#pink aisle podcast

[pinkaislepodcast]

Behind the Barbie -The Ruth Handler Story Part 2

This week, we continue to explore the life of Ruth Handler, the creator of Barbie, as we specifically discuss the process she went through in the creation of the doll. A process that included Japanese war criminals, unscrupulous business deals, and a shockingly horny psychologist. How was Barbie able to succeed in these strange and challenging circumstances? Listen and find out!

Listen to Part 1 Here

Listen on Itunes | Listen on Google Play | Listen on Spotify

Like what you heard? Be sure to rate us on your podcast platform of choice, and follow us at @pinkaislepodcast on Tumblr or  @PinkAislePod on Twitter. You can also reach out to us personally at pinkaislepod@gmail.com or support the show at patreon.com/henrykathman

Works Cited

“Barbie Doll Vintage Clothes Identified 1959.” Doll Reference, 2004, www.dollreference.com/barbie_clothes1959.html. Accessed 23 June 2023. Gerber, Robin. Barbie and Ruth: The Story of the World's Most Famous Doll and the Woman Who Created Her. United States, HarperCollins, 2009. Kershaw, Sarah. “Ruth Handler, Whose Barbie Gave Dolls Curves, Dies at 85.” The New York Times, 29 Apr. 2002, www.nytimes.com/2002/04/29/arts/ruth-handler-whose-barbie-gave-dolls-curves-dies-at-85.html. Lepore, Jill. “When Barbie Went to War with Bratz.” The New Yorker, Condé Nast, Advance Publications, 15 Jan. 2018, www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/01/22/when-barbie-went-to-war-with-bratz. Lindsey, Robert. “A Million‐Dollar Business from a Mastectomy.” The New York Times, 19 June 1977, www.nytimes.com/1977/06/19/archives/a-milliondollar-business-from-a-mastectomy.html. Accessed 23 June 2023. “MISS SAIGON" 1996 GERMANY CONVENTION BARBIE by ROBERT WEININGER | #497781847.” Worthpoint, WorthPoint Corporation , www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/miss-saigon-1996-germany-convention-497781847. Accessed 23 June 2023. Moore, Andrew. “Hedonism.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Stanford University, 17 Oct. 2013, plato.stanford.edu/entries/hedonism/. Rainey, Clint. “A Horrific Environmental Disaster Is Happening in Ohio, and You May Not Even Have Heard about It.” Fast Company, Mansueto Ventures, LLC, 10 Feb. 2023, www.fastcompany.com/90848025/ohio-train-derailment-toxic-chemicals-pvc-spill-fire-disaster. Slater, Lee. Barbie Developer: Ruth Handler. United States, Abdo Publishing, 2016. Touvila, Alicia. “Bill-And-Hold Basis.” Investopedia, Dotdash Meredith , 18 Mar. 2023, www.investopedia.com/terms/b/buy_and_hold_basis.asp. Turner, Christopher. “The Hidden Persuader.” Cabinet, vol. 1, no. 44, 2011. Reading Design, www.readingdesign.org/hidden-persuader. Accessed 23 June 2023. “Vinyl Chloride - Cancer-Causing Substances - National Cancer Institute.” Www.cancer.gov, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, 20 Mar. 2015, www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/causes-prevention/risk/substances/vinyl-chloride#:~:text=Which%20cancers%20are%20associated%20with. Wong, Mia, and Robert Evans. Part One: The Slavery Loving Fascist Who Built Modern Japan. Coolzone Media, 21 Sept. 2021, www.iheart.com/podcast/105-behind-the-bastards-29236323/episode/part-one-the-slavery-loving-fascist-87145628/, disc 1/3. Podcast.

[vintagerpg]

Coming at you straight from the Pink Aisle! This week on the Vintage RPG Podcast, we chat with Megan Dawson Jaffe about the new Nerdy City RPG Holomatixx: A New Wave Order. Spinning out of their other Omni System games like the kid adventure Rememorex and the game of transforming robots, Commandroids, Holomatixx takes on pop star superheroes in the vein of Jem and Holograms and Barbie and the Rockers. On Kickstarter now!

[thinplacesradio]

two shopping carts discarded on their sides in the grass beside a parking lot, the grate of a storm drain visible in front of them. the greens, pinks, and blues of the image are heightened. the image is distorted by VCR static. white text reads:

[027] THE LONG DISTANCE. A CALLER ASKS FOR RELATIONSHIP ADVICE. THE HOST GETS GROCERIES.

listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:

[static, radio tuning]

[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]

[click]

Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,

and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.

[Thin Places theme] 

I’m coming to you solo from my studio, which is what I like to call this closed-for-the-night grocery store, lit only by the white pulse of the fridges, and the strip of lights along the back wall of the store. I was trying to find that bowling alley again, and I know that this is the same town, but the bowling alley is gone, like it never existed. 

I know it did, though. It meant something to me while I was there. 

It’s strange to see the grocery store like this, shelves hulking and dark and rising up around me as I pass through the aisles. It’s strange to see it like this, which means that even though I can’t remember going grocery shopping in my old life, because there must have been an old life, I must have gone, and it must have been during the day, surrounded by the bustle of other people. Other people. Other people, huh. [laughs] No.

It’s always more fun to go grocery shopping with somebody else, tossing things in the cart and taking them back out, and joking about the names of the brands, and talking about your days. There’s nobody with me now, but there’s somebody a few aisles back. I’ve been hearing them follow me for the last half hour as I pick out what food I’m going to take back to my car. 

I’m sure I’ll see them when I reach the last aisle. But now that I’m looking, there are three aisles left in front of me, before the cold glow of the dairy section. There have been three aisles in front of me, before I reach the cold glow of the dairy section, for the last half hour. But here’s the thing. I’m dying for some cheddar. 

So… what is Thin Places Radio? Well, you can call in about anything strange that you’ve got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings.

Is this place cursed, or are you cursed in this place? 

Have you fallen in love with the universe? 

Are you looking for a friend? 

When the veil between worlds is thin, we get closer than ever to the strange and the unexplained - but also to each other. Call in, get it off your chest. Lines are open.

[click] [voicemail:]

Hi here. I know you normally don't do romance advice or, you know, couple advice, but this one might be just a little bit more up your alley? Uh, you see the relationship I'm in is with an entity that’s a cosmic entity the size of a galaxy. Yeah. It's a little weird but it actually works out pretty well. We communicate through telepathy, and they actually contacted me years ago, and they've been helping me out ever since. And we've really become close. They're great, but sometimes I feel like, because they're so different, that I can't show the same support they give me. They never complain, but it's more of a personal thing. So when it comes to someone very different, especially in a long-distance relationships like ours, how can I show my support for them?

[click] 

You’re right, caller, your question is a little bit outside of my wheelhouse. I don’t remember exactly who I’ve loved, or exactly how. I don’t remember what it feels like to be loved, but I remember what it feels like to love. I must. I can feel the ghost of it. [eerie, curious music] There are people I miss, even if I don’t know why. I do miss them. I - I miss my mom, I think. 

But I’ll try my best here, for your sake. You’re missing things, too - someone to go to the grocery store with. Someone to touch. That specific someone, a world unto themselves. I’m glad you’re not asking me a question I can’t answer - will it last? How long will you have with them? None of us ever have as much time as we think we do. It’s sweet that you’re spending yours thinking about how to give back the love and support that you receive. 

But, why do you think that just being yourself isn’t enough, caller? Just speaking to them makes you feel supported. Maybe speaking to you makes them feel the same way. Or maybe they don’t need to feel supported - maybe you give them something else they do need. Groundedness. A personal touch. A reminder that there’s somebody out there in the vast void of existence. A way to pour their love out so they don’t have to keep it all to themselves. 

But my best advice is to stop guessing. If you don’t know what they need? Ask them. It’s the one luxury you’ve got. 

[click]

[music playing] [cart wheels spinning] [overhead announcement from the Traveling Sales Rep:] Don’t miss our sale on hagfish slime. It’s a great deal, we’re practically giving it away. Please take some. It won’t stop spreading. Freakishly fast. Related to that, can we get someone to clean up aisles 6, 7, 8, and 9? And 10? Don’t miss that slime, and don’t make me go in there. Please.] 

Who was that? 

[click] 

The dairy section remains 3 aisles ahead of me, but I’ve fashioned a kind of pulley system out of materials I found in the pantry, baking, and cleaning aisles. I think that if I throw this part kind of like a lasso -

[clanging] [dragging]

Okay, no, hold on -

[clanging, dragging] 

No, let me just -

Haha! Yes! F**k yeah! We’re having a good night after all, folks. And all by ourselves, too. [pause] Kind of, there's that - I think there's someone trapped in that hagfish slime? I’ll go look on my way out. 

[click]

Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do. As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That’s 717.382.8093. Until next time. I’ll be here.

[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: the - road - provides - the - road - provides -]

Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of Your Host is Kristen O’Neal.

Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by a mystery caller. The sound FX, music, and voice of our Travelling Sales Rep are by Miles Morkri. Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme and Unearthed, by Miles Morkri. If you have a question to ask, a story to tell, or a suggestion for the host, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.

[Thin Places Theme outro]

[winderlylandchime]

Thanks for the tag @lostcol ty bb

name: Aj

age: 42

favorite season: it is specifically northeast us fall but since I don’t live there anymore it is spring for seasonal depression reasons

movies or tv shows? tv shows because i’m a greedy bitch

do you carry a bag/purse? what kind? I have a big shoulder bag for work, a few small purses and a belt bag that I wear across my chest for going out, and endless tote bags. one thing about me is I love a bag.

what color is your water bottle? I have several: pink, turquoise, white, cream, and a ombre blue fading into pink in a very trans way, and black. one thing about me is I love a water bottle

what color is your phone case? the colors of fanart of angel!crowley holding his wing over aziraphale

do you sleep in silence or do you need white noise/sounds/music? I cannot sleep with silence, I need to have a podcast, a music, or tv on. (something I’ve listened to or seen a million times)

top sheets. yes or no? yes, top sheet plus weighted blanket is the magic combination

you're in the candy aisle at the corner store, what are you grabbing? gummy something, especially if I’m writing

preferred mode of travel (plane/train/car/bus/on foot/etc.): ideally? foot or train/subway. where I actually live? driving

what's your phone background right now? gos2 poster

are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? I love a tidy and clean space but I also love to collect things (see above re: bags, water bottles), I contain multitudes and all

it's time to paint your bedroom! what color are you choosing? a medium velvety gray, if I had to choose right now. I don’t hate the accent wall I have painted in my room now which is an apple green

and finally, tell me something that brings you joy: waking up before everyone in the morning and scrolling/reading and sipping coffee in bed while two dogs and one person snore

no pressure tagging: @bishybarnaby @earlgrey-lateatnight @eliooliver83

[mr-divabetic]

Country music's brightest star, Maren Morris inspires us to stay strong as we face the challenges of living with diabetes during the coronavirus pandemic. 

[npdclaraoswald]

Totally forgot about this post (and this podcast) until somebody liked it today, and I got curious and looked it up; there has been an update covering Lost Birthday; Big City, Big Dreams; Mermaid Power; Epic Road Trip; and Big Babysitting Adventure! Listening to it now and will update if there's anything that changes my review.

Although update on the podcasts I recommend: Barbie Movies Slap is now up to Diamond Castle, but they also haven't uploaded in 6 months. Idk if they plan to continue or not. But The Pink Aisle is another great Barbie podcast I've found in the meantime and they've covered all of the movies, including Barbie (2023)

Pros and cons of listening to the 18 hour Barbie podcast (It's called Cult Popture, the episode is from February of 2021, so pretty far back in their feed):

Pros

They don't have any nostalgia clouding their judgment, so they're not unfairly harsh on the new movies

In fact, they're pretty balanced because one of them ends up liking the classics more and the other likes the modern movies more

They give at least a cursory mention of the bigotry that appears in several films ie the antisemitism in Swan Lake and racism in Puppy Chase

They give a fair amount of background information on the 80s movies and the My Scene movies even though they don't cover them. Actually the most information I've heard about these movies

Acknowledgement that Barbie is genuinely at least trying to impart positive and encouraging messages to young audiences and she isn't just the bad body image figure she's often made out to be

Cons

They don't actually like Barbie. While they do give the movies all a fair shot and a lot of leniency for being direct to dvd kids movies, they're still clearly not enthused about watching all of them

Those nods to the bigotry mostly come from reading imdb comments about it, not them picking it up on their own. They also don't acknowledge the ableism at all

They try to spend only about 20 minutes on each movie, which includes talking about the rotten tomatoes scores, the imdb reviews and trivia, and the associated dolls, so for a lot of movies they don't give in depth reviews and just blow past them

An uncomfortable amount of jokes about jerking off to Barbie

They don't watch any of the shows and only 3 or 4 of the vlogs

Overall, I'd say listening to Barbie Movies Slap or Put a Shrimp On It is more rewarding, but Put a Shrimp On It is on indefinite hiatus and Barbie Movies Slap is only up to Mariposa, so if you want to hear about every movie (up to Princess Adventure at least, Lost Birthday and Big City, Big Dreams weren't out yet when they recorded), it is there and balances out to being pretty funny and engaging

[henrykathman]

This week, the Pink Aisle is going to be doing something a little different, as Henry shares the history of Bild Lilli, the German Pinup Doll that Barbie was inspired by.

Though how much of this was inspiration or theft? That is what we will discuss alongside the troublesome history of its parent newspaper, the difference between empowerment and voyeurism, and how Lilli continues to affect the world of Barbie today.

Listen on Itunes | Listen on Google Play | Listen on Spotify

Sources Below

“Barbie Timeline.” Barbie, Mattel, http://www.barbiemedia.com/timeline.html.

“Bild Lilli Archive.” Bild-Lilli, Styleshout, https://bild-lilli.com/.

Broder Keil, Lars. “From Comic Strip Darling to Superstar.” Axel Springer SE, https://www.axelspringer.com/en/inside/from-comic-strip-darling-to-superstar.

“Lilli - Ein Mädchen Aus Der Großstadt.” IMDb, IMDb.com, 6 Mar. 1958, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051865/.

Meaney, Thomas. “Bild, Merkel and the Culture Wars: The inside Story of Germany's Biggest Tabloid.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 16 July 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/jul/16/bild-zeitung-tabloid-julian-reichelt-angela-merkel-germany.

Smith, Ben. “At Axel Springer, Politico's New Owner, Allegations of Sex, Lies and a Secret Payment.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 17 Oct. 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/17/business/media/axel-springer-bild-julian-reichelt.html.

[genkigirlenthusiast]

Can anyone recommend podcasts like The Pink Aisle by @henrykathman ? Podcasts that discuss nostalgic kids media or other franchises marketed to girls (so, like Monster High, brats, my scene, tinker bell/pixie hollow stuff. Obviously these things aren’t only for girls but hopefully you know why I mean by marketed to little girls) from an adult perspective?

[henrysgeekymind]

After being behind in the last episode, we're back on schedule with 'Barbie and the Diamond Castle,' a surprisingly wholesome and character-driven story filled with girls being friends, just gals being pals. Of course, the movie with some of the most compelling protagonists are paired up with the worst love interests, so make of that what you will.

Listen on Itunes

Listen on Google Play

Listen on Spotify

Like what you heard? Be sure to rate us on your podcast platform of choice, and follow us @PinkAislePod on twitter.

The Pink Aisle is hosted by Emma Corry and Henry Kathman

Emma is a writer for the student newspaper The Shield, at the University of Southern Indiana, read her stuff at https://usishield.com/staff/?writer=Emma%20Corry

Henry does a whole lot of stuff on the internet, but most notably his youtube channel at youtube.com/henrykathman and his patreon at patreon.com/Henrykathman. You can also find him on his twitter @KathmanHenry, or his portfolio website henrykathman.tumblr.com.

Our theme music is Dolls by 9muses. If you are a musician interested in using one of your songs for the show, please DM us on our twitter.

[siriusist]

Name: Lauren Age: OLD NOW AND MY BIRTHDAY’S COMING UP UGH (29) Favorite Season: Autumn/Winter Movies or TV shows? Depends. Do you carry a bag/purse? What kind? Backpack for work, tote bag for everything else (I’ve got a neon one, as well as a Lush tote bag- It’s been ages since I’ve bought something from Lush, but they’re the only place that gives a tote bag with thick straps that has a perfect drop that won’t break). What color is your water bottle? Pink. What color is your phone case? Black. Do you sleep in silence or do you need white noise/sounds/music? I need to fall asleep to a podcast or music- I wear little earbuds to sleep. Top sheets. Yes or no? No. You're in the candy aisle at the corner store, what are you grabbing? Peach rings. Preferred mode of travel (plane/train/car/bus/on foot/etc.): I love driving, but I’ve been walking for most of my life. I also like a leisurely train ride. What's your phone background right now? A minimalist mountain range and a reminder to “Put down your phone and pick up your life.” Are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? A cozy minimalist. I don’t like unnecessary clutter. It's time to paint your bedroom! What color are you choosing? I like soft greys. And finally, tell me something that brings you joy: Podcasts, true crime episodes, history episodes, long walks/ exercise, plants, reading, the library, coffees and good brunch. Slow living. <3

@carmybcrzatto tagged me to do this fun game!

thank you eileen! 💕

Name: kinga

Age: 25 but i refuse to believe that

Favorite Season: autumn 🍁🎃👻

Movies or TV shows? it really depends on my mood, but i usually go for tv shows

Do you carry a bag/purse? What kind? i love my tote bag, but i also like to carry a shopping bag or a smaller bag, depending on the occasion

What color is your water bottle? navy blue

What color is your phone case? different shades of green

Do you sleep in silence or do you need white noise/sounds/music? silence

Top sheets. Yes or no? no

You're in the candy aisle at the corner store, what are you grabbing? sour jellies

Preferred mode of travel (plane/train/car/bus/on foot/etc.): car, but when i'm exploring a new place i prefer to walk

What's your phone background right now? a photo of a palm tree i took back in may in southampton 🌴

Are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? minimalist

It's time to paint your bedroom! What color are you choosing? sage green (i've already painted my room this color and i wouldn't change it, it's so pretty!)

And finally, tell me something that brings you joy: buying and reading books, watching true crime docuseries and listening to my favourite podcast

tagging: @camilepreaker, @chandlerblingss, @thewistfulmuse, @jckeperalta, @hellshee, @currahee, @nynazenik, @ronanlysnch, @targaryeirene, @ronandreams, @joequinns

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Hi!!!

I know some other authors on here are open for random asks sometimes and I had a question that I wanted to run past you since you’re classy (but like, in a neat way, not a bitchy one?) and understand fashion and also seem to get romance and how to make things special for people.

I’m, uh, engaged? And I’m a bit out of sorts about what to do next because I’m queer and pretty disconnected from the traditions of my family in terms of religion and ceremony so I was wondering if you had suggestions on where to start or how to find an outfit that I want to walk down the proverbial aisle in because you seem like the type to have good opinions about that sort of thing

hello anon and thank you for thinking i am classy and understand romance.

i assure you, i really do not, and im just bumbling along like the rest of us.

BUT. re: weddings and attire for you (p.s. congratulations), Sophia Bush recently got married in a dressed with orange/pink flowers all over it (pictures here, i am obsessed); tracee ellis ross (fucking QUEEN, in this dissertation i will--) has a great excerpt of a podcast where she talks about getting married in a mermaid style gown and changing into a pantsuit for the reception; my two friends got married this past winter and one wife wore a burgundy evening gown with a faux-fur wrap, and the other wife wore a full ass three piece suit and saddle shoes. one of my best friends is getting married in a tuxedo (and not that its important, but her partner is a man; two tuxedos!) and otherwise the wedding is going to be very Jewish because that's whats important to her!

point is. "things don't become traditions because they're good. they become good because they're traditions". pick and choose the parts you want to keep, and for the rest? do you! talk with your partner and figure out what you want the wedding to be. (the wives i was talking about got married in central park and took their photos in the middle of a busy NY street with taxis. and served hot dogs at the reception and it was perfect). what are you comfortable wearing? what do you feel the most beautiful/handsome in?

making new traditions that feel right for you and how you want to present yourself at your wedding with your attire. Wear a big white dress, or don't. Wear a fucking pantsuit. or a jumpsuit. Wear Black! Wear red! Be your something borrowed and blue! one step at a time <3

[wethepixies]

Fly with you pixies!

It tickles our wings to announce that We The Pixies has been featured in an episode of The Pink Aisle Podcast! Fly on over to listen to this episode of the podcast that also features one of our staff members, Nora, as a special guest 🧚🏼‍♀️

Happy listening!

[rosy-cheekx]

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing. 

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin.  It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

--

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

--

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: that’s pretty knit 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: rurikawa yuki/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words, 1 image

𝐚𝐧: yuki birthday month, yuki fic. ahaha i am very direct with my titles again. what’s new? because of the research i did, i’m probably gonna go order some knitting materials online now

Perhaps you spent too much time at the nearest arts and crafts store. For a dozen or so minutes you stood in one spot, unmoving unless someone needed to pass by you, your eyes flitting up and down, left and right as you debated over the different assortments of yarn.

You already had an inkling the different colours would overwhelm you— with so many different colours and different shades each, how could you possibly limit yourself to just one? You didn’t expect to be this troubled with choosing among different yarn weights, too. Why did the store give you 7 different choices? How were you supposed to know if choosing light yarn was better than choosing bulky yarn?

… you seriously should have done more research, but the prospect of finally having free time to visit the shop overshadowed any semblance of rationality you previously possessed.

Look at you now.

Alright, Plan A— scope out the area for the friendliest looking employee and muster up the courage to ask for help, plain and simple.

Except things don’t always go as planned.

When you hear your name come from a voice behind you, it was impossible not to figure out who it was that caught you. You’re just a little bit upset and a little bit tense because of all people to come across at this moment, it had to be Yuki? It’s not that you dislike him, rather it’s because the opposite is true that you found yourself more pressed than you should be.

It was like buying a surprise gift for someone and that exact someone seeing you buy that gift… actually, that was pretty much the situation— the only differing variable being that the gift hasn’t even been created yet.

Seriously, you just had to come across the very person you were planning on making something for?

“Yuki-kun! What are you doing here?”

He gave you a blank stare, as if waiting for you to realise how dumb your question was. Rurikawa Yuki? In a crafts store? Unless you wanted something specific, the answer should have been plenty obvious.

“Hah? I want to buy materials to make clothes, obviously,” he replied, tilting his head to gesture towards his shopping basket filled with various beads, lace, and… were those feathers? Was he just replenishing stock and were those all for one outfit? Curiosity was getting the better of you, mouth already poised to ask a follow-up question before he interrupted you.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you?”

To any deities out there, grant you a smidge of acting prowess, or at the very least the ability to make some half-truths and get away with it.

You awkwardly let out a laugh, your eyes leaving Yuki as they dragged themselves back towards the shelves.

“I’m supposed to make a scarf for someone,” an omission of information, but technically the truth, “but I don’t know which yarn to pick?”

For a few seconds Yuki stared at you with narrowed eyes, ultimately letting out a sigh as he placed his own items on the tiled floor, facing the same direction as you.

“Any colour you want?”

Taking the opportunity to resolve one of your main problems, you quickly told him that he could choose any colour he wanted. Haha, you were so slick getting Yuki to choose the material he’d like the most. If you somehow screwed up the knitting process, at least he’d like the colour, right?

“Didn’t you do any research?” Yuki asked, sifting through the pale pink yarns to look for the appropriate weight.

“Not really,” you admitted sheepishly, “I mean, I just saw the steps were easy enough and decided to give it a try.”

���I-di-ot~” he said in a sing-song voice, but despite the nickname you knew there was underlying affection there somewhere, “one skein of super-bulky yarn would be the easiest to work with, then you probably need a crochet hook and 9 mm knitting needles too…”

You follow the green-haired boy as he moves to a different aisle, picking up the supplies you inevitably would have had trouble choosing between.

“Really, you could have just asked me, if you’re so clueless. I’d help you out.”

“No way!” you suddenly exclaimed, earning yourself front row tickets to Yuki’s look of confusion, “I can do it myself!”

You hoped your sudden outburst didn’t come off as rude, but he seemed to just push the matter away nonchalantly.

“Suddenly getting so loud, what’s with you…” he muttered, dropping the things he picked up for you atop your waiting hands, “but that’s fine. The scarf won’t be as cute as if I helped you, but maybe it’ll turn out decent at least.”

You clutched the materials to your chest, already anticipating being able to prove Yuki wrong. How would he react the moment he knew the person you were knitting something for was him?

“I’ll show it to you when I’m done!” you promised, “I need your seal of approval, after all!”

He’d probably point out any issues regardless, so you just had to make sure you did your absolute best!

Knitting took a lot more effort than you anticipated. First of all, you had to do something called a cast on around the needle? Apparently the wrap cast on was great for beginners, but you weren’t gonna lie— it did take you one whole article from some “The Queen of Yarn” blogspot and one 5 minute YouTube tutorial just to make sure you were on the right track.

One. Slip knot: loop the yarn around your fingers clockwise, the yarn attached to the ball going under the loop, slid off your fingers and slipped onto the needle.

It wasn’t that the steps were particularly difficult. Rather, it was constantly making sure you weren’t accidentally skipping any steps or areas due to not paying too much attention.

Two. Open the loop to make a stitch: hold the empty needle with your dominant hand, and the needle with the slip knot in the other. Slip the empty needle into the first loop— from front to back.

Still, it was difficult to stop your thoughts from wandering— perhaps you should have chosen to listen to some kind of tea spill or podcast or comedy routine or anything with words instead of the LoFi ChillHop live stream playing from your phone. You were going to give Yuki a scarf— then what?

Three. Wrap the yarn: go counter-clockwise, the working yarn sliding between both of the needles.

You had a crush on Yuki, plain and simple, but it’d be embarrassing to just admit it! The amount of courage you had still needed replenishing, what with the amount you used up to just go up to him and try befriending him a couple of months back. What if you confessed, and he decided not only was your scarf ugly, he wouldn’t be friends with you anymore as well?

Four. Turn the stitch: slide the dominant-hand needle from the back to the front of the other needle.

But would it be enough to just pass off the garment as a, “thank you for being my friend” gift? Especially when there was no real occasion, and the hours you put in into making him something— would he question it?

Five. Finish the stitch: slide the dominant-hand needle up so that the first loop on the other needle slides off. Move on to the next loop, do the same thing, repeating until you are out of stitches.

Well, even with all of Yuki’s bluntness, he was still kind so he’d probably still be your friend! It’d still really hurt if he rejected you though, so maybe you should put off implying anything more than platonic between you two for… a while. Maybe it was too soon?

Looking at the progress you made, you were unable to hold in a groan of defeat. The pale pink yarn against the bamboo needle looked pretty and neat; there was an issue though.

One row. You were only able to do one row so far.

Your phone clock said it was still pretty early into the afternoon. Well, a few more hours wouldn’t hurt anything except your hands, right?

A hand therapy site told you that pain brought by needlework was probably due to repetition of motion, bad posture, and or general fatigue. Not gonna lie, you probably fit into all three— the last one maybe more so than others.

How long one took to knit varied— some dedicating days, while others were able to crank out 5 scarves a day. A part of you was proud to be able to procure something presentable and wearable in one sitting.

…

You’re just choosing to omit the fact that that one sitting lasted until 3 am, but what Yuki doesn’t know? Won’t hurt him.

Thanking your singular brain cell right now that you decided to do this project over the weekend instead of during a school day— you’re unsure if you’d even be able to survive at all if you actually had to do maths and stuff the day after.

Deciding to just go with the flow, you found yourself folding the scarf as neatly as you could, gingerly placing it inside a paper bag. After all, you agreed to “have him judge” your creation today.

In all honesty, you thought you had built up the confidence to confess your crush to Yuki. If he reciprocated, good for you! If he didn’t, well, either you take it cooly or go ‘I said I liked you as a friend thing, silly!”

Standing in front of him though, his orange eyes scrutinising the pale pink scarf, made you lose your words, hesitation standing in its stead.

“Garter stitch…”

“What do you think, Yuki-kun?” you asked, peering at the green haired boy curiously as you impatiently awaited his verdict.

“I’m honestly surprised you made something nice,”

“Hey—“

“But for beginner, it’s pretty good,” he complimented, “actually, I can see myself wearing it when it gets colder—“

Even with such simple words, you felt your heart swell in happiness. Not only did he say he liked it, but he even went as far as to say he’d wear it? There were so many ways to get your gratitude across, to tell Yuki your true intentions in ‘asking for his approval’. With all of your options, you went with

“If you like it, it’s yours!”

“Hey, you…”

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond. Actually, you can relate to that because even you’re befuddled by your wording. Didn’t it make it seem like you gifted it to him as an afterthought?

“I mean, well that’s not what I meant,” you hurriedly followed up, “I wanted to give it to you from the start? I didn’t know if it’d be nice though so if you said it was ugly I would’ve hidden it from the world? You said you would wear it though so—“

“This won’t do…” Yuki replied, interrupting your impending rambling. Before you could ask him what he meant, he pulls your hand to lead you inside the dormitories.

Unbeknownst to you, pink the same shade of your... his scarf painted his cheeks. If only the weather was fit for the garment you gave, he’d be able to blame the sudden colour on the cold.

“Come on, I need to get your measurements.”

It was difficult to keep the silly grin off of your face afterwards.

want to order again?

[npdclaraoswald]

I've been slowly making my way through the Pink Aisle podcast and they don't like the mime rat from Island Princess???????? He's the best part of the movie!!!!!