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marthawrites · 5 months

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could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time.

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating.

Shameful.

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher.

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something.

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully.

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family.

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence.

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply.

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat.

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions.

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked.

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers.

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?”

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it.

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you.

Hot-blooded.

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond.

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust.

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face.

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips.

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it.

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing.

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.”

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward.

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes.

Full.

You were so full.

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could.

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!”

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit.

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine.

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets.

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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lyjen · 2 months

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I called pt. 2

Summary: When (Y/n) goes out to do a business check on a Self Storage building, she ends up getting attacked. Due to a technical difficulty the radio of (Y/n) remains on, so everyone including her boyfriend and brother can hear what is happening.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

9-1-1 masterlist • Part 1

Taglist: I was thinking of starting a taglist, so if you want to be tagged leave a comment or tell me in “Ask me a question”! ( @oliviah-25 )

______

The attacker grabs (Y/n)’s arm and snaps it backwards. An ear deafening scream sounds through the building as she literally hears the bone snap. She feels how the bottom of the attacker’s shoe connected with the back of her knee as he kicked it. She lost balance on her right leg, so she tumbled to the ground and a loud cry fell from her lips.

Her body gets forced onto the ground by the power of his hands. (Y/n) falls face down onto the floor. In panic she starts touching the floor, looking for her gun with her only available hand that was working.

She could feel the man’s body standing over her. “Not this time.” she heard a low voice speak. (Y/n) turned around, so she was not on her stomach anymore, but facing the man with her back pressed to the ground, as she started crawling backwards. Trying to get away from the man.

The gun she was looking for, he was holding it right now, aiming at her. Her breathing became faster, her heart was racing, like it was trying to break free from her ribcage. “bye bye” he spoke as he pulled the trigger.

(Y/n)’s body flinched as he pulled the trigger, and within a second she was sitting right up in bed. Her body was drenched in sweat, she was on Evan’s side of the bed. That was the only place she would be able to fall asleep when her boyfriend was on a 24 hour shift and wouldn’t be back until the next day that afternoon.

She planted her head down on her hands, which were leaning down into her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. Tear after tear slowly made its way down her face. Her own scream is still audible in the back of her head, along with the sound of his fists touching her body and her bone snapping.

Why was she still having these dreams? It was like she had a dozen of these dreams, for weeks she had to relive the same dream. And now, she was dreaming of different kinds of scenarios. Of how it could’ve ended. “For fuck sake” she mumbled as she sniffled and wiped her hands underneath her eyes so she could wipe away her tears she shed.

She sighed as she tapped her phone on, three in the morning. Nice. Secretly she would’ve hoped Evan could walk into his apartment any minute, and to tell her that she would be okay, or to just put his arms around her, and hold her.

Part of her wanted to text Evan or her brother. But, they were on shift. They had more important things to do than to listen to her crying, telling the same dream. They couldn’t magically fix this, she knew that. But it was nice to know that somebody was listening to her. It was better than keeping it to herself, right?

“Get out of my head” she cried as loud as she could. But she could still hear her own scream echoing in the back of her mind, from that day. She wanted to shut out the sounds of her trauma, but she couldn’t. Her fingertips into her hair, it was like she was turning into a crazy person. She squeezed her eyes closed, as hard as she could when the sound in the back of her mind became louder, and louder.

Her breathing started to fasten, she had just calmed herself down and now her mind was doing this to her? Her heartbeat was starting to race again. “Oh god” she panted through her breaths as the tears started to stream over her cheeks again.

She threw off the sheets that were still covering her legs as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran towards the bathroom downstairs. She grabbed the sides of the sink as tightly as she could. Her face was above the sink as she was gasping for air, choking on her own cries.

“Just s-shut up!” she gasped, trying to stop her mind from playing the sounds that were going on inside of her head. Her eyes opened as she looked at herself in the mirror, she flinched at the view she got as a loud scream fell from her lips.

He was there. Her attacker was right behind her, in the mirror. Without thinking, she turned around. There was nothing to be seen. (Y/n) grabbed the thing closest to her, a full bottle of shampoo, and threw it against the mirror which was attached to the wall.

The mirror on the wall broke into a hundred little pieces of glass, as she let her back fall against the wall of the bathroom and slid down the wall.

“Dispatch to 118”

Bobby’s hand reached out for his radio as he was sitting in his team to go back to the station. “Go for captain Nash” he pressed the button.

“Please proceed to Nova Passage Apartments. A neighbor called because of noise complaints, but mentioned that she heard stuff breaking and screaming. Victim may be in need of medical attention.”

Multiple faces in the rig were pointed at Evan now. “Copy that dispatch, 118 enroute.” Bobby called over the radio and turned on the sirens of the truck. “Isn’t that..-” Chimney started. “..My apartment building.” Evan continued as his eyebrows furrowed. This was just a coincidence right?

Evan reached into his pocket as he slid out his phone and unlocked his phone. He quickly swiped to his text messages, there was only a goodnight message of (Y/n) from a few hours ago on which he replied but she didn’t read it yet. That was a good sign, or not? That could mean she was still peacefully asleep in bed and someone else was in need of help.

He swiped the messages app away and tapped onto the phone icon. Should he call her? What if she was finally asleep without having any nightmares and he interrupted it by being worried. “Buck? You coming?” Eddie’s voice asked Evan as he kept on staring at his thumb hovering over the phone icon.

Evan’s stomach turned as he realized the truck had already pulled to a stop and he was the only one still sitting in the rig. “Yeah, I’m coming.” Evan said as he threw off his headphone, basically jumped down the truck and closed the door behind him.

Eddie closed the hatch of the truck as he grabbed a halligan out of it, just in case. The team followed after Bobby, but as soon as they reached the floor of Evan’s apartment and he saw officers in front of it, he knew his gut feelings were right. The officers were banging on his apartment door, asking if someone was home. But no one answered.

Evan carried his house keys in case of emergencies with him, he felt in his pockets, trying to find the keys while his breath started to fasten. He had to know if (Y/n) was okay, in the stress. He couldn’t find the spare key to his house.

He shook his head, this wasn’t happening to him. Meanwhile Bobby was in conversation with the officers, collecting information about the call. Evan stopped searching for his key, as he walked towards the door.

“Hey (Y/n)... It’s me… I’m coming in okay. Stay away from the door.” Evan spoke through the still closed front door. He took a step back as he for a millisecond closed his eyes and yanked his shoulder into the door.

The door flung open as he quickly scanned his house with his eyes.

“(Y/n)?” He called out through the house, as he continued his way into the room. Everything seemed as perfect as he had left it that morning.

“Buck!” Hen called out as she was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom. Evan quickly made his way towards the bathroom, and his eyes fell on (Y/n) broken down onto the floor, curled up like a ball against the wall, with Eddie to her side.

Evan kneeled in front of her, pressing one of his hands onto her left shoulder and the other one resting on her arm. Her brother’s hand was lying on her right shoulder, trying to give her some comfort.

Her knees were pressed to her chest, with her arm secured around them and her head was hanging in the space between her knees and her chest. Quiet sobs are leaving her mouth. “Hey.. what’s wrong?” Evan asked when he reassuringly rubbed his thumb over her arm, just to let her know he was here with her.

She continued crying. “Did something happen?” Evan asked her. He knew something had happened, otherwise his bathroom mirror wouldn’t be destroyed like this.

When Evan didn’t receive an answer, “Baby.. can you please look at me?” he quietly asked her. Her breathing was trembling, as if she had trouble with taking a proper breath. But her head slowly came back up, as her red, wet, broken eyes met his.

It looked like she was looking right through him, she was that broken. “Good.. you’re doing great, baby.” He supported her. “Can you please tell me what happened here?” he calmly asked her.

Evan knew he needed to give her some time to react. “H-he.. w-was here” she stuttered as a single tear fell down her cheek. Evan’s eyes locked with Eddie as he continued rubbing his thumb over her arm. His eyes wandered back to her “The guy who attacked you in the storage unit?” Eddie mingled into the conversation as Evan didn’t know what to ask or say.

She nodded as her eyes focussed themselves on the broken pieces of glass, shattered down the bathroom floor. “”I-In.. the m-mirror.” she gasped through her breaths. Evan’s hands rubbed up and down her arms as he took a look over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry” she softly spoke with a trembling voice as she shook her head and moved her head so she was now looking at the ceiling. Evan’s head shot back to his girlfriend, who was still frightened sitting down on the floor. “The v-voices inside my head.. I can’t stop them. They’re c-constantly screaming.” she cries as her breathing starts to fasten again.

“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay.” Evan says as his hands slid from her upper arms down to her hands. “Look at me.” he said. (Y/n)’s eyes squeezed shut as she gasped for air and pressed her nails into Evan’s skin. “Please.” He begged. He helped her out of previous panic attacks, but this one sounded different. He had never seen her so scared, so broken. Eddie’s hand pushed down onto Evan’s shoulder, as a sign to let him try and help his sister out.

Eddie kneeled down onto his knees, as he took Evan’s place and Evan himself switched to Eddie’s place. “(Y/n). Please, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.” Eddie’s voice sounded calm, his hand was still on her right shoulder. “Just breathe okay? Breathe from your abdomen, not your chest.” he continued as (Y/n) was still gasping for more and more air.

Evan could hear (Y/n) trying to fight herself, trying to fight the attack she was having. “Just sh-” she cries as she could hear more voices, and more. “I need you to touch four things okay.” Eddie commanded her as she tried to fight. “Please! I can’t-” yelped through her sobs.

She placed her hand onto the floor, and the other one against the wall. “F-floor. W-w-wall.” Her eyes scanned the room, and she placed her hand down to the medic bag which was between Eddie and Evan, and she touched the radio. ”B-bag. Radio” she gasped.

“Okay. Now, three things you hear. Just listen.” Eddie went on as (Y/n) grabbed her brother’s wrist and Evan’s upper arm to steady herself. “I hear y-your voice. m-my breathing. And peop-ple on the hallway.” she stuttered over her words. “Good. Now two things you smell” Eddie continued when she answered his command.

“S-shampoo. And cologne.”

“And last one, one thing you can taste.” Eddie could see the pain in her eyes as she quietly said the word: “Fear.” She bit down onto her lower lip when it started trembling and more tears were streaming down her face. As if she didn’t shed enough tears already. “You’ll be alright.” Eddie said as his sister pulled herself into his chest. His hand tried to give her some comfort by softly and slowly up and down her back.

Evan kissed the top of her head as he tried to keep it together himself. “We’ll work this out.” he mumbled against the top of her head.

______

After months of therapy, and recovery, (Y/n) had finally been cleared to go back to work.

But not like she wanted to. She has been put on desk duty.

(Y/n) has been working on filling in some papers, until she feels a hand touching her shoulder. (Y/n) felt herself flinching at the touch, but as soon as her eyes met two familiar ones she knew it was alright. “Oh my god.. Athena, you scared me.”

Her hand went up towards her left part of the chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you like that.” Athena apologized. “How are you holding up?” Athena asked when (Y/n) pinned files together and closed the file she was working on. She took a deep breath, “Taking it day by day.” (Y/n) nodded.

A smile appeared on Athena’s face as she recognized the look she had in her eyes. “You can’t wait to get out there again, do you?” she softly laughed. (Y/n) looked down at her own hands as she started to fidget with her fingers and pick her skin. She nodded at Athena’s conclusion. “I understand. Working behind the desk wasn’t for me either.” Athena admitted.

(Y/n) softly smiled at Athena. “Yeah, but maybe it’s for the better that I'm on desk duty instead of out there.” she sighed. She missed the adrenaline, god she actually missed turning on that siren and stepping on the gas. “I’m not sure if I'd be ready to get out there again.” she continued and grabbed a new case file.

Athena nodded, understanding what she was saying, but she could see the urge to go back out there in her eyes.

“You know what.. Let's go for a ride hmm?” Athena’s voice spoke as she patted (Y/n) on the shoulder and started to walk away from the desk. (Y/n)’s head shot up at the sudden request from the sergeant. “But sergea-” (Y/n) didn’t even get the chance to end her sentence as Athena turned around in her tracks, and basically started walking backwards. “It’s already taken care of!”

She turned back around as she continued walking in her tracks. “You coming?” Athena called over her shoulder. A sound of doubt and hesitation fell off (Y/n)’s lips as she looked after Athena. What did she have to lose? She slid the chair backwards and hastily followed Athena.

“Where are we going?” (Y/n) asked as she was in the passenger seat of the police cruiser, with Athena behind the wheel. “You’ll see.” Athena spoke as she steered the wheel to the left to make another turn.

The car ride was silent, not awkwardly silent, but comfortable. (Y/n) watched trees, buildings and streets flashing by every second. Until the car pulled to a stop.

Athena put the car in park, as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Athena.. What are we doing here?” her voice asked, disappointed. “We’re going back to the place it all began.” Athena said as she opened her own side of the door and shut it close.

(Y/n) fidgeted with her fingers as she saw Athena walking through the window towards the entrance of the building. She felt her heart race in her chest, and swallowed loudly. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she took a deep breath.

Her hand unbuckled her seatbelt, and she slowly opened the passenger door of the police car she was in. (Y/n) could feel her legs almost caving in underneath her as she walked to stand next to Athena, who was in front of the large opening of the studio self storage.

“Why did you bring me here?” (Y/n) asked as she stared in front of her. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins. “To overcome your fear, you first have to face it.” Athena spoke loud and clear. “So I brought you back to the place where it all began.” she continued.

A moment of silence fell between the two of them.

“Look. I know how hard it is to go back on the job after a horrible accident. Trust me, I’ve been there. And if there is one way to go back and get back your confidence, this is the way.” Athena said as she pointed at the building.

Her hands were pressed into fists, (Y/n) could feel her nails cutting through her skin as she anxiously looked at the garage door frame on the outside of the building. “You’re not alone sweetheart.” Athena spoke as she looked into her eyes and squeezed (Y/n)’s upper arm.

She felt another hand press onto her shoulder, when she looked over her shoulder it revealed her boyfriend touching her shoulder and his team right behind them. “That’s what happens if you call for backup.” Athena says.

(Y/n) sighed as she nodded at the studio self storage, “Let’s do this.”

Evan’s hand slid off her shoulder as she stepped forward, and made her way onto the concrete stairs.

She looked up at the dark night sky, as she let her eyes wander over the building. She let oxygen enter her airways as she took a deep breath. It was time to face her inner demons. Her nightmares had finally stopped, and the screaming inside her head had faded away.

Her foot stepped over the threshold, as she followed the hallway inside. She slid her flashlight out of her belt and switched it on as she made her way through the halls. The deep, dark, creepy halls that had haunted her day after day.

After a while, of making her way through the building, she turned to the left. This was it. This is where the nightmare began. Some garage doors had been dented by the pressure that the attacker had on her body. Her body was slammed into multiple of these doors.

She shone her flashlight on the dents that were left on the doors and traced her fingers over it. A scream roared through the back of her mind. (Y/n) aimed her flashlight down to the ground as she kneeled down and inspected the little old blood spot that they missed when they cleaned the scene. A groan from her lips and gunshot rang through her ears, as a high frequency tone slowly faded out of her hearing.

(Y/n) clicked her spine back in place as she stood back up again, and nodded at the scene. She finally made peace with what happened in here.

When (Y/n)’s face was lit up by the light of the moon, a smile appeared on her face as she heard the sound of people clapping and cheering. They knew, she had overcome her fears and she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

She felt a hand slid down her waist as she gets pulled into her boyfriend’s chest. His warm breath hoovered over her ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

< Back - Part 1

#911 #911 fox #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #911 abc

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amhrosina · 1 year

Text

Touch Me (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: Hi friends! I know I said I wanted to get this out by yesterday, but I ended up at my local(ish?) urgent care yesterday afternoon because ya girl has apparently been walking around with bronchitis for two weeks now. I’m on medicine, and I’ve been resting/editing this all day, but I could not for the life of me get this thing finished yesterday. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! It is literally porn with plot. P.S. - bearded Frank makes me go absolutely FERAL, and the gif I chose for today's fic makes me even MORE FERAL!!!!!!

Request: if requests are open, do you think you could write about Pete/ Frank still works at the construction site and reader is his girlfriend and she visits him for lunch at the construction site and the guys are astonished and you can come up with the rest if you would like.

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: When Frank’s coworkers notice you a little too much after you bring him his forgotten lunch, you want to remind him that he’s the only man for you, but Frank’s a generous lover, and you’re not leaving the truck until he’s made you come at least three times.

(Warnings: oh boy, smut, SMUT, did I mention smut??, porn with plot, v fingering, hand job sort of??, oral (fem receiving), p in v, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie lol, truck sex, soooo much kissing, protective Frank, you save the horse and ride the cowboy – know what I mean??, Frank talks you through it!!!!!, mentions of oral (male receiving), Frank is a consent king, Frank will be damned if anything bad happens to his baby girl!!!)

Frank eyed the clock, a nervous tick he’d developed over the last three hours as he waited for lunchtime to roll around. On any other day, lunch would’ve come and gone without a second thought from Frank, but not today. In his hurry to get to work this morning, he’d left the lunch you’d generously packed for him the night before. It was your fault, technically, but Frank was a gentleman, and gentlemen weren’t supposed to blame their girlfriends for forgotten lunches, especially when it was the incredible head you were giving him that made him late leaving this morning.

He'd gotten shit for it the minute he stepped on the site, barely getting a chance to pour his coffee before the guys were on his ass about his punch card. Frank brushed it off. It was all in good fun anyways, and he was the boss around here, so it didn’t really matter if he was late once in a blue moon. He didn’t divulge the reason for his tardiness, much more inclined to grunt a “fuck off” towards the guys and start his work for the day.

The nervousness set it when you called and told him you’d bring his lunch to him. The guys knew almost nothing about Frank’s personal life, which is what he preferred. They didn’t know anything about his past, and they certainly didn’t know about you. What he had going on before and after work hours was none of their business, you were none of their business, but that would change any minute.

“You got a hot date or something, man?” Antonio, one of the only guys Frank tolerated, asked as they moved a stack of wooden beams towards what would eventually become a master bedroom.

“What?” Frank lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at Antonio.

“You’ve checked the clock more in the last 25 minutes than I do on Friday afternoons. You expectin’ somethin’?”

Frank let out a nervous chuckle, which did little to subside Antonio’s curiosity. Instead, intense concern crossed Antonio’s face, and Frank sighed, shaking his head. His brain felt like it had been rewired, and he had no idea how to respond to Antonio’s question without causing more questions. He didn’t have a chance to respond, though, because the sound of clicking heels had caused heads to turn faster than Frank knew was possible.

Frank turned, relaxing when he spotted you. You smiled and waved, ignoring the men around you that were clearly enamored by your presence. Frank couldn’t blame them – you were beautiful – but that didn’t keep the bubble of anger from welling up inside his chest. You were his, and if he was going to make one thing clear to them today, it was that.

Frank marched up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body into his chest. He pressed a sultry kiss to your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth in his way of saying hello. When you pulled away, you were smiling, and Frank couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than that damned smile of yours.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned, slightly ashamed that he’d let his jealousy get the best of him in front of the guys that worked for him. It was definitely unprofessional to make out with your significant other in the middle of an active construction site while the entirety of your team gawked at your display of affection, right?

“That’s lunch.” He called out, not taking his eyes off yours.

The guys filed out, some with smirks on their faces, others with nothing but food on their minds. Antonio was smiling when he walked past the both of you, wiggling his eyebrows at Frank. Frank rolled his eyes, trying to remind himself why he barely tolerated the kid.

“Speaking of lunch,” you smiled, eyes bright and adoring as you looked at Frank, “Where do you want to eat? I’m not sure I can handle the roof.”

You were all too aware of Frank’s frequent lunch spots. Sitting a the top of buildings that were half constructed, legs hanging over the edge, was Frank’s favorite way to spend lunch, much to your chagrin. You were terrified of heights and refused to even think about how dangerous Frank’s lunch activities were.

“You want to stay?” Frank asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course! As long as we’re not eating on the roof.” You pointed upwards for emphasis, shaking your head.

“I guess I could change up my lunch spot for the day.” Frank faked an exasperated sigh. “What about my truck?”

“Sounds good to me, babe.” You smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the front of what would eventually be a nice house in a nice neighborhood outside of Brooklyn. A house that Frank wished he could afford to buy for you. Hell, he’d build you a house if he could afford the land to build it on. You didn’t mind the small apartment you and Frank shared, but Frank couldn’t help the incessant desire to spoil you.

It was a brisk 35 degrees outside, and you bundled into Frank’s side as he opened the passenger side door for you. Frank hustled to the other side of the truck, quickly shutting the door behind him and starting the truck. The heat blasting from the vents was a welcome warmth, and Frank couldn’t shake the tiny sliver of guilt that sliced through him when you began blowing in your hands to warm them up. If he’d just remembered the fucking lunch box, you wouldn’t be sitting in the cold right now.

“Damn, the heat works so well in here.” You observed, holding your hands in the path of the hot air.

“One of the perks of being the boss, I guess.” Frank shrugged. The truck was a necessary purchase, especially once Frank’s work picked up, but you still weren’t used to it. You’d spent so many years taking the subway to get places that having access to a vehicle was a foreign concept to you. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here just to bring me lunch.”

“Don’t apologize. I like to see what you’re working on. I wish you’d let me come by more often.”

“You’d be bored. It’s just a bunch of sweaty old guys hammering nails.”

“Sounds like a wet dream to me.” You smirked, clearly joking at Frank’s expense. “I didn’t realize I’d cause such a fuss by showing up.”

Frank shrugged. “If any of them say a single word about you after lunch, I’m gonna break their jaws.”

“Frank, baby, relax.” You ran your hand up his arm. “Even if they do say something, it’s probably just because they had no idea I even existed.”

“I don’t like them knowing about you. You’re mine.”

Frank was aware that what he was saying was insane, but he never cared much about his sanity when it came to protecting the woman he loved. He’d be damned if another person was taken from him, and if that made him crazy, then so be it. Frank Castle would take crazy over mourning any day of the week.

You crept closer to Frank, shifting so that you could lean your elbow against the back of the bench seat.

“Them knowing about me doesn’t change that I’m yours, Frankie.”

Frank grunted, annoyance running through his veins. He knew you were right, but the fact that the guys were probably running their mouths about his relationship with you right now was getting on his nerves. He didn’t want you anywhere near their fucked up thoughts.

“You’re so tense, Frankie.” You mumbled, eyeing the way Frank was clenching and unclenching his fist in an irregular pattern. “Let me help you.”

This got his attention. His head swiveled around, eyebrows raised, as he looked to you for confirmation on what you’d just said. You matched his expression, unwilling to move until he consented to your idea.

“Yeah? You wanna help me?” He asked, already leaning back to make room for you to climb onto his lap.

“You could eat your lunch instead.” You mumbled, “If that’s what you want.”

Frank slowly shook his head, watching the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

“No.”

“You’re not hungry?” You asked, inching closer to him.

“Oh, I’m hungry.” Frank conceded, “But I’d rather have you for lunch.”

This omission sent a spark through your body, and you lurched forward, swinging your leg over his hip to straddle him. You looked down at him, enjoying the way his face already seemed more relaxed than moments before. You pressed a soft kiss on the crease of his forehead, the one that always made an appearance when he was stressing about something, and watched as it smoothed itself out.

Frank tilted his chin up, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His hand snaked up your back, curling his fingers in your hair and gently pulling on it, which elicited the most delicious gasp he’d ever heard slip from between your lips. He decided right then and there that if that sound was the last thing he ever heard, he’d die the happiest death a man could ask for.

He slammed his lips onto yours, unable to constrain himself any longer. His hands found themselves wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You grinded yourself against him, moaning against Frank’s lips when you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him again, letting out a devilish groan when the friction of the movement rubbed against your clit.

“Frank,” you moaned in between kisses, “touch me.”

It wasn’t just a desire to please you; it was a need. Frank was nothing if not generous, and the minute you started begging, he had already unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, shoving his hand down the front of your pants. Frank let out a loud groan when he realized how entirely soaked through your panties were, clenching the fingers that were fiddling with the waistband of your jeans.

You pushed your hips closer to his hand, dying to feel his fingers. The panting coming from the both of you had fogged up the windows of the truck, obstructing anyone’s view into the truck. The construction site was dead anyways, but at this point, you didn’t think you cared if someone could see in. You wanted Frank so badly that you had lost your ability to care about anything besides Frank’s fingers.

“Want me to touch you, baby?” Frank cooed, “Want me to make your pretty pussy feel good?”

Frank’s breath was hot on your neck, and you nearly came from his words alone.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” You moaned, grinding your hips against Frank’s fingers again. Your actions completely juxtaposed your words, but you couldn’t help yourself. Frank was just so good at making you come.

“Making you feel good makes me feel good, sweetheart.” Frank pressed the pads of his fingers against the fabric of your panties, swirling them around in an achingly slow circle. A shiver worked its way up your spine, and you threw your head back, gasping with pleasure.

“Are you sure?” You panted, unsure if you could stand being clothed for another second.

Frank responded by swiping your underwear aside and running two fingers between the folds of your pussy. When his fingers finally covered your clit, you let out an agonizing moan. Frank resumed circling his fingers around your clit, but his pace was more urgent, like he wanted to see you get off on his fingers just as much as you wanted to come all over his hand.

Your legs began to shake, and you wrapped your arms around Frank’s neck, pulling him into a feverish kiss. His tongue dipped into your mouth, and you began to grind against his fingers in a rhythm that matched the pace of his hand. It was a flurry of passionate kisses and sinful moans as you came apart on Frank’s hand. You breathed through the orgasm as it crashed through you, slumping against Frank’s shoulder in exhaustion.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Frank pulled his hand away from your clit, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you over so that your back lied against the front seat of the truck, “You did so good.”

Frank hovered over you, pressing a soft kiss onto your nose before gently capturing your lips with his. You were still reeling from your orgasm, content to stay in this position forever, when Frank suddenly sat up. You blinked up at him, wondering if maybe his lunch was already over, but the way he began to pull your jeans down your hips told you he was nowhere near done with you.

You kicked your jeans and panties off, pussy clenching around nothing as the air hit your wet core. You spread your legs further, giving Frank a view of how easily he’d ruined you.

“Fuck baby,” Frank groaned, rubbing his thumb through the slickness that had begun running down your inner thighs, “This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You moaned when he began playing with your clit again, overstimulated but too turned on to stop him.

“Can I taste you?” Frank asked, fully focused on how wet you were. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with desire.

“You’re being too generous.” You sat up, resting on your elbows as he finally locked eyes with you.

“I want to.” He shrugged, already positioning his face near your core. He threw your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands on your stomach, glancing up at you to make sure he had your consent. You spread your legs wider, nodding.

“I need words, baby. Can I taste you?”

Frank’s hot breath coasted over your pussy as he spoke, and the dull throb of desire erupted into a full blown ache.

“Yes, God, please.” You whined.

When his tongue finally met your core, you threw your head back and moaned so loud you were sure the entire neighborhood heard it. Frank was astonishingly graceful at eating pussy, approaching it like it was a dance between his tongue and your clit. He knew exactly when to be gentle, when to roughen it up, and when you were seconds away from coming all over his tongue, he knew exactly how to suck on your clit so that you saw stars for hours afterwards.

Frank normally liked to take his time with this, coaxing multiple small orgasms out of you before finally letting you fall apart around his mouth, but today he was on a time crunch, and he wanted to make you come around his cock before his lunch break was over, too. So instead of going slow and steady, Frank dined on your pussy like a man starved. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, licking and sucking all throughout your core as you came closer and closer to your orgasm. He teased your entrance with his tongue, coasting over it every time he flattened his tongue against your folds.

“Oh shit, Frank.” You groaned, arching your back.

He hummed against your pussy, which had your legs shaking so aggressively that he had to clamp his hands over them to keep them from sliding off his shoulders. You were so close, and Frank knew it. He smirked against your core, trailing his tongue around your clit before slightly sucking. Your body felt like it was on fire, and when the crux of your orgasm finally hit you, you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs into the sides of Frank’s head. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, and no matter how deeply you inhaled, you couldn’t quite catch your breath. The world around you faded, and the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Frank’s hands gently caressing your thighs.

Frank crawled up your body, hovering over you as you came back to yourself. You hadn’t expected to come that hard, especially not in a cramped space like Frank’s car, but he always managed to surprise you.

You swallowed thickly, blinking up at his swollen and slick lips. He was always beautiful, you thought, but right now, you’d never seen anything as beautiful as him covered in your wetness. You leaned upwards, kissing him with every ounce of yourself that you could. The taste of you was still fresh on his tongue, and he groaned when you swiped your tongue against his, grinding against your unclothed pussy with his denim jeans.

The friction was overstimulating, but you wanted him deep inside you so badly that you began meeting his hips halfway, grinding against him so heavily that you were sure he’d have stains on the front of his jeans later. He shifted his weight onto one arm, reaching down and unbuckling his belt with one had. He was moving at a languid pace, and you couldn’t stop yourself from knocking his hand out of the way and unbuttoning his jeans. He chuckled when you undid his zipper in record time, forcing his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs.

“Someone’s eager to feel my cock, huh?” Frank cooed, brushing his nose against yours, “You want me to fuck you silly, sweetheart?”

You wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock, pumping up and down as he teased you. The tip was already wet, drops of precum beading at the head.

“Can I ride you?” You asked, pushing his shoulders slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at your boldness. You were usually so eager to let him control the situation, but the look in your eyes when you spoke told a different story. You wanted to make him feel good, and you weren’t planning on letting him leave until that happened.

“Sometimes,” you started, sitting up and pushing Frank down into the seat underneath you, “I want to be the one to fuck you silly.”

You straddled Frank and lined him up with your entrance. You were not going to waste any more of his break not fucking him. Frank let out a stuttering moan as you lowered yourself onto him. When you were finally full of him, stretched out and pliant, you panted at the overwhelming feeling. No matter how many times Frank fucked you, it always took you a few moments to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Frank leaned his head against the headrest, grabbing onto your hips in a brutal hold that you knew would bruise later.

You slowly began to rock against him, holding onto the seat behind him for leverage. You moaned when his cock pushed against the spot deep within you that drove you crazy, and couldn’t help the way your breath stuttered out of you. Frank angled his face towards yours, watching in awe as you panted over him, licking your lips and squeezing your eyes closed. He leaned toward you, nipping your jaw with his teeth in a teasing gesture. You ground down on him even harder, and he chuckled.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” Frank hummed, running his nose along the curve of your cheekbone. “Your pretty pussy drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Yeah?” You mumbled, picking up your rhythm as you grinded against him. You yelped when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, bucking up into you so hard that you swore you saw stars.

“Can’t think about anything else some days.” Frank nuzzled his cheek against yours, tightening his hold around you. “You’re fucking perfect, baby.”

You mewled at his praise, even though you had made it clear that you wanted to be the one making him feel good, not the other way around. You couldn’t help but mewl. He always knew what to say to make your chest warm and fuzzy, even when he was fucking up into you so hard that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week.

“C’mon baby girl,” Frank’s tone was low and delicious, and the tingle that worked its way up your spine told you exactly how much you liked the sound of it, “Give me one more, baby.”

“Frank, I-” You let out a guttural moan when you felt his fingers tracing a circle around your clit. Your legs began to shake again, and you knew you were seconds away from coming again. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” You finally panted, quickening your pace as you grinded against his cock and fingers.

“I want you to come on my cock, sweetheart.” Frank smirked as you squeezed around him, “That will make me feel good, baby. Can you do that for me, baby girl? Hmm? I know you can. Make me feel good, sweet girl. Come on my cock.”

Frank was talking you through it, and you could not fathom how incredibly hot it was. The intensity at which your orgasm hit you was earth-shattering, and if the neighborhood hadn’t heard you earlier, they certainly heard you this time. You rocked against Frank, whining and panting and doing everything in your power not to fall apart completely before he could reach his high as well.

“My good girl,” Frank wrapped both arms around your waist, pulling your chest against his so that he could kiss you all over your face, “You did so good, sweetheart.”

His praise made you whine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from slamming your lips into his, quickening your pace as you grinded against him. It was overstimulating, sure, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than Frank coming deep inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Frank mumbled against your lips, tightening his arms around you, “’m gonna come.”

“Come in me,” you panted, squeezing around his cock.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill you up?” Frank was breathing so heavy against your ear that goosebumps littered down your back and shoulders. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he pounded up into you, and when he finally came, warm spurts of come coating your walls, you both slumped against each other, worn out and sweaty.

Frank’s heart was pounding in his chest, and you subconsciously tapped your finger against his neck in the same rhythm until it finally calmed down. You leaned back, glancing over Frank’s features. His eyes were closed, chin tilted upwards in a relaxed, casual position. The stress creases in his face were long gone, and he looked a decade younger than he did when you’d shown up earlier.

“Wish we could stay like this.” He mumbled, running his fingers along your thighs.

“Me too, Frankie.” You nodded, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “How much time until you have to go back?”

Frank slightly opened one of his eyes, checking the clock on the dash before closing it again. “Just enough time to drop you off at home and come back. The guys will appreciate the extended lunch.”

You shook your head. “I can get an uber or take the subway, Frank. You don’t have to drive me.”

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t drive my beautiful girlfriend home after she came all the way here to bring me lunch and make me feel good?”

“A normal one.” You snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Well then I guess I ain’t normal.” Frank smiled, leaning in to kiss you before tapping your thigh with his hand. “I hate to say it, but I can’t drive with you straddlin’ me like this.”

You lifted yourself off him, rolling over into the passenger seat. Your limbs still buzzed with pleasure, and it took you longer than you care to admit to find your panties and put them back on. You were pulling your jeans over your hips when Frank began to roll the windows down and wipe the windshield off. You and him had emitted enough fog that it was impossible to see out of any of the windows, let alone drive.

When the windows were finally cleared and Frank had texted Antonio to let him know he’d be a few minutes late getting back from lunch (Antonio’s only response was the winking emoji), Frank drove you back to the apartment you shared with him. He walked you to the door, kissed you goodbye, turned, then turned back to kiss you again.

“I left your lunch on the passenger seat, okay? It should still be warm with how hot the truck was earlier.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Frank grinned, pulling you in for a third goodbye kiss.

You finally pushed him off you, chuckling when he tried to chase your lips with his.

“Go to work, Frank. I’ll see you tonight.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes, giving you a final kiss before turning and jogging back to the truck. When you closed the door and locked it, you slumped towards the bedroom, the only thing on your mind being the nap you were about to take.

Frank ate his lunch on the drive back to the construction site, nearly getting choked up when he realized you had gotten him Lombardi’s pizza. You knew how much he loved it, and he vowed to show you how grateful he was when he returned home. When he made it back to the site, he was only half an hour late, but that didn’t stop the guys from joking with him about it.

“Twice in one day, boss? She worth it?”

“Must be. He doesn’t look half as grumpy as he usually does.”

Frank rolled his eyes, counting to ten as a way to manage his anger before outwardly responding.

“If any of you fuckers have anything else to say about her, I’ll bash your heads in with the sledgehammer. Got it?”

Frank glanced at the faces around him. So much for managing his anger. Antonio was the only one that didn’t look utterly terrified as they returned to work.

“So, boss.” Antonio started, smirking as he leaned against one of the structural beams.

“Don’t you start.” Frank pointed at him for emphasis, warning the kid away from any topics he may regret bringing up. He really wasn’t a bad kid, and he was one of the hardest workers Frank had encountered in the business, but he did not want to discuss his love life with his 22 year old employee.

“I was just going to ask how much plaster you think we’ll need for the bathroom.” Antonio pointed behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the space that would soon be an ensuite.

“Sure you were.” Frank couldn’t wait to end the day and crawl into your loving arms, but he had a shit ton of work to do before then, and he would always be the last one on site for the evening.

Later that evening, after he’d finally trudged through the door, showered, and ravished you, you were caressing his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“So,” you murmured, “D’ya break any jaws after I left?”

“You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t break any jaws after you left.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He asked.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t lose your shit on anyone after I left today?”

“No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I said. I definitely lost my shit, but I didn’t break anyone’s jaw.”

“Oh, that’s good.” You mumbled sarcastically, rolling your eyes and chuckling.

You nuzzled into his chest, relaxing as he enveloped you with warmth.

“I love you, sweet girl. I’m not ashamed of that. Hell, I’ll shout it from the rooftop if you want me to. I just don’t like people knowing my business. I want to keep you safe.”

“I know, Frankie. I’m not upset about it. I love you too.”

“You promise?”

“That I love you?” You smirked against his chest.

“No, smart ass. That you’re not upset.”

“I promise.” You grinned as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

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c00kietin · 5 months

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Since I probably won't be online as much tomorrow (December 25) for obvious reasons, I'll say this in advance and have it in queue for tomorrow.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL WHO READS THIS AND TO ALL A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (ALSO HAVE A GREAT HANUKKAH IF YOU CELEBRATE IT!!)

I probably won't list off all of my followers (nothing personal, just takes too long for my little brain) but to the people that have interacted with me: (VERY LONG POST)

@godofautism / @godofautismnumber2 - you are one of my first followers, and even with how many followers you have, you still talk with me and I'm so grateful for that. You are an amazing, friendly and a very fun person, never forget it! <33

@ofthefrogs - YOU. ARE SO KIND!!!!!!!! your drawings are so sweet and wholesome and bring a smile to my face- you as a whole bring a smile to my face. As I'm writing this, it's also your birthday- so happy birthday! May both your birthday and Christmas be loads of fun! :D

@taperecorder-gizmo - my dear guardian. My parent. I think you already know how much I love you. That first time you drew me, with your sona holding an octobunny, I was ecstatic. I immediately showed my sister, and she can tell you I danced like a leprechaun. And even a more recent time, when you drew Roxie, that had me squealing like crazy! I could probably write a Bible-length book on how much I love ya and how much of an amazing person you are, but I have other mutuals to talk about. Thank you so much for your kindness and your incredible art skills, and I love you loads!

@trashyandtiredsol - you were one of the firsts to become "my biggest fan" (as in liking/reblogging a bunch of my stuff) and you still are! I love your art as well (I'm so lucky to be friends with so much artists!!!) and I am so grateful for every like and reblog you've done on my posts. Love you loads, and thank you so much for your kindness.

@allmightyscroll-swag - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA/pos!!!! You helped me show my ocs to people other than my sister, and to be honest, now I love drawing them! Every response you make has me giddy with excitement and smiling like a madman. Know that you are amazing and kind like all of my moots and you are more than welcome to tag me in your art too if you want to! <<33

@chiperti - Hi!!! I know we haven't chatted in a while, but just know I do really like talking to you (especially bout music hehehe)!!! Your art is so pretty and amazing and seeing you post new art always makes me excited! You have a superb taste in music, and one of the many super cool people I've met on Tumblr.

@a-had-matter - Like chiperti, we may not have chatted in a while, but talking to you is loads of fun as well! You're also probably one of the first people that I've had a fully blown conversation with- you and many other people help me talk a lot more, and I'm grateful for that! Thank you so much for all your friendliness, your kindness, and also have a merry Christmas. :]

@glastly - I love your art. I love your art. I love your art. Have I told you how much I love your art? BECAUSE I LOVE YOUR ART!!!! Not only that, but I am so thankful to have you as a mutual of mine and your compliments make me feel AMAZING! You are super kind and amazing and cool and- Merry Christmas!! :D

@t3ddysramblings - technically your other is following me (@newaccountinbio)- BUT STILL! I'm tagging you because I adore your art so much and having you respond to that Fell Sans I drew a good while back had me bouncing off of the walls!! You are a huge inspiration for me, because I think you already know how stunning your art is!

@deltaswapjevil - Yes, you! Like Sol, you've liked almost all of my stuff, to which I applaud you, Thank you so much for the support, and I appreciate all of your kindness. May your Christmas be a great one! <33

@annelostshoe - First of all, love your sona! Second of all, you are also one of my biggest fans according to Tumblr- you've liked and reblogged so much of my stuff, and I am grateful for all the support you've given me! :DD

@lumashoes - HELLO!!! You are one of my first followers, and I'm glad you're still with me! You are a very kind and friendly person, and I'm thankful to have you as my moot! Have a great Christmas!! <33

@gummy-worms-in-my-brain - The fact that you're following me still makes me giddy so much asdfggfgdfsddfgfhg- your art is so SO pretty, and that first time that you drew those Christmas cookies for me, that had me kicking my feet and squealing like a little girl- a very excited one! Thank you so much for all your compliments and support, I appreciate your kindness dearly. :>

@mikebeanz - Hello!! Back when I was starting out and had like 20 followers, I noticed how a good few of them were following you, As you do, I followed you too and I silently loved your content- if that makes sense lol. You're so kind, so friendly, funny and an amazing artist, I was like "damn. I wanna talk to that guy". And the fact that we're mutuals now makes me so happy. Thank you so much for your positivity that brings a smile to my face. <<333

*cracks knuckles and gets prepared for more typing, questioning what the limit is*

@mikey-rottmnt @ghosty-0w0 @angelosorangebandana - hope yall don't mind being grouped into one- but IRISH SQUAD!!! you all are so fun to be with and I love being on Whiteboard with you! @mikey-rottmnt, that time that you drew me made me the happiest bean on EARTH!! It was also one of the first fanart pieces I recieved, and I still adore it!! Thank you all so much for your kindness and positivity, and I hope you receive amazing presents this year!! :DD

@mellybabbles - you. make. me. sso. SO HAPPY!!! Like, really. I mean it. Talking to you gives me that boost of happy vibes that keep me going throughout the day, and I thank you so much for those lil "how are yous". You are all the positive adjectives!! Also, spectacular taste in birds ya kiwi lover!!!! <333

@crazed-rambler - congrats on the burning!! Like many of your other followers have said, you are an amazingly kind and awesome person that we are so grateful to have you as a friend! Never forget how incredible you are, and just before you type something like "I don't think so", or "X for Doubt", DON'T. YOU ARE AMAZING. NEVER TELL YOURSELF OTHERWISE.

@moonys-chaos - another fan!! Thank you so very much for your likes and reblogs, and doing that "going to jail because of your search history with @mikey-rottmnt" with ya made me laugh my ass off- it was very fun to me hehe. You are very cool, and I wish you a wonderful Christmas. :3

@oneshortlove - *gives you a million hugs* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!! I LOVE YA SO MUCH!!! YOUR KIND WORDS, YOUR DRAWINGS, AH-they make me so, so happy!!! Your sona is adorable, and you are one of the nicest, sweetest people I've met on this platform! I hope your Christmas is a brilliant one and you have a wonderful new year!!

@goomykazoomy - hi!!! I hope that you're doing well!! Like a-had-matter, talking to you has helped me crawl out of my shell and talk more about myself to other people. Chatting with you is a blast, you are incredibly kind, nice and funny, and I love your art! Also, your sona is so cute and I love em sm :3 Have an amazing Christmas, friend!

@artistheworld - I know we're new to each other, but I'm gonna mention you here because of how kind you've already been to me- I love your art so much and I adore every compliment you give me! Have a very merry Christmas!!

Okay I'm sorry that I'm grouping up some of all but my creative juices are beginning to run out lol-

@sillyallthetime @clownpalette @hiro-doodlez @paintaya @m-iivy- HELLO??? HOW ARE WE MOOTS?! LIKE- ALL OF YOUR ARTWORK IS SO PRETTY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH- all of your art styles, your colours, I adore it all! Thank you guys so much for following me, It makes me feel so happy. <3

@kanaede-kun @artsandstoriesandstuff @wishtale-blogs @little-creecher @little-silly-things @it-came-from-mount-ebott @italic-does-random-shit @m3l0man14c @panda-of-the-trash @minophlia @largefound @lemonmint-the-neko @spikeygrrl @qeelovestea @holdmyteaplease @motherarts @justmesadlysry- Imma say it right now- we may not interact with each other a lot, but I platonically love yall. Like. Seriously. You are amazing people and I love your content, not to mention how kind you all are. I may have used that word a lot now, but I mean it every single time. @artsandstoriesandstuff, I want to thank you as well for drawing Roxie, for that made me squeal and giggle and smile and all sorts of happy things!! I hope all of your Christmases are wonderful and fun and that you may have a great 2024. <3333

AND NOW, TO MY FOLLOWERS THAT I MAY NOT HAVE MENTIONED ON MY LIST- c'mere. I appreciate you all. Every like and reblog you do, I can see it (which sounds creepy but I mean it in a positive way lol). I love and appreciate all of your support, really. Whether your content is art, talking or simply reblogs, I love you all and what you do, I am so lucky to have amazing people like you enjoying my content, and you all deserve the best. Pretend I'm handing you a fuzzy blanket and a plate of cookies, because that's what you deserve.

Silly Tumblr won't let me add more, so I am now done. Mic drop.

#*dies*#merry christmas #merry crisis #merry chrysler #not art #talking #long post #thank you all for an amazing year <33 #may next year be filled with love for all of you!

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yesloulou · 11 months

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Do u have any tips/tutorial how to make gifs so smooth if there's movement? Mine are always choppy and weird :(

Hi anon, ty for sending this ask. I'm sooo honored!! (and plz don't call your gifs choppy or weird i have a feeling they're very lovely 😌)

✨ Gif Tutorial: making movements in ur gifs as smooth as possible✨ (updated)

↳ aka: speed management in gif making

Remember to always source your content responsibly!! Process in this tutorial is simply what works best for me. Every creator has their own preferences and imo there is no right or wrong. We should always make content in the way we enjoy 🤍 Outline: 1. Remove duplicate frames 2. Repair missing frames 3. Speed management in Photoshop 4. Smoother slomo using Video Frame Interpolation

1. Remove duplicate frames

Obviously, if there're duplicate frames in a video, our gifs will end up with lil lags here and there (since some frames get more screen time than others). Although the dup frames are likely barely observable once compiled into gifs, imo this is what makes the difference between smooth and butter smooth. the two daniel gifs above (guy with big brown eyes, if ur not from our fandom 🤍) can hopefully showcase this difference**.

**technical explanation for this that you can totally skip: the persistence of human vision is approx. 0.1s, ie everything we see stay on our retina for this amount of time. since gifs refresh faster than this (eg. 0.04s on every frame for a 25 fps gif), we usually can't pinpoint exactly which frame is a duplicate just by looking at a gif. however. by definition, a duplicate frame will slow down a gif, by making it pause longer than it should. as a result, a movement during this lil chunk of time will move less pixels than your brain would've expected. and this is where we perceive the not-so-smoothness.

ok, now that we've established that we don't like duplicate frames -- I know it's common practice to handle this by looking for an optimal output frame rate to offset the dupes. to me this feels chancy. bc it's a process where you don't have control over exactly which frames to keep and not keep. Personally, I prefer making sure my videos are dupe free before everything else. (Again, this is just what works for me. Everybody has their own process and imo there is no right or wrong :)

To remove duplicate frames, the first thing I do with a clip is to play the first few seconds frame by frame to see which one of the following scenarios it falls into:

a. no duplicate frames ↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 2 b. there is a duplicated frame once in a while ↳ This happens most often with (but not limited to) videos from social medias ↳ Reason behind this is frame rate conversion. For instance, instagram/tiktok has a default frame rate of 30 fps. However, many media sources (eg. no brakes, sharl's vlogs) produce at 25 fps. When these videos are uploaded, instagram/tiktok convert them from 25 to 30 fps by duplicating 1 frame every 5 frames, hence twitchiness in gifs when slowed down. ↳ Solution: in photoshop, go through the clip frame by frame, delete dupes manually (recommended) ↳ Alternative solution: use duplicate frames remover softwares (see next bullet point) c. almost every frame has duplicates ↳ This will almost always** be the case with screen record. ↳ What not to do: When there are many duplicates, we may be tempted to use photoshop's 'import 1 out of every n frames' function. this is not ideal bc, the dupes are rarely uniformly distributed. you could end up losing frames you don't want to lose (resulting in choppy gifs) or end up with dup frames still in the mix (resulting in laggy gifs) or, most likely: both. ↳ A better way: is to import all frames into photoshop, adjust the output frame rate to offset the dupes (here is a good tutorial on this) Pros: efficiency; yields decent results in most cases. Cons: again, in my experience this is a process where you don't have precise control over the frames. Therefore runs the same (albeit smaller) risks as the method above. It can also limit how much you can slow down a gif, and generally doesn't work well if the target frame rate (of the clip you're trying to gif) exceeds your computer's recording rate**. **More on this statement: when target rate is comfortably lower than recording rate (~ 55 fps for many), chances are most to all frames will be captured. It is therefore more tolerating towards skipping a unique frame from time to time. However, when target rate (i.e. anything 60 fps) nears or exceeds recording rate, you will be dealing with dup frames as well as missing ones. Using the method above can therefore subject you to the possibility of losing two unique frames in a row, making the gifs noticeably choppy. ↳ Solution: we always have the option to trim dupes by hand in photoshop. But in this case, it can be time consuming, even with keyboard shortcuts. as a result, here is where we can really use a: ↳ Dup remover software: google search 'dup frame remover software' will give you several options and tutorials (here a plug-in for after effects). i've heard good things about some of these but unfortunately can't give recommendations (they do cost money sooo i wrote my own)

Demonstration:

This is a frame-by-frame animation of an ad Charles did for apm. It was produced at 25 fps & uploaded to socmed where the default is 30 fps. You can see that: i. With screen recording, every frame has an unpredictable amount of duplicates. ii. Original clip from instagram has 1 dup frame every 5 frames. iii. After deduplication, the movement becomes lag free and continuous.

2. Repair missing frames

At this point, our video clip is (hopefully) free of duplicate frames, which makes our gifs lag-free (yayy!!). At the same time, we don't want choppiness in our gifs either. Choppiness in a gif is usually caused by missing key (unique) frames. To check if there is any, replay the clip, look out for the sudden jumps/fast forwards in movements. Three possible scenarios:

a. no missing frames ↳ best case scenario! congrats!! plz proceed directly to step 3 b. a lot of missing frames ↳ This is usually the case if the target frame rate (of the clip you want to gif) exceeds the screen recording frame rate. ↳ Solution, imo: (surprise!) is to leave things be. Reason is that something like this would be quite tedious to fix, but not that noticeable if made into a gif that's fast enough ↳ Alternative solution: Record at 120 fps c. occasional missing frames If a video clip misses frames, but not a lot, chances are it's only gonna happen very occasionally, i.e. 1 or 2 occurrences in total. A frame-miss in this case is usually due to either the screen recording skipping a frame by mistake (in a 'slipping thru the cracks' sort of way)**, or that the original video misses frames/contains bad frames to begin with. **To my understanding, even if recording at a frame rate comfortably higher than target rate, something like this could still happen since a common denominator between the two rates will always exist. ↳ Solution (for screen recordings): record again, find missing frame (chances are it will be captured on a second try), insert frame back into original timeline in PS ↳ Solution (if video misses frames or contains bad frames to begin with): Let's talk about ✨ VFI ✨. VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), achieve smoother slomos, and by definition, also help with missing/bad frames. There are many software products that let you use VFI by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. Afterwards, all we need to do is to find the missing frame generated by the app & insert it back into the original timeline in PS (ahh technology). For more info on VFI, see "4. Smoother slomo". ↳ Note that VFI processed footages will likely differ slightly from the originals in terms of colors & lightings. This may be tuned out using clipping masks (allow a group of adjustment layers to only apply to one frame/layer, keyboard shortcut: Command+Opt+G)

3. Speed Management in Photoshop (✨ updated ✨)

At this point, our clip is without dupe or missing frames (or at least as close as can be). Whether you dodged the first 2 steps like a breeze or freshly emerged victorious from photoshop covered in blood to get here, good news is, things will be very straightforward for this point on. congrats!!!

🎉🎊🎉

As mentioned before, in terms of smoothness, our clip is now in ideal shape. The important thing is to keep it this way throughout the rest of the process. My workflow looks something like this:

Open file, crop, resize, sharpen, color, export gif, reopen gif in photoshop (which won't compromise quality), assign frame delay, export finalized gif

If you're used to finding a comfortable frame delay or speed/duration combo at the beginning, this process might feel unnatural. But it's so so so so important to leave the speed related settings alone until right before exporting. Here's why:

By not converting frames with modified delays into timelines with fps, we avoid having to give our finished product a frame rate (which photoshop timelines have to specify). This is crucial bc, there is no such a thing as frame rates in gifs. According to the syntax of GIF89a (the current '.gif' format, screenshot below), gifs control their speeds through (and only through) how much time to wait in between frames, aka delay time. Our process above does exactly that. It compiles frames directly into gifs, and avoids expressing frame delays (a gif concept) through frame rates (a photoshop concept), a conversion where dupe frames and missing frames come from**. In other words, using frame delays to control speed is simply more natural to a gif's syntax. **Why would this conversion cause dupe frames? ↳ On paper, frame delays should translate into frame rates seamlessly (i.e. 1 second ÷ 0.06s per frame = 16.67 fps). In reality, photoshop does not support direct translations like this. When converting frame animations into timelines, PS defaults outputs to 30 fps, regardless of frame delays. This disagreement between frame rates is where dupe frames come from. ↳ Some examples: i. Consider a frame animation where frame delay = 0.04s (25 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 5 out of every 25 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-25=5) ii. Now, consider a frame delay = 0.06s (16.67 fps roughly 17 fps), to convert it into a timeline defaulted at 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will be 'duplicated' by photoshop (30-17=13) ↳ (the 'duplicated' was in quotes bc photoshop achieves this thru assigning a frame roughly twice it's original screen time instead of actually adding another) ↳ (afaik, currently there's no way of changing the default 30 fps as long as u start with frame animations. If anyone does know how please let me know 😳) **Why would this conversion cause missing frames? ↳ This happens when one tries to reverse the harm done by photoshop in prev step by changing the 30 fps frame rate back to what it's supposed to be (using function 'Set Timeline Frame Rate') ↳ Let's use the last example again. As mentioned, to go from 16.67 fps to 30 fps, 13 out of every 17 frames will receive roughly twice its original screen time (0.033s * 2 ≈ 0.07s). On the other hand, 4 out of every 17 frames' screen time will remain the same (0.03s). to go from 30 fps back to 16.67 fps, photoshop resamples frames from its 30 fps timeline in 0.06s intervals. As a result, any frame with screen time less than 0.06s runs the risk of 'slipping through the cracks', namely ones whose screen time remained 0.03s ↳ (gifs require frame delays to be rounded to the nearest hundredth of a second) ** What if I open the file as video object, instead of importing as frames? ↳ Indeed, when opening as video object (i.e. command+o instead of command+i), photoshop inherits its frame rate as is. We would then have the option to manipulate it's speed by right-click ➡️ adjusting the percentage (of how much to speed up or slow down). ↳ Here, if we slow down a gif without changing its frame rate, we risk introducing duplicate frames into the result (since frame rate is now higher than needed). If we slow down a gif and lowered the frame rate, but the math didn't check out, we also risk losing unique frames (frame rate not high enough). The same (opposite) goes for speeding things up. Therefore the best and easiest approach is, again, leaving speed related settings alone until right before exporting.

(the block of GIF89a syntax responsible for graphic control:)

Ok in hindsight this probably isn't exactly like. the most straightforward thing ever but the execution part is very much so 😳 here goes:

1. Open file in PS via Command + O note the (25 fps) on bottom left

without changing speed, duration, or frame rate: 2. Trim ✂️ 3. Crop 4. Resize 5. Sharpen 6. Color

(Updated!!!) 6. Export gif, and then reopen it in Photoshop **Compare to the original method (timeline into smart object, smart object back into frames), the updated method has the following benefits: i. Avoid lowering gif quality by converting into smart objectsii. Reopening gif into frames and reassign frame delay saves time (bc less steps) and won't hurt the quality at all (bc no image processing required)

7. Assign Frame Delay (i usually go with original frame delay + 0.01s) 8. Export ✨

Tada!! Speed = managed!!

This ad actually came out last December where I was aware of like, maybe 5% of what's in this post. Here is what my original gif looks like. I'd say what we have rn is a big improvement :)

Now, imo there are situations where it simply makes more sense to start with frame animations (imported using command + i). For instance: when we need to remove duplicate frames by hand, when there is a missing frame/bad frame that needs to be repaired, etc. My workflow would then look like this:

1. Command + i 2. (do things to frames) 3. Set frame delay to 0.03s 4. Convert to video timeline 5. (the rest will look exactly like the workflow above)

This works bc when frame delay is set to 0.03s, photoshop will treat your video timeline as a "natural" 30 fps timeline and leave your frames alone. Therefore maintaining its uniform speed.

4. Smoother Slomo using Video Frame Interpolation

As mentioned above, VFI (Video Frame Interpolation) is the process of synthesizing in-between images from a given set of images. It can increase videos' frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), hence smoother slomos. There are many software products that let you use VFI by simply dragging videos into the app and clicking 'export'. I've had very good experiences with Topaz and After Effects.

Let's talk about After Effects first. If you have Photoshop, chances are you have AE as well. To use AE's Keyframe Interpolation:

i. Import ii. Set speed to half iii. Click square twice until you see lil arrow iv. Export

Topaz is a production grade video enhancing software. It's capable of enhancing frame rates (i.e. 30 fps to 60 fps), increasing resolutions (i.e. 540p to 4K/2160p) and more. Unlike AE who uses only the two neighboring key frames to generate an in-between frame, Topaz takes the whole sequence into account, hence better reliability. It's also more user friendly than AE imo.

Here is a before-and-after interpolation using Topaz.

That's all 🎉🎉🎉

To sum up: remove dupe frames (if any), repair missing frames (if any), use and only use frame delay to control speed, and software enhance frame rate if needed.

This post got way longer and more technical than I had planned and I honestly have no idea where all this stuff came from lol. But it was really fun and I hope you'll find it helpful. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. Have fun moving-picture making!!

#f1edit #gif tutorial #asks #*#my gif tutorials #photoshop #dailyresources #allresources #completeresources #this was. 3k words?????? what?????

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youkaiyume · 10 months

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Hello, it's been a while since I did a rant. But WARNING for gross medical things:

SO it turns out my old nemesis the ovarian cysts have plagued me again. I found out about three weeks ago when a weird pain wouldn't leave my pelvis and went to urgent care and they suggested a CT scan. ONLY! for my insurance to deny me cuz they think I needed more probable cause for one so my doctor just recommended I go to the ER (which ironically is way more expensive for insurance to pay for than a simple CT scan but they did it to themselves lol).

Turns out I have cysts on BOTH of my ovaries FUN. But the left one is very concerningly big and probably needs to be removed but I can only do so by getting an approval of an OBGYN. So after finding one and waiting for my blood tests to come back so she can determine if she can surgically remove it--

YESTERDAY I had a SUDDEN AND SEVERE pain that hit me. I was at a solid 10 on that pain scale and vomiting and sweating so I drove myself to the ER again for the second time in two weeks. Frustratingly, the MALE doctor came back and was just like "well it looks like while we were doing your ultrasound you weren't consistently experiencing pain" which I was ready to bite his head off because let me tell you. While I was laying stretched out letting them do the ultrasound I was in the worst pain the ENTIRE time. And it was not a short ultrasound. It lasted over 20 mins and even after they asked me if I could survive sitting through the vaginal ultrasound after which would be another 25 mins. And those are painful just for the stick poking around in your yoohoo alone. I begged for pain relievers and when I described it they were like "oh that's labor level pains"

SO Mr. I don't have a Uterus doctor, DON'T TELL ME that your machine says I wasn't in pain. He even hit me with a "well I don't know what your pain tolerance is" as if to minimize or make me feel like I was overblowing what I was feeling. Like, fuck that guy. But because technically the imaging showed that the cysts haven't ruptured or caused my ovaries to twist it was considered "non emergent" and so the just gave me painkillers and then sent me home and reiterated that the only way I could get it removed at this point was to beg my OBGYN and convince her it was an emergency. In the meantime it was "oh you'll have to live with LABOR LIKE PAINS 24/7 until they let you have surgery." In the meantime they said I should only return to the ER after I've took all my pain meds and my pain doesn't improve OR if something worse happens. like a rupture.

WHICH btw are the exact same symptoms I have today so I was like how will I know cuz I can't imagine a worse pain than this one to which they were like "shrug"

I was in tears. Oh but it gets EVEN BETTER. Called my OBGYN this morning and she said my blood tests came back and that unfortunately they detected higher than usual levels of cancer markers in the cyst so that means she can't surgically remove them for me, she has to foist me to an Oncologist so THEY can remove it. She tries to say it doesn't necessarily MEAN cancer but hnnnnnggg that does not help with my anxiety at the moment.

Now calling the Oncologist to make an appointment today was a whole ordeal itself cuz their system kept going to voicemail so I had to call all the departments until they finally let me through but I had to run back to the hospital to try to get my Ultrasound discs for them. But even then they were like "your appointment isn't until next Wednesday" because THATS when the doctor meanders into work. So I'm like OH so like, in the meantime what if something happens??? And they're like well you gotta call back your OBGYN to see if you have other options. Which turns out she is also out. Until Tuesday. So I'm like. Guess I'll die then!

I don't even want kids!!! These ovaries have caused me nothing but trouble!!! Please rip them from my body!!

#And you know when you have nothing to do but curl up and google ovarian cancer #AND it tells you that the longest living patients on average live up to five years #it does make you spiral a bit #I feel like these entire two weeks the entire medical system won't believe me when I say it's an emergency #you sit here with this pain then #you do it #text post #rant #gross medical things

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 1 month

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R&R

Chili Cook-Off! This event will be held in Forward Mess Hall. To enter, contract Master Chef Jonathan Lowell. To attend as a taster, pick up your tickets any time before February 25! Miller just wanted to enjoy his morning off, but he's voluntold to attend the Chili Cook-off. There he runs into some familiar faces. Fernando bullies and gets bullied by his coworkers. Linda socializes and reports back to Blue Team.

Technically a sequel to Backup - the other Miller/Esparza fic that takes place during SpOps.

Also posted to ao3

February 25th, 2558. A perfectly normal Saturday.

4 days since the invasion. Not even two weeks since Castle was shot down on their way to Copernicus base. So much had gone wrong.

The hole in Miller's Fireteam roster yawned ever wider as the campaign pushed everyone to their limits. He had thought he'd lost Crimson too, but their luck had held out so far. But losses were common, regardless of what the propaganda said. It really was only a matter of time.

Get it together, Miller. He thinks to himself and huffs a sigh. At least he can be dramatic and morose in the privacy of his own bunk.

"Good morning, Spartan Miller!"

Never mind, he's not safe anywhere. Maybe he should be grateful that Roland has the decency to wait until he's awake.

"Roland." He sighs and rolls over, glaring at the ceiling. "It's my morning off."

"Was your morning off. Put some pants on so you don't scare my delivery boy. I hope you're hungry!"

Miller grumbles something about pushy AI and pulls on some sweatpants before there's a knock at his door. It's probably Dalton or someone from Crimson in on Roland's scheme. Miller scowls and opens the door.

It's not Dalton or Crimson. It's Linda. 058. Blue Team Linda. Sharp-green-eyes-that-see-into-your-soul Linda. Linda from the speed dating event, who-acted-like-she-wanted-to-win-it Linda. That Linda. At Miller's door. Where he's standing. Shirtless and half awake. Well, he's fully awake now. He stares at her, frozen as the white hot fear and panic turns him to stone. She stares at him, expression blank as usual, maintaining prolonged eye contact as Miller’s brain both empties and goes into overdrive. He goes for casual seconds too late and aborts a half-motion to cover his chest. Playing it off like he went to scratch his neck, he finally regains his grasp of the English language and manages human-like speech.

"Hi." The greeting creaks out his throat.

Linda nods in lieu of a greeting and opens her palm to reveal comically archaic paper tickets. They look small and childish in her hand - so out of place on a warship. Paper tickets, a novelty on their own, but on the Infinity they mean one thing; Morale boosting events. R&R, hand-delivered and Roland-enforced. Miller is doomed. He’s getting roped in. Roland somehow roped Linda (058, his brain supplies, as if leaving the numbers off is rude) to rope Miller into attending.

Miller blinks. Linda doesn't appear to need to. He holds his arm out robotically and receives them. He's unsure what's happening. Surely he’s still dreaming and this social fumble is just a nightmare.

"What are these for?" He asks.

"Chili cook-off. You're a taster." She says, voice cool and calm. Miller can't tell what she's thinking or feeling. Linda’s the most mysterious member of Blue Team because of her quiet and secretive nature. Beyond being the sniper, Miller isn’t really aware of any aspect of her personality. Even Chief emotes more than Linda. Miller thinks Linda lets people see exactly what she wants them to see, which is none of her, most of the time.

"What? This is what Roland was talking about?" He sighs, "I'm sorry you got dragged into this." He is genuinely apologetic. There was something of a Roland blast zone surrounding Miller and those who got too close were collateral for the AI’s whims.

Her head tilts a fraction of a millimeter. "I'm going too." She reveals her own ticket. "See you there." And then she's gone.

Miller blinks and Linda is disappearing down the hall while he stands there like an idiot. He knows he only sees her leave because she wants him to. Why did the "see you there" sound so threatening? IIs were such different beasts from IVs, socially at least. He was fine being a handler and helping on Ops with IIs, but without Fred balancing them out, Blue Team was nigh indecipherable outside a combat setting.

Miller groans. He'd been looking forward to laying around in bed for his morning off. Now he's saddled with expectations. If he doesn't go, Roland won't allow him a moment of peace until he decides Miller's suffering has balanced the scales. He's at the mercy of a fickle AI. He knows Roland knows he knows this. He better get on with it, for his own sake.

Gunmetal gray walls and bright lights greet him as he leaves his room and exits S-Deck to the less Spartan-friendly areas of the ship. There’s a dull roar as he approaches the cafeterias and Miller sees more groups congregating than he had expected. The Forward Mess Hall is a hive of activity as Miller steps through the door. Voices drone together in a low buzz as bodies swarm different tables. Crew from every department and rank are rubbing elbows, some for the first time ever. Master Chef Lowell is conducting the competing cooks with a smile on his face. The overall mood is surprisingly light given that just a few days ago the Infinity had been boarded by Covenant and Promethean invaders.

The crew needed this. A small, lighthearted respite in the midst of a messy campaign. Miller needed this too, though he didn't sign up to be a taster for the Chili Cook-Off of his own free will. Roland signing him up looked like it would turn out to be a good thing, not that Miller could voice that where the AI could hear. Roland's ego needed no help.

Miller finds himself in a swarm of crew vying for the seats at the tables across from the cooks. He's a head taller than most of the people there, sticking out like a sore thumb. There's one Spartan competing which assuages some of his nerves - it's funny seeing Spartan Hedge in an apron that barely makes it to his upper thigh.

He's scouting for a spot to sit, one that will support his augmented weight, when someone calls his name.

"Spartan Miller?"

It's the civilian from the group that huddled in the Op Center during the invasion. The engineering contractor or something, Esparza. He waves at Miller and gestures to the empty seat next to him. Miller raises a hand to wave back and finds himself gravitating towards the table. It wasn't like anyone else was going to wave him down.

"Esparza, right? How have you been?" Miller asks as he takes a seat.

Esparza grins at the fact that Miller remembered his name. Fernando incorporates Miller into his small group near-seamlessly. “Good, good. Nice to see you again, you know, without the danger.”

“I guess that depends on the chili.” Miller laughs awkwardly. He regrets the joke immediately but it makes Esparza smile and his group mates groan goodnaturedly.

Esparza is kind. He chuckles as Miller gingerly sits, testing to see if the seat will support him. The metal folding chair groans but holds. Esparza laughs outright at how Miller's eyes go wide at the sound and he throws his arms out to brace. It's a nice laugh. They make small talk and Miller learns he doesn’t flub every social interaction he’s a part of.

Esparza introduces him to the other people sitting around their table. Mostly civilian types, contractors and engineers. Egghead types, the commander would say, but they’re good people and Miller finds himself relaxing. He finds himself forgetting how much he sticks out and just enjoys the company. There's some words about him being the Spartan that protected the engineers during the invasion and Miller hates that he feels his face heat up. He knows the tips of his ears are red, but it feels nice to be remembered for something good for once.

"Did you come here with anyone?" Esparza asks.

He shakes his head. "My 'friend' signed me up for this, even had someone else drop off the ticket. I thought I might see someone here but I'm not sure. She's...good at blending in."

Esparza looks curious. “Your friend made you come? They must have thought you needed a break. I’m glad you made it.” He says while gently nudging Miller’s side.

“Thanks.” Miller says,“Don’t let him hear you say that though. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Who?”

Miller looks around and lowers his voice before answering. There’s too many people and the noise should prevent him from hearing, but who knows? He’s probably watching and lip reading from some unseen camera angle. “Roland.”

Esparza looks confused for a moment. “The Ship AI?”

“Yes.” Miller says mournfully. Esparza laughs, probably at this tone and the look on his face. He knows he’s pouting.

“I have to know, why? Is it because he’s like your boss?” Esparza leans in.

“I think he just likes picking on me, specifically.”

“So he likes you.” Esparza says grinning and sitting back. He crosses his arms and the easy curve of his posture is relaxed and knowing. He looks smug.

Miller feels himself losing control of his expression. He’s affronted. “I wouldn’t say that. I think he just likes causing problems.”

“Does he pull stunts like this often?” One of the other engineers asks. Miller can’t recall her name.

“He’s always popping up on Ops. I think he thinks he’s helping. Or he gets bored.”

“He rarely talks to us. I think we saw him during onboarding, but he rarely talks to our department directly.”

“He must like you.”

“He’s pulling your pigtails because he doesn’t know what else to do.” Esparza says with a thoughtful face before he cracks up and laughs at Miller’s bright red face.

“Thanks. A bald joke, never gotten one of those before.” He says snidely.

Esparza waves him off. “No, he likes you and he’s showing his feelings the only way he knows how. By being defensive.”

“Probably picked it up from Command.” Someone at the table whispers. Miller ignores the image of Commander Palmer that pops into his head.

“I don’t know about that.” Miller mutters. “And you guys sure know how to gang up on a guy. What happened to me being the cool Spartan?”

“We started talking to you.”

“Jeez, okay I walked into that one.” Miller sighs, crossing his arms on the table and dropping his head dramatically. Joking aside, he is having a good time. He’s used to jokes at his expense, but this feels different. Esparza’s including him and the man’s presence is comforting. Still, he’ll play his part and act put out. Maybe he can guilt them into sharing their portions of the taste testing.

Esparza takes pity on him and pats his arm. “There, there. Look, it’s time for the food.”

In the end, they do share food with Miller when his faster metabolism comes up in conversation. He doesn’t share too much about the augs, but it’s interesting to talk to civilian types with just enough clearance he can clear up some misconceptions.

“I didn’t know Spartans could be nerds.”

“We’re not all meathead jocks!” Miller laughs and steals a bite of one of Esparza’s samples. “Oh, which one is that? That’s going to be my number 1.”

He tries to swat Miller’s hand and fails. Scowling, Esparza bides his time until Miller starts talking to someone else and goes for the kill. His spoon gets mere inches away from Miller’s plate before the Spartan traps his hand with his own.

“Gotta be faster than that.” He laughs.

It’s Esparza’s turn to be flustered. He wiggles his hand in Miller’s strong grip and can’t get free. Miller yields and releases him, his palm feeling cold now that it’s no longer wrapped around Esparza’s hand and wrist. He was gentle, but Esparza still cradles his hand with wide eyes before coughing and clearing his throat.

Whatever he plans to say is interrupted by an announcement of the winners. Master Chef Lowell beams and introduces the winners. Miller can see Spartan Hedge near the winner’s circle looking pleased. Miller’s favorites didn’t win but they got honorable mentions.

Then Miller sees her. Linda materializes out of the crowd and goes over to the 4th place winners with a strange intensity. She offers them the most formal handshake Miller's ever observed and must congratulate them on their work. Bobrov beams with pride and Gomez looks a little starry-eyed as Linda 058 of Blue Team fame tells them she liked their chili the best. It honestly looks closer to a medal giving ceremony than something as low stakes as a chili cook-off.

With the event officially over and his shift starting soon, Miller excuses himself with a small smile. “Maybe we’ll run into each other soon!” He says and winces internally.

Esparza and the others smile and say their goodbyes as well before heading towards their own parts of the ship.

Miller looks around for Linda, but doesn’t see her. He hopes she had fun. He also hopes he will get more warning before she pops up again. All the excitement is keeping him on his toes. The small break over, he still feels lighter than he has in weeks as he preps to send Crimson out into the field.

“So?” Roland asks once Miller’s seated at his station. Ask is too nice a word for it, it’s more of a demand from the AI.

“It was alright. I had fun.” Miller admits. He’s going to keep a closer eye on Roland now. Miller was considering previous conversations with Roland in a new light now. Maybe the AI was more than just bored and Miller was more than just the easiest target.

“So I was correct in making you go.”

“Maybe. If I let you set the waypoints for my Fireteams, will you stop bullying me on comms?”

“Maybe.”

It’s a start.

—

The civilians trail back towards their departments in groups, gossiping about the cook-off and who they thought should have won before the conversation turns around to focus on Fernando. He should have expected it, but honestly, he was too old for this.

"The Spartan's cute, and you guys have a great first meeting story. Why not ask him out?" One of his coworkers titters. His team had been insufferable about The Spartan That Saved Them and the moment Fernando and he had had during the crisis.

"Shhh!" Fernando waves her off and playfully scowls the others grinning at them. "He might hear you!" They were only just past the doorway to the Mess Hall.

He considers it slowly, rotating the image of the Spartan in his head and talking to Miller over the course of the last hour or so. Miller is more human and shy than he expected. Awkward. It was funny seeing a Spartan off-kilter. He's less intimidating without the armor and he acts like he’s surprised when people like him.

"He is cute." Fernando acquiesces.

"And tall."

"And strong."

"Stop!"

“But he might be taken?”

“Yeah, you might have competition. The AI might pull your pigtails.”

“You guys are the worst. I feel like I’m back in school.”

He waves them off, but he finds his mind lingering on the Spartan as he finishes up his reports. Maybe they would see each other around. His contract on the Infinity was a longer one and there wasn’t any harm in seeing where this went.

—

Linda returns from her outing with a sense of satisfaction evident to the rest of her team. Her shoulders are relaxed and she’s talkative. Rather than return to rest from the strain of the social spotlight often aimed at the IIs, Linda seems satisfied.

Her team perks up when she returns, their body language shifting to welcome her back into their space. She has their attention and they read her posture and gestures like an open book. It went well.

“Have fun?” Kelly asks as her sister enters the room.

Linda nods and signs the Spartan smile across her face.

John tilts his head and nods in acknowledgement. He doesn’t move off his bunk but he sits up to show he’s listening and starts mirroring her posture.

“You know it’s not a date if both parties aren’t aware.” Fred points out from his bunk.

“Not a date. Observation.” Linda says.

“What was the speed-dating thing then?”

“Recon.”

Fred sighs. “I guess this counts as socializing. I’m glad you had fun.”

“I got some numbers.”

“Of course you did.” Fred says and is promptly hit with a pillow. Headshot.

“Are you going to call any of them?” John asks. It’s a genuine question. Linda’s been observing and opening up to new experiences since they’ve been stationed here. If carving out time for socializing and resting in the middle of a campaign was something they did, then she would try it.

“Maybe.”

“No pillow for him? Come on.” Fred complains, but there’s mirth in his voice.

“She likes me better.” John says smugly and dodges the pillow Fred throws at him.

Maybe there was the time and space for them to branch out here. They might not have roots anywhere, not anymore, but they still had this.

Kelly makes eye contact with her and she signals “go.” The pillows fly.

#My writing #Halo fanfic #Spartan Miller #Roland the AI #Linda 058 #Echo 216 #Fernando Esparza #Blue Team

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olomaya · 1 year

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Voidcritters (Afterschool Activities+)

18 August: This mod has been updated. Please refer to this post for more information before downloading.

6 May Update:

This is just a small update. Apparently the Store Tablet (which the Simtendo Twitch is cloned from) gets routinely purged from inactive Sims' inventory. So I updated it to stop it from happening. You just need to redownload the MAIN file to get this fix.

19 March Mod Fixes/Tweaks:

Mod should now run for players without Script Utility (thanks to the Anon for bringing this to my attention!)

Included a fix where Sims without cards asking others about their favorite voidcritters produced an error

Fixed an issue where the "Ask to Join Voidcritters Club" option was still available even after the target joins the club

Sims can now sit while playing Voidcritters Go! on their phone

Please also note that you need CCLoader in order for the custom comic books to show up.

This is a TS3 version of Voidcritters which came in one of the TS4 packs and the second in my Afterschool Activities+ series of mods. I haven’t actually played with Voidcritters in TS4 but I really liked the concept and the worldbuilding and effort they put into it. Technically anyone can play but I made it for children and teens in mind. Sims can collect, trade, train and battle Voidcritters cards and play with their friends at the Voidcritters club. I didn’t want to go through the trouble of converting that bulky battle station and was planning to put it on the computer but then saw ATS3 had created a Nintendo Switch system based off the Store tablet and that was perfect.

For more information about the Voidcritters, you can read the handy guide here.

The card and packs are by me converted from TS4. The Switch is from Around the Sims 3 and is based on the Store tablet so you will need the tablet for the animations. Thanks as always to Sandy at https://aroundthesims.tumblr.com/ for her amazing cc and her generous use policy! Unfortunately I couldn’t figure out how to edit the video effect for gaming so it’s off completely and I just added some gaming sound to it. If anyone knows, please give me some tips!

I'm pretty happy with how this turned out except for the Read Stats interaction on the card. The card sticks through the Sim's hand. I tried for hours to fix it but alas, animation is not my forte. I was going to just remove it but it's the only place where I included the cute little descriptions for each Voidcritter so I'm leaving it in. Aside from the descriptions, all the information on each of your cards can be found either in the skill journal or by hovering over each card.

You need NRaas Career for the custom afterschool club, the Store tablet for the Twitch and Generations and University for other gameplay or animations.

Let me know if you have any issues! More details after the cut.

Download (8 files) here

How to Play

Voidcritter cards can be purchased in Entertainment/Hobbies&Skills or Kids Room/Toys. They come in packs: Starter Packs (§75) which have Common cards, Booster Packs (§90) which have Uncommon cards, and Battle Packs (§105) which have Rare cards. The cards you get are random each time you open a pack.

Common cards are §25 each, Uncommon are §45 each and Rare cards are §105. The values of the cards will depreciate over time but also can increase depending on their rarity and power level so you can sell them to make a some profit after training them up.

You train up your Voidcritters on the “Simtendo Twitch” handheld (Electronics/Misc; §500) and then battle them against other Sims that also have Voidcritters which will boost the power level of your Voidcritters and your Voidcritter skill.

Using the Twitch, you can battle with anyone who has a VC card online or anyone who has at least one card and a Twitch in person. Battles are decided based on the players’ VC skill, the power levels of the Voidcritters that are battling and if they have an elemental advantage (i.e. Water Voidcritters have an advantage over Fire ones).

You can also play a mobile version ("Voidcritters Go!") on your smartphone. However, this will only increase your VC skill. You can't battle with cards on it.

Voidcritter Skill

The Voidcritter Skill is for children and teens. There are 10 levels for this skill. Once you max out the skill, you will get a Limited Edition card.

There are two skill challenges: Battle Master and Top Trainer. A Battle Master is a Sim who has won 20 battles. They will earn extra battle points when in a battle. A Top Trainer is a Sim who has at least 5 Voidcritters with 100 power level each. (I know the photo above says different because I took it before I made the change after realizing how difficult that challenge would be.) After achieving this challenge, you will be able to train your Voidcritters much faster.

Uncommon, Rare and Limited Edition cards are skill-gated meaning that you have to reach certain skill levels (4, 8 and 10, respectively) in order to train or battle with them.

Gameplay Interactions

Aside from buying cards, you can also trade cards with other VC players to fill out your collection or get rid of duplicate cards. You can also give cards away. If other Sims have cards, there are specific interactions that will appear like asking about their favorite Voidcritter. Children and teens can also beg their parents or grandparents for a Simtendo Twitch. If you have a bad relationship with someone and they have cards, you can beat them up and steal a card from them.

Voidcritters Club

Voidcritter enthusiasts can join the Voidcritters Club afterschool activity where they will gain VC and video gaming skill and can battle with other club members. There’s also a chance they may find a card while at the club. Sims can invite their friends to join the club as well.

Other Nerd Actions

Sims can read one of the 8 Voidcritter Comics you can purchase at the bookstore. There’s a 25% chance that you find a card in the comic book.

Finally, what is a proper nerd without some fanfic? I added the option for Sims with Level 5+ Voidcritter Skill and Level 1+ writing skill to write Voidcritter fanfiction. You can also read fanfic if someone else has written it and if you are the writer, you can read reviews of your fic. Playing Voidcritters and everything VC related also builds the Nerd Influence skill.

#sims3cc #sims 3 mods #s3cc download #s3cc #sims 3 cc #download #voidcritters

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dazzlinglybitter · 11 months

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It's Disability Pride Month!! Let's talk about POTS!

Hello beautiful people. Since it's Disability Pride Month, I wanted to talk about my disability. I have a condition called POTS. It stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Sydrome, which is a very long name, and you can see why we just say POTS. Essentially, it means that when I change position or stand up, my heart rate gets too high. It is normal for your heart rate to go up when you change positions. But what makes POTS different is it changes too suddenly and much higher than average. The National Institutes of Health defines that a person with POTS has "an increase in heart rate of 30 beats/min or more when moving from a recumbent to a standing position that lasts more than 30 seconds". Which on its own doesn't sound all that bad. I would be a much happier human if that's all it was. However, POTS comes with its own host of symptoms. That swing in heart rate can cause dizziness, lightheadedness, blurred vision, and sometimes fainting. Other symptoms of POTS include:

Exercise intolerance

Headaches

Nausea

Fatigue

Anxiety

Dry mouth

Excess thirst

Leg pain

Blood pooling

Brain Fog

Swollen Extremities

Sleeping problems

Bladder problems

Digestion issues

Tremors

Shortness of breath or chest tightening

Memory issues

Poor temperature regulation

Chronic dehydration

Neuropathic pains

Increased sweating to the extremities

Loss of appetite

Light sensitivity

Dry eyes

Heart palpitations

Chest pain

Cold extremities due to poor blood flow

Heat intolerance

Hypovolemia (low blood volume)

And probably more that I've missed! Doesn't sound all that fun, and trust me, it isn't! POTS is a condition under the larger umbrella of Dysautonomia. There are several different types of dysautonomic conditions, POTS is only one of them. Here are some fun facts about POTS:

POTS effects around 0.2% of the world's population

It is most common in females, 75 to 80% of all patients are female

Though it can be diagnosed at any age, it is most commonly diagnosed between the ages of 15 and 25 (I was 19 when I got diagnosed!)

There is no cure for POTS and it's a chronic illness

Some teenagers will outgrow the condition in their 20s

The average time to diagnosis is 5 years and 11 months (took me almost a year, luckily)

According to Dysautonomia International, 25% of POTS patients are so disabled they cannot work or attend school

There is no singular cause for POTS, and many patients will likely not know what caused their condition

Research on POTS is incredibly sparse, making advocacy, treatment, and diagnosis even harder

The usual recommended treatment is increased fluid intake, increasing salt intake, wearing compression stockings, raising the head of the bed to conserve blood volume, reclined exercises like rowing, recumbent bicycle, or swimming, and a healthy diet

While there is no FDA approved medication for POTS, some medications such as beta blockers can be used to aid the condition

Though the heart is directly involved, POTS is not technically a heart condition. It is technically a nervous system disorder stemming from the autonomic nervous system

There's lots to be said about POTS! I don't think I could fit it all in one post if I tried. But if you made it this far into the post, thank you for taking the time to learn about it! Awareness is key, and the more people that know about the condition, the better we are. Happy Disability Pride Month!!

#potsawareness #dysautonomia #disability pride month #chronic illness

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xxavengingangelxx · 7 months

Text

Somewhere Only We Know 1/?

This is part of a series: Long Way From Home. Graves gets ahold of 141's translator and demands she give up information she knows about 141.

Graves still has Val in this continuation. This continuation includes the events of MW3 so 141 will find out Graves is alive and they will learn where Val has been this whole time ;) MW3 SPOILERS Thanks to @unicorngirly1 for talking ideas with me!

Taglist!

@bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl. If you'd like to be added and/or if I left anyone off, please let me know!

Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of torture, dubious consent, brainwashing, mentions of suicide. More will be added as the story develops.

“Un-fucking-believable,”

You were across the dark room, not visible to the camera, but Soap’s voice drew your attention and your head snapped in that general direction.

You’d been given orders by Shepherd and Graves: you can be in the room but you were not to move, not to make a sound and certainly not to approach the camera. 141 still thought you were dead, remember?

Consequences for approaching that camera? A return to a room similar to that cold, terrifying room where you’d spent your first week with Shadow Company being tortured for information that you eventually gave up. That was all you needed to hear. You in no way, under no circumstances, wanted to go back there so you’d do what you were told. Besides, you’d been more tired than usual, not feeling like yourself, like you were on the verge of getting sick, so it’s not like you even had the energy to put up with that. You wouldn’t be able to mentally handle it, either.

You’d make a third attempt on your life if you were returned to that room. Of that you were sure.

“Soap!” You heard Graves respond. “Ya miss me?” Graves laughed coldly. “Well technically you did, didn’t you?”

“Laswell, if you’re tracking this,” Ghost’s voice interrupted, “let’s call in an airstrike.”

“Ghost that is not nice,” Graves chided, almost as if he was speaking to a toddler. It made you wonder how he would be around kids.

“And Val?” Soap demanded.

“Now her ya did kill, Johnny,” Graves sneered. “Shame. I liked having her around.”

“Go fohck yerself. What’re you up to?” Soap’s voice snapped at Graves.

“I’m up to doing my fuckin’ job, kid. Maybe you should try it sometime,” Graves shot back.

“My fucking job is to kill the enemy. Guess what you are,” Soap spat back.

“Let’s keep this professional, boys,” Shepherd interjected. “Cap’n let me pain you the bigger picture. You need Makarov in a pine box. I’ve got the nails.”

The rest of the conversation was faded out because that name, Makarov…Makarov scared the shit out of you. Graves had told you that Vladimir Makarov liked petite, little, innocent-looking things and that like they’d done before with other male targets they might use you to help draw him in or distract him. You were Shadow Company’s femme fatale after all. You’d drawn in men before.

But the idea terrified you. Makarov was a different kind of monster. A psychopath. What was stopping Makarov from taking you like Graves took you? And Makarov you knew would not be nearly as ‘nice’ as Graves had been. Makarov would haul you to Russia and torture you himself. And he would get off on it. Unlike Graves Makarov wouldn’t hesitate to use rape as a weapon.

“Val,” Graves’s voice drew you back to the present.

“Graves,” you responded, shaking your head of the chilling thoughts that had occupied your mind only seconds before.

“We gotta meet 141,”

You sighed. Got teary eyed. What if they took you from him? So you said something. “They’re gonna take me from you,” you sniffled.

“We’re gonna have a fucking problem if they do,” Graves snapped. “We’re not moving forward until I get you back if that happens. They think you’re dead, Val. Remember that.”

You sighed again. “They better. I’ll raise hell ‘till they give me back.”

“I know it sucks,” Graves conceded. “But this is moving quick. We need Makarov. The quicker it’s done, they quicker we never see any of ‘em again.”

Makarov. That name. It gave you chills. You had the worst feeling about him.

Graves then gave a series of commands: wear both vests (we don’t know if they’ll try to kill you), wear your mask, wear your combat goggles, wear a helmet, wear a uniform. Do anything you can to hide your identity. Do not come within an arm’s length of them. You’re going to have a sidearm, your rifle, and a knife. And it all else fails? Run.

You followed orders and got dressed exactly how you were told to in the morning. You were exhausted. You hadn’t been sleeping well and your body ached.

It had been decided to meet in an abandoned warehouse. No electricity so it was easy to sweep for bugs. That meant no heat. It was raining and the dropping temperatures promised snow. It was miserable but at least all the layers you were wearing kept you warm.

You could feel 141’s eyes penetrating you.

You tried to tell yourself it was because out of a group of men you were by far the smallest one. The only female, obviously.

Price, Laswell, Shepherd, and Graves were in a room sealed off from the rest of you. Shadows were in that same room protecting Graves and Shepherd. Graves had wanted you in the same room as him but that risked Price recognizing you since the room was so small. The meeting would be quick, Graves promised. You only hoped it wouldn’t be drawn out.

That left you in a large room with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. You stayed as far away from them as possible. You had your rifle hanging from your shoulder. You had your sidearm ready to go. The only problem was there was no damn way you could shoot any of them. You only prayed they’d stay across the room.

You didn’t like this. In fact you hated it. Why couldn’t another Shadow have stayed with you? Actually no. That Shadow might shoot at 141 and the last thing you wanted was to have them hurt.

Soap met your gaze. You had a soft spot for Soap. You two had been close. A little more than close but that was a story for another day.

“What’s your name, lass?” Soap called out. “Didn’ know he had female Shadows.”

You didn’t answer. You were scared your voice would give you away. You just pointed at your tag: P-80.

“I can’t read that,” Soap replied. “You can’t talk or sometin?”

You shook your head no. Duh. Of course you could talk. You just chose not to. Your voice was a lot softer than any of these men’s. It stood out. And they’d recognize it for sure.

“Your mannerisms remind me o’ someone I was close to,” Soap added. “Real pretty lass. Had a lotta fun wit her. But smart as ‘ell. Dangerous, too.”

“That you, Val?” Ghost asked.

“L.t.,” Soap whined. “I was gettin’ there.”

“I think it is,” Gaz added.

You shook you head no again. Tears pricked your eyes. This was getting to be too much. You didn’t care that you’d been told to stay out of that briefing room. You wanted to be in the same room as Graves.

“I know that’s you, Val,” That person, Ghost, calling your name was like someone lighting a fire under your ass. Graves had conditioned you to RUN from them if he wasn’t close by. You shook your head before taking off running, following Grave’s orders.

You were so frazzled that a flight of stairs presented too much of a challenge for you and you tripped, hitting the landing hard and slamming into the wall sideways, your head hitting the wall with force. You had a helmet on thank God but the hit still rattled you. Voices were scrambled and everything got blurry for a few seconds. You were about to get up and keep running when someone grabbed you by your vest and dragged you back up the flight of stairs you’d just tripped over. You fought not to scream to be let go.

Ghost had grabbed you. You knew because he was the roughest one out of the group. Only because he was incredibly protective of his men. After dragging you back up the flight of stairs he released you onto the concrete landing.

You tried to get back up. You were shoved down.

“On your knees,” Ghost demanded. Rifle raised.

“Ghost,” Soap started. “Don’t—”

“I’ve got this, Johnny,” Ghost retorted.

You sighed and dropped to your knees with hands held out.

“Helmet,” Ghost demanded.

You unclasped your helmet and took it off.

“The goggles and the mask,” came the next command.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself.

You complied and took both off, dropping them to the ground next to you.

“Hoooly shit,”

You recognized it as Soap’s voice.

You shook the bangs from your eyes and glanced up.

Gaz was not far behind and approached. And you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t. You decided long ago you would never go back to them. They’d either kill you or send you to a military prison for the rest of your life.

Worst of all, Graves had said, you’d never see him again. You knew for a damn fact you couldn’t handle being separated from Graves.

So you pulled your sidearm and put it against your head.

The effect was instant.

141 backed off. Ghost dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang off his shoulder.

Immediately.

“Back off,” you stood up slowly.

They were speechless.

“What happened to you?” Gaz asked, eyeing you with stunned, wide eyes.

“Nothing,” You responded.

“Val, we’re not leaving,” Soap stated simply, his hands in front of him to show he was not reaching for a weapon. “Put the gun down, Jesus Christ.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered the gun from your head. Little did they know you’d rather die than be separated from Graves. In your panic you didn’t notice Soap was no longer in front of you. You raised the gun in their direction.

Yet not one of them reached for their weapon. You wondered if it was because despite how much you had changed they could see it in your eyes that you couldn’t shoot any of them.

“Let me go,” you warned, taking small steps backwards. “I’ll call him and they’ll come running.” Your mind flashed to that first night in Las Almas when Graves had ordered you to call out to 141. You being your stupid self had refused. Now you were actually threatening to scream to get Graves’s attention.

Then.

Your worst nightmare.

Someone grabbed you from behind. He placed a heavy, calloused hand over your mouth preventing you from screaming, from calling out to Graves. His other hand gripped your right wrist on such a way that you dropped your weapon. Your gun dropped to the ground. Soap expertly kicked it away from you. You were then flat on the floor on your stomach, the sudden movement aggravating the ribs that had been broken several times over now. Your rifle was taken. Your knife was taken. You were about to say, “Fuck you, let me go.” But duct tape replaced the hand that had been on your mouth.

They were treating you exactly like Graves warned you they would. You screamed into the tape because what else could you do? You were flipped onto your back and you immediately starting swinging fists, kicking, trying to scratch, anything to get them away.

Soap clearly was overwhelmed because he just stared in horror and how hard you were fighting. For what? To go back to Graves? To go back to the man who had inflicted that cut on your face that had scarred?

“Thas’ enough ‘o that,” Ghost said lowly. You’d forgotten how big he was because when he stood over you, he terrified you. He looked like the grim reaper. Zipties went around your wrists after your arms were pulled in front of you. But not before you put up a hell of a fight. You tried to scratch but only got Ghost’s Kevlar and uniform. Zipties brought back bad memories.

“You swing at anyone again,” Graves knelt in front of you while a Shadow ziptied your hands in front of you. You were lying on the floor, beat halfway to unconsciousness by said Shadow. “I’m leaving you in those with a broken arm,”

“Fuck you, sadist,” you mumbled as you lost consciousness.

Price, Graves, Shepherd, and Laswell were still in that small room. Talking about what you had no idea. You tried to use your hands ziptied in front of you to break the window of the SUV they were dragging you to.

You struggled, tried to be dead weight. Your worst fear was coming true. You were being taken from Graves. And you couldn’t scream because they’d taped your mouth shut.

But then you got an idea. You got into that SUV willingly because you had a plan. They’d removed the tape from your mouth provided you promised them you wouldn’t scream. The skin on your face was still red, though. Just wait until Graves finds out what they did to you.

I feel like this isn't as good as Long Way From Home. :( Idk why! But please let me know what you think! If you have ideas, message me! I'm thinking of opening an ask box :D I wanted to post a longer chapter but character limits got me!

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #cod mw3 #mw3 141 #john soap mactavish #gaz mw2 #cod ghost #price call of duty #kate laswell #general shepherd #longwayfromhome

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carriesthewind · 1 year

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i know very little about law, but im gonna be honest, i feel a bit bad for the loduca guy. is it a good look to sign a coworkers work without looking? absolutely not, they are paid to be anal about this stuff. but it feels like such a human thing to do, if you worked with someone for 25+ years, and never had a significant reason to doubt their work, to just kind of visually skim over the thing, and then sign and stample, bc you trust the guy.

and yeah maybe you saw he was having some issues with this case, the opposite side/judge asking for some documents they cant find and therefore think are fabricated, but again, you trust your coworker, trust that they did the job and this is a mistake not on his part, and you probably have your own workload to worry about, your own cases, so you think little of it. idk, while a bit lazy (bad look) it feels like something that would happen at an office, you know?

that being said ive got a feeling those people are not going to be practicing law quite soon. more so i dont recall if the law firm was one of theirs, but i assume even if it's not, it will have a very hard time recovering from this

A bit of a long and rambling answer here on just my own thoughts on the matter, so I'm putting it below the cut!

I do feel some sympathy for him...for the first opposition brief. My sympathy vanishes once he submitted the fake "opinions" to the court.

Because I absolutely get trusting your colleague, especially if you have worked with him for so long. And as lawyers, it is a really serious thing to sign a submission to the court that you haven't at least read - but it is also very a very human thing to do. People, including lawyers, cut corners and make errors all the time.

But part of his problem isn't just that he was skimming and signing something - when you sign a submission as an attorney, you are making a very real (and legally binding - that's the point of Rule 11) promise to the court. LoDuca is still listed as Mata's counsel of record (and his only counsel of record in this case). He told the court that he was representing this dude, and he never really was.

I saw someone - I think on twitter? - say he was covering up for Schwartz practicing law without a license. Which is technically true! But it's also - come on, there is (usually) a practical, if not ethical, difference between letting some random pretend to be lawyer by signing and submitting their documents without supervision, and signing and submitting documents for a colleague in a jurisdiction they aren't admitted to without going through the steps of having him formally act as local counsel, when you know the end result would be the same if you walked through the formal steps. I want to be clear - the second thing is not okay at all, and is very much against the rules. But, I am also 100% confident he's not the only person doing it, and I can the the way that someone would feel like it was a justifiable bending, not breaking of the rules.

But even then, the problem is that as attorneys, we are (supposed to be) held to a high ethical standard. I said this in an earlier post, but when an attorney makes representations to the court, the court takes those very seriously, because we are assumed to be following those ethical standards. If I make a legal or factual representation in a courtroom, there can be immediate and real consequences for people's lives.

It's a self-licensing and a self-policing profession, and we what we do has very serious consequences both on a societal and individual level. Even in a simple case like this originally was, a personal injury negligence case brought by an individual - the complaint says the plaintiff suffered serious, disabling injuries and has been prevented from working, and he is seeking compensation for his medical care and his inability to work. If that's true, this case is about (should have been about) who paid for that needed medical care, the necessities of life.

And I think this case is an example of why those rules can matter - sure, most of the time, someone doing what LoDuca was won't get caught, and maybe it won't matter practically. But part of the reasons we have those rules is to try to prevent - well maybe not this bullshit precisely - bullshit like this from happening. "Other people break the rules too and don't get caught" isn't an excuse.

But again, it still is a very human kind of error, so I still have sympathy. The real problem, for me, is the submission of the fake opinions.

Because once he got the order from the court ordering him to provide copies of the opinions or the case would be dismissed, he must have known something was wrong. That is not a normal order to receive. That order means the court (which has access to all the legal research tools he doesn't) thinks something is very seriously wrong. If he did not read that order and immediately go "Oh fuck" and a) read the defendant's reply and b) realize the cases seem to have been fake, he is not competent to practice law. And I mean that in a very serious way - he has no business practicing in the field with such serious consequences for people's lives if he didn't immediately recognize the problem.

So once he got that order, he has no excuse. At that point, he either consciously perpetrated a lie upon the court; or he is too incompetent to practice.

#ask #2 Stupid 2 Sanction

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arcadekitten · 6 days

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Not the same anon, but uh... Could you give us 5 reasons on why YOU like Reginald? I got curious

He's very sentimental to me! He was one of the first characters I created for this world (second only to Mary) and I have owned him for a very long time! I made him at 15 years old (fun fact he was actually made in February of 2015) and I am 25 now and by next year I will have owned him for 10 years!! He has been with me through a lot and helped me out of some rough patches in my life so he means a lot to me. ---

I was very self-indulgent when making him!! I based him off all my favorite tropes and features of male characters that are still my favorites today! I'm often a fan of the boy characters with long hair or glasses or who are bit more studious/academic and he gets to be all that and more! And I think being indulgent with your art is the best way to be! ---

I love drawing him! It's probably because he's one of my favorites already but I always have fun when drawing him! I like playing around and doing fun things with his hair or playing with his facial proportions or putting him in various styles when I branch out a bit from his usual tie+collar! It makes me happy to draw him! ---

I like writing him! Sometimes it's a bit of a challenge but that makes it fun! I love exploring the ways in which he interacts with other characters as well as his speech patterns, and how he often likes to speak more "proper" and "polite" than others around him and I find it endearing, and fun to try and work into his conversations. ---

I like that he's a pufferfish! (Or maybe even porcupinefish if we're specific? I do draw him based more off those even though 'puffer' is like a broad term technically...I'm getting into semantics.) The idea that he has poison running through him always gives me a lot of fun concepts to explore and work with whether it be metaphorically or literally. Sometimes I think I should have created my own original species for everything but animals are pre-built with meaning and metaphors to them and are also easier to collect merch of and be reminded of! So I don't want to beat myself up over it when now I am happily reminded of him whenever I see a fish like him! ♡

#reginald #reginald tetra #reggie #ask #reply

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smileyerim · 2 years

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in hell there’s heaven

He’s full of too many emotions he doesn’t know how to name, so he screams. To the owls hooting in the trees, to the moon, to God if He was listening. For the first time ever in his 25 years of living, Jaehyun has to come to terms with his emotions.

inspired by solo by frank ocean

pairing: jeong jaehyun x reader

genre: angst

length: 1k

warnings: adults smoking weed, mentions of cheating

If Jaehyun could do anything in the world right now, he would go back to 3 days ago, slap himself in the face, and call you. He wants that more than he’s ever wanted anything in your relationship, but he didn’t do that.

3 days ago Jaehyun cheated on you. 3 hours ago the guilt hit him so hard he wanted to cry, an emotion he wasn’t particularly comfortable with expressing in front of you, when you told him you were so happy he was yours. Because, yes, that’s technically true, but 2 days and 21 hours ago Jaehyun was kissing the neck of another woman, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and entering into her with far too much ease.

So 3 minutes ago he decided to tell you about his infidelity. Jaehyun never believed the “eyes are the window to the soul” bullshit until that exact moment when he saw in your eyes your heart breaking.

“I-I need a minute.” You say, walking away. You did that a lot. Insecurity built up from relationships past left you uneasy with the idea of expressing anger towards a partner. Even when you and Jaehyun fought you always conceded first, letting him win even if you were still hurt. Jaehyun knew this, and he always tried his hardest not to take advantage of it and you, always letting you know you had the space to be upset.

He didn’t say that this time, though. He knew he didn’t need to, that damn look in your eyes communicated it enough.

3 seconds of sitting alone on the couch, eyes glued to his shut bedroom door that you just locked yourself into to think, Jaehyun decides he can’t sit with these feelings.

So he doesn’t, in a manner that is just so him, he decides on taking the fresh pre-roll he bought from the dispensary earlier to share with you out to the balcony alone.

The old and derelict lawn chair squeaked concerningly as he sat down, but he doesn’t care. He takes the white lighter he bought himself as a bad luck charm out of his pocket and the joint up to his lips, flicking the lighter and burning his eyes at the flame. He takes a few puffs in, not inhaling, just to start the sweet burn. He blows softly on the cherry end to prevent it from canoeing before taking his first real drag, eyebrows scowling at the peppery taste. He hates this strain, but it was the only one that seemed to calm your anxiety, like truly mellow you out. So he sacrificed.

Jaehyun was famous at ignoring his emotions, bottling them up until they burst. No matter what he was truly feeling, he always expressed anger when he exploded. He lost a lot of relationships because of that, but you stayed, you always did. It takes a lot out of him to admit to himself that earlier today when he felt so upset he wanted to cry, he scared himself. Jaehyun doesn’t care about many things enough to want to cry over them, but suddenly at the prospect of hurting you his tear ducts sprung to life again. He thought they had shriveled up and died.

That’s one of the many things he guesses he gained from you, emotional freedom, assurance that he isn’t a waste of space and time, unconditional support in his dreams, and the gift of what he suspects is the love of his life.

He guesses that’s all gone now.

He’s torn away from his thoughts when the screen door to the balcony opens and you step out to join him. There’s a second chair out here but you don’t sit, standing and staring at your bare feet. He wants to tell you to go back inside and put on shoes before the ants bite you, but it feels like the wrong time so he doesn’t.

He chooses to just stare at you, your hair partially blocking your face as you look down still. He’s pretty stoned at this point, halfway through the joint.

He doesn’t know what to do, and time feels so very slow so he offers you the joint by moving his hand below your line of sight. He doesn’t imagine there’s a way you’ll say no to it, you know the scent. You must know it’s your favorite. You must know he bought it for you.

Unbeknownst to him, though, nothing can calm the anxiety you have right now.

“Jaehyun, I can’t do this.” You finally look at him, and the look in your eyes, those damn eyes and that damn look break his heart again. He doesn’t show it though, just pursing his lips and letting a frown settle.

“I-I can’t be with you anymore.”

He watches the tear roll down your cheek. He wants to scoff, but his heart is too broken. An unmistakable feeling of emptiness and regret fills him, a stinging pain that he tries to swallow down stays burning behind his sternum.

He’s broken. Fully, entirely, all encompassingly broken.

“Are you going to say anything?” You say.

And no, he wasn’t particularly planning on it. What is there to say? He fucked up, he knew it right after it happened and even a small part of him during it too, but there’s no going back.

He knows that not one word he could say that would convince you that he loves you more than he loves the freedom to do whatever he wants.

Now, though, he’s questioning which is a bigger priority to him.

You shake your head and scoff at him before turning, opening the screen door and leaving for the last time.

He’s full of too many emotions he doesn’t know how to name, so he screams. To the owls hooting in the trees, to the moon, to God if He was listening.

For the first time ever in his 25 years of living, Jaehyun had to come to terms with his emotions.

He fucking hated it, and he still loves you. That was the worst part.

part 2 here <3

#autumn writes jaehyun #nct #kpop #ficscafe #jaehyun #jaehyun angst #angst #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #cheating au #sad!!!#so sad!!!#lol

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20dollarlolita · 8 months

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Can you believe it? 20dollarlolita Pattern School Step 2!

Only took me a year and a half. For people who don't remember a year and a half ago, we've started a project about learning to sew from patterns. The eventual goal is to help people become proficient enough at reading patterns to be able to tell what's going on in a pattern with instructions in another language, taking a pattern that doesn't fit and resizing it so that it does, and taking a pattern that isn't technically lolita and make it work in lolita fashion.

Step 1 was to make a non-fitted item from a commercial pattern. There were two goals of step 1: first to ensure that everyone was familiar with notches, grainlines, and other pattern markings; second was to give people experience with selecting fabric and trims to help give a non-lolita pattern a more lolita feeling.

For step 2, we're modifying a commercial pajama pants pattern into bloomers. In this step, we're going to become familiar with how to prepare a commercial pattern for modification, to compare pattern size to body size and to use your tape measure to judge added fullness, and how to do some basic flat pattern manipulation to add in style ease. Bloomers are a great first manipulation/fitted project due to the loose fit and the fact that, in most lolita applications, the vast majority of it is under your skirt and therefore invisible.

For this specific sample, I'm going to use Gertie's Harlow Pajama Pants pattern for this. I'm doing this because I bought a commercial pattern from Green Store and then promptly lost it, and these pajama pants are a free download. If you are printing the tiled version on your home computer printer, you only need pages 41-52 and 58-71, which will save you about 40 pages of printing.

I highly recommed doing some research and having a good idea of how long the bloomers you want to make should be, as well as how they are decorated. This is my research board.

You can use any pajama pants pattern that has a casing (elastic or drawstring) at the top, and no zipper. In this case, pants with a looser fit are going to be easier to turn into bloomers. If you like wearing your pants at a certain point on your body, I'd check for pajama pants that are at that waistline. The pants that I'm using are designed to sit at your natural waist, which might be too high for some people.

Your first step is to assemble and fortify your pattern. If you're printing this on copy paper, it's going to be strong enough, provided you use enough tape when tiling your pattern. If you're using a tissue paper pattern, like the kind you'd buy at the craft store, it helps to fuse some inexpensive interfacing onto the back of the pattern. We're going to work with these patterns a lot, so it's important to make them a little bit stronger.

Now, you are going to need to go into your pattern instructions and find two important things. The first is your overall seam allowance. In most commercial patterns, this is 5/8 of an inch. Some other patterns might have different seam allowance.

The second is how big your elastic casing at the top will be. In this case, my seam allowance is 5/8" of an inch. Because my hem casing is .25"+1.25" (the amount you turn up plus them amount you turn up the second time), I know that my elastic casing will take up 1.5".

You're now going to mark on your pattern what the stitching line is. Your pattern has seam allowance included. This is very useful for when you cut out the pattern. However, if we take our pattern measurements with seam allowance, we won't have accurate numbers. So we have to clarify where the seam allowance is.

The first thing that I do (not pictured) is to write how much I'm removing along each line. In this case, I write 5/8" along the side and crotch seams, and "1+1/2" at the top where the casing is. Since we're going to drastically shorten these pants, it doesn't matter what the hem allowance is.

Then, I take my ruler, and I mark my stitching line. I do it in pencil, check that I'm correct, and then go back and re-draw it with a red marker. This helps me make sure that I'm following the correct lines.

Make sure you transfer your notches onto your new stitching line. You can see in the picture above how I'm using the ruler to measure where the notch is going to go.

The next step, walking the pattern, is a little tricky to explain. Here's a post that goes into it in great detail.

Basically, you're going to overlap the seam lines, to make sure they line up. The only problem with doing this is that both seam lines are curved. So, instead of lining it all up at once, you're going to go about an inch at a time, letting the pattern rotate so that it stays flat on the table. At any given point, you're only going to have an inch or so of the line overlapping, but that's all you need. If you run into notches that don't line up, cross one out and re-draw it so that it matches the other notch.

If this seems really complicated, you don't really need to do that on this project. It just is a good practice to have.

So you now should have a pattern with all the commercial markings, but where you've drawn the stitching line.

So now, you're going to put your two pieces together along the outseam. Since this is a pretty straight part of a pajama pant, it shouldn't be too difficult to get them to line up. Remember to overlap them on your stitching line, and not on the edge of the pattern.

We're putting them together so that you can measure them both at the same time. it saves us some math.

In bloomers, there are three major measurements to take into consideration. You need to know how big you want the leg to be, how big you want the booty to be, and how long you want the leg of the bloomer to be. In addition, you need to make sure that the waist of your pants will be big enough to fit your waist. In most pajama pants patterns, this isn't a problem, but checking it is good practice.

So, in this picture, you can see that I've measured the cuff of the pants. These two pieces together make up one pant leg, so I just need to measure the two pieces to know how big the pant leg will be.

I then take my tape measure and hold it around my leg at the same size that the pattern is at that point. I just use my eyes and judge if I think that'll be enough room to make my bloomers nice and poofy.

If your pattern doesn't tell you your hip line (mine didn't), it's usually at the point where the two notches on the crotch curve are. One of the reasons why we're doing this on a commercial pattern is that someone did the work for us and put those notches where they should be.

Now, remember, these two pieces are only half of the pant pattern. When we measure the hips of the pattern, we have to multiply this measurement by 2. Half the hip measurement x 2 is the full hip measurement.

Once again, hold this out next to your body and make sure that you like how much fullness you need. Remember that, in addition to having extra fullness because bloomers are poofy, you need room to be able to move and sit down. This measure between the size of my body and the size of the pattern looked pretty good to me. I could definitely have gone a little bit bigger.

The pant leg measurement is okay to be a little bit too long. You can always make it shorter. However, feel free to chop about 18" off the bottom of a full length pant leg. This just makes things a little easier.

Now, we're going to move the two pattern pieces until they're the size we like. If both the hip measurement and the leg measurement are too small, we're going to move both pattern pieces apart. To turn pajama pants into bloomers, this is likely to be the most common adjustment.

If the hip measurement is pretty okay, but the cuff measurement is too small, you're just going to move the bottom part of the pattern apart.

You'll notice that this is still enlarging the hip measurement a little bit. This is fine for bloomers since the style is for a lot of fullness in that area.

And if your cuff is the correct size, but your hip measure is too big, you can keep the cuff size the same and move the hip line apart until it's the size you want.

This technique of lining up the pattern pieces, and then moving them until they're the size you want, is the basics of flat patterning. As long as you follow the philosophy of keeping the measurements you like roughly the same, and moving the areas that you don't like until they measure what you need, you can easily resize a pattern without having to re-draw everything.

If you had to spread your pieces apart, tape some paper underneath the gap. This piece of paper should bridge the gap between the two pieces, turning them into one piece. Really quickly double-check that these pieces measure how you want. Then, mark a line in the middle of the paper bridge. Draw your notches onto the cut line. Cut the two pieces apart on that line. You've now made both pieces bigger. Tape another little piece of paper onto the cut edge of each piece, mark out your seam allowance, and cut that off.

Bonus points: swap the position of the pattern pieces, so that the crotch curve is one continuous line. Measure the length of that. Then, hold your tape measure along where the crotch curve of your pants will fit, and make sure that you have clearance there. I'm not going to photograph that, andi t's not super necessary with most pajama patterns.

Go ahead and cut your pieces out.Even though I'd shortened the pattern, mine were still too long to fit on a 2-yard cut of fabric. Since I knew that my pants were a little long, I just let the end hang off the edge of the fabric.

Here's the really magical part about this. Even though you've resized your pattern, you still have all your seam allowance, notches, grainlines, and your pattern instructions. Since you kept all your pattern markings consistent, you can now follow the instructions that came with your pattern. Go up until it tells you to hem the pants, and then try them on.

In my case, my pants were way too long to be bloomers. I knew that I wanted to do a casing with a heading, which does use s pretty big hem allowance, but even so, I'd need to shorten them.

Check out your bloomer research board to see how long you want them to be. I wanted some long ones that did the old-school bloomer peek, so I made them on the longer side. I also didn't want them to ride up into my butt when sitting in a wheelchair.

So, time to fold up the bottoms, add my elastic, and call the basic construction finished.

I looked up on my research board to try to find a good way to decorate these. One of the nice things about bloomers is that you can wear them with a wide variety of coords. This makes them one of those items where you can add some extra lace, and then use that lace in multiple coords. I feel like, since these bloomers are a good way of adding detail in multiple coords, it's a good excuse to add a little bit extra lace. You can see how much of a difference it makes in this picture. It really turns them from baggy shorts into real bloomers. I really recommend sometimes investing in a couple of big purchases of lace. If you have lots of lace on hand, you're more likely to include it in your projects, which can really help push a meh project into proper lolita fashion territory. I have a rule that I don't spend more than $1.50 a yard on lace unless it's really fantastic, and I manage to find things at that point on Aliexpress and sites like Cheeptrims.

Now go on and let them peek out of your favorite skirt. And remember, definitely don't press that skirt before putting this picture in your tutorial.

#20dollarlolita #dollar chan's pattern school #step 2 #lolita fashion #patternmaking #handmade lolita #lolita bloomers #sewing tutorial #hey guys look i actually made somethign #long post

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