llvstrouslux
She/her - 18
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Latest Posts by llvstrouslux
chapter 2 ── too easy, this game.
the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.
♥︎ spider-man!caleb x fem!reader
synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.
tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, mdni
chapter summary. ┆ after you’re forced to check up on caleb, you realize that your methods of revenge can be sweeter and much more interesting than you had originally anticipated.
prev: pest control. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!
“Remember that fundraiser I was telling you about?”
You lift your gaze from the sidewalk, giving Tara a sideways glance. “Yeah, I think so. What about it?”
“Well,” she sings, hugging her thick textbook tighter to her chest before nudging you with her elbow, “I was wondering if you’d like to help us out! We’re always looking for more girls, you know. The sisters of Delta Gamma can only do so much.”
You suck your teeth, tilting your head as your eyes drift to the towering oak tree at the center of the great lawn. The campus had spent the past few days drowning under gray skies and spring showers, but today, the sun had finally broken through. Its warmth pressed against your skin, so bright you had to squint just to avoid being completely blinded.
You look back at Tara. “What day is it again?”
“Next Saturday,” she says with a shrug. “2 PM, in the parking lot between the Delta Gamma house and Lambda Chi Alpha’s.” A pause, as if she was already sensing your impending rejection. “Please? Please!”
You hate when she does this. The puppy dog eyes. That hopeful little tilt of her head. The same look that had managed to drag you to one too many frat parties when you swore you wouldn’t go. Saying no made you feel like some heartless villain stomping on an ant just for the fun of it, and for a moment, you almost caved entirely.
“I’ll… think about it, but midterms are–” you start, but before you can finish, she’s already beaming.
“Yay!” Tara links her arm through yours, practically bouncing as you continue toward Grand Hall. “I’ll text you all the details, ‘kay? I so owe you one.”
You press your lips into a thin smile, debating whether to remind her that you hadn’t actually said yes. Instead, you settle for, “If I end up making it, we’ll call it even for you helping me study for chem.”
She grins. “Good luck on that, by the way. I know you’ll do great!”
The two of you stop outside the building, and Tara leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially like she’s about to tell you a scandalous secret.
“And remember, the electron cloud model—”
“—is the area around an atom’s nucleus where electrons are most likely to be found,” you finish, unable to fight a smile. “I know, I know. You trained me well.”
You squeeze her arm before unhooking yourself and stepping into the lecture hall.
“I’ll find you after class!” she calls after you.
Inside, the air is sharp with cold, and a shiver runs down your spine. The mood of the room seems different today, as if the oxygen you were all breathing in was thick with anxiety. Your seatmate, Yvonne, is already at her desk, supplies neatly arranged in front of her. You give her a silent smile before sitting down and doing the same.
Once again, you can’t help but notice that the room is quiet—eerily so. Everyone is either too tired to talk or too nervous to form a coherent sentence. Probably both.
As the exam begins, the only sounds filling the space are the rustling of paper and the scratch of pencils against scantrons. You’re on question 21 when you realize you’ve just marked “C” four times in a row. A bead of cold sweat pricks at your temple, and you read over each question about a hundred times, praying that you’ll catch your mistake. After all, that can’t be right… can it? Your gut says yes. Your overthinking says absolutely not.
An hour later, relief ripples through the room as students zip up their backpacks and shuffle toward the front to turn in their scantrons. You’re right behind them, ready to bolt for the door—until Dr. Rappaccini calls your name.
Pausing mid-step, you turn back to face her, plastering on a polite smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah?”
She digs through her bag before pulling out a worn notebook, its cover littered with colorful tabs and sticky notes. Holding it out to you, she looks as if she couldn’t care less about the transaction.
“I believe your lab partner left this in the laboratory last class.”
Your brows furrow as you take the heavy notebook into your hands, flipping it open with a frown. Lo and behold, there it was—‘Property of Caleb Xia’ scribbled in that god-awful handwriting. Raising an eyebrow, you shake your head. “It’s his, yeah… but why are you giving it to me?”
“He didn’t show up for today’s exam, and I’ve canceled class next Monday,” she explains, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. “Since you work closely with him, I figured you’d see him before I do.”
Now that catches your attention. A sliver—no, a slap—of satisfaction rolls through you. So his sabotage in the lab had already come back to bite him? Karma was fast today. You couldn’t be happier. But unfortunately, the thought of voluntarily interacting with Caleb makes your stomach churn, so you extend the notebook back to your professor without hesitation.
“I assure you, I don’t care to see that man. It’s probably best if you return it to him.”
She glances at her watch, and you can practically see the sweat break out on her forehead. “Oh, I wish I had the time to. I’m running late!”
Gathering her belongings, she makes a beeline for the door. You’re quick to try and follow suit.
Her voice adds a swift, “Ask around! I’m sure someone can help you track him down.”
“But wait! I don’t even—”
The door slams behind Dr. Rappaccini, leaving you frozen in place with Caleb’s stupid notebook clutched to your chest.
“—know what building he lives in.”
You groan, dragging your feet toward the exit, already dreading the idea of having to track down that idiot. In fact, maybe you won’t.
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Tara’s voice cuts through the air, startling you. The flicked lighter in your hand dies out before you can hold it to the bottom of Caleb’s notebook long enough for the flames to catch.
“The damn thing won’t light,” you huff, shaking your head in defeat. “Do you happen to know anyone on campus who has lighter fluid?”
Tara crouches beside you, watching with mild horror as you attempt—and fail—to ignite the corner of the notebook again. “Uh… no, not off the top of my head.” She pauses, tilting her head. “And just to be clear, you’re aware that you’re about to light your notebook on fire, right?”
You shrug. “It’s not mine.”
Her head snaps toward you so fast you worry about whiplash. “Okay, let me rephrase that. You’re aware that you’re about to commit a felony, right?”
You flick the lighter again, giving her a puzzled look. “Please, Tara, I don’t care about felonies right now. This is war, and I need to take my revenge.”
“Revenge?” she echoes, her lips tugging downward like she hadn’t considered that to be your motive. “On the notebook or the owner?”
“On Caleb fucking Xia,” you reply, punctuating each word with another flick of the lighter. Then, finally, a tiny flame flickers to life at the corner of the notebook. A wide grin spreads across your lips. “Yay! I did it! Look, I—”
Tara leans forward, blows out the flame, and snatches the lighter from your grasp. “Are you nuts? You can’t just burn his chem notebook!”
You hum, twisting your lips to the side. “You’re right. I’d totally get caught. Maybe I should pawn it off to a frat guy? Make a quick buck. They’d probably pay good money for his notes.”
“What? No! You can’t burn his notebook because that would mean stooping to his level!”
You reach for the lighter, but she stretches her arm out just far enough that you can’t reach.
“Tara! When they go low, we must go lower.”
“When they go low, we should be the bigger person,” she corrects, patting your head like a disobedient child. “How did you even get it? You didn’t steal it, did you?”
You sigh, shaking your head. “No, I wish. Dr. Rappaccini gave it to me to return to him. Apparently, he left it in the lab.”
Tara tilts her head. “Oh. He didn’t show up for the exam? That’s… unlike him.”
Shrugging, you brush off the singed paper flakes from the bottom of the notebook. “I guess. Can’t say I care, though. It’s what he deserves.”
She scoffs. “Geez, this whole scandal has turned you heartless. The Caleb I know would rather eat glass than miss an exam, especially the first one of the semester. I hope he’s alright.”
“In that case, maybe you should be the one to return it to him,” you suggest, holding it out. “You seem to know where he lives, and you actually care if he’s alive. That’s already two steps in the right direction.”
Tara glances at her phone, then sucks on her teeth before flashing you a wry smile. “Oh, shoot! I can’t. I have my physics exam in four minutes.” Before you can argue, she’s already bolting toward her class. “Uh, I think he’s close with Zayne! The one from our bio class!”
You toss your hands up. “Why the hell am I being sent on a manhunt?” Patting your pockets, you realize something’s missing. “Hey! You took my lighter.”
“It’s for the better!” she calls over her shoulder.
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
After a deep dive through Canvas, a trip to Outlook to send Zayne a rather frantic email, and a very long walk across campus, you find yourself stalking through the halls of an unfamiliar dorm building.
Your eyes flick up from your phone every few steps, scanning the numbers on the doors to make sure you haven’t somehow wandered into oblivion. It’s been ten minutes—too long, in your opinion—and you’re beginning to feel like a headless zombie, doomed to wander these halls forever.
That is, until your eyes land on a familiar set of numbers.
Room 323.
Exhaling sharply, you raise your fist and knock three times against the door. The response is almost immediate—an audible thud, followed by an impressive string of curses.
Then, the door swings open, revealing a very panicked and very shirtless Caleb.
And you? Your brain short-circuits.
For a second—just one—you can’t help it. Your gaze drops straight to his torso, where sharp lines of muscle carve into his biceps and abdomen like a damn Michelangelo sculpture. You’re almost positive those weren’t there yesterday. Scratch that. You’re absolutely positive they weren’t.
And you would have noticed. You’re nothing if not boundlessly observant. After all, you’re just a girl. You would have noticed if your infuriating classmate had nice biceps that would have certainly softened the blow of his sudden betrayal in the lab yesterday.
Pretty privilege is alive and well, you can’t help but think.
Caleb, looking equally flustered, yanks the door halfway shut, reducing the view to just his face. His chest still heaves from whatever chaos had preceded your arrival.
“I, uh… um.” He blinks, clearly rebooting his internal system. His brain fries, and of course the first thing he can do is lean his elbow against the door frame while not-so-obviously flexing his much larger bicep in the process. “So… what’s up?”
Dragging your gaze up to meet his with only minor difficulty, you hold up the slightly charred notebook in your hands. “You left this in class. Rappaccini told me to bring it to you.”
Caleb reaches for it, and the moment his fingers graze the cover, his brows furrow. He flips it over, rubbing his thumb against the edge. A smudge of soot stains his hand.
“What… happened to it?”
You lift your shoulders, hands flying up in a gesture of pure innocence. “No clue. Your guess is as good as mine.”
Before he can properly assess the obvious fire damage, you straighten your posture. If you beat him to it, there’s a good chance that you’ll be able to walk away from this entire ordeal scot free.
Just… be civil. You can do that much.
“Are you not going to say thank you? I literally had to email your roommate to find out where you live. It was a total inconvenience.”
Or not.
Caleb presses his lips into a thin line, tossing the notebook onto his desk before giving you a barely-there nod. “Right. Thanks.”
His clipped tone does nothing to soothe your irritation. You’re actually starting to regret not letting the damn thing go up in flames. If it weren’t for Tara and her obnoxious morality complex, you would have.
“You’re welcome,” you say sweetly, pivoting to leave. But just before he can close the door, something crosses your mind. “Oh! By the way, I wrote my number in the margin.”
Caleb’s eyes widen. His grip on the door frame tightens. “What? For me?”
A beat of silence. Then, you burst into laughter, and the fact that he isn’t laughing with you makes it ten times funnier. You have to physically wipe the tears from your eyes before you can speak again.
“Oh, you’re serious?” you wheeze, still catching your breath. “God, no. It’s for Zayne.”
“For… Zayne?”
You nod. “Yup. I have biology with him.”
Caleb leans back slightly, like you’ve just personally offended his ancestors. “And? You have chem with me.”
You flash him an expression that Caleb can only assume is the most passive-aggressive smile known to mankind. “Mm-hmm. Well, maybe I want to get in kahoots with people who don’t sabotage my lab reports.”
Ouch. Caleb rubs the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “About that…”
“Save it,” you hum, turning to leave. “Just be a doll and relay the message, yeah?”
But just before you step away, your eyes flicker to his chest again—this time, with an exaggerated furrow of concern. “Wait a sec… what the hell is that? You should really get that nasty mole checked out.”
Caleb’s brows knit together. He instinctively glances down—
And just as his chin tilts, your hand smacks against it, forcing it back up. Your laughter is louder this time. Almost cruel.
“Too easy, this game,” you taunt, shaking your head.
You’re gone before he can do anything other than stand there, jaw slack, ears burning a shade of red that rivals a fire hydrant. How could you prank him with the easiest trick in the book? He rubs his chin, shaking his head in utter defeat as he nudges his door shut.
Yeah. He doesn’t like you one bit.
Before he can dwell on that fact, his phone buzzes in his pocket.
xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): i woke up late and missed physics. can U slide me the notes for the past week? i also slept through those days too… btw Ur still coming to the frat car wash next saturday right ?? we need U bro. U brought in so many new customers
caleb: sure man :)
xavier (pres of lambda chi alpha): the goat
♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎
Sirens blare loud enough to wake you, their wailing cries bouncing off the buildings outside your window. The flashing of red and blue does little to ease your nerves—if anything, it invites the perfect storm of overthinking.
Your room is a mess. You haven’t eaten a balanced meal in days. A biology project is due next week. But above all? Midterms are rapidly approaching.
Lately, most of your days are spent holed up on the second floor of the library, tucked away in your usual corner seat. From there, you can people-watch from above and soak in just enough sunlight to keep from feeling like life is draining from you with each word you scribble down or type up. But after a while, even the comfort of routine turns into a cage.
It’s monotonous. Tiring. Far too predictable for your liking. If you don’t see at least one interesting thing each day—whether it’s someone walking their adorable dog or a person wearing a sweater so blindingly neon it makes your eyes hurt—you consider the day a waste. You still study, of course, but you need something of substance to fuel your brain. Something besides your bitter iced coffee, which barely manages to keep you conscious.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion of your second midterm season settling into your bones. Maybe it’s the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Whatever it is, it drives you to seek out a new place to study.
Is it 4 AM? Yes. Are the sirens especially loud tonight? Also yes. You can’t sleep. Sue you.
It makes perfect sense why you find yourself trudging into your university’s 24-hour café, headphones snug over your ears and meal card already in hand. Fuzzy pajama pants and an oversized hoodie hang off your frame, but if the cashier doesn’t care, neither do you. You’d be damned if you didn’t at least get your usual morning drink and a slice of banana bread to kickstart your day.
No more than an hour passes before the faint jingle of the entrance bell rings to life, prompting you to spare a glance over your shoulder, curiosity piqued.
Luck isn’t on your side. Of course it’s Caleb.
And he looks… different. Not in the way he did a few days ago—no, he looks worn. Tired. A bruise blooms across his cheek, stark even in the café’s dim lighting. You force yourself to look away before you can start ogling like a freak. Again.
But as he makes his way in your direction, you barely suppress a groan, turning back toward your laptop in a last-ditch effort to seem busy. It doesn’t work. Not when you feel the weight of his beady little amethyst stare boring into the back of your head.
You sigh, forcing a cheery tone. “Can you maybe not stand next to me looking like a decaying corpse? You’re going to attract flies.”
Caleb shrugs, managing to pick an almond off your banana bread before you slap his hand away. “You’re doing that on your own. Didn’t you hear? This café was infested with fruit flies last semester. Your perfume is basically a mating call for ‘em.”
You huff, tilting your head. “Aw. Is that your way of saying I smell nice?”
Rolling his eyes, Caleb crosses his arms over his chest. You notice a small cut on his bicep, but you do your best not to stare. You've done enough of that lately.
“No,” he flatly says. “I’m just… stating my observation.”
You turn back to your laptop, sliding your headphones over your ears. “Well, stop observing me.”
”Psh. Gladly.”
His actions are the first thing to betray his words, because he makes the executive decision to sit in the chair directly behind yours. He was sitting so damn close that you could feel the warmth of his skin through his hoodie—which you now notice is thrashed in a few places, as if he had taken scissors to the fabric and snipped away. It was odd, but you managed to look away as he shifted around to fish his own laptop out of his backpack.
Then, before you can finish typing the sentence you’d been working on before he walked in, he beats you to it. Obnoxiously so. His fingers slam against his keyboard with such force you briefly wonder if an elephant from the Linkon City Zoo has escaped and taken up tap dancing behind you.
Your teeth clench. “Can you stop typing so damn loud?”
“Oh, I’m not the loud one here.”
You glance over your shoulder, finding that he was already looking at you, “And that means what exactly?”
“It means that I could probably hear your music if I was three miles away.” With his new heightened senses, that was hardly an exaggeration. He gave you an all-too-charming smile. “Turn it down a few levels, yeah? Thanks.”
The lilt to his voice made you want to set him straight in more ways than one. “You little—”
“New Magic Wand by Tyler, The Creator at 4 AM is crazy work, by the way.”
“Boy, I’ll show you crazy—”
Suddenly, a chipper voice rings through the air. Much to your surprise, it called out your name.
Tara strides in as if you all aren’t up at the crack of dawn, looking incredibly enthusiastic about life, much like she always did. You wish you could inherit whatever will she has to live.
“Hey!” she greets with a wave. She plops down beside you, turning around in her seat so that she could face both you and Caleb at the same time. “Funny seeing you guys here. Are you talking about the fundraiser?”
You blink. “Huh?”
“Why would we be talking about the fundraiser?” he can’t help but question.
“Well,” Tara sings, “my girl here is going to be helping out Delta Gamma with the sorority wash! And you’re going to be helping out Lambda Chi Alpha again this year, right?”
Caleb is almost positive that his heart has just dropped to his ass.
He looks between you and Tara. “What? She can’t come.”
You let out a short, annoyed breath. “And why can’t I?”
And he knows he sounds like a petulant child when he mutters, “It’s my thing.”
“Aw,” you coo, tilting your head with a forced pout. “Is it your thing? Womp womp.”
Caleb rolls his eyes, but you don’t care to see it as you lean toward Tara, lowering your voice as if you were telling her top secret information. “Why didn’t you tell me he would be there?”
“Because if I had, you would have totally refused,” she says matter-of-factly. “And we need you! We can’t let the guys bring in more revenue than us this semester, they held it over our heads for, like… months last time! Plus, I need you to combat him. I swear, he brought in more customers than anyone ever has, it’s no wonder Xavier begged him to do it again.”
You blink. “Are you serious?”
Tara nods.
You can’t help but rub your chin. “I’m surprised anyone paid him for that.”
Caleb glances between the two of you. “I’m sitting right here.”
You glance his way. “We know.”
He lets out a harsh breath. “Look. If you don’t want to see me there, don’t come. Real easy fix.”
You tilt your head, raising a brow. “Why do I have to be the one to cancel? Why can’t you just skip it? You already had your fun last year playing chick magnet or… whatever.”
“I can’t. I already made a commitment.”
“Well, so did I.”
“Perfect!” Tara beams, clasping her hands together. “I’ll see you both there then. This is gonna be sooo much fun, guys! You can probably even get over the little feud you have going on, I swear, it’ll be…”
Caleb can’t even hear the rest of whatever Tara was saying. His mind is too busy short-circuiting over this very dreadful realization.
You’ll be there.
In a bikini top.
Covered in soap suds.
Trying to pass him up yet again.
This was going to be a damn nightmare.
series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!
a/n consider liking, commenting, or rb if you enjoyed :) i’m sorry this update took so long </3 i got so swamped with my uni work and wasn’t entirely satisfied with the chapter sooo i pushed it off.
i know that this is lowkey a slow start with really short chapters and there isn’t much spider-man stuff going on rn but… trust me guys. just trust me.
also ofc there’s a xavier cameo bc that’s my man soooo i had to include him somehow, even if he’s just a sleepy frat boy
edit: if you don’t know what a frat/sorority wash is just look them up on tiktok LMAO, it’s usually shirtless frat guys and sorority girls in bikini tops who wash cars to raise money for their foundations. it’s just a silly college tradition idk 😭
taglist. (join it by commenting under this post!)
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If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.
Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:
Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.
You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.
When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.
A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)
Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)
The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.
Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.
Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.
Oujo sama...
some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs
* body language masterlist
* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does
* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes
* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said
* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again
* some more body language help
(hope this helps some ppl)
“but AI art lets me create my OCs!” YOU WILL USE PICREW AS GOD INTENDED
when fleabag said, “with all the love i have for her. i don’t know where to put it now.” and when anne carson wrote, “you remember too much, / my mother said to me recently. / why hold onto all that? and i said, / where can i put it down?” and when mitski sang, “i don’t know what to do without you / i don’t know where to put my hands” and when donnie smith in magnolia (1999) cried, “i really do have love to give! i just don’t know where to put it!” and when emily dickinson once wrote, “we outgrow love, like other things / and put it in the drawer —”
Pinewood Puppy by Sweet Softies
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Round Plush Bat by Janet Carrillo
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Snowman by Elisa Sartori
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Penguin cute by Lim lenn
Free Crochet Pattern Here (May need to make an account)
Little Bird Amigurumi by Raffaella Tassoni
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Bongo Cat Amigurumi by Gabriela Krasteva
Free Crochet Pattern Here *** Video Pattern Only ***
Easter Bunny by Claudia Capriotti
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Snake Plushie by Susanna Berra
Free Crochet Pattern Here (May need to make an account)
Toy bunny by Christina Yarema
Free Crochet Pattern Here (May need to make an account)
Pig by Kylie Slee
Free Crochet Pattern Here *** Video Pattern Only ***
Candy Corn Dinosaurs by Nicole Chase
Free Crochet Pattern Here
Checkerboard Square Blanket by Erangi Udeshika
Free Crochet Pattern Here
I’ve crafted yet another frog! I present to you: Paul the frog!✨
If you’re interested in making one yourself, you can find the pattern here. It’s not mine, but I’m glad I used it.
I made the pattern for the vest myself, so that was a fun experience ( ^ω^ )
Paul the frog on Etsy | My shop KirbysPixiecraft | Commission info | Crochet learning masterlist
Amigurumi Little Bunny crochet pattern 💕
Free pattern here
PDF pattern on Etsy
Ravelry
Pin it to Pinterest
Amigurumi Kiki crochet pattern 💕
Free pattern here
PDF crochet pattern on Etsy
Ravelry
Pin it to Pinterest
My Favourite Free Amigurumi Pattern Creators for Beginners - Part 1
When I've only started crocheting amigurumis, it was a challenge. I've tried it before, 10+ years ago back at school, but it was never close to success. So summer 2022 I've decided that I'll try again and was glad that there are so many talented people creating patterns! Starting fresh I've been choosing free patterns at first, to build confidence and get familiar with all the abbreviations and techniques, as I wasn't still sure if it would be a good investment. Heck I would be even more frustrated if I couldn't figure out the pattern that was paid for tbh ... So I'm very grateful to people sharing their tutorials and free patterns, as they really helped me to get into crocheting! Here are some of them! Part 1
Molang Amigurumi Pattern
The pattern is written below and is also available as a PDF on Ravelry.
Check out my other patterns on Ravelry and Etsy.
Keep reading
Junimo Amigurumi Pattern
Check out my other patterns on Ravelry and Etsy.
Pattern is written below and is also available as a PDF on Ravelry.
Keep reading
MAPPA YOU WERE SO WRONG FOR THIS
Adam and Eve? More like
so thats why it's called the rainbow room...
when hayao miyazaki said that true love was two people inspiring each other to live…recognizing just how hard living is, putting one foot in front of the other every day, how easy it is to lose our passion for it…… that’s the real shit
“Many of my movies have strong female leads - brave, self-sufficient girls that don’t think twice about fighting for what they believe in with all their heart. They’ll need a friend, or a supporter, but never a saviour. Any woman is just as capable of being a hero as any man.” -Hayao Miyazaki
Happy International Women’s Day!