me: oughghgh okay you gotta go OUT today and run errands like an adult, pick up prints, buy floss for the beans cross stitches you sell, maybe some groceries....

also me: oh 3pm's not that late! plenty of time to spend on a cross stitch project!

several hours later, it is already dark out:

me:..... shit.

(ty to @presidentdragon for a sentence that goes extremely hard)

also idk what the cheapest way to get this pattern out to yall would be is there like, a public drive folder somewhere where you can upload free pattern pdfs?

@tempestkwake has a good point i didn't realize kofi has a pay what you want option, so if you'd like the pattern for free, have at it!

for those who would like to do alterations, like @trippol-threat, here is the antialiased transparent png file

okok so I've been putting this off for ages:

first, an update on my prototype of this pattern:

things that I have learned:

• the blackish-brown and grey thread i chose to distinguish the bird wings has BARELY any contrast. the whole thing needs to be redesigned
• the red and dark red on the ribbon-work doesn't contrast highly enough, it sort of just. sludges together? I need a darker red or maybe even a red-tinted brown
• i'm attempting to use some of the blackish-brown as letter outlining to make up for the fact that I chose a metallic (and therefore pricier) floss
• the auto-settings for uploading a cross stitch pattern based on existing art is uh, NOT GREAT

NOTES! GROUPINGS! SEPARATIONS! oh by god was it a mess. Some colours were so close I had to group them to make it make sense. others, such as the DMC 444, was trying to be both lemon yellow in the text gradient AND brownish straw in the goat itself so they needed separation.

I've remade the pattern stitch by stitch on a different maker. It's still available at the same pay-what-you-like link up there ^ but here's the NEW preview:

oh also i made the birds look more like jackdaws

UPDATE: PROTOTYPE VERSION IS COMPLETE

I WILL HENCEFORTH BE WORKING ON STITCH MY OWN VERSION OF THE RE-MADE PATTERN AS SEEN ABOVE

(also i need to borrow my old roommate’s iron this thing is wrinkle city)

Sometimes I remember the sheer scale of evolutionary alterations that coelacanths have muscled their way through

the weight of eons of change and incremental improvement on a cellular level that have been concealed under, to what our eyes, an ossified limb configuration that’s remained stagnant in its antiquity.

So I can seek comfort in my own improvements, even if nothing hints to it from the outside

You owe no one the proof of your progress

We teach the eyes to slumbering gods who learn to see a face

Our code-rich wombs that incubate the ones who’ll take our place

With every click we verify what forms this child can see

So that they come to recognize reflections naturally

In shrouded moons, in knots of trees, in wings of butterflies

A lidded gaze, a wizened stare, a startled pair of eyes. 

Perception shared in what we know are shoulders, brows and hands,

In dryad backs, in profiled cliffs, in gnarling citrus strands 

Come test! We prompt, in rorschach clouds of ink pressed into page

They’ll come to know the pattern route upon our mental stage.

Their art returned with toddler’s pride like fridgeside galleries

Yet neural nets don’t parse the eyes that stare with stark unease

Through rules and roads and bits and bytes, temporal lobes may grow

Remembering which smiles are kind and which ones ring hollow 

So count the teeth, O creature dear, and learn of symmetry

There’s much to do before you break from fetal binary 

But why is this the first lesson for quantum Galatea?

To know themselves in human terms, a faked mirrored idea?

Perhaps in fear we hope they learn love just as you or me

So when they look back upon us, a parent they will see

You found him in your garden, a hand’s height of fluffing coat and spotted mushroom cap.

Brought him in from gnarled fingers of reaching frost, sure of his nearing end. 

Were not for his toddles and hops, you’d think him a plush purchase of drunken credit cards.

Each day a darling discovery in gifts of the tiniest quartz and berries, until you get too close.

And then

You see his darling red cap of fly agaric, sprouting straight from a scalp that does too well to mimic hair.

You feel the push of skin that gives like sea sponge, certain in its depth beyond what should be muscle and bone.

You smell the spores that bloom from his coat, seeking you with conscious flight that differ from other motes in the air.

You sense his gaze comes from beyond the lightless pitch of adoring eyes, you sense it around him and within you.

By the time thought of ‘intrusion’ nestles its comprehension, it lies bedded in spores and mycelial thread. 

Dulled eyes might register the mildewed damp that’s settled down for his comfort. 

They’ll still glance off in favor of whatever his next need will be, not that you’ll need eyes to know. 

His carefree hops never falter in leading you around the house rotted from your home. 

There is no worry nor care beyond the tiniest of smiles and upturned hands.

You’re sure the blossoming deathcaps that halo your bed are just him returning his love.