, right?

(Mabel did not think so)