I'm gonna be honest all the diagnals scared me at first, and I did have to redo the beginning like 3 times, but its turning out really good!!!!
thank you so much for making this pattern!!!!
ahh! it really is!
in this photo you've just arrived at my own least-favourite row, Decaptafreak's pitiless, scraggly eyebrows:
but having vanquished the tomfoolery of the first two rows, I'm sure you sailed right through it — the fills are working up beautifully with the yarn/hook combo you've chosen!
It's just so fun that this pattern, a rabbit-hole I went down over the weekend to avoid other things, is probably already someone's actual Christmas present, wherever on Earth you are! I never get over it.
(also we used to have that exact mug, and it would be a whole thing to explain, but its showing up is a very touching bit of happenstance.)
For the song blurb thing, imagine by Ariana grande with Elias Pettersson
Ooof. This one got really sweet and sappy. Hope you enjoy.
It wasn’t often that you and Elias both had the day off together. You were attending school and working to afford it and he was a professional hockey player who sometimes was on the road more than he was home. It was why days like this were so treasured.
Though you’d both woken up over an hour ago, neither of you had made the effort to leave his bed, instead, you were curled into his chest, your head tucked into his neck as you breathed in the scent of his soap and detergent mixed with something you could only define as him.
Eventually, he lifted your joined hands to his mouth, kissing your skin gently. Looking up at him, you smiled and tugged his mouth closer to your own, kissing him softly. Pulling back you stared into his blue eyes for a moment before settling yourself back in his arms.
“I love you.” You whispered, knowing that he knew but feeling the need to say it anyway. When he murmured the words back in Swedish you smiled. You definitely didn’t understand the language but he had used that phrase enough that you knew its meaning.
“Imagine if we could just stay like this forever.” You whispered, the fingers of your free hand reaching up to tangle gently in his blond hair.
“Come with me this summer and we can spend plenty of mornings just like this...” He responded causing your eyes to go wide. You’d only been dating for a few months and now he was basically asking you to go to Sweden with him for the summer.
“Elias...” You whispered, shifting to hover over him a bit. “I...I don’t know how I’d swing that. I mean there’s getting a passport and the whole visa thing...and I need to work to save up for fall tuition...”
“Well...I mean there’s one thing that could make all of that a whole lot easier...” He mumbled, his cheeks going pink. Though it was your right hand he had laced with his own, the fact that he was playing with your ring finger made your eyes furrow.
“Are....are you implying...” You whispered, your eyes now going wide with disbelief.
“I mean...if that’s something you want...I’ll admit I’ve imagined it.”
“So have I.” You breathed, your voice growing tight as tears pooled in your eyes. It hadn’t taken long after meeting him to realize how perfect Elias was for you but you never thought this was a realistic possibility so soon. With his thumb brushing against your cheek you swallowed hard.
“Do you really want to marry me?” You questioned causing your boyfriend’s grin to grow as he stretched beneath you to reach into his bedside drawer. When his hand returned it was holding a tiny black box and immediately the pooled tears began to fall.
“More than anything.” He stated, popping the box open to reveal a simple platinum band that had a gorgeous round cut diamond resting on it. Glancing between you and the box, his gaze grew expectant and after nodding at him quickly, the ring was slipped out of its box and onto your finger. “I can’t imagine my world without you.” He murmured before kissing you softly, laughter ringing through the apartment as you squealed excitement hitting as you realized that you were really going to marry this man.
The MC has pretended to be the royal alchemist for years while having an affair with the queen. Now, the queen is about to give birth to the MC’s child, and the king suspects the child is not his. He’s asked the MC to poison and kill the child.
He understood his mistakes more now than he ever had --but, then again, that's the way Dumbledore wanted it. He understood the power of his words now. Understood how just one word could leave a person broken on the floor with their heart ripped out. He felt guilty for calling Lily a mudblood. He felt guilty that he'd been so influenced by his housemates that he thought that word was acceptable to use, no matter the circumstances. He felt guilty that he had told the Prophecy to the Dark Lord. Felt guilty that his actions had led to the death of two people. He still loved her. In a way, he probably always would. She was his first friend, the first person to care about him, the first person to stand up for him. But she was not the only one -- not anymore -- and there was the difference. He loved her, as he always had, and always would, but she wasn't his world anymore. His life no longer centered around her.
I lay here in my bed viciously typing something that I won't bother to read again, but I continue to do it. Drowning in music and fighting the urge to stay awake, it's an endless cycle for me. There's a lot of times where I wish I could just close my eyes and sleep, but that's never the case. I think maybe if I do a lot during the day that I'll actually be tired enough to fall asleep, but it never works. I'm just tired, and sleep won't cure this one.
It's so much easier to just write, rather than to plan out an essay that analyzes the rhetorical structures of how the author put something together. If it just flows out, I don't have to worry about structure or if a sentence is complete. Because that's my style of writing. That's why I guess I write on here. To escape all the bullshit in my life. Or maybe I write to try and feel tired. Or even to sleep. I usually just stay up and imagine drawing on the canvas that is the white ceiling above me. I have memorized every uneven stroke of paint that has gone across these white walls. I have memorized the scratches and dents on the closet door in front of me. I have memorized how many crayons are on each canvas and every moment that was captured by my picture. I have done everything but sleep.
I feel sick. My stomach twists into knots as I continue to smile like there's nothing wrong. Always tired, never sleeping. Every time I close my eyes, it's like something is there to pry them open. Or I'll close my eyes and open them again to wake up in the morning. I can't remember my dreams anymore, I'm not sure there are that many anymore. I wonder if people notice, that I'm sad or just different. Sure I get asked if something is wrong or if I had a bad day, but it's not great. I'm so sorry if I ever lie to you, just know that I am trying to be happy, it just takes time and I hope that you all realize that.
I'll probably add more to this, but I'm tired and can't think of anything else to write at this moment. So maybe I'll come back to this, maybe I won't. I guess it all just depends.
