#and i have two more skeins to fuck up

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

I failed at winding two skeins of yarn tonight and tbh that was more upsetting than infected cauliflower-headed people on TV.

[pacific-rimbaud]

pac one thing that is part of your writing style is that readers will always discover more on the second or third time reading (which maybe could be said about books in general, but in your stories is like a "aha!" moment we have). do you think about it when writing? is this something conscious you do? I feel like with other authors there isn't much more information to grasp after the first read, but you give us Easter-Eggs that make the re-read experience that much fun.

All storytelling has reveals of some kind, and those need to be seeded at the beginning (you're going for "Ohhh!" not "What?"). I'm definitely aware of adding elements that won't make sense until a second read but also don't have to be absorbed, like Pansy finding "a random skein of fine soft yarn with much of its length gone crinkly" under her bed in Remember One Thing. It doesn't mean anything until chapter 11, when it very much does, but it's far from the only clue and not an issue if a reader doesn't connect those two moments. And then there are lines that maybe only I, someone who has sat with a story for many hours, am going to pay attention to. There's a set of connected lines in On the Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning I'm extremely fond of, but they're maybe a bit subtle:

"Life is cruel, Granger. Love’s only one side of the coin. It’s pain on the other."

It comes up again a bit later:

Water fills her eyes. He jams his hands in his pockets to keep from opening his arms. “Was this the wrong thing to do?” he asks.  Burning is pain. Pain is a coin. Her mouth forms a soundless no.

And at the end:

Draco finds Perseus in the field of stars outside the window. “Old magic. Ancient. Practically fairy stuff.” “What does it do?” “Long life.” Perseus looks like a fucking dancing clown. “Long love.” “And?” Flip a coin once, and the odds are even. Now flip it for a lifetime; the fairies love a game.   “Less of the pain.”

There's a probability reference in there for good measure lol

Anyway, I'm a lover of mystery fiction, which probably plays into a habit of incorporating clues. And I'm elated that folks go back and find that stuff. Thank you. ❤️

[rayshippouuchiha]

Alrighty! Please excuse the poor lighting.

Behold!

There was a sale of Bernat Baby Blanket yarn in the Dappled ombres so I bought 3 skeins of 4 colors and the last skein of the blue. The aqua blanket is a diagonal granny stitch, the pink is the classic granny stitch, the yellow is a C2C (corner-to-corner) stitch, and the purple is a simple V stitch. They all have a single crochet stitch in however many rows needed to get the blankets to a similar size. The void photo-bombing is my youngest boy, Wilson. The blue blanket is in the Alpine stitch, which I love love love! Especially in the fluffy blanket, chenille, and velvet yarns. The duck I made with leftover purple yarn to test out a newly bought pattern for a commission from my husband's coworker. I'm planning to make more coordinating ducks for the other 3 blankets.

I finished this blanket during a weekend trip up to NY with a side trip to CT with my mother to visit family. We drove, so I had a lot of time on my hands to work on this. I included a close up of the yarn so you can see the colors better. My mom so loved the yarn too, I gave her the reminder of the last skein. She's got plans now. The yarn, which is acrylic medium weight, has been in my hoard since A.C. Moore closed. I'm trying to use up some yarn before buying any more.

I have another one almost done in blue, aqua, and lime green also Bernat Baby Blanket yarn. It's not done yet since I need to sew another liner in the shape of a ball and stuff it with polyfil to make it machine washer friendly. The pattern is from Moogly's squish line and can be found on her blog and YouTube channel.

Give me a sec and I'll share photos of the two projects on my hook currently. I just learned there's a 10 image limit per post.😆

holy fucking hell babe. All of these are so goddamn gorgeous and the octopus?? to die for. seriously never let anyone tell you that you're not making art cause goddamn

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

Delicate, Chapter Six: You’re On Your Own, Kid

< prev chapter

CW: SA, it’s not described but it has happened. skip from “to be fair” until “quiet weeping” if you’re not comfortable. a bit heavier than usual, but i tried to keep it as light as possible. next ones will be more fun, dw <3

ALECTO @ alectocarrow

Narcissa Black and her unknown ‘friend’ spotted at the party that Lily Evans (the Black Studios’ n1 enemy) also attended…We knew you didn’t like your parents, Narcissa, no need to drag your groupie into this!

narcissa @ thenarcissablack

alecto, you know the addy. pull up anytime and say that shit to my face. i won’t not fuck you the fuck up. period.

ALECTO @ alectocarrow

Is this a threat? Are you threatening me? I’m talking to my lawyer.

narcissa @thenarcissablack

tell ‘em it’s a promise not a threat.

marlsboro @ mckinnon

what if i said narcissa black got that dawg in her?

Euphemia Potter @ euphemiapotter

Hello! I wanted to thank everyone who came to our small gathering last Saturday, hope you all had a good time! 😊 And fun fact! My husband Fleamont is a really good lawyer! ❤️

“So…they didn’t fuck?”

“Nope.”

“They didn’t even kiss?”

“None of that.”

“And she’s like that?”

Amelia pointed to Narcissa, who was busy reorganising the twins’ office, moving the small prizes, photo frames and certifications of an inch from their original positions in a joyous frenzy. Edgar looked just as incredulous (and worried) as his sister.

“I can hear you!” Narcissa said, tiptoe on a chair trying to reach a particularly high shelf. “Your office could use some colour, guys. I could buy you some flowers! Oh and Mel, I want to add another song to the set list for Friday.”

“It’s a twenty minute performance, you can’t sing twenty two songs!” Amelia protested, arms wide in exasperation.

“But it’s really important to me,” Narcissa whined, batting her eyelashes. “It’s, like, vital. Esssential. Pretty pretty pretty please?”

“It doesn’t work with me, Cissa, you know it.”

“Eddie?”

“Nope, we’re not doing that.” Edgar got up from his chair with his hands raised, and Mary watched him cross the room decidedly, pick Narcissa up from her legs and throw her over his shoulder like she was a bag of potatoes. A screaming, kicking bag of potatoes.

“He’s like the Big Friendly Giant.” Mary whispered.

“I feel violated.” Narcissa snarled once she was delicately deposited on the couch.

Edgar ignored her, sitting back in his chair.

“What happened at the party, Cissa?” he asked, calm as ever.

Narcissa smirked, and told them she had talked to Alice and about their promise (although it was more like a threat, but Mary wasn’t going to contradict her), but despite the passionate retelling, Amelia was unimpressed.

“Pick five songs. The show is in three days and we can’t change everything last minute because your crush stopped ignoring you.”

“She’s not my crush-“

“And Mary,” intervened Edgar, “The album is ready to drop. If you want, you can start writing that song with Lily now.”

Those words hit Mary like a bus.

“Yeah, about that…” she began, and all three turned to her. She felt her stomach turn to stone.

“I think we have a problem. I’ve been really focused on the album, so I haven’t written anything new in…four years? Probably?” she admitted, ashamed.

Mary was aware it was a problem: she had signed a contract, so the company expected her to make music. In her defence, lately she had been busy with the album and looking for a label, and she hadn’t really needed to write anything new in the past months, but still…Wasn’t she, as an artist, supposed to feel the need to write? Music was supposed to be an innate instinct, not a product bound by deadlines, yet Mary had lost the natural need to create songs. The notes sounded wrong, the words on paper were smudges of feelings Mary couldn’t extricate. A big skein of too much, a bunch of knots she couldn’t unravel.

Amelia and Edgar were quiet, the first impassive, the second worried, but Narcissa came to her rescue.

“It’s fine, Mary,” she shrugged, like it was no big deal, “Writer’s block is a bitch. If anything, working with Lily will help you.”

“Yeah,” agreed Amelia, though she didn’t seem too convinced. “It’s not a problem, it’s still early. We’ll drop the album, and you’ll have a lot of time to…overcome this block.”

“Maybe you’ve been overworking yourself,” offered Edgar, “You could try resting a bit, you deserve it. It may help your…creative juices flowing.”

“Don’t say creative juices, Ed, it’s disgusting,” scoffed Narcissa, but she threw Mary a fleeting glance.

So she was worried, but was trying to lighten the mood. Mary appreciated it.

“Now we gotta go. I have a set list to organize.” Narcissa smiled, waiting for Mary to also get up. But she stayed on the chair, looking at the twins.

“Amelia, Edgar,” she began, “I’ll do it. I promise.”

Edgar smiled, comforting.

He was such a good-natured man. A human Care Bear. Mary wanted to hug him.

“I have no doubts, Mary. But don’t worry, and take it easy,” he said.

~

Mary had doubts, was worried, and did not take it easy.

“Cissa, can we talk for a minute?” she asked as soon as they stepped into their apartment. “Before you go to your room and write down the best songs to impress Alice, that is.”

“I’ll pick my fluffiest, pinkest pen, lay in my bed, and kick my feet to do that,” she smirked to herself, taking off her shoes. “Get on the sofa while I make some hot chocolate for the occasion.”

As Narcissa slid into the kitchen, Mary got comfortable and closed her eyes. Like this, she could almost pretend she was back in her family home, basking in the sunlight filtering through the thin curtains of her window, listening for her brothers’ bickering or for the sound of her mum’s car parking in the garage.

She hadn’t called.

May was surprised by this, but not because she was expecting her mother to beg her to come back-no, she had been happy her daughter had decided to get a life of her own and stopped being a expense, but Mary was expecting her to get in contact to ask about her (still) unborn career, since many weeks had passed and Mary hadn’t released anything, and she didn’t usually pass an opportunity to say ‘i told you so’. Mary, however, was not going to call her and give her the chance on a silver platter.

She was willing to make an effort for her brothers, though.

She called them everyday, asked them about school, how things were at home. Theo was always full of anecdotes and questions, eager to tell and know, and he spoke quickly, trying to make Mary feel like she was still home. He ended every call with a ‘we miss you’, and each time Mary’s heart clenched.

Bingley, on the other hand, let Mary do all the talking. He usually picked up the phone, muttered an ‘hi’, and kept his mouth shut until Mary started asking questions. To which he rigorously answered with monosyllables or mumbling. It drove Mary insane, but she didn’t blame him-she couldn’t, really. She had to take care of him when their mum was too busy with work, becoming a sort of mother figure to him, and now he was left in a similar predicament Mary had been when she was just a few years younger than him.

Maybe she could go back to them. They needed her, she could help them with their schoolwork, do the chores, make sure they were asleep before their parents got home and awake in time for school. They were still kids. How could she leave them? She couldn’t even write songs, what had gotten into her?

“Okay, I’m back-wait, are you crying?” Mary barely registered Narcissa putting the cups down and sitting next to her, her words activating some traitorous mechanism in her eyes that turned them into waterfalls.

She tried to look at Narcissa, but her eyes were too watery to see anything, which made her feel even worse, so she completely gave up seeing and pressed her palms against her eyes, hiccuping. Mary felt Narcissa’s arms around her, and she let her head fall to her chest.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, but Narcissa kept her close.

“I’ll teach you to become a better liar when the time comes, sweetheart,” she joked, and Mary let out a strained laugh that sounded more like mix between a dying cat and an affronted seagull.

“I’m…decent,” she clarified, and apparently Narcissa found it an acceptable answer, because she let her go.

Mary grabbed the cup of chocolate and took a sip, focusing on the rich, warm drink rather than her rumply face.

“What’s wrong? Is it the writing block?” Narcissa asked softly.

“It’s nothing, really, I’m almost on my period, I get emotional-“

“Mary.” Narcissa interrupted her, delicate but firm. “You wanted to talk. What’s wrong?”

Mary sighed.

“Many things, actually, and I think this block is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Let’s start, then,” Narcissa grabbed her own cup of chocolate and snuggled up on her end of the sofa, like a kid waiting for a bedtime story. “Open up, let’s have a bonding experience.”

“I was thinking about my family,” Mary began, feeling a little silly being interrogated like that. “My brothers. And my mum. And it’s just…I-I’m confused. Torn. I mean, I’m extremely glad for everything that I’ve accomplished, and I don’t regret anything. On the other hand, though, I feel guilty. So fucking guilty, Cissa.”

She gulped, swallowing her tears.

“I left them. I told them I would always be there for them, and then I left and I don’t even regret it, and I fear I’ll end up like my mother and-“ Mary paused. “And a part of me wants to go back. But then I remember where I am, how I worked my ass off for the past months, and I feel like-like I deserve this. And I do. I worked hard, and I’ve earned it. And yet, every time I enjoy what I have, I can’t help but feel like I’m being unfair to my brothers, like I’m here at their expense. And I know it’s not fucking right, but why does my mind do this? Why do I even end up missing my parents, who were never there for me? What even is there to miss?”

Mary took a big breath, her cheeks hot from the unexpected outburst, and was glad to find Narcissa looking at her with not an ounce of judgement in her eyes.

She wasn’t trying to offer solutions right away, giving her some space to be heard instead.

“But I don’t think that’s the cause of this block. I think that dates back to ages ago, before I came here, when I was still looking for a label, a talent scout, or anything, really,” Mary continued, “I was desperate. I had just got out of high school, I had no job and no money, only a few songs waiting to be heard and pressure from my parents. I didn’t have real friends, only acquaintances, but I told them about my dream, my album, stuff like that. I’m not sure how much they cared, to be fair.

“One night, I went to a club with one of these acquaintances of mine. I didn’t go out often, but I‘ve always been a party girl, so when I did go out I always had fun, drinking, smoking and all that. And that night wasn’t much different from the others, at first: I was tipsy, but still ended up chatting with a guy on a bench. Since I was obsessed at the time, I started blabbing about my songs and my desperate need of a label, and at that the guy’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. He said he had contacts with the Black Studios, that his dad worked there, and that he could arrange an interview. I was euphoric. Then he said he wanted to offer me-his ‘future coworker’, he said- a drink, and when he came back he even dared me to down it in ten seconds. Like a game, you see. A joke. That’s the last thing I remember from that night. I woke up behind a bush a few hours later.”

~

Mary opened her eyes, the sun not out yet, but its rays already tinting the sky, timidly pushing away the dark blues and purples. A few stars still hung in there, resolute. It could’ve been a peaceful moment, but then Mary remembered she was lying on the ground, next to a bush right outside a club-a perfect spot for people in desperate need to piss, not ideal to fall asleep. She pushed herself up with her hands, and was surprised to find her whole body aching.

Mary checked her arms and found scratches, and her legs were bruised. Too much damage for a few hours sleeping on the ground.

What time was it? Had Sheryl already gone home? And where was that guy, Mulciber?

Suddenly the world seemed far, far away, and as a suspicion made its way in her mind, a horrible feeling started growing in her stomach, making her want to puke. She didn’t want to know what happened anymore. She wanted to go home, but her ride had left her.

“Hey girly, what are you doing there?” called a voice from a jeep that had just come to a stop next to her. It was a girl, maybe a bit older than her, with straight dark hair and flashy sunglasses and an exceptionally green eyeshadow.

“D’ya need a ride home?” said another girl, her blonde pigtails peeking from behind the first girl. She chewed noisily, and was also wearing bright blue eyeshadow.

“Jess, go help her up, for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh my God, I’m going!” a third girl shouted, coming out of the backseat. She had ridiculously high platforms and a small, tight pink dress, along with a white feather boa and a red wig. Mary thought she was hallucinating.

When she arrived, she crouched in front of her and looked at her with big, brown eyes.

“You okay? You look like a mess.”

Mary wasn’t okay. In fact, she was too confused to answer. The girl took out a tissue from her small purse and started cleaning her face, sweeping away the dirt from her cheeks and the leaves from her hair.

“A bit better. D’you need, like, a ride? I’m still tipsy but our driver, the blonde one, is stone cold sober, I swear. She refuses to drink because she doesn’t want to, like, piss in public bathrooms. Cus it’s too gross for her.”

Mary nodded, speechless, and the girl, Jess, helped her up and led her to the truck. She ended up in the seat between her and the green girl, who had left the spot at the front, and the two soon started to clean her up, fixing her dress, brushing her hair, they even took off her makeup and put a few skin care products. The girl in blue drove recklessly, but the trunk of the car smelled of weed and Mary had the absurd thought that maybe it had an effect on her own sense of self preservation, because she didn’t mind the danger. The girl in green started patting her head, and Mary had the feeling she was the reason behind the sweet scent in the trunk.

“Ok sweetie,” said the blonde, swerving to avoid a pedestrian who was crossing the street. “What happened?”

“I…don’t remember.”

“You got absolutely sloshed last night, didn’t ya? Typical.” smiled the girl in pink. She took out a gum and offered Mary one, and she took it.

“I wasn’t that drunk…A guy was supposed to bring me a drink and…” Mary’s head was too light, her memory blurry. “The last thing I remember is drinking with him. Then I was really sick and…I found myself bruised and aching on the pavement.”

There it was again. The knife in her stomach, the knot in her throat. She wanted to curl up on the seat and cry.

“You got roofied?” asked the girl in blue bluntly.

“Oi! Be more tactless, you cunt!” countered the girl in green.

“I’m taking her to the hospital, bitch. If she was raped, she needs proof.”

Raped. Proof. Mary was going to vomit.

The three girls began fighting, but Mary could only think about her brothers. It was Saturday. She had to help Bingley with a school project and she had promised Theo she’d take him to his friend’s house. She had to clean the house and go grocery shopping. All before her mum came home, or she’d start doing everything herself and then complain about it.

“Take me home,” she whispered, and the girls quieted down.

“Take me home, please.” Mary repeated.

The girl in blue threw her a heavy look from the rear view mirror.

“Are you not going to at least press charges?” she asked, popping her gum. “The police station isn’t far-“

“I don’t have the money or the time. And I was drunk, and I…” Mary let her head fall against the headrest, closing her eyes.

“No one would believe me. It’s a waste of time.”

At that, the girls lost all the will to fight. The girl in green took her hand, drawing small circles on her wrist with her thumb, while Jess rested her head on Mary’s shoulder.

For the rest of the ride, Mary let the air inside of the car, heavy with the smell of weed, perfume, pity and resignation, be filled with her quiet weeping.

~

“Three girls took me home. Now that I think about it, they were dressed like the PowerPuff Girls,” Mary snorted, although she felt more like crying rather than laugh, and Narcissa apparently didn’t find it funny either, her chocolate cold and forgotten now on the table in front of them.

“Mary…”

“Yeah?” she answered, her voice breaking. Narcissa opened her arms, and Mary barely hesitated before throwing herself at her. Narcissa hugged her tightly, as if she could squeeze all the pain away, crushing it until it imploded.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Mary cried.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Narcissa repeated.

“I didn’t say anything back then. And now, I feel like I can’t say anything,” Mary sobbed, “I have tried writing songs, but every time I sit down with a pen in hand, I can only think about that drive home. When I realised.”

“Why don’t you write about it, then?” Narcissa asked, sweetly, running her fingers through Mary’s hair.

“It’s scary, Cissa. It’s something I don’t want to remember, much less make it known. I don’t care about the public opinion, but I don’t want to be known as that one girl who was assaulted, I want to be known as Mary MacDonald.”

“You don’t have to release a song,” replied Narcissa. “You could write a letter, or a poem. It can be personal, or you can choose to publish it. I think it could be helpful, regardless of what you choose to do with it. Cathartic.”

“Do many singers even release this kind of stuff? It’s…very personal.” Mary pondered, ignoring the fact she had cried all over Narcissa’s (now soaked) arms and shirt. Mary was still holding her chocolate, which she miraculously hadn’t spilled.

“Some do. Take Evans, for example. She writes mostly autobiographical stuff, and the people love it.” Narcissa shrugged. “That’s also why I think she will be good for your block. She can bring out the best in you.”

Mary smiled.

“Can I tell you a secret? It has nothing to do with all this,” she whispered, lifting her face to meet Narcissa’s gaze.

“If you want.”

Mary paused for suspence.

“I’ve never listened to Lily’s songs.”

“What?” Narcissa exclaimed, shocked. “How is that possible? She’s literally a pop icon! Has been for years!”

“I know but-“ Mary laughed, returning to her half of the sofa to watch Narcissa freak out from a safe distance.

“She has won multiple awards, set records, made multiple cameos in shows and ads-“

“Cissa.” Mary interrupted her, smiling. “I’ve heard some of her most famous songs, I just thought it was funny because everyone expects me to know everything about her, starting from her discography.”

She took a sip from her cup, hiding a smile, but Narcissa seemed thoughtful. Mary had a feeling she was still thinking about what she’d told her, and was debating bringing it up again.

“What did you say his name was?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

“He said it was Mulciber, but I doubt he was stupid enough to tell his real name. Why?”

“There is a Mulciber who works in my family’s business,” she said, and Mary felt her blood speeding up in her veins.

“He’s Snape’s manager.”

~

“I am so fucked. So. Fucked.” Alice was pacing back and forth in her living room, or rather, had been pacing for a while now, with three pairs of eyes following her.

“I’m a hypocrite. What was I even thinking?” she cried, “Do you think I’m a hypocrite?”

Lily and Frank immediately responded with a choir of ‘noo’’s, while Marlene let out a dubious ‘meh…’ that made Alice pout.

“She didn’t even tell us what happened!” Lily protested, and Marlene just shrugged.

“Actually, can you tell us what happened? In detail, because I think we’ve already got the general gist,” intervened Frank.

“How long have you-you know what, I don’t care,” said Alice, and started walking again.

“Narcissa and I were in a relationship, it ended badly, and I haven’t spoken to her since. I thought she hated me, turns out she hates the fact that I don’t think about her all the time-“

“Which is a lie, because you do,” Marlene interrupted her, and Alice threw her a glare that made the blonde raise her hands in surrender.

“-anyways. Now she wants me to watch her performance and I am going fucking crazy because I have been ignoring her, and I don’t know what to expect.”

“Crazy detail, Fortescue.” Frank commented. Alice ignored him.

“Why don’t you listen to some of her songs, so you do know what to expect?” suggested Lily.

“I would have to endure listening to her voice for hours and I don’t think I can do that, the show is tomorrow.” Alice answered. “I swear, she makes me want to bang my head against the wall.”

“I think she only makes you want to bang-“

“Marlene, I’m begging you. Stop.”

She smirked from her stool.

“If the issue is time,” began Frank, “Lily and I have made a list of songs that might be about you.”

“And why in God’s name did you do that?” Alice asked, exasperated.

“We were bored and had a perfectly good whiteboard,” said Lily.

“Oi, we can use that as a bucket list when we watch the show!” Marlene exclaimed.

Alice wanted to rip her hair off. “Let’s organise a watch party while we’re at it,” she said ironically, covering her face with her hands.

“We’re all going to be watching the show, Alice,” replied Lily, “James and Sirius will also be performing. Marlene and I can go to Peter’s with Remus, if you want to be alone.”

“Yes, thank you. Sorry for banishing you from your own home.”

“It’s fine, Alice. We’ve been looking forward to going, actually.” Marlene said, comforting. She came closer to Alice and started patting her back. “When was this relationship with Narcissa, though? Before or after she left the Black Studios?”

“…It was when we were still at Hogwarts.”

“Ten years ago?” Frank spoke under his breath, and Marlene’s hand dropped from Alice’s back. Lily bit her bottom lip, possibly to refrain from saying something.

“Holy fucking shit, Alice. And you’re still like this?” commented Marlene.

“Of course I am. You would be like this, too, if you were in my place!” Alice protested.

Because what she had with Narcissa was incredible.

It was playful, youthful at first.

Thrilling and passionate in the middle.

A tragedy in the end.

But it was theirs, all throughout, and it was real. It was real for Alice, and maybe she was wrong, maybe it was real for Narcissa, too.

In twenty four hours, one of two scenarios would happen.

In the first, Narcissa’s songs were going to be about how badly Alice treated her, maybe they diminished their past to a silly teenage love and humiliated her publicly, other than break heart in even smaller pieces.

In the second, Narcissa apologised and confessed her undying love for her. Which, honestly, might be even worse.

The sound of Lily’s ringtone interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh!” her face lit up as soon as she saw the screen. “It’s Mary! I’ll be back in a sec!”

She didn’t even wait for an answer before skipping to another room, her hair bouncing with every step.

“Are we going to address that, or…” Marlene said, pointing towards the door Lily had just shut behind her.

“Let’s address that. I’m tired of being the one under the spotlight,” agreed Alice. “That’s a lot of excitement for a friend.”

“Well, you know Lily,” intervened Frank, “She loves her friends a lot. And, she’s a girls’ girl. I don’t see anything weird.”

“Why are you trying so hard to defend her (alleged) heterosexuality?” inquired Marlene, wary.

“That’s suspicious, Frank. People might get the wrong idea,” agreed Alice.

He rolled his eyes vigorously.

“She’s dated plenty of men. She said multiple times she likes men.”

“Bisexuality is a thing,” countered Marlene.

“I would know that, McKinnon.”

“I can’t possibly know that, you never tell us about your love life!”

Frank and Marlene began bickering, and Alice was laughing so hard she had to kneel down.

“I’m back!” smiled Lily, entering the room.

“That was quick,” said Alice, still wheezing.

“She had to help Narcissa with something. Anyways, she invited me to her place tomorrow. Narcissa is going to be away all day, so she wanted to start writing our song. I’ll stay with her to watch the show,” she explained.

“Oh, so it’s going to be just the two of you? Alone?” Alice asked innocently.

“Yes, imagine how sad it would’ve been if she was by herself all day!” Lily replied.

“So sad,” agreed Marlene, using the same tone as Alice. “I’ll tell Peter and Remus you’re not coming, then.”

“They won’t mind, will they?”

“I’ll tell them why you can’t come, they’ll understand,” Marlene smiled, and then threw a glance at Frank, who was unimpressed.

“Thank you, you’re the best. I have to pick an outfit, Friday is literally tomorrow!” Lily said, going to her room, but then stopped and turned back to them.

“Actually, this may sound weird, but…” she started. “Do you think Mary likes women?”

Alice covered her mouth with a hand, trying to muffle a laugh. She didn’t know what was going on between Marlene and Frank, but if she took a quick look she knew she wouldn’t be capable to stop herself from cackling.

“I think she does,” replied Marlene after a quick silence, since Frank clearly wasn’t going to answer.

“I heard she has a girlfriend. Valentina, I think.”

“Oh really?” said Lily, taken aback. “I mean, of course Mary isn’t single, have you seen her? She’s gorgeous, it would be a crime if she were. She’s really kind, too. I’m just surprised, it’s…well, she hasn’t mentioned a girlfriend, and we’ve been talking for a while.”

Lily Evans was rambling. Alice and Marlene were going to taunt the fuck out of Frank at the first available opportunity.

“Anyways. Marlene, how-who told you?”

“No one, I lied. I wanted to prove a point to Frank.” Marlene smirked, pointing to him.

Lily pressed her lips into a thin line, and Alice could feel a few gears getting into motion in that smart, oblivious head of hers. She left the room shortly after, and Alice and Marlene didn’t have to say anything: Frank raised his hands in surrender, giving up under the girls’ laughter.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I want to use this very small, handmade crochet item from Forever21 to illustrate exactly how little they are paying artists:

These hair ties are $5 for the set. There's some somewhat tricksy stitchwork in those petals, and I think the center is embroidery, not crochet, so this hair tie took two skills.

I would guess each flower, depending on how fast you are, could take 30-60 minutes. Closer to 30, if you do make a lot of them. And I bet the goal is to make as many as you can in one sweatshop-hours workday so you'll paid by the quantity you can crank out. And I'm sure someone's triple-checking every last bit of your work to cut your pay down to the minimum.

As this is a set, I assume it's one of each color that's required to count as a batch. And you'll be paid some sort of even worse pittance for any unfinished batches you have left over.

For 5 bucks for three, Forever21 likely isn't paying more than a dollar a set. So, for, at best guess, 1.5 hours of work, someone's making a dollar. And that's if their work isn't being intentionally judged harshly to cut their pay further. Because I'm betting the wage on unfinished sets is maybe 20 cents a flower. On a very good day where the artist can make everything in sets and end an assumed 12-hour day with all sets complete, that's 8 sets. 8 dollars.

8 dollars for unstopped physical labor. So Forever21 can charge 5 bucks a card.

Now, if you can copy these and sell them yourself but don't know what to price them at, here's my pitch:

I have a standing rule that if it takes me more than 30 minutes to make, it's 10 bucks to sell. Because I think 20 bucks is a solid rate for my work on something like this. So, half of 20 is 10. I'm willing to eat the cost of materials as I can undoubtably make a whole bunch of little flowers off one skein of yarn. So, even if I choose a higher-priced yarn, the fact I can make 30 or 40 or 50 little flowers cuts down on the price of supplies.

Now, if I were selling online, I'd offer some sort of small discount for a group buy. 1 for $10. 2 for $18. 3 for $25. This can lead to people deciding to buy more rather than less, and while you do take a bit of a hit on the overall price, a larger sale is a larger sale.

If I were tabling somewhere, I'd be willing to use something like hair ties as an easy sale. I'd cut down my base price to, say $8 for 1. $15 for 2. $22 for 3. As someone who has tabled and been buying at a table, I cannot tell you how much people love a deal like that. Especially if you have a lot of colors to choose from. Not only that, but it's a sale that's much easier to make on day one (when people are trying to be careful with their spending) and on the final day (when people are nearly out of their spending money). You can get a lot of small sales that add up.

Obviously, Forever21 isn't going to price up like I just described. They are a fucking elder god of fast fashion and will not be changing their exploitation of artisans any time soon. But having an understanding of exactly how badly they treat workers and presenting a very average pricing from an artist who is trying to be fair to themself and their skill can be helpful for people who are trying to figure out how to put their money where their values are.

[aliveahahafuck]

So, random funny things that happened at larp this weekend:

I was NPCing as a crab, and at one point, one of the owners, who was also a crab, got this absolute Cheshire grin and ran OOG towards a light post that has been designated as the portal between cities/places within the different larp guilds (ie between all other games put on by guilds within the Underword universe). As more of us saw that and realised what he was doing as soon as we went down, we joined him. And as Crabs were still joining the group, he just started chanting, "COMING THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE: ONE", a few people join him chanting, "COMING THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE: TWO", and finally there's eight of us yelling the chant and at 3, we all shuffle out of the portal and all I hear from a player is "WHO THE FUCK PAID THE FEE FOR 8 CRABS TO GO THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE!?!?!?! THAT'S SO MUCH GOLD?!?!" (Someone who no longer has a crab problem, obviously. Lmao)

I fell asleep at a picnic table because A: the sun was warm, B: it was peaceful listening to the people chat beside me, and C: it was like 11 am and I'd only been up for two hours but had been exhausted the whole time. Except I wasn't completely sleeping, I was in the half awake state you get where you can hear ahit going on around you, but actually processing basically nothing. Because of that, I heard one of the people who I'd been chatting with say, "Should we wake her? There's demons coming." Only to hear what felt like seconds later:

"Hello there, what have we here?"

"It's a nature's hold. Wild animals can't see us."

"I see. And your friend?"

"Ehhhhh, she might be dead, might be sleeping, we're not too sure."

"Okay then, I'll leave you too whateverthis is." (Footsteps as they walk away)

"I can't believe that worked."

"Me neither."

They did end up waking me up and I chatted with them a bit before I fell asleep again for what felt to me like max 30 seconds, but according to my friend was more like 5-7 minutes and was woken up by a familiar voice saying: "Here. This is for you."

And I raise my head and see a hand placing an orange directly in front of me, I look up to the owner of the hand, and it's my best friends uncle, one of the owners of the guild, dressed as a demon with about 4 others and I just kinda blue screen and just say "thank you???" And they all walk off.

Once they're back in plot camp (a cabin a couple meters away but far enough to be out of earshot), I turned to the people beside me and just go: "he gave me an orange? What the fuck do I do with it? I'm not eating the demon orange?"

The consensus was do not trust the suspicious fruit.

(I found out later that he stole it from the player who runs an alchemy shop and also sells snacks; "he took it as he walked by and at first I was mad, but then I realised that demon just took the cheapest item in my shop; I'm going to take that as a compliment.")

Also, the demons just wanted coffee.

I also found out that while I was sleeping, the bottom of my WOOL cloak had fallen off my lap. I was sitting at a picnic table that had an ever growing puddle around it as the day went on. The fucker wasn't dry by the time I got home a day and a half later.

Lil while later, and I, once again, was fucking exhausted. I ended up going into the tavern and just laid down across one of the pew style benches that lined the walls (10/10 wouldn't recommend. Sitting up at the picnic table was better) and took off my belt, which had a few leather bags attached, to use as a pillow. Partly because I wasn't dumb enough to leave them as easy access and lose my shit, partly because the bench was so thin that I wouldn't have been able to comfortably lay down with the one on my back.

The tavern was FUCKING LOUD. Like, holy shit how did I sleep for 1.5 hours with that racket going on, loud.

I don't remember like 95% of what went on, but the things I do remember are someone saying "shit. There's bears outside." Followed quickly by "HOLY SHIT THE BEARS HAVE MAGIC"

And when, I'm assuming, the battle was over, the shopkeeper player yelling out a window, "I'm selling (healing potions), and they're really cheap~~"

Some time later, about an hour into this nap, I'd sat up, stared into the middle distance for a bit, then walked across the tavern to where I'd left my cloak and over vest above a heater to dry, put on the vest, took my cloak threw it down onto of my "pillow" and immediately went back to sleep for another 30 min.

Sunday, I was chatting with a friend when a npc gnome came over and challenged him to an arm wrestling contest. I was also friends with the person playing the npc. The guy I was originally talking to activated a magic item that made him stronger mid competition, to which the gnome activated a "gnomish device" anti magic field and won the contest. At which point he stopped and looked at me:

"You didn't have any magical items on you, right? Or potions?"

"Uhhhh, yeah. I had a potion of purify in my bag."

"Shit. Well, now you don't. It's just water."

He looked so upset that he'd fucked over my potion and he gave me blacksmithing materials as compensation.

It literally took all of 5 minutes for me to get a new potion, for free, because I knew who'd made them, and he knew I play a healer lmao

vlater i volunteered to go grab someone's staff from our cabin. As I'm walking across the central field, all I hear is: "LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! CRABS!"

I turned to see the person who was playing the gnome, now a crab, just hauling ass b-lining towards me across the field. As previously stated, I'm a healer, a squishy as fuck, lvl 4 healer. I quickly turned and bolted, unlocked the cabin, flung the door open, slammed it shut behind me, and grabbed the staff I was sent to get in the first place. Seconds later the crab opened the door and saw me, this 5foot fuck all human holding this 7foot long staff grinning like a Cheshire cat: "activate magic item: sigil of the weapons master. 7 MAGIC! 7 MAGIC!-"

I like to call that staff "overkill: the weapon" lmao

The owner of it: "it costs 3 gold to borrow it. Unless you're so tiny that it looks ridiculous, then it's free."

I fell into the "Hilariously tiny" group, but also the "we're playing the same rareish race, and we stick together" group lol

After a huge battle where like 9 people died:

"I'm so not getting that staff back. There's no way it survived."

"That's unfortunate, I liked killing crabs with it."

"Yeah, that's always fun, even if its so overkill for them."

(5 minutes later I come running into the tavern again)

"MORE PEOPLE SURVIVED, THEYRE HEADING BACK NOW! (People start excitedly leaving) also, your staff survived."

"IT WHAT"

"It's coming back! I saw Wolfgreir (who had it before the battle) without it and was happy that at least he survived, and then I saw it being carried through the bush, Jaylin (main healer) has it!"

"No way. I was sure it was gone!"

"I can't believe it either."

[crochetysquare]

Jester’s Hat Pattern

I meant to post this on New Year’s Day. Oops. Hello, all 5 followers that aren’t bots! I typed that sentence and realized I haven’t been checking for bots in my sideblog. To be fair, I haven’t been doing a great job of posting to my crochetblr at all since I started it. Let this be the beginning of a year of more-or-less monthly patterns! More updates on the quilt! More one-off posts! This is the year of crochet!

Some of you may have noticed that I changed this blog's title last year. I felt that "NotUrGrannySquares" didn't fit me. I didn't really like it at the beginning, but it's the all I could think of (and it wasn't too creative, since I only spelt it "Ur" because "NotYourGrannySquares" was taken--not to mention, there are plenty of patterns out there with similar names). As I began to collect a few pieces from my mom and grandma for my quilt, I felt more at odds with the blog name: these are my granny's squares! I posted this one a while ago, but the other two from her are waffle stitch samples. One is incomplete, using a merino wool yarn, and the other she fished out of the kitchen when I asked if I could incorporate the wool one into the quilt, and it’s clearly a polyester because it’s slightly melted in the center where it had been holding hot things. I’m obsessed with the texture that’s resulted.

I landed on “crochety” because I’ve described myself as a crotchety old man, the word “crotchety” shares origins with the word “crochet,” and I liked how Dictionary.com defined it.

crotchety adjective 1. given to odd notions, whims, grouchiness, etc.

I am given to odd notions and whims. That’s the whole thesis of my quilt, isn’t it? That’s why I haven’t been posting patterns. When I’m crocheting, I’m crocheting. I can’t stop every row and write down what I did. Worse, I can’t write it down and then rewrite it in a text document. I tried to teach myself coding last year because I was told it’s “just logic,” and being logically minded, I should be good at it. The thing is, it’s also typing, and I fucking hate typing. (You’re looking up at the past 4 paragraphs skeptically. This is different. Just trust me that it’s different. You’ll see what I mean when you look at the pattern and how poorly I’ve cleaned it up because something about typing shit like, “Ch 3, turn, sk 1st st, sc in 2nd ch from hook, sc in next sc, sc 15, ch 2, sc in next sc, sc 15, ch 3, turn, sk 1st ch, sc in sc in sc in sc in sc in next st and to end,” just itches my brain so uncomfortably. Crocheting is so intuitive for me, and translating it from the physical realm to the written kills me. It’s like when I would finish my geometry proof before everyone else, and the teacher would suggest I help the kid next to me, but I couldn’t put it into words. I don’t know, dude, you just put the things where they go. Just put the hook through the correct stitch. Just make it the shape of one third of a jester’s hat. That’s how you make a pattern. Just do the thing that obviously you should do. This is why I like diagram crochet patterns more, which I would like to get into on here in the future. However, this pattern reflects the madness that is my brain trying to type up patterns. When I started this blog, I thought I would do a bunch of patterns like that, maybe with a horror narrative evolving around the monotony and the separation between typography and craft, and then I realized how much tongue in cheek patterning that would require. Hmm. Maybe someday, though.)

So anyway, this is NOT your granny’s pattern because I bet she has better discipline than I do. She would have cleaned this pattern up to the necessary bits. I’m too damn crotchety for that.

All 3 panels will follow this pattern. I used (most of) 3 skeins of Buttercream Luxe Craft 100% Wool yarn. It is yarn weight 5, recommending 6.0mm crochet hooks, and for once I did what I was told.

It appears that Joann has rebranded it to Knit & Crochet, but it also seems I have moved to an area with mediocre Joanns which carry neither. Which is whatever; I have gift cards to better yarn shops.

You can follow the same scheme of adding stitches with different starting row counts. This ended up being a little more than 25 inches in circumference, which made it just a bit too big for me. I rolled up the brim on the underside when I wore it, which worked fine for me and my 21 inch head since it’s a nice thick yarn.

Key I'm using US terms. ch = Chain sc = Single crochet sk = Skip sc2tog = single crochet 2 together That's all you need. It's easy peasy, you got this, gorgeous.

Ch 31. 1. skip 1st ch. sc 30. ch 1, turn. 2-10. sc 30, ch 1, turn. 11. sc 30, ch 2, turn. 12. sk first ch, sc in second from hook. sc across. Ch 2 again! and turn. 13. sk first ch, sc in second, sc 16, ch 2, sc in next stitch and to end. (32 total, 16 on each side. We're gonna stop keeping count, though. I didn't, and it turned out just fine. You'll be fine, as long as all your panels are Shaped.) Ch 2, and turn. 14. Sk first ch, sc in second, sc 17. In 2 ch space {sc, ch 2, sc}. Sc to end. Ch 2, turn. 15-16. You know what you're doing. Sc to that chain space, and sc, ch 2, sc, and keep going. Ch 2, turn. 17. Now it switches up, but not really. Sk first ch, sc in second. Sc to 2ch space {sc, ch 2, sc}, sc to end. NOW. Chain 3. Turn. 18. Sc in second and third ch from hook. sc to chain space {sc, ch 2, sc}, sc to end. Ch. 3. 19. NOW it switches up. Sc in second and third ch, sc across. You hear me? Single crochet across! Skip that chain space entirely this time 'round! 20-22. In 20, you add the ch space in... um. shoot. This is why people keep track of stitches. Add the ch space above where it was in 18. IDK, you got this. ch 3, turn. 23. Hey, just skip that ch space again, okay. Don't argue (you can argue, change the pattern, idgaf). Ch 3, turn. 24. sc in second and third ch from hook, sc 31, ch 2 without skipping, sc 32. Ch 3, turn. 25-27. Same as 20-22. 28. Do that thing where you omit the ch space. Or don't. I'm not your mother. 29-30. Same as 20-22 and 25-27. 31. This is ittttttttt! Single crochet until that 2 chain space where I need you to use that one stitch in the key you forgot about? The sc2tog? Keep sc'ing to the end and fasten the fuck off, you did it.

Now you just have to do that two more times and probably in different colors. Maybe if you're fancy you could do stripes. Row 31 should have 92 stitches, but, like I said in Row 13, as long as it's Shaped, you're honestly good. As longs as the Shapes are Basically The Same, you are grooving.

Sew them up. I slip stitched them together because I'm more comfortable with a hook than a needle (and I think it looks nice). Don’t forget to affix something that jingle jangles. 🃏

[iantimony]

almost no longer tuesdaypost

listening: I FINISHED TWILIGHT MIRAGE !!! AND THE POSTMORTEM!!! it was so good. i'm powering through the road to partizan episodes right now, i'm in episode 4! i AM listening to them on 1.3 speed to get through them a little more expeditiously, and i'm also not letting myself backtrack if i miss a line or two, just kinda absorbing the vibes before slamming into partizan proper!

reading: flight of a one-winged dove, bloodletter, post canon sangcheng, mind the tags, i'm not normally a sangcheng girly but this really really hit. never knew i was a dancer, isozyme, modern AU lesbian sangcheng, maybe i AM a sangcheng girly now?? anyways mind those tags etc

watching: cowboy bebop with boyf :) we're on episode 22, we'll probably watch the movie soon ...? was told around here is a good spot to do that, so as much as i always like watching things In Publication Order, will probably do that soon

making: i have frogged and restarted that stupid star stitch laptop case like six times. i am committing to it now. i really didn't like the original shape of the object i was creating using the spruce crafts tutorial that comes up immediately when you google "star stitch tutorial", but i found this one (has one less double crochet on the ends) and i like it a lot better. so i'm working through that now! i also had a moment a few days ago that was like. ok i want to restart it. but before i do that i should wind the skein into a ball so it's less annoying. ah shit my ball winder is winding it really fucked up and wonky, oh i googled it and i can take the top off and pop the gear back into place and that should fix it! gotta find a screwdriver for that first -- so tl;dr i fixed my ball winder, wound the skein into a ball, and started the project again. huzzah.

also, started another fanfic! what if harrowhark was the abhorsen-in-waiting. she's actually been the abhorsen for about a decade, the previous abhorsen died ages ago but she's been pretending that her father is in seclusion or something and has just been sending her out on his behalf. gideon was mysteriously dropped off and raised alongside harrowhark for reasons unknown. the kingdom is ruled by lich-king john gaius, a member of the royal bloodline who has dipped too much into free magic, transcended death and, while not malevolent specifically, has really started to cock things up kingdom-wide re: the dead. ianthe is a free magic sorcerer. i just think there's a lot of tasty potential there.

misc: i am once again On An Antibiotic [confetti] if i am not patient zero for the next antibiotic resistant bacteria it will be a goddamn miracle. anyways. onwards. hopefully this is the last one for a while…!!

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 6: Dark Prophecy

Prophecies are inherently spoiler-filled, and so is this post! Not just for The Eye of the World, not just for The Great Hunt, the whole damn series! I'm running out of gimmicks for this, so take a Keep Reading or leave!

This chapter opens up with the Trolloc triptych because the Trollocs and other Shadowspawn are attacking Fal Dara. Not much to say on this front!

The farmhouse door shook under furious blows from outside; the heavy bar across the door jumped in its brackets. Beyond the window next to the door moved the heavy-muzzled silhouette of a Trolloc. There were windows everywhere, and more shadowy shapes outside. Not shadowy enough, though. Rand could still make them out.

Oh and also Rand's having bad dreams about them.

[Mat's] grin looked odd on a bloodless pale face, and the hilt of a dagger stood out from his chest, the ruby that capped it blazing as if it held fire. The gem had more life than his face... Blood streamed down [Perrin's] face like a flood of tears from his empty sockets. He held out red hands, trying to make Rand look at what he held.

I think I've mentioned that Mat and Perrin's arcs seemed to have gotten swapped around a little in the early days and I think this is another bit of that. Perrin having eyeless imagery before Mat does may well mean that there was a point when Jordan intended him to be the guy going off and rescuing Moiraine. Or maybe Ish is just giving Rand a gross dream, since he shows up.

Dark-eyed and slender, Nynaeve wore her hair in a fat braid, pulled over one shoulder and hanging almost to her waist. She had not given up on home.

No, it's just that she is fine keeping the trappings of home. She's going to Tar Valon, she's going to learn how to be an Aes Sedai, and she's not going to throw temper tantrums about learning. She knows damn well that it means she's not going back home any time soon, if ever. She might not admit it to herself right now, but she knows it.

“The Light help me, Rand, you are becoming more Shienaran every day. Invited into the women’s apartments, indeed.” She sniffed. “Any day now, you’ll start talking about your honor, and asking peace to favor your sword.” He colored, and hoped she did not notice in the dim light. She eyed his sword, its hilt sticking out of the long bundle beside him on the floor. He knew she did not approve of the sword, of any sword, but she said nothing about it for once.

Meanwhile, Rand - like Egwene - is far too good at blending into the cultures he's staying in to seem like just a Two Rivers lad. It's rather appropriate that one of the least self-aware members of the cast is the one calling Rand out for his own hypocritical tendencies and he doesn't even know.

“Have they started to search for me, yet? Egwene is not sure they will, but Lan says the Amyrlin Seat is here because of me, and I think I’ll take his opinion over hers.” For a moment Nynaeve did not answer. Instead she fussed with her skeins of yarn.

Rand doesn't even register how insensitive he's being here.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would she be part of a search? Or any of the women, for that matter. They’d be using Lord Agelmar’s soldiers, and the Warders. And the Aes Sedai. They must just be doing something for the feast. Burn me if I know what a Shienaran feast takes.”

Nynaeve: Here are all the facts I've observed during your nap - all the things I did to keep my eye out for you.

Rand: STFU bitch u stupid.

Half the reason every person Rand is going to be dealing with going forward is so obstructively stupid is so that he can appreciate just how fucking wonderful the Wondergirls and Moiraine were.

“The Lady Amalisa gave me this,” she said so softly he wondered if she was speaking to herself. She stroked the silk with her fingers, outlining the embroidered flowers, smiling, lost in thought. “It’s very pretty on you, Nynaeve. You’re pretty tonight.” He winced as soon as he said it. Any Wisdom was touchy about her authority, but Nynaeve was touchier than most.

And likewise all of the bullshit Nynaeve is going to be going through is so that she can appreciate how kind Rand the shepherd actually was - and how she deserves to feel pretty on occasion, figure of authority or not.

“Shai’tan is dead,” he said harshly, and abruptly the room seemed to lurch. He grabbed his head as waves of dizziness sloshed through him.

Lucky he didn't get pink eye or whatever it was the Copgar guy got.

He bounded to his feet. “That’s an alarm! They’re searching. . . .” Name the Dark One, and his evil comes down on you.

Ah, the Dark One was happy to let the hilarious coincidence be punishment enough. Because that's all this is - coincidence. All the Shadowspawn were already in place while Rand was sleeping.

“Egwene.” He crossed the room in quick strides and snatched his sword and scabbard free of the bundle. Light, it’s supposed to hurt me, not her. “She’s in the dungeon with Fain. What if he’s loose somehow?”

And we set up this book's bookends: Rand starts out ready to save Egwene from one approximation of the Shadow and ends ready to save her from another.

Then a woman came out into the hall, face-to-face with him, and he stopped in spite of himself. He recognized that face above the rest; he thought he would remember it if he lived forever. The Amyrlin Seat. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and she started back. Another Aes Sedai, the tall woman he had seen with the staff, put herself between him and the Amyrlin, shouting something at him that he could not make out over the increasing babble.

Siuan, in on the plan: Shit he's already gone crazy the world's gonna end!

Leane, very much not: Get the fuck out of here you country bumpkin!

The hallway that had been full of running men a moment before was empty now except for the three Trollocs and himself. Caught by surprise, he unsheathed his sword awkwardly, tried Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose. Shaken at finding Trollocs in the heart of Fal Dara keep, he did the form so badly Lan would have stalked off in disgust.

Silly Rand, Lan would never abandon you in a fight against the Shadow. He'd kill all the Trollocs and then find a way to beat you upside the head with your own blade.

Abruptly the Myrddraal stopped, its smile gone. “This one is mine, Rand.” Rand gave a start as Ingtar stepped up beside him, dark and stocky in a yellow feastday coat, sword held in both hands.

Myrddraal probably assumed that Ingtar was gonna shank Rand from behind and is super pissed about being betrayed.

Still he felt ashamed as he ran for the stairs that led underground. He knew a Fade’s look could make any man afraid, but Ingtar had conquered the dread.

Don't feel bad Rand, Ingtar's hung out with a lot more Fades than you have at this point.

Blood covered the walls, too, but in scrawled letters, single words and whole sentences splashed on every which way. Some were harsh and angular, in a language he did not know, though he recognized Trolloc script. Others he could read, and wished he could not. Blasphemies and obscenities bad enough to make a stablehand or a merchant’s guard go pale.

Elayne had to join the group after Fal Dara because if she'd seen this many swears so early on she would have sworn herself to the Dark faster than Rand could scream Egwene's name uselessly for the fiftieth time.

“Everything must be left exactly as it is for us to examine. Touch nothing.” She took a step forward, peering at him, and he took one back. “Yes. Yes, as I thought. One of those with Moiraine. What do you have to do with this?” Her gesture took in the heads on the table and the bloody scrawl on the walls.

"Dammit you filthy shepherd, Fain and I worked hard on scrawling the walls with blood, you can't just erase it before people get to- I mean uh... It's evidence, or something. Go Light."

Involuntarily he grunted, trying to answer against the chill that seemed to be pressing his face back into his skull, constricting his chest like frozen iron bands. He clenched his jaws to keep the sound in. Painfully he rolled his eyes to glare at her through a blur of tears. The Light burn you, Aes Sedai! I won’t say a word, the Shadow take you!

Compulsion on Rand basically never works. Liandrin keeps trying though, because despite being a fully trained Aes Sedai she prefers her own special weaves out of arrogance.

“I could ask the same of you, Liandrin.” Moiraine looked around the room with only a slight tightening of her mouth for the charnel. “Why are you here?”

Liandrin's not even very good at knocking people off balance if she doesn't have magic to do it for her, since Moiraine sees through the bullshit right away.

“Egwene? Mat?” Setting the sword down, he shook Egwene gently. “Egwene?” She did not open her eyes. “Moiraine! Egwene’s hurt! And Mat!” Mat’s breathing sounded labored, and his face was deathly pale. Rand felt almost like crying. It was supposed to hurt me. I named the Dark One. Me!

And here is yet another reason why Rand thinks everything is his responsibility: bad luck means that he has genuine reason to think that he's responsible for the well-being of others. It is of course irrational - like I said, the Shadowspawn were already here - but no one points that out to Rand, in part because while he trusts Moiraine to resolve emergency situations, he doesn't trust her with his emotional state because she spent the last month ignoring him.

“She is not badly hurt,” Moiraine said after a moment. “She was struck here.” She traced an area on the side of Egwene’s head, covered by her hair; Rand could see nothing different about it. “That is the only injury she has taken. She will be all right.”

Thank goodness that for the past two Ages humans have been evolving skulls that thicken significantly in adolescence, or this head trauma that caused unconsciousness could have been a sign of real medical issues to come!

“When I came,” Liandrin said in a cold voice, “he was destroying the writing in the outer chamber.”

Liandrin, you can't seriously think that Moiraine is the best person for this conversation. Are you just making a veiled threat at Moiraine here, or are you really this dumb?

“The Amyrlin Seat,” Moiraine said calmly, “does not share your Red Ajah prejudices, Liandrin. She will Heal a man without need of a special use for him. Go ahead,” she told the litter bearers.

Moiraine, Liandrin wouldn't Heal a man if doing so would grant her unconditional immortality.

“The strongroom was looted,” Ingtar said wearily. “They did not take much, except for the Horn. What they could stuff in their pockets. I wish they had taken everything else and left that. Ronan is dead, and the watchmen he had guarding the strongroom.”

Thanks for insisting that Agelmar keep watch over it, Siuan. If you'd accepted his surrendering it to you, the Shadowspawn wouldn't have known where to look for it and Fain might not even have managed his escape in the delay.

“Earlier order? What earlier order? Rand, the keep was not closed until Lord Agelmar heard of this. Someone told you wrong.”

There's a few unresolved questions in these books, and here's one of them. Agelmar never ordered the gates closed until Fain escaped, but Rand was still kept from leaving. So who gave the order?

We can be certain it wasn't any of Siuan's Envoy. They can't Travel yet, so even if Liandrin wanted to sew this confusion as part of her instructions, she literally never had the opportunity.

This same evidence makes it difficult for it to be Ingtar. The narrative does seem to want to implicate him otherwise:

He glanced sideways at Ingtar, wondering if the Shienaran was lying. You really are going mad if you suspect Ingtar.

but we have the problem that Ingtar doesn't really have motive here. Rand running away from Fal Dara would only make it easier for the Shadow to grab him and try to corrupt him, away from watching eyes, so it's unlikely Ish would say, "Yeah he's definitely going to run from the Amyrlin, make sure he can't."

But there is somebody who, like Ingtar, would plausibly be able to make it seem like Agelmar had issued the order and be believed: Moiraine Damodred. She definitely doesn't want Rand running away, she's been told in the past that Agelmar's servants are hers to command so she can pretend that this means she can issue orders in his name without technically lying, and everyone in Fal Dara would obey any reasonable order from an Aes Sedai.

Suddenly he burst out laughing; it looked odd, like a rock laughing. “Running through the halls of the women’s apartments in the middle of the night, wearing a laborer’s jerkin and waving a sword. If they don’t have you flogged, at the very least they’ll talk about you for years... It is too bad you have to leave”

Lan: Damn kid, if we were the same age we would be getting into so many hijinks. You're hilarious. Wish we could hang out more.

Rand: It's a shame Lan can't feel emotions because I think he'd tolerate me slightly more than Mat and Perrin if he could.

“Why now, and not earlier? Why couldn’t I leave before? Was she the one who had the gates barred then? Ingtar said he knew nothing about any order to keep people in before tonight.” Rand thought the Warder looked troubled, but all he said was, “When someone gives you a horse, sheepherder, don’t complain that it isn’t as fast as you’d like.”

People argue that Lan looking troubled is evidence against Moiraine having ordered the gates closed, but frankly I think he didn't realize how far she was going in playing Rand considering that he will be helping him in the coming chapters. Lan really doesn't like young boys being primed as lambs for the slaughter for some reason, can't imagine why.

Anyway, that's this chapter. Next time: Blood places a collect call... for itself!

[folfar]

16, 39, 47 & 55!

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

So I have two pretty hefty ideas that definitely will see the light of day this year (ie I've started writing them), and eight more in the pipeline! The two big ones are a Love Island AU, where Damen has to enter the villa to save Nik's tv job, and a Persephone AU, where Damen is Persephone, because I love to cast Damen against type.

The rest of the list includes - because I never ever give up on a WIP (I believe in my heart I will finish everything I post, my most grievous fault) - some absolutely ancient ideas, such as a Yuri on Ice fic that I will probably never post, which is about... Chris. And Georgi, kind of.

And a Wandavision fic! Which is the second least likely to be posted, because it's already not canon compliant because the MCU is exhausting to keep up with. This is sad because I think it's the funniest thing I've ever written, and the premise is "What if the citizens of Westview found Wanda and told her to come back and get her creepy witch friend she left there?" But Agatha is still stuck in her sitcom-self, and they have to go and live in a canadian shack about it. And then they fuck while the darkhold seethes in the corner.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

From the Persephone AU! This is a very rough snippet - but I'm really looking forward to writing this fic:

Damen is doing spring, enjoying it but thinking it hollow. He moves through the world leagues at a time, stepping through his father’s sunbeams.

Spring is also the time of long shadows and cold evenings, when the stores run low and the calves starve, when death stalks the land; that’s how they meet. Laurent is a beautiful shade come from Hades. Damen is not unfamiliar with these pale emissaries of hell, come to take the sleeping dead in hand, but he has not seen this one before.

Damen protests at Laurent taking a spirit down to Hades. “It’s not right,” he says, “it wasn’t his time.”

And who are you to argue? The pale ghost says.

“I’m the god of spring; his sheep will lamb tomorrow, a fine and healthy crop. I have seen it - he will drink the milk and be well. I fed them ichor,” Damen confesses. Laurent stares at him, eyes as flat and silver as the coins on the eyes of the dead. 

“I didn’t like the sound of his cough.” Damen admits. He presses his case. “One more day.”

“Fine,” Laurent says, as if surprised with himself. “But you come to Hades with me - and explain it to the prince of hell yourself.” 

Damen creases his brow. “May I have a half-hour to ask my brother to take over my duties for me?”

“No,” Laurent says. “I have made my offer.” The farmer’s soul is coiled in his palm like a skein of wool. Damen looks at it, looks down at where the man is slumped by his byre.

“Fine,” he says. Laurent raises an eyebrow, and takes his hand.

The farmer wakes to see two sets of footprints - one iced over, crackling with cold - and the other, where in the indent, tiny, early strawberries are already coming to fruit.

47. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

hahahahha.......almost everything I have ever posted on ao3 is a first draft. when it is done i want it gone! you know when you have a fever and you're like i must strip IMMEDIATELY. like that.

sometimes I submit to a SPAG beta from longsuffering friends but i'm so impulsive i normally just post immediately and then kind people tell me "babes your tenses are fucked" and i have to revise on the fly.

don't be like me!!!!!

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

The reaction to Sunblind over the years has been so lovely it probably has to be Auguste because I am creature that lives and breathes for praise!

Also - when I started writing Auguste/Sunblind, it was because I had a personal vendetta against what I saw as a character getting put on a pedestal - the popular idea that Auguste had been everything Laurent said and more.

Given how Pacat demonstrates that character's perceptions of their own relationships often turn out to be incorrect or based on assumptions as the books go on, I wanted to do the same. I wanted to write him as imperfect in the extreme - a bit violent, a bit foolish, sweet but not as thoughtful as Laurent remembered - and a victim in his own way of their Uncle's manoeuvring, because I can't believe a plan like that comes from nowhere.

People have been really receptive to that, in a way I didn't expect when I started it - and it's taken me so long to write the damn thing that he's been with me for five years now. How could anyone supplant him?

[beazt]

ive seen you mention some stuff about your thesis, so id like to ask what kinds of research were you doing before? and what was your favorite bird to work with?

still working on the thesis!! I was just about to post an update on it. :) heads up you’re getting more than you bargained for with this ask. lmao

but my thesis research is really my first (not only, see end of this post) foray into research, tbh. Technically didn’t start with a thesis, but everything I did worked towards giving me the data I needed for my eventual thesis. so I just refer to it all as my thesis research. so I’ll just give the rundown on my thesis since I have an excuse lmao

my thesis research only involved working with two species, but I’m only focusing on one for the thesis itself. we work with tree swallows and eastern bluebirds! this is because they’re both highly competitive obligate secondary cavity nesters. I’ll break that down. basically it’s fancy speak for “these birds will only nest in holes that were already made before they came along and they will not nest anywhere else.” researching birds is really hard, ask any ornithologist. they’re small, they’re fast, they fly, they’re smart enough to avoid most traps, they don’t really let you get close to them. you can do behavioral monitoring if you have a good enough population, population monitoring if you’re willing to use citizen science and some mist nets. maybe skein some data from point counts. but anything physiological or reproductive is really hard. unless you do a secondary cavity nester, which nests in boxes that you can open and monitor and trap birds in and even do behavioral trials!

(of course there’s also aviary kept birds, but not all species are well suited for that, it’s expensive, it takes a lot of space, and it’s hard to get approved.)

my research specifically focuses on eastern bluebirds. I did quite a bit of field work before ever coming up with a research question, and quite a bit of bench work. most of my bench work at that point was dissecting nests and quantifying parasites. the general reaction I get to this is “ew, I could never” but I loved it! I love insects and especially parasites. a clean nest with no parasites would only take maybe 2 minutes but a mossy, wet, muddy nest full of parasites could take 2 hours. and we get 300+ nests per year, most are parasitized. so I spent a lot of time doing this!

I was having a parasite quantifying party with the other guy in my lab who works with the parasites and our professor/research mentor, when I was just asking questions about the parasites and stuff. and I ended up asking “do the parasites affect the baby bluebirds color?” and boom, my thesis question was born. you see, no one has studied this question before, because not that many people in the US study bird color, my professor is one of few. but it’s also an interesting question because juvenile bluebirds will retain their flight plumage into their first breeding season. and my prof has shown that differences in colored ornamentation affect mate choice and sexual selection in the past. so essentially, an effect on color could affect their first breeding season as well as potentially affect parental care (not as much research is done on that, because fledglings are hard as fuck to study.)

so I went through as much literature as I could find, there’s very little on the effects of any parasites on bird color, but I went through other things that could affect coloration, especially structural coloration. quick tangent on structural coloration: essentially, blue and green birds do not have blue (or green, except in the case of the turacos) pigment. the blue is caused by some wacky keratin structures that reflect blue light. this is a very different mechanism than repurposing or producing pigments!

I also kept on trucking through those nests. I would arrive at uni (45-60 min drive) every morning by 6 am to dissect nests until my 9 am class.

And then I started doing another bit of bench work where I took the feather samples we collected (2 cm of the tip of the 5th primary wing feather on each side) from the nestlings and taping them to non-reflective black paper for color analysis. and then I measured them! we use a fancy machine called a spectrophotometer to objectively measure the reflectance of every wavelength of light between 300 and 630nm, so through the UV into near infrared. birds are tetrachromatic, which means they have 4 visual pigments in their eyes, so they can see UV! so it’s important we measure it objectively, since we can’t even see it.

not to mention that we have a ton of data we collect on each bird and I had to do a TON of database management to make sure the data was even useable. I won’t even go into that much cause it’s boring, but it’s a lot of reorganizing, hunting down missing data, and scanning for typos, in literal thousands of rows by over a hundred columns of data.

it’s worth noting that I’ve been working on this project for two years. I did all of this for the first year myself, and also caught up a lot of lagging work from previous years and collaborators projects (perks of being an undergraduate research assistant: I got paid to do this). I also measured adult bird feather samples and the tree swallow samples. and then the second year came around. I trained people to do the nest dissecting, feather taping, and adult feather spec work, and some parts of the database management (and wrote/developed detailed protocols for all of these.) I kept some of the work for myself because it’s difficult to do correctly and takes experience, like the advanced database management and spec’ing the baby bluebird feathers. I just recently finished all of the database management for my thesis the years 2019-2022, there’s still a bit more to be done but not super relevant to my thesis. This alone took over 50 hours, total.

and in 2022, in my preliminary data, we noticed a correlation between parasites and baby color, but only for the female babies. (I ended up presenting this preliminary data at a conference.) this is significant because most rearing environment conditions affect the males more than the females. so since I still had a year, we decided to do some more analysis. the other guy working with the parasites was doing molecular work to quantify immune response to the parasites in the nestlings and brooding adult females. so I hopped on that bandwagon and did a ton of work in collaboration with him, and I mean 12 hour days of molecular work, to quantify the immune response of a male and female nestling from each nest and their mother. we did this through enzyme-linked immunosorbent assays (ELISA) which here’s the very basic premise (excluding a lot of detail, forgive me). you extract the proteins of the parasites. then you add the blood of the birds. the immune cells in the blood of the birds react to the parasite proteins. then you add another immune type enzyme that attaches to the active bird immune cells. then you add chemicals which make those enzymes change color. then you use a microspectrophotometer to measure the optical density (basically the inability of light to pass through the solution) of each sample, and it tells you how strong the bird immune response was. you of course run a bunch of controls and then calculations based on those controls too.

then I ran a bunch of fancy statistics and color analysis and visual modeling. :P the visual modeling essentially takes the photoreceptor qualities and quantities across the avian eye to determine what the birds can see, and then the differences between two colors in avian vision. I used it to determine if a bird could tell the difference between a parasitized and unparasitized bird by their color, allowing their plumage to act as a signal of parasitism.

and now I’m writing about all of it. I’ve just finished my methods and results sections today, im probably not going to post about final results until I’ve been peer reviewed and published. but yeah, that’s essentially my thesis.

I suppose you could say bluebirds were my favorite bird to work with. It was really fun weighing and measuring their babies and watching them grow. And measuring the adults too. And taking their blood and feather samples. All of it was so fun. The particularly aggressive parents will dive at you when you’re messing with their babies lol. Ever seen a bluebird aiming for your face? I have.

overall I’ve spent well over 400 hours on this project, and I’m a fast worker. More hours to come with writing and preparing for publication. :p

in the middle of this project (summer 2022) I also completed an REU (research experience for undergraduates) program in Cincinnati where I was studying jumper spiders. That’s where I learned the visual modeling, actually. I spent a little over 400 hours on that project as well, except over the course of 10 weeks. the major difference is that was a full time job just doing research. with my thesis research I’ve been a full time student (15-17 credit hour semesters) the entire time and had a part time job 18 hours per week with a 2 hour commute each day all at the same time. that’s why it’s taken me 2 years to get the same amount of hours dedicated. lol

[conspiracyofcrazy]

Despite all my braggadocio online, I am a creampuff in real life. And a doormat. I also fear confrontation and inconveniencing others.

Today, I went to Joann Fabrics for a single skein of embroidery floss. Having no cash, I grabbed a size hoop I do not already own, a pair of marking pencils (blue and white), and a seam ripper.

Yesterday, I discovered that I had been working on a piece of my cross-stitch more than an inch to the right of where it is supposed to be, so I spent 45 minutes with a borrowed seam ripper last night undoing a few hours worth of work. Since I started the project over two years ago I decided to start with a new skein rather than run out halfway through and pray that a new one would match... So, now I have more than $5 worth of stuff so I can use my card to pay without feeling like a loser.

Minor problem with that: my last card number was stolen and I didn't update the new one in my Google Wallet so I have to use the actual card. Which I just got Friday and haven't set-up a PIN for. All of which I am remembering trying to pay for less than $10 worth of stuff.

As I am getting increasingly flustered with all the many rejections from the card reader, the cashier asks if I'm okay. I giggle through apologizing for not being able to pay quickly. She asks why I'm apologizing, "is it because there are people behind you?" And I nod, while still fucking with the machine. She tells me not to worry about them, "they're probably going to write a check for a spool of thread. It's not your fault we're understaffed."

And I felt better.

I have always told my kids to mind their own business and let everyone else sort themselves out. Everyone has struggles. Everyone has bad days. Worry about yourself.

For decades therapists have tried to help me feel more confident and allow myself to take up space.

That one cashier did more for me today than all the self-talk and therapy in a five minute transaction.

They're probably going to write a check for a spool of thread. Take your time.

[solar-halos]

okay i need to stop posting in the middle of the night bc the last two times i did that i was doing entirely too much in the tags + posted a torso reveal (as if i’m not a pic of snoopy walking around going 👍) but i need to keep talking about lucy grays rainbow dress. so here’s an unasked for progress check + the inspo for the top i wanna crochet in case i wanna connect the skirt to the shirt to actually make it a dress lol:

okay i put a cutoff here bc i wanna rant but don’t wanna put such a long post on anyone’s dash <3. but for the top it was a toss up between a puff sleeve and a corset but i decided to go with the puff sleeves for a few reasons

1) it’s giving 1890s. not to sound like a nerd but i had a huge historical fashion phase when i was younger and i’m in love with the idea of lucy gray’s puff sleeves representing a different era (since, yk, ballad in general represents a diff era)

2) i’ve never crocheted a puff sleeve top before so it would be fun to try hehe (but i have crocheted a corset top and it does not Stay Up so, in the event that lucy gray was performing in an all-yarn outfit, that would not be very practical for her)

3) okay wouldnt the sleeves subtly fluffing around as she performs be kinda cute? obviously they’re not gonna be super fluffy or anything (just the amount of floofiness in the pic) but it’s kinda like a less intense version of the skirt ruffling

speaking of the skirt:

ohhhh my good. i alternate between loving and hating the white panels but tbh there’s nothing i can do unless i wanna drop an ungodly amount of money on a skirt that’s not even my style. but good thing it’s my sisters style (actually it might not be she looked at it and went “omg omg it’s so cuteee <3” and when i asked if she herself would wear it she went “o.o welll..” so maybe i’ll just have to do my hair and makeup entirely different to sell that this is in fact my style bc no way am i not wearing something i spent literal money + time on). sorry that was a tangent but it’s around knee length rn and i think i have enough yarn (of the rainbow color scheme and scrap yarn) to make it a bit longer. i’ve always envisioned lucy grays dress as a maxi, so maybe i’ll get one more skein of yarn at the end of the month since they’re having a sale. but the whimsy when it comes to wearing this skirt is unreal. like when i put it on i always gotta do a little spin to see the ruffles shift. and that’s actually another thing that makes me convinced that lucy grays skirt is a maxi bc making it into a mini skirt was atrocious. and that’s saying something bc if my entire ass isn’t hanging out of a skirt then what the fuck am i even wearing it for. but it just looked a bit strange and i thought it was bc there was SO much volume on top and it made me a look a bit disproportional, but once my mom stopped going “that’s a lot of colors going on” she had an answer that (while very crude.. and maybe a bit problematic) explained things:

“you look like a pedophile’s dream”

yeah. to be clear i don’t agree that women who dress in ruffles and pastels and things that are considered “childish” are trying to appeal to pedophiles, but keeping the skirt so short and colorful and ruffly made it look very Young. also making it longer added to the whimsy since there’s more fabric that swooshes around when you spin

okay i think i’m done. so thankful that i have tumblr now bc where else was i gonna rant about rainbow dress omg. but tbh i think i’m gonna take a break from making this before i get burnt out and finish a chapter for a fic bc the hg grind never stops. bye!!

[sweaterkittensahoy]

OH THANK FUCK IT'S DONE

This is made in fingering weight yarn (Red Heart's It's a Wrap, two skeins of the 1100 yards size). The skirt I freehanded. the top half is this shirt pattern:

(Pattern here)

You may notice the blouse as designed has more structure than mine. That's because I went up a yarn size (the original calls for laceweight (2-ply)) and while I did adjust the number of meshes per row to meet the new starting chain measurements, I didn't think to actually make the meshes a bit smaller themselves.

Well, I did. But I was three-inches into making the skirt, and it's all attached, and I wasn't going back.

Anyway, the meshes are a six-chain to start, then five-chains to the end. If I'd gone down to say, 5 and 4, I'd likely have something closer to the fit in the pattern photo.

I don't hate it, but there's also quite a bit of extra fabric due to my not thinking about the meshes. I feel like I can style it with a cute ball cap and some slip-on sneakers and a little backpack and probably do all right, but it's 91 degrees today, so styling efforts were NOT a concern.

I do want to make sure you know that I have these buttons on it:

(got them here)

[lawleon]

Amigurumi - Part 1

I have tried to learn how to crochet in the past to no success, but this time I was able to have some success. It’s definitely not a perfect sphere, but that’s fine. This was made with these items: 100% Cotton Yarn - Weight 4 or Normal Weight (Not all of the yarn was used.) A Metal 5.50mm Crochet Hook - (For the construction of the magic circle.) A Metal 3.50mm Crochet Hook - (For the rest of the sphere.) A Pair of Scissors A Stitch Marker - (Not that it kept me from fucking things up.) I wanted to write down some thoughts and personal observations about the actual process while I’m still a beginner. I watched a myriad of only tangentially helpful tutorial videos that seemed to really only exist to pad out the youtube libraries of a craft mom cabal who were more interested in vainly showing off their wedding rings as opposed to actually teaching the process to someone with no prior knowledge. If someone reading this has any interest in learning how to crochet, but you’re having trouble like I did, maybe these observations will help you better understand the information these “tutorials” are failing to convey. Holding the Yarn - This is probably the thing that most tutorials managed to convey properly most of the time. They’ll say things like, “...hold it however is comfortable for you, this is how I hold it...“ The only real things you need to understand are: 1. The yarn must come from underneath to go over the top of the index finger on your non-dominant hand, you move that index finger to create tension. 2. Your middle finger and thumb on your non-dominant hand should be used to hold the previously worked portions of your project. You might need to pull with these in the beginning stages of your project to create some tension, but once you’ve got 2 to 3 rows in place you just need to keep it steady. 3. If you’re placing your hands on a table while you work make sure the yarn coming from the bundle/skein isn’t underneath the side of your palm. Holding the Hook - “You can hold it like a pencil or a knife, I hold it like a knife...“ This statement was repeated ad nauseam throughout these videos, but these women never explained why it was that they held their hooks the way they did. Here’s why: 1. Stability - Knife hold places the butt of the hook against your palm and you wrap all of the fingers aside from your index finger around it to keep it still. Pencil hold allows you to move your hook more easily, this is useful for situations where you’re working in a yarn dense area. Both holds are good, just stay consistent when you’re doing particular tasks. 2. Hook Shape - If you have a hook that’s just a straight piece of metal or plastic you’ll want to adopt the knife hold for the majority of your crochet. If you use hooks with a lip or ledge that will stop the yarn from going too far back on your hook the pencil hold should be adopted. Selecting your Hook and Yarn If you’re a beginner go with a medium weight, number 4 yarn. Both cotton and acrylic are suitable for a beginner because they don’t have a lot of stretch. I’d recommend cotton yarn, because as you work it fibers will come off and you will breath them in. Might as well reduce your micro-plastic intake friend. The band on your yarn will recommend a hook size. Number 4 yarn suggests a 5.5mm crochet hook, however for amigurumi you might want to go down a hook size or two in order to have your stitching be tighter in order for less stuffing to show through. Alright, now for the real tech they aren’t telling you. 1. When you watch the tutorial videos on youtube you must pay very close attention to where these ladies are placing their index finger on their dominant hand. There are times where they hold the loop of yarn on the hook in place and there are times where they let that loop go. The motion of the loop on the hook will determine how tight your stitches are more than anything else. 2. The base chain or the magic circle should be built with a larger hook size than what you intend to work the project with until you get used to making finer tension adjustments under your own power. The most positive reinforcement you can receive will come from successfully making something, you’ll also be able to gain experience with your hook. It’s painful to say this, but the base chain or the magic circle are the most important parts of the project, they set the tone and shape for the rest of the piece. Build those bases with larger hooks for extra leeway during the rest of the project so you can gain the experience of making something substantial with your hook. 3. Every amigurumi tutorial video I’ve seen will have you make a sphere. Make that sphere for EXP and then check out 7 or 8 stitch magic circles. The 6 stitch magic circle will have a noticeable hexagonal shape, scaling up to 7 or 8 stitches in your initial magic circle will alleviate that issue and give you a rounder final product. 8 stitches in your magic circle will allow you to create better patterns for changing yarn colors. 8 and it’s multiples are always divisible by 2 and 4 after all. 6 stitch magic circles on the other hand will always be divisible by 3. It’s worth consideration. These are the techniques I’d like to learn to employ in amigurumi creation. 1. Magic Circle - Could be better, but I’m able to make one decently well. 2. Invisible Increase - Not too difficult, I used it successfully in this project. 3. Invisible Decrease - I had some trouble seeing which stitches were in use. 4. Tying Off - Fairly easy once you’ve done it once. 5. Color Change (Perfect & Partial) 6. Yarn Under Method 7. Staggered Increases & Decreases 8. Stacked Stitches Gonna do a sphere cat next, I’ll definitely have less to say. Later.

[queerloquial]

finished gold road yesterday. undecided on how i feel about it

positive:

Son Boy Fennorian. good to see him, good to get a little bit of backstory, the vampire vineyard quest was kinda interesting

very glad they waited this long to do the west weald bc the zone is Great. they've really gotten better at environment design over the last decade

hell yeah mizzik thunderboots, and he comes with a fun murder mystery!

the goblin quest! like yes, Please, let's start looking at the 'monster' races as people with their own cultures rather than just as creatures to mow through. would love to see similar things in the future for, say, the minotaurs, fauns, and giants. would *especially* like to see them + the goblins/goblin-kin as npcs able to speak for themselves

negative:

fuck off with beragon. eveli was fine in wrothgar, but every subsequent appearance has grated on me, and i find beragon even worse. he's not very bright during quests, but not even in a fun way, and he talks So Fucking Slow. when i do quests for the first time i Like to let the npcs talk rather than just click through as fast as i can read, but he got on my nerves after two minutes with how stilted and flat he is

would've actually liked to see more of the recollection and the alleged connection to the ayleids. for the most part, the ayleids are generally reduced down to "they enslaved humans, were over-the-top cruel, and worshiped daedra", so i'd have liked to explore what would come of a 'modern' attempt to re-establish ayleid culture. it seems like the whole thing was just 'nantharion was using a supposed genetic connection to strengthen his claim to a throne, but then we killed him and so now nobody gives a shit about the ayleids again'??

really not digging the way this story only makes full sense if you also bought and played necrom. the chapter + dlc model for telling a full story was one thing, that at least Kind Of made sense and made each year feel self-contained, but tying together two chapters is just outrageous

maybe i just haven't played past main quests in a while but ohhhh boy. can we fuck off with the hand-holding. can we stop forcing npc assistants on quests who are going to cast shitty abilities too late and infrequent to be useful (the only time Any npc was helpful was in the last fight vs ithelia, with leramil's circle that restores ultimate). i got So annoyed being told every five seconds to use the lamp/skein/abolisher. like, you have spent the entire chapter showing me how each mechanic works. i do not need to be reminded Use Your Special Portal Sword every time you present me with a very obvious Portal Specifically To Be Used With The Special Portal Sword. i know what the fuck to do. shut up beragon

torvesard taking ithelia's power at the end felt very "ea told bioware that da2 needed another boss battle so orsino suddenly becomes a villain". i did find his death at ithelia's hand to be kind of touching, the idea of devotion being a corrupting force is appealing to me, but eh. not executed all that well, imo

ithelia is defeated by. showing her a magic mirror that makes her feel bad about. being angry she was exiled, imprisoned, and forcibly forgotten for the crime of existing in a way that makes others uncomfortable. and so she feels guilty and suddenly accepts that she Really Is A Monster and Need to be shut away. yeah i'm not vibing with the subtext of this one, guys

y'know what, i think if it were up to me i'd have tied those two together somehow. deepen ithelia and torvesard's relationship, the forgotten deity and the follower so devoted and loyal he will break reality to get her back, make it more About the terrible things that can be done in the name of love and service. have his desperation to stop the protag be the thing that gets through to ithelia? fanaticism as opposed to I Exist Incorrectly And Must Be Punished For It

???:

i am probably not the target audience for scribing. i liked the quest series well enough, the concept of the luminaries and ulfsild's journey with magic were both Interesting, i just. don't give a shit about spellcrafting?? maybe it's just bc my intro to tes was skyrim and so i don't have, like, Fond Childhood Memories TM of creating bullshit custom spells in morrowind/oblivion and therefore no desire to see that variant of customization come to eso. idk. i like the new colors for existing skills, tho wish they could apply to class skills

after playing high rock and necrom, both of which had main and side quests focused on exploring the culture and identity of bretons/dunmer, it was a little... disappointing? to not get much of the same for imperials. i guess there were multiple quests featuring legionaries?? and then the vineyard quest??

i'm not entirely opposed to the introduction of a new daedric prince, or to toying with the concept of a multiverse, but i'm not sure they quite nailed either, especially since at the end you just. negate the entire thing. like now i just want to follow ithelia wherever she went and find out What Is A Prince Without Their Power. how does a being like her- whose entire existence Is magic, is predicated on power and the exertion thereof- fit into a supposed world *that has no magic and where she is devoid of her innate power*??

killing gadayn for five minutes. what was the point. i'd have given him more presence through the story so that his loss (*much* earlier than in canon) is actually noticeable beyond "leramil is sad for a little bit". tease the idea that ithelia could bring him back from another path, maybe, make the player have to ask, even for a moment, "can there be a way to keep her around, do we have to completely destroy/exile her?"

actually i wish they'd explored the Many Paths more just, in general. maybe have the player hop across alternate timelines to accomplish plot shit?