#the new yarn & needles today

[lemonynuggets]

this week had everything to be the worst week of the year and honestly I’ve been keeping it together so well, I’m really proud of myself

[inniave]

thank god i finally fucking did a tension swatch cause this sweater would've ended up wayyyy too small

[unopenablebox]

went to blick today.... didnt buy anything except a couple of $1.29 flexible rulers but just going to blick is really a great experience. highly recommended if youre stressed

[inkdrinkerworld]

mornings

synopsis: sunshine!reader is not sunshine-y early in the morning, and miguel finds it very cute

cw: fluff, i think that's it, gn!reader [i think i only use they but no gendered pronouns]

It’s amusing to Miguel- this little portion of your personality.

He’d been surprised the first time he was over at your apartment and it was time to wake up- but now, a little over three weeks after that initial day, you’re at his apartment and he’s come to realise that this is your ‘allotted grumpy time.’

He’s been fiddling with some sketches for new suits and new transportation centres for the anomalies that you find as the sun rises. 

Miguel’s an early riser- something he’s sure you’ve attributed to his grumpy disposition. Always telling him, ‘It’s because you don’t let your body rest so you get grumpy halfway through the morning’.

Your alarm is going to go off in ten minutes and he finds that he’s eagerly awaiting it. 

The soft tunes of waves crashing comes from your phone; your groan follows it immediately. Miguel bites back a smile. 

You’re facing the halfway opened curtains, little streams of light pouring through the window as the sun stretches to the top of the sky. Miguel suspects that doesn’t help you fall back asleep as you try burying your face back into your pillows. 

“Sol,” he whispers, pencil in one hand as the other scratches at the nape of your neck. “Es hora de despertar.” 

Your hand finds his at the back of your head and you remove it with a little more force than he had been expecting. 

“No,” simple and final.

He leaves you be, knowing you’ve another alarm in five minutes that usually does the trick. As Miguel waits for it, he moves to his kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. 

Your grumbles find him in the kitchen and he smiles at how annoyed you sound. 

You stomp your way to the bathroom, and ten minutes later you emerge wrapped in your towel, your face is glossy so Miguel can only assume you’ve showered and done your skincare routine. 

Your frown doesn’t go away though.

“You alright there, grumpy?” he asks as he catches a glimpse of you getting dressed. 

“M’not grumpy,” you deny as you put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top- as a second thought you pull a sweater off the hanger and drape it over your arm. You don’t have much tactical training today, so you’re opting for comfort. “S’early.” 

Miguel meets you in the living room with a mug of tea for you and one of coffee for himself. “You set your alarm, Sol.” he reminds you and you cast a scathing glare at him. He wants to laugh because you look the exact opposite of scary.

No one would believe him if he even muttered the words, ‘Oh they're not a morning person,’ or if he even insinuated that you could be grumpy. Not even Lyla. 

“How are you not grumpy?” you ask him as you take the mug from him and take a sip. 

Miguel shrugs, setting his coffee down as he gets a pair of socks and your shoes for you. 

“Maybe we’ve swapped places for the day,” it’s unnatural even for him to say but it pulls a snort from you and that makes him feel a sense of accomplishment.

“Or maybe you’re an anomaly,” you joke, reaching a finger to pinch and poke at his cheek as he fits your socks and shoes on for you. Miguel bites the tip of your finger as it comes close to his lips, smiling when you let out a gasp that turns to a giggle. 

“Ready?” He finishes off his coffee with a couple sips as he waits for you to pack your tote bag- it’s filled with mostly tactile stuff, like your crochet needles and yarn, a sketchbook and one of the little cubes that Miguel had designed to help with your thinking, and then your tablet with all your notes on it. 

“Miguel?” 

“Yes?” He holds the door open for you. 

“Do you think you could help me with the new design for the web shooters? Something’s off, but I’m not sure what.” 

He grabs his own tablet and a yoghurt freezie and hands it to you. 

“I can, amor. Will you come have lunch with me or will you be with Jess and Margo?” 

You laugh at how offended he sounds, “No I’ll have lunch with you. You missed me too much yesterday. Lyla told me how you were even grumpier than usual.” you’ve already eaten half of the freezie when you reach the elevator. Miguel only shakes his head, plotting to figure out a way to get Lyla to not tell you everything about him.

[todayontumblr]

Thursday, September 7.

Knitting.

This is a public service announcement.

Well, this is sort of a public service announcement. It's an announcement serving the great and the good of the #knitting public, to be precise. If this public includes your fine self, then boy, have we got news for you. 

Knitting is trending. Knitting is up there, in fact. So we are putting the usual on the backburner for today: no Pedro Pascal, no farmcore, no Riverdale, no Dimension 20, no David Tennant, no The Sims 4, and no dark f*cking academia. This one is all about you: you good folk with your yarn in one hand and needles in the other. For today is your day, your moment in the sun.

However you chose to celebrate is very much at your discretion, but we would hope you do so by doing what you do best, and, say, knit the pink trending icon or something. If you are a knitter not yet in Tumblr's vast community of cuddly autumnal creators, or if you simply appreciate this wonderful craft, welcome. Make yourself at home.  

[slytherin-pen]

The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

[tinknevertalks]

Oh, I said I'd show you my new hat. I got a skein of yarn back in July (I think) when I went to Bath. I'd wanted to buy fluff but they didn't sell any anymore (very annoying when their google listing made it look like they did, but whatever, we roll) so I got 100g hand dyed yarn by Uschitita - expensive but worth it.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. I'm in a knit/crochet in public day in the craft shop, working on the last of my shawl. On a whim, I pick up a ball of West Yorkshire Spinners double knit in like a lime green. It's pretty standard, nice to work with.

"I need a new hat," I tell Craft Shop Lady.

Start crocheting said hat. It is not going how I want it, and I can never shape dk beanies properly (I used to use Repeat Crafter Me's patterns, but she uses aran weight and I don't really vibe with aran weight). So even though I've done eight rows, I frog it.

Ribbit.

Because I know I have to knit it.

"But Rachel, you're a crocheter, you crochet therefore you are!" I know! But I wanted the zigzag stitches you get with knitting.

So I bought a circular needle. The wire is way too short, but Craft Shop Lady was very nice and let me swap it. Except we swapped like for like. 🙈 By the time I'd realised it was Sunday afternoon, the shop was closed and I *really* wanted to knit my hat.

Cue me not remembering how to cast on. So I google it, and remind myself and oh!

I've got some knitting on the go! Look, it's so pretty!

(Yes, I know it looks small, it's the loop.)

I kept at it, even though at the start I couldn't recognise my purls in a sea of knits, and today (well, technically yesterday but roll with it) I finished it!

I love how it looks. My one note is, if I made this again (and I probably will, as it's a comfy hat), I'd knit for a full seven inches before doing the shaping, rather than the six and a half they say in the pattern. Oh, and maybe get some double pointed needles for the last two rows? It was very fiddly decreasing down to seven stitches on the circular needle.

But yeah, that's my new hat. I'm tempted to make cat ears to put on it but I'm lazy so I doubt I will. ��

[thegreenleavesofspring]

So back when I first started knitting I was told that I was going to need to use it for my tithing - my time and my labor and my love, rather than strictly money that I frankly can't afford. Fair enough, will do. But more than that, I was told specifically - ever noticed how when we're told to make things for Him He's always very specific about it? - that I was to make baby blankets for my local pregnancy center. Fair enough, can do. But even more than that, I was given a very specific mental image of the blanket I am supposed to make first.

Now, this wasn't an immediate thing. It was to be my best effort, not my first one. But since November, I have slowly been acquiring what I'll need. Bulky needles. Knowledge of stitches. A pressing on my heart, of late, that this is something I need to be standing ready to do. All I am missing is the yarn.

But speaking of 'of late,' I have been going through... trials. Let's call them trials. Trials of the open-ended and indefinite (and unbearable) variety. I have also been praying. Constantly and emphatically. I'd like these trials to be over soon, please. And it's felt like I just... haven't been receiving an answer. Can't hear Him at all. He's silent through all the usual channels. Everything - even the small things - are going wrong. Etc.

Now I have no doubt that this is my own fault, not being able to hear Him. But it's still discouraging. So my prayers over the last couple days have been more along the lines of, "Can You hear me? Are You there? I am small and weak and need some sort of sign that You're still listening."

Y'all.

So like, I've been getting emails from my knitting supplies supplier like "We've got tons of new yarn in stock! Check out our new yarn!" And I've been ignoring and deleting them because I've got BILLS to pay and CHILDREN to feed and clothe I cannot be indulging a HOBBY but.

Well I got one through that said "big summer yarn sale" and I deleted it and I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't supposed to do that so I went to their website and looked at their sale yarns and I found it. The precise yarn I'm supposed to use.

Kids if you ask God for a sign that He's listening to you, He might tell you "Go do something for someone else for awhile and stop whinging about yourself for a bit."

So last night I'm sitting and I'm looking at this yarn that's 40% off going "Really? 🤨😑 Well I'm Dead Broke right now so if You want me to get it You'll have to provide a way. 😑" and lo and behold. I got the alert today that I'm getting paid in a couple days.

I would still like these trials to wrap up with a nice neat bow on top, but I'll get back to y'all once I've knitted a baby blanket and - somehow - rendered it up to my local pregnancy center. How? I haven't a clue. But if He wants it there He'll get it there, that part isn't my problem unless He makes it my problem.

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ 4 HEAD-CANONS - HOBIE BROWN

1. He’s a love island fan - but not by choice. You’d put it on one night whilst he was sat beside you on his phone, and this continued for the next few nights until eventually his phone was long gone and he was swearing at the tv, possibly more into the show than you were.

“What the fucks he doin’?! Are you kidding me? Stupid prick.” He’d throw his hands up in the air, clearly annoyed by the people on TV.

“Hobes, chill, you don’t even know these people!” You’d laugh, finding it funny how upset he was getting over a show he would’ve call stupid if you’d asked him about it just weeks prior.

“Yeah but she’s gonna come back and see him with another girl, poor sod.” He’d huff, leaning back and crossing his arms. “People on this show are twats.”

2. Yes, he’s a punk. Yes, he’s from camden. But he is NOT one of the camden punks who sit on the bridge asking for money. He avoids Camden Town at all costs, claiming it’s full of too many tourists with more money than sense. He used to go there when he was younger to get piercings and tattoos, because god knows if there’s one place they won’t ask for ID, it’s the dodgy tattoo shops in Camden. However once he taught himself to do piercings and (kind of?) tattoos, there was no need to go anymore.

“Hobie there’s this new food stall that I thought we could go try today-“ You’d quickly be cut off by his voice. “Where?” He already knew where this was going.

“Camden market…” A scoff would sound from where he sat on the bed watching you get dressed. “I can get you better food literally anywhere else.” You’d walk over, falling into his side in annoyance.

“But it’s literally five minutes down the road!”

Sometimes he’ll end up giving in and will let you drag him to the market, where you’d force him to buy something from one of the stalls; but not before he could complain about how overpriced and overrated it was.

3. On the topic of him doing his own piercings - he’d LOVE if you asked him for a piercing. I can guarantee from the moment you met him he’d been mapping out your face, imagining which ones would best suit you. Of course he’d always make sure you were sure you wanted it, he didn’t want you to regret it once it was done, but as soon as you gave him a green light he’d be ready, grabbing his supplies and sitting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

“Hold fucking still.” Hobie would huff, one gloved hand placed on your shoulder as the other grabbed whatever he was looking for.

“I’m nervous!” You’d whine, your own hands clenching onto the edge of the bathtub you were sitting on. A small ‘tsk’ would leave Hobie’s lips as he pulled slightly away to look at you. He was kneeling in front of you, yet his face was still fairly close to yours from where you sat.

“Love, I haven’t even got the needle out yet- I’m literally cleaning your nose with a cotton bud and you’re already wriggling around.”

4. Whenever you become interested in something, he’s interested in it too. Wanna dye your own hair? He’ll watch videos on it so he can help. Learning to make your own jewellery? He’ll buy the supplies and make some too. He loves to do things as a couple, and he likes to be good at things so that if you ever need help he’ll know how to support you; even if it is only little things like how to thread a needle.

You’d be sat on your bed, blanket pulled up to your waist as you struggled with your hook. You’d recently become obsessed with crocheting after seeing it on TikTok and decided that you needed to learn. You were currently struggling to get the hang of the movements, the yarn continuously slipping off of the hook.

Hobie would be sat beside you on his phone before he noticed you struggling, a smug grin forming at his lips as he reached over, pulling you into his arms and placing his own hands over yours.

“You’re holding it wrong, moron.” He’d show you how to hold it currently, helping you to successfully pull the yarn through the slip knot you’d created. A smile would pull at your lips before you turned to face him, confused.

“How the hell did you know that?” He’d grin down at you.

“Watched a video on it last night after you mentioned your package came.”

[coridallasmultipass]

Finally knitted Halloween socks that I've been meaning to knit since I bought this yarn last year!

The yarn is from "SavannahRoseHandmade" from the 90s Halloween Collection (sold out now UGH [understandable, but UGH]) and is visually inspired by the movie Scream (1996). I saw the colour pooling effect on their sample swatch when they shared the yarn collection images on Reddit last year, and was immediately like, 'Holy shit it's just like CRT TV static!!' And I had to get it. (And then life happened and I didn't get around to knitting them until now lol).

And unfortunately, I'm SO IN LOVE WITH IT!! THE EFFECT DID TRANSLATE TO SOCKS AND NOW IT'S LIKE, AHHH I NEED MORE. I don't know if I have enough yarn left to make an additional pair, so I'll have to figure out how to weigh it and the socks and see if the weight compares (really don't wanna end up with 3 socks and not enough for the 4th lol). But yeah. I'm so glad I got to do this. The yarn colouration was SO fun to work with, and the yarn was a nice and smooth 1-ply which was a huge relief from the fluffy yarn on the socks I'd been working on just before this. And yes, I did intentionally take this photo in front of those books because of the spiral-ish pooling.

Can I just also... like... holy fuck, man. I LOVE when yarn pools into unique patterns. It's the best phenomenon ever. And especially like for this one being black and white? That subtle grey transition from stark white to pitch black is EVERYTHING. Like I never would have thought one could create yarn that would pool EXACTLY like TV static rolling down the screen when knit. Major nostalgia vibes. I can feel the forcefield.

Also, started these babies September 27 and finished the second sock today October 3rd, which may be a new record for me knitting socks, I was so fucking excited. I even have a big ole 'writers bump' on my finger from the way I hold my knitting needles lmao (was also knitting a different pair of socks before this, too), and my arthritis is Not happy, but screw you, arthritis! I'M HAPPY.

Side note: it would be cool to pair this yarn with like a red addition somehow. Get a Saw vibe going bc of the TV static pooling effect. (I do love Scream though.) Or you could even probably take it a The Ring route with like a fly applique or something. So many horror movie staples with TV static effect, and not enough Scream yarn to test them out!!

Bonus image when the socks were a WIP:

I had my new tooth and doll eye stitch markers going. I DO have bloody murder weapon stitch markers, but none of them are a buck knife (Ghostface's weapon), so I went for general Halloween vibes instead (even tho I use stitch markers like this year-round lol).

[faerunsbest]

Success as a problem

Here's a thought for rolan In an established relationship

He's very much in love with his partner they are with him, but he keeps being called away on business. The shop is so successful it eats much of his time. He's usually gone to bed long after his partner is asleep, so they don't have any time at night.

At some point, he's got quite accustomed to just seeing them in passing. Then, one day, he finally has near an hour unaccounted for in his schedule. He's so excited to run home and see them and spend some time with them, but when he gets there. His stomach flips, and he's nervous.

They're at home sitting by a window counting while they knit. When did that happen? Is that new? He's looking at them seeing little flecks of gray in their hair. Its cute.

For some reason, Rolan has to steel himself. Why so nervous?

"Hello my love"

They look up in surprise, his heart flutters at that big smile. They stand in a hurry, dropping their work, much of yarn sliding off the needle. How strange they almost hurry over then stand close, a soft smile and their hands in their lap.

"You have a moment free today?"

Rolan just nodded, feeling so anxious. The moment reminded him of when they first met. Footsteps could be heard running up the stairs.

"Sir, we have a problem!"

He grimaced when he saw his partners smile fall. It was heartbreak.

"Perhaps another day."

He wasn't sure what to do, rolan turned and glared at the employee who had come rushing up.

"I'm sorry love, I thought I had time..."

"It's okay, I understand."

He turned away, unsure how to fix it just yet. He hurried back down the stairs to put out another fire. After cleaning up another mess it was dark and he knew they were sleeping.

Today did remind him of when they had first met, when they hadn't got to know each other. When they were still nervaround each other and he thought, that isn't good. It's not cute. He was losing his connection to his spouse.

[freshstitches]

The Winter Wave Hat was a spontaneous project inspired by the arrival of a new family member. I used two 100g skeins of bulky weight yarn in contrasting colors. This project features a simple stacked stitch motif worked in 2 colors in the round. Stacked stitches are a increase and decrease technique used to create wavy color work. Only one color is worked at a time in this project. It's a good starting place for any one new to this technique who wants to practice with a quick and (relatively) easy pattern.

I know it's a strange time of year to publish a hat, but it's still cold enough to wear this today when I arrive in Wisconsin. It's also perfect timing for those of you who live in the southern hemisphere.

🧶

Yarn: BULKY

Small size uses 60g of MC and 30g of CC.

Large size uses 67.5g of CC and 37.5g of CC.

Finished Size: 18" (20") / 46 (51 cm) circumferenceat ribbing, unstretched, to fit 20-23" (23-26") / 53-60 (61-66) cm head.

Needles: Size 8 (5mm), 10 (6mm) 16” (40 cm) circular needle, or size needed to obtain gauge.

Gauge: 14 sts and 19 rows = 4 x 4” square in stockinette stitch on larger size needles.

Find the pattern for sale on my website and on Ravelry.

[4ddi3addie2005]

hiiiiiiiii, i was wondering if your requests were open, and if so, could you do a hair braiding fic with Wally Darling x gn!reader? like. wally has No Idea how to braid hair because his hair is always, Like That and the reader teaches him how and then he does their hair and they're both blushing and,

accidentally went off the rails and wrote 2k+ words and i forgot the prompt halfway but here it is :”D i literally have no idea how to braid hair or fix hair. tried to learn before i chopped it off and literally cried sooo there’s no tutorial in here djdvshdvsh super fun to write!! sorry if it wasn’t what you expected aha

cw: touch-centric, maybeee non-consensual kissing?? reader is cool with it but no questions were asked, mild implications of mind-reading, mentions of blood and needles

Desc: Wally X Human Reader,,, julie and wally style your hair before the former needs to leave due to a butterfly-related emergency. it’s just you and him.

No horror this time lol

Everyone in Home was just so fascinated with your hair! Especially Julie. She was pretty handy with her own locks of yarn, so when you strolled in with those thread-thin layers (no, thinner than thread!) she was lightning-fast to sink her hands into it and start suggesting styles! Poor girl nearly exploded when you told her she could go crazy with it, you didn’t mind! You were at ease just letting her run a comically large comb through it, but you were yanked from your serenity when she pulled out the needles.

Turns out, the citizens of Home have a unique way of grooming, involving pins and sharp bits, string, a bit of dexterity…

Her scream was as instantaneous as your yelp. You grabbed the back of your head and felt a hot dewdrop stick to your palm.

Honest mistake, really. You told Julie she was fine! You should have thought of it sooner, haha. There was a teary-eyed apology and a hug. You’re never going to get used to their empathy, you think.

Later, she was recalling the strange story to her friends, noting that their new buddy is slap-full of paint! It hurts for that paint to spill out, apparently! Wally was listening.

Little guy creeped you out, honestly. It wasn’t like you didn’t like spending time with him, you just always felt like there was something brewing behind that permanent smile. No one else seemed to notice or care.

And he was on to you, too. Your mind felt… strange when he was around. You don’t know how to voice these concerns, so you didn’t.

You were fast friends either way. There was a mutual understanding of… something. You knew you two were kindred spirits right when you laid eyes on him.

Anyways.

You loved that big ole’ ball of yarn he had. “Hair” was a strong word, it was all stitched in, but it was even better to bat around or give a little squeeze! And he sure didn’t mind at all! Sometimes he’d even ask you to run your fingers through it or stitch something back into place. He trusted you a lot with his pomp. You think it has to do with your agile fingers, or your nails. (Your nails were a big hit in Home! You gave the best scritches, according to Barnaby.)

You eventually rescheduled that hair-styling date with Julie, more than a few times. The neighbors were never far behind, but Wally tagged along the most. His passion for fashion was no secret so he and Julie collaborated often to dress you up like a doll. You’d get the chance to style them, too. They thought your preferences were unique for a number of reasons and marveled at their transformations.

Today was one of those days. You had your head hanging over the sink, squeezing out shampoo. You had brought your own products because fabric softener didn’t agree with your… anything, really. You were washing out the absolute excess of spray, gel, glue, and whatever the heck Julie had plastered to your skull for your latest look. Your scalp was screaming for emptiness, but sweet Jul still had some fire left in her and was intent to braid your whole head while it was damp, as she was basically dreaming to see you with a head full of curls! You’d do anything for her, so whatever.

Wally was sitting on the counter, gazing at himself in a small hand-held mirror with the larger bathroom mirror blatantly behind him. His lips were moving silently in accordance to a song playing idly from the record player in another room.

Julie was beside you, also bouncing along to the distant melody, doing her makeup. She was in an orange mood today, she said.

“Alright, Jul, I’m ready.” You stood straight up and attempted to straighten out your aching back.

“Oh! But my…! Give me a second, just wring it out; I’m almost there.”

You took a towel and gave your hair a good squeeze, having a brief vision of folding it on the floor like a pillow and going to sleep. You prayed she’d have you sit down.

“Okie-dokie!” She slapped her pallette down on the counter. Wally looked up. “I’m ready.”

You yawned and you felt your eyes unfocus in the mirror. Standing on a stool to reach you, she ran her hands through your wet locks until it reached some sort of satisfactory position, and started from the top. You could feel her precision in your skull.

Wally’s attention drifted away from himself and he leaned in; his lazy gaze looking very similar to your own at the moment. “Now how’re you doing that, Julie?”

“It’s super easy! You just section it out, like so…”

Her explanation was lost on you. You were fantasizing about a nap.

“You try it!”

You floated back into reality when gentle hands sifted into your hair. With Julie, debatably a professional, styling and cutting for you all the time, you could easily sense the inexperience. The process began again, albeit slower, clumsier, and Julie started to tap her foot.

“You take that side, and I’ll take this side! We’ll be done in no time.”

Braid upon braid was piled onto your head. You focused more on the progress on your left, where you actually saw Wally squint in the mirror. Julie worked so fast that you couldn’t even feel it sometimes. Wally had his soft fingers against your scalp, tugging gently at the strands tight to your head for closer coverage. Julie stopped to help him every once in a while. You closed your eyes.

A commotion from the living room. Doors being thrown open.

“Julie, by stars, we NEED you!” Frank had rushed into the bathroom with the frenzy of someone being chased by an ax murderer. “A-27 is emerging and has requested you be there! For her, Julie!”

Julie gasped and dropped the hair she had so delicately braided. “Chryssabellum? She isn’t due for another week! Oh, um Wally!” She ran backwards out the door and flicked her hand. “You finish that!”

The door was swung halfway closed and the two were gone in a flash. You just stared.

“Hi, Frank. Okay, Julie.” Wally said after a long moment of them being gone. He hadn’t even looked up from braiding.

“Wow.” You breathed. Okay. “Can we sit down?”

“Sure. You look very very tired. I would be too, I think.”

You let out the most satisfying sigh ever and sank to the floor. The cold linoleum was heavenly in contrast to the balmy air. With only being twelve apples tall, Wally could still easily reach the top of your head. You planted your hands on the floor and leaned your head back, resting it on your shoulders.

His progress didn’t shift at all. He kept at it, slow, careful, learning, folding your hair over and over again.

Now that you think about it, Wally’s never fooled with your hair before. He was more of a wardrobe guy. “How’s it going back there?”

“It is going much!”

You let out another dramatic sigh. “She worked me today, Wally. She really did.”

“I can tell. You looked nice though. And funny.” He went for that spot between your neck and your skull, making little scratching motions to bring the hair closer to him before starting to braid. You let your eyes slip shut. He got on his knees for a better angle.

Yet another sigh. You got off your hands completely, preferring to lean back into his lap. Unbothered, yet hindered, he took his hands away, gazing down.

“You got sweet little hands, man.” You iterated by taking one in your own. It was damp from your hair. His whole outfit, including him, was now dampened by your hair.

“Thank you. They’re mine.”

“They are.” You repeated, smiling. It was sadly taken away.

“Sorry. Julie told me to finish.”

You huffed lightheartedly. “Can you manage upside-down?”

“I can try.” He straightened his legs, placing each at your side.

So you rolled over, crossing your arms over his thighs (or the equivalent) and laying on them. Your forehead was comfy against his abdomen. Finally satisfied, your eyelids dropped.

He started working on your hair again, adapting to the new position quickly. You were lost in the motions once again before the record player, for the first time that night, caught your attention.

It was playing something slow, emotional. Not quite sultry, you think. Goodness no. Just… passionate. Wally was humming along. You could feel the tiny rumble coming from somewhere inside him as he did so. Every once in a while, he’d whisper a breathy strand of lyrics that had you… thinking.

Everyone in Home was about as shy as a golden retriever. Embraces like this were not uncommon. In the time you’ve existed here, you’ve been hugged, kissed, cuddled, coddled, and just plain handled more than you ever have in your entire life.

So why were you all of a sudden funny about it? It’s not like your position was scandalous. Could be misinterpreted among humans, but it was very very very difficult for puppets to be scandalous. You appreciated that. You’ll forget about these fuzzy feelings later, you reckon. Hopefully.

He must have finished, or was close to it, because the lovely little motions stopped and he had one braid between his fingers.

“It’s like a paintbrush.” He positioned the end to mimic the act of painting his hand. “You’re full of them.”

You smiled against his legs. Now that he didn’t have an objective, you lazily looped your arms around him, further crushing yourself into his middle. He folded his hands in your hair.

Wally didn’t feel the need to make conversation or small talk, or anything like that. You were fine, there was no pressure on you to do so either. He was content to stare holes in the back of your head. You imagined that he was painting you in his mind, picking out a shade for each thread of your hair, envisioning just the right stroke at just the right speed so he could fully capture the wonders of you. Maybe he’d even paint with your hair. That’d be a fun exercise.

You got bored of imagining and flipped over. He never let go of you, which translated to his hands lightly traveling to your cheeks. You were met with deep black vaults, barely outlined by white, connecting with your own. Startling to a stranger, slightly less startling to you.

With his hands on either side of your face, you couldn’t help but feel something other than fear. You reached up and poked where his nose would be. He returned the gesture by brushing his thumbs down the slopes of your nose. The record player continued softly.

“Sorry for getting you all wet.” His damp hands felt nice though. Like getting a facial. You wouldn’t be surprised if your skin was a tad shinier after this.

“It’s fine. You’re still warm.”

Your face sure felt warm.

It slowly dawned on you that this interaction was getting less and less friendly. In the best of ways. Would he even know what you were talking about if you brought it up? Probably not. You’d sound like an idiot if you were too direct.

“What’re we doing here, Walls?”

His smile barely widened, in a half-laugh kind of way. His thumbs moved to smooth your cheekbones. They ached from your smile.

“The funny things you’re thinking about… that’s what we’re doing.”

You were just about to ask what he meant.

“Muah.” He said, against your teeth, catching your open mouth just in time. You felt fuzz on your tongue. His departure somehow caught your bottom lip. It tapped back to your teeth unceremoniously. Over before you knew it.

Very not friendly, you realized.

“Wally!” You flicked him on the shoulder, playfully offended. “Some gentlemen you are.”

He giggled, mirth wrinkling his eyes and your own.

“Did I do good?”

You licked your lips unconsciously. “Yeah, yeah. That was fine.”

His hand found your chin, barely tugging at your lip. It didn’t even expose your teeth, just serving to drive you absolutely insane.

“Are you sure I did it right…?” He asked.

“You usually open your mouth.” You finally said, quietly. Your hands and fingers and nails found the back of his head, burrowing under the yarn of that stitched in hair-do.

“Oh. That’s it, then.” His volume matched your own. You were lowering him towards you. Of course he’d have his eyes open, wide and starry. You got ready to close yours. You had just the faintest idea of what you were about to do.

A commotion from the front door.

You meant to yank your hand out of his hair and act as natural as possible when your finger snagged and you ended up snatching his head to the side.

“Oh! N— Wally I am so sorry.” Poor guy looked completely bewildered.

You automatically glanced at the door to see Julie’s befuddled gaze that clearly asked ‘Am I interrupting something?’ She said nothing, but cracked a grin as you hastily untangled from his pomp and addressed her from his lap way too casually.

“So, how did it go!”

“Um, good! Good. A little rough at first. Chrysabellum has a pattern on her wings that we haven’t seen before…”

She was definitely asking you about this later. And you definitely weren’t going to know what to say.

[scratchandplaster]

Kicks

CW: pregnancy and its side effects, comfort

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Fucking hell!"

Stitch by stitch, the yarn slipped off his needles. Shepard threw the half-finished potholder back on the bedside table, tired and disappointed.

Of all Grandma hobbies, he hoped knitting would be the easiest to learn. A terribly wrong estimate. But if nobody from either side of the family felt ready to swallow their pride and fill this role, he had to do it himself. Saved them all plenty of worry in the future anyway.

"I suck at this," Shepard confessed and looked imploringly at Claire, who waddled in from the en-suite.

"Very much so, love" she cackled, rolling under the blanket next to him, "but it will look great if you keep trying."

He shifted, then, stuffing a pillow underneath her feet and lifting her legs up. At the end of the day, the swelling got especially bad. With slow and gentle strokes, Shepard massaged along her sore muscles in a patient rhythm, the perfect way to help Claire settle down.

Nevertheless, the discomfort grew with every day. Soon. Soon, both were ready to welcome him into the world. Today, other issues had to be discussed.

"Why did a Marcy Smith, from three towns over, send you a check for 500 dollars? Reason for transfer: baby clothes…"

"A kind donation," she huffed, eyes closed in pain.

"Since when do you take handouts?"

"Since the father left without a word." Claire pouted, peeking through her lashes to admire her husband's dumbfounded expression, "I heard he ran away with his mistress, poor me."

"You're horrible." I love you.

"You like the new Dremel set I got you? Then stop whining," she teased, a smug grin on her lips.

Fair enough. Shepard usually had to be content with one or the other tale about uncurable illness to earn his income, maybe a lame dog to care for here and there. What could he say, Claire really was his better half, in every aspect.

Minute after minute, he kept guiding the pressure from her legs, until she protested, less than half-awake: "I need to pee."

"Again? "

"Tell that to him." She sighed and pointed down to her stomach.

"Please, stop bullying my girl," he whispered and pressed a kiss where he suspected his child's head. The little fist pushing against Shepard's cheek begged to differ.

"Did you see that?" He gasped, quietly marveling at how their baby tossed and turned under his fingers, like he was swimming laps for the fun of it. "Rude, Lukas, very rude."

Claire smiled down at her boys. Another twist inside her - and a bolt of sharp pain shot up to her lungs. It didn't matter how much she tried, she never got used to her son's late-night acrobatics; at least not without help.

"Can you do it again?"

"Sure." Shepard cleared his throat awkwardly. Who would have thought that his old hobby kept being useful? "But don't laugh if I'm still a bit rusty."

He joined her under the sheets, hands cupping under her stomach and lifting the weight of their son up, even if the relief only lingered for a short while.

"Alright, then. Take a deep breath in."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompt: bonus flashback/relapse/medical complications

@augusnippets @whumpyourdamnpears

[rannadylin]

Today's tea: Mutual Pining, from my Cafe of Our Own collection. (Longtime tea & knit readers may recall seeing this blend not long ago; I wasn't happy with the proportions then so I adjusted them a bit and ordered a new sample. Happy to report that this time the berry favor is just right, no more overwhelming White Peony!)

Today's knit: Chugging along on the Mallorn Shawl, which is now getting too big to completely spread out on the needles for pictures, but I pinned it out in the middle a bit so you can better see the leaves. Also: This yarn color (Daisy, in Knit Picks Alpaca Cloud Fingering) reacts so variably to the lighting! So many shades of gold! Above is this morning's picture; below are a few close ups not quite reflecting that morning light as much when the camera is right up on them, and following that, a full size pic from yesterday afternoon when I finished knitting it for the day.

[blue-disco-lights]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

Thank you @darlingian for creating this week’s game! And the wonderful @creepkinginc @lingy910y @mybrainismelted @suzy-queued & @ian-galagher for tagging me ✨

how is your day going? pretty good! we’ve had lots of rain and gray skies lately - sun’s out today and making a big mood difference

are you okay? I am ok actually depends what time of day you ask but mostly yes :)

what is your favourite shade of your favourite colour? turquoise blue is my fave, and I love this darker version kind of like:

are you single? married (to someone who likes to cook and is happy for me when i pick up new hobbies and interests, and that's a big deal!)

are you happy about that? i am ⬆️ !

what age do you feel in your brain? i think like early 30s? in sadder times i'm usually 15 and am learning to be extra nice to her do you feel like the good times are behind you or ahead of you always looking ahead - plus your definition of a good time may change as you go

do you have a best friend? a number of close ones, but not really a kindred spirit like anne of green gables talks about :)

did you have a childhood pet? a cat but not until high school… not sure he was super fond of me…

do you sing or whistle around the house? it’s actually bad luck to whistle inside the house (cultural superstition-wise) - so we do NOT (same goes for opening an umbrella - big no). i dance around the house obnoxiously more than i sing

do you light candles or incense? not really, the scents are usually too strong

are you busy Friday night? not really, maybe i'll watch a movie all the way through :)

if you were a circus performer which act would you be in? finally put my ballet lessons to use and be a trapeze artist - but I’m kind of scared of heights, so there goes that plan!

what is your favourite outfit? black hoodie, jeans, converse

what's the last thing you created?  i’m knitting a small blanket with the most giant yarn and knitting needles i’ve ever used. My hands cramp after about 5 minutes lol. and my last galladrabble.

what is your favourite fic or book of all time? Not sure I can answer the book one easily, or a fic one for that matter - but Like Real People Do and None the Wiser have a very really place at the top.

what are you looking forward to? a trip to Los Angeles in a couple of weeks to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

what can put you immediately in a better mood? music, probably something nostalgic that I associate with my friends in our clubbing days lol

do you like hugs? i didn’t hug a ton growing up, so it still feels a bit awkward to initiate. but i do appreciate when people want to hug me. 

what is something you wish people understood about you? I've never been a fan of conflict and fear i get perceived as a pushover, but i truly just don't like making people feel bad 🤷‍♀️

allow me to tag 🪄 @francesrose3 @palepinkgoat @samantitheos @silvanshadow @jessieoneday @jrooc @gallawitchxx @deedala @michellemisfit @energievie @heymrspatel @stocious @heymacy @sam-loves-seb @transmurderbug and anyone else who'd like to play!