#i had to change the yarn i was using AND get a circular needle but now i have this under control

[betty-burnout]

This looks kinda like a stupid little hat right now (wish I had a cat so I could plop it on its head) but that's only partially because I'm using a tiny circular needle instead of trying to wrangle 4 dpns in a straightish line. This is a very "trust the process" pattern for me rn

Zimtstirm mitts by Knitting and so on on Blogspot

[jemmo]

Hi! I want to finally try my hand at knitting and was wondering if you had any recs in terms of tools, material, beginner patterns to try etc. I really like some of the knit work you do so thanks for unknowingly being a push towards this interest!

🥹🥹 thank you so much anon, im so glad that you wanna try out knitting!! and that i was an encouragement omg i feel so honoured. my secret agenda is to make as many people as possible knit and finally i have one!!!

(this will be a read more bc I started ranting sorry 😭😭 i can’t be changed)

anyway, a lot of what i’d recommend looking back at when i started compared to now and what i wish i’d done differently, is definitely, before you start buying anything, look at a bunch and bunch of knitted items, pintrest is great for this, but also check out individual creators on instagram, they make for great inspiration and are a great source for finding patterns if you’re willing to pay (which unfortunately… i would also recommend, but I’ll get onto that), and figure out what you’re favourite style of knitting is. what kind of items do you want to make?? what kind look do you like, chunky knits, fine knits, interesting stitches, lace designs, cables etc?? what kind of yarns do you like the look and feel of, soft cottons or fuzzy alpaca or warm wool??? gauging these things will really help inform what you invest money on early bc it’s what you’ll be doing most before you invest on branching out. for example, I went with very normal staples bc i gravitate towards things that are very classic, not too fine knit or chunky, and usually medium weight wool, so my first purchases were three different lengths of circular 5mm needles, some worsted superwash wool yarn, and some stitch markers.

so getting into that, it’s pretty simple. you prefer fine looking knits?? buy smaller needles. you prefer chunky knits?? buy bigger needles. it might look like chunky knits are easier than fine knits, but I find that difficulty depends on the stitches and pattern, not the yarn. thinner yarn just means garments take longer to make, but it’s worth it if you prefer the look. but if you do find it hard to work on small things and think manipulating smaller loops and needles would be difficult, I’d say the best standard to start with would be 4mm or 5mm, that’s what I use to make most of my stuff. and above all, buy circular needles. whether you like working flat pieces and sewing them together or working into the round seemlessly is something you have to figure out as you go, but you can do both with circular needles while you can’t work in the round with straight needles, plus circular needles hold more stitches for bigger projects, the only downside is you have to buy needles with various length cords attaching them to use on different circumferences ie the body vs the sleeves.

as for yarn, again it’s preference for feel and style. if you want to make warm winter jumpers, get wool, and if you like making light summer tops, get cotton. there’s lots of other choices out there, i just think these are the two staples. you can also hold wool with a strand of alpaca but I wouldn’t suggest that for a first project. of course, there is also acrylic, but I prefer to use this in crochet and for things that aren’t garments, mostly bc it doesn’t have a lot of drape and is kind of rigid for clothes, and I also don’t like the feel, but of course it’s cheaper, so depending on how much you’re willing to spend, there are some good quality acrylics out there. but there’s also some good cheap wools, look for drops yarn, they have great size and colour range.

and for other bits to have, i’d suggest some circular stitch markers (if you’re working in the round), a pair of scissors, and a darning needle for sewing in ends.

as for patterns, i would really suggest using patterns you have to buy. it seems silly when there’s some free patterns, but I find they’re generally better written and come with a lot of good instruction for first timers, especially videos showing steps (petitknit and darlingjadore are very good in this respect). and bought patterns are very versatile once you get used to knitting. one of my favourite things to do and the best way to branch out in knitting is to adapt patterns you’ve already used, for example adding colour changes or intarsia patterns or changing the sleeve length or the ribbing style, there’s endless things you can do to make the same pattern into different garments entirely, so it’s a worthwhile investment.

and for what to make, again it entirely depends on what you gravitate towards. im a true believer that there is no definitive beginner project, bc knitting is very much about learning as you go, so what you want to start with is more about how much you wanna learn in one go, do you want to take it one step at a time or throw yourself in. my first project was a jumper, a raglan style knit seemlessly in the round with some extra bits thrown on top like a folded collar and German short rows for shaping, which sounds like a lot, but throwing myself at the deep end meant i familiarised myself with a lot very fast, which set me on a good path. yes, i did make mistakes, and ended up undoing the entire thing later to reuse the wool to make something else I’d wear more, but again that’s the beauty of knitting, you’re never wasting anything by trying bc you can just undo it all and start from scratch again. but saying that, real beginner projects are usually scarfs bc it’s just a rectangle and you don’t need to know any fancy techniques, just cast on, knit a bunch in stockinette, cast off, boom scarf. but i also think a vest or even a jumper is a good beginner pattern, depending on its design. vests are good bc it uses less yarn so it’s a smaller investment, plus you don’t have to content with sleeves and bc of that they’re worked up quicker. you will have to probably learn some stitches for shaping like german short rows and m1l and m1r increases, but again there’s a bunch of videos out there and it’s better to learn it and have it in your tool belt then. I also think raglan jumpers are a great starting point, especially that start with a seamless collar bc you don’t have any parts that require picking up stitches, it’s all seamless and at the end of it you get a great garment. that’s another thing i’ll say, don’t just do a project bc it’s for beginners if you don’t actually like it. it’s much better to try and make something you actually like instead of something easy that you’ll never wear or use. of the things I’ve made, petitknit is always my go to, and both the novice slip-over and the stockholm slip-over v-neck are great vests depending on whether you prefer a round or v-neck. my beginner jumper pattern was the weekend sweater by darlingjadore, but also check out easyasknit who have a whole slew of patterns designed to be easy, simple basics.

i hope this wasn’t too long or ranty but I just adore knitting, it’s just part of me at this point and I love introducing people to it. so if you have any more questions, want anything explained from sizing to gauge to terminology, or just want some more recommendations pls hit me up and I will talk your head off. and finally, good look!!! ✨

[madebymaryssa]

[thread of tweets]

Elizabeth Minkel: Imagine having such a fundamental misunderstanding of the appeal of reading fanfiction - let alone reading fiction more broadly. [melting face emoji]

[embedded article stub, uncredited]

The three largest fanfic sites - AO3, Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad - get 3B+ annual visits in the U.S. alone.

They're in the top 100 sites in the U.S., and AO3 is #100 globally.

Imagine how much bigger this market could be if you could chat with characters vs. reading static stories?

[two embedded tables, side by side]

[Left-side table shows the total number of visits to the sites in question from US-based servers between April 2022 and April 2023; 2.325 billion for AO3, 643.7 million for FFnet, and 400.3 million for Wattpad.]

[Right-side table shows the 'rank' of each of these sites for the same region over the same period of time. AO3 is ranked the 57th most visited website, FFnet is 206th, and Wattpad is 297th.]

[/end embedded article stub]

Veronica Schanoes: "What if, instead of reading a story, you could replicate the experience of trying to get customer service on amazon by communicating with a chatbot?"

Elizabeth Minkel: [three crying emojis]

Gavia Baker-Whitelaw: what is UP with this subset of AI Guys who are convinced that VR self-inserts are the ultimate goal of all media.

Elizabeth Minkel: Lololol, VR Guys of all genders, cut this lady's name out because I was too annoyed. I mean hey, maybe this works better for y/n stuff! Or porn of other sorts??

Ailea - GET queer&cripped: ...i had a visceral negative reaction to the idea of chatting with characters instead of reading stories

Elizabeth Minkel: Same! Part of why I find reader-insert fics really interesting in a super alien way. It's just so disconnected from what I want out of a fannish experience.

thewillowbends: Ao3 will need to answer some really big questions soon about how they're protecting people's work because this will drive people off large platforms into smaller communities again. We're all agreeing to not being paid because it's all copyrighted. If that changes, well...

Kayla Ancrum [sparkle emoji]is on a DEADLINE[sparkle emoji]: Silicon Valley dingdongs misunderstand fanfiction's financial potential EVERY TIME because they don't really get that it's like knitting.

The commercial knitwear industry exists, yes, but home knitters knit for the love of knitting. They're doing it That Way on purpose.

They think fanfiction is a "disruptable" industry, ripe for capital harvesting, but it's not. It's a collection of hobbyists.

Anything the community accepts and integrates is in service of the craft, like yarn innovations or circular needles. Wattpad is a circular needle.

AO3 is a circular needle. Fic commissions (illegal though they may be) are a circular needle and optimizing that draws attention to it in a way that would eradicate it immediately.

Hobbyists don't want a giant knitwear factory in their livingroom, they barely want Rib Machines.

People aren't logging in to read 100 generic interactions of a couple (ex: what AI fanfic promises) they're searching for hyper specific elements of human desire

Fanfiction is an emotional artistic response to preexisting media. Like the echo of a shout that grows in complexity.

Human desire is so very multifaceted and the things we may hyperfocus on for emotion digestion are wholly unique.

This is the sort of thing you can't optimize or manufacture. It is an artisanal experience, every bit of it.

A hobbyist craft: archiveofourown.org/works/38547636

Fan fiction isn't a quantity situation it's a quality situation. The only thing fanfic writers want is more comments written by humans that care, and more time to write fanfiction.

and the only thing fanfic readers want is more quality fan fiction that serves their niche*...

-more organized ways to access that fanfiction and ways to save fan fictions so they can come back to them years later.

And *serves their niche* is such an important element of this that people not involved in the hobby can't really conceptualize.

And even when people do use rib/interlock/circle machines (example below), it's a similar repetitive manual process, meditative in nature.

Telling this woman you can "optimize" her hobby by printing out a knit piece is not going to go anywhere. She wants to crank the circle!

[embedded TikTok video, credited to the.wandering.gemini]

It's just so obvious that they think fan fiction is just "Books that aren't good enough to be published yet by people not creative enough to make up their own worlds."

When it's more like, canon media is a prize pig, and fan fiction is carnitas tacos with rice and beans.

Adding this because it's relevant and concise:

[embedded screenshot of another thread, or a different branch of this one]

Ruth: "chat with characters" is that not just rps? Do they not know that already exists? It's a whole different thing and doesn't need reinventing bc (among other reasons) it ALREADY EXISTS

Kayla Ancrum [sparkle emoji]is on a DEADLINE[sparkle emoji]: People don't want to chat with a robot pretending to be a character, they want to chat with their equally unhinged friends pretending to be characters! RP is art but it's also a bonding ritual!

[/end embedded screenshot]

Also that fic I attached is extremely chaotic and vaguely explicit, for a deeply niche fandom and a pairing. Has an off the wall exploration of sexuality and completely bonkers interpretation of violence.

[/end thread]

[marionrav]

Vintage knitting patterns

Let’s use two vintage knitting patterns to discuss how a modern (or of the era knitter) might look at them.

First off, let’s look at a dressing jacket.  This is something that might also be called a bed jacket.  Most patterns have them tied shut with ribbons, but covalescent / male versions sometimes had buttons on the shoulder, and a shortened back (so the sweater wouldn’t catch under the body, or overheat the bits of you that were warm from the covers.

Here’s the Ravelry link for this jacket, and the actual pattern on Trove.  The needle size is an interesting thing since you have no way of knowing if you’re talking UK needle sizes, millimeter sizes, or US sizes save by the origin of the pattern, the era, and the yarn.  In baby weight yarn, this will come out to a generous 52″ chest with no waist shaping on US 3 needles (less about 2″ if you put in buttons along the front band instead of ribbon.)  Since it’s garter stitch, it will stretch in length and in size easily, so the original size would be quite forgiving.

40″ in this time period was often a plus size, or a “matron” size.  In 30′s to 40′s patterns, a matron was someone who was married and had children, versus a college aged student or an older teen.  34 to 36″ was a “generic” woman’s size, and a 38″ chest was a common man’s size.  While clothing sizes aren’t particularly useful, a size 4 to 8 would be your generic, and a 12 would be your matron.

Now, before you say that this is the Depression and you’re dealing with starving skinny people, bear in mind that you’re coming out of the 20′s, and a lot of fashionable women are still wearing corsets in some manner and low flattening bust support.  This would draw your shoulders back (changing how your sleeves fit, and the resulting width of them) and reduce your bust measurement.

A 1950′s sweater, in comparison, would be sized for the pointy bust support that you would see in that era, and a 1940′s man’s sweater will often end “high” compared to what you might expect.  This is due to high waistlines on trousers, and yarn shortages leading to reduced sizing.   A good example of this would be these make do and mend socks made by Retro Claude.  Note the very short height of the socks.  While they use very little yarn, and allow you to use scraps, they’re also clearly designed to be the minimum height possible.

Moving past sizing and design concerns, one simple sign that this is a vintage pattern is that it’s designed to be a seamed garment.  Double pointed needles and circular needles were not usually used in garment knitting in the 30′s, so you often knit things in pieces and then seam them together.  A seamed garment does gain some structure and strength from seams, and it’s a lot easier to steam / press a flat shape rather than a tube.

There’s also some out of the ordinary knitting terminology with using “Wool forward” or “make one” instead of yarn over, and one immediately obvious probable typo (you knit 10 stitches to make the front band, but the purl row on row 4 does not mention avoiding purling in the front band.)

Swapping over to a man’s pattern, here’s the Ravelry link to a man’s vest.  Here’s the original pattern from Trove.  Sizing wise, this is fairly close to the actual chest size it says it should be in the original gauge.  Vests are often knitted at 1 - 2″ smaller than the listed chest size to provide some trim smooth lines under a jacket and to not stretch to fit poorly over the shoulders.  The back pattern piece makes it clear that the diagonal ribbing is a sort of two stitch wide ribbing knit in an angled V pointed at the center, so you would get some pulling in and smoothness from the ribbing wanting to contract, but not as much as if it was simple vertical ribbing.

When I first looked at the pattern, I was baffled.  It starts with casting on two stitches, then you knit in the back of the cast on while you twist your stitches (this tightens your cast on to make your stitches appear more even and smooth.)  Then the next row says you cast on two more, then knit two stitches and purl two stitches.

It took an embarassingly long time to realize they meant you cast on stitches on the left needle (resulting in four stitches,) and then continue to knit those two new stitches and your two older stitches in the pattern.

As a fun game for new knitters, the pattern also assumes that by row 12 you can read the stitch pattern, and you know where to put your knits and purls to continue it, even when increasing the number of added stitches per row.  (The pattern, mind you, is simply moving one stitch over every other row, but I could not have discovered that without seeing the actual pattern in the yarn.)

There is some shaping in this garment, so you’d be advised to check your gauge against the stitch count before the armhole, the one at the button band (since that would be roughly a waist measurement, but remember to subtract the size of the buttonband once to account for the overlap) and the same for the back at the cast on and the armholes.

[almondharry]

you look so good: four

you look so good — [10.1k]

She should’ve stayed at the library.

She should’ve gone home.

She should’ve gone to a coffee shop.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” His eyes did not part from the novel cracked open in front of him. His nose wiggled when he found a particular line amusing. An awkward beat passed and Genevieve was at a loss of words. “Have you become a statue? Do I need to unfreeze you?”

She should’ve gone anywhere, but here.

Part Four: The Markov Theorem

The Markov Theorem

November 3, 2016

“You’re staring.” Genevieve noticed without looking up. A pen pressed tightly to paper, runny swirls of leaky blue ink stained the page.

Her neck was stiff, like age old wood, bent like an archer’s bow. The only time she blinked was to copy a specific formula needed from her textbook—situated strategically to her right. Her iced coffee had condensation lined around the plastic to-go cup, the beads came together to pool in a ring on the library table. She was running late and skipped on grabbing a napkin. It was full to the brim, not a sip had been taken. Time slipped through her fingers like playground sand. The answers were due at the beginning of her next lab, t minus twenty minutes. The clicking of calculator keys was the loudest sound in the room, apart from the coughing radiator.

He looked on in slight terror, but mostly amusement, at the rate her pen skimmed over her notepad. He found it a bit odd that she preferred to use grid lined paper than regular. He remembers her starting at the top left corner of the page, he had turned around for a minute to plug the thick cord of his laptop charger into an outlet, and when he turned back she was already past the middle.

Futile attempts were made to decode the numbers and letters scribbled in her path. The page resembled a bowl of alphabet soup, letters and numbers swimming together. He gave up all too soon when he felt the beginnings of a headache. The only thing he took away is that she looped her two’s.

Her penmanship captured an urgency. The once pin straight numbers became more and more italicized, as if they sprinted to chase a bus that slowly drove away. His line of sight started from the tip of her pen to the escaped wiry strands of hair from her ponytail, and lastly, to the hold her teeth had on her bottom lip. A skittish frenzy bounced in her eyes behind the square frames. An impression of a mad scientist, he thought. They rest on the apple of her cheeks and slide down the bridge of her nose at a sloth’s pace.

“Crazy,” he said after observing her for another second. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile quirked at the end of his lips. “Absolutely insane.”

“A bit looney,” she hummed. Her lips pursed and they both knew it was a poor effort to hide a grin.

“Little obsessive.”

“Quite dull.”

“Completely mad.”

“Oh, most definitely mad,” Genevieve settled. Her pen paused its dance and her hand reached to push her frames up to finally look across. He was already staring at her, his grin widened to a size that can span out acres worth of empty land.

It was something they did, a harmless game of bickering adjectives that goes back and forth between them like an intense ping pong match. It was a childish way of name calling and poking fun. Their legs were a comfortably tangled mess, hidden by the smooth wooden desk, but his knee would knock against her shin every once in a while.

Genevieve sighed, “Now, are we done discussing your outstanding qualities or—”

“—Remarkably clumsy,” He added on abruptly. Genevieve knew he preferred to get the last word in.

She paused. “—Oh, you’ve still got a few then.”

“No,” he laughed through his nose, the corner of his lips twitched like he knew something she didn’t. His eyes squinted and gleamed like a reflection does in a fresh puddle after rain.

“Then?”

“There’s…” Genevieve heard blinds being tampered with across the room, soon something is sliding against a metal rod. A flash of yellow is thrown at them like a bucket of splattered paint. His pupils slowly dilated to accommodate the sudden change of lighting, and Genevive decided then that she would want to see that happen once more. Tiny dust particles floated up and waltzed together as their skin warms. His index finger gestures towards his face. “You’ve… nevermind.”

He dismissed with a quick wave when her brows curled inwards in soft curves.

Genevieve gave him a look, wary and doubting.

Their table was pressed up against a wall. It had a bookshelf that once was seeded at ground level, but now has branched out and up the ceiling, only stopping once the plaster slopes into a curved, dome-like ceiling.

He busied himself by trailing the tips of his digits over worn out spines. Genevieve watched his lips part to gently mouth words. He silently recited a title of interest to himself under his breath. His pointer finger curled into a pirate’s hook and attaches itself to pull a hardcover from its slumber.

He kept a list of unread books he planned to read, she pondered if this one would make it.

There was a way—a careful cradle, a light touch— that came so easily to him when he held a book between his fingers. It was as natural as sunlight and brought a distinct warmth to her bones. He regarded every page with a keen consideration, a dip sat between his brows from his concentrated frown. But it was after some flipping that the pad of his finger hovered over a particular sentence. Genevieve wondered if the same arrangement of words were to be on her skin, would he touch her with the same tenderness.

That’s when something shifted for Genevieve, a twig snaps. The air, once crisp, goes stale and dormant. The tip of her tongue stung and she tasted copper behind her clenched teeth.

She doesn’t know how to define this variable. It’s part mixture of guilt and shame that pricks her spine. Her brain feels like a ball of yarn, tangled. She tried to unravel the string in hopes to understand where this is coming from. How could she reach such an irrational conclusion? She looked across the table one last time, to remind herself that the statistical probability remains zero.

She pressed her lips together and stood up from her seat, it’s wooden legs screech against the floor. “I’ve got to go.”

She tucked her notebook, pen, and calculator in her bag. She almost lost the grip on the calculator slider. Her hands, shifty and restless, trembled from wound up nerves. The strap of her bag sunk into her shoulder. She hadn’t taken more than three steps away from the table before another set of wooden legs sounded.

“Wait,” he called out.

Genevieve glanced to her wrist, the second hand slowly crawling towards the twelfth digit.

“Yeah?” She turned around, eyes still on her wrist watch, an inquisitive pinch between brows.“Gotta be quick or else I’ll be late”

“You’re…” His strides made up for the lost distance. She was hyper aware of the heat his body brings forth. “Come here.”

It was a gravitational pull, she neared him like waves hit the shore. With half a step, she is the closest to him she will ever get. Genevieve inhaled a strong scent of pine needles. It mixed with lingering whiskey and mouthwash. She takes whatever she can with him.

“Hold still,” he instructed tentatively.

Her head angled up, a strain knotted at the back of her neck. But all sense of unease evaporates when he raised his hand and cupped her jaw. A careful cradle, a light touch.

Genevieve doesn’t move—she can’t move. Her arms and legs were dead weight. The neurons attached to her face where his skin meets hers are flamed. Everything was in overdrive, her heightened awareness only furthered this torture. She watched his gaze zeroed in on her parted lips. A focused and determined stare locked on to the bottom half of her profile.

His thumb, previously settled on her cheek, teetered towards the corner of her mouth. The tension was like pulling both ends of an elastic band. The rubber stretched at a snail’s pace. The tension grew, the band thinned.

Tiny ridges in the skin of his thumb were felt as he pressed it down on her bottom lip. He gradually dragged it from one corner to the center, each second felt like an hour. Her lip wobbled with the pressure.

“There,” he said easily.

The elastic snapped.

He removed his hand from her. The pad of his thumb is coloured a deep blue like he had given his fingerprint for a passport. Genevieve’s eyes widened and her fingers immediately touch her mouth, trying to press the feeling there forever. Her lip, caged behind teeth, tasted bitter like a potent chemical—residual ink. “All good.”

Good. Good. Good.

He stepped back and her lungs take in a breath through her nose. It was much easier to breathe when he stood in his respective bubble and didn’t steal her oxygen. Or sanity.

The reality was, if he asked for either, she would present it on a golden platter.

***

November 8, 2019

The fourth floor of the library was something else really. In the corner, a girl sobbed as she clutched the grade of her failed midterm. Another girl stared off into space for more than twenty minutes, going through an existential crisis of some sorts. A boy opened his textbook to do a question then shut it promptly two minutes later, only to open his laptop to change his major. It was a help centre for math related inquiries. Computers lined in two neat rows and a couple circular tables were occupied with graduate students tutoring students with appointments and the occasional walk-ins.

A student slowly dragged their feet on the carpet walking towards the front desk. Their eyes glazed over in a zombie like fashion; the coffee mug in hand and eye bags were this season’s hottest look.

“Hi.” Genevieve smiled. “What can I do for you?”

The first year girl wore a hoodie a size too big for her. “I need to book a study room for my group. Is there any available?”

“One minute.” Genevieve spun, the wheels on the chair pulled towards the administrative computer. Trained fingers typed their login and password, before a scheduled calendar popped up. “How many people are you looking for? And would you like a tutor with you?”

The girl mentally counted the people in her head. “I think there are four of us, and a tutor won’t be needed.”

Genevieve scrolled through the previous bookings with her mouse. Different colours blocked out specific periods until a vacancy popped up. “The next open slot is in fifteen minutes. Floor twelve, room nine. It’s available for two hours, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, that will be just fine.”

For a second, the sound of keyboard typing filled the hole in the conversation. “Can I get a student ID number?”

The girl presented her university issued card. Genevieve copied the numbers before finishing the booking. “That’s it, you’re good to go.”

The girl mumbled her thanks and dragged her feet towards the elevator.

Between the diner and her lectures, Genevieve had found herself at the library more often than she’d like to admit. This eventually lead her to pick up a part time position as the front desk help.

People would either come up to schedule bookings for study groups, tutors, or a computer. Professors of the mathematical science’s department held their office hours in certain rooms, so maintaining a strict schedule was key to avoid overlap. Dr. Bida, a professor she had done research with during her first year, always smiled brightly and waved whenever he passed by. The pay was great, the tasks were minimal, and it gave her the opportunity to do her course readings when it was particularly dead.

“Zayn, what the fuck are you talking about?” The faint voice travelled from a distance away. Genevieve’s ears perk up from the familiarity. “I’m completely lost.”

“Okay, how about one way ANOVA? You must have done that by now at this point of the semester.” Genevieve knew it compared the means between groups and determines whether any of those means are statistically significantly different from each other. Specifically, it tested the null hypothesis: where µ is the group mean and k is the number of groups. “Does that ring any bells?”

“Maybe, I don’t know?”

“Please tell me you know what the acronym stands for at least.”

“Nope. Nothing. I’m blank.”

“Really?”

“I’m dead serious.” Angie’s words held no comic relief. “When I told you I needed help with this course, I really meant it.”

“And you tell me this a day before your assignment is due.”

“Sorry! I got the dates mixed up, honest mistake.” Angie’s voice squeaked as she neared the end of her sentence. The voices became clearer and clearer as they stepped from behind the wall. “Why did you ask to meet here anyway? We could’ve done this at yours.”

“No we need—” Zayn didn’t get to finish his train of thought. His words cut abruptly like a slice of sponge cake under a steak knife. “—Gen? Is that you?”

Genevieve’s neck snapped up at the mention of her name, her eyes owlish. She was guilty of listening in on their back and forth, but wasn’t sure if their friendship had reached a point where she could freely insert herself into the conversation, so she had kept her head down to her books.

“Gen! I didn’t know you worked here!” Angie exclaimed marching over to the desk, Zayn in tow. Genevieve smiled, a genuine one, not the one she had in her back pocket for the sake of customer service. “Holy shit, this must be a great job!”

“You’ll find me here more than anywhere.” Angie played with the free pens and sticky notepads that advertised the university’s logo. She almost tipped over the brochures about managing mental health with a full course load. “What brings you guys here?”

Zayn hissed in pain. “Don’t ask—” but it was too late.

The back of Angie’s palm hit her forehead.

“A horrendous tragedy,” she moaned with her eyes shut. Faux grief made her lips tremble. Though sadness transformed her face, a bitter scowl soon tugged at the end of her lips. “You know apparently I have a thirty percent assignment due tomorrow? Like a whole thirty percent. And I found out yesterday.”

“Ouch,” Genevieve sympathized.

“It’s your fault for not going to the lectures and sleeping in.”

“Zayn, who’s side are you on?” Angie challenged. He dodged her attempts at giving him a twisting pinch to the ribs. “Anyway, Z here has taken the course before so he’s being a sweetheart and lending his brain. Well, whatever is left of it anyway.”

“Angie, I’m helping you. If you don’t tone down your quips, I might as well put in the wrong answers on purpose and poof! That thirty percent of your grade will amount to a zero.”

Angie narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t try me.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with?” Angie faced Genevieve and motioned a limp hand towards Zayn. She resembled a bored weatherman with a greenscreen behind.

“Ignore her, Gen. Can we get a computer?”

“‘Course,” Genevieve laughed. “Do you need a tutor with you?”

“That would be a dream,” Angie added as she pulled her hair into a ponytail with the band wrapped around her wrist. “The more the merrier, you know! There’s strength in numbers.”

Zayn leaned his weight on the slab of counter in front of them and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s only an assignment, you’re not going off to war.”

“With the amount of torture I am enduring, I might as well.”

Zayn and Angie’s conversation went back and forth like a tennis match. Genevieve’s fingers robotically put in her login and password because the monitor had gone to sleep. Genevieve examined the calendar that popped up on her screen momentarily, her lips puckered in concentration. “You’re good for a computer, but I’m afraid the next tutor isn’t available for four hours.”

“Shit.” Angie rubbed her temple to ease her climbing stress.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for a lack of availability between tutors and students. Genevieve scanned the page in front of her once more to find any possible way to squeeze them in. Usually when an appointment was a no show, it was possible. But when the screen showed no cancelations, there was not much to do. “What course is it anyway?”

“It’s an intro course to stats.”

“Oh, I might know a few things about it here and there.” Genevieve clicked the x on her window and met Angie’s pleading gaze. The desperation in her eyes disappeared with her next words. “I’m here to help if you need it!”

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I had to take it first year, it was very straightforward.”

“Speak for yourself, I went to one lecture and felt like the prof had taken a baseball bat to my face.”

“I’m guessing you need the computer for the SPSS software?” Genevieve recalled they had one assignment in that course. The tricky software was already installed on campus computers, but cost a fortune if purchased individually. It made sense as to why they didn’t do it on their laptops.

Zayn piped up. “Yeah, there’s like a tonne of raw data to analyze. It’s gonna take a while.”

Genevieve nodded, already clearing her station. “Ah, well, I’m not doing much right now, I can take a look.”

“You’re an absolute angel, godsend!” Angie would’ve jumped over the desk to crush her in a hug if Genevieve hadn’t rolled back her chair to step around the table. She turned a small sign towards the middle of the desk. Ring bell for help.

Genevieve brushed off her thanks. “Oh I’m far from, just doing what I can. It’s no problem, really.”

Genevieve was making sure that her textbooks were shut and put away along with her expensive calculator when Angie started again. “This is what we need in our life! More selflessness! Everyone is so greedy now days, don’t you think? So noble of you. In fact, I’m gonna write your name down for the nobel prize for math!”

“That’s not how it works, Angie, but sure knock yourself out.” Zayn chewed his gum so slowly that his jaw flexed with each bite. “I think it’s not even called that. Right, Gen?”

“It’s called the Field's medal. It’s like the nobel prize, but it’s awarded every four years.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to. Same thing.” Angie shrugged and threw an arm over Genevieve’s shoulder when she was close enough.

Genevieve lead the duo to the assigned computer, their row was thankfully empty. The room was shared with two other students seated further away; with their headphones on, they seemed oblivious to the world. Angie logged into her account and Zayn took it from there. He sandwiched himself between Angie on his left and Genevieve on the right.

The chairs in the lab weren’t as comfy as the one Genevieve was previously seated on. Without a cushion, it was just hard blue plastic which made your behind sore.

Zayn double clicked the software icon. His screen filled with horizontal and vertical cells similar to excel. He split the screen, on one side there was SPSS and on the other there were instructions. He copy pasted the raw data assigned by the professor, numbers in the squares from A1 to G93 rolled in like a lottery machine.

“Okay let's sort this out,” he sighed under his breath. It was the most redundant part of the assignment. The variables needed to correspond correctly or else your analysis would not be fruitful.

Genevieve frowned, confusion pressed her brows together. People had different ways of doing things, and of course, there is no harm in that. But the more she observed Zayn’s cursor, she realized his approach was inefficient and clumsy. “Are you doing it manually?”

“Isn’t this the only way?”

“Nope, I can just plug in a few formulas to set the parameters and the software will pick up how we want it organized.”

“You’re kidding,” Zayn deadpanned. He turned to Genevieve with his mouth parted and eyes popped. “Last time, I hand sifted through pages and pages of data.”

“All 900 points?” Zayn nodded enthusiastically at Genevieve’s raised brow. “That must have taken hours. Here, let me show you.”

It went on like that. Zayn mainly lead the direction; Genevieve added in her two cents and supervised. Angie was busy picking her peeling gel nailpolish. There was a solid fifteen minutes where she put in effort, but her clicks ended up deleting two rows. Then a mutual agreement was reached that Angie fingers would remain far away from the mouse or keyboard. She was free to voice her concerns from a distance.

Genevieve sneaked a few glances at the front desk, but there was no one in dire need of help.

“Fucking hell,” Angie seethed in a hushed whisper. The way she jumped off her seat suggested someone lit a round of firecrackers under her chair. She darted to grab her bag and hold it in front of her face. Behind her disguise, her face twitched with fear and she slouched to make herself smaller. “What on God’s green Earth is she doing here?”

“Who?” Zayn said without peeling his eyes from the screen, used to her dramatics. Angie scampered underneath the empty space of their desk. It was remarkable how quickly she could get her body to fold into a fetal position. From her cramped place on the floor, Angie still had Zayn and Genevieve’s view.

“Don’t look now, but it’s Rebecca by the front.” As if it was a staged cue, their necks snapped towards the red head exiting off the elevator, in sync. She carried a binder with papers and a textbook topped it off. Rebecca had a phone pressed to the side of her ear as she spoke into the receiver. Angie’s advice was lost in thin air which resulted in her face contorting into a snarl. “I said don’t look, great, you’ve both made it painfully obvious now. Wonderful.”

“Who’s Rebecca?” Genevieve whispered as low she could.

“Angie’s ex.” Zayn informed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Zayn finally noticed Angie’s ridiculous hiding spot and a look of second hand embarrassment flushed his cheeks. “Get out from behind there, Angie, you look like a loon.”

“Is she gone?” Angie inquired.

“No.”

“Then I’m not coming out.”

“Great.” Zayn had learned how to pick and choose his battles with Angie. This was a time to let her be.

Genevieve felt like she had heard the thirty second trailer of the topic. It was difficult to string the beginning, middle, and end of the saga that seemed to be Angie’s relationship. “What happened between you guys?”

“She broke my heart, smashed it and then threw a party like nothing else happened. I caught her in bed with a first year and she said they were cuddling. Cuddling! Can you believe that?” Angie scoffed. She had taken a bite out of a chewy bar that she swiped from her bag. The plastic crinkled loudly in her fist. “I’d rather be left at the altar, it would’ve been less painful. The smugness of the first year didn’t help matters, went around campus gloating. Menace.”

“She fucked Angie over real bad. She had commitment issues and shit.”

“She didn’t fuck me over, Zayn. I’m plenty fine, can’t you see? I’m lovely, I’m—”

“—Hiding pathetically under a desk?”

“—great. Splendid, even. Perfectly intact.”

Zayn eyes were like a bowling ball going full speed down an empty ally. The mouse double clicked under his index finger as his attention diverted back to the task at hand. “Save your breath, you’re sounding more and more like Harry.”

“Why are you comparing me to him, have you gone mad? He was ten times worse than me.”

“I’m saying both of you are like kicked puppies. Moping and basking in your misery every second of the day. So what you lost someone, people come and go! That’s life!”

Angie scoffed again. Her competitive streak was bold and prominent and very visible. “Give me some credit, I’m much better at coping than Harry. He’s a complete mess, makes me look like an angel.”

“What do you mean?” Genevieve prompted, leaning forward. She chewed on the corner of her mouth. The skin was soon to be raw and agitated.

“When we first met Harry, he was a wreck. He doesn’t talk about it much but we assume he went through a nasty breakup of some sorts.”

Genevieve didn’t have experience with what hot flashes felt like, but she was sure this was it. The room was suddenly a couple degrees colder, but her skin was flaming hot. The warmth was most intense over her face, neck and chest. The tips of her fingers felt like she held onto ice cubes for a moment too long.

Genevieve ran her tongue over the dry cracks in her bottom lip. “Oh.”

Angie bit off another piece of her bar, a few crumbs falling from her mouth. If Genevieve was in a decent state of mind, the mind numbing hours of training videos would’ve reminded her to enforce the no food policy in the building. Instead, her tongue sat heavy in her mouth.

“He sulked for at least a year before getting over whoever it was, he won’t give us a name. I tried prying it out of him when he was sloshed, but he’s a stubborn little knob.”

The steady percussion of Genevieve’s heart raised in tempo. A dagger twisted in her gut which explained the sharp pain in her abdomen. The four walls of the room took gradual steps towards her. The space became limited, suffocating, and the oxygen was being slowly sucked away.

“But the difference between you and Harry is that he got over it! Whereas you, on the other hand, can’t get past the first stage of grief.”

“Stop talking, you sound more and more like my therapist. And I’m not paying you, so don’t get any ideas.” Angie narrowed her eyes at Zayn, then peered up at Genevieve with a sorry gaze. “If I got a dime for everytime Zayn psychoanalyzed me, I’d pay off my tuition and get a fancy bungalow in The Bahamas. Maybe even a minifridge. He thinks he’s the next Freud, don’t you?”

Zayn laughed. “Do you see what you’re doing? Deflecting the actual problem.”

“Oh come off it! Less talking and more doing my assignment, chop, chop! It won’t finish itself, you know?”

“While I’m here slaving away, would you like to tack on any more insults, Your Highness?”

“Now that you mention it….”

Gen exhaled in hopes to loosen the winding nerves in her shoulders and chest. Her eyes focused on the digital clock at the bottom right hand corner of the monitor. “You guys good with this? I’m gonna run to the loo then head home since my shift ends in five.”

“Thanks so much for doing this, Gen. Absolute lifesaver,” Angie dropped her teasing in a second. A soft smile spoke of her gratitude with great conviction.

“No worries, text me if you need any more help.” Genevieve stood up from her chair. The sudden movement made her head dizzy. Her legs were as stable as jelly.

“Hope that won’t be necessary, but go ahead and feed your number just in case, you know? Zayn isn’t the brightest bulb at times.”

“I’m not the brightest bulb? Are you listening to yourself? You haven’t touched the keyboard once!” Zayn snapped his eyes over to Genevive as she handed back Angie’s phone. An exasperated rage glossed his features. His hair pointed a million different directions from the countless times he ran his fingers through it. “Gen, get out while you can or else you won’t get another chance.”

“You guys are too much,” Genevieve chuckled shaking her head. “I’ll see you around.”

Genevieve’s bladder wasn’t the reason behind her brisk steps towards the toilets. She needed to splash her face with ice cold water to balance out her temperature. It was overwhelming, to say the least. All the information thrown at her needed time to come down to a simmer, currently, it was bubbling at an all time high and slipping over the edge.

Her fingers pressed to the polymer of the salmon coloured sink. The skin under her nails turned paper white from the pressure of her weight. Her breaths were laboured, so she shut her eyes tightly and steadied all the possibilities her mind was running to.

A flush sounds loudly. The high pitched noise dwindles when the tank is refilling. A lock turned and out comes the click click click of tall heels.

“Genny? Is that you?”

“Hannah?” Migraine Morton wore a tight leather skirt that did wonders for her legs, which of course were covered in fake tan. She waved her manicured hands under the sink, the sensors blinked a blue light and water rushed out of the tap. “How are you?”

“It’s been forever, you’ve changed so much! And look at those cheekbones, you look straight off the runway.” She ripped paper towels from the dispenser. The colour becoming a dark brown as it soaked the water off of her. “It’s the Keto Diet, isn’t it? It’s been working for so many of my girlfriends, but I can’t get even keep five pounds off. Anyway, how’s everything?”

The way she tilted her head assumed that they were lifelong friends who spoke everyday. That wasn’t the case whatsoever. The most Hannah knew about Genevieve was from a boy that once connected them. They probably qualified as acquaintances rather than friends on facebook. But Hannah had a knack for befriending anything with a living pulse—fucking too, if you listened to the gossip on campus.

“Yeah, it’s been going well! Lectures, the diner, bouncing back everywhere.”

“It’s… it’s good to keep yourself busy, you know.” Hannah’s tone transformed into that of a sympathetic one. It probably came from a good place. But when her brows crumpled together, Genevieve wanted the ground to swallow her whole.“I know how hard it must be after...”

“I’m actually doing alright.” Genevieve smiled, an on command customer service grin.

“It’s just when I heard, I thought you would be absolutely devastated! I mean, who wouldn’t be right?” Hannah twirled a stupid blond lock of hair around her pointer finger. “Both of you were always joined at the hip”

“People learn to let go. It’s only natural.”

Hannah’s face morphed into one thought provoking one, as if Genevieve’s words were a part of some philosophical theory.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right!” By her face, you would assume that clouds had parted and a beam of light shone down. This revelation was probably the first and last of the century for her. “Do you remember Amanda Wang? From first year sociology? How we were inseparable? Well she literally disappeared off the Earth and I haven’t heard from her. Just between us though, she was a bit of a pretentious bitch.” Hannah smacked her glossy lips. The shine seemed sticky and too bubblegum. “Of course, there’s no comparison to be made between our situation, you knew him for years.”

“Yeah,” Genevieve answered weakly.

“Shit I’m sorry!” Her eyes widened as she registered what she said, palms coming up in defence. Her brain had a tendency to lag a couple steps behind. It was always a few seconds too late. “I’m not making things any better. That probably sounded really daft.”

“It’s all good.”

Hannah threw away her used paper towel. She hiked her purse in the crook of her elbow. “Keep hanging in there girlie, it gets better!”

“Don’t I know it!”

She reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, Genny! You’re still the jokester as ever! I’ve got to run off to my next lecture, but it was nice seeing you! Don’t be a stranger, we should meet up again! Text me!”

“See you, Hannah!” Genevieve grinned, fake and compulsory.

She wiggled her fingers, like a main character of some cheesy 2000’s movie, and clicked off.

Genevieve’s palms held her face as she tried her utmost best to not scream from frustration. There was one thing clear as day, she had to get away from the library. All the Harry talk, all the Hannah talk, was only depleting the count of her brain cells. She needed them to finish her untouched module. There were fifty questions. At one glance, she knew they would suck her soul.

Genevieve grabbed her coat and bag from her desk. The person who was assigned the next shift was signing on the computer to punch in their hours. She waved a quick goodbye and pressed the button to the elevator.

Her car returned from the shop. After a hefty oil change and the addition of four winter tires, it was safe to drive. Her seats were frozen so she turned on her engine and blasted the heat. In turn, the radio automatically switched on to the station set as the number one setting.

Liam: —That was Strangers you just heard by The Bell. I’ve been listening to them quite a bit, they’re bound to play stadiums soon, you can take my word. Now it is time for my personal favourite segment of the show. Usually it’s you guys listening in, but I’d thought we better switch it up! This is Listen Liam! Where you tell me what’s going on in your life and maybe I can offer an ear. You’re on the air.

Caller: Liam! I am in a bit of a pickle.

Liam: I’m all ears, go on!

Caller: I think my friend has a drinking problem. She went so overboard last night that she started chewing her bare foot thinking it was a piece of meat! She’s vegan! How is that even possible?!

Liam: [Laughs] Now, that has got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard all week. We all have a friend that’s like that. I’ve got Niall. Blonde, loud, talks a lot. You heard of him?

Caller: I think he was in one of my lectures.

Liam: Great! As soon as I think something is going iffy with one of my friends I just compare them to Niall. If they’re worse than him, I’m rushing to the closest rehab. If not, all is well!

Caller: That actually puts so much into perspective. Thanks Liam!

Liam: Always here for help! Thank you for your call. Our next song is very fitting, Here is Drunk in Love by the Legend herself.

Genevieve didn’t know she was in the parking lot of Liam’s radio station until she put her gear in park. If she couldn’t get peace in the library, the next resort was the couch generously offered to her on numerous occasions. Liam was only found here at wee hours in the night since he did night radio. Today was one of those odd days his show was on during the day—the same time she needed a place to study. It all seemed destined.

The architecture building was all points and sharp edges. The drop in quality design amplified as soon as she hit the basement. No longer was there fancy glass and shiny mirrors. The tiles on the floors were unevenly aligned and she didn’t want to analyze the yellow mold dripping down the side of one wall. She passed a custodian’s quarters, and in the corner was a door with a makeshift sign announcing the station’s territory.

Liam leaned against the wall beside the shut door. One of his foot was over the other. His phone glued to the side of his face. “Yes, yeah that apartment is no longer available.”

His eyes snapped up at the sound of her shoes against the floor. He grinned. Genevieve gave an excited wave as she walked further down the hallway and his eyes brightened.

“No, unfortunately,” he continued to mumble into the receiver.

When she got close enough, she could hear an angry accent blaring through his phone. Liam rolled his eyes and spoke into the receiver once more. “I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do.”

He pointed towards the door beside him, motioning to go inside. His phone call was probably going to take him a minute to sort out. Hopefully, he had queued up a couple songs to avoid a dead line.

Genevieve walked into the humble space, the door shut gently behind her by Liam.

There were two parts to the room. On the right side was a booth, the cramped size meant it was most likely used as a supply closet. All the equipment was squished in there. A computer sat on an ikea table and a foldable picnic chair did little to compliment it. It was a mess of wires and stray headphones lay lifelessly.

Adjacent to it was the second half of the room. A worn out rug was cut up on the floor to fit the small space. Then there was the infamous pissed on couch. The quality implied it was from the goodwill down the block. It’s ancient floral pattern proved it was previously owned by someone in their 60’s. On one end of the couch, a head of dark chestnut hair rested against the arm.

She should’ve stayed at the library.

She should’ve gone home.

She should’ve gone to a coffee shop.

Now looking at the sight in front of her, the possibilities were endless.

When Genevieve was twelve, she was sure she had lived through the worst day of her life. It was in Mrs. Webster’s afternoon math class. She hadn’t been keeping up with doing her homework. And Mrs. Webster picked on her to answer a simple multiplication question scratched on the board. She blurted out the first number that came to mind— two.

The whole class hollered with laugher and she sunk down in her assigned chair with red cheeks. Sixty-eight multiplied by nine was never, ever, two. If only she had made an educated guess and gave a number that wasn’t a single digit, she wouldn’t have seemed like a complete loser.

That night she went home and reviewed the chart of times table and made sure it was burned in the back of her eyelids.

The multiplication table, the public humiliation, and the sight in front of her was ingrained deeply in a part of her brain she would never voluntarily revisit.

“Well, don’t just stand there.” His eyes did not part from the novel cracked open in front of him. His nose wiggled when he found a particular line amusing. An awkward beat passed and Genevieve was at a loss of words. “Have you become a statue? Do I need to unfreeze you?”

He laid horizontally on the couch. The length of his legs —spread out across the cushions— shrunk the size of the furniture, making it seem smaller than it actually was. He propped his head on a folded arm, a makeshift pillow.

“You’re here.” Their disagreement from before was still a fresh wound. The alcohol aided her bravery last time, but now without its push, Genevieve wondered if he took those words to heart. She didn’t know where they stood. “Yet again.”

“I am.” He closed the book after folding a dog ear at the top right hand corner. His neck craned to look towards where she stood. “Hello to you, too.”

Genevieve clutched the strap of her bag. She noticed there was no resentment in his voice. “How… what are you doing here?”

“Liza’s show just finished up, I’m usually here for it. The million dollar question is, what made you decide to grace us with your presence on this fine Tuesday?”

She blinked quickly as panic flushed up her neck. She had to be tactical about her response. Admitting to needing a study space was the cheese at the end of a mouse trap. She didn’t want to trap herself in a room with Harry for God knows how long. Her day had gone through enough loops and twists and Genevieve wanted to get off the rollercoaster. She had to get out of here. “I came to drop off something for Liam, but I’ll get going.”

Genevieve turned around to grip the doorknob, but before she could twist it, Harry spoke up. “What is it?”

“Hm?” She asked looking over her shoulder. He sat upright, the book of his interest was now face down on his lap. He wore a simple black shirt, a red flannel was unbuttoned over it.

“The thing you were here to drop off.”

“Yeah, oh, I um, already gave it to him.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question.”

“It was a...” she mulled through an imaginary list of objects to fit this scenario.

When she took a minute too long, a knowing smile quirked his lips. “Lying isn’t a good look on you.”

She scoffed. “I’m not lying, Harry.”

“Yes you are and it’s written all over your face.” He pointed it out like a simple observation as if saying the sky is blue, birds fly, and Genevieve lies. “You do that thing when one part of your mouth is higher than the other and you avoid eye contact.”

The swinging door almost knocked her out from the sudden force. She dodged it just in time. It was a hair’s length distance away from breaking her nose. Her eyes widened in shock. Harry mouthed karma.

“Shit, Gen.” Liam stumbled in. “Why are you standing so close to the door? You alright?”

“Was actually leaving.”

Liam’s brows creased. “Rubbish, you just got here. You’re definitely staying for longer. I was thinking of popping to that pretzel shop right beside to get myself something to chew on. Which one do you want?”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Liam looked over Genevieve’s shoulder. “Harry?”

“Anything, as long as it’s not super sweet.”

“You got it.” Liam nodded and gave a gleaming smile his way. “And you—” Liam turned to Genevieve with a pointed finger, it didn’t hold much authority “—Better not be gone until I’ve come back or else I’ll be very cross. I mean it, don’t even think about it.”

Genevieve huffed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “What am I even supposed to do here in the meantime? Queue up songs for you? I’ll play the Highschool Musical soundtrack for your listeners and soon there won’t be any left.”

“I’ve already got that taken care of. Don’t you have a mountain worth of coursework? Get a start on that.”

Genevieve felt like she was reaching into a magician's black hat and pulling out a rabbit. But in her case there were no furry animals, only poorly threaded excuses. “I… I don’t have my calculator or any pens or—”

Liam shuffled into the booth. His back curved as he bent over the desk. A cylinder container was situated at the corner beside the workplace lamp. It was sparsely filled with a couple highlighters, paperclips, and a single pen.

He plucked the utensil quickly before handing it to Genevieve. “Here, use this. I think I may have my finance calculator in my bag. It should have the same functions.”

The pace of everything slows down as the cheap plastic rolled between her thumb and forefinger. It was a classic blue BIC pen, the type offices bought in bulk to save money.

There is a reason why Genevieve only used black inked pens. Every time she saw blue on paper, she felt his thumb on her lip. It was too distracting, like a herd of bees buzzing collectively around her in threatening circles. Multiple stingers pierced nostalgia deep into her arms, legs, shoulders, lips. Her skin broke and red painful bumps erupted. Her chest tightened and her throat clamped shut.

“Gen, Gen? You alright?” Liam squeezed her forearm and Genevieve woke from her trance.

“Hm?”

“You became really pale.”

She cleared her throat to delay her response. “Um… I—can’t. I don’t use blue pens. It’s just…” She knew she sounded delirious. Though her left hand was fisted, the slight tremor was not well hidden.

Liam’s inquisitive look wasn’t judgemental or contemptuous and for that she was thankful.

What differentiated Liam from others is that he understood without needing to know the details. He didn’t ask questions because he knew if Genevieve wanted to share, she would at her own time. Most often times, her lips were the zig zag teeth of zippers—tightly fastened—but he remained on the sidelines, patient. With one look he appraised her and knew this stemmed deep.

“I’ve got another,” Harry interrupted, making Genevieve’s neck turn towards him. She forgot for a moment that he was in the room. He waved a pencil in the air. The pink eraser on the end was salmon coloured and the tip was a bit rounded. It wasn’t a pen, but it would have to do.

“That settles it,” Liam concluded with a clap. “You’re staying.” There was no room to rebuttal. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone and pulled the door open. Liam was gone, only leaving a gust of wind in his departure.

Genevieve rubbed her palm over her face.

“I don’t bite, you know?” His tone was steady. “Being in a room with me isn’t as dreadful as you’re making it out to be.”

“Oh, it’s worse,” Genevieve mumbled under her breath, but it was drowned out by Harry’s backpack hitting the floor. The spot on the couch beside him was now vacant.

“We need to set boundaries.” It’s ironic for her to say this as she walked over to empty space he set aside for her.

The only other place left to sit was the floor, she didn’t need to add back problems to her list of already growing concerns. This list had Harry’s name at the very top in red ink; underlined, and multiple exclamation marks surrounded it. If it was anytime to acknowledge it, this was it, when he was an arms length away on the opposite side of the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“Like we need some parameters. Some sort of rules to abide by if you’re just gonna end up popping up everywhere.”

He laughed, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back like Genevieve was on stage behind a microphone at stand up night. It took a minute for his chuckles to dwindle down. Harry’s brows almost met his hairline when Genevieve’s face remained stoic. “Oh wait… you’re serious.”

“I’ll go first.” Genevieve distracted herself by pulling out her notebook and flipping to the last page she worked on. She picked up the pencil he dropped beside his thigh. It was easier to get her thoughts in order when she didn’t make eye contact with him.“We can’t let anyone know about how we know each other. I haven’t… haven’t told Liam, Meena or Niall about any of it and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“It’s not something to hide.”

“For me, it is.” Genevieve breathed out a sigh. Her back hit the cushion and she folded her legs underneath herself. “And from what I’m hearing from Angie and Zayn, they don’t know much either.”

“It just never came up so I didn’t bother.” Harry shrugged cracking the novel open to his marked page. “Alright, I'll give you that, only if you agree not to be so...”

His sentence was a loose piece of thread, floating freely. He purposefully let it dangle between them.

“Go on.” Genevieve tilted her head. “Finish your sentence.”

His face contorted as he tried to find the right word. A tongue poked the inside of his cheek.

“...Tense.”

Genevieve threw the pencil at Harry. The gesture is so natural that it startled her. It bounced off the side of his forehead with a clunk. His fingers rushed to apply pressure on the sore spot. His pink lips pouted.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned. He pretended as if Genevieve had chucked it at full force, when in reality it was a lousy throw, she had noodle arms. “I gave you that to use, not to assault me with.”

“I’m not tense.” Her jaw hung open in disbelief.

“Then it shouldn’t be a chore to agree to it.” Harry countered.

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “It shouldn’t.”

The radio switched tracks, Liam’s queued up a song sounded softly in the silence. An acoustic guitar strummed in the background as Genevieve started a problem and Harry went back to his book.

He spread out his legs in front of him, his back moulded against the couch in a way that would leave him to complain about an ache in a couple of hours. Genevieve refrained from pointing it out.

Two songs finished and a pre-recorded ad played. The brief thirty seconds advertised the fundraiser a student group put together to raise funds for Angie Wu’s family. The next song started, an upbeat tempo and rhythm.

“Never thought I'd see the day you’d say no to pretzels.”

She didn’t realize she was nodding with the music until she stopped and turned her head towards him. She raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Those were your favourite.”

“Yeah, I’m just not hungry.”

“You were so crazy about them. I took one bag from the pantry and you bit my head off. How was I supposed to know it was yours?”

Genevieve’s eyes flickered down towards the cover in his hand. “Never thought I’d see you read something by Toni Morrison.”

“It was on the list.”

“You still have it? I thought it was lost.”

“I do, the bloody thing never ends. Just when you think you’ve gone through a big chunk, you flip the page and there’s more.” He peered over the top of the book at her. “I’ve went to the library enough times, they know my name without checking my card.”

Genevieve dotted an equal sign and then a row of numbers. She collected like terms and simplified the problem. “I tried looking for it everywhere in the flat. Spent two weeks.”

“Should’ve checked the car.” His voice was low, almost lost in with the music, but she heard it. A sad smile played on the ends of his lips as he flipped the page.

Genevieve noticed his adam’s apple rise and fall. There is a distant look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Harry’s lashes fluttered quickly, to blink away the memories playing in his mind. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Most of them are confusing as shit, don’t make sense. Feels like reading in circles, but so far I’ve liked four of them.”

“Yeah? How many have you gone through?”

Harry’s forehead scrunched in thought as he mentally counts the different titles, using his digits to keep track if needed. His lips—puckered in concentration— were red and bitten, yet appear feather soft.

“Not many, maybe nine?” His ring and middle finger scratched at his hairline, light bounced off the metal bands wrapped around his digits. His posture softened as a blush rose up his neck. “‘I'm a slow reader,” he admitted, his tone timid and bashful.

Genevieve’s eyes rolled involuntarily, a breathy laugh danced through her lips. “Oh, I know.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that you take two years to read a take out menu, always have.”

“It’s called browsing the options and specials.”

“Yet you order the same every time? Do explain.” Playful offence is threaded between them. It was starting to resemble the easy conversations they once shared over a cereal breakfast, lazy Sundays, in passing here and there. The smallest things they had taken for granted became a bitter recollection.

His throat grumbled in defeat. “Be nice.”

There were days where Genevieve wanted to put a halt to whatever distance they had carved from each other. Harry felt oceans away, but it would be cruel to put all the burden on him. Genevieve wasn’t standing there with warm welcoming arms either, she was rather stone cold.

They were dropped beads of a broken necklace, scattered on a tiled floor. The thread that joined them had snapped. There had been occurrences where Genevieve’s thumb hovered over his contact name, the number so old that she wasn’t sure if it still worked. She almost sent him a text, left a voicemail. She missed her friend, that wasn’t in question, but she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. He was to blame.

But there they were. Harry was still Harry. And Genevieve was Genny. Sure, his shoulders were slightly broader, his hair a bit shorter, and his posture more crooked. It was also okay that they weren’t the same. There was an awkward space that separated them, one that didn’t exist before because Harry would have had his arm thrown over her shoulders and her head would comfortably align with his chest.

“Is it—” Genevieve gulped loudly, hesitant as nerves circled her belly like sharks do the ocean. She twisted her sleeves in her palm before starting once more. She didn’t know if her request was intrusive or disrespectful in any way. She hoped it wasn’t. “Is it okay if I maybe take a look at it?”

Harry had found the list, so it belonged to him. Much like how Genevieve protected some photographs and a lighter with her life. It would be reasonable if his answer wasn’t what she was pulling for. He had ownership and the right to say no.

A pause followed, it made her sure that she was twisting knobs on locked doors. Harry’s face remained impassive. Had she not said it loud enough? Her limbs felt heavy and heat began to crawl up Genevieve’s face as she realized rejection wasn’t a reality far away, but it was rather staring her in the face.

Genevieve deflated when he nodded eagerly.

“‘Course, yeah. I’ll bring it around sometime.”

The door swung open and Liam came in clutching far too much than he could balance. A bag hung from between his chest and chin, there were three more in his hand. The paper wrinkled loudly as he moved. He shut the door behind him with the heel of his foot.

Genevieve shot a confused look at his small buffet.

“They just increased the student discount for these! Can you believe?”

***

November 15, 2019

Genevieve was a match burning at both ends. Sometimes it would be too much of a chore to step in the shower or brush her teeth. The smallest tasks that once would come so naturally now demanded significant energy. Sure, she could blame it to her course load, and juggling jobs at Flo’s and the student help desk. But she knew self care was pushed to the back burner way before any of that started—three years ago precisely.

Today, she opened the shared document on her computer.

A long needle injected into her spine; the pinch was sharp. Stress shot through every nerve ending when the cursor scrolled down the screen.

Group assignments did more harm than good, if only professors understood that. The assignment was to be done between four random people in her course. The groups were preselected and Genevieve didn’t know a single face. The dropbox to hand in the report closed at midnight. Currently, the fifteen page report only came up to three pages.

She tried to get hold of her remaining group members, but the group chat was only a string of messages from her end. The shower she planned to take was now an unaffordable luxury. She cracked her knuckles and began pulling the dead weight of three people.

Her phone buzzed, disrupting the quiet in her flat. She was so caught up in editing the null hypothesis she didn’t check the caller ID and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Genevieve?”

“Mum, hi,” Genevieve breathed out and the rush of air created static on the line.

“Are you in the middle of something? You sound busy.”

Genevieve skimmed over a research paper she wanted to reference. Her mouse copy pasted the citation. “Just doing an assignment last minute. I could throw up from the stress.”

“Baby, you need to take it easier, that is no way to live, no matter what deadline you’re under,” she scolded with gentle concern. Like always, it went through Genevieve’s ear and came out the other. “Anyway, I called because Sarah—the nice lady down the street—has started a donation drive for Syrian Refugees. I’m giving her your old clothes, is that alright?”

“The ones in boxes up in the attic?”

“Yes, if you need them I can—”

“No, give them away. I can’t remember the last time I wore them, it’s better they get some use out of them.” Genevieve selected two lines on the document. The words highlighted a sky blue, then she hit backspace.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Plus, it would clear up some space up there anyway.”

“Don’t go too intense with your cleaning, you get a bit kooky.” Genevieve giggled and pressed the phone between her shoulder and cheek. She continued her work on the laptop.

“There’s no harm in having a clean, tidy space!” Label makers and organizing bins got Margaret White more excited than any man. Spring cleaning happened quarterly at their residence. The attic was full of abandoned scrapbooks, VCR cassettes, old furniture, and her broken bicycle that had a neon pink basket. “While I was up there, I did find something.”

Genevieve smiled. “Did you cry to my elementary school pictures? Again?”

“Oh hush!” Genevieve pictured her crossed brows. Waterworks were in ample supply when taking a trip down memory lane with her mother, it was like forgetting to shut the water tap off. Genevieve found it amusing to poke fun at her for. “You still have a box of his stuff. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

The pause was deafening. The clicking of Genevieve’s fingers on the keyboard came to a definite halt. Her laptop screen became muddled as it went out of focus. She felt the back of her eyes sting as she recalled the specific box. She smelled August.

“Gen?”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Genevieve clutched the receiver with a sudden desperation. There was apparent sniffling on her end of the line. Genevieve cleared her throat and tried to disguise it as a cough. “Mum I just...”

“I can post it to you. There are a lot of pictures.”

“Can you, please?” Genevieve choked back a sob.

“Of course.”

Genevieve clamped her eyes shut and breathed deep through her nostrils. She assumed she owed her mother an explanation for the sudden onslaught of emotions. “I’m not crazy, it’s just this course, this assignment, is really putting a stress on me.”

“I know, Darling,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced in the slightest.

Genevieve swallowed sour bile. “It’s not… it’s not because of him, I swear.”

“Didn’t think it was.”

“Really?” Genevieve’s word squeaked.

“Genevieve, baby,” her mother began. Margaret pursed her lips and it built a bustling silence. Words were tricky in sensitive situations like these. If not cherry picked with care and caution, they can ruin relationships—even of blood—with a snap. “He left, he was a great boy, but he left. And a part of me tells me you’re not coping.”

“I am. I promise I am.”

Genevieve covered the mouthpiece on her to muffle any whimpers. She rolled her lips tightly.

Margaret sighed. “I just worry about you, is all.”

“No reason to be, I’m doing much better.”

Blue sky. Birds fly. Genevieve lies.

“Alright.” There was shuffling on the other side of the line. “I’ll ring you another time. Take care of yourself, please.”

“Will do, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

When the call ended, Genevieve bowed her head in shame. Her phone clattered on her wooden desk, then laid dead. The squares aligned in even rows on her keyboard were black. The font of each letter was simple, and the colour of winter. The U,G,S,A,T keys were dotted with small puddles of tears.

***

Beta: @drivingmekiwi @at-least-im-1 @angryniall @pagesuponstpages @feminarrie @fireawaynjh

Banner: @booksncoffee

Tag List: 

@mellamolayla @teafull @queenalienscherrypie @harryschanclas @wanderlustiing @daydreamsharry @quintessentially-weird @brassharry @kizsyou @thursday-iminlove @at-least-im-1 @la-peonia @stylesfics-xx @blue-eyes-freckles-and-a-smile @guccikingstyles @awomanindeniall @mylifeisatoilet @confusedkiwifan @wonderonrepeat @sydneysuit @sortaanonymous @infinitiae

[sturdy-nerdy-stitchery]

I might do some small reviews of some shops that are in the area. We just moved to Colorado springs last week Friday, and today has been the first time I've been able to get out of the house by myself without a toddler at my hip.

I went out earlier in the week to a place called "who gives a scrap"which is a crafting thrift store but I had a toddler on my hip and I had to take a break in my shopping so I could take her to the car for a stinky diaper change... So I will make a post on that later.

Today, I went to a shop called "Ewe and me" located:

EWE AND ME

1025 Garden of the Gods Rd Suite F, Colorado Springs, CO 80907

Upon first coming in, I was greeted politely as per usual with any retail establishment. They asked if I had been there before to which I replied with a no. They pointed out the various worsted weights of yarn and where things were located and told me to have fun browsing and that if I needed any help, to just ask.

I went to the back of the store, and placed my bag on a chair where I then proceeded to take out my knitting needles and circulars so I could make sure I found the right size and length I needed. Same length as some circulars I already own but a bigger needle size.

One of the ladies who works there was incredibly helpful when she measured my needles and helped me pick out some cables. She informed me that knit picks interchangeable needles that I own are also compatible with knitters pride cables and she showed me a bit of selection they had.

I went with some Knitters pride "smart stix", as they came in fun, bright, neon colors and every inch had a silver stripe on it so that you could also use it as a ruler, and I found that to be an incredibly neat feature!

I'm pleased to say that after coming home and trying them out, they in fact work and it's nice to know that I can just go to a yarn shop and buy some Knitters pride cables and they will work with my knit picks needles

The store was filled with so many other neat things and yarns that I had to practice some self-control. I left home with my interchangeable cables, some embroidery scissors, and a cute kitty cat tape measure! All for under $25!

One of the owners and I got into a very friendly discussion about travel, TSA restrictions, and what you can and cannot bring through different airports in different countries. I had to lament over the fact that one of my embroidery scissors had to get tossed in a bin that one of the Chinese airports for fear that it would get confiscated anyway.

To make up for the fact that I had to toss the embroidery scissors away, I picked up a really cute pair new embroidery scissors!

The employees who work there were super helpful and mentioned that they do open knit during business hours and anyone is welcome to come with their yarn works at any time... They also mentioned that they do open knit sessions on Tuesdays and Wednesdays from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. and on Tuesdays the theme night is Harry Potter!

So far I give this place a 5 out of 5 stars! everyone was incredibly helpful and I can't wait to go back and either buy more stuff or come so I can sit and knit with other people!

[onegirlatelier]

Enzyme Kinetics Socks, October 2019

A lot of things have happened since I last posted, most of them related to my start at university. After a productive but rather self-directed gap year, the sudden increase in workload was a bit of a shock to the system. With the academic pressure came the confusion about how to manage the ‘making’ side of my life. I have always considered sewing and knitting as the greatest passion of my life but never a career choice, so for a good while I had managed to keep academic work and dressmaking apart. However, one week after I started uni, the depth of knowledge I was required to ‘master’ (as worded in my course handbook) disrupted the uneasy balance. The doubts came back and I wondered again whether I had just made the huge mistake of choosing medicine over dressmaking.

The trigger? Enzymes. Our lecturer prepared a 54-slide handout and squeezed the entire topic into a one-hour lecture, and I lost track after the first five minutes. The panic level spiked like the oxygen affinity curve on haemoglobin cooperativity diagram.

We only get set essays on very specific topics and have plenty of time to look at them, so plenty of time to procrastinate. I was so scared I didn’t touch the subject for a whole week.

Then at some point I decided that no. I need to stop being scared. It wasn’t the actual difficulty of enzyme kinetics, but the worry inside me, that was stopping me from learning what I was here to learn.

So I had a good night’s sleep, got up, kept myself in my room an entire afternoon and then an entire evening, and the next day I found myself using the Michaelis-Menten equation just as how I expected to.

Next Saturday, I was sitting in a college seminar room and knitting the second of what happened to be my first pair of hand-knitted socks. There were mistakes but nothing too serious, and they ended up perfectly wearable.

I don’t want to use the word ‘equilibrium’ because that means the completion of the reaction…So here’s to instability!

Yarn

West Yorkshire Spinners ColourLab DK, 100% British wool, 4ply, 225m/100g.

Colour way: Summer Pinks. The colours are displayed fairly well in pictures here.

I don’t have a scale with me, so I have no idea how much yarn I have used—but I feel that a third sock or a hairband should be no problem.

(Update: my socks weigh 34~35g each, so 70g in total. Leftover yarn weighs 29g.)

Pro: A very standard self-striping yarn in good quality. 100% wool but still machine-washable, which is good for socks. The thickness is consistent with a tight ply. It doesn’t smell particularly woolly, but there’s no eek smell of chemicals either. WYS is involved in The Campaign For Wool.

Con: The yarn is more on the rustic side, so it’s a bit prickly, though I personally find it just fine. (I’m talking about it in the Wear & Tear section below.) There’s no information on their website specifying the wool-processing method. I have to assume some sort of not-so-environmentally friendly method is used.

  Pattern

So Simple Sport Socks by Glenna C. The pattern is very simple but it is written for three-needle knitting method only. I had to convert it into a pattern for magic loop method. It’s a free pattern, but there is an awful lot of mistakes. I am the oddball who knits her first pair of socks after quite a few large and complex projects, so it wasn’t too difficult to decipher the pattern, but I wouldn’t recommend it to beginners.

  Needle

I used a 2.75cm circular needle. My gauge: 25sts per 10cm.

  Modification

As with almost all my projects, I changed the stitch count instead of trying to get the same gauge as instructed in the pattern.

I casted on 53 stitches and improvised from there. For the slip stitch heel, I had 27sts for top of the foot and 26sts for the heel flap. Then I increased to 28sts on the first row of heel flap for more space because sometimes I put a tiny pad on my Achilles tendon as a cushion, or a plaster if I already had a blister.

After I turned the heel, 17sts remained on the heel flap. I picked up 14sts on each side of the heel flap and made one extra stitch between heel flap and top of the foot. So when I joined top of the foot and the heel, the stitch count for the round was 74.

When decreasing after making the heel, I was supposed to decrease two sts every other round. But my brain was dead when I knitted this section of my first sock and I decreased every round instead. It was a much steeper decrease and I managed to decrease to 52 sts in 11 rounds instead of 22. An entire 11 rounds missing! I know it made the foot arch tighter than it should be, but after trying it on my foot, it didn’t seem to mind so I went on and replicated the mistake in the other sock!

I did 3*1 ribbing on the entire medial half of the sock instead of just the top of the foot, so that it sat snugly against my arch.

When decreasing for toe part, I did asymmetric toes shaping. Instead of decreasing four sts every other round, I decreased six sts on the lateral part for every two sts on the medial part. Another mistake: I continued the ribbing pattern for a few rows after starting to decrease for toes. It made the toe part stretchier, which was nice, but aesthetically I would prefer to stop the ribbing as I start the toe decreases.

I used three-needle bind off to finish the last 20 sts.

Wear & Tear

So far, I’ve only wore these socks for one day. I visited a museum, did some shopping, and went to a restaurant for dinner. The socks were scratchy in the first few moments, as experienced by many knitters who worked with this yarn, but then my feet got used to them and were all comfy and warm. Thanks to dancing my feet are sensitive to touch but not to pain or other unpleasant feelings, which is great for me as a sock knitter.

I can see clear signs of wear on the heels and toes, but I suppose that’s to be expected and it couldn’t get much worse. I work my feet a lot even during everyday activities (even when I’m sitting, yes), so that might contribute to the wear after only one day. Somehow the way I walk or my feet are shaped put a lot of rubbing on the Achilles tendon part of my feet, so I’m hoping that the slip stitches hold well. I’m happy to mend my socks if needed.

  Further considerations

As mentioned, I missed an entire 11 rows when decreasing for the arch, but my feet don’t seem to sense any discomfort because of this. The ribbing pattern is stretched a bit more on the arch then on the other parts, though. Still, I am curious to see what would happen if I indeed follow the pattern.

I had never worn 100% wool socks before—it was always cotton ones or store-bought wool and polyamide combination. But now that I have, there is no doubt which fibre I prefer! Wool keeps my feet warm without the cold sweat. I have a number of other projects planned at the moment, but every day the English weather nudges me to knit more socks.

[space-arts]

Lazy pictures but I’m glad to finally post this! It’s my gift for Emmy’s birthday so now that she’s finally got her package I can show this dude off!!! Pain in my fucking ass is what this fucker was. The bunny went along amazingly well with no troubles at all but the clothing was a nightmare (is that why he’s naked? maybe)

The sock cuffs were too short when I finished them, so I simply undid them and made them a few rows longer. Not a huge problem, but an omen of what is to come.

I start making the bloomers, the pattern is for straight needles but I wanted to use dpn’s so I just fiddled with the pattern as I went which was fine until I got to the waist because apparently from the 30,000 needles I have I do not actually have a longer pair of 3mm dpn’s like I thought I had... at this time, I want to have my present shipped sooner rather than later so I’m like ah fuck me mate (plus I was still on a roll from finishing the bunny flawlessly)... so I used my dpn’s for part of the row, and the other part with a pair of circulars; which of course were just too long to transfer all of the pattern onto, but just too short to do a magic loop method... and yes, despite paying over $100 for a set of interchangeable circular needles, it does not include 3mm (3.25 is the lowest -_-)... so I started a few rows and then went with mommy to go find a set of 3mm dpn’s which was another fun journey because Micheal’s didn’t have them, and the only yarn store here just recently had a fire on the second floor so that place was closed; but thankfully I managed to get some at wal-fart. Rejoicing I finished the pattern only for the bloomers to be too small... way too small... now I have never in my life had a problem with clothing not fitting a doll especially when the clothing is made specifically for the doll (including when I edit the patterns from straight to dpn’s) so I was a) baffled and b) annoyed because okay at this point my package should be out in the next few days and I still have a skirt, top and shoes to make but whatever, so he won’t have any bloomers unless I’m speedy with my next clothing items next!

I started the skirt, no problems making it and I whipped through it till the end only to fit it and oh... it’s too big. Now mind you, one part of the clothing pattern being to small and the other being too big when they’re both made on the same size needles and same width yarn is ??? I checked and the bloomers finish with 40sts and the skirt finishes with 70sts, which is even more weird because it’s the body so the fitting size should both be the same so around the same number of stitches should be obvious and this is such a weird gap in sizes but I digress. At this point, I knew that re-doing the bloomers and skirt is already going to take too much time from the due date I gave myself, plus I had my major doubts that anything was going to fit so I skipped the top and just decided to go with my own pattern. (I did make the shoes, but they look like crappy slippers though at this point I didn’t care so now he has a lovely pair of crap slippers on his feet. I love you Emmy but you get crap slippers.)

I made my own little dress, no hassle, fits perfectly, and away we go! I settled on only making a very simple dress because this needed to be shipped out a week ago (which no, it ended up being shipped a day after Emmy’s birthday when I wanted it to get there before her birthday :’(), which was disappointing because I really had my heart set on the outfit from the pattern but beggars can’t be choosers. I will have to make another bunny and re-make the clothes to see if I still have the same issue, or if it was just because I had a short amount of time to make something so the heavens came down and gave me a huge hassle just to be a dick. Never in my life have I ever had any troubles whatsoever with clothes fitting, to the point that I’ve often casually changed needle or yarn size and I have no problems at all... so of course the one time I have a small deadline I have to have problems with absolutely everything!!!

Anyways happy birthday Emmy sing all of that rant in the happy birthday tune :^) (mind you, all of that hassle is worth it for you ;o)

[knottymom]

Bubble Butt

Finally, another pattern!  I had almost forgotten I could do this.

OK, not really.  In reality I’ve felt terribly guilty for not writing anything up in forever.

This pattern was born partly out of a niggling desire to make a certain bubbly baby outfit on Ravelry paired with an utter unwillingness to pay $10 for a single pattern.  

Anyway.  I know how much people hate scrolling to get to recipes, so I won’t bore you much more.  My usual caveat applies here--I’m not a great knitter, so there’s always the chance I borked something up.  If you notice any glaring problems, message me on Ravelry, not here.

Picture!

Materials:

3.25 mm 16″ circular needle 

3.75 mm 16″ or 24″ circular needle

DPNs for one of those sizes; it doesn’t really matter which (for the ribbing on the cuffs)

100% wool yarn, worsted weight (I used Fisherman’s Wool from Lion Brand); if you don’t plan to use this as a soaker, material isn’t important, just weight, and this wool is a pretty light worsted

The usual array of stitch markers, yarn needle, etc  I use yarn to hold big piles of stitches, which you’re going to need to do at the legs.

Gauge: 5 sts/in on the bigger needles, stockinette in the round, but as Elizabeth Zimmermann says all babies are differently sized and this is aimed at a wide age range.

Size: up to 6 months at least, but keep in mind it’s going to be adorably oversized on a newborn  The waist is 16″ and so is the rise (when measured as given in pattern).  The idea behind such a large bit of ribbing at the start is for you to be able to fold it down.

Directions: (finally, right?!)

Cast on 80 stitches with smaller needles and work 10 rounds in knit 2/purl 2 ribbing.  

Eyelet round: Knit two, yarn over, purl two together around.

Rib 10 more rounds the same as before.

Now.  You can change this part up stupid easy.  You can leave out the eyelet round.  You can only knit 10 rounds total, or five.  You can do a different pattern in your ribbing, like knit 3, purl 1.

Change here to the larger needles.  Knit one round even.  

Increase round: knit one, knit front & back around.  (Or knit 2, make 1.  Whatever.  You’re just turning every two stitches into three.)  You should have 120 stitches at the end.

Continue on in dogged stockinette (I watched so much Netflix while knitting this) until your soaker measures 8″ from the eyelet round if you did the full 20 round ribbing.  If you did shorter ribbing, measure from the bottom of it.

Next, divide for the legs as such: 5 stitches on some sort of holder.  55 stitches on a long length of yarn, 5 stitches on another holder, the last 55 arrayed on DPNs (I sorted them on four needles with 15 on two and 10 on two).

The 5 stitch bundles are your crotch stitches.  Either Kitchener these together or simply work a 3-needle bind-off.  Your baby won’t care.  You can do it now or wait until the end, as I did.

Each cuff is done the same, like so, using the smaller DPNs if you’ve chosen to:

Decrease round: knit three stitches, reduce the next two however you please (knit 2 together, ssk, etc).  The goal is to end up with 44 stitches.

For the next 10 rounds, you will rib whatever suits you.  I used knit 3, purl 1 because for me it turns out about ten times cuter than the more usual k2, p2 ribbing.  At the end, bind-off using something super stretchy--either Elizabeth Zimmermann’s sewn bind-off (what you see here) or Jen’s Surprisingly Stretchy Bind-off or some other thing I’m not aware of.  You can also, obviously, shorten the ribbing here to just five or 8 rounds.

Finish off, weave in your ends, and make a drawstring of some sort.  There are tons of ways to do this--i-cord, braiding, crocheting two strands together, etc.  You do you; just make it longer than you think it needs to be.  I actually knitted my first-ever i-cord for this project, 3 stitches on the smaller needles, and as you can see it didn’t go well.  Weave the cord through the eyelets, and you are DONE!

[milkweedman]

last update! the samples dried very quickly, as i had cranked the heat up for them. i noticed that they had puffed up a little with washing and were bulky weight now. they were all soft (due to the mohair and the fact that this jacob was on the finer end of the range to begin with) and relatively compact despite being spun woolen. they were not very stretchy at all, again due to the mohair. i wound each sample into a small ball and knit them flat with 8mm needles.

SAMPLE A

the first picture is sample A, washed. the second picture is the same sample knit into a small stockinette swatch and pinned flat (but not blocked). there is definitely some distinct color sections here, which was a surprise. however, there is no white here at all, just dark brown, light brown, and gray.

SAMPLE B

again, the first picture is sample B, washed, and the second picture is it knit into a stockinette square and then pinned but not blocked. as predicted, it knit into fairly neat stripes of white and dark brown, with some gray where the two colors mixed during carding. the barberpoling was not particularly apparent.

SAMPLE C

the format of the pictures of sample C is the same as for A and B. this sample had much clearer colors than A, including the presence of some white. the color changes were more frequent and distinct, but also much more random than i thought they would be.

after knitting all the swatches, i measured their gauge (10 stitches = 4 inches/10 centimeters) and then unpinned and frogged the squares. while the flat swatches provided valuable information about the color changes and their lengths, they aren't a good representation of they might look like in a sock.

i wound the samples back into balls and then cast on 20 stitches on 8mm dpns. 20 stitches is the number i would need, at this gauge, for a sock for myself. i knit each sample in sequence into one circular swatch.

here is the front and back of the circular swatch. sample A is on top, B in the middle, and C at the bottom. this is a much more accurate representation of the samples.

sample A now shows stripes, instead of small wedges of color blocks.

sample B's stripes are much thinner now.

sample C remains random, with thin stripes on one side and a chaotic gradient on the other.

CONCLUSION:

sample A would make an interesting sock yarn, although the distinct colors are lost to blending.

sample B would make a very respectable striped sock yarn, albeit not a terribly interesting one. the presence of a third color might help in that regard.

sample C is inconclusive, in my mind. the preparation is worth attempting again, but with much more attention paid to avoiding barberpoling during plying. even as it is, however, it would make an interesting, though inconsistent, sock yarn.

the experiment has yielded some helpful information about lock placement on hand cards and how it affects the finished yarn. i will likely repeat it when my full fleece arrives (and once I've washed some of it), as the colors will likely be different. i will spin a finer yarn to make the most accurate possible test for appearance, and i will change the way i prepared samples A and C to see if i can improve the results. i think A would benefit from fewer lock color changes on the cards (perhaps 4 instead of 6) and sample C would benefit from more careful plying.

also, because i realized i left some words out in the very first paragraph of this: I'm using the remains of a partial fleece that i bought several years ago, in preparation for making a lot of socks out of a full, raw fleece that I'm getting soon. I'm experimenting on this old wool right now so that i lose less of the full fleece to experimentation when it arrives. jacob fleeces aren't very big and don't have a very high yield. the fleece I'm getting is only around 3 pounds (1.3 kilos) of raw unskirted fleece, so i will likely have less than 1.5 pounds (.65 kilos) of washed, usable wool, and i don't want to waste any of it if i can help it.

cool sock yarns from a Jacob fleece: an experiment

I'm using some jacob fleece that i bought a few years ago to see what kind of effects i can get in a 3 ply sock yarn just by using the natural colors. this is in preparation for getting a jacob fleece. all of these yarns are blended with a little mohair fleece, for strength.

SAMPLE A:

individual locks were laid down on the hand cards, alternating between white and dark brown. white mohair was then put on top of all of it. this was carded about 5 times--it took a while to blend the mohair in completely, and most of the definition between colors was lost in the processing. this was removed as a rolag and the process was repeated one more time, for a total of two rolags.

SAMPLE B:

this time the card was filled with one half white locks and one half brown locks, and again white mohair was added on top. this sample was also carded 5 times, before again being pulled off as 2 rolags. there was much less loss in color definition in this sample.

SAMPLE C:

this sample used a different technique: the cards were loaded with white locks and mohair and blended thoroughly, then removed from the cards as a small batt. the process was repeated with the brown locks. then strips of the batts were placed on the cards similarly to the setup of sample A: alternating colors in strips about as wide as 1 lock. this was done to mitigate the loss of color definition, as the mohair would already be blended in, and the final rolags would need fewer passes. indeed, these rolags only needed one pass. there is much clearer definition in this sample than in sample A, although a small amount was still lost. Unfortunately my phone camera decided to not save most of the pictures for this sample.

I'll update again with pictures of how they spun up (and then a knitted swatch at the end).

[dactyliin-blog]

Many of Spock’s earlier memories are of cool evenings spent on his mother’s lap, watching the swift, bright motion of aluminum needles as she knit. Amanda was an accomplished diplomat, an exemplary representative of the human race to Vulcan. However, she took a certain amount of pride in ensuring that both her husband and son were equipped with loose, thick sweaters, hats, and even mittens for their semiannual trips off-world. 

“It’s what your grandma would have called a labor of love,” Amanda explained when Spock reached the age when he thought to ask why she made the items of clothing when it would have been more practical (and, he carefully did not say, more aesthetically pleasing) to purchase or replicate what was needed. “I knit sweaters for you and your father because it’s how I let you know I care. When you wear them, it feels to me like you’re saying that you care as well. Does that make sense?”

It had, in fact, seemed extremely illogical at the time. Spock had said so, yet had not protested when Amanda began to teach him how to wield a pair of needles. His first project, a scarf, had been far from satisfactory, and yet Amanda had insisted on wearing it whenever she ventured out to visit the Vulcan marketplace. Intrigued by the difficulty of something that Spock felt ought to have been simple, he continued to learn what Amanda had to teach about different needles, yarn weights and materials, and various stitching methods. Spock found that the practice allowed for an increase in manual dexterity that served him well following his acceptance into Starfleet Academy.

Spock does not understand Amanda’s meaning until long after his graduation and appointment aboard the USS Enterprise. Indeed, it is 2.764 years into their five year mission before Spock looks up from installing a makeshift electrical grid into a crashed shuttlecraft, sees his captain, James Kirk, rubbing his arms to generate heat in the strange planet’s cool environment, and feels his fingers twitch. 

“I’m fine,” Jim says when Spock inquires as to the captain’s health. “Besides, you run hotter than I do. I should be worrying about you, Mr. Spock.” Jim’s gaze brushes over Spock’s person. He smiles, his eyes seeming to soften when they meet Spock’s again. Since Pon Farr, there has been an understanding between them- no words spoken, nothing discernibly changed, and yet...

Merino wool, Spock thinks wildly. Worsted, and dyed a shade of blue to match Jim’s eyes. 

Spock had purchased several skeins of yarn in just such a shade only weeks prior, though the reason behind his preference for the color had eluded even him at the time, and stored them in a cabinet separate from his small cache of knitting supplies.

Following their rescue and Dr. McCoy’s reluctant agreement to release them from his medical care, Spock adjourns to his quarters on the pretext of needing to meditate. Spock removes the yarn from its cabinet, selects a pair of circular needles, and begins to knit.

Jim finds him there several hours later. He does not knock on the door to Spock’s quarters, but enters unannounced and throws himself, Kirk-like, onto the low couch that Spock is seated before. He has made this a habit: walking into Spock’s quarters post-mission, often to request a game of chess or to simply nap among the cushions that are arranged throughout the living area.

“What are you making,” Jim says after a long moment of silence. He is not looking at Spock- in fact, has one arm thrown over his face, yellow sleeve obscuring any possibility of visual contact. 

“An item of clothing,” Spock says. 

“I didn’t know you knit,” Jim says. He kicks his boots off of his feet one at a time over the arm of the couch. He turns so that he is on his side, facing toward Spock. 

“My mother,” Spock says. “I acquired the skill from her when I was young. She took particular care to ensure that both my father and I were adequately clothed.” As they speak, Spock continues to work the yarn over the knitting needles. The metal tools rasp against each other. 

Jim says, “Your human mother.”

“My only mother,” Spock says. Jim laughs. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about her before,” Jim says. “Her, or Sarek. Until they were on my ship.”

“Vulcans are typically considered to be a secretive species,” Spock says. He pulls at the significant length of material that has begun to hang from the needles. 

“Yes,” Jim says. “I know. But-” he sits up and slides off of the couch to join Spock on his meditation mat. Spock raises one eyebrow.

“This is going to be emotional,” Jim says. “Fair warning.”

Spock raises his other eyebrow, and sets his needles aside.

“I feel like I know you better than I know my own family,” Jim says after a moment. “We work together, fight together, play chess together- we practically live in each others pockets. I feel like we belong to each other. And then there are some days, like today, when we get stranded on an ice planet and have to huddle together for warmth, and I think maybe- maybe-” Jim shakes his head. “And then we get back up here, and you disappear and when I find you I find out that you knit. Or I find out that you have a human mom. Or I find out that you’ve actually got a wife, who literally tries to murder you in the divorce.”

“Jim-”

“What I’m saying,” Jim says, “is that I’m really tired of not being in the loop with you. And I would like to be. In the loop. And also in your bed, just to be clear. I’m saying that I’m in love with you in the worst way imaginable. Oh, God.”

Jim lifts his hands to cover his face. He scrubs his palms over his cheeks once, twice, and then lowers them to regard Spock steadily. 

“T’Pring was not my wife,” Spock says. Jim groans. Spock pushes on. 

“Jim,” he says. “Today I remembered a saying that my mother uses often- that her work was a labor of love. A way to express that which cannot be spoken. That which- perhaps- has gone unspoken for far too long.”

“Oh,” Jim says. “Oh.” He glances down at the haphazard pile of yarn at Spock’s side. 

“I would very much like to share my bed with you as well, Jim,” Spock says. He is summarily unprepared for Jim to throw himself into Spock’s arms. 

Some weeks later, Spock presents the finished sweater to Jim, who insists on wearing it throughout the day- even over his uniform while on the bridge. It is wholly illogical, and yet Spock finds himself pleased at the sight of Jim, in his captain’s chair, curling his fingers into long, soft sleeves.

[so-very-small]

So, I was knitting a while ago and of course my thoughts wandered to g/t, because for ages I’ve been trying to figure out how I could knit as a tiny, and that lead to thinking about how other crafts would work out in a g/t setting. (Note that these are all from a tiny’s perspective because that’s just how I think, but I’m working on a similar list for giants that I’ll probably add later ^^)

Knitting would actually be pretty easy? Depending on your size thread could be the relative size of yarn for beans, and knitting needles could be carved out of twigs and sanded down to make them smooth (straight needles and dpn’s, circular ones would take a bit more tweaking). The only major problem I’d see is getting the needles the proper size to work with the yarn (too large/small causes too loose/tight knitting respectively), but that could be figured out with some test swatches while sizing the needles. Also: you could probably easily carve a crochet hook if crochet is more up your alley.

Painting would be super interesting. Assuming you have the means to press flowers, you can easily dry out some white flowers and use them as canvases! They may be a tad delicate, but with scaling down strengths I imagine they wouldn’t give tinies too much trouble. As for paints, one could crush up various kinds of berries for different shades. Maybe even diluting them with water, and then layering them to make it appear lighter/darker? For brushes, animal fur tied about the end of a stick and cut at the end works. (I’ve seen regular sized people even use their own hair for art, if you wanna do that).

Makeup would actually be fairly easy! (And makeup totally counts as an art, I will fite). Back before we had the means to make modern day medicine, a lot of older cultures simply used crushed up berries to tint their lips. Given that lip stains can also be used to give color to cheeks, you got lipstick and blush right there. Assuming your careful, you could probably use some berry-juice-stain to tint your eyelids. If you can get your hands on spices and they’re fine enough of a powder to apply, you can use cinnamon or similar colored spices as contour powder or to fill in your eyebrows. And if you can get coconut oil and mix it with a tad bit of your spices, you got eyeliner! (I’m pulling all of this from memory and internet recipes btw, if you intend to use any of this irl I’d probably recommend reading up on recipes/warnings first).

Culinary arts would be a bit tricky. I imagine cooking would be wonderful, provided you had a safe place to make a fire, and a place to “borrow” ingredients/spices from. Plus, given that tinies are small enough to eat things like bug meat, minuscule fish, and other things along those lines, they could make some pretty damn neat new recipes. Baking would be a bit more tricky because it’s less art and more science; there’s more leeway than one would think but absence of things like baking powder/soda or proper amounts of flour or a oven-setup that can bake things consistently, that can break a recipe. I think baking as a small is definitely possible, but would take a ton of planning to get the right things, and a lot of experimentation to nail down recipe ratios and baking times.

From a few quick google searches, it seems relatively easy to make a simple clay. Flour and salt, or glue and cornstarch, or baking soda and cornstarch, any of those combos added to various ratios of oil or water. I imagine substituting dirt might work? It all depends on the objects you can get a hold of, but if one does get kitchen-grade ingredients they can easily shape some tiny-sized mugs and plates. (Wouldn’t recommend it with the dirt clay, imho). Honestly I don’t know much about pottery, as in what you can and cannot make without access to certain tools/a pottery wheel, but I imagine someone well versed in pottery could find ways to keep their art going as a tiny.

This topic has been on my mind for days, different expressions of creativity is super important to me and I doubt that’d change as a tiny. If you have any related ideas, feel free to add on, I’d love to hear em ^^

[udemy-gift-coupon-blog]

Knitting 101 | Beginners Guide to Knitting ##FreeCourse ##UdemyFreeCoupon #Beginners #Guide #Knitting Knitting 101 | Beginners Guide to Knitting In this course I will take you on a journey from beginner knitter to someone who understands knitting terms and can follow a pattern and create new pieces.  Learn how to knit  with easy to follow videos and exercises. No experience required! Have you ever wanted to learn to knit? This is a fun and full course that was designed for you in mind. Knitting 101 is for Beginners and is a self paced course. Designed to guide novice students on how to get started Knitting. This course starts right at the beginning. By understanding the tools and techniques needed to start knitting today. You will learn all my top tips and tricks as well as be guided though multiple patterns using the basic knit and purl stitches.  How to make a scarf, how to change colors, how to knit in the round, I teach more advances stitches And so much more. This course also contains practical exercises, all the resources terms, patterns and demonstration lectures.  Which you can follow along at your own pace, and share your final projects in the Q and A section if you wish. In this course we use 2 sizes of knitting needles, Recommended for Beginners, Big needles, US size 11 -17 mm range Also Needles that are small US size 3-7 mm… range. 2 sizes of yarn,  sizes  5-7 Bulky- jumbo recommended for beginners, 2-3 light for final project. a tapestry needle a pair of sizzlers, Circular needles, crochet hooks, (to fix mistakes) and stuffing for the final Project. Each section builds upon the last. Accompanied with practical exercises for you to download. The course consists of over Four hours of video content. Segmented into 35+ modules. Plus, as a lifetime student you have the opportunity to request new topics. At no extra cost to you. Have Questions? No problem. This course has a dedicated Q&A section where you can post your questions. Ask for some feedback. Or share your results from the course. I will reply to questions within this course, and would love to hear if there is anything I can do better as well. So, if you have ever wanted to learn to knit, but did not know where to begin. This course is for you. Come join and we will begin this journey together. Who this knitting course is for: This knitting course is ideal for anyone who wishes to learn how to knit. Even if you have never had any skills crafting before, this highly structured course, can teach you the fundamentals to developing your Knitting skills and give you the tools to succeed This course may NOT be suitable for someone already an advanced Knitter. The basic patterns I teach in this course that involve the Knit + Purl stitches Include: The Garter stitch• The Stockinette Stitch • The Sand Knit Stitch • The Seed Stitch • The 1x1 Rib Stitch and • the Moss Rib Knit Stitch I have more that I plan to cover in later videos as well. Each of these you can learn and add as a piece to your blanket. I share a glossary of terms and Abbreviations you might run into. And let you know everything I use for this course. Who this course is for: Creative People who want to learn a new Craft 👉 Activate Udemy Coupon 👈 Free Tutorials Udemy Review Real Discount Udemy Free Courses Udemy Coupon Udemy Francais Coupon Udemy gratuit Coursera and Edx ELearningFree Course Free Online Training Udemy Udemy Free Coupons Udemy Free Discount Coupons Udemy Online Course Udemy Online Training 100% FREE Udemy Discount Coupons https://www.couponudemy.com/blog/knitting-101-beginners-guide-to-knitting/

[littlewalken]

Aug 13

The new yarn, Lion shawl in a cake ‘half moon’. Almost bought a ‘troll’ in the whatever the cakes at Walmart are, it has similar colors but not quite the same. I went with two because the ‘jade pool’ isn’t that long and I want something longer.

Got myself a nice 36″ long circular needle. Initial string stimming was wanting to use the mushroom and forest from Lion (or it’s Deborah Norville) and the Red Heart mushroom in something with owl cables. There’s a crochet version of owl cables too posted by Jessie At Home, it asks not to repost, but if you find it you don’t have to do the front or back post things to make it work, just the crossing of the DC and you’ll have the owls on either side. 

Cable bunnies have to be similar to owls just keep doing the cable cross for a few more rows. Will try it eventually as I have a yarn I’d like to use for cable bunnies.

It feels like I’m reaching a point where I’ll want to do some tidying and rearranging of stuff in my room. Might do some drawing today. 

Finished the first section of Andrew Robinson’s memoir. ~insert clip of Dr Basjir saying “Oh. my God” when his parents arrive on the station during ‘Our Man Bashir’.~ There’s no try not to cry, there’s just crying. Unless you have a neurological difference which makes it difficult. 

A clip of Leonard Bernstein playing the adagio and finale of Rhapsody in Blue yes, a book of OMFG that’s why that’s in A Stitch In Time you’re safe now would you like to have some ice cream? no. Maybe later but...

If you dent the right place in your frontal lobe you won’t have to worry about pesky emotions again children. Aim for the right eye socket in a slightly upward motion. Taking an anticonvulsant soon after is optional, you can drop the weight when you’re done. 

Why the hell am I in Blue Diamond’s court when obviously I’ll get along better in White’s? 

My memoir would start off with a carefully repressed and forgotten childhood where feelings that it was my fault I was even born were bulldozed in to me when I went from an only child to being replaced by a favored half sister. I have decided that my real life began on the day of my brain injury and most of the shit that happened before didn’t count. I certainly didn’t. And I have a learning challenge when it comes to math. For some reason the bullying and emotional abuse in middle school was better than what I felt home was like until the day I dropped out because I was gun access away from becoming one of those kids who shot their family and then their school. I had worn the same threadbare clothes since the fifth grade and couldn’t get a backpack with two working straps for months but there was money for my sister to do beauty pageants. There was no one or nothing in particular that kept me going for a few years but I’ll just say I discovered the music of The Cure and finally started taking community college courses in an attempt to educate myself to a better life. Then I lost a battle with gravity. It would be nearly 25 years after that I’d learn I have had iron deficient anemia but like everyone else in my life the doctors I’ve seen have been pretty shitty.

That’s why I’m in Blue Diamond’s court, Lapis Lazuli is my girl. Someone sends out a depression wave, I’ve felt worse. 

I’ve felt better too. That’s why I consider the day of my brain injury when my life began because it changed my brain just enough to stop the OCD train I was riding on. My car just joined the anxiety train but before that I would get locked in to thoughts I literally couldn’t get out of. 

And there’s enough German in me that fu#k yeah I am rejoicing that my sister who did beauty pageants is now fat, has bad teeth, and generally looks like shit. She was so coddled and had so many excuses made for her she can’t even daily life. All I really can’t do is drive. 

[exaltcdone]

multiples of 4 !!!

⇏ hardmode character development meme △ @pekkt △ accepting!

4. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

ljdhjdfhgfjhg lint probably this is a hard one. brighid is probably more of a Bag Woman rather than a pocket one ie she has a bag that she carries with her everywhere. probably one she made herself. she comes from a time that used bags or sacks to hold stuff more than pockets. anyway inside that bag is probably…..i want to say a travel tea mug in either solid red or a cutesy pattern, like this tsum tsum one. she would also have a water bottle ( Stay Hydrated™, ) aspirin, otc stomach meds, lots of Grandma Candy like cinnamon disks and cinnamon mentos, lip balm, knitting needles ( esp circular ones ) / a crochet hook and a half-used ball of yarn and probably small Extraneous Knitting Stuff like a stitch counter, stitch markers and notions. So Many Notions. also definitely multiple loose bags of tea, especially of the spiced / cinnamon variety.

8. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

not really. i think it’s different in the terms of the way the status appears, obejectively rather than what it actually is. for example, modern brighid is probably more upper-middle class / comfortable whereas in ancient celtic ireland she probably would have been seen as rich, because she was a goddess who could do whatever she wanted. and wealth in celtic ireland was more ‘I Have More Cows Than You And I Am Wearing Eight ( 8 ) Gold Torcs On My Neck Right Now Currently, Fuck With Me’ rather than ‘i have a sweet ass electric car and my house is paid for.’

12. Is your character bothered by the sight of blood? If so, in what way?

not at all. being a healing goddess means that blood is Nothing On Her. plus i really really feel like modern brighid is ( or was, she probably could get away with retiring at this point ) some sort of medic, and it . would not serve a medic well to be squicked out by blood. 

16. What was your character’s favorite toy as a child?

i don’t really think young brighid….played with toys as a Young Divine. for openers, she grew up ( presumably ) alongside the other children of the dagda Up In The Heavens or wherever. she’s a very hands-on person, so i think her sort of play was more Fake Doctor or Fake Mom. she was definitely more of the Wander Off and Talk To The Cows type overall though.

20. If something tragic or negative happens to your character, do they believe they may have caused or deserved it, or are they quick to blame others?

i think brighid would probably blame herself. she’s very used to taking responsibility as a mom and a healer and overall being….responsible in her correspondences and such. if a hearth goes up in flames while you’re tending to it, there’s nobody to blame but you.

24. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

pretty slow. usually because of what i just said in the above bullet, but also because brighid is very much a Live and Let Live person and is reluctant to judge anyone for their behaviour or choices. she will probably ask you offhandedly and persist once, twice if she’s very worried, and then leave the subject be and forget. ( ex. ‘hey did you move my yarn? / ‘no i thought you had it.’ / ‘are you sure?’ / ‘yea i’ve been at work.’ / ‘but you’ve been home for an hour now.’ / ‘nope.’ / ‘¯\_( :-/ )_/¯ all right!’ )

28. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

i don’t think brighid really . dreamt of becoming anything as a kid? i think she was raised alongside what she would be doing as an adult and Embraced It. 

32. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

brighid hates criticism. she may respond well to kindly phrased commentary and be like ‘oh all right! i’ll keep that in mind’ or whateva and see it as another perspective to help push whatever she’s doing in new directions. but if you’re less nice about it, brighid will probably get defencive and possibly even lose her temper if you keep at it. i think she goes thru all three: she’s probably immediately self-deprecating, because brighid’s first instinct in almost any situation is to look inward, and then she will React by getting defencive, usually inwardly, because she’s hurt, and then go away from the situation like ‘yea :-// i guess they were right i need to improve at ____.’

36. Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

probably defending her honour in the sense of defending her moral codes and her own Core Values. 

40. Does your character feel that they deserve to have what they want, whether it be material or abstract, or do they feel they must earn it first?

i think she feels as though she needs to earn it, because of the time period she comes from. but some of that has shifted because of her impulse-shopping problem. i don’t know i think i have to come back to this one, brighid is still new. 

44. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

i don’t know that she’s considered that possibility? brighid is a goddess and i think gods can die, in the sense of losing worshipers, but i don’t think any of them Literally Die in the sense of Perish Physically and Cease To Exist. so .