spun yarn

Two Hearts (Soulmate AU)

Summary: (Part 1 of 2) A Soulmate AU where soulmates share identical marks that are revealed when they meet. The reader doesn’t think she as a soulmate and begins to date Steve. Until she meets his best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Characters: Steve x Reader; Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,303

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. Thought I’d do a soulmate fic with a little drama in it. 

Originally posted by god8tasandwich

You are eight years old when you see soulmates meet for the first time. You have never met them, but it is still magical for you to witness and it is all you think about for the following days. For years, you harbor the hope that one day, you’ll be fortunate enough to meet your other half, relish in the fact that you will share matching marks and learn to love them the way you are meant to.

You grow up dreaming and fantasizing. All sorts of scenarios flit through your thoughts as you imagine about your first meeting with ‘the one’. Excitement bubbles up in your chest whenever you make eye contact with someone, but it isn’t as easy as you first thought.

Time rolls on by and your soulmate is absent, unheard of. Your friends, all of them, they have found their soulmates, the ones they will adore for the rest of their days, and you’re left to wallow in your loneliness on Friday nights throughout college.

Until you decide one day that you don’t believe in soulmates. You had done research about this particular subject. There are some rare individuals who never met their soulmates, who most likely had never even had one. They are the ‘unfortunate’ ones, cursed by fate to spend the entirety of their lives alone. But they had spun their own yarn; and had found people they had fallen in love with, without the necessity of a soulmate mark telling them it was the right thing to do.

And so you followed their example and decided to tread your own path.

Keep reading


Ákwà Ḿmírí (’water cloth’), Igbo cloths made from locally grown and hand-spun cotton yarns. [Left] Cloth purchased from Ibagwa Ani, Edemani, Ezzamgbo, Fowler Museum at UCLA. [Right] Loincloth made before 1932, Smithsonian Design Museum. This was the cloth worn for daily use before western clothing became popular, they’re still worn during cultural events.

Being Too Normal For Your Own Good
  • Dude: So what are you into?
  • Normal Girl: Eh, you know, work.
  • Dude: Just work? Do you like any music?
  • Normal Girl: Whatever's on the radio, I guess.
  • Dude: Like pop music?
  • Normal Girl: Do they play that on the radio?
  • Dude: It's all they play on the radio.
  • Normal Girl: Oh...
  • Dude: ...
  • Normal Girl: ...
  • Dude: So, do you do anything. Do you have any sort of interests? Hobbies? Likes? Dislikes? Kinks? Anything?
  • Normal Girl: *scratches her head* I like watching TV shows.
  • Dude: ...Yeah?
  • Normal Girl: On NBC.
  • Dude: *gets up from his seat* I think I'll be going now. I only date interesting girls.
  • Normal Girl: Wait, don't go!
  • Dude: What is it?
  • Normal Girl: Bye.
  • Dude: *groans*
  • Normal Girl: *looks around nervously* Gosh, I did it again. I scared off another potential friend. I tried so hard this time? I was even specific about the channel I watch television on. Is it true that I'm too normal? You, waitress!
  • Waitress: *turns around* Me? How may I help you?
  • Normal Girl: What food is served here?
  • Waitress: Pizza and other Italian dishes.
  • Normal Girl: Now ask me what I'd like to eat.
  • Waitress: Uhh, what would like to eat, ma'am.
  • Normal Girl: Just two slices of plain cheese pizza would be fine.
  • Waitress: *giggles under her breath*
  • Normal Girl: Why are you giggling? What's so funny.
  • Waitress: I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just that your order is so, how do I put this, normal.
  • Normal Girl: No, it can't be normal! I need to spice it up! Let me get pepperonis on that pizza.
  • Waitress: Would that be all, ma'am.
  • Normal Girl: Wait, no! Also a soda. A lemon lime soda!
  • Waitress: *guffaws*
  • Normal Girl: What is it now?
  • Waitress: Everything you ordered is so average and reasonable. You must be a very well mannered woman.
  • Normal Girl: There has to be some sort of topping that's so weird that it shatters any notion that I'm normal.
  • Waitress: Really? *cracks an evil smirk* I'm all ears.
  • Normal Girl: *internally* Think, you idiot. Think! Think about all of the possible pizza toppings you've ever heard of and just blurt out the weirdest, one. You're a big weirdo. You know you can do it! SO DO IT!
  • Normal Girl: *calmly* I think that'd be all, thank you.
  • Waitress: You're welcome ma'am, your order should be ready in a few minutes.
  • Normal Girl: No! I messed up! Why did I say that? I was trying so hard to think up something weird, but I couldn't do it. Something's not right here.
  • *the restaurant goes deathly quiet*
  • Normal Girl: *looks around confused, leaves the restaurant* Where is everyone. It's so desolate and empty now.
  • Old Crone: *crawls out from out of a sewer drain*
  • Normal Girl: Gross. Who are you?
  • Old Crone: The universe was spun from yarn, dear. Everyone was made with a purpose by the Yarnheart and some people were made to be bastions of stability. You are one of those very stable people.
  • Normal Girl: Thanks for the exposition old lady, but what exactly is going on here.
  • Old Crone: You've been a bore your whole life, dear. You can't just decide to be interesting out of nowhere. Me, I'm very interesting and I want to be boring. You wouldn't believe it from just looking at me, but I'm only twenty seven and I have the stamina of a clydesdale. I live everyday of my life on the fringes of reality. It's so exciting that you might as well say that it's purely terrifying. It's very rare that two opposites such as us are able to meet. Sickly and youthful. Normal and weird. If you want to break away from your normalcy, now is the time to do it.
  • Normal Girl: *glances back the restaurant* I have to pay for my pizza.
  • Old Crone: Forget the damn pizza. *reaches into your her chest and pulls out a ball of yarn* Did you see that? You can do the same. Pull out your heart and trade with me. You can live the life you want to, and I can live mine. This may be our only chance to ever do this.
  • Normal Girl: *sweats nervously* Yeah, but I can't do that without paying for my pizza first. It would be rude. *walks back to the restaurant*
  • Old Crone: I won't let you go! *lunges for the normal girl and pins her to the ground* Give me your heart!
  • Normal Girl: Get off of me you horrible, woman! *knocks away her ball of yarn and it unfurls*
  • Old Crone: Ah, fuck! *poofs into dust*
  • Normal Girl: *wipes herself off* That was weird... I didn't like it. *returns to the restaurant*
  • Waitress: Here you go, ma'am. Two slices of pepperoni pizza and a lemon lime soda.
  • Normal Girl: Thank you, it looks okay-ish. *eats her pizza but feels uncomfortable*
  • Normal Girl: *reaches into her chest and pulls out her heart*
  • Heart: *beats*
  • Normal Girl: Eh, it's just a normal heart. I knew I didn't have a ball of yarn inside of me. Old folks are weird. I hope I don't get like that when I get older. *places her heart and the table and continues eating pizza*

In the photo tent today : a flock of shagai.

The woolly shagai are raised by the mandrake roots in the village of Peewick for their thick coats. Their coats are very thick and incredibly soft. “Shaggies,” as they are usually referred to, are sheared multiple times a year and the fibers are spun into yarn. All shaggies grow downward-facing horns. Shepherds outfit their shaggies with matching blankets and crystals to distinguish them from other herds. Also, it keeps ‘em looking snazzy! ❄

This flock of shaggies will be available in the shop tonight at 8pm EST for $45 + shipping. Stay tuned for more information on the village of Peewick!

So this Sunday we went to Knit City (it’s basically a  local fibre festival) and while my bank account wept, my yarn stash couldnt be happier! 

I came out with TONS of roving. Some that I plan to spin and some for weaving. My all time favorite vendor was there so I stocked up big time because she doesnt have a store. 

One thing I wanted to point out: those skeins on the bottom right, the purple and the white: they’re made from - get this - MILK

Yeah. I couldnt resist getting some stuff from this guy. Milk yarn….. 

Apparently, he uses dehydrated milk proteins to spin yarn. It’s crazy soft, and feels very similar to silk, and has a lovely sheen to it. 

Felt like writing some poetry (because fitting language into meters/rhyme schemes is fun, not because of any creative inclinations), so decided to translate Wir sind des Geyers schwarzer Haufen into English while preserving the meter and the rhyme.

We’re Geyer’s lot, we’re clad in black!
Heya, oho!
Our tyrant lords we will attack!
Heya, oho!

Pikes, ahead!
Ready, set!
Dab the monasteries with paint of red! 

When Eve spun yarn and Adam dug—
Kyrie eleis’—
who had then any nobler blood?
Kyrie eleis’!

Brave Florian Geyer leads his troops,
outlawed, expelled!
He carries flags of leather shoes,
armour, and helm.

In fire, Weinsberg’s castle fell
Heya, oho!
The pris'ners ran the gauntlet well
Heya, oho!

Though home we trek now, beaten in—
heya, oho—
our sons will fight again and win!
Heya, oho!


  • I had to resort to near-rhymes a lot. But I tried to keep the consonants similar even when they weren’t exactly the same.
    I’m not really sure what drauf und dran (literally ‘on it and at it’) in the chorus means, and “ready, set” is a slightly silly-sounding translation, but it’s the best I could do.
  • “Dab the monasteries with paint of red” isn’t a clichéd metaphor in English, I just made it up because I don’t know any English clichéd metaphors that would appropriately translate the German einen Roten Hahn aufs Dach setzen ‘set fire to (a building)’ (literally ‘seat a red cock on the roof’).
  • There’s no good translation of Bundschuh (translated here as ‘leather shoe’) since it refers to a specific style of medieval German footwear that has no English word for it as far as I know.
  • For me, “fire” has as many syllables as Geyer, i.e. 2. If this disturbs you, replace “In fire, Weinsberg’s castle fell” with “In fire, the Weinsberg castle fell”.
  • “Beaten in” isn’t a real expression, you normally just say “beaten”. It sounds OK to me, but that line could be improved.
Understanding Acrylic

Remember what I said about acrylics being really heavily industrial?  Well yeah, get ready for this one to involve a whole lot of chemicals and information on industrial processes.

Acrylics are synthetic fibers made of a polymer known as polyacrylonitrile.  For a fiber to be called acrylic in the US, it must contain at least 85% acrylonitrile monomer.  DuPont, you know that Dupont, the huge chemical company, created the first acrylic fiber back in 1941 and marketed it as Orlon.  But it didn’t catch on until the 1950′s.

I’m just straight up quoting from the wikipedia article on acrylic for the next chunk.  It’s hard and confusing to paraphrase it as it’s hard and confusing anyway.

The polymer is formed by free-radical polymerization in aqueous suspension. The fiber is produced by dissolving the polymer in a solvent such as N,N-dimethylformamide (DMF) or aqueous sodium thiocyanate, metering it through a multi-hole spinnerette and coagulating the resultant filaments in an aqueous solution of the same solvent (wet spinning) or evaporating the solvent in a stream of heated inert gas (dry spinning). Washing, stretching, drying and crimping complete the processing. Acrylic fibers are produced in a range of deniers, typically from 0.9 to 15, as cut staple or as a 500,000 to 1 million filament tow. End uses include sweaters, hats, hand-knitting yarns, socks, rugs, awnings, boat covers, and upholstery; the fiber is also used as “PAN” precursor for carbon fiber. Production of acrylic fibers is centered in the Far East, Turkey, India, Mexico, and South America, though a number of European producers still continue to operate, including Dralon and Fisipe. US producers have ended production, though acrylic tow and staple are still spun into yarns in the USA.

I’ll sum up the best that I can.  The chemical goop is put into something like a specialized colander and then pushed out.  While the article doesn’t include any information on this, I’d assume the reason that acrylics aren’t produced in the US or much in Europe is a combination of labor costs and stricter environmental laws.  I assume this because that’s why a lot of manufacturing isn’t done in these places.

And again, as wikipedia does better than me….

Acrylic is lightweight, soft, and warm, with a wool-like feel. It can also be made to mimic other fibers, such as cotton, when spun on short staple equipment. Some acrylic is extruded in colored or pigmented form; other is extruded in “ecru”, otherwise known as “natural,” “raw white,” or “undyed.” Pigmented fiber has highest light-fastness. Its fibers are very resilient compared to both other synthetics and natural fibers. Some acrylic is used in clothing as a less expensive alternative to cashmere, due to the similar feeling of the materials. Some acrylic fabrics may fuzz or pill easily, though there are low-pilling variants. Acrylic takes color well, is washable, and is generally hypoallergenic. End-uses include socks, hats, gloves, scarves, sweaters, home furnishing fabrics, and awnings. Acrylic can also be used to make fake fur and to make many different knitted clothes.

As acrylic is a synthetic fiber, the larvae of clothes moths are unable to digest it. However, acrylic fibers that are blended with wool or soiled may be eaten accidentally.

Acrylic is the “workhorse” hand-crafting fiber for crafters who knit or crochet; acrylic yarn may be perceived as “cheap” because it is typically priced lower than its natural-fiber counterparts, and because it lacks some of their properties, including softness and propensity to felt. The fiber requires heat to “relax” or set the shape of the finished garment, and it isn’t as warm when wet as alternatives like wool. Some hand-knitters also complain that the fiber “squeaks” when knitted, or that it is painful to knit with because of a lack of “give” or stretch in the yarn. On the other hand, it is machine-washable, hypo-allergenic, and extremely color-fast. This makes it useful in certain items, like garments for babies, which require constant washing. However it is much more flammable than its natural fiber counterparts, so caution should be used when making items for babies and children.

So yeah, pluses and minuses.  This whole series is about helping people realize that there’s no such thing as a perfect fiber, that it’s all about picking the right fiber for your needs at that moment.  Our needs are a perpetually changing thing, after all.  So with all that in mind, I’ll be continuing on with the synthetics tomorrow. 

Sleepy Town

Dusk shrouds foggy walks
Whispers heard when no one talks
The old town hall shines felicity
Its library shares the pageantry

Main Street bristles with conspicuous zeal
Spirits roam unseen when unreal
Tales abound of young maidens kissed
Faces unknown for souls unmissed

Yarns be spun of their tiny cove
Time surrounds, the mind does rove
Behind every door lie stories untold
Life in a village three hundred years old

High on the hill sits a Queen Anne alone
She’s peaks of copper and footing of stone
Her windows boarded to hide the view
Abandoned by the town, seen by few

The home once a school for wayward boys
Most had no families, none knew of toys
A cagey couple was completely in charge
Both small in stature yet looming large

The mistress taught letters with pointer or switch
The master kept numbers making them rich
Gruel’s fed to the students, the master’s meat
The boys froze; the pair warmed by their heat

Ablaze was the furnace ahead of each storm
The lads safely locked in their cold attic dorm.
Their sniffles and sneezes all kept at bay
The masters swept all the sickness away

Each year had runaways, never to be found
Searches end at the edge of school ground
Then came a young man sheltered in error
He promptly escaped and reported the terror

Inquires made, investigations were had
The masters left freely, the mayor glad
The school was closed with little fanfare
The boys sent away with little a care

Rumors lost from days long past
Horrors are hidden all too fast
No more’s said of the young boys plight
And another sun sets on a sleepy town’s night