You know how, for a long time we didn't know nålebinding existed and people thought that those red socks were knitted and it turned out they weren't, they were made by nålebinding, you just had to know very specific details to tell which craft they were made by?
(these socks:)
I know a little bit about a lot of different fiber arts. I know: knitting, crochet, spinning, tatting, bobbin lace, needle lace, embroidery, and a little nålebinding.
Inspired by these socks, I want to create the most archaeologically confounding frankendoily out of all my crafts, and then I want to immediately commit it to a bog, for preservation. A tatted motif at the center, with a bobbin lace round around it. Maybe there's a knitted border with a crochet edge. Some needle lace motifs hanging around, but like, I'm gonna mix Romanian point lace with Battenberg styles. Something's getting embroidered somewhere. Idk.
And I'm gonna make the whole thing out of the most historically generic white cotton thread I can find, something that could maybe have been used hundreds of years ago so you can't tell when the frankendoily was made. Maybe I'll even make it over different decades of my life. Also I'm left handed, but I can do most things right handed too, and some of the crafts look slightly different depending on which hand you used as your dominant hand.
And then the whole thing is going in a bog, because bogs are really specifically good at preserving cloth, and I will go quietly into the void at the end of my life, knowing I leave behind me a very specific kind of chaos and confusion for some very specific future kindred soul.
If anyone has any additional crafts I should learn for the frankendoily, I'm all ears.
You're out walking yours and Simon's dog, Riley, one afternoon when some guy you've never met all but saunters up to you.
He tries to chat you up, laying the flirtation on so thick it congeals into sleaze. You shut him down bluntly at every turn, but unfortunately, he's... determined.
Riley growls as he takes a step closer, the retired military dog pushing himself in front of you with hackles raised and teeth bared.
And still, the stranger doesn't get the hint. He merely huffs out an amused laugh as he looks from Riley to you.
"Didn't realize you had a guard dog -"
Suddenly, his gaze wanders past you. The cocky grin on his face drains away in an instant as he pales.
I just wrote this snippet and I like it, so I'm sharing it.
Garrus shifted position, peering down his scope at the knot of geth standing stock-still together a level below them…
…and flinched back with a curse when his shields immediately sizzled in the sunlight.
“You know, Shepard,” he said, turning to her. “All those times I complained about the cold places you’ve taken me to? This was not what I had in mind.”
“Aw, Garrus, you’re so hard to please,” Shepard said with a lopsided grin. “Someday, I’ll take you somewhere nice and make it up to you.”
Kasumi giggled, Miranda rolled her eyes, and Garrus was glad as usual that turians didn’t blush like humans.