#Knitting & Crochet

[tango-stitch]

Cute gray short sleeves crochet top sweater pattern

#crochet #crochetpattern #crocheting

Cute gray short sleeves crochet top sweater pattern Cute gray short sleeves crochet top sweater pattern Easy cross stitch designs Tango Stitch Find Tango Stitch Cross Stitch patterns at Creative Fabrica and Design Bundles TANGO STITCH Free cross stitch patterns Buy on GUMROAD

[heritagecollectibles]

Handmade Knit or Crocheted Something (?) Floor Covering? Table Cloth? Not a Clue

Handmade Knit or Crocheted Something (?) Floor Covering? Table Cloth? Not a Clue

[moongothic]

So, back in early 2023, our local yarn shop sadly closed down, and I got some Really Nice Yarn at a really, really good discount. Like I would not have bought this Malabrigo yarn ever had it not been on discount. And, because it's nice yarn, I had been saving it up for a good, long while. Mainly because I had other projects I wanted to finish first, but also because this Really Nice Yarn, and I wanted to make something really nice with it, with care.

I wanted to make something wearable with this yarn, but at the time I had little knitting experience. I do love making things in crochet, but I don't like crochet on wearables, and crochet eats up so much more yarn I did not want to risk running out of yarn. So yeah, I left the yarn to wait, and over 2023 I got better at knitting by just knitting a lot of small shit, and this year I made my first knitted sweater. With all that I did finally get enough confidence to finally get working with this yarn. And over the last year I had had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to make with it specifically.

I wanted to try to make a colorwork sweater.

Now specifically, I wanted to practise doing colorwork. A traditional colorwork sweater (with colorwork all across the yoke and maybe even the whole thing) seemed like too much for me to figure out, like that's a lot of floats to manage and tension to figure out. For a long while I was thinking a peppermint themed sweater with vertical stripes could be super cute, and relatively simple (at least in design) but also the floats of that intimidated me a lot. But also, I'm working with red and white here, what else can I do with this color palette? I did also think about knitting like a ribcage pattern on the sweater, but that also intimidated me a little bit.

Then I had another idea; what if I do a sweater with an intarsia section? That would allow me to practise doing colorwork, managing floats and figuring out my tension, but at a smaller scale. I can just do a topdown raglan like my previous/first sweater, and amp up the difficulty just a little bit (instead of a lot) And... yeah, with this colorpalette in mind, I had one idea for what I could try to knit; a bleeding, anatomical heart.

So I bullshitted a chart together

(Blew it up to a bigger size when actually using it)

And I just. Got to knitting.

Honestly I don't even have much to say about the knitting process, it went smoothly and I had fun, although I was very worried about my tension the whole time, unsure if I was knitting it too tight or too loose, and praying blocking the sweater would help it in the end.

But yeah, once the knitting was done, it was time to block.

Took one photo of my floats before blocking

And then. Disaster struck.

Now, in hindsight, thinking about it deeply, I think the seller at the yarn store might've actually warned me about this, but I had completely forgotten about it until now. But the red dye started bleeding from the yarn while blocking. I had a fucking meltdown y'all. Like I started seeing the water in the lil tub I was blocking the sweater in turning a little pink and I was getting worried, I pour the water out and rinse the sweater with running water hoping the red dye hadn't stuck to the white yarn, but it had. In utter desperation I flung this thing straight into the washing machine (either a wool cycle or a quick wash), hoping a quick rinse would help the red dye come off. I did so much shit, in complete panic, just desperate to make my sweater not pink.

But it was too late, I had been too slow to react.

The white yarn, previously a stark white, now has a pink undertone to it.

Okay it's not so bad, you can definitely see it better in person than in the photo, but regardless, after all the time I spent working on this damn thing the dye bleeding really did just wreck me, to the point I left the sweater to sit by itself for a month, still kind of unfinished, because I could not bring myself to even look at it.

But yeah, eventually, I got over the yarn staining, and returned to the sweater. I had some loose ends that needed to be weaved in still, yes, but also.

My colorwork was kind of shit and I had to do something about it.

I had done a decent job with the red floats, maybe a bit too tight in some places but not too bad. The white floats however, were far too fucking loose, and so there was massive gaping on the sides of the colorwork. And while I could kind of pull the white floats inwards, they would come loose again and the gaping holes would return.

A normal person would realize you just have to frog the whole sweater and redo it because there's no fixing shit tension like this. But, look. If there's something I've learned from doing comics, it's that while I could spend months trying to master this one thing, I could also, instead, just call it a day and move onto the next thing. Or, in this case, try to bandaid the issue and improve my tension with my next colorwork project (whenever that may happen).

So I did spend some time trying to find any suggestions on how one could try to "fix" this shit tension, but I couldn't really find anything. But after futzing around with the yarn and the floats, I wondered... If I somehow managed to hold down the white floats on the inside of the sweater, could I not artificially tighten the tension and fix the gaping?

So I grabbed a small crochet hook and...

You know when you drop a stitch when knitting and then rescue it with a crochet hook, looping each round of yarn with the next? Yeah, I just. Did that. Creating a little chain stitch. And just to hold THAT down and keeping from unravelling, I grabbed a little bit of sewing thread and knotted it at the top of the stitch so I can't fall out.

Yeah, this is not an Elegant Solution, this is an Improper Knitting Technique and Most Shameful, I should just frog the project and redo it and Git Good.

But like.

It kinda really did work, man.

Now I did pull the chain a little too tight in a few spots so I created new issues (in the form of buckling) lmao, but like. There's no more gaping holes. Like, I dunno what to tell you man, it kinda worked, the main issue I was having and most unhappy about is gone. Like I wanna take that W, man.

Anyway, there were other issues with the sweater, a quick rundown:

I made the sleeves too long, the yarn switch was meant to happen at the same height as the torso but the sleeves really stretched the fuck out when blocking and so not only is the color change in the wrong spot but also they're just too long. Whoops. (Thankfully I can just fold the sleeves over, it's just the ribbing won't be the same lenght as the bottom of the sweater)

I dunno what I did but the sleeves are a bit too big and so the fabric of the sweater just kinda creates these weird folds in the upper arm that annoy the shit out of me (I'm just confused because I did it the same as my previous sweater but I didn't have this problem with it??)

The yarn is thin, and so the sweater is shockingly seethru. Like, you can see the black Roadhog Overwatch t-shirt I'm wearing underneath it, which is mildly annoying. Just, gotta wear white and/or plain t-shirts underneath this thing, I guess.

When bullshitting my chart together I may have stretched the heart out a little too much so it looks maybe a smidge too elongated, and generally speaking the heart looks a bit off (but that's more of a "I don't know how to create an image that reads nicely when knit" problem) (Also I could fix some of it by duplicate stitching on top, if I felt like it)

In hindsight, maybe using this superwash wool wasn't a great pick for colorwork since the yarn won't stick to itself (which you would want with colorwork, right?)

So the human heart lies about in the center of your chest if a smidge to the left, and so I tried to do that "just a smidge to the left of the center" positioning. And like, while the pattern did go exactly where I wanted it to go, I did the math right, maybe in hindsight I should've moved it just a little bit more to the left because right now it looks like... unintentionally off-center??? Like had I moved it 5 more stitches to the left it'd probably look more intentional (despite the position being intentional to begin with)

Aside from that though, it turned out Relatively Decent. Not as good as my previous sweater, but it's fine, I'll wear it, and I learned a lot during this process. And that's what really matters, doesn't it.

[manwrre]

head canon is neurodivergent steve kinda being a jack of all trades when it comes to anything remotely physical or like hands on (cmon, we’ve seen him twirl the bat). like, he’s got a lot of little niche interests and hobbies or skills because he gets bored a lot and goes through these little phases of hyperfixation when it comes to this stuff.

like, he’s got a green thumb??? his nonna (because head canon steve is a sweet little italian boy, sue me) always told him that fresher herbs were better for cooking and obviously, he cooks his own meals. so he makes the decision to start a kitchen garden and bro is a NATURAL. i’m talking rosemary, oregano, parsley, thyme, basil and freaking tomatoes for the heck of it.

or like, he once watched a segment on ‘the perfect conditions for growing strawberries’ and he couldn’t get it out of his head. he was up for the challenge?? visited the library and got a million books, bought the soil and equipment and kept them warm in the winter like they were his BABIES. and they were freaking delicious so obviously, he learnt how to make jam outta them.

he’s also crazy good at shit like draughts?? so he’s got a massive board and he plays against himself routinely. he plans on moving unto chess eventually but he hasn’t beat himself yet! all of his games keep coming to a draw.

he definitely knits and freaking crochets. he found a box of needles in the attic one time and some material and tried his hand at it. it took him a week or two but he knows about three different types of stitches at least!! and knitted himself some fingerless gloves last winter.

above all else though, he’s learnt how to play like two instruments—“and the triangle! she matters, she has feelings.” his parents had bought him a bunch of instruments as a kid, hoping that he’d have some inclination towards the arts so they could boast about it but he wasn’t really interested. he realized he hated the acoustic guitar so he got an electric one, which suits him sm better AND he can play the drums. but he likes to learn the hardest solos or nothing fr because he’s competitive

bonus points if steve underplays his interests when he’s dating billy because his parents can’t get him to shut up fast enough about ‘em. but the more billy comes over, the more he notices all of the little knickknacks just laying around ie. steve’s collection of mini whittled animals or his draught board laid out because he got stumped mid-game or the amps beneath his bed. and he’ll ask about them!! he’ll think it’s so freaking cool and let steve rant and babble about them for hours.

he’ll taste test all of his new recipes and learn draughts so he can kick steve’s ass and listen to new songs or instrumentals that he learns. like, there’s no way he won’t get wrapped up into his new interests with him and make it their thing.

[verdemoun]

REDISCOVERING HOW HOBBIES WORK 100 YEARS LATER GOTTA BE FUN

Arthur and art supplies that have become much more accessible and common!!! SOMEONE DEFINITELY GOT HIM ONE OF THOSE ART KITS FOR KIDS AND HE NEARLY CRIED WHEN THE MARKERS DIDN'T WORK UNTIL BESSIE, BLESS HER HEART, INFORMED HIM HE HAS TO PUT WATER IN THEM. You can't convince me that didn't happen xoxo

Javier and his guitar. The availability of different equipment in modern era. Straps, picks, RAINBOW STRINGS (proud owner of rainbow "training" strings here. i absolutely love them). ELECTRIC GUITARS. Even if he wouldn't like them a lot, he'd still marvel at how far guitars have come. That Hatsune Miku amp/effect unit/whatever that was i don't remember tbh. It ends up either with him or with Isaac.

Knitting!!!! Crocheting!!!! Someone definitely takes that up as a hobby!!!!!! and then cries at the cost of yarn. Curse of the love sweater is a thing they fear.

Gardening not for survival, but for fun. Like yeah we've talked abt plants before but definitely someone noticed those weird ass sets with small pots and different seeds in some dollar store. Someone definitely got it. For themselves or the kids.

That shit has to be healing for the soul you can't tell me otherwise my dear friend you cannot.

i love arthur and modern crafts. yes he bought a kiddy craft kit when he first timewarped because the concept of spending money on hobbies was new. but more than that - he never had the chance to explore mediums. bessie immediately offered to pay for decent watercolors and fancy markers and colored pencils but he insisted on the cheapest option and then was upset (which came across as aggressively frustrated) when they didn't work. bessie explained very softly about the markers being dipped in water and adored how much he still lit up like he was a kid when they started working

arthur even a decade into timewarp gets very flustered over people actually spending money to encourage his hobbies and interests at christmas (which is a gift-giving holiday he can't avoid, unlike his birthday). he gets very emotional over giving given expensive pencils because the idea of people 'wasting' money to encourage his creative pursuits still effects him

both bessie and hosea will frame the few drawings he gives them and hang them in their house. while he prefers drawing from life, he has drawn horseshoe overlook from memory and hosea can be caught staring at it nostalgically

javier tried an electric guitar for all of ten minutes before going no thank you.

he has 4 different guitars because he was a little addicted to the fact acoustic guitars could come in so many different woods and also patterns in modern era. rainbow string, straps, and stickers definitely, because a guitar was actually affordable and no longer a prized possession (on bessie's dime, they're all secondhand)

he has one is acoustic/electric hybrid that he only brings out when isaac is begging for a jam session, because isaac also knows guitar and is obsessed with electric for recording

he does admittedly love playing with music software. is garageband still a thing? sometimes he will plug in his one hybrid guitar and add his own bass and drum to hear an actual full song of one of his more original pieces

susan grimshaw is the first to try crochet and everyone has at least one crocheted animal in their house. karen, charles and kieran are all knitters. karen maintained the habit from canon era and always knits maeve a sweater before winter. kieran learned it because repetitive and a hell of a lot cheaper than his other hobbies, he uses the cheapest yarn and can only make scarves

charles got into it because something creative he can do with his hands like making his own arrows (he admits purchased arrows are more reliable despite still hunting with a bow when he goes camping). charles most strongly believed in the curse of the sweater but arthur wears his charles' knitted sweater very proudly.

kieran is an avid gardener. it was the first 'task' he was given to encourage him to leave his room and once noise-cancelling headphones are introduced most people look for him in the garden first. him and bessie lose entire weekends in the garden, weeding or checking soil phd. she will take time off work when the weather is right for planting saplings

gardening is one of kieran's hyperfixations where he will abandon asl to actively talk to people about gardening no matter what. for this reason jake adler is one of his favorite people, who is more of a survivalist, edibles only, but similarly obsessive gardener

lenny buys bought those kiddy diy indoor herb sets for maeve only to get into it when she neglected the plants and he took over. he appreciates being able to send jake+kieran a group message when a leaf on his basil looks weird and they reply with an essay of what the plant needs

[creepyscritches]

Hii just wanted to ask, what brand of yarn did you use for that lovely purple blanket you made awhile ago? I've been wanting to make my own blanket and those colors r perfect :)

Bernat Blanket, Purple Sunset :)

[solidarityyy]

Free pattern from: https://www.google.com/amp/s/pieceworkmagazine.com/amp/knit-a-ribbed-scarf-with-crocheted-edging/

[customsweaterproducer]

cardigan oem&odm,portugal knitwear manufacturer

YS-SWEATER MANUFACTURING https://sweatermanufacturing.com

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[iamprotech]

50 Pieces Colorful Knitting Markers Crochet Clips Crochet Pins Bulk Stitch Markers Locking Stitch Knitting Place Markers DIY Craft Plastic Safety Pins Weave Stitch Needle Clip Counter(10 Colors)

50 Pieces Colorful Knitting Markers Crochet Clips Crochet Pins Bulk Stitch Markers Locking Stitch Knitting Place Markers DIY Craft Plastic Safety Pins Weave Stitch Needle Clip Counter(10 Colors)

Price: (as of – Details) Professional knitting stitch markers,Bright color and superior quality. Plastic stitch markers made of high quality plastic, which is flexible and smooth going through yarn, no snagging the yarn, soft, flexible, durable and easy to bend. Quick lock and easy to use. Great for marking the beginning and ending of pattern stitches, as well as where to increase or decrease…

[tango-stitch]

Brown crochet jacket pattern

#crochet #crochetpattern #crocheting

Brown crochet jacket pattern Brown crochet jacket pattern Brown crochet jacket pattern Easy cross stitch designs Tango Stitch Find Tango Stitch Cross Stitch patterns at Creative Fabrica and Design Bundles TANGO STITCH Free cross stitch patterns Buy on GUMROAD

[zari234]

Zarina Nazir

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLHR1dGzeI_CiAWKxsr3xZwc77x-igaMTZ

[hellohappyshop]

Crochet Pattern: Buttercream hat & fingerless gloves set

Crochet Pattern: Buttercream hat & fingerless gloves set

I am sooo excited to share my latest crochet pattern with you guys! It’s up on Etsy & Ravelry! Dunno about you guys, but for months, every time I walked past the Buttercream thick & thin yarn at Joann IT HURT, because I had absolutely no reason to buy it! Just look at that yarn, how can you not want to squish it?! Hnnnnng I’m very much into the minimalism mentality-if it has no purpose, get rid…

[my-imogenie-fan]

Fruitful

Hi Everyone!

Penelope: Wow! What a fruitful day!

Abby: I’ll say. I couldn’t believe how fruitful it was!

Hope: Did you see all the faces looking at our unusual creations? Those faces made me feel fruitful for what we brought to our table.

Have a fruitful day! Hope Fruitful word & definition from Dictionary.com. For Synonym definition see Thesaurus.com

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: joshua x reader ⚬ word count: 5040 ⚬ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⚬ genres: FLUFF, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!joshua, some annoying neighbour tropes, a little bit of pining, wintery pizzazz, joshua is a hopeless romantic :( 

✧✎ synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong. 

✧✎ a/n: oooUUooouu YES! this is a gift to my lovely secret santa, @luvshuas !! ♡ in my first ask, i learned that dani liked using paint by numbers, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS ADORABLE so i helped use it to create this fic! dani, you are such a joy to talk to AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XOXOXO !! :D

Last week, someone new had moved into the empty apartment one floor above yours. You didn’t know who. Not their name, not their face, just that they occupied the once vacant space of room 24D. Supposedly, their next-door neighbours had already brought them some housewarming gifts. A watering can filled with flowers, a wreath of white candles, and an old sewing tin now converted into a container for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

All closely resembling the gifts you received during your first week at the apartment complex. It made sense though, considering most rooms were home to very elderly couples. At first, you planned a brief gap in your day to visit this stranger and welcome them to such a small complex. Find out if they were old or young, endearing or irritable, sensible or flat out crazy. But you never visited room 24D, because you were currently in a moat about your ex-partner.

An extremely deep, inescapable moat.

Not only had they broken up with you on the day you planned to introduce them to your parents, they decided it would be most efficient to do so through a stupid text message. From Monday to Friday, you’d been moping in a curled-up ball on the couch, blowing into tissues and flicking through the holiday romcoms even though they were all so cookie-cutter and dull. To make matters worse, it had been snowing all week, shutting you indoors as a draft built up outside the windowsills.

You had completely forgot about the newbie who’d just moved in upstairs. Until one day, when they decided to make their presence known in the most jarring way possible.

That particular morning, you were finally feeling stable enough to not eat dry, stale cereal straight from the box. You were feeling well enough to avoid another twelve hours moulding into the couch. While a cold wind blew against the windows and rattled the glass, you poured yourself some tea with the new teapot your mother parceled as an early present. And that’s when you heard it: an eruption of electric sound from the floor directly above yours. It sounded like a guitar, if that guitar were plugged into a massive amp and its chords were being plucked by one thousand fingers.

Coincidentally, you spilt tea, scalding and runny, all over the countertop. It started dribbling down your cupboards and creating blotches on the tiled flooring. At random, the sound stopped.

By lunchtime you were unwinding in the shower, your eyes shut as the water poured onto your face and streamed toward the drain. When you squeezed out some shampoo onto your fingers, you heard the chord progression again. This time louder, if that was even possible. The bottle flung from your wet hands and crashed against the floor, startling you half to death, a trail of wasted shampoo then painted to the wall. But the sound didn’t stop immediately. Unlike last time, the stranger railed on their guitar for half an hour at least.

Yet the last straw didn’t come until evening.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a water jar next to your elbow, you were using your new paint by numbers kit. You had been waiting all day to try it, brushing in the mesmerizing colours of a watery-purple landscape. For the last time that day, you were jolted by the riff of an electric guitar, causing you to jerk a huge, thick streak of black paint right across the paper, effectively ruining it. How horrible. How Terrible.

And you were not going to let the incident slide.

Room 24D. 

The room directly above yours. After banging your fist rather inhospitably against the door, you couldn’t lie that the face which greeted you was a definite shock. A young man probably in his early twenties, with curly, brown hair styled neatly yet in disarray, and these wide, glass-like eyes that felt so penetrating you were afraid to glare him down. In fact, you were a bit nervous.

“I don’t know where you stayed at last, b-but at this complex, people don’t usually slam on their electric guitars.”

But so what if you were nervous? You had grown accustomed to sharing this complex with seniors. The thought of someone this young (and admittedly – quite beautiful) had somewhat stunted your brain. The stranger looked at you as though he had nothing to say. He started bobbing his head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing it doesn’t happen ‘cause everyone here is over seventy and crochets scarves until bedtime. It’s not my fault you’re the only one who’s still got decent hearing.”

Your eyes narrowed; your brow heavily creased.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

 He hesitated at first, then replied, “Joshua.”

“Okay, Joshua, I’d rather have everyone in this building crocheting scarves out the damn window if it meant not listening to a stupid electric guitar all day. You ruined my paint by numbers kit.”

Joshua laughed. “Your what?” He then flashed a grin which suggested he was holding back a satirical comment.

“My paint by numbers kit!” You repeated, feeling your nervousness dissolve into irritation. “It’s ruined, and I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. My whole week has been awful and you just made it even worse. So there. I hope you’re happy.”

For some reason, Joshua leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like someone who had all the time in the world. He appeared way too comfortable. Something about it irked you while simultaneously pulling this weird, fuzzy string in your chest. The boy folded his arms and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Why was your week awful?” He questioned.

There was a sweetness to his voice which hadn’t been there before, and you absolutely weren’t going to fall for it, even if it sounded like he ate a spoonful of honey and might taste just as good.

“No. Forget it,” you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, “I said what I had to say. Just be quieter, please.”

You turned around sharply, making your way toward the elevator based at the end of the corridor. Those magnetic eyes of his seemed to be glued to your backside, an almost palpable feeling.

“Okay!” He called out. “Great chat! Nice to meet you too!”

The boy was being wholly sarcastic of course. After returning to your apartment, you cleaned up the kitchen table, sweeping away your paint by numbers kit into a drawer just in case you were one day struck with the motivation to fix it up. Probably not.

“Uh—excuse me? You called me, remember? So don’t go shifting the fault like always. I just can’t believe how immature you are! And, you know what, I’m hanging up now! Don’t call back!”

Smashing your finger against the phone screen, you ended the call, silencing the aggravated voice that had pounded through the line just a second before. An unfortunate misdial resulted in your ex phoning you at the supermarket. The interaction immediately turned south, prompting you to hurry outside into the snow, wedging the brown paper bag of produce underneath your arm and against your chest, all while you barked into the phone with the other hand.

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat; your fingertips numb and stiff. Your pacing, impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground. Things had been difficult enough without your ex invading even the most boring parts of your life, and now a mundane stop at the market had left you intensely unsettled.

As you huffed a web of your breath into the air, you spotted something unexpected: Joshua helping Mrs. Akané load the groceries into her small silver-bullet car. She lived alone on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, one of the kindest old ladies in the whole building. Every winter she had knitted you a pink pair of mittens. When Joshua opened the car door for her, she gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and her patented rosy-cheeked smile.

Since you scorned him for his abrasive guitar playing, it only happened less often, though it was never any quieter. You realized that he belonged in a band. From time to time they would take the stage at the downtown bar, engendering a space so packed it was nearly impossible to wriggle to the counter for a quick drink. Joshua invited you to his Friday night gig – which was tonight – and while you had contemplated the decision to attend, the disheartening encounter with your ex had officially soiled the mood.

Joshua noticed you, probably looking cold and mad.

“So,” he began, “are you coming tonight?”

Adjusting the groceries underneath your arm, you shrugged, meanwhile the hollow nature of your eyes screamed a blatant no. If anything, you wanted to be back on that living room couch, eating an entire tray of frosted shortbread cookies and dabbing at your tears.

“Seriously?” Joshua frowned. “You’re gonna pass? It is ‘cause you’re still mad about the guitar playing? I’m sorry, okay.”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, no. It’s not because of your disruptive, loud guitar playing. I’m just not having a good day.”

Bits of snow began to powder Joshua’s brown hair. His cheeks were blushed and his nose rosy.

“No offense,” the boy laughed, “but it seems like you’re never having a good day.” He then shook his head, scattering the snowflakes from between the fibres of his hair. “How about you come to our little concert shindig thing, listen to our set – which is great, I promise – then we can talk about it, back at my place.”

For a moment, you paused, and this perplexed expression briefly eclipsed your features. Did he just subtly attempt to persuade you into some sort of… Date? No, it was too soon for anything like that. He was probably joking anyways (despite his straight face).

“I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe another time.”

You started carrying the brown bag of produce to your car, parked just down the street. Joshua chuckled and tagged along at your side, the snow crunching softly under your feet.

“When’s another time?” He asked.

Throwing open the car door and sliding the bag inside, you sighed. “Another time is another time. It’s self-explanatory.”

“So you’re not coming?” Joshua questioned in finality.

“No.” You replied, rubbing your cold fingers together, attempting to spark some warmth. “I’m not.”

It was then that Joshua took your hands in his, a gesture that completely flicked you off your axis, and started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off. He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his pink, very pretty lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy. Not only were you heating up significantly, but you felt too hot. Scary hot.

“That’s a shame.” Joshua said, releasing your hands carefully, like he’d just touched gold. “But I can wait for another time.”

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Most likely because you were regretting the decision to not attend Joshua’s gig at the bar. The fact that no matter how hard you pushed, memories of your past relationship would still linger like a heavy mist, preventing you from being happy, from detaching, from forming new connections. Wet drops of snow tapped against your window. And then, at around one in the morning, you heard a knock at your apartment door.

Joshua. Evidently intoxicated. His guitar case slung over his back. A foggy sort of look disrupting his usual countenance.

“Hey there,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye, “couldn’t get into my room. Think I could crash—” the boy stopped midsentence to yawn and hiccup, his face flushed pink, “crash here?”

“Did you walk home from the bar?” You asked, disregarding his inquiry. 

“No, Jihoon drove me.” Joshua answered, bracing his hand against the threshold. “Pretty please? Can I stay?”

“Fine.”

You took the dark green guitar case from Joshua’s back, stamped with numerous luggage stickers that made it seem as though he’d flown all over the globe. After settling the case beside the couch, you helped Joshua lie down, though he flopped rather ungracefully with his face squished into a pillow.

For an awkward moment, you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs as Joshua squirmed onto his back.

“Do you want a glass of water?” You proposed.

Joshua carded a hand through his brown locks and further dishevelled them. His face seemed to glow and the manner in which his eyes softly shut had you feeling oddly sympathetic. Like you needed to take care of him.

Rather than answering your question, Joshua sighed.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me.” He said. “I looked forward to seeing you there all week. I told my friends about you.”

Your toes dug into the carpet; teeth fastened into your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if he was rambling drunken nonsense or being wholly truthful. Joshua titled his head to the side, nestling his cheek comfortably against the pillow.

“Like I said, there’ll be another time.”

“Can I have a blanket?” He mumbled sleepily.

Disappearing into your bedroom for a moment, you grabbed Joshua a spare blanket which often lied next to you on the bed, just in case it got a little too cold at night. Your heating was fairly shabby.

“Here you go.” You said, dropping it on him.

After pulling the fabric up to his chin and spending a minute getting comfy, Joshua started smiling, lashes long against his cheeks.

“Appreciate it.” He replied. ”Kick me out early if you want.”

When Joshua scheduled his next gig at the bar, you made sure to be there, settled near the back at the cocktail counter. As you anticipated, the space filled up quickly, and you kept tucking in your legs whenever someone scooted by to use the washroom or find a better vantage point. You didn’t mention that you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise which had oddly excited you. Like you were someone important to him, even though you probably weren’t.

You enjoyed his band’s performance. While sipping at something syrupy and a little too cherry flavoured, you couldn’t help but smile behind the glass, shake your foot even, as Joshua strummed down on the electric guitar. There was a pink-haired drummer seated behind him, and a bassist with a dashing, heavenly smile. Eventually, the tone of their music shifted near the end of the set. Joshua exchanged his electric guitar for the acoustic one kept in that dark green, stickered case. And when he started to sing a slower, more sentimental song, you felt something cotton-like in your chest.

How could his voice be this soft? How could it turn so sweet? How could his eyes switch from a powerful ripple to calm water? And why were you heating up all over? The glass hit your knee as you continued to watch Joshua sing, as though you’d fallen into a trance, like a sailor caught by the lullaby of a siren.

But then, as your eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, they attached to some who looked awfully familiar.

Goddammit. Of course.

Why did your stupid ex have to be everywhere? 

Why did they have to invade every aspect of your life? Especially the enjoyable parts? Once the stage ended and Joshua began thanking the crowd for an energetic reaction, they turned around and grabbed their friend excitedly. Yet, the thrill on their face disappeared the second they noticed you, glaring bitterly, angrily, still clearly hurt. That’s when you decided to leave.

You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being shouted. Pausing beneath a street lamp, you attempted to peer through the heavy flurries sweeping down from the night sky. A silhouette began to take shape. Joshua finally pressed through into the light, without his jacket, his equipment, or even a damn sweater.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned him, wondering how cold he must be feeling in that white t-shirt.

Joshua took a few more steps forward. “I saw you there,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath, “but then you just stormed out. I nearly threw myself down the back entrance trying to catch up with you, y’know. How do you walk that damn fast?”

“I just—I wanted to beat the crowd home.” You lied.

Joshua took in another big breath, then nodded his head. “So, what did you think? You like the music?”

“It’s cool… Why did you leave without a jacket? I mean, it’s snowing like crazy. You’re gonna get hypothermia or something.”

“Well, I didn’t want to let you get away.” The boy laughed, brushing off some flurries compiling on his shoulder. “It was great to see you there. But, why didn’t you tell me? Why the secrecy.”

You shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

At that, you weren’t expecting Joshua to have a response. Maybe he’d be a little puzzled and have to think about it. Instead, he seemed to be formulating a surprise of his own.

“Because I have a song for you,” Joshua revealed, “I wrote it with Jihoon. It’s an acoustic thing. But I could turn it hard rock too.”

It felt like someone had turned the table. Ironically, you were the one struggling to reply, your brow furrowing in the dim light as you stared at this boy with his glowing cheeks and his hair disrupted by the flakes of snow. You sniffled, cold air hitting your lungs.

“Why would you write a song about me?”

No one had ever done such a gesture for you before. Not that you had been acquainted with many musicians or lyricists. You felt strange, but also warm, and heart-fluttery, and like you were possibly falling for someone harder than ever before. Joshua approached you tentatively and grabbed your hand, his eyes soft.

“Probably because I like you.” Joshua murmured. “A lot.”

Your heart started to pound, and it felt like someone was banging their fists against your chest. Even if you had denied it in the beginning, the truth was that you liked Joshua too. And yet, those reciprocating words somehow fell to the bottom of your feet. Because as much as you wanted it, you still weren’t ready for someone new.

“Joshua…” you squeezed his hand and looked into those endearing eyes of his, “I-I can’t right now. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and now that’s over, but I’m still trying to get over it. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Joshua answered, running his thumb between your knuckles. “You’re not ready, I get it.”

Breathing out slowly, you smiled at him. 

You were yanking open all the drawers in the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly you had stuck that little metal whisk. A bowl of unmixed cupcake batter was waiting to be stirred. Each year that it was open, you signed up for the Complex Gift Exchange, and it just so happened that sixty-five-year-old Miss Dupont really liked vanilla cupcakes. You pulled out the drawer that had been hiding the ruined, stained paper courtesy of your paint by numbers kit.

Rolling your eyes, you slammed it shut, only to realize you’d left the whisk sitting behind the big bag of flour on the counter.

Even though you had turned down Joshua that one night in the snow, he didn’t act spiteful or weird about it. And somehow, you two had grown closer since. Joshua was very easy to talk to. He was a good listener. No matter how many times you ran into each other on the elevator, or at the supermarket, the letter boxes in the lobby or at the car lot, Joshua always made time to listen to whatever mishap had bothered you that day. He still railed on his electric guitar every now and then, though you were beginning to accept it. Baby steps.

Apparently, one of his bandmates was visiting today. 

You knew exactly when he’d arrived too, because as soon as you pulled the cupcakes out from the oven to cool, this wave of intense sound; drumming, symbols, guitar, everything, exploded from the floor above, like someone had just thrown a clump of instruments into a hurricane. You stared up at the ceiling winsomely and sighed.

Dressed in a long, thick winter coat, you went outside the complex to visit the garden, now blanketed by snow and sparkling white. You brushed off the bench that had once sat before a fiery pink row of petunias and took a seat. It was much quieter.

“Hey!”

Or so you thought.

Turning around, you gazed up at the apartment complex, spotting two familiar faces hanging out from a fourth story window.

“What?!” You shouted back.

Joshua grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth as an amplifier. “Were we being too loud?!” He asked.

“Yeah!” His friend yelled. “Were we too loud?!” You had learned the other face was Jihoon, the band drummer, his hair now a rusty shade of crimson. He helped write most of their music.

“No, I’m just sitting out here in the wind and snow and below zero temperatures because I want to!” You replied at the top of your lungs.

Waving at you apologetically, Joshua kept smiling. “Sorry! I’m gonna kick him out soon!” He pointed at Jihoon. “If you want, you can come up here and listen to our last rehearsal!”

Jihoon shoved Joshua’s head out of the way.

“Don’t come up here!” The drummer exclaimed. “It’s not even close to ready yet. He’s just saying that because he’s in—”

A hand clamped swiftly to the boy’s mouth, muffling the remainder of his sentence like it was top secret. Joshua then dragged him away from the open window. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion, you stared at the vacant space until Joshua reappeared a moment later, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that!” Joshua called. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m in no rush!” You answered, turning back around.

It was true. There weren’t too many pressing things you needed to get done today, besides making the buttercream frosting for Miss Dupont’s cupcakes. The weather wasn’t even as terrible as you made it seem. The wind was light, and the shining sun helped mitigate the usual bitterness of winter. It was quite nice out.

Until about ten minutes later, when Joshua threw a snowball at your back. You spun around quickly, glaring at the boy who was dusting his hands clean of snow, standing near the complex doorway. In that moment, you wanted to be angry at him. But, to be honest, you felt like laughing instead.

“Shouldn’t I be the one throwing snowballs at you?”

Joshua shrugged. “If you could even hit me.”

“Keep your eyes open tonight, Joshua Hong.” You comically threatened him. “Where are you going, anyways?”

“I have to get my person a gift for the exchange thing.” He said, pulling a hat over his hair. “And a new guitar pick.”

“Have fun with that.”

Then, waiting for him to turn around, you hastily packed together a snowball and threw it against the back of his coat.

Miss Dupont somehow figured out who was responsible for her gift. She asked you to give her the cupcakes early, because she swore, she was had been able to smell them baking through the air ducts. Maybe you added too much vanilla. Everyone was supposed to exchange their gifts tomorrow, leaving them by the door or delivering them in person. You didn’t have a clue as to who could be preparing your gift. As long as it wasn’t another candle wreath to collect dust in your closet, you figured you’d be fine with it.

Tonight would be your last opportunity in a long while to watch Joshua’s band perform at the downtown bar. You’d missed their last show, ruminating over the possibility of encountering your ex again; feeling those horrible emotions which were nothing more than poison in disguise. After the New Year, Joshua was planning to visit South Korea with his bandmates for a few weeks. It would be awfully strange to not hear another symphony from his electric guitar, or Jihoon’s drumkit. Jeonghan never really stopped by much.

It was at least an hour or so before Joshua was scheduled to perform. So, you decided to walk down the street to the lane of trees now wrapped and curled with lights. There were small, twinkling white lights. Large, blue lights shaped like hanging icicles. Some blinked in a specific pattern while others morphed colours. At night, it made quite the spectacle. Many people had stopped, much like yourself, to admire the aurora and pull their significant other a little bit closer. You huffed, hating this lonesomeness inside you.

But then you felt a quick pair of fingers dance up your back, and immediately recognized his eyes shining like stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at the lights.” Joshua remarked, zipping up his jacket. “They’ve been up for a while now.”

“It’s always a magnet for couples.” You told him, glancing around at all the handholding and heads leaned adoringly on shoulders. “And I am—well, I was, standing here alone.” Inside your coat pocket, you played with a piece of lint, realizing that perhaps you finally felt ready and significantly healed to consider another relationship.

Looking at you from the corner of his eye, Joshua nodded.

It seemed as though the lights were a place he visited frequently, even amongst all the couples. To you, Joshua seemed like someone who was inspired by love. The not so subtle nature of awkward yet enamored eye contact which made people giggly. Holding onto the very tips of someone’s fingers because you couldn’t let go of their hand even for a second. Pressing an ear to a comfortable chest, listening for a rhythmic, thumping heartbeat. You bet he liked kisses too. Quick kisses on cheeks and gentle kisses on noses and slow, warm kisses to the mouth which could set a fire in your belly.

Out of the blue, you asked him something personal.

“How fast do you usually fall for someone?”

Joshua’s eyes traced the twinkling lights of the tree, all the way to the very top.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Kicking at a lump of hard snow, you sighed. “I think I fall too quickly. Maybe that’s why my last relationship ended the way it did. I just… I don’t know, it could be that I jumped in without knowing what’s beneath me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The boy glanced at you, snowflakes already beginning to stick in his hair. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. I mean, there’s always going to be some chance in a relationship. You don’t know until you’re in it.”

“I guess so.” You replied. “When I think about it, anything’s better than getting text message-dumped right before a family dinner.” Joshua wasn’t a stranger to the humiliating affairs of your past relationship. One night, after one too many beverages at the bar, you introduced him to the entire story.

“Bad luck.” The boy said.

“Bad taste, more like.” You sighed. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

Joshua shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Seriously, the right person will come along.”

Short laughter burst through your nose, and you looked at him with a knowing, lighthearted grin. “Are you supposed to be that person, Joshua Hong?”

“I’d like to think I am.” He chuckled, his cheeks getting rosier. “But I know you’re not ready. I can be patient, though.”

“So, you’re going to wait for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua nodded. “For you, and you only? Of course.”

At that, something deep in your chest began to stir. The feeling robbed you of your words and left you breathless. Afraid of what you might do in the silence between you, quickly, you changed the subject.

“Am I going to hear that special song you wrote? Or have you scrapped it already?”

“You’ll hear it.” Joshua said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ivory guitar pick. “Save your applause for the very end, though. I know you might be tempted to start cheering, come up on stage in front of everyone and try to kiss me or something.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to laugh, your breath becoming a thin cloud in the still coldness of winter.

“You wish, Joshua Hong.”

He sighed, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re right. I do.”

At approximately five o’clock in the morning, you were awakened by a fist banging at your front door. For a moment, you believed it was nothing more than part of a fuzzy dream, and simply tossed over in bed as your arms dug further under the pillow. However, the banging resumed almost instantly, and though it was very muffled, someone was calling your name.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from between the sheets and into the washroom, taking a quick sip of water before splashing some to your face. In a loose pair of shorts and a poorly adjusted tank-top, you stumbled to the front door, throwing it open while yawning.

“J-Joshua?” You mumbled, rubbing circles to your eye.

He stood on the opposite side of the threshold with a glimmery-red gift bag in his hand. For some reason, he was dressed in his jacket, those dark brown locks of his seeming damp or partly soaking as they were brushed back from his forehead. His cheeks and mouth were rosy, eyes glistering, and he was breathing deep.

You thought he looked gorgeous.

“Hey!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, as though he’d forgotten how early it was. “So, uh, weird news. Turns out we’re leaving for South Korea today, and we have to catch this seven-am flight. We’re kinda pressed for time. Jeonghan’s been helping me throw all my shit into these suitcases and—anyways, besides the point.” Taking in another breath, Joshua then held up the pretty red gift bag. “I got you for the Gift Exchange. Well—not really. But I made Mrs. Akané switch with me. This is for you.”

The sudden splurge of information had for feeling even more disorientated than when you first awakened. Joshua had to leave already? Had he been packing ever since you walked home together from his show? He pulled strings to get you for the Gift Exchange?

Reaching into the bag and pushing around some tissue paper, you pulled out a rectangular-shaped kit. It felt fairly heavy.

And then you realized just what he’d gotten you.

“Really?” You smiled, letting the bag drop to the floor because all you cared about was the project in your hands. “Another paint by numbers kit? I didn’t even know they sold these here!”

Joshua nodded, brushing some melted drops of snow off his cheek. “It wouldn’t have arrived on time if I ordered it online. Trust me, it was a process. I had to get Jeonghan’s grandma to make some calls because she’s friends with this craft store lady.” He half-sighed, half-laughed. “I just remembered you were so upset about it when I met you. About a lot of things. And I never stopped feeling sorry. I know I laughed at it and everything, but I thought it was cute.”

You brought the project to sit on the dinner table. Looking outside into the street light, you were shocked at how heavily it was snowing. Huge, fluffy clumps. No wonder Joshua’s hair was so damp and his skin so flushed. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were sitting on that barstool near the back of the dim room, listening to him sing and feeling like you were starting to love all over again. Now, Joshua was being whisked away.

“I should really get going.” Joshua said, rubbing his pink nose, “Jeonghan and Jihoon are waiting for me down there.”

“W-Wait!” You exclaimed before the boy could disappear.

Joshua paused, though you could read the look of urgence coloured to his face. It was merely a few seconds you stood in that spot, fiddling anxiously with your fingers and struggling to take another step, yet it felt as though time had stretched itself out like plasticine. 

And even though it was slightly terrifying, you had never felt so warm and full of thrill until you had crossed the space to kiss him. Your hands pushed against Joshua’s chest, searching for stability, as you experienced the soft sensation of your lips pressed so desperately to his. Joshua grabbed your cheek in his cold hand to tilt your head a little more left. He stared at you with a hazy, sort of dreamlike look, just for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Am I making you late?” You laughed breathily in between the heated breadth of another kiss.

Joshua shook his head, taking your face in both his hands, moulding his mouth against yours in a smile.

“They can wait just a minute longer,” he answered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right when I have to leave. You’re really screwing me over, here.”

“Then finish it when you get back.” You smirked.

This time, you were certain of something: you hadn’t jumped too soon. You weren’t going to crash. You were falling in love.

✧✎ a/n: the end the end!! happy holidays !! <3 honestly think it’s kind of the dream to get joshua as ur apartment neighbour xoxo. HOPE U LIKED THIS DANI AND THAT IT GAVE YOU SOME SMILES heheh. i actually haven’t written for joshua in quite a while so i rly appreciated getting to experiment with this. i also love the idea of joshua in a band and being a sappy romantic who always writes abt his future muse ;_; i’m not a huge fluff person BUT I WILL GLADLY GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THAT! 

[twelfthremedy]

Hestia Offerings

"Hestia is the virgin Goddess of the hearth, home, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state."

Large Altars:

Homemade meals

Homemade baked goods

Breads

Sweet wine

Fruits

Pure water

Olive oil

Hot tea

Tea kettles

Gold, light purple, black, silver, and dark red candles

Scented candles that are comforting to you or remind you of home

Scented incense such as Angelica, iris, lavender, and peony

Pottery

Art or statues of donkeys and pigs

Pictures of family, friends that are like your family, or your pets

Pictures of homes you want to live in one day or homes you have lived in

Pictures of architecture that you like

Small/Hidden Altars:

Teacups

Small kitchen antiques like teaspoons, tea towels, etc.

Childhood memories like stuffed toys, baby clothes, old photos, etc.

Keys

Homegrown herbs

Toys or art of donkeys and pigs

Plants such as angel's trumpet, poppy, goldenrod, hollyhock, and yarrow

Leaves or blooms from a chaste tree

Gems and metals such as amethyst, garnet, gold, silver, and brass

Tea light candles (real or fake)

Your favorite poetry or poetry you have written for Her

Your favorite books

Stories you have written

Art of flames, fire, candles, etc.

Crafts that you've made

Garmets that you have made such as clothing, blankets, beanies, etc.

Homemade lotions, bath bombs, shower gel, bubble bath, etc. (You can ask Her to bless them then use them, She would be happy about doing so)

Devotional Acts:

Donate to those who have lost their homes, or help them rebuild

Donate to food drives

Give to the homeless

Do little (or big) acts of kindness

Per tradition, Hestia should get the first of all food offerings and burnt offerings. Furthermore, you should set aside the first bite of your meal for Her

If you have a fireplace, light it for Her or build Her altar around it

Meditate next to a fire

If you can't make a fire, listen to the sound of fire on YouTube or elsewhere

Read poetry or a book

Make a playlist for Her and play it while you clean or cook

Clean your house/room and keep it nice and tidy

Take a cooking or baking class

Try making your own bread

Learn how to sew, knit, crochet, etc.

Collect recipes and keep a recipe book

Host celebrations at your home

Remember your ancestors and learn more about them

Spend time with your family, friends, and/or pets

Try incorporating a veil with your outfits or just wear one when you give Her offerings

Take care of yourself, your mental and physical health. Your body is a home for you after all

Treat 'yo self! Seriously, She enjoys Her followes loving and treating themselves well. Take a hot bath, eat some ice cream, chill at home for a day, etc

Pray to Her for protection, inspiration, happiness, guidance, and help getting rid of negative entities in the home, peace in the home, good food, an abundance of food, independence, help to start/tending to the hearth, and strong family bonds

Sources:

Artwork is not mine. I couldn't find the source so if anyone has it I'll add it.

https://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/Hestia.html

https://vocal.media/futurism/ways-of-worship-hestia

https://aminoapps.com/c/pagans-witches/amp/blog/honoring-hestia-the-hearth-goddess/qkpL_lE4tRuwrDv5BlKx5Ra6bdwGzYG5Veq

If you enjoyed this post, consider buying me a Ko-fi!

[snowlessknitter]

While I Was Away (Or, Ermahgerd...Finished Objects!)

While I Was Away (Or, Ermahgerd…Finished Objects!)

In case the title didn’t give it away…La vie en rose et violet is finally complete! I actually finished this baby on September 6th (and I know this because I wrote the date down in notes I was keeping for the blog in the event of a much longer hiatus).  She turned out to be a thing of beauty.  It took me almost 6 months to finish, but I love how it turned out. Name: La vie en rose et violet /…