Double teaching joys today!
A couple of the boys were watching me cast on for someone and decided that they needed to learn the cast on I used, because it was so fast. (I do the long tail cast on, the version where you hold the yarn in one hand and most of the motion is with the needle). I got the "wait, look what I just did, that's so cool" look TWICE from one of them as he figured it out.
And I had pulled up Ravelry to help one of the students look for something to make. (This kid has TAKEN to knitting, and was looking for a bit more of a challenge, and I goofed and returned the book with the pattern they were interested in to the library). I realised afterwards that I had been less clear than I probably ought to have about the fact that that wasn't a site for 12-year-olds. Given that I had an e-mail address for their mom, I dropped her a line to clarify and apologise. She replied with a huge thank you for teaching her kid to knit. They have taught her now, and the both of them knit together. (This kid really needed something productive and positive to do too, last I heard from the mom she was a bit worried about some of the decisions they were making.) I'm still smiling over this.
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[ID: a wide panel from Trigun Maximum. In the foreground, Vash and Knives as children are facing away from the reader, so their expressions cannot be seen. In the middle of the panel is a bank of computer screens. In the background are three large glass tubes, which the boys are looking up at. The biggest and centremost tube contains a shadowed figure that might have once been a child. The legs are the thin legs of a humanoid child, but above that is a dark mass of bulging, torn, distorted flesh. a left hand is floating in the same tank, apparently torn off from the rest of the body. The right arm, with enough of the flesh gone to expose what may be the bones, is floating in one of the side tubes. The other side tube is mostly obscured by Vash's shoulder, but not enough to hide that it contains a brain, with the eyeballs still attached. The body in the centre tube does seem to still have a head, but so shadowed that what its face may look like, or even if it still has a face, is impossible to tell. End ID.]
There she is. Everything about this is so gross and horrifying. Even in death, her body was afforded no dignity, no personhood; Rem does her best to keep the place clean and leaves flowers, but Tessla's body is still floating in a test tube, preserved and exposed in all that was done to her. God I HOPE she was already dead when her arms started falling off. I SUPER HOPE that she was already dead when her brain and eyeballs were extracted; the optic nerves being fully connected, they may have cut off the entire top half of her head to get it out relatively intact. Int he manga, at least, there's no indication that she's anything but very, very dead, but I gotta give Stampede for finding the one way this could possibly be made any worse by flashing an "ALIVE" across the screen. In the manga, I genuinely hope her body was incinerated when the ship went down. I hope her body finally got the freedom of cremation or decomposition.
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WIP Wednesday
Coming in late, but I tagged by the lovely @elvensorceress and couldn't just NOT do something! Thank you! I wasn't sure I was going to keep this, since I hadn't set the timeline yet, but I think I will. So enjoy this little unedited side story moment I just wrote from Countdowns about Maddie coming to LA.
*Meanwhile, at a diner somewhere in the desert Southwest*
“Wait, can you turn that up? Please?” the woman at the counter asks. She’d been polite but quiet and touch skittish. Louise knew the type and gave Rocko at the grill a heads up to keep an eye out for trouble. It wouldn’t be the first, or sadly the last time a scared woman on the run was lured into the warmth of the diner near the bus stop, but that’s why Louise was here. Ol’ Mitch had been there when she’d needed a safe place for a meal, and now her and Rocko got to be the safe place for everyone else. They were ready for trouble if it came calling.
The woman is leaning forward, straining to see the story on the TV perched high in the corner of the room. Apparently some kind of bomb at a NASA rover demonstration was all it took to remove the skittish fear from the woman’s face and replace it with horror and an almost motherly concern.
Louise turns the TV up just as the camera zooms in closer on the young man with his leg trapped beneath the rover. The camera may not be close, and may be more focused on someone in what looks to be a bomb vest, but the yell the kid lets out as he tries to move still manages to come through, faint but clear. The woman gasps with her hand over her mouth and her eyes glassy with tears.
“He’s all alone,” is the first thing she says. Followed quickly by “Crush injuries are really tricky, he doesn’t-he doesn’t have much time, they need to get him out of there.”
Louise looks her over, then narrows her eyes at the screen and the hurt young man, knowing full well the bus that comes through has a route out of LA.
“Girl,” she says, gently, but firmly. “If he’s alright leaving marks like that on anyone,” gesturing to the woman’s wrist that had crept free from her jacket sleeves in her distress and distraction, “then maybe he deserves to get a foot crushed under a hunk of metal. No need to go running back for that.”
The woman’s head snaps over to Louise before she glances down and tugs her sleeve back into place. “No, that’s not-he’s-,” she sighs, looking worriedly back at the TV and chewing her lip while listening to the news anchor’s report and the repeat of what little information is available. “That’s my little brother,” she finally whispers, looking heartbroken. “That’s not who I was running from, it’s who I was running to.”
Ahhhh. The lightbulb clicks for Louise and she makes a soothing noise before going to grab a mug and murmur something to Rocko, returning with a steaming cup of lemon tea to place in front of the woman who takes it with a grateful smile, wrapping her hands around the cup to feel the warmth.
The diner is mostly empty so they sit together and watch the news unfold, the woman, Maddie as she introduced herself, wiping away tears when the bomber was disarmed and people swarmed to her brother, one woman kneeling next to him and holding his hand for comfort. Louise had to hand her a tissue when the small group of men around the rover couldn’t get it to budge and the kid, Evan, Maddie called him, screamed at the minute shifts in the weight pressing on him. She had to grab them both tissues when suddenly a barricade was moved and bystanders poured in to help, managing to lift the rover enough for the paramedics to slide the kid free and bundle him into an ambulance.
It's not until the camera follows the ambulance pulling away that Maddie looks around as if waking from a dream. “I-I need to go, I need to see when the next bus is coming, I have to get to LA as soon as possible,” she says as she starts to gather her things.
Rocko, with impeccable timing as always, pokes his head through the service window along with a pair of steaming breakfast specials. “Order up, and ride has arrived!” He shouts, just as a tall, broad woman walks through the door with a jingle of the bells overhead.
“I heard someone needed to get to LA in a hurry?” the woman calls out.
Maddie looks up, startled, and then turns to Louise. Louise just grabs the plats setting one in front of the new woman and the other in front of Maddie with a shrug. “Figured you might be anxious to get to your brother after all that, so I had Rocko get on the CB and see who was available.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly-“ Maddie starts to object but Louise waves her off.
“Lots of lost, scared women come through these bus stops out here. And Ruth,” she says, gesturing to the new woman who gives Maddie a nod before shoveling another giant bite of eggs and hashbrown into her mouth, “is a good friend with a big truck, a lead foot, and route directly to LA.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” Maddie replies and Louise just smiles and pushes the plate closer.
“Nothing to say, darlin’. Now eat up so you’ll be ready to hit the road and take care of that brother of yours.”
“Yes ma’am,” Maddie replies with a tired and strained but genuine smile. Louise nods at her one last time and walks off to make her coffee rounds for the few other patrons, stopping to tap the St. Christopher medal by the register and offer up a prayer for Maddie and Ruth, and for the young man hundreds of miles away being rushed through LA traffic to the hospital.
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