#next time i'll need a more complicated pattern

[insidekatmind]

Mission- Bucky Barnes

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The jet lands with a jolt on the deserted runway of a private island. Outside the window, palm trees sway in the breeze, and a pink sunset paints the horizon. There’s no time to appreciate it, though. You’re here for a mission, and it’s already off to a bad start.

“I can’t believe I have to do this with you,” scoffs Bucky Barnes, throwing you a look of pure disgust.

“The feeling is mutual,old man,” you reply through gritted teeth. Your name, Y/N, is printed on the fake passport you’re holding, but your real task is far more complicated than maintaining a false identity. The mission requires you and Bucky to pose as a happily married couple to infiltrate an exclusive gala hosted by an international arms dealer.

“Wasn’t there literally anyone else available?” he asks, shaking his head.

“We’re not here for sympathy, Barnes. You’re the only one with a shady enough past to avoid suspicion.”

He laughs, but without a shred of humor. “And you’re the only one who speaks enough languages to keep up with a crooked diplomat. Just don’t expect me to pretend I enjoy being here.”

“And don’t expect a hug from me,” you reply with an icy smile.

---

The villa assigned to the two of you is luxurious: white marble, designer furniture, and an ocean view that takes your breath away. Too bad the tension in the room is heavy enough to crush any promise of relaxation.

“There’s only one bed,” you say, pointing to the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“Perfect,” Bucky replies, dropping his bag on the armchair nearby. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance. I need proper sleep for tomorrow night’s gala.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t come near you even by accident.”

You finally decided to share a bed. You were wearing shorts and a tank top as you stared at the ceiling.

Bucky lies next to you, tense and unmoving. Even without looking at him, you can feel the distance between you both, like a chasm that can’t be crossed. Your eyes wander to the ceiling, tracing the pattern of shadows in the dim light. Finally, he breaks the silence.“Do you expect me to believe that you actually need sleep?” he mutters under his breath.

"What?" You ask, turning to him.Bucky doesn't turn to you, but his voice is still laced with sarcasm. "You heard me. I know you're used to pulling all-nighters for missions. You don't exactly act like the type to need a full eight hours to feel refreshed."

You look at him with a twinkle of sarcasm. "Well this time it's different, I'm on a mission with you and I have to put up with you, so I need sleep".

Bucky rolls over onto his side, finally facing you. “Oh, so I’m such a pain that I keep you awake now?” he says with a smirk. “Is this how you treat all the people you’ve ever worked with?”

"not just old men who think they are better than others" you reply looking at him.“Old man?” He repeats, sitting up on the bed. “You’re really calling me an old man? Aren’t you supposed to flatter your partner on these missions? Or is that just reserved for the men you actually like?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes ignoring him.Bucky doesn’t get ignored easily, though. He scoots his way towards you in the bed, his prosthetic arm brushing against your arm. “What, no smartass reply? I can’t believe I’ve finally managed to shut you up,” he teases, his voice low and quiet.

“Keep your hands or I'll turn your other arm into vibranium too,” you threaten.

Bucky holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m just trying to get a reaction out of you.” He scoots even closer, so that you can feel the heat of his body next to you. “And I think I’ve succeeded.”

“Very funny arm wrestling,” you say sarcastically.“You got plenty of jokes, huh?” Bucky replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans in a little closer, the distance between you almost vanishing. “You know, I can think of a better way to occupy that smart mouth of yours, princess.”

You turn and find yourself a little too close to him. "Oh really?" you say sarcastically.Bucky takes advantage of your proximity, invading your personal space even further. His face is inches from yours now, his breath dancing across your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, a hint of danger in his voice. “I’ve got some ideas….”

Bucky’s fingertips graze your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I wonder if you’d be this sarcastic if I took away that smart mouth of yours.”He shifts his weight on the bed, pinning you against the sheets as he leans over you. He’s so close now that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

"What the hell are you doing?" You murmur, looking at him above you.Bucky smirks, relishing your surprise. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, his voice a low growl. His head dips down, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m testing a theory….”

Bucky's hands roam over your body, the metal one surprisingly gentle. “Tell me your theory,” you manage to gasp as his fingers tease the edge of your tank top.Bucky's lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “My theory is that your smart-ass mouth isn’t as tough as you think it is,” he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “And I bet I could find a more entertaining use for it.”

“Your theory is wrong old men” you say.Bucky laughs at that, his chest rumbling against yours. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he says, his hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt. “I’ve yet to see you speechless. I bet I could make you speechless. I bet I could make you forget every smartass comment you’ve ever thought and make you begging for more.”

“get your hands off me” you say looking at him.Bucky's hand stills, pressed flat against your stomach. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice a low murmur. “Or are you just saying that because you’re too stubborn to admit you like my hands on you?”

"Why would I like it, hm?" You murmur, looking at him.Bucky grins above you, his eyes flicking down to your lips. “Oh, I think you do. I think you like me this close to you. I think you like the way my hand feels on your skin….”

His prosthetic hand travels up, pushing under your top until you can feel the cool metal against the skin of your stomach. “I think you’re just too stubborn to admit it,” he says, his voice a sultry whisper.

His fingers trace the edge of your bra through your shirt, a light touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “I think you’re struggling to keep hold of all those smartass comments, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I think you’re about to lose your words completely.”

“fuck you” you blurt out looking at him.Bucky laughs, his voice a deep rumble. “Now that’s exactly the kind of dirty talk I like to hear,” he replies, enjoying your reaction. His hand slips down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “You know, you really should watch that mouth of yours, princess.”

You could feel his hardness touching you and you looked up at him. "You like this kinky game, yes?" you murmur.

Bucky’s smirk turns into a grin, his eyes darkening with want. “I like anything that gets a reaction out of you,” he replies, his hand roaming across your hip and up your thigh. “And you’ve been giving me quite the reaction.”

His hand slips under your top, his fingers splaying across your back. He pulls you closer to him, his hips grinding against yours. “But I have a feeling we could both have some more fun…”

You hold back a moan feeling his hardness more towards you.Bucky’s smirk only widens as he hears your stifled moan. “That’s more like it,” he says, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to make a noise for me.”

"you won't get anything from me" he murmured not with the same certainty that characterizes you.Bucky laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, princess, I think you underestimate me,” he replies. “I’ll get you to make all sorts of pretty noises for me before the night is over.”

His lips find your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “And you can’t fool me,” he murmurs. “I can feel you shivering, I can hear your breathing getting rougher. You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m touching you….”

His hand is roaming over your body, pushing your shirt higher over your stomach and your chest. “Go on,” he urges, his voice husky. “Say it. Tell me you like it when I touch you like this….”

“No, I don’t,” you say even as your sighs grow heavy.

Bucky laughs at your stubbornness, but there’s an edge to it. “Oh, princess, you’re a terrible liar,” he says, his hand moving to your waist. “I know you want this. I can feel it in the way you arch your back when I touch you. And I’m not going to stop until you stop pretending.”

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth scraping against your skin. “Stop playing games, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.”

You moan at the contact. “no, I don’t” you say in a tense voice.

Bucky’s smirk widens, his hand sliding up your leg. “Your moans don’t seem to agree with your words,” he murmurs. “I know you can’t resist me. I know you’re just as much of a mess under my touch as I am under yours….”

His hand moves farther north, slipping under the hem of your shorts. “Give in, princess,” he whispers, his voice a low growl. “Just say the words and I’m all yours….”

You closed your eyes trying not to give in but you could feel Bucky's hand playing with your thong.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you react to his touch. “There you go,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with the lace of your lingerie. “I know you’re close to breaking, isn’t that right? I know you’re just moments away from giving in…”

His thumb brushes against your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Come on, princess, I want to hear you say it,” he says, his voice dripping with want. “I want to hear you admit that you want this as badly as I do…”

You moan at the touch and arch. “I hate you so much” you murmur.Bucky laughs huskily, feeling your body respond to his touch. “No, you don’t,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “You don’t hate me at all. You hate how much you want me…. How much you need me….”

His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, his hand edging them down your hips. “Admit it, princess,” he whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Admit that you want me as badly as I want you….” His hand moves to your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing. “Say the words,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “Say you want me, princess. Say you need me just as badly as I need you….”

You bit your lip to keep from giving in but it was very difficult, you were wavering and you just wanted him to give you pleasure.Bucky lets out a low curse as he feels you resist him. “You’re such a stubborn little thing,” he grumbles, his hand tightening on your thigh. “But I won’t let you keep up this act, princess. I’ll break you, it’s only a matter of time…. Just say the words, sweetheart….”

His fingers slide further up your thigh, edging up under your shorts. “Just a few words, princess,” he urges, his voice rough with want. “Just tell me you want me, and then I’ll give you what you need…”

You moan again but you don't want to give in. "No".Bucky curses again, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re so damn stubborn, princess,” he mutters, his voice tight with want. “But you’re also lying to yourself….”

Bucky finally leans down and kisses you passionately and hungrily.The kiss is almost violent, a clash of need and desperation. Bucky’s lips are hot against yours, his tongue seeking yours as he presses you into the sheets. He bites at your bottom lip, then leans back, his eyes dark with desire. “Say it, princess,” he growls, his hand still on your thigh. “Just say you want me….”

You moan and kiss him. Bucky laughs huskily, his hand moving up your body. “There we go, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for…”His lips move down to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there and causing you to gasp again. “Say it, princess,” he repeats, his hand finally moving up to cup your core. “Just tell me you want me….”

You moan at his words and surrender to him. "I want you".Bucky lets out a low growl of satisfaction as he hears your words. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his fingers trailing against your skin. “I knew you couldn’t resist me for long.”

He takes your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. His body presses against yours, his weight holding you in place. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, princess?” he whispers in your ear, his breath hot and heavy.His hand slides down your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “But now that you’ve given in, I’m going to have some fun with you…” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise. “I’m going to make you scream for me…”

He kissed you again and put two fingers inside your panties and into your core making you moan into the kiss.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you arch against him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let it out. Let me hear how good I make you feel…”He moves his fingers slowly, finding a rhythm that makes you moan again. “I knew you’d feel good,” he whispers, his eyes dark with want. “

His fingers move a little faster, the pressure inside of you increasing. “But I bet I could make you feel even better…” he murmurs, his mouth moving down to your neck. “I bet I could make you scream for me".

“Bucky” you moan and arch once more.Bucky’s smirk is almost feral as he hears you moan his name. “There it is,” he mutters, his fingers working faster as they press deeper into you. “I knew you’d sound like that when you finally let yourself go…”

He bites at your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. “And I know I can make you moan louder, sweetheart… if you beg me right…”

His fingers move again, finding a place inside you that makes you gasp. “Beg me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “Beg me to make you feel good. Beg me to give you what you need…”

You felt his fingers go faster and faster inside you and you could feel yourself getting close. “Please Bucky,” you murmur.Bucky grins at your words, his fingers moving even faster. “Please, what, princess?” he murmurs, his mouth moving to your ear. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do…”

“let me come please” You murmur moving your hips on his fingers.

Bucky grins at your pleading tone, his fingers finally getting the reaction he wanted. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me like that… so pretty when you ask for what you want…”

His fingers move a little faster, going deeper. “You’re so close, princess,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it. I can feel your body tensing up… begging for release…"

He moves his mouth back to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he presses his forehead against yours. “But you have to ask me nicely if you want it…” he mutters, his voice raw with need. “You have to beg me for what you need, princess…”

You whimper at his words. “please Bucky, I’m so close” you murmur.Bucky’s grin widens at your words, his fingers finally giving you what you’ve been craving. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his touch rough yet still gentle with you. “You like it when I make you beg for it…”

“please” you murmur moaning feeling yourself getting closer and closer.Bucky’s fingers move a little faster at your words, his touch more insistent as he moves against you. “Almost there, princess, you’re so close,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “But I need you to say those magic words. I need you to beg me one more time…”

"Bucky please" you scream.Bucky grins at your scream, his fingers moving faster than ever inside you. “There it is, princess,” he mutters, breathing hard. “You sound so pretty when you scream my name… now let go for me, sweetheart."

You moan at his words and come on his fingers. “fuck” you murmur, closing your eyes in pleasure.Bucky let out a low growl as he feels you come on his fingers. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl…”

He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. “You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust. “I knew you’d be sweet"

Bucky leans down, his body pressing against yours. “But I’m not done with you yet, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “Not even close…”

You look at him knowing you were in for a long night.

[tinydefector]

Marine Centre 13 - Smut

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: smut, oral, vaginal sex, size difference.

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Megatron was back in quarantine, despite how much he hated being locked up in the pools he knew it was for the best due to the shark bites that had gotten infected. "Back in here big guy, christ" they mumble softly moving to sit down on the edge of the pool. 

Megatron's crimson eyes narrow as they approach, his massive frame shifting irritably within the confines of the quarantine pool. A low, rumbling growl escapes his chest, betraying his lingering displeasure at being confined. “I know, I know but we don't want you to get worse again Meg's” they call back to the large Oceanide. 

his fins flicking with barely contained agitation. Megatron's displeasure is palpable. As he glares, his lip pulled back in a half-snarl, for all his bluster and power, he wouldn’t hurt them, not now. Shifting his massive frame, Megatron cautiously drifts closer to the edge of the pool. A part of him, buried deep beneath layers of pride and distrust, yearns for the soothing presence they seem to provide. He enjoyed when they are close, and when their fingers trace over the fins of his head. 

"Will you let me touch you? Or are you gonna try and bite my hand?” They are gentle when he does reach them, when his head rests against their leg they reach out and caress his head frills and fins. "You're much calmer than last time you were in here, I'm glad you're not trying to eat me" they tease softly before letting their fingers trace the patterns etched into his head frills. 

"Hmph," he rumbles, his voice low and gravelly it almost sounds to human to the caretaker. "Grumpy big shark aren't you." They coo softly. His fins flick once, before extending in full display as they continue to trace the patterns and little frilly pieces. 

As their hands move closer to his face, he tenses slightly, his massive frame shifting in the water. His crimson eyes flick between their face and their hands as he presses his face into the warm flesh. He rests there, another deep rumble leaving his frame as his tail displaces the water around him as he does his best to stay close just enjoying the contact. 

When their hands hover near his wounds, he flinches instinctively, a deep growl emanating from his chest a warning. "Shhh, i just want to check them big man, i wont give you needles i promise i just want to have a look" they are trying to reassure him, after all he was a very large Sharklike Oceanide and he could change his temper in a heartbeat if he so chose too. The growls turn softer. “ I'll have to get you more antibiotics too, can't have you getting scale rot because it hasn't been looked after, your lucky salt water is good for wounds Big man" they press a gentle little kiss to the crest of his head frills before slowly slip into the pool with him. swimming around him as they check for any other wounds, only to gasp when the large mer scoops them up and rolls to have them resting atop his chest.

Megatron rumbles low in his chest, his eyes narrowing as he listens to their soft little noises of protest at being grabbed. Despite how much Megatron hated being poked he understood that the humans were trying to keep them all healthy, he had been the healthiest he'd been in a long time while under their care. The infection had worsened before they intervened, and though he loathes the indignity of being confined, he knows the fleshies attention has been keeping him from worse complications.

"You act as though I am fragile," he grumbles, his tone laced with mock irritation. "I do not need your...fussing, little one." His large webbed hand holds them against his large frame, pulling a faint and reluctant purr from the scared mer. His powerful tail swishes, displacing the water around them. His bioluminescent little dots and freckles pulse and flicker faintly in the dim light, "You are far too bold, soft skin" he rumbles, his voice softer than before, though still carrying its characteristic edge. "Swimming so freely with me. Do you forget who I am, little one? Or do you simply enjoy tempting fate?" His lip curls slightly, almost as though he’s amused, at how they didn't fear him anymore.

The human, momentarily startled, looks up at him with wide eyes before offering a small, nervous laugh. Megatron huffs, a deep, resonant sound that ripples through the water. 

"You are...persistent," he mutters after a long pause, "It is...unusual. you swim with us more comfortably than you walk with your own" 

When his large, webbed hand trails up their back and settles on their shoulder, brushing against their face with surprising care, they shudder under his touch. The reaction draws a low, rumbling growl from him—possessive yet restrained. His optics narrow slightly, his head tilting to follow their movements as they remain perched atop him. 

 His thumb claw brushes their cheek again, his touch surprisingly gentle for a creature of his size. "You should leave" he adds, though the growl that rumbles, he can feel the toll of mating season affecting him, and being confined to the pool had made it much worse for him. 

Megatron becomes increasingly aware of the changes stirring within himself. The warmth of their presence, their touch, and their unyielding care seem to stoke a fire that had been quietly building within him. His frills twitch slightly, betraying his growing unease with the unfamiliar sensations coursing through his massive frame. He pulls off his instincts, heightened by the onset of his breeding cycle, and begins to override the usual walls he keeps so firmly in place.

"You test my patience, soft one, you need to leave before I do something I regret" but he does little to try and remove them from atop of himself. rumbles, though his tone is layered with something far more complex than irritation. Megatron’s moves rather slowly, arching his body as he presses his broad forehead to theirs, a deep, rumbling growl vibrating through his chest. His frills flutter slightly, and his massive frame shifts beneath them, the water rippling gently as he continues to breathe them in.

The human freezes at the gesture, their eyes wide as the realization begins to settle in. They can feel the heat of his massive form beneath them, the way his gaze lingers, heavy and hungry. When they stutter out their soft apology, Megatron huffs, his breath warm against their skin. He leans in closer, his nose brushing against their neck as he inhales deeply, the sound is deep and guttural. His massive hand, still resting on their shoulder, tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over their collarbone thought the wet suit with a possessive slowness. Megatron growls again, this time lower, deeper, more possessive as his instincts begin to take hold. "You smell...different," he rumbles, his voice a husky. "Enticing." 

He can hear them speaking but isn't paying attention enough up until he feels their shaky hands move past his claws, undoing the zipper of their wetsuit, Megatron’s eyes snap and lock onto the motion. He doesn’t move to stop them, but the please purr escapes him is unmistakable—a sound of approval, of anticipation. His massive frame shifts slightly in the water. 

"Do you understand what you are offering, little one?" he growls softly, "This is no game." His other hand, massive and webbed, rises slowly from the water to hover near their side cupping their waist, as if waiting for their final decision.

 Their breath come quicker, their heart pounding in their chest as they process the weight of the situation. Their eyes flick nervously to the door, the thought of someone walking in making their stomach churn. They know what he is.what he’s capable of. "I know," they whisper shakily, their voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "Just...be gentle, okay? I’m not like you. I…" They pause, swallowing hard as they meet his burning gaze. "I don't want to get caught." It's barely a whisper, more for themself than for the mer. 

Megatron presses them gently but firmly against the edge of the pool, his massive hands keeping them steady in his grasp as he peels away the wetsuit throwing It against a wall with a wet slap which makes them tense as their head snaps back to the door. The water ripples around his immense frame, his field buzzing with a heady mix of dominance and desire. His frills stretched outward as his gaze raked over their exposed body, taking in every curve, every detail, every difference between their form and his own. 

His lips curl slightly, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glimmer of something primal in his intensity. When his face lowers, bringing him closer to the apex of their thighs, the low, rumbling growl that escapes him is almost enough to make the water tremble. His broad nose brushes against their skin as he inhales deeply, their scent pulling a guttural sound from deep within his chest.

The low echoing call vibrates through the water and into their very core. His pupils dilate as their scent floods his senses, his body responding instinctively, his frills flaring outward. The first tentative brush of his tongue against their heat draws a startled gasp from the human, their body arching instinctively against him. The sound, the way their fingers tangle in the frills at the back of his head, sends a shiver down Megatron's dorsal fin. His tongue, broad and surprisingly soft, moves again, this time with more purpose, tasting them as though committing their flavor to memory.

Their whimpers and soft cries spur him on, his growl deepening as he presses closer, pressing his tongue deeper into them as he does his best to avoid his teeth brushing their skin. His grip on their hips tightens, though not enough to hurt, just enough to keep them steady as his tongue moves with slow, deliberate strokes. his movements grow more confident, more insistent, as if testing the limits of their endurance. The taste of their arousal only fuels the fire burning within him. 

Their soft cries muffled behind their hand and the way their other hand grip the back of his head seem to please him. It doesn't take long for Megatron to move, pulling away his lips coated in a sheen of arousal as his tongue flicks out to lap it up. He places his large hands on each side of the caretaker's frame arching his own frame over them, towering almost like a shadow. He rest there for a moment before slinking back into the water, grabbing them and pulling them back into the water, back onto his body. 

Megatron rumbles deeply as he reclines back into the water, pulling them close against his massive frame with a surprising gentleness. His powerful hands settle on their hips, guiding them carefully as they adjust to the situation. Though his instincts demand urgency, he holds himself back. he knows his size, his strength, and the differences between them. Hurting them would be unacceptable. They gasp feeling the rather large appendage pressed between their thighs, eyes going wide in shock, they knew what they were getting into after all they had already done this once before but then again Megatron was a much larger mer than Bluestreak is. 

As they shift atop him, their soft gasps and whimpers draw his full attention, The press of his thick, ridged length against their thighs elicits a low, guttural growl from him, his marks flickering faintly in response. His thumb brushes against the dip of their hip in a slow, reassuring motion, his frills flicking as he fights to suppress his primal urges to throw them down and have his way with them. 

They take a shaky breath as their hand slowly wraps around the large mers penis, looking down to admire the difference in anatomy, claiming themself down slightly as they slowly press it between their thighs, choking out on a moan as Megatron’s cock finally breaches their channel. whimpers softly leave them as they begin to press down trying to take more of the girthy length, their body struggling to accommodate his size. The stretch is intense, almost overwhelming, but Megatron’s steady grip on their hips and the low, soothing growl vibrating through his chest offer a strange sense of comfort. 

His eyes flicker as he feels the first inch of himself sheathed within them, his broad frame tensing slightly beneath the water as he fights the instinct to thrust upward.

"That’s it," he murmurs, his tone softer and almost melodic. His massive webbed hands remain firm at their waist and thigh, guiding them with painstaking care as they take him in, inch by inch.

 They tremble as they continue to lower themselves, the strange, overwhelming sensation of being stretched and filled making their breath hitch. It’s not entirely unlike their experience with Bluestreak, but Megatron is so much larger, so much more imposing. The ridges of his appendage press against them in ways that make their body shudder, a mix of discomfort and pleasure as they adjust to his sheer size. They let out a soft cry that they slam their hand over their mouth to silence, as another inch slides inside. Megatron growls again, the heat and tightness nearly driving him to the edge of his restraint. His frills flare outward, his bioluminescent marks glowing brighter beneath the water as his massive frame remains still, allowing them to control the pace.

As they finally settle fully onto him, their body trembling with the effort, Megatron lets out a low, rumbling purr, his hands trailing up their back. their body begins to adjust, the discomfort slowly giving way to a strange, burgeoning pleasure as they shift slightly atop him. "Do not rush," he says softly, his voice a low purr. "Your body will adjust." His frills twitch again. 

Megatron growls deeply, the sound reverberating through his massive chest and into the water as their hips begin to move. The tentative roll of their body against his sends a surge of pleasure through him, His patience only barely holds as he feels them begin to adjust to his size, their soft keening sounds stirring his primal instincts.

He grips their hips slowly lifting them slightly before pulling them back down onto his thick length, the water swirling around them from the motion. The friction, the heat, the tightness.Their back arches as they cling to him, their hands pressed against the sandpaper like scales of his chest. His powerful frame shifting beneath them with a precision that belies his size. It earns a yelp followed by soft moans and a trembling body only spur him on, though he remains conscious of the need to keep them quiet.

As their pace quickens, the strange sensation of being stretched and filled gives way to something deeper, their keens growing louder despite their efforts to stay quiet. His claws pressing gently into their skin but never breaking it, as he helps guide them, his powerful frame moving in perfect sync with theirs.

 Every roll of their hips, or buck from him has them gasping and whimpering. As the tension in their body builds, Megatron’s growls grow deeper, his grip on their hips tightening as his own control begins to waver. He knows not all of his length will fit, it’s impossible, given their size, and yet the heat and tightness of their body wrapped around him is enough to drive him to the edge of his control. His knot, partially swollen, presses insistently against their entrance each time they drop down onto his spike, the friction sending a surge of pleasure through him.

Despite the primal instincts clawing at him, he doesn’t push further. He knows they’re too small to take his knot, and the last thing he wants is to hurt them. Instead, his massive hands grip their hips firmly but carefully, guiding them as they move together. Each downward motion presses his knot against them, the sheer size of it making them gasp and whimper, their soft cries only fueling his desire.

The way they tremble, the way they moan and sob softly against him, only tightens the coil in his core, his frills flaring as the tension builds. Their moans grow louder, their body shuddering as they drop onto him again and again, their movements becoming more unsteady as the sensations overwhelm them. When they finally collapse against his chest, their sobs muffled against his scales, Megatron lets out a low, guttural growl, his hips grinding upward to meet theirs. His hands move to their back, holding them close as his thrusts grow slower, deeper, each movement deliberate as he chases his release.

The sheer force of his release is overwhelming, hot ropes of his semen fill them. It’s more than their body can hold, spilling out almost immediately, mixing with the water around them. The sensation sends a shiver down his massive frame, his claws pressing lightly against their back as he keeps them flush against him, his hips grinding slowly to prolong the moment. His instincts scream for him to bite down, to mark them as his own, but he holds back, his sharp teeth hovering near their shoulder as he lets out a low, frustrated growl. Instead, he settles for dragging his lips along their skin.

The human clings to him weakly, their breath shaky as they try to recover, their body still trembling from the intensity of it all. They can feel the steady rumble of his chest beneath them, his deep purring vibrations oddly soothing. His knot, still partially swollen, rests against them, but he makes no move to press further, his hands instead trailing softly over their stomach, eyes locked on the bulge visible through their skin. 

When he finally slips free from their body, they let out a soft gasp, their muscles clenching instinctively at the sudden emptiness. Not much of his release follows most of it had already settled, its thick, sticky nature keeping it securely in place. The sensation of being so utterly filled yet feeling so empty leaves them squirming slightly against him, their whimpers muffled as they press their face into his chest. They eventually relaxes against him, their breathing evening out as their body begins to acclimate to the sensation They shift slightly, their fingers curling weakly against his chest as they let out a soft sigh, the tension in their muscles slowly melting away under his touch.

The walk back to the locker rooms and showers was quiet, they keeping their eyes firmly on the ground as they hobbled along, their legs still shaky. Their heart pounded in their chest, a mix of lingering pleasure and growing anxiety swirling within them. They could feel the stickiness left behind between their thighs, their head snaps to Dale and Bailey chatting near the stinging ray pools, with Nola perched on a nearby stool as she scribbled notes on her clipboard. The familiar sounds of the aquarium water filters humming, the occasional splash from the tanks echoed in the background, but every sound felt louder, every glance from their coworkers more scrutinizing. They kept their head low, avoiding eye contact as they shuffled past, praying no one noticed the faint limp in their step or the flush still burning their cheeks. 

Each step felt like it took an eternity, their nerves fraying with every passing second. If anyone found out what they'd been doing it would all be over. Blacklisted, ostracized, maybe even jailed. The very idea made their stomach churn. This wasn’t just a breach of protocol; it was something far worse, something no one would ever forgive.  

The locker room door finally swung shut behind them, and they let out a shaky breath, their shoulders slumping in relief. They made a beeline for the showers, peeling off the damp wetsuit and tossing it into the corner before stepping under the hot spray. The water cascaded down their skin, washing away the saltwater, the sand, and the sticky residue clinging to their thighs. They tilted their head back, letting the heat soothe their aching muscles, but their mind was far from calm.  

‘What am I doing…’ they thought bitterly, running their hands through their hair as the water poured over them. ‘This is insane. If someone finds out…’ The thought trailed off, sending a shiver of fear down their spine. They couldn’t let that happen. No one could ever know. Their fingers brushed against the faint indentations on their hips where the mers claws had held them, and a fresh wave of heat flushed through their body. The memory of his growls, his purring, the way he’d carefully held them despite his overwhelming size—it all played over in their mind, leaving them breathless and conflicted. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.  

And yet, it had. Twice now. Two different Oceanides, two entirely different experiences, and yet the same reckless, impulsive actions on their part. They groaned softly, pressing their forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall.  

‘No more,’ they told themselves firmly, though the conviction in their thoughts wavered. ‘This has to stop. It doesn’t matter how careful I am someone will find out eventually. And when they do…’ They didn’t finish the thought, instead turning their focus back to scrubbing themselves clean. The hot water felt like a small comfort, washing away the evidence of what had happened, but it couldn’t erase the guilt—or the lingering ache of satisfaction they felt deep in their core.  

By the time they stepped out of the shower, the water had done little to ease their nerves. They dried off quickly, pulling on fresh clothes and carefully checking their reflection in the mirror. Their face was still a little flushed, but hopefully, no one would notice. They couldn’t afford to raise any suspicions.  

As they left the locker room, their heart skipped a beat at the sight of Dale walking past with a clipboard in hand. He glanced at them briefly, giving a smile before continuing on his way.  They exhaled sharply, their hands clenched into fists at their sides. ‘ Keep it together,’ they thought. ‘Act normal, and no one will ever know.’  

But as they made their way back to the main area of the facility, they couldn’t shake the heavy weight of what they’d done or the quiet, nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t as in control of the situation as they wanted to believe.

__________

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[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is determined to take care of everything so you can take take care of Rose. A visit to your doctor answers a lot of questions, and Bradley is hoping he can still give you the babymoon that he promised.

Warnings: Angst, injury, potential pregnancy complications, fluff, smut

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley had you eating three square meals a day all weekend long. He spent more time talking to your mom than you did, and she helped him cook while you took little naps. Any time food was mentioned, in any capacity, he got you involved.

"Cam and Maria want to know if I'm interested in going out for a belated birthday brunch since I'm feeling a bit better," you told him as you read your texts on Sunday morning.

"Tell them yes," Bradley replied where he was still in bed next to you with his head on your shoulder and his eyes closed. "But I'll drop you off and pick you up." His rough fingers tracing an intricate pattern along your skin from your belly up to your breasts, and you knew better than to argue with him.

"Okay," you murmured as he kissed along the side of your breast. He'd been touching you nonstop since he brought you home from the hospital. If you were awake, his body was in contact with yours, and his hands were on your belly. And when you slept, he seemed to miraculously clean the house and walk Tramp and make edible food. But while he'd been touching you constantly, he didn't initiate sex, and neither did you.

Truthfully, your hand was still aching a bit, and every time you felt Rose move, you silently rejoiced. Your body was sore, and you just kept wanting to go back to sleep. You found yourself stifling yawn after yawn, and you knew Bradley had noticed by the way he kept ushering you back to bed. Of course he would be very gentle with you, but right now, you didn't need anything more than what he was giving you.

Quickly, you finished texting Cam and Maria, then you tossed your phone aside. When you rolled Bradley onto his back, he was smiling as he whispered, "How's my Nugget?" while he played with your necklace charms.

Your visit to the emergency room after you fell at work had been terrifying, but having Bradley around always made you feel stronger. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

With those words, you were on your back once again, and Bradley's lips were skimming along your belly. "Hey, Rosie. You having fun in there?" He grinned and glanced up at you, letting his mustache tickle your skin as he said, "Daddy would love to be inside Mommy, too."

You snorted in response, something stirring the way it always did when Bradley's big, brown eyes were focused on you. "I mean... I don't have to be at brunch until eleven."

His biceps were on display along with his messy hair, and you were never going to stop wanting him. But he was shaking his head slowly as he told you, "I'm in no rush to make that happen. Let's see what Dr. Morris says tomorrow. You're supposed to be taking it easy, and so is Rose."

"You're right," you agreed, still biting your lip as the sensation of Bradley's mouth on your body.

"I love you," he whispered against your belly before hovering over your body to kiss your lips. "And I love you, Sweetheart. And you're never allowed to scare me again."

When he eventually drove you to brunch, he refused to just drop you off and come back. Instead, he walked you inside, his big hand wrapped around yours, and took you all the way to the table where Cam and Maria were waiting. 

"Hey," he greeted your friends, yanking his aviators down his nose as he wrapped his arm around you. "She's supposed to be eating plenty of healthy foods rich with nutrients and vitamins. Can the two of you be responsible for what she orders?"

"Roo," you whined, rolling your eyes, but your friends just nodded up at your husband.

"Yes," they recited in unison.

"Excellent," Bradley replied, largely ignoring your complaints as he added, "And you'll make sure she drinks at least three glasses of water?"

"Yes," they repeated.

"Perfect," he muttered, leaning in to give you a kiss while his hand slid down your belly. "Text me when you want me to come get you, Sweetheart."

As he walked away, you sighed, but both of your friends had their eyes glued to him. "Damn," Maria said as you took the seat across from her. "He means business."

Cam bit his knuckle before he picked up the menu as if he didn't already know what he was going to order. "You're so fucking lucky you have such a bossy husband," he complained. "And one with a mustache. If I didn't like you so much, I would hate you."

You watched Bradley's broad back as he exited the restaurant and headed toward the red Bronco, pushing his sunglasses into place as he went. "I would probably hate me, too," you murmured, picking up your first of three glasses of water and taking a long sip.

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

Bradley ran around with his checklist on Monday morning so he didn't forget anything. You mom taught him how to make overnight oatmeal in the slow cooker, which seemed to be the only kitchen appliance that he was able to master on the first try. He fucking loved that thing; you just tossed food into it, and it turned into a meal like magic. He vaguely remembered his mom having one, which just made it even better.

Every time he thought about his parents, he had to stop and catch his breath. His desire to do this right was overwhelming. After you fell at work, he knew there was no margin for error. He filled up a cup with water and carried it back to the bedroom where he hoped you were still asleep, but you weren't even there.

"Baby Girl?" he called out, but then he heard the toilet flush and the sink run before you shuffled back in from the bathroom.

"You're making me drink too much water," you grumbled as he ushered you back to bed. "I can't stop peeing."

He set the new cup down and picked up the used one. "Just humor me, please. I'll come back to pick you up at 11:45 to take you to Dr. Morris. I'll feel a lot better after she examines the two of you, and I have a list of seventeen questions for her."

You looked at him like he was joking. He wasn't. "Mmkay, Roo. Come back and get me later," you said, kissing his lips before climbing back into bed. 

When he got to base, everyone was asking about you."She's at home resting," he assured Nat. "She's sore and tired, but the baby is moving around a bunch. I'm taking them to get checked out again at lunchtime today. Oh, and thanks for getting groceries for me. And driving me to the emergency room. And making sure I didn't have a full nervous breakdown."

Nat gave him a big hug. "Literally what I'm here for, Soul Sister. Just keep me in mind when nominations come out for godparents," she told him with a wink.

"Huh," he grunted, because he hadn't even thought about that. If he had to choose someone, he would probably want it to be Nat, but he didn't know where you stood on the topic, so he didn't say another word about it. When he had to get in his Super Hornet and take off, his mind shifted back to Friday, and a flash of panic went through his body as his wheels left the runway. 

"Rooster, do you copy?" He realized Maverick had asked him something, but he had no idea what. All he could picture was your tear streaked face as you lay in the hospital bed shivering.

"Say again?" he asked, hand gripping the throttle as he tried to focus. He should have used a vacation day, but he was trying to save them up for after the baby was born. He was kind of terrified that you'd have to go out on medical leave, and he knew he wasn't going to feel better about any of this until he heard from Dr. Morris.

"Meet Payback at the rendezvous point," Maverick repeated, and Bradley pushed his nervous energy to the side. How much trouble could you get into at home with Tramp anyway?

The answer was apparently a lot. When he walked in the door to pick you up for your appointment, he headed for the bedroom only to find you sitting on the floor of the baby's nursery with the dog next to you. "What are you doing?" he asked with a sigh. "You were supposed to be resting all morning."

"Relax," you told him, holding up your hands in surrender. "I got bored, so I just started sorting the baby clothes."

He cradled his forehead in his hand. "Baby Girl. You're killing me. Tell me you at least ate lunch? And drank enough water?"

"Three glasses of water," you replied, holding up three fingers and nodding. "And a peanut butter and hot sauce and jelly sandwich. And carrot sticks dipped in ketchup."

Bradley wanted to gag just thinking about it, but he supposed that was actually pretty good for you. "Excellent," he replied, reaching down to help you stand up. "We need to get going. Now."

"Oh," you whispered, kissing his cheek once you were on your feet. "You're really hot when you're being bossy."

Bradley sighed and let his head tip back as you ran your hand down the front of his flight suit. "If, and only if, Dr. Morris says having sex is okay, I could get real bossy with you later if you give me an attitude about eating your dinner."

You squeaked in delight and practically ran out of the room. "Let's get going," you called over your shoulder. "The sooner we ask, the sooner we can potentially fuck."

Bradley grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator on his way to help you put your shoes on, and he was trying not to laugh the entire time. "Drink this," he told you before tying your shoes. Then he kissed you hard before leading you out to the red Bronco.

Once he backed out of the driveway, you reached for his hand. Bradley drove with the radio playing softly, and eventually you squeezed his fingers and admitted, "I am a little nervous though."

So was he, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "We'll figure it out. You don't have to worry about it alone."

He held your hand in the waiting room, and he had his arm wrapped around you when the nurse called you back to be examined. They took about a million samples from you before you were allowed to get cozy on the exam table with him sitting by your side, gently rubbing your left hand without touching your stitches. He was just thinking about what he was going to cook for dinner when Dr. Morris finally walked in.

"It sounds like you had a bit of a scare on Friday," she remarked, carrying your chart in her hand.

"Yes," you said sheepishly. "It was really scary."

"Well," she sighed, taking a seat with a smile, "let's take a look."

You were gripping Bradley's hand as Dr. Morris got the ultrasound equipment ready, and a few seconds later, Rose was squirming around on the huge monitor. "She got so big," he gasped. "Sweetheart, look at her!"

"I see her, Roo."

Dr. Morris looked completely calm, but Bradley asked, "Is she okay? After the fall?"

"She's just fine. Heartbeat is good. She's nice and strong."

"Excellent," he replied while you laughed in relief.

"However," Dr. Morris added, making his heart skip a beat, "we do need to talk about preeclampsia."

Your face fell when Bradley looked at you. "I have preeclampsia?" you asked softly.

Your doctor nodded. "A mild case, but yes. The baby looks fantastic, but I'm going to need you to monitor your blood pressure daily at home. And I have a list of foods you should eat as well as ones to avoid. And you need to eat and drink regularly so you don't faint again."

"Am I allowed to go back to work?" you asked.

"Yes. With the promise that you won't overdo it. And if you start to feel light headed, you need to sit down immediately and call me."

"Right," you agreed. "And is it safe to fuck my husband?"

"Sweetheart," Bradley groaned, resting his forehead against your arm in embarrassment.

"What?" you asked while Dr. Morris chuckled. "You wanted to know, too!"

Bradley shook his head as your doctor had mercy on him and said, "You can absolutely have sex with your husband as long as it's not causing you stress or raising your blood pressure too much. Monitor it. Keep an eye on it."

"Right," you agreed again, giving Bradley side eye as he pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket.

"I have a few more questions for you, Dr. Morris. If you don't mind." He cleared his throat and started to read his seventeen questions, nodding at each answer until he got to his last one. "And how about a babymoon vacation? Is that something we can do?"

"I don't see why not," she said with a smirk. "Assuming your blood pressure doesn't get too high, and as long as you go in the next few weeks if air travel is involved. You're only ten weeks or so from your due date."

Well, that certainly put things into perspective for Bradley. He had a few ideas of where he wanted to take you, but now he was going to have to plan quickly and try to get some days off from work. 

"Do you think I should change into my maternity tent and go to work for the afternoon?" you asked as he led you out of the appointment.

"Absolutely fucking not," he replied, feeling much better but still wanting you to rest a little more. "I'm going to take you back home where you will relax and eat a healthy snack, and then I'll come home and make dinner."

You looked up at him in awe. "Those are words I legitimately never thought I would hear you say unironically."

"Get used to them," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you before you climbed into the Bronco. "And you better not give me an attitude about it, or else I could end up getting really bossy." He clicked your seatbelt into place with a grin as you clapped your hands.

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

"You made spaghetti?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest.

"Yes," Bradley replied easily where he stood in the kitchen hours later wearing your I Love Meat apron and holding a slotted spoon. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yeah. I'm not eating it. I don't want spaghetti."

"Hmm," Bradley hummed, carefully setting down the spoon and turning off the stove burner. "It sounds like you're giving me an attitude."

You had to squeeze your thighs together, already so turned on as he closed the distance to you while you said, "Maybe I am." You jutted your chin out at him and added, "What are you going to do about it?"

His gaze dipped down from your face to your breasts which were practically spilling out of your stretchy tank top. He had an erection which you could clearly see through his gym shorts and the apron. "I'm going to give you an attitude adjustment," he growled, pulling you closer to him. "And then you're going to eat the fucking dinner that I made for you without complaining."

You were already panting for him, so excited over this little roleplay exercise, but you squealed in surprise when he yanked your top clear off and and immediately got handsy. His thumbs were rough on your nipples as he stroked them and pressed your breasts together. Then he let his right hand slide down your backside where he gave you one soft swat and barked, "Hands on the counter."

You did as you were told, already rolling your hips as he stood behind you and yanked your shorts and underwear down. "Bradley," you whined when you saw the apron fall to the floor at your feet, and a second later, he was pushing his cock inside your pussy as you bent a little more.

He planted his hands on the counter next to both of yours, and he ran his thumb gently along the spot near your stitches as he pushed himself deep. You felt his mustache on your ear as he whispered, "Make sure you relax. No high blood pressure for you, Sweetheart. I love you." Then he started fucking you nice and hard as he growled, "You've had a bad attitude all day. You know that? It's about time I fucked it out of you."

"Oh god!" you moaned in excitement. "Please do, Daddy."

He went hard, alternating between talking sweet and scolding you for being bad. "You're so damn hot, I can barely stand it," he crooned. "You'll eat the fucking dinner I made, and you'll say thank you," he grunted, getting you more and more worked up as you gripped at the countertop. "You gonna eat the spaghetti?" he asked, fingers dipping below your belly to find your clit. "Huh?"

"Yes!" you shouted, eyes fluttering closed as he stroked you in slow circles that got faster and tighter. "Yes!"

Bradley's lips were pressed to the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you were treated to the deep, guttural sounds he made as his hips slapped against your butt. "Come on, Baby Girl. Come on." As soon as you felt that first perfect clench of your ograsm, he was coming too. "That's it," he groaned. "That's a good girl."

You were still bumping your body back against his, coming down from your high, when he wrapped both hands around to your belly and asked, "You feel okay? The Nugget's okay?"

"So good," you gasped, finally pulling your hands away from the counter. "Perfect."

You spun in his arms with a smile on your face, and your belly bumped his abs. His cheeks were all flushed, and he looked a little tired, but he was smiling as his cum dripped down your thighs. "You hungry for the spaghetti?" he asked, stroking your cheek with his fingers.

"Starving," you replied, finally sated.

Two minutes later, you were sitting on Bradley's lap at the dining room table with one huge plate of spaghetti and two glasses of water. "I can't believe you made this. It smells incredible, Roo," you praised. 

"Your mom helped a lot," he replied, but you could hear the pride in his voice. "Did you know you're supposed to add salt to the water before you cook pasta?"

You tried not to laugh as you twirled spaghetti onto your fork and took a bite. "This is delicious. And yes, I did know that."

"Is that why it always tasted so much better when you made it? I never did that before today."

God, you loved him so much, it was ridiculous. You'd been cooking for the two of you for years now, but he stepped out of his comfort zone as soon as you fell at work, knowing you couldn't keep doing all of this by yourself. Instead of answering his question, you said, "I could never love anyone else as much as I love you."

"Same," he replied easily. "It's just you and Rosie for me. That's why I spent my afternoon planning out the perfect babymoon."

"You did?" you asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

"Keep eating, and I'll tell you more," he promised, nudging your shoulder before taking a bite for himself. 

Once you were eating again, he said, "As long as you can get a few days off at the end of the month, I want to take you somewhere that is plentiful with hot sauce."

"Del Mar?" you asked, thinking of the hot sauce restaurant and the reservation you missed on your birthday.

He gave you a bland look. "Come on, even I can do better than that."

"I don't know," you said with a laugh, and he nudged you again to take another forkful.

"Beautiful beaches. Spicy food. And a hot sauce making workshop," he whispered, and you nearly dropped your fork.

"You and Jake didn't try to make hot sauce again, did you?" When you thought about the disgusting bottle of spicy vinegar your husband brought home as a treat, you almost wanted to cry. "Please tell me no."

"Sweetheart," he said with a laugh. "I'm talking about Mexico!"

"Oh!" you gasped in excitement.

He looked so pleased with himself as he said, "It's a short plane ride away. We'll just go for a few days. It'll be like our honeymoon in Hawaii all over again, but this time you'll be pregnant in your little red bikini with your rooster tattoo on display."

You bit your lip as his hand settled on your thigh. "You really thought this through."

"I did," he replied. "You wanted a babymoon, and Dr. Morris said it's okay, so you're getting a babymoon. Now let's finish eating so I can check your blood pressure and clean the kitchen."

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

The next few weeks of work were tedious. Your lab mates often treated you like you were made out of porcelain, about to fall over at the slightest inconvenience. Even Bickel got into a bit of a habit of going easy on you before you met with him to tell him you were eating and staying hydrated and could carry your normal workload.

"I'm going to get something to drink," Cat told you one day as you sat in front of your computer working some calculations in the software. "Do you want anything? Maybe a snack?"

"You don't have to be so nice to me right now," you replied. "In fact, please don't."

She scoffed. "Are you trying to insinuate that I'm usually mean to you or something?"

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You're certainly never this nice. And I mean that in a good way. I think I got used to you being a bit rough around the edges most of the time, and I like it that way."

"Who took care of your wedding rings?" she asked. "And who helped you battle your morning sickness in Annapolis?"

"You did," you replied easily. "But you're never this sweet to anyone besides Jeremiah and Jake. The two loves of your life."

She was silent for a beat before she said, "I'll just get you some juice." She left the lab, and you smiled. Jake wanted to get married, but she was putting up a hell of a fight even as she was steadily paying down the debt her husband accrued while Jake paid for Jeremiah's daycare on base.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes as you yawned. Getting Rose on the waitlist for the daycare was something you kept forgetting to take care of, and it really needed to be done. You were leaving for Mexico in just a few days, but there were so many things you wanted to take care of first. Maybe you could ask Bradley to take care of this one agenda item, since he kept insisting your top priority was taking care of yourself. You could practically hear him tell you that the only person he trusted with the loves of his life was you.

By the time he met you in the parking garage at the end of the day, you were yawning nonstop. "Hey, I don't like that," he said right away, jogging the last bit to get to you. "You're really tired, Sweetheart."

"I am," you agreed. "But I ate a salad and an enormous bowl of soup for lunch, and I had two snacks today."

He kissed your forehead as he muttered, "Taking perfect care of my girls. I'll get you home and feed you dinner, and then we can start packing for our trip before you go to bed early. Oh, and I got the Nugget on the waitlist for daycare today."

"Bradley," you moaned, leaning into him. "You're the best husband. And like seriously, I don't even know how to deal with how fucking much that turns me on."

He kissed your forehead again and said, "Okay, we can definitely add sex to the agenda if we stop wasting time and head home immediately."

"I'll get undressed while you drive," you joked, playfully unbuttoning your horrible shirt while he buckled you in.

"Baby Girl, those massive tits could cause an accident," he warned before he groaned. "Holy shit, all I can think about is you wearing that little bikini with your belly and fucking gorgeous tits all over the place. Everyone is going to be looking at me next to you, knowing I got you like this." His hand rested on your bump, and he swallowed hard. "Knowing that's my baby."

"Seriously," you panted. "We need to get home now."

Bradley drove at a respectable speed and made you swear you would eat the dinner he made. Then when you got home, he checked your blood pressure and had you drink a glass of water. It was only at that point that he fucked you into the mattress, really rather lovingly, before he served you dinner.

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

Next up is the babymoon of her dreams. Then Natasha is planning a baby shower that will probably be a nightmare. Then it's time for the Nugget to make her grand entrance! Thanks for reading! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: At breakfast, an important event is announced, and you and cregan spend time in Wintertown, just outside the wall.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: A bit of gossip, bratty brother, denial of feelings, and a jealous man.

𝐰𝐜: 6.9k💀

𝐀/𝐍: I think I'll take a bit of a break after this just because I need to lock in for school :( NGL this is a boring ahhh filler chapter but it’s necessary for pacing☝️🥸 I PROMISE. Or else it would be going way too fast. Trust me. I want it to get freaky already too. There ARE some cute things in there tho.

This may come as a surprise or not a surprise but I feel like I should’ve said this earlier 😭…This series is a Medium-burn. Not SLOW but to get to the best parts, you gotta make it to the end😔

This was originally going to be a one shot and then I thought up a backstory. Then it was 3 parts. And that was a GREATLY underestimated number. Now it’s going to be 6 or 7 parts now so uh…😃 yea…

p.s I did NOT proof read

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

You don't want to fall back into old patterns, let alone complicate your current situation. It hurt you to hurt him the way you did but you have to be strong...and yet, deep down, something inside you yearns for the familiarity of his presence, the warmth of his smile, the feel of his touch…

You lift the lid of the food he brought and your eyes land on a small piece of paper tucked among the food. It's a note, penned in a neat and familiar handwriting. The ink is dark, the words written with a strong and decisive hand.

As you read the words, you can almost hear Cregan's voice in your mind, the deep timbre of his tone echoing in your ears.

It reads:

"I hope the food is to your liking. Sleep well, Princess..."

C.

A note so kind yet you were so cruel.

Tonight was not a night you slept soundly, but rather, a night you pondered your words.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

 The next morning…

Cregan rises from bed and quickly begins readying himself for the day, thinking of the promise you made to spend the day with him. After some time, he finishes preparing and makes his way through the castle, heading towards your chambers, his heart thumping in his chest. A part of him feels wary of what mood you’d be in today.

Dismissive? Angry maybe? Would you make snide remarks or would you be on the more kind and tolerating side?

There is a knocking heavily on your door and you’re awoken. All you can do is groan in bed.

“Who is at my door this early?… its just past first light...”

Cregan’s smile widens at your groggy grumble from within the room and he responds, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

"Who do you think?"

“Just…wait outside. I’m not yet decent.”

He steps back from the door, leaning against the wall as he responds.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

He can hear the faint sounds of movement coming from within the room- sheets being thrown aside, bed creaking lazily, your tired groans and mutterings. You walk over to your wardrobe and take off your shift, quickly replacing it with a dress. It’s the thickest you have, though not near thick enough to shield from the biting cold of your room after the fire in the hearth is burnt down to just embers.

After you put on your dress, you attempt to put on your corset by yourself, but to no avail. As Cregan waits outside, his ears perk up, hearing the sound of you struggling with your corset. His expression turns to one of slight amusement, a hint of a smile on his lips as he imagines you cursing and mumbling, trying and failing to lace it yourself.

“I don't know why I bother with this stupid, silly thing..." you mutter.

His amusement only grows, and he has to bite back an actual chuckle.

"Cregan?! Could you grab someone to help me, quickly!”

Cregan’s ears perk up again as he hears you call from within the room, and he pushes off from the wall and walks up to the door, responding in a quiet voice.

“Sure, but can’t I just-”

He was thinking of coming in and helping you lace it up himself but he cuts himself off as he realizes how improper that would sound, color rising to his cheeks. He clears his throat and responds again, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“Never mind that. I’ll- I’ll go get someone.”

He quickly locates a handmaiden or a maid in the nearby corridors and explains the situation and she nods and follows him back to your room, her own mind undoubtedly wondering what's going on.

As Sara, the handmaiden, walks in, she finds you standing there in your half-laced corset, a look of relief on your face. She can't help the small smirk that graces her own lips as she looks at you, no doubt imagining all the things that could have led to this situation - a hasty morning tryst, possibly a stolen night of passion… but none of those are the case of course.

"Thank you Sara…"

She smiles at you as she takes over the task of lacing up your corset, pulling the strings taught, cinching it tightly.

"My pleasure, Princess. Anything else you need this morning?"

"Could you brush my hair...? Style it perhaps, the Northern way?"

You want to dress the traditional style of their people if you want them to have a reason to favor you. Sara grins and nods quickly, already reaching for the brush on the nearby table.

"Of course, Princess. I'd be honored to style your hair. Just have a seat, and I'll have you looking Northern in no time!"

You take a seat on the chair in front of the vanity, and Sara moves behind you. She gently runs the brush through your hair, as she gathers sections, braiding and twisting it in a traditional style, the ones great ladies of house Stark wore.

Sara hums gently as she works, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Every now and then, she glances up to study her work in the mirror, making sure the braids and knots are in their rightful places.

"You have very lovely hair, Princess. It's a pleasure to style it."

"Thank you it looks lovely."

She finishes the last braid and gives it a final twist, securing it in place with a small pin. She steps back, a satisfied smile on her face as she admires her work, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe and taking in your now-styled hair and laced corset.

"There. All done, Princess. You look like a proper Northerner now!"

You stand from the seat, pleased with the finished product, smiling ear to ear.

"Absolutely gorgeous," she murmurs, her tone filled with approval and appreciation.

She can't help but smile back at your radiant expression, feeling very satisfied with her contribution to your appearance. However, a knowing sparkle in her eye betrays the fact that she's just dying to ask...

"May I ask who it is you're getting all dolled up for, Princess?" Of course she's caught right on.

"Dolled up? Why this is quite casual, is it not?" You get up, crossing the room to put on the pelts too large, given to you by Cregan the previous night.

Sara giggles and rolls her eyes, unable to hide her knowing smile. She follows you across the room as you move to don the pelts, eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

"Oh, of course. I can definitely see how getting your hair braided and fussing over a corset can be 'quite casual', how silly of me Princess!"

"Oh quiet about him. I'd just like to be presentable, in case townspeople see me..."

It's quite an obvious lie. And Sara is clearly not convinced by your flimsy excuse, but decides to tease you a bit more anyway.

"And does this have anything to do with the fact that Cregan is waiting outside, looking oh so impatient to see you?"

Right on the money.

"No...A Princess should look the part at all times, is all..."

"Of course, Princess..."

"Id planned this outfit before I came North. So yes it's pure coincidence."

No royal ever packs all of their own bags for long trips so clearly, another lie. She looks you up and down one more time, taking in the complete picture of you in your Northern-style hair, corset, and pelts.

"Well, I'll admit, Princess, you look absolutely stunning. I don't think Cregan will be able to keep his eyes off you." She winks playfully, laughing at the heat creeping onto your cheeks.

"Sara Shh!! He's right outside the door!!"

Sara laughs and puts a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her giggles and responding in a hushed whisper.

"You're right. Wouldn't want the poor Northern Lord to overhear us speaking of his obvious affections, now would we?"

"Are you trying to give me away? Quiet!”

Sara laughs again, unable to contain her amusement at your flustered state. She nods and responds in a mock-serious tone.

"As you wish, Princess. My lips are sealed. I'll refrain from mentioning the Lord of Winterfell's pining heart. At least when he's close by."

Sara watches you leave, and she can't help but feel a pang of sympathy and amusement at your flustered state and denial, knowing full well the truth. You like him just as he likes you, though, you hide it better than he does.

"Have a lovely day, Princess," she calls out after you, tone dripping with sarcastic sweetness.

 You just roll your eyes as, you often do.

Sara laughs heartily at your eye-roll, enjoying that she's managed to ruffle your feathers a bit. She gives you one last wink and watches as you walk out of the oom, eyes following you all the way to the door.

Cregan is leaned against the wall, waiting patiently for you to finish getting ready. He hears the sound of the door opening, and he looks up, his eyes widening when he sees you emerge from the room. His gaze slowly trails over you, taking in the sight of your braided Northern-style hair and the fit of the corset beneath the pelts that seem to swallow you whole.

“Shall we go to breakfast?”

He nods, unable to tear his gaze away.

"Yes...yes, of course. Then to the market after." he manages to choke out, voice slightly hoarse. He walks next to you in silence, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach tied in knots. He can't really bring himself to speak, mind still filled with thoughts from the previous day. 

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, but  your expression is neutral, tension in your shoulders. The silence hangs heavily between the two of you, an unsettling reminder of the argument from yesterday.

The silence is awkward and neither of you want to talk.

Cregan steals glances at you as you walk, and unbeknownst to you, he's still fixed on the way youv'e readied yourself this morning.

Thats how she'd be dressed of she was the lady of-

He stops the thought in its path before he could even finish it, taking a deep breath as to not get flustered.

As you descend the stairs of the great keep and step out into the yard, eyes turn towards the two of you. A few Stark guardsmen standing nearby do a double-take at your appearance. Some of them whisper to each other.

Cregan notices the looks and glares, a hint of possessiveness flaring in his eyes as he guides you towards the entrance of the great hall.

He keeps one hand on your lower back, fingers splayed over the pelts. The noise and activity of the room die down somewhat as the people inside catch sight of you, many of them whispering and murmuring amongst themselves.

“Remove your hand please…” You whisper.

He looks a little hurt, a tinge of disappointment in his voice when he responds, trying his best to act unbothered.

"Sorry. I...sorry. I forgot myself for a moment…"

To your surprise, everyone in the hall stands in your presence.

“No no please, be seated.”

The Lord opposite you hurriedly stands to pull out your chair, practically tripping over himself to do so. The rest of the Lords and Ladies take their seats once more. He's clearly a little flustered by your appearance, eyes roaming over your face with a look in his eye that you cant quite place.

Cregan watches the lord, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. He can feel his possessive nature flaring up again, not liking the way the he's shamelessly ogling you right before his eyes.

Not that cregan hadn't been ogling you himself as well.

"Thank you. you are too kind!”

The Lord blushes slightly at your words, his eyes still taking in the sight of you in pelts and braids. He stutters, his voice hoarser than before as he responds..

"It's- it's nothing, my lady. It's an honor, truly, to host a guest as fine as yourself here at Winterfell."

“It’s my honor entirely. Winterfell is very beautiful!”

The Lord practically beams with pride at your compliment. The few other lords and ladies gathered at the table also nod in agreement, clearly flattered that a Southron princess is complimenting their home.

Cregan can't help but roll his eyes at the lord's reaction, silently amused and somewhat annoyed at the man's obvious attempts at currying your favor.

Sounds of forks and cutlery clattering against plate fills the hall as everyone eats.

Maybe you could use this to get back at Cregan…

The idea forms quickly in your mind, a small smile slowly spreading across your lips. You play into the lord's ego, leaning in slightly and giving him an appreciative smile, your eyes sparkling with charming sweetness.

"You flatter me, my Lord," you murmur, your voice lower and velvety-soft.

"Could I ask you something, princess?"

"Yes?”

He leans in slightly closer, as if sharing a secret, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"I do hope you won't think me too forward in asking, but...do you have plans for this evening?  

You take a moment to pretend to gather your thoughts, letting the Lord bask in his excitement and anticipation. You glance across the table, meeting Cregan's eyes for a split second before looking away again.

“I do not. Why do you ask?”

The Lord is clearly flustered by your closeness and your sweet demeanor as he responds.

"Hunting parties today, my princess. We- we have a few set to head out to the Wolfswood a few hours before noon."

“For what purpose? Is there an event or something of the sort?” 

"Yes, there is a feast this evening in your honor. It's tradition here to hunt when there is a...guest of importance on an extended stay at Winterfell. It is considered good fortune and-"

Cregan cuts in, unable to refrain from interrupting once more, his eyes fixed on yours as he adds,

"And an opportunity to display one's skills to our guest. To prove one's worth, as it were."

Just the response you wanted. Jealousy.

“That’s a similar tradition we do in the South also, except it’s for the King usually.”

The Lord nods in agreement, his heart practically beating out of his chest, bursting at your apparent interest in him.

"Quite true, my lady. It is a custom that goes back centuries here in the North. And we take great pride in honoring our guests appropriately."

“Well let us make this a bit more interesting for the people, shall we?”

The room falls silent as you stand up and tap your glass gently, all eyes turning to you, including Cregan's. The lords and ladies at the table watch you expectantly, wondering what you're about to say.

“Good morning, lords and ladies. I’ve been made aware of the feast to come this evening in mine and my brother's honor,”

Nods and murmurs of acknowledgement come from the other lords and ladies around the table. They all seem eager to know more about the upcoming feast, clearly looking forward to the celebration.

“I’d like to pose a challenge for those participating later at noon…Whoever brings me the largest game shall win my hand at the dance this evening!!”

There are gasps and low murmurs of surprise from the lords and ladies around the table at your declaration. Many of them are clearly taken aback, and a few look even envious at the prospect of being your partner at the dance.

Now that’s something worth raising a glass too.

A few of the lords and ladies around the table immediately raise their cups, clearly excited and motivated by your offer. They all toast to the challenge, already making silent plans on how they can outdo the others and win your favor.

You take your seat again as the lords and ladies around the table continue their conversations, most of them now talking about the upcoming challenge and the possibility of winning your favor at tonight's feast. Cregan sits across from you, his eyes fixed on your face, a mixture of irritation and disappointment in his gaze.

You question him, feigning obliviousness.

“What’s wrong?”

Cregan's eyes narrow slightly as he looks at you across the table, his jaw clenched.

"You know exactly what's wrong. You're offering your hand as a prize to the first hunter to bring you a big stag. What game are you playing at?"

“It’s just a bit of fun, lighten up!”

Cregan's eyes flash with irritation as he grits his teeth, clearly not amused by your nonchalance.

"Just a bit of fun, is it? Offering yourself up like a prize to be won? Can't you see how dangerous and foolish you're being?"

“Do not argue at your own table with your guest. It is impolite and rude, Lord Stark”

Cregan's jaw clenches tightly at your rebuke, a flicker of anger in his eyes. But he holds his tongue, reluctantly swallowing back the retort that nearly spills from his lips. He knows you're right, but it doesn't make him any less angry about the situation.

He forces a tight smile.

"Yes, of course, my princess. Forgive me for my lapse in courtesy."

You begin to talk to the lord beside you again. Cregan watches from across the table as he continues to talk your ear off, his eyes fixed on you. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to bite back the words that threaten to spill from his mouth, resisting the urge to snap at the man for hogging your attention.

He stabs at the food on his plate like an angry child.

“I did not catch your name. Lord…?”

The Lord blushes slightly at your question, clearly flattered that you're showing an interest in him.

"Oh, forgive me, my princess. How foolish of me to forget such an important detail. I am Lord Harwin Flint, the son and heir to Lord Cedric Flint of Widow's Watch."

“Quite a long way you are from Widows Watch.”

"Indeed, my lady. Winterfell is not the closest place to my home, but the Starks are an ancient and respected family, and I’d feel honored to be in attendance at such a splendid feast."

“Of course,” you smile before taking another bite of your food.

*****

Soon after, breakfast concludes.

The lords and ladies around the table begin to stand up, signaling the end of the morning meal. A few of them cast glances in your direction, clearly still thinking about the challenge you proposed earlier.

Cregan stands up as well, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on you as you rise from your seat to leave the great hall. He walks beside you in silence for a few moments, eyes occasionally stealing glances in your direction. The air between you is thick with tension, though he makes no attempt to break it yet.

“What is it?"

Cregan glances at you, surprise briefly flitting across his face that you seem to have noticed his subtle glances. He considers you for a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

"That young Lord Cedric. He seemed rather... taken with you."

His tone is neutral, but there's a hint of jealousy or possessiveness in his words.

"Well I am a Princess so..."

His jaw clenches slightly at your words, his jealousy evident in his expression. His eyes flash with a hint of anger as he responds.

"True, but the way he was looking at you... it was more than simple admiration."

He pauses, his voice dropping lower as he continues.

"He didn't just see a princess. He saw a woman to admire and possibly court."

"Oh nonsense-"

"No, I'm serious. I saw the way he kept glancing at you, the way he blushed like a boy when you thanked him. He was smitten, Princess."

He stops walking, turning to face you directly, his expression dark and intense.

"You can't tell me you didn't notice."

“Were you not staring at me too…?” I tease “for quite a long time might I add…”

"I was merely observing... as any lord does when a royal guest is in his domain."

He takes a step closer towards you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"And you're deflecting. We're talking about Lord Cedric, not me."

“Observing…I see…” I say sarcastically.

Cregan's smirk widens at your sarcastic tone, obviously amused. He takes another step closer to you, reducing the distance between you even further. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his voice now a low rumble.

"Oh, yes, 'observing'. I was observing your every movement, your every expression, your every reaction to Lord Cedric's attention."

He leans in slightly.

"And I didn't like what I saw."

"My conversation with Lord Cedric is not for you to like or dislike. Matters of the Princess of the realm are no matters for that of the Warden of the North"

"You're right. You are the Princess of the realm, and I am the Warden of the North. However, that does not mean I cannot have opinions or feelings regarding your interactions with my men."

He pauses, his gaze flickering over you for a moment before he continues.

"Lord Cedric is young and inexperienced. He doesn't appreciate the significance of your presence here- "

"We will speak of this no more. I did not come here to listen about how you don’t like when lords fancy me.”

Cregan's expression tenses at your firm tone, his jaw working with suppressed frustration. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he responds, his voice taut and strained.

"As you wish, Princess. But just remember, the North is a place of bluntness and honesty. Here, we say what we mean and mean what we say."

He takes another step towards you, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues, his voice low and intense.

"And I mean it when I say that I'm not fond of seeing you with other men."

You sigh, annoyed and walk away.

Cregan watches as you walk ahead, hands balling into fists as he tries to control his emotions.

He quickens his pace to catch up with you, strides long and purposeful, closing the distance between you in just a few steps. When he reaches your side, he reaches out and gently grasps your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn abruptly.

Cregan's grip on your arm tightens for a moment before he releases you, his eyes locking onto yours. His expression is a mix of anger and something else – something you can't quite place, but it makes your heart beat a little faster.

"You can't just walk away from me like that."

“Then walk faster.” You pull your arm away.

For a moment, he looks as though he's about to grab your arm again and pull you back, but he restrains himself, letting out a frustrated huff instead.

"So, you're going to act like a petulant child now?" He asks, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"I am simply protecting my sanity and I will not allow you to destroy it. Not again."

Cregan's expression darkens at your words, his jaw tensing as he recalls the history between you. His eyes narrow, the memory of past hurts and disagreements stirring up his anger.

"I destroyed your sanity? Pray tell, how I managed to do that?" he retorts, his voice sharp and filled with bitter sarcasm.

“Can we not talk about this right now? It’s far too early in the morning.”

Cregan lets out a frustrated huff, his patience clearly wearing thin. He takes another step towards you, closing the gap between you even further. His gaze is intense and unwavering as he responds, his voice low and filled with an underlying hint of anger.

"You can't just bring up such a serious accusation and then refuse to elaborate. You're acting like a child."

You stop in your tracks suddenly. “You will do well to remember who you are speaking to. I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to. So save your interrogation for a later date.”

Cregan stops walking as well, his eyes narrowing at your response. His jaw clenches as he bristles at your words, his anger flaring up once again.

"And you would do well to remember who I am as well," he retorts, his voice filled with a hint of condescension.

"I am the Lord of the North and the Warden of this castle. You may be a princess, but you are a guest here. It would do you well to remember that, and show me the respect I am due."

“I don’t owe you anything-“

Cregan's anger spikes at your impudent response.

"You don't owe me anything, huh? You come into my castle, eat my food, expect me to house and protect you, and you don't think you owe me anything?"

“I didn’t ask you to-“

"I offered you my hospitality, and in return, all I ask is a little respect."

You take a breath, sighing because you know he’s sort of right. He is providing you. But it wasn’t your choice to come here in the first place.

“Fine then if you’re so desperate for it” you mutter, just to shut him up.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance still tense as he responds, his voice now calmer but still laced with a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh, gracious of you. I didn't know asking for basic decency was such a challenge for a Princess such as yourself."

You simply roll your eyes as you always do.

As you continue walking through the streets of the Wintertown, the people pause in their activities, their heads turning to watch you as you pass. Some stare openly, their curiosity and surprise evident on their faces as they whisper to each other. Others bow their heads reverently, their gazes filled with awe and admiration.

Cregan walks beside you, his gaze constantly flickering from you to the people around you, watching their reactions with a mixture of pride and possessiveness.

There was no time to keep glowering when you’re supposed to be looking the part so you quickly change your expression.

You give a polite smile and the people respond to your smile with smiles of their own, some even offering timid waves or friendly greetings as you pass by.

Your friendly waves and acknowledgments only seem to deepen the impact you have on the people around you. A few of the women even whisper amongst themselves, their eyes flicking towards you with a mixture of envy and admiration. Men watch you with respectful gazes, clearly noticing your beauty and regality.

The aroma of various stalls fills the air – the scents of freshly baked bread, exotic spices, and roasting meats.

Your irritation slowly starts to subside as you take in the vibrant atmosphere around you. Children laugh and play nearby, their youthful energy filling the air. The smell of street food beckons your taste buds, and the scent of fresh herbs and spices hangs heavily in the air.

Cregan glances over at you, noticing the way your face softens as you watch the children play. Though he tries to hide it by quickly redirecting his gaze.

Pussy.

Merchants and vendors take notice of you and Cregan and offer you various goods and trinkets, hoping to win your favor. Some present intricate jewelry, others, beautifuly crafted knives, and some offer the finest produce from local farms. They seem eager to please you and you cant help but take their gifts and buy their many things.

And Cregan, well he cant help but find your kindness towards his people a desirable trait, So much so, he almost forgets the reason for his foul mood.

Your mood has brightened with your now-many things in your hands, and you stumble upon a dress. Its made of fine materials, intricate details and its black and rich red color catching your attention. Cregan follows behind you as you approach it,

"Ma'am, who made this magnificent gown? It's just lovely! and these gloves as well? The shoes even? Theres a whole set?!"

The shopkeeper, ancolder woman witha friendly smiles, steps forward to greet you. She beans at your compliments, face lighting up with pride.

"Thank you Princess," she says. "My husband and I are the seamster and seamstress who crafted this dress. The finest kmaterials money can buy. The gloves and shoes are his work also!"

"How much for the whole set?" You see another fabulous dress "Oh and that one there too,"

The shopkeeper moves quickly to fetch the dresses and present them to you, holding them up so you can see the front and the back. "Excelent choice milady," she says witha smile "Teh set of the first dress, with the gloves and shoes will be...lets see...Thats 215silver stags." She tunrs her attention to the second dress. "As for the second dress, that one will be 150 silver stags."

You think on it for a second before deciding. You practically throw your bags onto Cregan to take out your coin purse. "Oh would it really kill to buy a few more dresses? I think not. I'll take the other two dresses there and the necklance and the-" At this point, youre buying out they entire stock.

He eyes widen and she quickly fetches the other dresses, the necklace and a few more acessories, presenting them to you. "Anything else you'd like...?

"One last thing! The-" Cregan gently puts a hand on you arm, interrupting you sentence. He casts a glance at the growing pile of bags and items you are to purchase on the shop's counter, obviously overwhelmed.

"No more," He groans with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Hes already suffering enough from the many bags hes having to carry. "Youv'e already got enough to fill a small carriage-"

"Here hold this."

Cregan lets out an exasperated sigh as you hand him yet another item to carry, casting a tired glance at you, eyes silently questioning why you need so many thing.

You turn back to the Shopkeeper. "Im afraid this is all I can get...for now. If it were upto me id buy your entire stall, but i must heed the advice of your Lord before he collapses."

He smile faulters when Cregan shoots her a stern glare, warning her not to test his limits any further, sighing as he adjusts the bags in his arms once again.

"Lets go already," He orders firmly, gestering for you to walk ahead.

You give 4 gold dragons "For you and your husband. May You make the most beautiful dresses."

The shopkeepers eyes widen in disbelief, mouth agape as she looks at the hefty payment in her hand. She looks up at you, eyes brimming with tears and gratitude. "Thank you, milady," she stammers, ver voice trembling slightly. "You are too generous. i will pass this along to my hisband, and we will surely amke many more beautiful dresses in your honr."

"I do hope so. Good day to you miss." You take the box and teh small bag with the jewelry meanwhile Cregan is still annoyed about being relegated to the status of your personal pack horse.

Except you don't ride him like one. I mean, maybe you will-

He hadn't realised that something as mundane as shopping to brighten your mood so much. But he can't deny the genuine happiness on your face and he find himself unable to stay anooyed for too long. He casts a sidelong glance at you, observing your joyous expression as you carry the dresses and other items.

By the time you reached the gate, cregan almost couldnt hold it any longer. He looked positively frazzled and his breath comes in short puffs, face flushed with exertion.

You still stride ahead and he follows after you, steping heavily, silently pleading for compassion an undrstanding. You seem oblivious to his struggle. That or, you simply dont care. People give amused glances, finding the sight of him lugging your items aound quite comical.

The guards at the hate cant help but let out quiet chuckles, amused by the sight of Cregan struggling and he asks them for help. He feels a pang of embarassment at having to ask for their assistance.

"Of course can give you a hand." He hoists them over his shoulder and his friend still fights to keep a straight face, the supressed laughter threatening to burst out at any moment.

Creganhands over a couple of bags and boxes, grateful for the assistance, but still feeling a bit humiliated at the specticle hes become.

Reaching the keep, you hold open the door. "Up to my chambers, thank you."

Cregan nods mutely, body aching and cheeks flushed from exhertion, and he looks completely drained. He struggles up the stairs, following you to your chambers.

"Just a little more ways away."

The guards enter your chambers aswell, still trying not to laugh. You let out a little chuckle yourself and its not helping at all.

Cregan casts a resentfull look as you do so. He sets down the bags and packages, back aching. He lets out a sigh of relief and rolls his shoulders in attempts to loosen the tension in his mucles.

He collapses into the chair beside your bed to relax his body

"Uh, excuse you."

"What?" he asks with a tinge of irritation

"You can relax in your own room."

He rises from the comfortable chair, departing to retire to his own chambers. He had hoped for a moment respite after carrying all of your things, but he cant blame you for wanting him gone.

you walk towars the door, opening it for him. Hes muttering under his breath, dicontent quite obvious in his tone. Something about "Women" and "Too many bags" as he walks past you.

After he laves, you begin to undress in order to try on your newly purchased ones.

That same moment Cregan leaves your room, Jace emerges from his. He observes his disheveled state, out of breath and hair ruffled. Jace then unexpectedly pushes open the door without knocking, anger evident on his face.

You almost yelp, covering your body with your dress. He takes in your half state of undress and it only makes him angrier.

"What the FUCK Jace?"

"What the fuck to you too, what were you doing with Cregan??" he asks, voice coming out in a low, heated tone.

"What are you talking about?? You cant just barge in here like that!"

His expression hardens, shoulders tese and jaw clenched. "I saw him leaving your room. You wanna tell me what the hell is going on between you and him?"

"Lower your tone, nothing is going on, he only-"

Jace scoffs, disbelief evident on his face. "Only what? Why was he in here in the first place?"

"First of all, dont speak to me like that young man. You speak with respect or your turn your ass right back around and leave. Secondly, He'd carried all of my bags from the market for me. and turn around"

He just rolls his eyes, and faces towards the door so you can put your dress back on "He carried your stuff from the market? And that warrented him being in your room?"

"I asked him to bring it to my room so yes."

He found your explanation unsatisfactory and crosses his arms. "And that required being in your room while your'e undressing? Really??" he turns back around

"Do you even hear yourself right now? Why would I have undressed while he was in the room-" The realization of what he was implying suddenly dawns on you.

"I thought..." he trails off awkwardly.

Oh gods he think we really- "I didnt fuck him if thats what you're asking, alright? Gods..." your cheeks heat up at the words coming out of your mouth. Well thats definately something you never saw yoruself saying.

You might even wish that what you said wasn't true.

"I wasn't saying you did-"

"Yes you were."

He lets out a sigh and reluctantly meets your gaze. "Alright maybe I was, but can you blame me? seeing him come out of your room while you were undressing... what else was I supposed to think?"

"Youre supposed to think rationally. If you wanted me to send you home so badly, you coudve just said so."

His expression falters and his features soften as he realizes the weight behind your words. "I dont want you to send me away," he says quietly, voice barely above a whisper, "Im just..i dont know, i overreacted."

"You keep doing this and I'm sick and fucking tired of it. I shouldn't have to threaten you for you to behave yourself..." you scold him with a disapointed tone. You thought he'd fixed his out of line behavior.

His shoulders sag, expression one of embarassment. "I overstepped I'm sorry..."

"Sorry isn't enough, this needs to change sooner or later. If you have concerns, you let me know, respectfully."

Jace nods, his head lowered in genuine remorse. "I will..." he promises.

"Go to your room."

He turns to leave, shoulders slumped in shame.

"And on more thing."

"yes...?"

"There is a feast tonight. I expect you to be cleaned up and presentable within the next few hours."

He lets out a small sigh. "Alright. I will. Anything else?"

"Knock next time. Please." He nods a third time and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

"Gods that boy..." you mutter to youself. You make sure the door is locked this time as you undress again. "Hes so rash sometimes..." Youre still replaying the scene in your mind.

You continue to undress, shedding your outer layers until youre left in just your undergarments. Your top exposes a generous amount of skin and leaves very little to the imagination.

Knock knock knock.

"What do you want now Jace???"

There is a moment of confusion as you assumed it was Jace on the other side of the door. You call out again, your question lingering in the air, until the person on the other side replies.

"It's Cregan."

oh. "Yes?"

to your surprise he asks, "May I come in?"

"No I am not decent yet... what is it?"

cregan sesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by your responce. he lets out a small cough, trying to maintain his composure. "Forgive me, I didnt lean to intrude. I...I just wanted to check in on you." He talks in a hushed tone now. "I heard you...arguing with Jace."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

You let out a sigh and so does he.

"I was going to, but then i heard the commotion in your room and I couldn't help but worry."

"How much did you hear...?"

He pauses for a moment, mind racing as he tries to decide whether or not to be truthful. You were worried he heard the part where you said-

"I overheard most of it..."

Fuck.

"I know. it wsnt a plesant conversation to listen to."

He shakes his head to get the thoughts out of his mind. They're becoming dangerously more frequent for both of you.

"Well how much is 'most of it' ?"

Cregan leans against the doorframe, voice more quiet as he recounts what he had overheard. "You scolding Jace for barging in and jumping to conclusions about us... And.." Oh no here we go. He hesitates for a moment, voice getting even quieter.

"I heard you discussing the...less the appropriate implications he made about our...activities" He blushes furiously and awkwardly clears his throat. You silently cover your face on the over side of the door.

"Im so sorry you had to hear that..."

He shakes his head, trying to wave off your apology with a nonchalant gesture. But the blush on his face betrays his true feelings. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Its...Its alright," He assurs you "I shouldn't have listened in the first place."

"No we were too loud. Thanks for checking in on me." You reply

Cregan nods, his embarassment slowly fading as your words sink in. "Of course,"

You silently scream and punch the air, cursing Jace in your mind. Thinking back to those...activities, you blush too. You know he heard what you said.

"Okay.. Well um...Good luck on the hunt then. Go catch something big for me."

"You know I will," He replies, trying to sound confident. "I'll bring home the biggest buck you've ever seen."

"If you say so..." you taunt.

He grins, conficence rising at your doubtful tone. He cant let that go unchallenged. "Oh I do say so. I'll get that dance, just you wait."

"Off you go then."

As Cregan heads off to the stables, he can't shake the feeling of your prescence from his mind. The thought of you and the implications made still lingered, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Maybe the things you said you hadn't done with Cregan, you wish you had.

He really just doesn't want any other lord to end up dancing with you. The image of another man, holding you in his arms makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. His mind fills with the image of him dancing with you and his heart quickens.

But then his thoughts take a more intimate turn and his imagination spirals out of control. Him holding you close, bodies pressed together, an embrace that borders on indecent. He can almost feel your warmth just thinking about it.

Cregan knows he shouldn't be thinking such things but he cant help it. That image of you, so close yet so far from his grasp, is consuming his mind and burning in his core like a raging fire.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐀/𝐍: SUMMARY: THEY JUST KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER. I'm sorry for the boring filler guys (and for dissapearing) 😔 see you at part 4 when the feast happens. At the end of the feast things get a little heated xp

Don’t be afraid to leave me a suggestion in my inbox or the comments. And if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, just sign up for my tag list. The link is at the top of the post!

@beebeechaos @iv-vee @aemondwhoresworld @6ternalsun @obscure-beauty @cregansfourthwife @msmarvelknight @kingdomzeldaquest @littlebirdgot @squidscottjeanseans @jellybeanstacey0519 @r-3dlips @fakem0net @shiggynuggiez @deemee3 @melsunshine @lipgloss05 @cherryheairt @lovevouuu @darlingcharling-blog @pearldaisy @allexlacazette

[whimsicalnancy]

hey, ⭐girl :)

I saw your void success story post, first of all congrats! Secondly, I was wondering if you’d be open to sharing the subliminal you made with all of us? It honestly sounds so powerful and helpful.

& of course, I completely understand if you can’t share it, as it might include personal affirmations or questions. If that’s the case, would you maybe consider making a custom subliminal instead? Something specifically tailored for me? I’d be more than happy to pay for your time and effort, I know you mentioned it took you over 2 hours to create yours, and I truly respect that. No pressure at all, but if you’re open to it (which I really hope you are!), I’d love to know the details like pricing and how the whole process works.

Thank you, either way!

thankyou! and first of all, i genuinely feel so honoured that you trust me enough to ask for something this personal. and actually… not just you, a lot of you have been asking me the same thing lately. at first, i wasn't sure if should or i wanna do it or not but maybe i can? if this can help you even a fraction of how much it helped me, then yes, i’d love to.

but you know what? you can definitely make it yourself too. it’s not that hard. you just need to prepare your subliminal, come up with the right interview-style questions, write your answers, record everything clearly, and then piece it all together. it’s not rocket science… but it does take time, effort, and lots of editing.

but if that feels like a lot, i’m more than happy to make it for you and yes, this service is open for anyone else who needs it too.

— custom “interview subliminal”

here’s how it’ll work if you’d like a custom subliminal from me:

1. message me on Instagram

find me at @/whimsical.subliminal and just send a ⭐ star emoji so i know you’re from Tumblr.

2. i'll ask you a few questions to personalize your subliminal, so be ready with the following info:

• what exactly are you manifesting?

• your name, to include in the affirmations (optional)

• basic birth info like date of birth, time of birth, place of birth, for astrology based insights (optional)

this helps me pull your natal chart, which reveals your core placements (Sun, Moon, Rising, etc.) and deeper subconscious patterns. to help me create affirmations for you accordingly.

• what are your biggest limiting beliefs related to what you're trying to manifest?

3. next, i’ll send you a few questions.

you’ll need to record and answer each of them thoughtfully, in your own words. Take your time, breathe deep, and answer honestly. if anything feels confusing, we can talk it out. after you are done, you have to send the recordings to me.

4. pricing

i haven't thought about this honestly. i’m still figuring this part out, but anything around $25–$35 would be okay. i want it to stay accessible while still honoring the energy and time that goes into making something so specific.

5. payment

i won't accept any payment upfront. you’ll only pay once your subliminal is ready. when it's done, i’ll let you know, you pay, and I’ll send it to you immediately. no complications or worries on both sides.

price reductions may be considered for those who genuinely need it.

6. your privacy

everything you share is 100% safe and confidential. your voice clips, personal info, and answers will never be shared or reposted. any recordings you send will only be used in your subliminal and deleted from my device afterward. i take your trust seriously.

important note:

i'll be only making these custom subs for a very limited number of people.

my own sub took over 2 hours to make (and not gonna lie, it got a little frustrating at times lol), so I really want to keep this intentional, powerful, and not something I burn out from. hope y'all understand.

[comicaurora]

Out of curiosity, how far ahead are you on the comic? I mean, you must have it all planned and written out, but I imagine that you are drawing the future of Aurora even while we're reading it.

So is Arc 2 already illustrated and ready for upload while you're on like Arc 5 or something? I'm by no means undermining your need for a break; I'm shocked that you've been uploading continuously for over 4 years at this point. I'm just interested to know how long it takes a person to make something this great. And also if you change any details in the final edit?

Basically: what's the workflow like?

Also I think you low-key inspired me to pick up painting as a hobby. I'm ready to pour so much money into creating things that I know I'll hate. :)

God, arc 5? That's a very generous assessment of how fast I can draw!

Typically, when the comic is updating regularly, I keep a buffer of 10 to 20 completed pages. Right now, in the interest of taking a break, the buffer is 0 completed pages.

Chapter 1 of Arc 2 is completely storyboarded, meaning it's sketched out, the dialog is all mostly finalized barring last-minute rephrasements, etc. It can be read in its current form, it just looks unpretty. In fact, just for fun, here's a sneak peek!

In the next month I'll go through and finalize as many pages from this chapter as possible - which means locking down the panel borders, fleshing out the backgrounds, lining, shading, coloring, polish, etc. - which will be the process of building up a new buffer for when the comic starts back up again in January. During that time, I'll also be storyboarding Chapter 2 and as much of the following parts as I can manage.

I have the next several chapters and sub-arcs planned out in loose timelines - event A happens at location B leading to consequences C and D, stuff like that. Chapter 2, being the closest, is a little more fleshed-out, with a more detailed bullet-pointed timeline and various character ideas I've had that might or might not make it into the final version.

What exactly the chapter breakdown is going to look like is a little more complicated. Initially I'd planned for Chapter 1 to be low-stakes downtime and Chapter 2 to quickly kick off the high-octane adventure again, but when I started bullet-pointing out the stuff I wanted to do in Chapter 2, I ended up with a big pile of slower-paced character moments I thought were well worth exploring, so the runtimes might stretch a little.

Translating those brainstormed notes into storyboards and dialog is what I would classify as the "writing" part of this process. It happens at an erratic pace largely determined by the whims of whatever muse decides to get me in a headlock that day; sometimes I go weeks with no storyboarding progress, sometimes I hammer out fifteen pages in one day.

It's kinda like weaving, to me. The soon-to-be-arriving parts of the story are the most finalized, the most densely woven. A little ways beyond that, things get looser - some patterns may be locked down, but the actual work that'll hold it together hasn't been done yet. And in the far-flung future arcs, it's just the basic bones of the story and a pile of the threads I've planned to use. I know the shape of it, but in order for it to be fun and engaging for me to make it, I need to give myself room to be creative when I'm putting the whole thing together.

I actually have a file called the "Toolbox" that contains every random character or subplot idea I've had, and sometimes when I'm debating where to go with a chunk of story, I'll crack it open and scan through to see if anything jumps out begging to be used. Lotta fun stuff in there that may or may not ever see the light of day. Dropping stuff in the Toolbox is one of the most fun and freeing parts of the process for me!

[regular-gnome]

hey..

at what point do collectors opt to turn things from puppets to scrolls? I feel like turning an entire living creature into [a piece of paper] is very complicated, while turning them into simple puppets is easier because they keep all the same parts, just simplified and wood?

It is! It depends on the person's proficiency and understanding of the mechanism regarding when and how they change the creature. Once someone gets good at it, the creature can be transformed into a lifeless object without it dying in the process, and they will move on to more complex and efficient ways.

The way I see it, archiving is a form of information compression and storage—and there is A LOT of information. When looking at Earth creatures we have everything from single-cell bacteria to whales that range up to 100 quadrillion cells, all with different sizes. The smallest single-cell critter is 0.3 μm, while the largest single cell is an ostrich egg that can get to 18 cm. So it's not just noting "a cell"—there's also a lot of information about the cell content, size, the DNA, current water, and oxygen levels, what protein it contains and how much. Then there are spatial dimensions. (While we can consider there being more, especially in fiction, I’m sticking to three; trying to visualize four fills me with frustration and existential dread xD) Every cell has its place in space in relation to the others, and all the contents' relations are also important. If, suddenly, all histones materialize inside a mitochondria instead of the nucleus, we can have a problem. Additionally, physical and chemical processes gotta be considered. There's electricity powering our brains, hearts, running nerves, air in airways traveling to lungs, chemical signals traveling between synapses that also need to be accounted for. So, you have all the contents in space, their vectors, and building blocks. Thats a ton to save. This information has to be compressed to be preserved in an organized manner while also remaining lossless so that when returned to its original shape, it's as it was. Not even mentioning that in intelligent beings, there are also minds to take care of. Jellyfish might be fine after 100 years in a static void, but a human? Yhhhhh.

I think the mechanism would work by saving information in intangible magic and assigning it to a physical medium—be it a statue, doll, book, or scroll. If it is physical and can carry information, it can be used. We can argue the mind is part of the soul, or it is a biochemical process, but the fact is nobody really knows for sure what it is and Im not a theolog, so for the sake of this universe, I'll say it's something that occupies the same space magic does and is influenced by chemical processes, meeeeaning it can also be tricked by them. And the magic.

The first degree of preservation would be spells that only change the material but keep all shapes and info in place. This wouldn't require much thought while executing and could be "automated" or worse, taught to mortals (if they have enough magic to power the spell), like petrification or changing someone into wood, metal, or any other solid material. It's not perfect, if the structure is damaged, the spatial information is damaged too. Breaking is one thing, but imagine if the statue melts.

The next step would be assigning objects with some compression and change, like toys and dolls. I feel like there would need to be a system like a content library, so not every single atom is saved each time, but chemical structures like nucleotides in DNA (the ATGC thingies) would just have a shortcut. Larger repeating patterns could also be assigned their own id to save data, and it would slowly stack up. While things are written in intangible magic form and anchored to the medium, the medium can be somewhat customized, like the decorations the Collector added to the dolls. The mind, running in controlled magic, can also be affected, as we saw with Collie trying to scare them and Luz’s dream. On the spell keeping the preserved critter stable has a link to what shortcut it uses so with countless diffrent worlds and structres it wouldnt mix up.

Then we go further into compression, reducing size and dimensions until we reach a point where one axis is almost entirely removed, and we end up with a scroll. Then there are other things—creatures saved as amber miniatures, snow globes, scrolls, or drawings, sometimes purely to annoy the sibling that has to deal with the creature in unhandy form. A more permanent binding would be in a book that can contain a bunch of different animals. Rebinding for long-term preservation is the Curator’s job.

Looking at Earth creatures, eucariotic life shares ancestry with some ancient bacteria that decided to rebel and started to cooperate, so we share similarities even with distant organisms in some strutures since they come from each other. So when it comes to preserving whole populations with relations, the library of compression doesn’t have to be separate for every single animal or plant. For each section of the archive, there would be a common library of building blocks, and scrolls being somewhat separate carrying the exact instructions for body arrangement and the soul/mind/the part that makes them alive attached.

Next is unpacking the information. I think this requires the ability to interpret and recreate what was saved that mortals lack. While they couldn't really unpetrify others, a collector could (assuming the mind hadn’t deteriorated into a husk). In the case of an automated spell, I think it would result in a very lossy transmutation—like a jpg losing pixels, the creature might lose like heart funtion. The Collector's spell also looked temporary or incomplete since an influx of other types of magic (like in Amity or Raine’s case) was able to push back on it. That might also be why they were conscious in the form they were in. Not meant for long just enough to take them to archive in normal conditions. When a creature is heavily compressed, it needs external force to rebuild, as it's essentially written fully in magic. That’s what I think happened to the Owl Beast. Lilith released it from the medium, but since it wasn’t fully rebuilt, it being a magic form attached itself to a magic source.

SO YEAH, its a process that takes quite a while for them to master and it comes with experience. But when experience is based on life it often makes it hard to practice so those with less empathetic approach master it faster. Thanks for the ask! I was dying to talk about that for such a long time and that was a perfect thing to organise thoughts

[khargaotte]

ok ok ok so i have a pretty ambitious sewing project for this summer

we're talking like, going from "the most complicated thing i've ever sewn is a dice pouch" to "this pattern is labeled as '4/5 - advanced' in the difficulty scale the design provides"

and i actually have a deadline for it because there's two events i want to wear it to in august

so i feel like I need to document it somewhere

so here we go

disclaimer: this is going to be a long, rambly post

first, context

I have a wedding to attend in late august, which is always a good opportunity to convince my brain, which is scared to spend money, that yes, I can have a cute new dress, as a treat.

I am also just fat enough that I can still find clothes sometimes in mainstream shops, but a good half of the time I am just outside of their size range, enough to know that a specific garment would look and feel amazing if only they had just the next size.

Which is what happened when I tried this very pretty dress the other day - it was reasonably priced for my budget, it was the perfect shade of orange that I like, it was a linen and rayon blend, it was cinched at the waist in a very flattering way but with a bodice long enough to actually get past my big boobs, it had pockets, it was perfect... and half a size too small. I could fit in it, and it looked great on my figure overall, but my chest was squished and flattened, and the shoulders were just a smidge too tight when trying a full range of movement. But since this shop is infamous for stopping at XL in physical shops and only carrying XXL online, I thought I'd check on the website - only to find out that this specific dress actually stopped at XL.

Back to square one then. I checked my other current go-to for affordable-but-not-the-worst-fast-fashion brand, but none of the options pleased me.

And then I remembered that when I was looking at that dress in the mirror, it had reminded me of a pattern I had eyed lustfully back when it had come out in 2021… And indeed, when I went to check, the constructions were similar, though I loved the pattern even more than the original dress. And when looking around at some more ethical but even less affordable brands, I was also reminded of another dream dress of mine… That also looks almost exactly like that pattern, but is waaaay out of my price range.

Behold, the three dresses, in order: the one from the shop (which is not particularly flattering on the model from the website, but please imagine it filled by someone with curves); the pattern; the other dress from the high quality brand.

So yeah. several shapes all accross. And with that, crafter's hybris started growing: yeah, ok, I'm gonna try, I'll make that dress.

next, fabrics

That was... the next hurdle. Because of course my first thought was linen, but the pattern calls for 6,20m of fabric because the entire thing (minus the sleeves) is lined, and that was just not within budget. So instead, after some looking around, I ended up finding a very cute combo of a rayon with a floral pattern as the outer fabric and a solid-colored orange cotton for the lining. Problem is, I ordered them online on a website that sold discounted batches, and, as I feared, when they arrived, it turned out that the relatively muted orange from the pictures was actually super bright. We're talking nearly neon there. The picture doesn't even do justice to just how bright it is.

The good think is: it's cotton! So I can dye it to make it closer to the terracotta oranges that I like, right? What's that in the back, the sound of more hybris, adding one more thing I've never done to this already ambitious project? Absolutely.

I have therefore acquired two boxes of fabric dye: one terracotta, which is the color I would like to have, and, following @palimpsexting's advice, because she's better at color theory than me, a small box of purple - the plan is to add just a smidge of it to the dye bath to help tone down the brightness of the orange. Now I just have to figure out if I have a big enough container in my flat to dye 3x1,40m of fabric, or if I should cut the pieces first to make it more manageable (I'd of course wash and iron the fabric first).

now, the plan

Like I said, this is ambitous. The only garment I've ever sewn was a t-shirt with a very forgiving cowl neck and not much structure other than that. So I'm gonna be a good girl, and do a sort-of mock up: the pattern comes with a blouse variation, which I'm gonna make out of a big cotton pillow-case I bought at a thrift store years ago for this type of purpose, just so I can 1/ figure out if I've picked the right size in the sizes table and 2/ get familiar with the actual construction of the piece before I cut into my actual fabric.

Like said above, I also need to wash and iron and dye the main fabrics; and there's a few things that I need to procure, like the invisible zipper for the dress version; I'm hoping to maybe skip the buttons if the zipper is enough, but that's also what the blouse mock-up will help me figure out. Ah, and of course, I'm adding a huge pocket, even though that's not planned in the pattern, because I'll be damned if a dress I make myself doesn't have a pocket (would have added two, but the zipper is where the pocket would go, and I don't want the headache of having to deal with both at once).

Will report once more advancement has happened.

[skyrimfuckery]

How did I forget this.

This is the "next" thing I had in mind when I was working on the squire's plate redo. And the dark witch outfit! This outfit is based on the Goliath beetle. I came across one when I was in Spain last winter, in the Zamora ethnographic museum. Why an African beetle is in a spanish ethnographic museum remains a mystery to me. But I digress.

I was immediately enchanted. I wanted to make a design that captured the essence of the creature: black and white when resting, and revealing the copper wings when in flight. From the get-go I knew I wanted to do a high fantasy styled outfit, with motifs from art nouveau and quite some visual noise. When I came across this bug, back in January, I didn't find myself capable enough to actually accomplish this design. So I worked on other things that were still on the backburner. The dark witch came first, then the squire's plate.

And here it is. The Garment of the Goliath. The cloak moves in movement, revealing the flame-painted copper armor underneath. The pattern of the beetle is reflected on the cape and tabard. The design language is supposed to be somewhat organic and unconventional. I also tried straying away from generally accepted high-fantasy designs, as you get a lot of that when you're doing elvish stuff or working with art nouveau motifs. It really was a bit of a test to see how well I could pull of a more complicated design like this. And I think I succeeded. I'm really happy with the way this thing turned out. All elements of the design, compared to older outfits, look better. The pouch is big step up compared to the squire's. The coin bag's textures look splendid, and I'm also super happy with the way the cuisse turned out. Lots of relief, lots of detail. There's this one shape/motif that's constantly being repeated across the entire armor. It's in the pauldrons, chestplate, vambraces, cuisses, and the boots. Can you spot it?

I did cut some corners during texturing, which is a bit of shame. These are learning opportunities. For example, the belt is a bit bland. When I'm striving to be holistic in my design, I need to pull it all the way through. For my next design, I'm intending to do just that. And I want to get that shit going from the concept stage onwards.

What I also want to do is to continue to be inspired by nature. So for my next project, I will make something as inspired by the American hummingbird. Of course it'll be armor. This time I'll try for a contrasting design to this goliath outfit. Colourful, but not demanding. Stay tuned.

[pickledpascal]

Entre Los Lobos

Chapter Five

Warnings: Javier whump, talking about a woman pre-transition, talks of bisexuality, general awkwardness, 18+ themes.

Word Count: 1.7k

Entre Los Lobos Masterlist

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Columbia had become a second home to Javier after everything. Yet another home with complicated feelings attached to it. The amount of people he had killed which could not be undone. 

And now he was a hero. Fucking promoted, even. To capture the next drug Kingpins in line. The Cali cartel members. 

Javier was met outside the Embassy by a young man who introduced him as Stoddard. His new secretary of sorts. He wasn't really listening to anything he said besides the fact that he would be working under him.

Then he was led to the office. Javier felt his shoulders slump while a breath escaped between his lips. 

“Alright, I'll, uh, leave you two alone!” Stoddard said almost too cheerily as he walked off. 

Milena stood there with a smile, her arms crossed as she leaned against the desk. “It's good to see you again, Javier.” 

Damn it, the way she said his name. He wanted to get on his knees and do something. Pray? Offer himself up as a sacrifice to a God he didn't believe in? Find out whatever was underneath her pants so he could suck or eat whatever it was? 

“You too, Lena.” He stepped further into the office and closed the glass door behind him. “Did you know…?”

She shook her head. “I knew once you got back to the States. They had us decide if we wanted you back. I couldn't say no.” 

“As long as I followed the rules this time?” Javier couldn't help the lopsided smile that spread across his face. 

“Not quite.” Milena chuckled, shaking her head. “I just hated working alone with that CIA asshole. Kept trying to get in my pants. And bald men aren't for me.” She looked off to the side, wrinkling her nose. 

A shadow passed over Javier's face. Stechner tried to get with Milena? He wouldn't put it past the asshole that the only reason he tried was to fuck with him. And it was working as much as he hated to admit it. 

Javier stepped closer to her. “Well, now you don't have to be alone anymore.” 

Milena focused on him again. There was something soft in those usually hard hazel eyes. He could lose himself in the forest of her eyes. Then she did something unexpected. 

She hugged him. 

She hugged him tight, an arm wrapped around his waist while the other grazed the bottom of his neck. She hugged him tight enough that he could subtly feel the soft curves and curated muscle underneath the fabric of her clothes. 

He was frozen. But her warmth seeped into him and he melted into her embrace, hesitantly putting his arms around her in return. Javier was so close he could smell her shampoo in her hair. A mix of grapefruit, pepper, and vanilla. A heady mixture that was already getting to his head. He breathed her in like it was the only air he was ever going to get again. 

Her touch was gone all too soon. But her hands lingered on his forearms. “You need a drink?” Milena asked. 

“Hell yeah.” Javier nodded. 

Rather than the bar, Milena invited Javier over to her apartment. It was much better than his, perhaps because she was more important than him? Her building was in the heart of Bogotá, fourteen floors tall, and was built like the finest resort on some beach somewhere. She lived on that fourteenth floor along with some other high ranking officials. 

Javier looked around the expansive apartment, taking in the large windows, colorful art on the walls, any pictures he could find, any small touches or additions that spoke to who Milena was when not handling dumbass DEA agents. 

He saw some unwashed mugs by the sink, various jackets strewn across chairs, blankets with Navajo patterns bundled up on the couch, and black and white pictures though he couldn't discern who was in them. He stepped closer to the shelf, tilting his head slightly. 

It was Milena. But not Milena as he knew her. Milena while she was in the army. 

Her body was a little bulkier, her chest not as pronounced, and her hair was buzzed close to her head. She was in camo pants and a shirt, her dog tags hanging from her neck, surrounded by four men. They all wore bright smiles, arms around each other's shoulders. Her Army friends, he realized. 

The somewhat confusing part was that Javier found her attractive like this too. With the looks of a man who could throw him over his shoulder. Well, Milena probably still could. She was just softer than she was then. 

“Ah, the Army photo.” Milena hummed, handing Javier a glass of whiskey which he took eagerly. She pointed out the different figures. “That's Marco, Max, Jack, and David. They're all pretty much married and have kids now.” Her eyes glazed over with nostalgia. 

Javier turned his head to look at her, his thumb running across the grooves in his glass. Crystal, he noticed. “But not you?” 

Milena sipped from her glass. “Not me.”

“Didn't find a woman you liked well enough?” He tried to joke, taking a gulp from his own glass. He held the liquid in his mouth a moment, let it burn, then swallowed. 

“No. I didn't.” Her tone was more clipped than before. She moved to the couch. 

Javier cursed at himself internally and followed her. “I didn't mean—”

“It's okay.” Milena shook her head, trying to reassure him. “You're not the first person to ask me something like that and you won't be the last.”

“Still.” He pressed. “I should know better, I know people like you.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “They're all wonderful, nice people. Beautiful girls. Usually, I'm more… normal about it, I guess.” Did he just admit to being nervous? 

Milena shook her head. “Being normal about transsexuals is trying to kill us or trying to fuck us for some fucked up kink,” His eyes widened, “You're doing better than most already.”

“I promise it's definitely not that.” Javier said, almost too quickly but nevertheless earnest. 

“Calm down, Peña, I know you like me for more than the dick between my legs.” She joked to try and lighten the mood, giving him a shrug. 

Javier swore he could've dropped his glass but was conscious of getting the couch dirty. Milena inadvertently confirmed something that unfortunately had been on his mind multiple times before. Not in a creepy way. Well, kind of? But not in the fetish way. He was simply thinking about it. Dreaming about being with her. And yet he wanted those thoughts, those dreams to be accurate. Did she have the surgery? Did she not? Just a curiosity so his dreams could better represent her. 

“How about you, Peña? Have you been with any women lately?” Her voice cut him out of his reverie. 

Javier grabbed his cigarettes from his jacket and tapped one out in between his lips. He lit it up and shrugged. “Not really. Can't get this one hardass brunette out of my head.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and breathed the smoke out through his nostrils. 

Milena tilted her head, a glint of something he couldn't quite place sparkled in her eyes. “Must be awful to be around.” 

“I thought so too. Not so sure anymore.” He lifted the cigarette back to his lips, letting it hang there as he set an arm on the back of the couch. 

“Yeah?” She asked, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. 

He blew smoke out from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.” 

Taking the cigarette from Javier's lips, Milena put it out on an ashtray. His eyes followed her movements carefully. He felt her fingertips brush against his mouth and it set his whole spine on fire.

She leaned closer to him, knees brushing against one another. She was slow with her movements, giving him any opportunity to pull away. He never did. 

Milena kissed him. Soft and slow and sweet. With a hand on his shoulder and the other cradling his cheek so tenderly he thought he might break. 

When she tried to pull away, Javier pulled her right back in. He cupped the back of her head, pressing his lips to hers more firmly. He was sure he tasted like cigarettes and alcohol and maybe even a little like the chorizo he had for breakfast as prepared by Chucho but she didn't seem to care. She maybe even enjoyed it with the way she relaxed in his arms. He didn't either. Her lips were soft and tasted like the whiskey they shared, but there was something else. Grapefruit. Sweet and sour. And delicious.

Once satisfied, he pulled away. Both panting, though Javier recovered first and began to pepper Milena's face and neck with kisses. “Do you know how long I've been wanting to do that?” He said between pecks. 

She drew in a sharp breath, a small laugh escaping her. “No. How long?”

“Too damn long.” He planted a final kiss on her nose. He brushed some hairs that fell on her face away, finally letting himself touch her the way he wanted. 

Sometimes that touch was sexual, but mostly Javier just wanted to hold her hand or play with her hair when she talked during a meeting. Hell, he'd distracted himself enough times with daydreaming about braiding her hair just to feel it during meetings that he had to ask Steve for a quick rundown after the fact. 

Well, now he knew for certain Milena's hair was as soft as it looked. 

“Yeah?” She teased gently, her eyes roaming across his face. 

He felt his face heat at the attention as if he wasn't used to it. As if he didn't already know he was handsome. As if every single person he had ever been with didn't mention it before. It was different with Milena. It felt deeper. This wasn't going to lead to sex. Not tonight. However, it would lead to something else. Something more profound that scared him. 

“Yeah.” Javier murmured, pulling her close into an embrace to press a kiss to her temple. She went willingly. “I missed you.” He whispered into her hair. 

Milena closed her eyes, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “I missed you too.”

[robezpierre]

TOTK Light Dragon Crochet Pattern

It's been a while! Here's a crochet pattern for the Light Dragon from Tears of the Kingdom. I'll post it on deviant art shortly.

Full pattern below cut. If this ends up on P*nterest, I'm going to be very disappointed with one of you.

Stitches used (abbreviations): chain (ch), slip stitch (sl st), single crochet (sc), double crochet (dc), treble crochet (tr), increase (inc), decrease (dec)

This pattern is complicated – partially because I haven’t written a pattern for anything in a number of years, partially because the Light Dragon has a lot of weird parts. There’s chaining and slip stitching into the chains to make antlers, front loop and back loop work, flattening and working through two halves of a round simultaneously, and a lot of positioning.

I typically work in the round, without joining; if you would like to join, just add a sl st and a ch 1 to the end or start of each row in the round. It may make things twist less.

Head (1 in light brown)

1: ch 3, sc 2 in 2nd ch from hook, sc 3 in last chain, turn work (so that you’re working on the far side of the chain), sc (6)

2: sc, inc twice, sc, inc twice (10)

3-6: sc around

 7: in, sc around (11)

8: sc 5, IN BACK LOOP ONLY inc, in BOTH LOOPS, sc 5 (12) (the empty loop will be used with the white head marking)

9: sc around (12)

10: sc 3, inc, sc 5, inc, sc 2 (14)

11: sc 13, inc (15)

12: sc 7, inc, sc 7 (16)

13: sc 4, inc, sc 6, inc, sc 4 (18)

14: sc 8, inc, sc 8, inc (20)

15-18: sc around (20)

19: sc 3, dec around (16)

20: sc 2, dec around (12) DO NOT F/O, continue to body

Begin stuffing here, and continue stuffing as you go

Begin Body

21:  sc 6 in brown, join cream, in BACK LOOPS ONLY, sc 6 in cream (12)

22- 25: sc 6 in brown, sc 6 in cream (12)

26: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, sc 7 cream (12)

Rep rows 22-26  1 time

32-: rep row 26 (12)

Continue repeating row 26 until you’re happy with the dragon’s body length; mine was a total of 89 rounds. Then, continue with the tail

90: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 2, inc, sc 2, inc, sc (14)

91-96: Sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, sc 9 brown (14)

97: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 2, dec, sc 2, dec, sc 1 (12)

98: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 1, dec, sc 1, dec, sc 1 (10)

99: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 1, dec twice (8)

100: sc 1 cream, in brown dec twice, in cream dec twice (moving the stitch marker to after the decrease) (4)

F/O, make sure everything’s stuffed and weave in ends

White Head Marking (One in cream) On one end of the unworked loops from Head/Body round 21, attach cream

1: inc, sc 4 inc, ch 1 and turn (8)

2: inc, sc 2, inc, sc 3, inc, ch 1 and turn (11)

3: inc, sc 4, inc, sc 4, inc, DO NOT ch 1 or turn (yet) (14)

4: ch 4, turn, sl st in 2nd ch from hook, sc in next two chs, skip first sc in the row (last worked sc from row 3), sc in 2nd sc, sc one more, skip next sc, sc in the stitch next to it (you want the hole, it’s for antlers), sc 4 more, ch 1, turn

4.1-2: sc 4 across, ch 1 and turn (4)

4.3: sc, dec, sc, ch 1 and turn (3)

4.4-5: sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

4.6: sc, dec, ch 1 and turn (2)

4.7 dec, sl st into the open loop from Head row 8, sl st into the side of the head marking until you get back to row 4, cont row 4

4 cont: skip the first sc in row 4 (this is the other antler’s space), sc 4, ch 1, turn, sc 4, sl st in 2nd ch from hook, sc 2, join into a sc in row 4

F/O, leaving a long tail

Spike numbers depend on how long your dragon is; her back spikes are arranged in a large-med-small-med-large pattern, starting with two large spikes and ending with an extra seven large spikes on the tail (two on top, four on the sides, and one of the very end). I would recommend making two large, two medium, and one small spike to start, and laying them out to see how many repetitions of that pattern that you can fit on the dragon, and how many spikes you need. I fit three repetitions, and those amounts are reflected below.

Large Spikes (in light blue) (I made 11)

1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

4: inc, sc 3 around (10)

5: inc, sc 4 around (12)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Medium Spikes (in light blue) (I made 6) 1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

4: inc, sc 3 around (10)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Small Spikes (in light blue) (I made 3)

1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Under-spike gold

I found this easier to follow by working conceptually. You are making circles for each spike to sit on top of. To start, count your spikes, and chain: 6 for each large spike; 5 for each medium spike; and 4 for each small spike. (I had ch 80, but I needed ch 83, see below). Add 2 chains at the end. Those last two chains count as Tr, not as chains to skip/work into. You’ll end up working on either side of the starting chain, mirroring what you do on one side on the other.

For large spikes, skip 2 chs, Tr 5 in 3rd ch, skip 2 chs, sl st in 3rd ch

For medium spikes, skip 2 chs, dc 5 into 3rd ch, skip 1 ch, sl st in 2nd ch

For small spikes, skip 1 ch, dc 5 into 2nd ch, skip 1 ch, sl st in 2nd ch.

Combine the above to match how you want your spikes to sit on your dragon; when you get to the end of the chain, turn your work so that you’re working back up the chain, and mirror your stitches. You should have the correct number of circles, and be able to sl st into the first ch. I had to put Tr 10 into the first ch, since I did not have enough circles, but the ultimate placement worked out.

For the side spikes on the tail, do the following twice: Ch 10, tr 5 in 4th ch from hook, skip 2 chs, tr 10 in last ch, skip 2 sts, tr 5 in the next st (the same st as the initial tr 5), sl st to the first tr, F/O with a long tail. Sew to body, on the sides of the main tail under-gold.

I had to make one circle for the final spike on the tail, by ch 6, tr 5 in 3rd ch from hook, skip 2 chs, sl st into last ch, skip 2 sts on other side of work, tr 5 into next ch (again, where the initial tr 5 is, you’re making a circle), sl st onto first tr and F/O. A magic circle of 6, increasing around to 12, would probably work just as well; so would making the initial golden circles longer to accommodate this spike. I simply lost my spike and didn’t realize it until after I had placed everything.

Hair (make 1 in gold)

1: ch 21, starting in 2nd ch from hook, sc across (20)

2: ch 4, sl st into 2nd ch from hook, sc, in next ch, hdc in last ch, skip a st of row 1, sl st into front loop of next sc. Repeat across the row. Ch 1 and turn at end. (10 spikes)

3: Working in back loops only, sc across, ch 1 and turn (20 sc)

4-7: repeat rows 2-3 twice

F/O, leaving a long tail

Horns (make 2, in cream and turquoise)

In cream:

1: ch 2, sc 4 into 2nd ch from hook (4)

2: sc around (4)

F/O, and turn so that the right side is out. Leave enough tail to sew onto the head.

Using Turquoise, sl st into the cream starting ch. The horns are made from one long chain with different spikes; after slip stitching a new ‘spike’, you’ll continue slip stitching into the original chain.

Ch 12, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 4, ch 4, starting in 2nd ch sl st 6, ch 5, starting in 2nd ch sl st 3, ch 2, starting in 2nd ch sl st 5, ch 3, starting in 2nd ch sl st 4 and F/O (you should have worked all chs)

‘Bangs’(make 1 in gold)

1: ch 7, starting in 2nd ch from hook, sc across (6)

2: ch 4, sl st into 2nd ch from hook, sc, in next ch, hdc in last ch, skip a st of row 1, sl st into front loop of next sc. Repeat across the row. Ch 1 and turn at end. (3 spikes)

3: Working in back loops only, sc, dec, dec, sc, turn (4 sc)

4: rep row 2 (2 spikes)

5: in back loops only, dec twice (2)

6: rep row 2 (1 spike)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Sew this to the forehead of the dragon, directly between the horns – the 6th row points out, the 1st row attaches to the hair

Legs (make 6 in dark blue, 3 left and 3 right):

1: ch 6, join in first ch, sc around (6)

2-7: sc around (6) make sure that you’re working right side out!

8: in front loops only, inc around (12)

9- 10: sc around (12)

Flatten the previous row; you will sc through two stitches at once, closing the opening as you make fingers

RIGHT HAND 11: ch 6, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 5, sc through parallel sts in row 10 twice, *ch 9, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 8, then sc into two parallel stitches in row 10* repeat 3 more times, sl st through the last two parallel scs

LEFT HAND 11: *ch 9, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 8, sc through parallel sts in row 10* repeat 3 more times, sc through parallel sts in row 10 once more, ch 6, starting in 2nd ch sl st 5, sl st through the last two parallel scs.

F/O, leaving the leg unstuffed. You do not need a long tail, just enough to tie off and weave in.

Hips/Shoulders/Haunches (make 6 in cream)

You’ll be working directly into the legs, from their starting chain, and crocheting in the opposite direction. Make sure that the work faces out. Try to plan where you start to be where you want the shoulder to be – in row 6, you’ll begin working only half of the stitches, and they’ll be the stitches in front of your starting position.

1: make a slip st, and join into the starting chain for the legs. Inc around (12)

2: sc, inc around (18)

3-5: sc around (18)

6: sc 9, ch 1 and turn (leaving other sts unworked) (9)

7:  sc 6, dec, F/O

F/O, leaving a long tail. Stuff the haunch, leaving the arm/hand unstuffed.

Ears: (make 2)

Inner Ear (brown)

1: ch 3, sc in 2nd ch from hook, sc in last ch, ch 1 and turn (2)

2-4: sc across, ch 1 and turn (2)

5: dec, ch 1 and turn (1)

6: sc, F/O (1) your tail can be short, it won’t be used to fasten anything. I hid mine between ear layers.

Outer Ear (cream)

1: leaving a long tail, ch 4, sc in 2nd ch from hook, sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

2-4: sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

5: dec, sc, ch 1 and turn (2)

6: dec, ch 1 and turn (1)

7: sc, ch 1, and turn the work so that you’re working on the edge of the work. Sc into the edge of row 7. Lay an inner ear over the outer ear, and sc into both pieces, along the edge. You’re joining the ear parts together. F/O, leaving a long tail to sew the bottom of the inner ear onto the outer ear. For one of the ears, you’ll have to work backwards or upside down if you don’t want two left ears – or you can just sew both inner ears to the outer ears.

Assembly: Stitch the white head marking to the head. I pinned on the hair, and attached the spikes and under-spike gold. To make this easier, I stuffed and attached each spike onto the under-spike gold first, and then pinned and sewed the gold onto the back (be careful to keep it centered). Then I attached the tail spikes, and stitched down the hair. I added the horns, ears, and bangs, and finally pinned all of the legs. I was careful to keep the legs attached only to the cream, not the brown belly, but that was just a stylistic choice that I made. Finally, you can make and attach the eyes; I used some felt and markers, though I’m not overly pleased with the effect.

[lilo-jacos]

Valentines Gift Exchange!

Ask: Preferably if it is a ship a lgbtq ship or a fun and lighthearted fic. // Icks Mareven

@kracenstar @nortaeventcouncil

*Long story short I decided to just share this for now. Is it my best work? Not even close. I had some complications with my chronic illness near the end that got in the way of writing but tbh this was modeled after a conversation I had on Chai with Cal and Gisa that I fell in love with and decided it fit the challenge of what this person wanted. If anyone wants the continuation version where they go to the lake after, I'll be happy to continue it! Knowing me it will contain a ton of Marecal, Gisa and Olivia exploring more of their crushes on each other and cute moments with the dog so hey🤷🏼‍♀️ if you're into that let me know!*

---

Marecal and Gisa Crush AU:

Cal drove while “Hot To Go” blasted through the car speakers. Of course he got stuck with driving three teenage girls around for a day out. Gisa and Olivia danced in the backseat while Mare scrolled on her phone and sang the words under her breath taking up the passenger. He didn’t mind the song, the girls made him do a TikTok with them to it and he was all smiles. Liv worked for Cal’s grandmother for years, she and him basically grew up together. She’s like his little sister, especially now that he’s out of the palace and he was able to get her a place across town. They’ve been able to have easier interactions apart from just when he’s visiting Nonabel. Mare has taken a liking to her, and evidently Gisa definitely has with the way they instantly clicked and exchange glances toward each other suggesting more than normal friendship feelings. The car shakes as the vibrations of the music turn everyone into the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, dancing their hearts out as the girls laugh and sing along. Roz, the German shepherd puppy in the boot of the car happily peers over the seats to watch. It only takes a while for them to get to the market.

It’s an alley-like opening leading to rows of shops and produce suppliers, a lot of places to sell food of different varieties. Many sounds overlap each other. Crowds in different conversations, laughing, food sizzling on grills, cars passing by outside the street, Olivia already talking about the boba stall. “I haven’t had boba in so long, I actually need it now before I suffer from lack of tapioca pearls.”

“It’s been two days!” Gisa laughs.

“That’s the equivalent of a lifetime when it comes to boba.”

With how many ovens there are in an enclosed space, the market heats up fast. In reality the weather is chilly but as soon as you walk through the alley a bit you can start to feel your skin warming like a day in the sun. Mare has on a black and white bandana-patterned top that simply wraps around her neck with no sleeves paired with dark jeans. Gisa has a lightweight long-sleeve on filled with light browns and greens. Her curly hair is pulled up into a voluminous ponytail, bouncing with every step she takes.

“You got money?” Cal asks Liv, one hand holding onto Roz’s leash.

“Yeah I brought my wallet this time. We splitting up?”

Mare takes over, happily continuing on further to get to the boba stall. “No, we can stay together. Make a double date out of it.” She winks and Gisa blushes, nudging Mare with her elbow.

The bubble tea shop is on the corner of a turn right next to a ramen shop and custom popcorn bar. That rich, buttery smell of popcorn overtakes the corridor even near the sushi bar. It’s like a movie theater without the movie. The boba store has an oil diffuser going to try to battle the scent but it’s practically useless for everyone but the workers; only managing to make it smell like kernel scented lavender. Gisa got brown sugar bubble tea and Liv got strawberry, Mare got a blackberry smoothie and Roz got a small cup of whipped cream. Cal tries to sip some from Mare’s drink and she immediately swats him away. “You said you didn’t want one!”

“I just want to try it!”

“Get your own then!”

They continue their banter, fighting like they hate each other even with the smiles they have and their interlocked fingers saying otherwise.

Making their way to the normal shopping district the air is cloudy from the smoke of the grills smelling like charred meat and sizzling oil. It clears up the more they follow through but stays when they pass into a small business trinkets shop across the street from a taco bar. Olivia takes Gisa’s hand and leads her to handmade jewelry, holding up gold teardrop earrings. “These are pretty, you’d like nice in them!” She says, holding up the pair for Gisa to see.

“There’s a matching set, one silver and one gold, should we get them?” Gisa smiles, holding up the matching silver pair. There was just enough room on her ear to get a normal piercing for her interchangeable jewelry apart from the stones her brothers gave her when they got conscripted. She still likes the extra earrings, that means extra bling. That’s not the only reason, of course, but each jewel gives her another part of her story to tell.

The shop is filled with many different eclectic pieces - most handmade - from jewelry to plushies and shirts to flags. It smells like dust even when the colors look bright and youthful. Cal is looking at a little leather purse near the entrance. “Would you wear this?” He asks Mare, her smoothie in his hand ever since she let him have a sip and he decided he liked it.

“Maybe, or we could take it to Farley. I’m sure someone at the guard could use something like that.”

By the time they leave Mare and Cal got a few bags to take to the guard and stuffed animals for the nursery; Gisa stocked up on embroidered patches to include in her designs and shipments. The matching earrings were worn immediately after being bought, the girls switching out their current jewelry to the new ones. “March and Mex?” Mare asks. It’s one of her favorite places to get her favorite food. She would travel hours for their steak tacos, she even once said she loved them more than Cal as a joke. That she would trade him in for just one cup of the Mex’s sauces.

“Should I get a burrito or just a taco?” Cal asks on the way.

“The way you eat, probably a burrito.” Mare smiles. Grouped fans line the top of the walls to try to keep the temperature down in the food court making the space even more muffled with the loud whooshing from above. Every corner of the market has space for tables. Some are occupied by couples or friends eating and others are playing cards on the stained wood seats. This station in particular is lined with graffiti. After ordering, they make their way to a little table in the corner fitting four in front of a floor-to-ceiling colorful portrait of a cityscape. The wood is slightly chipped, dirty from its last occupant. Mare sweeps away the crumbs whole Cal settles Roz under the table out of the way from those passing by. Behind the wall is a hot wings stand she’s smelling so he has to make sure the leash is secure.

“You think it warmed enough for the lake yet?” Gisa asks, mixing around her salad. Liv got a bowl, Cal got his burrito and Mare is too busy already enjoying her beloved tacos to answer.

“It should’ve, it should be one of the last good days to go before it gets too cold.” Cal says.

[galaxysupreme17]

AU - The Proposal Plan

Y/n = Your Name

Rio Vidal x daughter!reader!

Agatha x Rio

The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the Vidal household, casting golden streaks across the cozy living room. Y/n lay sprawled on the couch, her favorite hoodie oversized and comfortable as her leg hung lazily over the armrest. The rhythmic thump of her music pulsed faintly through her headphones as she doodled absentmindedly in her sketchbook, a mix of geometric patterns and whimsical creatures filling the page.

Rio stood by the sink in the kitchen, staring out the window toward Agatha's house next door. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, twisting and untwisting the fabric as she replayed her plan in her head. She'd been mulling this over for weeks, but now that she was ready to take the leap, nerves threatened to overwhelm her.

She glanced toward Y/n, who was in her own little world. Taking a deep breath, Rio wiped her hands on a dish towel and entered the living room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Rio said, leaning against the doorway.

Y/n glanced up, tugging off her headphones. "What's up?"

Rio stepped further into the room, her expression a mix of determination and hesitation. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Y/n sat up straighter, setting her sketchbook aside. "Of course. What's going on?"

Rio perched on the arm of a nearby chair, her posture unusually stiff. "It's about Agatha," she began, her voice softer than usual. "I... I've been thinking about proposing to her."

For a moment, Y/n stared at her, wide-eyed. Then, a massive grin spread across her face. "Are you serious?!"

Rio laughed, a little relieved by her daughter's reaction. "Yeah, I'm serious. But I wanted to talk to you about it first. I know it's been an adjustment, and the three of us are navigating this dynamic with her living next door. I don't want you to feel like I'm rushing into anything."

"Rushing?" Y/n said, her tone incredulous. "Mami, you've been in love with her forever. This is awesome! She makes you so happy, and I love her too. This is the best news ever."

Rio's shoulders sagged with relief, a grateful smile tugging at her lips. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," Y/n said without hesitation. Then she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "But we can't just slap something together. We've got to make it perfect."

Rio laughed, her nerves easing further. "I was hoping you'd say that. I definitely need your help."

"Okay," Y/n said, hopping off the couch and grabbing her phone. "Step one: the ring. Do you have one yet?"

"Not yet," Rio admitted. "I wanted your input."

Y/n's grin widened as she began scrolling. "Oh, this is going to be so fun. Agatha deserves something timeless. Elegant but not over-the-top-just like her."

Rio nodded, watching as Y/n's excitement bubbled over. "And what about the proposal itself?"

Y/n tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, Agatha's definitely not a big-public-spectacle type. Something intimate would be better. A dinner at home would be perfect."

"That's what I was thinking," Rio said. "Dinner here, just the two of us. But I'll need you to keep her distracted."

Y/n smirked, already plotting. "Leave that to me. I'll drag her into one of my overly complicated school assignments."

"You're scary good at this," Rio teased.

"It's a gift," Y/n replied, grinning. "Alright, let's finalize this plan."

The pair spent the next hour brainstorming, Y/n's creativity shining as she helped pick out a stunning sapphire ring online, nestled between two delicate diamonds. They discussed decorations, music, and even Agatha's favorite meals.

By the time they wrapped up, Rio felt more confident. She reached over and squeezed Y/n's hand. "I couldn't do this without you, kid."

Y/n squeezed back, her expression soft. "You've got this, Mami. Agatha loves you."

The next day, the plan went into motion. Y/n walked next door with a stack of papers in hand and a determined look on her face.

"I need help," she declared dramatically when Agatha opened the door.

Agatha leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Is this another last-minute panic over an essay you've procrastinated on?"

"First of all, yes," Y/n said, holding up the papers. "Second, it's kind of your fault for being so good at explaining stuff."

Agatha laughed, stepping aside. "Alright, come in. Let's see what kind of academic disaster we're dealing with today."

Back at home, Rio was a whirlwind of activity. The dining table gleamed under soft candlelight, adorned with a bouquet of lavender and white roses. Agatha's favorite dishes sat waiting, and the aroma of homemade lasagna filled the air. Rio double-checked everything-the playlist, the wine, the small velvet box tucked safely in her pocket.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/n texted from next door: Mission accomplished. She's heading over!

When Agatha walked in, her steps faltered. The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the candlelight dancing off the walls. Rio stood in the middle of it all, a nervous but radiant smile on her face.

"Rio," Agatha said softly, her eyes sweeping over the scene. "What's all this?"

"Dinner," Rio replied, stepping closer. "Just us. No distractions."

Agatha's smile widened as Rio led her to the table. They ate slowly, their conversation light but meaningful, punctuated by shared laughter. The comfort they'd built over years together filled the room.

As they finished dessert-a rich chocolate mousse, Agatha's favorite-Rio's heart began to race. She rose from her chair and knelt beside Agatha, pulling the velvet box from her pocket.

"Agatha Harkness," she began, her voice steady but full of emotion. "You've brought so much light into my life. You challenge me, make me laugh, and show me love every single day. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Agatha's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. For a moment, she was speechless. Then she nodded fervently. "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

Rio slipped the ring onto her finger, her own eyes glistening as she stood. Agatha embraced her tightly, their laughter mixing with happy tears.

From the window, Y/n peeked through the curtain, her grin so wide it hurt her cheeks. She gave a little fist pump of triumph before ducking out of sight, leaving her mom and soon-to-be mom to their perfect moment.

That night, as Rio and Agatha sat together on the couch, holding hands and basking in the glow of their engagement, Y/n finally joined them.

"Told you she'd say yes," Y/n teased, plopping beside them.

Agatha laughed, pulling her into a hug. "And I'm guessing you had something to do with all this?"

"Maybe a little," Y/n said, grinning.

The three of them settled into the couch, wrapped in warmth and love. The stars outside twinkled like the future awaiting them.

[bomberqueen17]

sewing and dyeing

I have managed to achieve some sewing!

I finished the silk dress from the yardage I'd dyed around Christmas, even hemmed it and everything, I feel very accomplished. So that's done.

And the linen bias-cut slip dress I made around Christmas, which I never wore anywhere because it was white-- I've managed to dye it, and it came out much more interesting than I'd expected! So, pictures and discussion behind the cut.

[image description: A mirror shot of me, a fat blonde white woman, in a grungy basement, wearing a clingy white knit tank top with a drapey cowl neck]

Firstly, I made this tank top (I bound the armholes, it looks nicer that way)-- started with the Cashmerette Wexford top, then used this tutorial from Threads Magazine to hack a cowl neck onto it. Ages ago I'd had a cowl neck sleevless top that I loved, and wore holes in, and couldn't find one again. So I used a yard or so of very slinky knit, probably some kind of rayon blend from Dharma would be my guess.

I tried it on, and immediately threw it in the soda ash solution to dye it because I don't need a white top like this, it'll get shit dripped on the tit immediately so I might as well give it a busy dye job. I will make more of this top in other fabrics, but 1) make the cowl just a bit longer so it drapes farther, and 2) make the self facing deeper, I feel like this one is going to flip out all the damn time.

I also think I'll hem this shorter, but I haven't hemmed it at all so far so it remains to be seen.

Secondly, I have nearly finished this button-up camp-collar shirt from the Cashmerette Club, in a natural linen that I have so many yards of from an old project I never did.

[image description: me in the same grubby cluttered mirror view of my basement, wearing a gray shirt, slightly wrinkly, with unfinished sleeve edges and I'm holding it shut because there aren't buttons on it yet. There are two breast pockets and one is significantly higher than the other.] So the breast pockets are optional and uh I am definitely only going to put one or zero on the next one of these I make because I checked and rechecked and rechecked and this is literally the best I could do at making them even??? ugh also they don't sit right because there's a bust dart and one of them went on ok and somehow the other one is overlapping the bust dart slightly, which means it's Not On Straight. Just.... not optimal. I get why there are pockets but I also super get why they're optional. No thanks!

I hate the interfacing too, it was awful to work with and feels like paper. But once I've finished and washed this I hope it will settle down. (In the past I've used shitty salvaged interfacing for things I was making, and used spray adhesive and sewed the edges where possible, and it worked fine. This, I splashed out and got the stuff in the package that's ostensibly meant to fuse on with your iron and guess what doesn't fucking work? that. So it's been just a nightmare and I'm not buying the nice stuff again because it fucking sucks. I get that you don't want to not interface the collar of a shirt like this, and the button band would be awful un-interfaced, but christ, I'm using the flimsy salvaged shit I cut out of an old bedskirt next time.

The directions on this pattern are... well as long as you know what they mean it's great. But there's a video sewalong, and that helped a ton. This is a very complicated pattern and yet somehow none of it has been beyond me, even though i sewed one bust dart inside-out first thing, and immediately also sewed the yoke to the back inside-out, and then right away also assembled the collar inside-out because I was so distracted by how much the interfacing did not actually fucking do what it was supposed to (yes i followed the package directions, no it did not fucking fuse). I got a lot of seam-ripping done, is all. (It really is a cool pattern, and if you manage to get through the directions, which are extremely specific, you wind up with a fully-finished interior with almost all the seam allowances beautifully enclosed-- it's cool as fuck.)

I have fabric already set aside to make at least two more of these. IDK how much I'll wear them but I love them. (I *have* coveted a shirt-dress for years, with one Almost Okay from Torrid that I wore a lot but have recently realized looks awful on me actually, so I will be making it a dress too, no fear.)

But then! Also: Dyeing!

So I looked on Dharma Trading for their tutorials and was not disappointed. I don't want to do traditional tie-dye, but I want the effect I got at Christmas with the silk scarves that I space-dyed. I don't have to steam-set fiber-reactive dyes, so that's a plus.

I saw this tutorial on dharma for ombre dyeing and I'm super gonna try that next, but haven't yet.

Tie Dye Tutorial on Dharma Trading: this is the one I used as a starting point.

So I dissolved a cup of soda ash in a gallon of warm water, put that in a plastic bucket, and soaked my fabric for 5-15 minutes, and then I decided to do a kind of gravity-based thing with squirt bottles and a spray bottle. I hung a clothes hanger from the gas pipe in the ceiling, put a big plastic mortar tub underneath, put a smock on myself, mixed up my dyes (and urea and in some cases salt, as directed by dharma the all-knowing-- half-cup batch size for the squirt bottles, and quarter-cup sizes for the spray bottle), and got to work one garment at a time.

I put some pleats into the garments and held them with clothes pins. Then I sort of "drew" along the pleats, picking a color to be the tops, and a second color to squirt into the valleys. I filled in with the spray bottle to highlight the pleats more, since that would hit the outer parts of the folds but the interior would be shadowed and stay white; then I could go draw in those white areas with my shadow color.

Everything then would drip down toward the hem of the garment, though there wasn't really that much movement; if I wanted a drip to cascade, i had to draw it down there myself with the squeeze bottle.

[image description: two squeeze bottles with narrow nozzles, and a spray bottle of more rigid plastic with a pump-dispenser top, sitting on top of a piece of stained scrap fabric on an old washing machine with tubs of dye powder sitting in the background.]

I also did a shirt where I spread it out on a rack in a pan at an angle, and sprinkled a mixture of dye powder and salt on it. Then I went and used the squirt bottles too, but it was a fun technique and I'd use it again.

[image description: a garment lies in loose folds, speckled with dark blue-green spots, and at the top decorated in splotches of blue and green.]

I wrapped the garments in plastic, and put the smaller ones into plastic bags, and then hung them outside in the sun so that a) the dye would flow downward rather than backstaining the areas I'd meant to leave white, and b) the sun would warm them so the dye could cure, and c) the plastic would keep them wet because the dye only chemically sets while damp.

Let them cure for 24h, and then today I brought them in and rinsed them for about a thousand years, and then washed them and gave them a soak and rinse in dye-fixative, then dried them on the line.

Here is the linen bias-cut slipdress I made at Christmas time, dry and ironed.

[image description: a dress on a hanger, with my hand pulling out one side of the skirt: the straps and neckline are bright emerald green, and then the body is streaked vertially with varying shades of green, teal, and dark blue, with a little purple at the hemline. The colors are light and a little muted, and some white shows between them in a few places.]

The linen took the dye lightest, the cotton a little darker, and a small offcut of rayon I'd had sitting around took the dye darkest of all.

here's everything still damp on the line:

[image description: under a blue sky, a metal clothes-tree-style line on the left has several small items in shades of green and turquoise, and then a line crosses the screen from right to left through the middle, with several items hanging on it. In the background are two cotton dresses, one mostly teal and the other green at the top with a white and purple skirt, then the linen dress from above in the middle, and closest to the camera is a mostly-quite sheet of fabric with geometric lines in green, blue, and purple.]

The foreground fabric is the rayon, and I sandwiched it between two blocks of wood with rubber bands holding it in place, and just saturated the edges with dyes. I'm extremely into it, it came out beautifully. i have more rayon so I am going to make something from that to ombre-dye, for sure.

I have severely overdone my physical activity the last two days though; I lay awake for a couple of hours the other night with my sciatic nerve just burning, and I expect the same tonight. We'll see though, maybe I'lll be pleasantly surprised, or just lucky.

Oh yah I'm trialing Ritalin, but just like the other medications, it's such a low dose and it's not extended-release. I looked up how to take it and the directions assumed I'd been given two or three pills to get through a day. Not so! So I have about four medicated hours in a day, and keep experimenting with where to put them. I don't notice it wearing off the way I did with Adderall though, so there's that at least.

Maybe by the end of May I can try a full dose of something, and see if that helps. IDK, it seems like it might.

[extraordinaryhistories]

#15 – 'Kill' (A Sun Came, 1998)

In 2016, a man named Marc Rebillet (yes, that Marc Rebillet) decided to search through a dumpster outside Sufjan’s studio in DUMBO, Brooklyn, which is a very mature and adult thing to do and reflects fantastically on Marc as a person, and certainly should have no consequences on his thriving music career. In that dumpster, he found an odd-looking CD – an unreleased album with a black-and-white cover titled Stalker, claiming to be performed by Sufjan Stevens. It had been recorded some time in the 1990s, and on a quick listen (the album was swiftly leaked online), it certainly sounded like early Sufjan, back when he did wild electric guitar freak-outs; his hushed but nasally vocal tone from that era is unmistakeable.

Everything seemed normal, except for the fact that the album was about tracking, sexually assaulting and then murdering people. It contained songs with titles like ‘I Know Where Your Kids Go to School’, ‘Baby Give Me a Feel’ and ‘U Kan Wrun But U Kan’t Hyde’. None of it was metaphorical. Sufjan recorded a noise rock album in the 90s that was quite literally about fucking stalking people. And then, not five years later, recorded ‘For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti’. It boggles the mind.

At the time that Stalker was released, a significant portion of the Sufjan fan community cast doubt on the veracity of the leak. One of the major concerns was that the subject matter was far too direct, far too gruesome, for a Sufjan song. He would never be so brutally direct. He would never. Right?

‘Kill’ is a song by Sufjan Stevens that features the following as its chorus: ‘I want to kill him / I want to cut his brain / And when it's over / I know I'll feel okay’. Ah. Case closed.

The third-last track on A Sun Came, ‘Kill’ is a knotty piece of songwriting that may be the most multi-layered lyrical construction in his early work. Even purely on inspection one can see this to be true – it is a song with a clear narrative, some clear themes, a roiling balance of light and dark within it, which is far more than can be said for much of this era. But then you get to the allusions this song pays to other literary and musical sources, and things only begin to complicate further. I, personally, have not quite made my mind up about ‘Kill’. It is a song loaded with possibility.

An initial reading of ‘Kill’ gives the strong suggestion of a relationship narrative, and I do think that this is what lies at the song’s core. The relationship in this song need not be romantic, but given the sheer depth and fury of the passion here, it seems highly probable. There is a narrator who exists in what is very much a lopsided power dynamic with another (male) figure; very rarely is the narrator an active subject in this song, instead being subject to the figure’s curation and exploitation. The figure ‘took the stable / Bred me to be a mare / Made the brethren able / Gave me a room’, all of which are ostensible acts of kindness that nevertheless confirm a ruler/ruled dynamic. 

We receive that same confirmation in the next verse. ‘I never asked him / I never meant to stay’, says the narrator, and very quickly the song sours. The narrator finds themselves being used and abused, ‘never [leaving] the stall’ while their partner readily leaves their side. Any sense of a romantic relationship in an ideal sense – two partners, ‘riding side by side / Into the frontier’, tackling the world’s challenges as a single, symbiotic unit – is long defunct. Only misery remains for the narrator, with hope long-dashed by a pattern of careless exploitation.

With this as our narrative foundation, we reach the song’s climax, one of the most striking and instantly memorable moments in his catalogue on account of how utterly depraved it is. We are left with no doubt that Sufjan’s narrator is in a state of abject misery up to this point. But misery in Sufjan songs is so often detached, poetic, dejected, somehow fundamentally stoic. Not in ‘Kill’. The narrator has no remaining emotional bandwidth for stoicism. All that’s left is a carnal desire to exact onto the narrator’s partner some fraction of the pain that the partner exacted onto the narrator, and the only way to do this is through murder. 

You will not find a gnarlier image in the Sufjan catalogue than ‘I want to kill him / I want to cut his brain’, and the reason it has so much guttural power is because it does not quite read as psychopathic or unstable. The narrator only wants to do this. They never will, and likely never even could – the verses of this song are in the past tense, and by the time we reach the present tense of the pre-chorus, the partner has left the narrator forever. ‘Kill’ is a logical conclusion, an exhausted final attempt to lash out in a situation where the narrator knows they have no power to do so. When the chorus finally breaks down at the end into a futile repeated ‘I want’, the song’s message is complete. It is violent, but the violence is less a horror tale, more a tragedy.

This is the interpretation that a direct reading of ‘Kill’ provides us, but there are all sorts of semantic curios in this one that complicate interpretation. I am, of course, referring to the extended horse metaphor that this song seems to be pushing. Both narrator and villain are referred to as mares in this song; there is talk of stalls, of stables, of riding into battle in a literal sense. It is rather late for me to mention that ‘Kill’ has a source text, but it seemingly does – Sufjan cites an obscure Sherwood Anderson short story named ‘The Man Who Became a Woman’ as the basis for this song, but has refused to elaborate further. The surface-level parallels are very clear given that ‘The Man Who Became a Woman’ is a story about a horse trainer, but from there the complications begin, because Anderson’s story is a) incredibly obtuse and b) seems to reckon far more with gender, and to a lesser extent race, than it does dysfunctional romance as a theme. The narrative in ‘Kill’ certainly does not retell that of its source material, at least not in a manner discernible to the listener. But the connections are there nonetheless.

A Sun Came is an album that brims with loving, albeit surface-level, tributes to Sufjan’s musical and literary influences, and ‘Kill’ is one such example. But Anderson isn’t the only reference point for ‘Kill’. It is highly probable that Sufjan is intentionally referencing Elliott Smith’s ‘Roman Candle’ in the chorus of this one. Sufjan sings ‘I want to kill him / I want to cut his brain’; years earlier, Smith sang ‘I want to hurt him / I want to give him pain’. And this is almost certainly intentional given Sufjan’s professed admiration for Smith and the various comparisons that have been made between the two songwriters over Sufjan’s career. (What makes things even more interesting is that ‘Roman Candle’ is a song about Smith’s violent step-father. The same systematic patterns of abuse are present in the lyrics of both songs, albeit expressed with more eloquence in Smith’s. Even if not Sufjan’s own stepfather – Lowell Brahms is by all accounts a beautiful, caring soul – one wonders if the subject of ‘Kill’ might have a real-life referent.)

One could spend days attempting to decode ‘Kill’, and this is fortuitous, because musically it does not offer much. The bulk of the song consists of a repeating guitar figure that has a sort of leaden weight to it, dragging it down into the muck. It is vaguely reminiscent of – and inferior to – the ‘Abraham’ ostinato that Sufjan would pen a few years later, but this one is played almost entirely on the lower strings and as a result lacks the same ethereal pop and spring that many Sufjan songs capitalise on. There is some double tracking, especially in the chorus and pre-chorus, but it doesn’t add anything substantial to the arrangement. Neither does Sufjan’s strained, upper-register vocal melody, but there is certainly a sort of confessional quality to it that suits the subject matter. 

All of this comes together to create a song that is resolutely, undeniably un-fun to listen to. It is most likely for this reason that Sufjan chose never to play this one live, unlike some of the other stripped-back folk ballads on A Sun Came. When Sufjan dips his toes in depravity – ‘John Wayne Gacy Jr.’! ‘Saturn’! – incredibly compelling, listenable, rich things tend to emerge, but at this early stage of his career, it seems that the pieces are just not quite in place yet. But there’s no denying that ‘Kill’ is a fascinating and in many ways remarkably compelling song, just one that does not feel as listenable as it could be. It’s fine. Early days yet. All of these songs helped create our modern concept of Sufjan Stevens.

[cjgladback]

And that's a wrap! On the first 100 grams of this oyster-colored Wool of the Andes roving. I'm very happy as my yarn quality and understanding continue improving; definitely getting to those consistent thin yarns I wanted. The green skein is absolutely the favored child, but I swear it is actually better than everything else, not just green. Which gives me some hope for all the wool I intend to card, actually.

My rambles got extra long, as were the image descriptions, so please enjoy this cut:

I wanted to test blending fibers with the same staple length before I get into more complicated things with the fiber festival fleeces (I am still slowly accumulating what I need to wash and dry them) and was honestly a little worried about how disorganized and snaggy it felt to card and draft, both. But my oh my that squishy, soft, wonderful yarn. I'm gonna keep trying to emulate it, though I still love the organization of just spinning nice long semi-compact roving. Versus even once I get a diz aka drill a hole in my designated piece of curved laminated cardboard, I expect carded sliver to be loose and fall apart if I do things like wrap it around my wrist as a proto-distaff. For the green yarn, I tried making kinda loose sideways rolags that I both compacted and drafted the tiniest bit so they could be wrapped into nests.

So! Mayhaps I should try carding something that isn't already organized. Like the little bit of very lanolin-laden wool that was packed with the e-spinner (EEW Nano, original flavor) I recently acquired from a thrift store. And maybe I won't want to wash all the lanolin out and lose the learning experience if I also blend it with other, clean fiber. Perhaps if I cannibalize the first skein here...? Good thing I never fulled it after all!

The above is not actually the train of thought that lead me to wanting to combine those two; I'm just realizing that there are basically no projects that I want to do that would actually use that yarn as is, and I'm already planning my limit of small and patchwork projects for other things. One is that I'm planning to put together all of these oyster skeins into maybe a hat? to commemorate my improving spinning skills, maybe with lace for the underplied and color work for the green, and I already have my actual first spin in a scarf so I don't feel too beholden to preserve this. I really like textured knitting that needs even, solid or slow-transition, thin yarn, whereas this wild and lumpy almost-twenty-feet would maybe work for someone who did tapestries? But that is not me. And I think if I calm down and maybe tweed up the bright colors I'll enjoy them more, as well. So. These may be the last photos of the yarn in its current state.

Whether that's my next project or if I try to get some mileage on the Nano with the next bundle of oyster, I'm not sure. I'm already missing my fidget activity after just a couple days of washing and drying the last skein, but I also wanted to design some bookmarks with the clearance yarn I got at the same time as the roving. So if I can get a prototype pattern laid out so it's not as much ongoing brain power, that might fit the bill.

[ID: Three images of various small hanks and balls of yarn laying on a wood table with notes digitally hand-written in light purple around them.

The first photo shows all eight of the skeins in the order they were spun, all but two a light cream color. The first is a chunky, uneven skein spun from a bright purple, pink, and orange gradient, labeled "chain ply" and 6.6 yards. Next is a cream center-pull ball that is 36.25 yards, and next to it a smaller, more even center-pull ball of 22.5 yards, perhaps 21 wraps per inch. Next is a forest green skein, labeled "hand carded," 49 yards, balanced and soft! Next are two cream skeins that were "underplied and broke," 116 plus 33 yards, 30 wraps per inch. The penultimate skein is longer than the rest (having been wound around more than one chair back) and 158.25 yards. The final skein is labeled "intentionally thicker to pair with green," and 99.75 yards.

The second photo compares the green and final skeins, with winding notes starting with a cloud of hearts by the green. It is a "50/50 blend of Oyster and Aurora roving colors on handcarders," and "took no notes so of course it's balanced, soft, and sturdy." Its cream counterpart has a smoother surface, more even thickness, and is slightly more tightly plied, with the note "didn't card but made an effort to match on ply back tests -- decent weight, almost balanced, not soft" (flat-mouthed face).

The third image compares the first and last skeins, the first labeled as 23 grams of gifted cheviot or shropshire, chain plied from ball with core, for a total of 6.6 yards. The latest is 24 grams of clearance peruvian highland, plied via book-wrapped bracelet into a two-strand ball, totalling 99.75 yards. End ID]