#and the yarn colors this season are so pretty

[kikiknits]

What I need to be doing: continuing these sleeves or perhaps going the f**k to sleep.

What I do NOT need to be doing: looking at new patterns and thinking what yarn might go well with them.

Guess what I’m doing. Guess. 😅

[freshstitches]

This is not a hotdog 🌭 🧶 It's 2 of my favorite winter accessories.

They're both worked in a combination of stockinette stitch and ribbing. And you can see in two color examples that the stockinette is a single strand. When you transition to the ribbing section, a second strand of yarn is added and the needle size goes up. There's so much potential for different color combinations.

The Hat is pretty straightforward. The brim is essentially a hem. It's warm enough to wear folded down or if you need extra warmth you can fold it up and have triple thick protection against the wind.  It's just a nice, basic hat, and it's interesting and fun to make.

The scarf is actually much more interesting. As we get further into gift knitting season, there's less and less time to make things. The scarf is only half the length of a traditional size with a loop on one end. To wear it, pull the end through the loop to make a knot. It saves you a little bit of money on yarn and a whole lot of knitting time. 

When you're not wearing them, roll the hat up inside the scarfand flip the loop inside out. They'll stay together and compact in your bag. 

The PDF download is available on my website and on Ravelry and until Nov, 7, take 20% off all patterns, pins, books and stickers when you use the code "FoxyBday"

[twisted--stitches]

Started working on the Victoriana Turtleneck by Fable Knitwear. It is so so pretty and I really want it finished in time for winter holiday season. It looks itty bitty right now

but it stretches well! Ribbed cables make knits look tiny until you block or wear them

I love the color of the yarn it reminds me of vanilla ice cream!

[vidavalor]

Hello! I love your posts about the Ineffable Husbands coded speech so I wanted to ask if you caught the double meaning of the word “clue”! It is one which we hear the first time after the pub and jealous Crowley. The word “Clue” has a double meaning as it is slang for “developing an erection”. Didn’t know if you already caught it, but wanted to share that with you! 😂

Allo allo allo @the-apology-dance! 💕I'm glad you're enjoying reading my wordy rambles. Thanks for the reminder of modern use of "clue." I did think it euphemistic in S2 and why relates to a few other words, so, a shiny little bit o' meta for you on clue, investigate, appearance, suspicion, trace, Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, and goo in Ineffable Husbands Speak.

Like you pointed out, in our modern times, clue is used euphemistically for getting/having an erection. In slang terms, it's not that old by comparison to other euphemisms for the same thing-- one of which is, of course, "pitching a tent", which the canopy-themed season didn't ignore, as we looked at in another meta how it's one of the words produced by homophony in Aziraphale's French. The thing that's funny about Aziraphale's euphemistic use of clue in S2 is that it's part of their wordplay for reasons different from how we use it so it winds up not really mattering if they know the reason why the rest of us do or not.

A clue as euphemistic for an erection in our world originated around 2006/2007 off of it being used that way in an episode of South Park. Crowley & Aziraphale don't need to know that or even be remotely aware of it for clue to be euphemistic already in Ineffable Husbands Speak because of the etymology of the word. (And, as with everything, it's also possible that they are-- unintentionally or otherwise-- actually the origin of it.)

Clue-- in the sense of a piece of information that helps or could help in solving a mystery-- is a respelling of the Middle English/Germanic words clew/clewe and the French cleue, all of which mean a ball of yarn or thread. It's a really neat origin for a word because of its built-in metaphor-- getting a clue is pulling on threads to unravel a mystery. It also evolved into having a nautical meaning... and we know these two and the sea.

A clue with relation to seafaring is to raise a sail up through use of the cluelines/clewlines on the ship. So, ah, as you can see lol... we're already at an erection euphemism pretty easily without them having the first clue about South Park, right? Clue is tied to both the sea and to thread/yarn, which is seamstress work, which is part of the colors & clothing-themed euphemisms that they have going on as well. There are some of the colors and clothing stuff in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings and also it's part of the shades of grey convo in 1941, etc.. [I've other Asks related to Mrs. Sandwich/seamstress & the shades of grey convos so more on those soon.] But it's the element of a sense of mystery involved in clue, along with everything else, that makes Aziraphale so hot for the word.

If one of the metas you read was the one about Tip Top, Thank You & Ticketyboo, then you saw a couple of examples of wordplay around the verb to come. The long and short of it is that we humans, as you know, refer to having an orgasm as having come and, within that, is this implicit sense of travel, right?

A coming is an arrival and to come means that you arrived. It implies a journey was undertaken-- that you went somewhere and eventually got to a destination. Humans do this linguistically with other mind-body experiences as well-- you "go to" sleep; you can have "a bad trip" on drugs, etc.. In addition to this, there is a never-ending list of travel-related euphemisms for sex in support of the verb to come. A ride, for example, can be had in a car, on a horse or with your partner. Relevant to what you're talking about with clue, though, is what else that the verb to come deals with and that's appearances and disappearances.

To come also means to appear-- as in, to come into view. This is amusing to Crowley & Aziraphale since, ya know... they can appear and disappear at will. 😄 They're magical beings who can miracle themselves places and pop up in each other's presence. Sometimes, this is part of whatever they're playing at in the moment, like in 1793:

Other times, it's in reference to a mystery, which is often centered around a disappearance. As a result of to come meaning to appear, there are a series of other words related to disappearance that show up in their wordplay. Two of them-- suspicion and trace-- pop up in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings. Crowley buried the word pish (which has ties to nightingales, fish, and peas, as we looked at in another meta) in the middle of "suspicious" while tying it to Aziraphale's ears in the entry. Among the other bits of wordplay in there is that one definition of suspicion is that it is the barest trace of something and to trace also means to lightly outline with touch.

Additionally? Something that "seems fishy" is something that is suspicious.

The word investigate-- what one does with a mystery-- is from the Latin in (in this case, meaning into) and vestigare (which means to trace). So Crowley's use of suspicious in Demon's Guide and Aziraphale's use of investigate in S2 are playing at the same root word of trace-- a word related to disappearance/appearance/to come that isn't just an action one might take to track clues in a case but is also how one might touch their partner when feeling a bit amorous.

But investigate is also funny to Crowley & Aziraphale for another reason: the words inside the word.

Investigate: IN. VEST... 😂 A day hasn't gone by in, like, at least three hundred plus years that either of them hasn't been wearing a vest and Aziraphale has a clue and he's thinking he might take the car that he's made into an on-going sexual metaphor for Crowley and he wants to go do some investigating...

...and it would seem that this has something to do with why this description of Aziraphale's planned trip involves him pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek in the time-honored, traditional, non-verbal sign for indicating a desire to give a blowjob. Aziraphale plans to thoroughly follow all possible leads but his hope is that following the clues in this in.vest.igation will lead him on a path south of Snake Belt.

It's also hilarious that Aziraphale tells Crowley that he got his clue from Gabriel 😄-- who was singing to Aziraphale in the house this morning.

Additionally, investigate includes the words gate and ate, right?

Ate obviously relates to their constant theme of food. The word gate originally meant not a door but a hole or to breach a hole and also the eye of a needle... so, we're also back to our ball of yarn/thread in our seamstress-y word of clue. Among its original spellings were geat (so, containing eat) and geatu (containing eat + u lol). As if that weren't enough? The word gate is also found in a French word that is pronounced somewhat similarly to geatu, which is gateau.

A gateau is a rich, French sponge cake that has layers of icing, cream and/or fruit. In Good Omens: Lockdown, Aziraphale is sharing what he's baked during Lockdown but everything that he's baked is euphemistic for fantasies he's been having to get himself off, the content of which he's sharing by way of describing them as kinds of cake. He tells Crowley that he has baked (and "has baked") a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte, which is almost a Black Forest Gateau but for one, key difference: by definition, it contains alcohol.

Crowley is the embodiment of an elegant and sexy Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte-- a rich chocolate sponge cake layered with and topped with whipped cream and cherries. In Germany, it is actually illegal to refer to a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte as such unless it contains kirschwasser, which is a cherry brandy made from regional cherries. If it doesn't have that, it's a chocolate cake or, depending on how its made, a Black Forest Gateau.

Alcohol refers to sex and, while it appears to be a generalized word for it as well, it also phonetically kind of spells out what it is: alcohol is "all-co-hol." A hol is a hole or a hollow in several different languages and it's Dutch slang for anus/arsehole/the ass as a whole. Making things funnier? It's also apparently the Dutch word for a cargo hold on a ship. Alcohol is then sex featuring equal hol opportunity for both of them and for Aziraphale to have baked a Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte is to have gotten himself there fantasizing about having some alcohol with his "whipped-cream"-covered, cherry-topped, black forest gateau.

You'll notice that while they eat chocolate, Aziraphale does not ever eat or bake-- and definitely has never had any desire to "bake"-- a Devil's Food Cake. That would just be offensive. You might also notice that Aziraphale said the name of another kind of cake "incorrectly" in Lockdown-- it's called Angel Food Cake. Aziraphale calls it Angel's Food Cake... verbal italics and apostrophe emphasis included. 😉

Anyway... back to clue... in the South Park episode that started the euphemism, there's actually a second one that developed as a result, too, as you likely know, and that's clue goo-- which is euphemistic, as you might suspect, for semen. Goo is a word that Crowley actually uses twice in the series-- once in the show itself and it's one of the words that shows up in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings.

When Crowley proposes that they run off together in the bandstand disaster scene, he's using a bunch of sexual euphemisms in the process, largely because he knows that Aziraphale is going to reject him. He also is because of language overlap with Armageddon and destruction with sex. In the bandstand scene, he uses "a puddle of burning goo" to describe the end of the Earth as a result of Armageddon but it's also probably an accurate description of Crowley himself after sex. Self-descriptive as well, probably lol.

Because goo is a sticky or, well, gooey, substance but it's also sappy, mushy, romantic sentiment. When Crowley uses the word in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings, both of those meanings are present, with the idea that what he's writing is total goo (and it is) but he doesn't care. Additionally, he is also referencing its homophone-- gu, the root of the word guru.

Gu is a Sanskrit word that means, among other things: to go (similar in travel theme to to come), water, earth. Guru itself means "worthy of respect." A guru is an expert and guide who dispels spiritual darkness and is one of several references in Demon's Guide where both Crowley and Aziraphale use words relating to healers, the ecclesiastical and other forms of ministry to describe one another, all in a way that relates love and sex in their eyes to a form of spirituality.

Crowley uses guru for Aziraphale and, also, the-erotic-as-religion theme appears to be one of the reasons behind his choice for Aziraphale of the word bishop... one meaning of which is one who, ahem, oversees the actions and spiritual needs of other clergy...

...while Aziraphale goes full throttle on the blasphemy as he always delightfully does and refers to Crowley as a god... several of them.

Finally, if you're looking for words within words, you probably noticed that the word appear has a rather familiar one in it: pear.

But, that's for next time. 😉

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Autumn with Foul Legacy HCs

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Genre: Fluff Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Warnings: Mentions of rain, thunder, and lightning

~ * ~ -Welcome to autumn!! That lovely season between summer and winter that keeps everything on track and in balance -Liyue is more of a temperate region, so often you can’t tell that summer has ended until autumn is already half over -But oh boy, when the weather changes, it CHANGES -One day it’s sunny and mild, the next day it’s pouring rain, you and Foul Legacy staring out the window in disbelief -He then nudges your shoulder, glancing from you to the rain and back again with a pleading expression. With a sigh you allow him to pull you back into bed, snuggling up to you with a happy chirp -Taking the first rainy autumn day off from work becomes a tradition for the two of you -And when it’s not pouring, walks outside the city are an absolute must! Liyue is a sight to behold in autumn, with the leaves turning vibrant colors and slowly falling from their branches- you and Legacy happily crunch many, many leaves underfoot, relishing the crispy crackling sound they make -It’s also harvest season, so there’s plenty of apples and other fruit growing from the trees for you to snack on -SPEAKING OF APPLES, you and Foul Legacy could harvest some to make cider, he is very enthusiastic when helping you!! Occasionally an apple will fall and bonk him on the head, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the chagrined trill he lets out -Warm drinks aplenty, especially during cooler days. You make tea, hot cocoa, the aforementioned cider- but not coffee. Never coffee. Have you ever seen an Abyss monster on caffeine? Do not give Foul Legacy coffee -You’ll curl up with these warm drinks together, cuddled under a blanket as you watch storms and wind from the safety of your home. Sometimes there’s thunder and lightning, and Legacy quickly hides under the covers and presses himself up to you with a slight shiver, but he slowly begins to purrs when you run your fingers through his hair, tense muscles loosening -The colder season also means thicker clothes, which means comfy sweaters!! You take great joy in wrapping yourself in cozy coats and scarves -Unfortunately shops don’t make sweaters in Legacy’s size, which he is very sad about :( So you decide to make one for him! It’s a deep blue color, made with yarn that has little silver threads in it so it glints when the fabric moves -He absolutely adores it, chittering in delight and running his claws delicately over the soft cloth before very carefully putting it on. Now he’s warm and comfy and so much better to lean your head against :) He treats that sweater like it’s made of gold -The nights also get chilly, so there’s a 95% chance you’ll end up with a moth in your arms and vice versa. Abyss creatures get cold (and lonely) too! -If you’re out for a walk and a particularly biting wind comes by, he’ll bury his face in your neck or put his claws against your warm stomach- he never admits how much he likes the startled shriek you let out -Occasionally it will start drizzling during your walk and you have to run home, getting to witness Legacy shaking out his wings and hissing in displeasure, pouting until you smile and give him a tight hug of reassurance -Autumn is the season of cooking and baking, and Foul Legacy LOVES peeking over your shoulder to see what delicious treat you’re working on. He’ll even dare to sneak a taste here and there, letting out low, rumbling laughs when you catch him in the act -You also make jam together!! There’s plenty of fresh berries growing, so you’ll pick some and preserve it in jars for the winter (Foul Legacy likes strawberry rhubarb) and the whole house smells DELICIOUS -He’ll keep any pretty leaves he sees and give them to you as a gift :) And if you press and save them, he’ll be so incredibly happy

-Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows- a lot of rainstorms and thunder, honestly. Some days you have to sneak out of bed before Foul Legacy’s even awake, leaving only a gentle kiss on his forehead as you head to work while it’s still dark and raining -Those days are hard, having to file reports and attend meetings with your shoes soaking wet and sleep still in your eyes, because everyone at your job always wants something -But it’s alright, you can handle it, because you know that there’s someone waiting for you at home, someone curled up on the couch and looking at the window to try and catch sight of your figure walking back -And the moment you open that door, you’re scooped into his embrace, your Foul Legacy’s arms snaking around you and giving you a tender hug. You hug him back as your heart warms, the first smile of the day creeping onto your face when he carries you to his blanket nest for snuggles, so you can feel warm and toasty and happy again on this dreary autumn day

[dominiquelucalover]

May I request Street's or Deac's girlfriend gifting the team hats she crocheted 🧶 for Christmas 🎄? I'd love to see her plus sized if you don't mind! (I totally didn't request this because I've made almost 10 hats for Christmas)

Giving Season | Jim Street x Plus-Sized!Fem!Reader

CW: nothing but fluff!

The Christmas season was always your favorite time of year; the pretty lights, the warm and fuzzy feelings going around, and showing everyone around you how much you appreciate them through gift giving and spending time together. It was amazing and fun and wonderful.

When you started dating Jim Street, he invited you to hang out with his SWAT family from time to time. After a while, you were practically a part of that family. Street adored you and talked about you all the time, as his teammates would tell you, and they'd tease him for it in a loving manner. You were just was enamored by him, which they could tell by the way you held onto his arm and looked at him with nothing but love in your eyes. So, it was a no-brainer to invite you to SWAT family Christmas.

You were so excited, planning for the day of with vigor and creativity. You began working on gifts for everyone, thinking of the perfect colors to use and whether or not to had a puff ball on the top. You were in a hat making frenzy, crocheting to your heart's desire. To say your living room was strewn with yarn, charms, and other materials was an understatement. A tornado of inspiration had torn through your place and you were on a roll. By the time Christmas Eve approached, which was when you were exchanging gifts with the team, you had a hefty amount of wrapped gift boxes in a large bag to carry.

Street picked you up and took the bag from you, being quite the gentleman. He drove to the little party being thrown at his and Luca's place, which was decked out with Christmas lights and a nice, humble tree. Christmas mucis instrumentals played softly over the speakers as Luca finished putting out a hot cocoa bar.

You were welcomed with hugs and bright, cheery grins. Tan saw the bag as Street brought it in, rubbing his hands together.

"What'd you get us?" he asked, almost sounding like a child on Christmas day.

You laughed. "You'll have to wait and see."

Street put the bag down and you unpacked everything to place under the tree. You'd spent time wrapping the little boxes and putting pretty bows on them. They were the prettiest gifts under the Christmas tree, which Hondo mentioned as he watched you.

"Outdoing us all on the Christmas wrapping game, huh?" he joked.

You laughed and stood up, folding the bag down. "Well, what can I say? I come from a long line of gift wrapping masters."

From there, the party really started. You socialized with everyone and ate cookies and other goodies. You and Street made hot cocoa and nearly made a mess of the kitchen, making the both of you laugh. Everyone was having fun, eventually calming down enough to sit in the living room.

You took the role of handing out gifts to everyone. Most were gag gifts but got a nice laugh out of everyone. A few gifts were genuine and thoughtful. Street got you a shirt that 'My Boyfriend is SWAT' which made you giggle.

Then everyone got to your gifts and you watched patiently. Street tore into his first, pulling the crouched hat from its box and grinning wide. "This is my favorite color."

"I know," you smiled and kissed his cheek.

Chris' hat was checkered white and blue, which she put on immediately as she thanked you. Luca had a big hat with ear covers, making him look like a puppy. Tan's was striped with a puff ball on the top. Hondo's was simple yet perfect for him, solid black with a thick rim.

Deacon had the biggest box and when he opened it, he understood why. In your frenzy, you'd made more hats than necessary, so you gifted him a few extra for Annie and the kids.

He gave you a big hug as he thanked you. "The kids will love these."

"You're welcome," you told him and pulled out your own hat, which looked more Santa-like than the others, and put it on. Then, with everyone's hats on, you took a group picture with big smiles on your faces.

After the party, you stayed to help Street and Luca clean up the place. As you were tossing trash in the bin, Street came up behind you. His arms snaked around your thick waist and pulled you back into him. His lips met your cheek.

"Best Christmas yet," he mumbled sweetly.

You looked at him over his shoulder and smiled. "It's not over yet."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? What else have you got to give?"

You hummed and went back to cleaning. "You'll just have to see."

He pouted and tried to pull you away from the counter. "But I hate waiting."

"Well, too bad," you laughed and turned to him. Giving him a proper kiss, you allowed yourself a short break from the housekeeping. Then you pulled away and sighed. "Tomorrow, you'll see."

With a wink, you turned away from him and continued clean up duty. He watched you with nothing but admiration, hoping you'll love the gift he'll give you tomorrow.

[comfymon]

warm knitted beanie

i finished this beanie mid-december- just in time for the winter season. i made this for my partner because he loves wearing beanies. january brought a lot of below-freezing weather, so i'm glad i finished it in time for him to wear it outside.

while in japan, we were in setagaya, and we passed by a yarn store on the way to lunch. so after eating, we hurried back. i was so excited to find a cozy, little yarn store! some people were sitting at a table in the store and working on their projects. in the store, i browsed the yarn and found some pretty yarns from husky brand. the yarn is made in Italy, and it feels so soft! my partner said that he would like a beanie made from the yarn, so I purchased it with that in mind. he usually wears a lot of blue, so we picked the red/orange for something different.

you know the feeling of using a really nice yarn for a project? it makes you want to keep knitting. i loved seeing the colors unravel while working and was surprised at how neatly the colors laid out!

my partner loves a folded brim beanie, so i took inspiration from my acne studios beanie which is the warmest beanie i own (it better be for the price!!!) i measured the acne beanie, and it was about 15 inches before the decrease, and the brim is folded twice. so, i knitted this beanie to be pretty long. i knitted this flat on circular needles, i find it way easier than knitting in the round. it's been a while since i've properly knitted in the round lol

my partner loves this beanie a lot and wears it happily!

yarn store: puppy yarn

yarn: husky yarn, color 205, 50% wool, 50% acrylic

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Four point Five.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C     

word count: 7.9K  

chapter summary:  If Din Djarin was going to be f----d to death by a crazy Dahl-woman, he wanted to be comfortable.    

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI!, Mando'a and English cursing, unprotected PiV sexual situations, non-con sexual situations, violent situations, past hurt, past misogyny, past child abuse

You Were Marked: Masterlist 

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Marathel kept up her high-speed march all the way from the chook pen to her hut.  She was so angry, and Frith, it felt so good to be angry.  Better to be angry than being so scared, so sad, so lonely all the time.  The fact that she probably had no right to be angry at the Bounty Hunter mattered not one whit to her.  How dare he!  How dare he have the temerity to laugh at her as she struggled to climb down a tree!  Tearing her only gown, no less.  The gown that she had spent the entire of the cold season making, preparing all the plant fiber, spinning enough yarn to wrap around the Hold wall thousands of times, finding the perfect flowers to make the beautiful yellow that made her think of sunshine and warm days and freedom, warping and wefting and weaving that yarn into the deepest hours of the night because she was so excited to make something that wasn’t the colors of dirt and grass.  Why in the name of Frith had she worn that gown today?  It wasn’t even remotely useful, and she knew she was going into the chook pen today ... not the cleanest of places, but then she didn’t expect to be put into a tree by a little spoiled brat!  

Marathel stomped up into her hut, setting her basket of mostly broken eggs on the counter.  Even worse, the whole morning had been a waste, food-wise.  With a grimace, she poured the egg mess from the basket into her largest bowl.  Out of all the eggs, only three managed to come through unscathed or uneaten by the gaping maw of the little green goblin.  The rest she whipped into a scrambled frenzy, imagining it was the Bounty Hunter's liver she was blending into froth.  She strained the whipped eggs through layers of cheesecloth to get out all the shells.    

And what am I going to do with all this? she thought.  All these eggs would make the largest omelet ever.  Good enough for the Bounty Hunter and that bottomless pit of a son of his!   All these eggs, I hope they both get terrible wind and just blow away to wherever they came from!    

The image in her head of the Bounty Hunter and the little green boy flying due to wind made her laugh as she held her face in her hands.  The laughter ebbed away into a single sob.  Oh Frith, she was so confused and frustrated.  She had worn the gown because she felt pretty today, and so, she wanted to look pretty.  But trying to impress the Bounty Hunter? Oh, no no no, why would she want to do that?  Her thoughts wandered back to the previous night, when she was under the spell of the Dahls.  She had been mostly aware of what was happening the entire time – of what she and the Bounty Hunter were doing – but it hadn’t been her.  Not fully.  Sort of.  Oh, it was so hard to explain, even to herself!    

The eggs taken care of, Marathel looked down at her dress and smock, stained with pitch.  She twisted around to see the tear in the back.  Hopefully it was repairable.  She quickly pulled both over her head and off, forgetting that she was standing in the middle of her hut wearing nothing but her shift and those two male-types could show up at any moment.  With an exasperated grunt, she went behind her curtains.  She just had to invite them to stay, didn’t she?  Ordinarily modesty didn’t concern her much; no one came to bother her over here anymore.  When she first came to live at the hut, she would either hide or chuck rocks to drive off the Cyiloggs the Hold sent out to bring her back.   After a while, they stopped coming … so she assumed that the Hold and The Bishop wanted nothing to do with her now.  Diwhyn Olba had come out to inform her that she would be left alone so long as she delivered Dahl eggs for the Elders each season.  But then the Bounty Hunter appeared with his tiny metal whatever-it-was that had The Bishop’s voice within, telling her that he had not forgotten her, that she had an obligation in the Hold that he still expected her to keep.  

Oh, Diwhyn Olba, I wish you were here right now.  

Marathel indulged in a moment of tearful self-pity, calling herself foolish a thousand times over.  She found some clean clothes and put those on.  Looking down at herself, she felt as plain as the quack grass color of her clothing.  Patched.  Utilitarian.  As frumpy as a Diwhyn.  With a sigh, she left her curtains and picked up her gown and smock from the floor.  The smock had a couple of snags and would be easily fixed.  The tear in the gown was L-shaped and went straight along the grain of the fabric.  This could also be fixed almost invisibly if she was careful.    Marathel dug through her basket that held the remainders of her spun yarn, finding the ball of the yellow.  She sat cross-legged on her table and prepared to weave the ragged edges of the fabric back together.  Why had she worn this today?  

Because you felt pretty.  The Bounty Hunter made you feel pretty … even desirable.  

Had he?   

She thought back to the night before, when he had kept her pinned and unable to escape against the post, pressing his body firmly against hers, into hers, which had felt so good, so fulfilling, with her legs wound tightly around him, feeling his muscles ripple under her thighs … just the memory made her heart beat faster and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. And he had been willing, yes, he had been.  And yes, Frith, that part had filled her with amazement, but it was after that had touched her heart: the care with which he covered her up, the gentleness of setting her feet back down to the floor, even just the simple act of asking if she were all right.  Those kinds of moments, she didn’t know those could exist.  Oh, what must he think of her?  That she asked him to stay with her that first day?  She hadn’t even been thinking about the Dahls rising to mate soon, she had only been thinking that she was so lonely, and how captivated she was by the little child and the strange, frightening man that had come looking for her.  

Looking for her.  

She had worth.  

Marathel pushed the why of her worth out of her head, at least for now, choosing to remember the sight of the Bounty Hunter running to the chook pen because she had called for him.  And then, him calling for her.  Using her name.  Calling her by her name for the first time.  The sound of his voice coming from his helmet, saying her name.  Marathel bent down to repair her gown with a better heart.  

Marathel was almost finished with her sewing when she noticed the Bounty Hunter and the child returning to the hut.  Frowning, she realized that they had been gone for quite some time.  She watched them approach, Grogu on his father’s hip.  She bent back down to her task and waited.  

Din could see her as they got closer.  It had taken a while to walk to their destination, but he had hoped that the time apart had calmed her temper a bit … not that her temper wasn’t justified.   He also hoped that what they brought back for her would please her.  Marathel sat on top of her table, the yellow gown in her lap, a needle flashing in her hand.  She was now wearing clothing the color of dead grass, which did her coloring no favors, he thought.  The yellow and charcoal combination had been so striking against her fair skin.    

He and Grogu had made it to her steps.  Marathel took a quick glance over and looked back to her dress.  Din set Grogu down on the floor, and then bent down to whisper in the boy’s ear, “Now, just like I told you, okay?  Go ahead.”  He gave Grogu a little push on his back.  Grogu toddled silently all the way over to the table, while Din removed his blasters and jet pack.  Louder, he said, “Um … Grogu has something to tell you.”  

Marathel looked up at Din, and then down to Grogu, noticing that he had clambered up on the bench, and was holding a few stems of yellow cup-shaped flowers, which he held out to her.  Marathel knew that Grogu had no way of knowing that not only were these her favorite flowers, but they were the very kind that she used to dye the yarn for her yellow gown.  Smiling, Marathel reached down and lifted Grogu up to the tabletop.  “And what does Grogu have to say?”  

Din walked over to her and stood rather like a boy who was in trouble, with one arm behind his back.  Rocking back on his heels, he said, “Grogu says that he is sorry that he ate the eggs.  He also says that he is sorry he put you in a tree.  He promises that he will obey you if you need to scold him, and … he also promises not to move people unless they’re in danger or if they’re a danger to someone else.”  Marathel watched Grogu’s face during this little declaration, and she didn’t think that the boy could make his eyes any larger or any more winsome as he held out the flowers to her.  

Marathel took the flowers.  “Grogu, I accept your apology.  Thank you.  And I am sorry that I was so cross.  Thank you for the beautiful flowers.”  She leaned forward to give him a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead, and then gave him a cuddle.  Happy again, Grogu climbed into her lap into the pile of yellow fabric.    

Din moved around the table, seeking out a tall clay cup from the kitchen counter, filling it with water.  He took the flowers from her and placed them in the cup.  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”  Marathel looked up at him.  “I’m sorry for laughing, and … I’m sorry your dress was torn.  I hope it can be repaired.”  

Marathel smiled and dropped her gaze back to her dress.  “I suppose I was quite a sight, treed like a crazed dycwingen.”  

“Yeah, you were.”  Din gently picked Grogu up off the yellow dress, walking back to the steps.  Marathel turned to the counter to look at the flowers, and then noticed three perfectly ripe gorugellys standing there.    

A gift.  He brought me a gift.  She looked out to where the Bounty Hunter was sitting, playing with Grogu.  He didn’t turn his head, but Din could see her smile from across the room.  A smile as bright as the yellow dress.  

Marathel finished repairing her dress to her satisfaction.  She held it up and figured it wouldn’t be too noticeable unless someone was looking for a flaw in her fabric.  Or were staring intently at her backside, something she could do little about.  With a sigh, she got off the table, stowed her sewing gear, and put her dress and smock on to soak.  The tree pitch would come out with a little work.  As she considered what to make for dinner, she felt her hands and her shoulders tense.  The Dahls were getting active again.  She closed her eyes and did what she could only call reaching, sending out feelers from herself to the Dahls, trying to work out how many Dahls would be rising tonight, which ones, if they were her bonded Dahls.  Marathel was dismayed to learn that there would be a great many rising tonight.   Whatever should I do? she thought, dropping her face into her hands.  At that moment, all she could do was take a deep breath in, which she released in a gasp when she heard the Bounty Hunter’s voice just behind her.    

“Are you all right?”  

Putting a hand on her chest, she said, “Not when you sneak up on me, no.”  

“I have been standing there for quite a long time.”  

“Oh,” she murmured, moving down the counter, keeping her back to the Bounty Hunter.  She went to the same post as last night, leaning against it, wrapping her arms around it, her back to Din.  Just like last night.    

Din decided to keep his distance from her this time.  “Is it the Dahls again?”  

There was a long pause as Marathel pulled her hair over her shoulder, combing it with her fingers.  “Yes.”  

“Are they … rising to mate again tonight?”  

“Yes.”  She continued to stroke her hair.  “You should just take Grogu and leave.”  

Din suddenly found himself disappointed she would say such a thing … even though he had had the same thought himself.  “You said yesterday … that you had always been alone before, when the Dahls would rise.”  He paused, wondering the best way to put his question, whether he should ask it at all.  “What happens when you’re alone?”  

“I can only tell you what has happened to me before.”  She took a deep breath before continuing.  “When I first came to the hut, I could sleep through their mating.  It would be difficult for me to sleep, though.  I suppose that was before I realized what they were doing.   Diwhyn Olba had to explain it to me.”  Din watched a light pink flush grow from her neckline up to her hairline.  “She even explained … ways … I could … take care of myself.”  In a whisper, she continued, “I never found that to be helpful, though.”  Marathel paused, looking out over the rocky field.  “I have woken up, far from this hut, with no knowledge how I got there, sometimes a full day’s walk.  I have tied myself to this very post to keep me from wandering.  I simply chewed through the ropes to escape.  I have tried to use objects …” She drew her breath in sharply and it was a moment before she could continue.  “I have injured myself, sometimes badly.  Once, I came back to myself because I had thrown myself off a cliff – this was out past the tidal flats -- into the ocean below.  That was possibly the worst.  That was a time when I had over twenty bonded Dahls, and it seemed as if all the Dahls on this side of the Hold rose at the same time.”  

Din stood silently.  He had considered tying her up.  He had considered taking her to the Razor Crest and locking her in his sleeping cubicle.  He had even considered just leaving the planet altogether, leaving the bounty behind … but taking her with him.  “You said that you could hear the Dahls.  I assumed that meant just yours.  But you’re able to hear more of the Dahls than just the ones you’re bonded with?”  

“I can hear all the Dahls.”Marathel took another deep breath.  “It’s usually not a bad thing, to hear them all like that.  It’s just noisy, in my head.  Confusing, sometimes.  I know when they’re hungry, if they’ve found food, if they’ve laid a clutch of eggs. I get stronger feelings from my own bonded Dahls when those things happen.”  She chuckled.  “I feel their joy when the eggs are laid, when the kits hatch.  Those times fill my heart with happiness.  When the Dahls are mating, they are in such a frenzy that … they are so loud then.  It’s amplified, it’s all I can hear and feel.    And when one dies, especially one I’m bonded with … The pain is immeasurable.  As if a very part of me has died as well.  I’ve stopped bonding with so many because of that.  I can’t bear their deaths.  Rodanthe is the oldest of my Dahls.  She’s the last of my original Dahls from the Hold.  When she dies … I don’t know what I’ll do.”  

Din could hear the tears in her throat.  In that moment, he wanted nothing more than for Marathel to turn around so he could see her face.  What a burden these Dahls were to her.  “If this is the case, then why would the Elders want Dahl eggs?”  

Marathel stroked her hair at a faster pace.  “They want the power of control over another living thing.  That’s all they ever want.  And … now that I fully understand what kind of power the Dahls have over me, what I will do because of them … I can see them desiring that power as well.”  She took another deep breath, and said in a rush, “Please, please, understand, that I had no knowledge of what would happen, of what I would do …”  

Din looked down to the floor.  “No, don’t say that.  It’s … it’s all right.”  

“I don’t want you to think that I lured you here, to stay with me.”  

“I don’t think that.”  

“Then,” Marathel said, wiping the tears from under her eyes, “you should take Grogu and stay on your flying ship.  Stay away from me.  Leave me here.  When the eggs are ready in a couple of days, I will bring them to you, and you can take me to receive your reward.”  She sighed, leaning her temple against the post.  “That’s the best thing for you to do.”  

Yes, that would be the sensible thing, Din thought.  But the idea that she could do herself a grievous harm, perhaps even accidentally kill herself while under the control of the Dahls, upset him greatly, and not because of the potential loss of the largest bounty he would probably ever receive.  “Will it be bad tonight?”  

She swallowed.  “Yes, I think so.”  

“Are there a lot of Dahls rising?”  

“Hundreds,” she whispered.  

“Then I will stay here with you.”  

Marathel's head snapped up straight, but she continued to keep her back to the Bounty Hunter.  “Why in the name of Frith would you do such a thing?”  

Din stepped closer to her, standing just behind her shoulder, mere inches separating her back from his front.  “I will tell you … if you tell me who this Frith is that you call on so often.”  

Marathel stammered, “Wh . . . Frith is the name of the Luad Dycwingen.  He can see us all the time, being up in the moon like that.  We were told as children that if we misbehaved, Frith would tell the Diwhyns on us.  We also blamed Frith for things that happened in the Hold, like carrots growing where the onions should be.  Or if a boy’s shoes went missing.”  

“Or … loaves of bread going missing from the kitchen?”  Din asked, trying to bring a touch of levity to this conversation.  

“Yes, just so.  Missing loaves of bread.  Frith must be in my kitchen.”  Marathel dropped her head.  “Now, back to my question, Bounty Hunter.  Why would you stay here with me, knowing what will happen tonight?  Knowing what I will do?”  

Din reached over her shoulder, taking her hair away from her nervous hands.  He gently stroked it with his gloved fingers, fanning it out over her shoulders like a cloak of molten silver.  His gloved hands remained lightly touching her shoulders.  “Because I want to.”

Marathel stood stock still for a very long time.  Din felt her shoulders rise and fall with each breath.  Both remained lost in their mutual embarrassment, their mutual dread, their mutual anticipation.  Frith and the Maker alone knew how long they would have stayed in this moment, which was finally broken by Grogu, who wrapped his little arms around Marathel’s ankle again.  “Patu?”  

Marathel lifted her foot, letting a giggling Grogu hang from it.  “No, me not Patu, you silly gochgoch.  Me Marathel.  You Grogu.  You probably very hungry Grogu.”  She lifted her leg higher, bouncing Grogu up and down, making him squeal.  Marathel tilted her head towards the Bounty Hunter.  “Now, if your Patu would peel you off my leg, I can make you something to eat.  Probably eggs.  I have an exceptional amount of eggs.”  

Grogu did not want to let go of Marathel, of course, since he was having too much fun bouncing up and down, so it took Din taking hold of her leg and physically unwrapping Grogu’s arms to try to make him let go.  Marathel started laughing so hard that she fell to the floor, Din dragging her a couple of feet as he tried to get Grogu to release her ankle.  Din threw up his hands in disgust.  “Haar’chak, kid, let go of her."  Grogu blew a raspberry as he swung back and forth.  

Marathel’s laughter subsided to giggles.  “Grogu.  Grogu.”  Her voice changed to that of a stern parent, and Grogu looked down at her.  “Let go now, child.  I have things to do.  Go play with your Patu.”  Grogu immediately dropped to the floor.  Marathel sat up and kissed his ear.  “Thank you, love.  Go on now.”  Grogu immediately complied, toddling back to the front of the hut.  

Din watched him go, and then held out a hand to help Marathel up.  “I need to learn that tone of voice.”  

Marathel took his hand and let herself be pulled up to a standing position.  She shrugged.  “It only works if there are no trees to put you into.”

For dinner, she swirled the blended eggs into a boiling broth, filling out the soup with finely chopped vegetables and sliced fish cake, and then floating fluffy dumplings on top.  Grogu, of course, ate more than Marathel ever thought a little body like his could hold.  “Where does he put it?” she asked Din, who simply shrugged and led the boy out into the yard.  He sat down with Grogu and produced the little round gear knob from the Razor Crest.  He spent the next couple of hours encouraging Grogu to use the Force to move the ball, to toss it into the air, to raise it and the surrounding rocks higher and higher around him.  

Marathel sat on the steps, watching.  As the shadows deepened in the yard, Din could tell that she was getting more and more agitated.  If he had passed her on the street on any other planet, he would have assumed that she was a spice addict in withdrawal: her hands shook, her head bobbed up and down, her toes curled and uncurled over the edge of the step.  Grogu bleated for Din’s attention.  He looked over and just managed to catch the gear knob before it smacked him in the helmet.  Grogu looked quite grumpy.  “I know, kid, but I am purposely trying to wear you out.” Din tossed the gear knob straight up for Grogu to catch in the air, making it hover about a meter above his head.  “I need you to sleep like a rock tonight.  It’s … it’s going to get weird around here.”  He turned to look at Marathel again.  She was gone from the steps.  He looked past the hut, and finally saw her walking through the stream.  He watched her until he felt the clonk of Grogu throwing the gear knob against his helmet.  “Sorry, buddy.  I’m paying attention now.  Show me again?”  Grogu harrumphed, but obediently raised the gear knob again, along with several stones and a large roly-poly bug, making them all swirl around each other in a complicated pattern.  Din leaned back on his hands and watched. “Good job, kid.”  

“I think I could watch that all day.”  Din turned to see Marathel standing in the stream that coursed along the edge of the yard.  Her hands were clamped hard on her arms, her knuckles white.  “It’s mesmerizing.”  

Grogu gave a little whimper and set everything down on the ground.  Din took the gear knob and put it back in his pocket.  “He’s not strong enough to do this for too long. It makes him very tired.  But he’s getting much better at controlling his Force powers.”  Grogu sighed, looking exhausted.  Marathel came over and picked him up, cuddling him in her arms.  Even though she was shaking, her lip trembling, she remained focused on the boy as she began to softly rock him, humming a quiet tune.  Grogu closed his eyes and snuggled against her.  Marathel continued humming and swayed as she hummed, turning in slow circles, stroking Grogu’s ear.  Din watched as the waning sunlight reflected on her hair.  Her features were so soft, her eyes closed, her lips tilted in a small smile as she continued to hum.  If he had thought she would make a good wife before, he knew now that she would be a superb mother.  She was so good to his kid.  She was probably good to all the children of the Hold too, before she left, even though she was a child at the time herself.  She would raise good children.    

She could raise warriors.  

He stood up and moved to take Grogu from her.  She flinched away.  “He’s all right, Bounty Hunter, I’d never hurt him.”  

He held up his hand.  “I know that.”  

Her eyes filled with tears, and her hands trembled.  “I’d tear my heart out for him.”  

“I know, Marathel.”  

The tears spilled over.  “Then please … let me hold him a little longer.”  In response, he put his arm around her and held her close.  He put his other hand over hers, the hand that was supporting Grogu’s head, intertwining their fingers together.  They stood that way, Din stroking her hair, their hands linked together on Grogu, until it became full dark.   Together, they stepped up into her hut and laid the sleeping boy in his pram.  Marathel gave him goodnight kisses and Din whispered quietly in the boy’s ear before closing the lid securely.  They stepped back and away from each other.  

Din shifted his weight to one hip in that way he had.  “So … now what?”  

“Oh, your guess is as good as mine.”  Marathel, already breathing hard, put her face in her shaking hands.  “There’s never been so many rising at the same time.  My heart is already racing.  And it’s so hot.  Aren’t you hot?  I’m so hot.”  She turned away and went behind her curtains.  Din turned his back, but he could hear her clothes sliding against her skin as she stripped them off.  He took a deep breath himself, listening to her moving about behind the curtains.  Haar’chak, he was already aroused with just the thought of her.  Oh, he had a bad feeling about this.  He felt as nervous as a first-timer at a brothel.  No, scratch that, he was as nervous as a first-timer sex worker at a brothel; that was a more appropriate feeling for his situation.  He heard her step down from the platform, then a splash.  He could just see Marathel in the darkness, wearing her thin nightgown, walking quickly away from the hut through the stream as she held her hair on top of her head.  She disappeared into the tall grass.  Din stood still.  She would come back, right?  Yes, of course she would.  He was here.  She would come back for him.  He was her prey tonight.  

How does one prepare to be prey? he wondered.  What the shab should he do while waiting for her to come back? Anxious to be doing something, he found the lantern and shook it.  The lantern gave off its pale glow.  He carefully moved Grogu’s pram until it was tucked against her loom, fully out of the way.  Out of the way of what, he was unsure, but out of the way was good.  He looked out over the landscape with his thermal vision.  She was out there in the tall grass.  He watched her pace back and forth, continually turning back to look down into the valley where the Dahls were.  The Dahls were very loud now with their yip-yehs and occasional keening wails, piercing enough to make him wince. If the noise was almost unbearable to him, how must it be for her?   Then he saw her turn in his direction.  The Dahls quieted.  He watched her breathe, chest heaving.  Her heat signature was much higher than a humans should be.  She took several steps towards him.  He instinctively took one step back despite the fact she was a couple hundred meters away.  There was a sudden shrieking howl of several Dahls at once, and Marathel clapped her hands over her ears, emitting a howl herself, and dashed away down into the rocky valley, out of view. 

Din didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he let it out in a rush.  He was relieved for a respite.  Being this far out of control was anathema to him.  He had been relaxing the limits of his comfort zone ever since he met his ad’ika, but this half-crazed woman possessed by freaky dog-lizard-cat things was really pushing it.  He tried to take some deep breaths, but it seemed to do no good.  He became aware that he felt warm, almost feverish, when just a few moments ago he was quite comfortable, temperature-wise.  Now he felt as if he was in the Dune Sea in high summer at midday. 

Osik, why was it so hot?  

He pulled off his heavy cape and undid the cowl at his throat. The night air was cool and refreshing, but now his armor was so damn heavy.  He stripped his gloves off his sweating hands and dropped his cuirass and cuisses to the floor.  Still too damn hot.    He jerked open his jacket, pulled out his arms, and stripped his thermal shirt off, relishing the cool air on his bare chest, on the throbbing bite mark.  He pulled his jacket back on, only halfway fastening it back together, and swept his discarded cape and armor out of the way, still not sure what out of the way meant, and put his hands on the edge of his helmet.  Here, he stopped, closed his eyes, and struggled for self-control.  No. The helmet stays on, the helmet stays on.  He took a deep breath and dropped his hands to his sides.   Feeling better, he sat on the steps to wait for Marathel to return, as the yip-yehs began again. 

She finally reappeared on his thermal vision, walking back into the tall grass.  He watched her stop and raise her head, appearing to look directly at him.  She began walking again, this time back towards the hut, walking with great purpose, much like her angry marching earlier today. Was that really just today? he thought idly, not quite noticing that she was moving faster and faster until he realized she was running at a full tilt straight for him. 

He had just enough time to half-stand, thinking oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff as she reached the hut and leapt at him, planting her knee in his chest and laying him flat out on his back.  His breath was knocked out of him, but he was still able to make an automatic defensive move as he used her own momentum to flip her over, and she rolled hard against one of the benches, ripping her nightgown from hem to waist. She grunted in surprise and pain, and got up into a crouch, snarling at him. Din turned to her and got to one knee as she leapt at him again.  He jumped up and grabbed her by the wrists before she could get to him.  She cried out in dismay, stretching up on to her toes, trying to break free.  Din swept his leg under her feet, knocking her to the floor.  He held her down, his knee in her gut, holding her wrists as she struggled. His knee slid on her nightgown, and she managed to slide out from under his knee, trying to twist herself free of his grasp, getting one foot under herself before he swept his leg again, knocking her back down to the floor.  This time he pinned her down under his full weight, grabbing her nightgown and ripping it free from her shoulders before pinioning her wrists to the floor with his large hands.  She shrieked with fury.  She raised her head, baring her teeth, seething, snarling, spitting at him as she struggled beneath him.  Her eyes were completely dark, her face was flushed red, her breasts were heaving, she had bitten her lip at some point in the struggle and there was blood in her mouth.   

Osik, she was so beautiful.   

He had to take her right there or die trying, he thought, and he let go of one wrist to open his breeches.  She immediately sprang into action, using the leverage of her free arm to get a leg loose from under him, trying to flip him over off her.  But he had about fifteen kilos on her, and her advantage was short-lived as he simply rolled her right back over and slammed her flat on the floor, holding her wrists tightly over her head again.  Crazy bitch! He shouted in his head, or he might have said it out loud, he was beyond rational thought beyond wanting to fuck this pretty piece of flesh, fuck her right into the floor, to fuck her right until she split in two.  But she kept fighting, wailing, tears streaming down her temples.   

Haar’chak, this was what she wanted! 

Wasn’t it? 

She took a deep breath and with all the force she could muster, she got one leg out from under him, twisted it around his leg, and with a strength he didn’t know she had, flipped him over, planting her knees on his hips, slamming his hands to the floor, screaming into his face like a wild animal.  He pedaled with his feet, trying to slip out from under her, actually getting about halfway free before she forced him down again, this time setting her weight down heavily on his crotch, breathing hard, snarling. 

Now he understood.  She needed to dominate him. She needed to take him.  She needed him to be terrified of her. 

Well, I’m scared shitless, so one out of three so far, he thought, panting.  He looked to his left and saw that they were actually fairly close to his bed tick.  If he was going to be fucked to death by a crazy Dahl-woman, he wanted to be comfortable.  His brain was so fevered at that moment that he actually started laughing.  She shifted her weight backwards, confusion crossing her face, allowing him enough freedom to backpedal more with his feet, dragging her with him into his curtained cubicle.  She fell off her knees and ended up stretched out fully against his body, gripping his hands, both breathing hard in point/counterpoint. He let go of her hands, laid back, and stretched out, to let her do what she would.  Surprised, she scooted back until she was sitting on his legs.  She snarled again, her hands gripping his thighs, squeezing, daring him to defy her.  He gave her no struggle.  She knee-walked up his body, sitting on his chest, pushing his shoulders down to the sleeping tick.  Again, he did not struggle.  She made her way back down his body, scrabbling at his jacket and laying it open, dragging what was left of her fingernails down his ribs and belly to his waistband.  Here she tried to pull at his breeches, but they were secured by his belt buckle; he had to quickly get that loose for her but immediately laid back down in his supplicating pose.  He felt her forcefully drag his breeches and under thermals down, which hooked briefly on his erection on their way down to his knees.  He closed his eyes, because he was scared of her, oh yes, he was terrified, the only words he could manage in his fevered mind were please don’t bite me over and over.

He felt her warm breath on his thighs, on his crotch, and he began to whisper please don’t bite me when he felt her soft cheek stroke his erect penis from base to tip.  His eyes opened and he gasped; it was the most exotic feeling he’d ever had, and he felt her face move to the other side, and he felt her eyelashes against the side of his shaft as she stroked her face against him, the feathery touch driving him mad.  She nuzzled her nose into his pubic hair and then she stretched out her neck to stroke him again, up one side and down the other as she breathed deep, her exhalation soft and warm on his skin.  Oh, he sighed, she was getting his scent, marking him with her scent, taking possession of him.  She dragged her breasts up his thighs, her nipples tracking on his skin, bringing out goosebumps on his legs, softly rubbing her body up his cock, squeezing her upper arms together to capture him between her breasts, and she moved up and down there several times, his precum seeping from his tip as he marked her with his fluid down her breastbone. As she moved her breasts down his cock one last time, she dropped her chin and took the whole of him into her mouth, causing him to groan.  But she did not close her lips, she did not use her tongue on him, all she did was breathe, just like the Dahl did with his hand, breathing in his intimate scent, tasting it with her inhalation, exhaling against him like a hot summer wind.  She removed her mouth just before he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from moving, lightly grazing her teeth on him, and he whimpered.  She moved back up his body, smelling him, softly rubbing her face against him as she moved, brushing against his erection with every motion she made, and he could not help it any longer, he arched his back to thrust at her, at any part of her he could reach, he was so desperate to be taken by her.  But she would continue to deny him as she leaned forward on her knees, nuzzled his chest, working her way up to what she could of his neck, not trying to remove his helmet but holding her face just under the lip of it, breathing softly into his helmet, taking his exhales into her mouth, her erect nipples dragging on his chest, her hands sliding down his arms to hold them down when all he wanted to do was take hold of her, and he murmured, “Please Marathel, please Marathel, please,” as she completely dominated him, laying mostly naked and exposed on his back on a planet beyond the edge of nowhere, pleading, promising to kill for her, promising to die for her, promising to set the universe on fire for her if she would just please, please take him now. 

 

She settled back on her heels, tilted her hips, and took him fully within her in one smooth stroke as she quietly inhaled and softly exhaled.  

He, suddenly enveloped in her sweet hot wetness, died for a full second, and then was revived as she moved her hips in rhythm, slowly, so slowly, too slowly, thinking that he would die for real this time as a sob escaped him and tears slid down his temples.  He bucked at her, desperate for more than what she was willing to give, when she dropped her dark eyes to his helmet and snarled, and she slapped the palm of her hand sharply on his bite wound and pressed hard.  He cried out with the pain, and this must have excited her, for she moved a little faster on him, and he grabbed at her hand on his bite wound, which she slapped away with a hiss.  She rocked faster, throwing her head back far enough that he felt her hair brushing against his legs, and her hair wasn’t soft at all, but was coarse like the mane of a running beast, like sheaths of dried summer grass, and her hands clutched at his ribs and her thighs squeezed him tightly as she began to climax.  He lifted his hands and slid them up her legs to her hips as she bucked against him, his thumbs pressing into her soft round belly, his fingers clasping at her hipbones hard enough to leave marks on her supple flesh. He arched his back, flexing his hips upward, balancing on his heels, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly could, losing all conscious thought as he whimpered “Mara … Marathel … my mesh’la …" as she cried out with her own orgasm, collapsing down towards his chest, thighs trembling, her hair falling over his visor, her hips still pulsing against his as he drew his knees up, thrusting his pelvis against hers, clutching her tightly to his chest as he finally came, grunting, tangling his fingers into her hair, sobbing her name, “Marathel … Marathel … my mesh’la Marathel …"  And then he laughed as she gasped against his shoulder.  She pushed up just enough to look into the visor of his helmet, and she was Marathel again, with her silver hair all in disarray, tears leaking from her silver eyes, lip trembling as she reached up and placed her hand on the helmet where his cheek would be. He laid his hand over hers as they breathed in time together.  Then her eyes fluttered closed as she collapsed on his chest.  He felt every muscle in her body release their tension as she melted off him to the bed tick, rolled to her back beside him, and threw her arms up above her head, unconscious.  

Oh, Marathel, he thought.  You are the Queen of the Universe.  

He gazed at Marathel's still face for a long time. He got up to one elbow and watched her slow breathing, a lock of hair lifting and falling on her collarbone with each breath.  His eyes skated down her naked body, her round breasts, just nicely proportioned to fit in his hand if he so dared, her middle softly curved with a slightly rounded belly, a little extra flesh at her hips, her long legs, one stretched out straight, the other bent at the knee with her toes touching her calf, legs that were heavy but were so much more muscular than they looked, legs that could break a tree in half, strong rounded calves with finely turned ankles.  He sat up on his hip and reached with his bare hand, thinking, forgive me, Marathel, but I must have this memory of your skin as he lightly skated his hand over her flesh starting at her ankle, moving up her leg.  She stirred slightly at his touch but did not wake.  He stroked her gently, passing over the already-forming bruises that he had given her in their struggle tonight, flinching that he had injured her so, but continued his hand up her bent leg onto her inner thigh when he felt a patch of puckered skin near the apex of her legs.  His hand stopped.  Her skin until now had been as smooth as liquid beskar, but this texture was different, like scar tissue.  Curious, he bent down to look closely at the place on her inner thigh that he had found, thinking maybe a very old injury, perhaps a birthmark.  He turned on the light on his helmet, blocking it as much as he could so as not to wake her.  Focusing the beam on her leg – and the lovely silver thatch of hair next to it – he could see that the puckered area of skin was not a birthmark at all, but the remnants of a brand.  The brand was latticed, stretched, signifying to him that she must have received this mark as … a very, very, young child.  He turned off his beam immediately, but the mark was already burned into his retinas. It was square – or had been at one time – with an arrow-head shape in the middle, but it was so hard to read, as old as the mark must have been.    

Someone had held her down, opened her legs – a little girl’s legs – and held a brand to her delicate child’s skin, burning it to leave this mark.  

He'd heard screams of children before, many times.  Too many times to count.  He felt physically ill as he thought of her screaming as a tiny child, probably even younger than he when his parents had been killed before his eyes.  A little girl, tortured by the very adults who were supposed to have protected her.  Was Diwhyn Olba there?  Did Diwhyn Olba have to hold her down?  Did Diwhyn Olba tend to her wounds while little Marathel screamed in pain?  

Din rolled away from Marathel and stood up, closing his jacket, pulling his pants back up, ashamed to have exposed himself to her, who suffered as a little girl at the hands of men.  She must have sensed his movement; she rolled to her side, curling up with her hands in front of her face, curling up like a child.  He grabbed one of the blankets she had given him and unfolded it, gently tucking it around her, covering her, wishing in some way to protect the child Marathel from the unnamed unknown evils that must have taken place in that Hold.  Marathel sighed in her sleep, took hold of the blanket and pulled it over her ear as she snuggled down deep in the sleeping tick.  Din carefully lifted a wayward lock of her hair from her face and put it behind her shoulder.  He stood and then passed through the curtains to the center of her hut.  He sighed.  The room showed no signs of their earlier struggle, other than the pile of his cape and removed armor, and the bench at the table slightly askew from when she crashed into it.  Din picked up his discarded clothing and armor, quietly saying the proper old incantation for each piece as he replaced them on his body, ending with the words this is the way as he straightened his helmet.  Feeling stronger in his soul with the remembrance of his Creed, he sat down against the post closest to where Marathel slept, vowing to protect her until the hunt was finished.  Crossing his feet at his ankles, he stared at the stars above him until he dozed off.   

 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 60 - indoors fashion in 1924

I’ll very quickly go over Miss Bunting’s blouses so I can put her in a drawer and never again think about how poorly written her character was. And then it’s thankfully over to Rose who has some interesting fashion developments this season.

This dark blue wrap dress is actually quite nice. One of the upsides of middle-class characters, for how lousy Fellowes writes them, is that I occasionally see things that I can imagine wearing myself. Diagonal pin tucks over the sides give this a little more shape than is common in the 1920s; overall a pretty look.

Shaping goes right out the window with this one, but I suppose it’s a respectable look for a teacher. Point collar, very pale blue, very simple jewelry – it does hold a bit of my interest with the double row of buttons.

Look, the gathering seam in the shoulder is back! As are pointed collars and keyhole necklines, but I think that the checker weave of this fabric is nice. I don’t think Miss Bunting should wear such a showy shade of lipstick to a pale peach blouse though.

--------------

Rose, my darling. This is a pretty crochet shirt that seems to emulate a blue sky with white clouds, and I love the flaring sleeves. So why on earth did someone tack this stupid strip of white fuzz to it? I know you have better taste than this. Just take that bit off, and you’re good.

Speaking of nice crocheted clothes, this one has pretty much the same shape, but it fortunately goes without dissonant cotton fuzz. The peach color is a Rose staple by now, and the crochet is a bit simpler in terms of pattern and structure, so this doesn’t look cluttered when Rose pairs it with that nice light brown Tartan skirt.

Developing a taste for non-woven textiles, isn’t she? I like this sweater in all its simplicity; the square neckline is elegant, the blue stripes on the shoulders add a little interest, and the silverish yarn is a pretty color and a good backdrop for playful necklaces.

Marching up in the palest blue silk satin, Rose gives us this look. And I’m in love with the print on this dress. Good job of the designer to not add anything more to this than the tiniest dark blue piping around the neckline because this print deserves to stand on its own.

This may be one of the dresses of the show that reads the most stereotypically 1920s to the modern eye. Not only is it absolutely covered in bronze-golden sequins that give it a sort of scaly look; it’s got fringe. It’s still got the right length and cut, which is a relief. Can you imagine how out of place one of those tight mini “flapper” dresses that you can buy for cheap on amazon would have looked? Not all clichés are bad though: I love the fringe. And I love the little spiral flower motif in this wild sequin pattern.

Rose dips her toes into some dark blue silk satin this season, and this is my favorite result of them, even though the neckline construction leaves me hopelessly confounded. What does even connect where? Is that a symmetrical keyhole neckline and then over that an asymmetrical tie, shutting a looser layer over a fitted top? I don’t understand this dress, but I like to look at it. The tiny white star flowers on dark ground are so charming!

Time for some pale pink because Rose has a rosy reputation to maintain. This sweater, another knit piece, has your usual loose shape and drop waist, but the tie collar is quite nice. It’s framing a literal rose pendant because subtlety, you guys, and Rose rounds off the outfit with a repeat of her light brown Tartan skirt.

The tie collar stays, the pink has to go so we can wave dark blue silk satin back in. If I interpret this print right, it’s referencing cherry blossoms and elements of Japanese architecture. The design is far less intricate than the last blue satin Rose welcomed into her wardrobe, but it dresses her quite nicely.

Heh, even when it’s not roses, Rose is a girl for flower prints. I do quite like her poppy flower chiffon dress, but it looks a tad lightweight for working in drafty basement rooms during an English autumn, as Rose seems to do during her charity project for Russian refugees; at least the neckline and sleeves don’t seem to betray a warmer layer underneath.

Yet more flowers! Tulips this time, and while I do love tulips with a passion, I’m not sure I love this dress. It’s admittedly adorable. I think it’s a touch too adorable. I would not have batted an eye to see this on season 3 Rose with her frilly skirts, but by now she’s a good end more mature – and engaged to be married. I don’t know; this lace collar with the little light blue bow reads a little too girly for her now.

Did Rose steal a dress from Edith’s wardrobe? Indigo chiffon with a notable orange print? Even the pattern stripe on her collar looks a lot like the sort of prints Edith prefers this season. But nah, she stole this from 1997’s Rebecca. Oh well, it’s not like Rose hasn’t proven already that she can carry off dark blue shades, and the autumn leaves motif is pretty sweet.

The lace layer makes this one look a lot browner than it is; the basic fabric is one of her usual peachy pinks… oh, for heaven’s sake, is that another rose motif? They really can’t come up with anything new, can they? As usual, the drop waistband just being there for the heck of it instead of making a sack of the top is a grace for the dress. Looks quite pretty overall.

Here we have a dress that we first see Rose wear a day or two before her wedding, but that I find more interesting in the context of her wearing it as a newlywed while her parents-in-law are hosting. Because Lady Sinderby, her mother-in-law, is almost constantly running around in light chiffon dresses with very rich flower prints. Not that flower prints are a new thing for Rose, but specifically the way these pastel colors wash up into each other looks much like the dress Lady Sinderby is wearing for the same occasion, so I find that concordance interesting. Granted, Lady Sinderby doesn’t have this adorable flower-embroidered headband.

Ending on another dress Rose wears in her new life as Mrs Aldridge, this one is a favorite. Off-white and very lacey again, but it’s using the lace so much more elegantly than the girlish dress further up does; strips of it being inserted into the length of the dress and the drop waist, framing the square neckline, and giving the dress a wonderfully weightless, frothy look. And a bit of well-placed flower embroidery? Sign me up!

[giant-tiny-fiber-friends]

Knitting in G/T

Let's get started with a classic!

(This is a continuation of a conversation that began here, for context)

I'm intending for this to be partly an informative post, as well as a conversation starter in case anyone had ideas or questions regarding the topic. As part of the g/t writing community, I know how handy it can be to have resources for niche topics, so hopefully this can help or inspire someone! I'm going to talk about knitting in existing g/t media, some of the possibilities I can think of as far as knitting for giants and tinies go, and some examples of what gives me real life g/t vibes in knitting.

Knitting, for clarity, is the art of turning yarn into fabric using a pair of needles. It seems like one of those crafts that people have plenty of ideas about with tinies, but doesn't so readily come up with giants. Maybe we'll fix that here, we'll see!

In Media

I've noticed this has mostly been explored from the tiny side of things, at least in established media. Now's the part where I admit that I do not have a comprehensive understanding and grasp of g/t media, so if there are further examples of this that exist, I'd love to hear about them! For now, the most immediate examples I can think of is The Borrowers, both in the book and one of the film adaptations.

The first is featured in one of the original covers of the original book, a colorized version of an illustration that shows Homily knitting on a pair of pins.

The text describes her as "knitt(ing) their jerseys and stockings on black headed pins, and, sometimes, on darning needles (...)" and goes on to describe her using spools of silk or cotton thread to do so. This is doable, especially since both thread and pins can vary in thicknesses, which can affect the way the fabric created behaves. One would simply need to find or make pins that were more dull, because those things can get Sharp!

Darning needles, which are slightly bigger than what you'd think of as sewing needles but still pretty thin, are a little thicker and I would think would be used with something a bit more substantial than thread. I'll get into this more in depth when I get around to talking about spinning, but yarn can be spun pretty finely, and tinies could easily be resourceful enough to manage to get it to a usable size, no matter the needles used.

As an aside, the BBC's 1992 iteration of The Borrowers quietly goes into more detail about this side of their existence. It ran for two seasons, covering most of the books up til "The Borrowers Aloft", I believe. The whole thing can bee found on YouTube, and someone recently posted an HD remaster!

Homily's knitting crops up throughout the first arc as not only a tool for keeping her family warm, but as a way for her to cope with her anxiety. She quickly picks up her knitting (from a small ball of wool she seems to have wound herself rather than from a spool, which is much more mobile) after an argument with Arrietty, and while she waits for Pod to come home from late-night borrowing.

Then, after they flee the cottage, they collect wild wool (seen above) from the brambles to use as insulation, and I believe the implication is that it's later spun into yarn for Homily to use to make Arrietty a sweater/jumper and herself a cardigan, shown in this short clip:

Seriously, if you haven't seen this adaptation, I highly recommend! Lookit Homily getting to be a bit of a badass for once!

The Potential

Knitting like this is plausible in g/t spheres, in my opinion. A lot of modern knitting has grown to lean away from separate straight needles like the pins would facsimile, choosing circular needles instead. Basically it's a few inches of solid needle attached to a flexible cord that more easily allows a knitter to work in a continuous tube (like hats), but they can be used to make flat things (like scarves) as well.

Even if an article is made of tubes- hats, sweaters, and even socks- they can still be made flat and seamed together. So if all a tiny has access to are a pair of pins, or if all a giant can do is carve and polish some wood into straight needles, it's a perfectly valid way to go about things. I'm not going to put a limit on the innovations of big or small folk to be able to come up with workarounds if they truly wanted to make a circular needle equivalent, though. Maybe a tiny could use a sturdy yet flexible bit of wire with the tips worn down to a taper, or a giant could MacGyver something with literal cabling, who knows? I'm all for hearing other ideas!

Real Life G/t Vibes

Most Vibes I get from knitting are from things made with really thick or thin yarn. Big, chunky yarn reminds me of how even the thinnest of yarn would probably still be quite lofty to a tiny. To me, it gives the feeling of having found doll's clothing and using it to keep warm!

The Harper Jacket by Ciadree via Ravelry.com

And I know it's not really useful to a hypothetical giant, but knitting tiny things does give one the feeling of being big. I'm often reminded of Althea Crome, the self-proclaimed micro-knitter who made the knits in the movie Coraline and has a whole gallery of miniature knitted art!

Mixing different weight (sizes) and colors of yarn also gives me very homemade, using what you have on hand even if it doesn't match kinda vibes, which I find fitting for both giants and tinies. They (most likely) don't have textile shops where they can get all matching bits. Or maybe they do, and that's valid, too! I'll get into more detail about that when I talk about scraps and stash eventually, but I think this post has gotten quite long enough.

If you have any more ideas or questions about this topic, and especially if you have more examples in existing g/t media that I don't know of or forgot about when writing this, please do keep the conversation going!

[guardevoir]

Fiber arts update:

Warped the loom for a second, simple scarf for practice purposes: (the camera is lying to you btw, the blue is actually really vibrant)

I'm figuring out several things here: Firstly, just plain horizontal stripes are boring. Secondly, my shuttle is a mess because I didn't pay attention to the direction colors would be coming off of it again. Made it work, but notes taken for next time. Thirdly, I've found SO many fun and spicy new ways to utterly fuck up my warp tension! I am studying those fuck-ups like particularly odd bugs. Fourthly, there are ALSO so many interesting ways to fuck up your selvedges! The same thing applies. Fifthly, despite all the ????? I've got going on, I adore doing this nonsense and I can't wait to have my wheel free so I can spin for weaving.

Then, spindles! Still working on the alpaca/merino stuff on the big spindle, and having an excellent time with it, even if alpaca is fuzzy bullshit. I like the way this spindle spins; the slowness of it takes some getting used to, but the more rim-weighted distribution of the weight here is just so forgiving and chill compared to my regular bottom-whorl spindle. You have to fuck up SO badly to drop this one by comparison, too.

Then, the viscose nonsense is also progressing well: Worked on it on the train a lot a couple days ago, because that's something you can actually do with a spindle that small - less space being taken up by the spindle shaft means more space for yarn, even while sitting. Pretty neat!

And on my regular spindle, I've got Merino/silk now! 'Tis the season for not having a single easy, straightforward fiber on a drop spindle, apparently.

Didn't get too much done on it yet, mostly because this one's harder to use while sitting than the Turkish ones and I haven't done a lot of standing around lately.

And on the wheel, I still have the royal blue Merino I'm working on. Also not a huge amount of progress there because I've been out and about quite a bit (also, new shiny loom), but I'm slowly chipping away at it every day!

And on a Temperature Project note: Still haven't made a decision; I'm just tracking temperatures for now while I figure out what I want to do.

I'm also currently looking at blending boards so I can get more creative with my yarns, but idk whether to go for 19cm or 40cm width, and whether I want a prebuilt one or trust myself to find a good cutting board and handle a staple gun.

[freshstitches]

This is not a hotdog 🌭 🧶 It's 2 of my favorite winter accessories.

They're both worked in a combination of stockinette stitch and ribbing. And you can see in two color examples that the stockinette is a single strand. When you transition to the ribbing section, a second strand of yarn is added and the needle size goes up. There's so much potential for different color combinations.

The Hat is pretty straightforward. The brim is essentially a hem. It's warm enough to wear folded down or if you need extra warmth you can fold it up and have triple thick protection against the wind.  It's just a nice, basic hat, and it's interesting and fun to make.

The scarf is actually much more interesting. As we get further into gift knitting season, there's less and less time to make things. The scarf is only half the length of a traditional size with a loop on one end. To wear it, pull the end through the loop to make a knot. It saves you a little bit of money on yarn and a whole lot of knitting time. 

When you're not wearing them, roll the hat up inside the scarfand flip the loop inside out. They'll stay together and compact in your bag. 

The PDF download is available on my website and on Ravelry and until Nov, 7, take 20% off all patterns, pins, books and stickers when you use the code "FoxyBday"

[letkirillfight]

15 people 15 questions

thanks for the tag @babygirlspurgeon, @masonshaws, @giveemgreef, and @babygirlboberrey

1. are you named after anyone?

I share my middle name with my mom.

2. when was the last time you cried?

A couple days ago. The last month has been a bit rough.

3. do you have kids?

No and never will.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

I played soccer when I in like elementary school and then did a season of tennis in like high school. Low-key hated doing both of them. I'm not really one for playing sports unless it's the sort of casual pick up game with friends. I much prefer to watch.

5. do you use sarcasm?

Yes, religiously.

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

I'm going to be honest I am not self aware enough to know the answer to this one. But probably their outfit if I had to guess.

7. what's your eye color?

I always say gray.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

To my endless annoyance my brain is absolutely the worst while watching scary movies, like the most obviously built up jump scare will still spook me, so happy endings I guess.

9. any talents?

Uh, I'm really good at packing? And I'm pretty good with horses? I don't know, my mind kind of blanked on anything I have ever been good at when I read this.

10. where were you born?

Michigan

11. what are your hobbies?

I am a huge nerd and also a grandmother (this is not a slight towards grandmothers). I love watching movies and binging tv shows and have an extensive dvd collection because they will tear physical media from my cold dead hands. I also love playing video games and really want to build my own desktop one of these days towards that end. I will read anything that looks half interesting and have also lost many an hour to writing whatever idea pops into my head. I crochet, can technically knit, and am learning how to spin yarn and sew beyond basic mending. I also play sudoku, solitaire (spider specifically), and do puzzles. Plus like hiking and traveling to occasionally get out of the house. Oh and hockey.

12. do you have any pets?

Nope. I grew up with a wide variety of animals but have yet to get one of my own. Someday I'm considering getting a cat or two but we'll see.

13. how tall are you?

I am 5'5".

14. favorite subject in school?

History, followed closely by English. This probably has just as much to do with my teachers as the actual subject material as those classes were really fun.

15. dream job?

None lol. I dream of financial stability not working. If I had to pick something though it would probably be something physical. I like being able to say "I made that" or something with horses. I loved working with them before. Most realistically though it wouldn't be one thing. I like the idea of being a jack of all trades type and bouncing around learning how to do a bunch of things.

tagging: @wildrangers, @eis-hockey,@kirill-kaprizovs-curls,@cecishockeyblogging, @jonassiegenthighler, @lindholmline, @carpehistoryandthepens, @stanleyoffseventh, @couthbbg, @dwisp, @devils-wild, @thecardiackids, @wehaveagathering, @flaticeball, @oetter if y'all want to do it and haven't already done so. Plus anyone else who sees this and is interested consider yourself tagged.

[craftycoola]

Happy NYE/NY everyone!

Because 'tis the season for reflection, I went through my camera roll and picked out the 9 projects from this year that I'm proudest of.

(We all know what posts from this year got the most online attention, but I think it's important to be introspective and think about what projects and posts were actually most valuable to me. Anyways. /soapbox)

Swan Song Scarf (Jasmine Lin, Crafty Coola). This is my design, and although I released it a good while ago, I'm still incredibly proud of it. I spent a lot of time sketching, charting, knitting, ripping back... it was a labor of love, but I'm proud that I stuck with it and got a result I'm happy with. Yarn: Miss Babs Yummy 2-Ply (World in a Book and Light Clematis)

Woodland Cardigan (Anna Johanna, Where We Once Knitted). This was my first time steeking, and yeah, I'm pretty gosh-darned proud of that. Yarn: Knit Picks Palette (Wonderland Heather and Calypso Heather)

Anza Dress (Kennis Wong, Itch to Stitch). This was my first time installing buttons, making (sewn) buttonholes, using interfacing (...don't judge me), and sewing scoop pockets. So many new techniques for me, but it created such a polished product and was an excellent learning opportunity. I'm so glad I took the leap with this pattern. Fabric: Singer Brand Cotton Poplin (2 yards)

Color Triangle (p: do you love the color of the sky?). This was my first time using powdered acid dye (read: Big Girl Dye instead of tie-dye/Rit/food coloring)! Obviously the whole color-formulating process for the Color of the Sky shenanigans remains in progress, but I'm proud of this triangle as it is anyways. Fiber: Knit Picks Stroll Bare, Dye: G&S Acid Dyes

Custom Intarsia Blanket. This depicts DNA replication using restriction enzymes and DNA ligase. I did this one for a custom commission, and I'm proud of myself for a) designing it, b) being so free with it, and c) getting to make something science-y! I sketched a rough plan before beginning, but I had to make an absurd amount of adjustments along the way -- in the end, I even had to duplicate stitch over the restriction enzyme bit with a half-strand (i.e. half the plies) of yarn since the stash yarn was too fine. I'm so used to planning everything and then being stubborn; this was a great exercise in adaptability and letting go.

Elderberry Dress (Shavonne Cruz, Mood Sewciety). I'm not one to do muslins or even much fitting on my sewing projects. I tend to just take patterns straight out of the envelope and then sew them, consequences be damned. This dress, though? After each wear, I've been making little adjustments to improve it; shaping the neckline and adjusting the fit, amongst other things. That's something I want to carry forward for my future projects.

Eliane Scrubs (Jalie). These aren't anything particularly special from a technical perspective, but they are possibly my most-worn me-made EVER. They've held up to weekly wear and washing and I'm proud of them for that, as well as of myself for letting my babies "do their job" instead of hiding them way out of fear. Fabric: cotton poplin

Fractal Yarn (p: swirling solar winds). I spun most of this for Tour de Fleece (which feels like a lifetime ago!) and it's a huge accomplishment for me. I'm often afraid to break down gradient braids, so doing a fractal spin was a first for me! I also got it nice and fine; a practical weight for what I usually work with. Fiber: Emily C Gillies (now House of Wool) Luck of the Draw December 2022 on Merino/Silk

Handspun Sweater (p: we pull apart the stars). Ok, so this isn't finished, but handspun sweater. I think that speaks for itself as far as why I'm proud!

[cozyhearthyarnworks]

Finished Object: Cailleach Shawl

October 31, 2019

Happy Halloween! Just in time for the spooky season, a project that has engaged most of the household for the entire summer is finished – the Cailleach Shawl. This stunning, witchy, wooly garment is knit in Cozy Hearth Yarn Works hand-dyed Rustic Worsted yarn (Dubh as the primary colorway, with a one-of-a-kind skein providing the accent edging). I dyed up the yarn early in my development work for our Dathanna series, my wife Kai and I worked on the pattern design together, and she knit the entire finished object! While Kai primarily works with Cozy Hearth Yarn Works as a fan, supporter, and frequent knitwear model, she has been working on improving her own knitting skills, and this shawl shows that improvement magnificently. Rather than blather on forever, though, I’m going to let her introduce her own work.

Kai showing off the wild chaos lace edging of the Cailleach shawl.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO MAKE THIS SHAWL?

I knew that I wanted something that was a little more witchy feeling for my wardrobe, and I also wanted a BIG warm shawl. We’d recently attended an online conference about (among other things) the Cailleach, and that gave me enough background on her lore to confirm that she would be an appropriate association to call on with the creation of the shawl.

WHO’S THE CAILLEACH? (I KNOW, BUT OTHERS MIGHT NOT!)

She is a figure in Irish and also Scottish folklore and mythology. As far as we can tell, she’s a preChristian goddess that in Irish folklore is associated with the building of great stoneworks, and also in more recent folklore has heavy associations with cunning women, shapeshifting, and general witchery.

Shawl wrapped traditionally around her shoulders and fastened with a pin, Kai leans back against a tree.

WHAT WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT PART OF WORKING ON THIS SHAWL?

I think honestly the thing that I had the most consistent trouble with is keeping count of where I was as the rows got long. This project had the longest rows I’ve ever worked on, and I was, um, not as diligent at keeping track in some places as I should have been.

WHAT DID YOU LEARN WHILE WORKING ON THIS SHAWL?

That chaos lace is possibly the most fun technique I’ve ever discovered! Also: counting is important. I found that I really also enjoyed the fade technique that I used to transition from the Dubh colorway to the edging colorway, and that’s making me think I’ll have fun with similar color-changing effects in the future.

Enjoying the seasonal foliage / Wrapped up close for warmth / Securing with a pin

DID YOU LIKE YOUR FIRST EXPERIENCE WITH DESIGN WORK? AND RELATEDLY, ARE YOU PLANNING ON RELEASING THIS PATTERN?

I almost feel guilty calling it design work because it’s composed of very simple patterns with a crazy tail added on, but yeah- I can’t give instructions for identical chaos lace to mine, but if people are interested I can write out a simple sketch! (Kit note – I’m interested in knitting up my own copy of the shawl, so I’m also invested in a written pattern existing.)

DID YOU ENJOY WORKING WITH THE YARN?

Yeah! It wasn’t a difficult yarn to manage, so it feels like it’s fairly strong without being scratchy or unpleasant to touch. It’s a good, medium, balanced yarn. One of the things I enjoyed about the dye work itself was the way that it very subtly moved from a deep, purpley tone to having hints of blue and brown and green, so in different lights the shawl has a range of colors like what you’d find in, say, a blackbird feather.

WHAT WAS THE MOST REWARDING PART OF THIS EXPERIENCE?

Having a big warm shawl to wear that’s exactly what I’d been picturing.

WHERE DO YOU PLAN TO WEAR SUCH A BIG STATEMENT SHAWL?

Wherever I want! I figure I’ll mostly wear it as an outer layer on colder days, as it’s pretty heavy for milder weather. (Kit note – she’s literally been wearing it everywhere. A shawl this fabulous makes its own space, and Kai has never been shy about her wardrobe.)

Kai likes to have fun during shoots / She also just really, really loves this shawl

WHAT ARE YOU MAKING NEXT?

Right now, I’m working on trying to level up my basic knitting skills before I try to do anything more ambitious. I’m going back to the Simple Collection by Tin Can Knits and working on the Oats Cowl.

And that’s all from Kai! I am also very in love with this project, and, as mentioned, I’ll be working with her on making the pattern more accessible. For now, though, it’s time to go enjoy the spookiest of eves. Stay warm, friends!

boooOOOoooOOOooo

[catmomjudy]

New-ish project. I bought this a few months ago but got busy with other things. I like having something mindless around to work on, and I finished my previous mindless project. I like more complicated things (and I’m currently working on a Tunisian crochet afghan with a different stitch in every block), but I also like having something where I can read or watch TV while working on it.

My sister was visiting last week and brought along her own project, which is a shawl made out of a similar cake yarn, so I dragged this out. Cake yarn is pretty cool. It’s self-striping and wound so you can see the colors. We had fun announcing “New color!” while we sat and watched at least two seasons of “Friends.”