#it has tartan pattern

[timetothirst]

Soap would buy you clothes and accessories that have his clan tartan on them btw. if you even care

for those who don’t know, here are some examples of tartans:

and every clan (or family) in Scotland has a specific one! People wear them to represent what clan they belong to! If you see a Scottish person wearing a kilt (especially at a get-together or formal event) then they’re most likely doing so to represent their clan by wearing a specific tartan.

This is what the tartan for clan MacTavish looks like:

To put it simply, wearing this tartan means that you’re a MacTavish. It’s not as big of a thing as it used to be but a lot of Scottish families still do this.

That being said, Johnny would DEFINITELY find a way to get you wearing his family’s tartan, whether it’s a tie, bandana, shirt, hair ribbon, whatever. Because even if you’re not a MacTavish YET, he’s planning on making you one eventually.

[idliketobeatree]

Aziraphale having both a Derringer and an arms licence tell me that in the Wild West flashback we didn't get he'd be the one to go oh dear, I rather think there can be only one cowboy in this town :) *pats his belt*

and Crowley would just hey lemme see what ya have....... A Gun? NO

[yume-fanfare]

actually fr love that mayoi and tomoya share a room because we have top 3 most goth beds with what is supposed to be the most average bed by definition

[sidereous]

Doing the bare minimum for Textile/Fashion Worldbuilding by asking "what if there was a long strip of fabric-?"

Rich or poor, leisurly or doing hard labor, on the moons of Saturn it's very common to have a sash as part of your outfit, which can be worn a number of ways- although it's not typically long or wide enough to wear as THE main part of the outfit

[floorpancakes]

[minionwater]

some fashion practice w icarus n stevie in cultural formalwear :3

[aj-lenoire]

i really like that jesper was in a kilt this season. i like to think his father would wear them sometimes, since the wandering isle is presented as a sort of fantasy version of ireland/scotland, so when jesper wears one it reminds him of colm

[noneorother]

I broke down the hilarious amount of "Aziraphale tartans" so you don't have to.

I've been slowly going bonkers collecting the amount of times members of the cast/creators and fans of Good Omens over the years have referred to various things as "Aziraphale's tartan". Even on merchandise, I've seen wildly varying opinons about what pattern Aziraphale's tartan actually is. Your resident graphic designer has decided to sit down and just do the damned thing*. Exhibit A) Tartan Origin

Sarah Arnett posted this image to her instagram in 2019, having created "Heaven's dress tartan for the character Aziraphale". However, the only time I've actually seen this pattern used in good omens is in the season 2 announcement poster made by Mickey, and maybe on a pair of socks Aziraphale wears in season 1, (but I'm not convinced).

So here's what that looks like. Note I've rotated the original pattern 90 degrees clockwise in my final pattern (far right) for reasons that will become clear shortly.

Exhibit B) Aziraphale's Bowtie, Thermos, Notebook etc.

This is the tartan that Aziraphale actually wears for most of seasons 1 & 2.** It's a recoloured version of the Exhibit A), and has been rotated 90 degrees on it's bowtie application so that the darker bars run vertical, and not horizontal. The problem is, while the direction of the pattern on his accessories doesn't change, it does on the bowtie. You can see examples of the tartan going right OR left in both season 1 and 2.

Exhibit C) Aziraphale's Brown Bowtie...

This Tartan isn't just a trick of the light. For the first park bench scene in season 1, Aziraphale is wearing a version of his regular bowtie, recoloured in brown and rotated 90 degrees, so that it fits with the direction of the original Exhibit A) Tartan, but not with the direction of the tartan on his Exhibit B) regular bowties. This bowtie was made special, from cloth cut in the opposite direction.

Exhibit D) Aziraphale's Magical Cravat!

Now this is where it starts to get interesting! I haven't seen many people discuss Aziraphale's magician disguise from season 1, but his cravat actually has both Exhibit B) and Exhibit C) tartans to create a contrasting double sided tartan: the outward facing brown, and the hidden, inward facing blue (according to costumer, because of lack of enough brown).

Exhibit E) Saraqael's and Muriel's Tartan

Don't be fooled, Saraqael's and Muriel's tartan may look similar in colour to Aziraphale's, but when you pick it apart, it's got inverse colours, and mildly squished horizontal striping. If you note the orange boxes in each picture, you can see the ratio of the blue stripe to the vertical stripes in each tartan is different, while keeping the overall pattern and ratio in each direction the same. Exhibit E) has a square intersection. It's also usually woven much larger. This tartan also introduces a small sliver of hunter green into the beige/blue/purple palette that's been seen so far.

Exhibit F) Gabriel's Tartan Blanket

Like the others, Gabriel's S2E1 blanket is a variation on the original Heaven's Dress Tartan. It's got very squished horizontal striping though, and is woven even larger than the Saraqael Tartan. Most noticeably though, while it has the same grey vertical striping as Exhibit E) it's now got even more green in it, and the purple is gone almost entirely (save one line).

Exhibit F) Have a bonus Crowlee Tartan from the Season 1 body swap miracle that matches none of these.

It's silver silk though. Can I get a wahoo....?

__________________________________________ *Disclaimer: I am not Scottish, and definitely not an expert in tartan, just a tired graphic designer. If you want tartan expertise, you can go here (although I don't really agree with what they say about the main colour pattern) https://livebloggingmydescentintomadness.tumblr.com/post/189300035060/a-discourse-on-tartan

**In order to deduce colours, I've used high quality BTS footage or photography in neutral lighting whenever possible. Especially in season 2, colour grading and post processing of the final show make colour matching between scenes and/or seasons impossible.

[candysims4]

CAPPUCCINO CROPPED CARDIGAN

VERSION 2

I've been using the first version of this cardigan a lot for fall outfits for my Sims. But sometimes you need a refresh, so I made a second version with unrolled sleeves.

Remaking the textures was challenging, as I lost the original files. So, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. Sure, a two-year gap between the first and second versions made the textures look different as my style changed. I stayed loyal to the initial design and kept the same swatch colors. Still, it has that same lovely and cozy look. On the photos, I have paired them up with a few accs: "Suellen Tank Top" and "Danika Top," and a dress that I love a lot to combine for many styles, "Rosalia (Dress) Skirt." I hope you like the new version! I can't wait to see the outfit you put together with it. 💖

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

3.990 POLYGONS

165 SWATCH COLORS - 55 solids - 55 dark ends - 55 patterned (all tartan)

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/SWEATER

THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY) - Free release on 11th April 2024 in my site!

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTION

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO 💖

[publiccmenace]

[Image Description:

A three-panel comic with two characters. First is the protagonist of Slay the Princess, a humanoid bird person whose only defining features are a ragged mouth, two glowing white eys, and ear-tufts. The second is a therapist, a human person with pale skin, curly hair, big glasses, and a tartan shirt with a collar. The comic is almost entirely a warm monochrome, save for some orange in the second panel.

The first panel is viewed over the shoulder of the therapist, who is holding a clipboard with notes on it that read as follows:

Quiet, Long - bird man?? - look up parrot stress behaviors.

The protagonist laying on his back on a couch, wings akimbo. He is holding up his hands and gesturing as he speaks. The setup is extremely stereotypical therapy. The dialogue reads: Therapist: And how did that make you feel? Protagonist: Everything at once, yet nothing at all, a wave of collapsed probabilities still washing ashore. Therapist: So you're… confused?

The second panel depicts the protagonist looking at the viewer. He is haloed by a newborn planet, orange lava glowing in the cracks of its surface. He says, "I mean it literally. At this very moment and all the moments before and all the moments that ever will be, we are speaking through infinite spiraling thoughts. I am a fractal brought breath, my patterns repeating such that size does not matter, infinitesimal and astronomical by the same measure."

The third panel is a close-up of the therapist's face. They are looking at their clipboard, which has a page flipped up, with wide eyes and a pinched mouth. They say "I see." A thought bubble off to their side reads "They did NOT cover this in therapy class."

End Image Description].

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

sleeping w/ the mercs [NOT LIKE THAT]

sorry the formatting is shit i made this on mobile 🫤

shitty headcanons abt the mercs rooms and ur guys’ sleeping arrangements hope u enjoy like and subscribe it’s rly long so it’s under the cut

scout:

-very very messy room

-but like he knows where all his shit is so whatever works for him

-his mattress is on the floor bro 💔 just kidding but his bed frame is pretty low to the ground so it might as well be

-he’s got a smaller bed and a single blanket so you both are gonna be cuddling whether you wanted to or not

-surprisingly soft sheets, he stole some of spy’s fancy silk ones so it’s pleasant

-always has a fan/AC unit going for the noise but his blanket is pretty thin so it’s colder than you’d probably prefer

-kicks a lot in his sleep so just be prepared 🤕

-doesn’t snore very loud but does drool a lot and he usually ends up laying his face on your chest/your head so you are gonna wake up a little soggy sorry 💔💔

-usually falls asleep around 11pm or midnight but does wake up at random hours of the early morning almost nightly before passing back out

-pretty much always wakes up before you, he goes on morning jogs everyday so if you’re up for it he’ll take you with him

-does like to surprise you with “breakfast” in bed (it’s dry cereal and a tiny carton of orange juice but he tried)

soldier:

-really REALLY plain room

-it’s a little eerie, everything is very clean and the walls are bare concrete bc the rooms at RED headquarters are basically prison cells

-the only decoration in his room is an american flag, his bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock and a little bald eagle stuffed animal the guys got him for christmas one year

-sleeps stiff as a board on his back so he isn’t the greatest cuddle buddy but will do so if you ask (he prefers spooning over anything else)

-he’s got a decently sized bed cause he’s a pretty big guy, so you’ve got room to move around

-his mattress is pretty hard though so it isn’t super comfortable but it’s better than the floor or some old military cot

-goes to bed at 10pm sharp every single night and wakes up at 5am for morning training and will try to get you to get up with him regardless of when you fell asleep

-if you don’t opt to get out of bed he does wake you up again with a plate of food (courtesy of engineer, soldier’s just the delivery guy)

pyro:

-probably the weirdest room out of everybody’s

-their bed is really nice, they’ve got a pillow top mattress and fuzzy blankets so it’s very soft but it’s overcrowded with some burnt looking stuffed animals and an insane amount of throw pillows

-the other decoration is really weird though don’t pay too much attention to it, it’s kinda creepy but it’s also pyro so 🤷🏻‍♀️

-doesn’t sleep in the flame-proof suit but they do sleep in onesie-esque pajamas

-doesn’t sleep in the mask either but they do use a sleeping mask and are usually face down in the pillows

-not the biggest cuddle person either but they aren’t above putting an arm around you or something similar

-always goes to sleep after you do and wakes up before you too

-they usually already have a cereal bar or some other sweet breakfast food on the nightside for you when you do wake up though

demo:

-THE MOST WELCOMING COZIEST ROOM THE IDEAL ROOMIE

-very warm, comforting room, he’s got a fuzzy rug put down and only uses lamps because the overhead light usually hurts his eye

-very large, very soft bed with warm blankets and soft pillows

-the pillows all have a faint smell of whiskey but whatever

-very much a cuddler, sober or not. he doesn’t move around much in his sleep and is a very heavy sleeper so once he’s out he’s out and you are stuck in that bed until he wakes up

-does snore but it isn’t obnoxious

-takes the eyepatch off and wears a bonnet to bed to protect his hair (he has multiple but his favorite one has his family’s tartan as the pattern)

-a night owl, he doesn’t get to sleep until 2-3am and usually wakes up the latest out of everybody (around 9-10am) and he will get pouty if you aren’t there when he wakes up

engineer:

-his room is basically an extension of his workshop, he’s got a desk crammed full of random bullshit and blueprints he hasn’t gotten around to testing yet

-doesn’t spend much time in his actual room, so aside from extra tools, spare parts and papers there isn’t much in there

-his bed is actually pretty comfortable but he hardly ever makes it out of his workshop before passing out for the night so he wouldn’t know 😒

-when he DOES go to bed in his room, he is a HUGE cuddler, he will not let you go under any circumstances

-does snore pretty loud but if you wake him up he’ll readjust himself so he snores less

-usually sleeps on his left side so you don’t accidentally roll onto his prosthetic hand and hurt yourself

-no matter what time he fell asleep the previous night, he always gets up at 6am and makes the team breakfast. he’ll let you sleep more while he’s cooking and surprise you with breakfast in bed (even though he does it everyday so it isn’t much of a surprise)

heavy:

-HUGE ASS BED

-like california king

-he’s obviously a big guy but he does move around a lot so he needs a bigger bed so he won’t fall off every night

-very very warm bedding, he brought most of his stuff from russia so it’s built to keep you warm

-has a little teddy bear his mother handmade for him when he was first born; it’s pretty worn and tattered but he brings it with him anywhere he lives

-does have a little padded box for sasha at the foot of his bed

-isn’t the biggest sleep cuddler but he does like to hold you beforehand. he doesn’t mind when you cuddle him in your sleep, though, so by all means pass out on his chest if you feel like it

-does some reading before he goes to sleep and is usually in bed by 9 or 10pm; wakes up at 5 every morning so soldier doesn’t have to do his morning routine alone

-likes waking you up around 7am so the two of you can have some light conversation with engie during breakfast

medic:

-sleeps on the operating table

-just kidding, but he usually ends up passing out on his desk rather than his room

-his room is very sterile; it kinda feels like a doctor’s office, it smells faintly of rubbing alcohol and is a little drafty so it’s usually pretty chilly

-has birdcages hanging from the ceiling, archimedes has a fancier one compared to the rest of his doves but he swears he isn’t playing favorites

-if you do manage to get him to leave the medbay he’s usually pretty delirious. he’s very affectionate when he’s tired so he’s definitely down for cuddling

-is kinda blind without his glasses so he keeps them on until the very last minute before he falls asleep

-likes to tell you stories of when he did have his medical license and when he lived in germany

-usually falls asleep with his back to you but when he wakes up he’s holding you to his chest

-usually wakes up at 5am as well and goes straight into taking care of his birds, he likes to whistle littles tunes to them so that may end up waking you as well

-almost never eats breakfast but he will be pestering you about it because he’s a hypocrite

sniper:

-well

-it’s a camper van

-it’s very cramped but he’s used to it just being him in there so he never really realized

-his bed folds up into the wall when he isn’t using it and he keeps his bedding folded next to it

-very used to living in much hotter climates, and even though it is new mexico it gets pretty cold at night so he’s usually shivering his ass off under a thin sheet

-is surprisingly clingy for someone so introverted and quiet, he claims it’s because you keep him warm but he’s also just a mushy guy in secret

-usually falls asleep watching some shitty DVD on his little portable dvd player he keeps on a counter next to his bed

-keeps his kukri hidden next to the mattress just in case

-very light sleeper and once he’s awake, he’s awake. poor guy barely ever gets any sleep because soldier is usually screaming outside the van 3 hours after he’s gotten to bed

-doesn’t eat breakfast, but he will make you a cup of coffee in the morning

spy:

-ugh

-bought all of his bedding and the mattress purely based on looks so it’s pretty surprising that it ended up being comfortable

-will not let anybody have their shoes on in his bedroom, you have to leave them in his smoking room if you wanna come in

-kinda like medic in the fact that he goes to bed not even looking at you but wakes up all over you. he is kind of an asshole about it being like “aw babe you literally think i’m irresistible even in your sleep” when HE’S the one that cuddled up to you

-keeps his butterfly knife under his pillow and a pistol in his bedside drawer

-always falls asleep after you and is always awake and out of bed by the time you get up

-he doesn’t eat engineer’s breakfast because he claims it’s “too filling and unhealthy to be eating that much as soon as you wake up” so he always makes a little french breakfast for himself

-he pretends like he doesn’t do anything for other people but he always makes a plate for you of whatever he makes himself and leaves it on his side of the bed with a cute little note for you

-will pretend like he has no idea what you’re talking about if you bring it up though

[actual-changeling]

Crowley moves into the bookshop purely because he returns the next day to make sure Muriel isn't setting it on fire or selling books, and then - never leaves.

Mind you, a part of him was gritting its teeth and trying to force him back into the Bentley, back to his cold, lonely Mayfair flat, back to a bed that could swallow him whole, back to nothing.

The bookshop, on the other hand, is everything. It is memories, wine-drunk, clumsy touches they both pretend didn't mean anything, hours saturated with soft chatter and candle smoke, Aziraphale's cologne, still the same, and his books. Crowley knows the place and name of every single one; he knows when he bought it, why he bought it, how many times he has read it, and if he would ever sell it (the answer is a resounding 'no').

It is Aziraphale as much as his vest, coat, and tartan patterns are him. as much as the breath in his lungs and the angel on the tip of his tongue are him. It is a fragile fantasy of what could have been and what they almost had.

So yes, Crowley moves into the bookshop, Muriel sells no books, and sometimes, when the wine bottles go empty too quickly and too early in the evening, he closes his eyes and pretends.

"...and that was when he..."

Crowley isn't really listening anymore, contentedly sprawled across the couch and occasionally taking another sip from his half-empty glass. Watching him talk has the same appeal as watching him eat: the damp slide of his lips, his tongue darting out, the reverence with which he shapes his vowels and consonants.

He shuffles closer to the backrest when his hips threaten to slide straight off the cushions, and Aziraphale pauses, eyes locked on his exposed collarbone as his shirt refuses to move with him.

It is warm, too warm, the candles are almost close to burning down into puddles of wax; and they have been on the wrong side of midnight for a while now. For a few seconds, Crowley allows himself to indulge.

Never breaking eye contact, he could gracefully push himself upright (shut up, let him have this; we all know he'd look about as graceful as a newborn foal) and slink over to Aziraphale, who is sitting frozen in his armchair.

He could pluck his wine glass from his grasp and put it right next to his own, swallowing when he licks a lingering drop of red from his bottom lip. He could lower himself onto his lap, thighs spread apart and bracketing his, and he could press his fingers to his flushed cheeks and gently pull him in.

Crowley could kiss him and taste their shared wine, the lamb roast he had for dinner, and the vanilla cupcake, which watching him eat almost drove Crowley insane. Beneath it all, a spark of fresh air and ozone; lightning and power prickling right beneath his skin.

Crowley could kiss him, and Aziraphale would kiss him back, and the world would finally be alright.

"Are you alright, dear boy?"

Crowley hasn't moved, Aziraphale has picked up where he left off, and they're five feet apart, but it might as well be an ocean.

"'think I've had enough to drink," he mutters, and when the disappointment in his angel's eyes hits, he gets up (clumsy, not graceful, panicked, and attempting to flee) and is gone before Aziraphale has a chance to stop him.

Crowley's head hurts something awful, and he blinks himself out of his stupor, ignoring the cooling track of tears on his cheeks. Aziraphale is gone, he reminds himself, and he reaches for another bottle without taking his eyes off the empty armchair staring him down.

Crowley kissed him, and he kissed back for one marvellous second, and then the world was not alright.

And then he left.

The lights are off, as they always are nowadays, and so he drinks as much as he can in one go and falls back with creeping dizziness in his periphery.

Crowley's eyes flutter close on their own volition, and so he rewinds and rewinds until he finds the one fantasy where everything turns out alright.

It's the one that hurts the most.

It's the only one he watches over and over again.

[quotidianish]

ANOTHER human au art compilation! Here’s the first! More info about the AU and their cultures under cut ~

Groundwork:

-Abilities which stem from things inherent to dragon biology (fire, venom, frostbreath, gills, etc.) aren’t present. More traditionally supernatural gifts (mindreading, oracle, animus magic, etc.) are still present. In retrospect this makes the Nightwings completely op but shhh

-Each tribe is inspired off a mishmash frankenstein of different real-world cultures

-Dragons are an endangered species, just a hum in the background and nearly hunted to extinction. They’re hardly considered a threat, especially when most humans haven’t even seen one in their lives. Once the centre of each people’s culture and civilisation, they’re now nothing more than Bigfoot sightings or exotic pets.

Culture:

-Sandwings are the least homogeneous tribe and take inspiration from various cultures in the Indian subcontinent and Arab nations (most largely India and Palestine). Many subcultures exist within the larger Sandwing kingdom. Common identifies (not present in them all, but there will usually be at least one) include gold accented accessories, darker skin, and clothing with light, desaturated, yellow/orange tones. They’re renowned for their abundance of poison, excellent street food, musical talent, and stereotypically maliciously intelligent. Regardless of class there’s a nation wide pattern (you can find the reference for it by Qibli’s headscarf) symbolising trade routes, oasis waters and dunes. It’s a symbol of national pride (included on thorn’s dress, and ostrich’s headband/headscarf).

-Nightwings are, on the contrary, the most homogeneous tribe due to their small population. They’re based on Japan (spanning multiple eras). I like to think the Nightwings lost a lot of their culture after migrating to the volcano, for they were once the most religious tribe, worshiping the moon alongside the Icewings, which I’ll get to later on their cultural similarities. I promise it’ll make sense. By now, all their deeply religious traditions have been relegated to superstitions. It was said they were blessed by the moons, but the connection has been largely severed. Only old dresses follow the tradition of embroidering in the moons they were born under. Moonwatcher’s dress is something akin to a hand-me-down, as are her silver earrings, it’s by coincidence it lined up with her actual birthday. Moon’s family was an exception because she came from a long line of seers (or alleged seers) who have done their best to preserve a crumbling culture. Common identifiers include near pitch black clothing and skin as pale as the moon. 

-Icewings have some of the largest populations, however, are surprisingly homogenous. Most sub-cultural differences are as a result of class. They’re based on Mongolia and Manchuria. Like Nightwings they are also deeply religious, maintaining their beliefs through rigorous scholarship. Hair has intrinsic religious value as a gift from your family- therefore it cannot be cut. The same goes for ear piercings and any other physical alterations to your body. IceWing jewellery as a result is very distinct because of its lack of need for an ear piercing, hooking around the back of the ear instead. Common identifies include long/braided hair, and light, cool-colored clothing suited for the cold.

-Skywings are loosely Scottish inspired, and I do not have a lot to say about the rest of the tribes. Most of their clothing have feathered accents. The peregrine is a sign of luck and wealth, with their feathers being adorned on the upper classes. Geese and chickens, being common farm animals, are found adorned on working classes. The second richest tribe, employing silver, gold, lazuli, and about any gem they can find in their clothing. Common identifies include curly orange/red hair, taller statures, feathered accents, a tartan like pattern, and clothing ranging from yellow to magenta.

-Seawings are loosely based on various Polynesian cultures, most prominently that of the Māori. The sea has an intrinsic religious value to them, with all children learning to swim, sail, and/or fish. They live off the sea’s resources, rarely consulting the surrounding land for supplies. On rare occasions albatross birds and seagulls are plucked for headdresses. These are reserved for high ranked royalty. Their clothing is loose and well adapted for the warm beach setting. Common identifiers of Seawings include ta moko like tattoos, olive skin, and clothing ranging from lime to purple.

-Rainwings are loosely based on Thai, Indonesian, and Cambodian cultures. They’re colourful and have the second largest poison reserves (bested by sandwings). Having once been a trade centred tribe, now they’re isolationist, albeit not intentionally. They have many history records, almost as detailed as that of Icewings, but the art has been lost to a changing cultural atmosphere. Once too religious, now their intrinsically religious practices are more cultural. Their clothing is similar to sandwings in the fact they cover as much of the body as convenient but remain loose and breezy. Common identifiers include bronze tan skin, vibrant pigmented clothing, and flower motifs. Nightwing villages don’t follow that guideline, they build on the ground as a tribe with a focus on hunting. I’m assuming everything in this universe is made proportional to dragons, hence why the trees are so large. This assumption is based off that specific panel of Bandit in the book six graphic novel eating a blueberry as big as his head. 

-Mudwings are sooo underdeveloped in my au (following in the steps of Tui herself) but they’re based on southern Chinese and Vietnamese cultures! They live in cities akin to Chinese floating villages, Vietnamese floating markets, and Tulou (architectural style of the Chinese Hakka) made of mud bricks. They're a very agricultural based people. Many of their villages are isolated communities- their emphasis on family extending to their towns. Common identifiers include umber skin, straw conical hats, and practical clothing in shades of brown.

[nouearth]

a lover's quarrel.

pairing ; dick grayson x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, nightwing. word count ; 589. genre; fluff. rating ; pg. warnings ; blue is dick's color, playful quarreling, stressed!dick.

“okay, just gotta get my keys and-“ dick’s voice caught onto the draft when he entered the bathroom, lips parted as he was dumbstruck when your outfit met his eye. 

the fifth try at your necktie kept you alert, attentive to every loop and knot the mirror reflected back at you. the night has been stressful and you admitted to yourself that it was a conscious effort to drown out dick’s voice, especially when he’s been stressed and cranky ever since bruce called to have dinner with the two of you. though you couldn’t blame him. it’ll be your first time meeting bruce and from what dick has told—maybe even convinced—you of him, he seemed intimidating.

with one last tug, you broke out into a wide smile when the blue tartan necktie lied neatly on your chest, completing the rest of your outfit. you’ve never been too keen on dressing this formally, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think you looked good—handsome even.

“huh! what do you think?“ the tie swung with you when you turned towards your boyfriend, your hands gestured downwards the length of your figure where your gaze would follow and his does too. “don’t i look dashing? haven’t dressed like this since my friend’s funeral-“

“change your tie.” dick bluntly stated, an uncompromising tone that you’re set to deter.

 “what- no! why!” you turned back towards the mirror in disbelief, brows furrowed in frustration as you began adjusting your tie again, ignoring the approaching man occupying the space to your side.

“come on, we can’t meet bruce with matching ties!” 

“what are you talking about?” the roll of your eyes met the back of your eyelids as you had already convinced yourself dick was being dramatic again, but you were tongue-tied when your gaze landed on a familiar pattern. blue tartan. “oh- okay, well i started dressing up first! you saw me grab the tie!”

 “yet you finished last!” he grumbled, marching back into the bedroom. you heard his drawer opening, which prompted you to follow him—only after double-checking your dress-shirt is wrinkle free and your hair is up to satisfaction. “and i saw you with A TIE, not with THE TIE.”

“what’s the point in even gifting me this tie if i can’t wear it? and why did you buy me the same one you already have?!” you watched dick shuffle through his assortment of neckties as you leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. the sound of fabric swept over another filled the silence while dick began narrowing down different options, pondering.

“…because it’s cute to have matching ties.” amusing yet annoying, that was all you could say about this argument—if you could even call it that.

“then what’s the problem-“

“just not tonight, y/n.” turning back, dick squinted as he held several different neckties out towards you as if you were a ken doll, framing the accessory just beneath your chin so it would align with your actual tie.

“oh my god, then why don’t you change your tie?”

“blue looks great on me.”

“okay, well so do i?”

“washes you out a bit.” you scoffed. usually you’d fire back with a banter, but you’re much too annoyed to keep this going. instead, you neared closer to him only to fall back onto the bed with a composed sigh, arms sprawled out to open the space between your chest, expecting dick to change your tie for you.

“how about red?”

“dick, i swear to god-“

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Seven

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Javi P got a lot of attention last week, both his visit to the bakery and for the many Pickled Peña fics he starred in. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! It really means more than you probably reaslise! It's been a rough week and I feel lucky to have found a great community here and to have found so much fun and enjoyment in writing to keep my mind off things.

This week's Pedro boy is dedicated to my lovely friend @secretelephanttattoo who is not only an amazing writer, but also one of the best people I've meet on Tumblr. Love you ❤

Series Master List

Working in a bakery almost every day means you pick up on people’s habits, whether they come into the shop or not. You know the bookshop owner across the streets always arrives ten minutes late on Tuesdays. The bodega owner next to your bakery always picks up his dry cleaning on Fridays and the dry cleaning lady always throws out her trash on Thursday evening. And you know that the cute guy with a dimpled smile always walks past your shop at about eight forty-five every weekday morning. 

He hasn’t always walked past, it started just a few weeks ago, but now it’s routine. You’d first noticed him when he stumbled over something on the sidewalk, smacking his hand against your window to keep his balance, and making you jump. He’d given you an apologetic smile, that’s how you know he’s got a deep dimple on his left cheek. And a really, really, great smile. 

The next morning you noticed him again as he glanced in through the window and smiled, a quick wave as he hurried down the street. And the same thing the next morning and then it was a routine. Around eight forty-five, between customers, you’d keep glancing over at the window until you see him walk past in his well fitted business suit, always a tie flapping in the breeze. He has a routine with those too you notice; a blue tartan pattern on Mondays, slate gray on Tuesdays, navy blue with white dots on Wednesday and the then tartan one again on Thursdays before he ditches the ties on Fridays. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that seeing him is the highlight of your day, but when one day he doesn’t pass by, you notice. And when the rest of the week passes and he doesn’t show up at all, you feel a little bit sad, even though you never even spoke with him. 

Monday morning, eight thirty, and you’re working your way through the morning rush, serving coffee and selling croissants and cinnamon rolls, he suddenly appears again. But this time he’s in front of your counter, holding on to a credit card as he smiles down at you. 

“Hi,” he says, the dimple deep in his cheek, “I thought it was about time I stopped by and said hello properly.” 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless, he’s even cuter, and handsome, up close, and you’re suddenly very aware of your shiny face, straggly hair and stained apron. 

“I’m Marcus, Marcus Pike,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’m the creepy guy who slams into your window and never comes inside.” 

“Hi Marcus,” you reply, taking his hand, hoping yours isn’t too sweaty and clammy, “I’m the creepy baker who stares at you every morning.” 

He laughs at that, a warm sound that makes your spine tingle as his eyes crinkle at the corners, a wide smile making another dimple pop on his cheek. 

“I guess we need to be less creepy then,” he chuckles, “maybe I can start by buying a coffee like a normal customer?” 

“That sounds like a good start,” you smile back at him, “what would you like?” 

“A cappuccino, please,” he glances up at the coffee menu behind you. 

“Coming right up, anything else?” You motion at the fresh croissants and pain au chocolat piled up on the counter and he looks at them with longing. 

“I would love too, really…but my job, we’ve got this fitness test thing in a few weeks and I’ve got to be in shape for that. That’s why I started walking to work, instead of taking the metro.” 

���Come back when the test is done then, if you pass, it’ll be on the house,” you wink at him over your shoulder as you start preparing his cappuccino. 

“Now there’s the motivation I need,” Marcus laughs, stepping back and glancing over the selection inside the display cases, “But you don’t have my favorite I think.” 

“No? What’s your favorite then?” you ask, “No, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” 

“Ok,” Marucs smiles as you hand him the cappuccino in a takeaway cup,” what’s my favorite?” 

You look him up and down, and he grins and takes a step back so that you can see all of him, holding out his arms and giving you a little spin. 

“Hmm…business suit, always a tie, well polished shoes and a job that requires fitness tests…” you hum, enjoying the chance he’s given you at properly taking him in. His suit stretches almost  tight over his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, and when he holds out his arms, the shirt underneath hangs on for dear life. The suit jacket lifts up over his butt as he turns and you’re given the privilege of eyeing it for the first time. It’s just as cute as the rest of him and you have to mentally chastise yourself for ogling. 

“What’s your guess?” he smiles, coming to a stop in front of you again. 

“Carrot cake, but you wipe off the frosting to stay healthy,” you say and he manages to look both cute, amused and offended at the same time. 

“No way, I would never sacrifice the frosting!” he says, pretending to be insulted as he grins, “but nice try, I really like carrot cake, but it’s not my favorite.” 

“Hmm…maybe-”

“No,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand, “you get only one guess per day, you can guess again tomorrow.” He gives you a warm smile and as he taps his credit card to pay for the coffee.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, keep guessing,” he says, stepping aside to let the man who’s just stepped into the shop approach the counter. With a final wave he disappears out through the door. 

The next morning he turns up again, as the morning rush dies down, and orders another cappuccino. 

“Canéles,” you say, pointing at him. “Fancy, French, just the thing a guy in a smart, well tailored suit would like.” 

Marcus grins and shakes his head, “I don’t even know what they are, but keep guessing!”

“Give me more clues then!” you protest as he takes a sip of the coffee you just handed him. 

“Hmm…I used to play bass in a band in college,” he says and you raise your eyebrows. He does not look like a bass player, or any kind of band member for that matter. 

“Special brownies?” you ask with a wink and Marcus almost spits out his coffee. 

“Definitely not,” he splutters, chuckling as he wipes his chin, “and you only get one guess per day.” 

“Says who?” you ask, but you already know the answer, Marcus’s grin tells you. 

“I do, my game, my rules,” he gives you a wink and heads for the door, “see you tomorrow!” 

Wednesday he comes in a little bit earlier and hands you a travel mug. 

“This looks brand new,” you say and he nods. 

“Decided I should save on the environment, and your takeaway mugs,” he smiles, leaning on the counter while you start preparing his coffee, “What’s your guess today then?” 

“Cinnabons,” you say, glancing over your shoulder, feeling butterflies erupt in your belly when his face splits into a wide grin. But he shakes his head and you give him a mock scowl. 

“You’re impossible to guess!” 

“Keep trying, gives me a reason to come in every morning,” he replies, “Not that I need a reason though,” he adds, a pink flush suddenly creeping up from beneath his shirt collar as he gives you an uncharacteristically shy smile. 

“I’ll keep trying if you promise to keep coming in,” you smile back at him, you can feel heat creeping up your own cheeks as you hand him his travel mug. And of course his fingers touch yours, just a light brush, but enough for both of you to glance down at your hands. You jump a little as his breath catches and when you look up at him again, his lips are parted and you see the tip of his tongue peak out, just for a split second, before he composes himself. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles, “thanks for the coffee again.” 

Thursday he’s a little bit late, and he hurries through the door with his tie hanging around his neck, untied. 

“Sorry, I worked late last night and slept through my alarm this morning,” he huffs as he reaches the counter. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” you smile, “I only sell you your coffee,” you hand him the cappuccino you’ve already made him and he gives you a grateful look, “and let me fix your tie while you caffeinate yourself.” 

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs and takes a long sip of the coffee as you walk around the counter and stand in front of him. You look up at him, taking hold of each end of his tie, and you suddenly realize you’ve never been this close to him before. There’s always been a counter between the two of you. Now he’s standing barely a foot away and you can smell his aftershave, warm and woody, as you adjust the tie. 

“Over…under…over again…” you mumble to yourself, trying to remember what your dad taught you, “up through the neck and down…there, got it,” you say, gently tightening the tie up against the collar as Marcus lifts his chin up, “but you might want to adjust it.” 

“No, it feels perfect,” he says, giving you a warm smile, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you smile back at him, tilting your head up a little to be able to meet his eyes now that he’s standing so close. You should really move back but he smells good and his eyes are so soft looking, the way he just smiles at you. 

“What’s your guess?” he asks, smoothing his hand down over his tie as you drop yours to the side. 

“What?” you mumble, slightly distracted by how his throat bobs just over the knot in the tie where your hands just where. 

“What’s your guess for my favorite baked thing?” Marcus says again and you blink, catching on. 

“Oh, of course! Uhmm…brownies? But real brownies, gooey in the middle and crunchy corners?” 

“Oh….that is definitely high up on my list, but not my absolute favorite, you’re getting close though,” he grins at you, putting down his coffee mug on the counter. 

“I’ve got to run, but….are you free tomorrow, after work?” he asks, his eyebrows knotting together as he waits for your answer. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” you say, you can’t stop the smile breaking out on your face at the question and he smiles back at you. 

“If you want, I’d really like to have dinner with you, maybe we can both drink something this time?” 

“That sounds nice, I’d like that, Marcus,” you reply, butterflies multiplying in your belly as he gently puts his hand on your arm, “and I’ll definitely figure out what your favorite is by then.” 

“It’s a date then,” he grins, “you supply my favorite and I’ll sort the rest, I’ll come by at closing, ok?” 

You nod and before you know it, he’s leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” 

Friday morning Marcus stops by and buys his, by now, regular coffee, “So what’s my favorite?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“Not telling you,” you smirk at him, “I’ll serve it tonight, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it figured out now.”

“I can’t wait,” he chuckles, winking at you before he grabs his travel mug and hurries off to work. 

Your day drags on and your nerves tingle every time you glance up at the clock at the wall. When the shop quietens down after lunch you prepare what you hope is Marcus’s favorite dessert, putting it in the fridge for baking later. 

Just a few minutes before the clock hits closing time you hear the jingle of the doorbell and look up to see Marcus step through it. He’s changed out of his usual business suit and is wearing a leather jacket over a gray t-shirt and jeans, a bright smile as he gives you a wave. You ring up your final customer, bidding them a nice weekend as Marcus lingers to the side, and then you get a chance to say hello to him as you go to lock the door and flip the sign. 

“Hi Marcus,” you smile at him as he steps forward.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against your cheek, leaving the spot tingling and your skin warm. When he straightens up he smiles at you, his eyes soft and crinkling at the corners, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a slightly unusual plan,” he says, pointing to the duffel bag he’s got hanging from his shoulder, “Dinner’s on me, but in your kitchen.” 

“You’re cooking for me?” you ask and he nods. 

“Seems only fair, you’re making dessert, so I do the rest….well…” he gives a little embarrassed shrug, “with a little bit of help from my favorite restaurant.” 

“Sounds like a nice plan,” you say, putting your hand on his arm and his smile brightens again, “come, let me show you the kitchen then.” 

You lead him past the counter and into the back room, the kitchen clean and ready for tomorrow, except the dessert for Marcus. “What do you need?” you ask, “Help yourself to anything.” 

“First of all, I need you to sit down,” he says with a smile, looking around the kitchen for a chair and spotting only the stool with wheels on, “Not many places to sit in here, huh?” 

“When would I have time to just sit around?,” you laugh, taking your apron off and throwing it in the dirty laundry basket in the back room, “I usually just sit on the counter.” You heave yourself up onto the large workbench as Marcus starts unpacking his duffel bag. He’s hung his jacket on the hook by the door and now he’s crouched down, digging through the content at his feet. The gray t-shirt hugs his shoulders, stretching tight over his back and riding up, exposing a strip of bare skin just above his jeans. It’s so far from the man in the well fitted business suits you’ve been seeing every morning for the past few weeks, a much more relaxed Marcus. 

“Do you wear the suits every day because your job requires you too?” you ask, taking the opportunity to stretch your tired back as you get settled on the counter, baking all day takes a toll on your body. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind them but I prefer the days when I don’t have to wear them,” he answers, standing up and placing a stack of boxes next to you on the counter. “No peeking,” he says in a stern voice, smirking at you and you hold up your hands. 

“I’m not touching anything,” you reply, “But I never asked what you work with?” 

“I work at the FBI, with art theft,” he says and you widen your eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an FBI agent?”

“Yeah,” he furrows his brow as he looks over at you, “do you..is- is that a problem?” 

“No, no, not at all, I’ve just never met an FBI agent. It makes being a baker seem very tame is all.” 

“Maybe tame is good sometimes,” he chuckles and looks around the kitchen and his brow furrows again, “Hhmm…hang on, I’ll be right back,” he says, grabbing the bag and going out into the shop again, “No peeking!”. 

“What are you doing?” you call out to him as you hear tables and chairs being moved around. 

“Nothing, just setting things up, just wait there,” he calls back and a few minutes later he comes back to the kitchen. 

“Now, let’s get dinner ready,” he smiles, “Plates and a small saucepan?” 

You direct him to them and soon he’s arranging food on two smaller plates. 

“Miss,” he says, winking at you and holding out his arm, “Let me show you to your table.” 

“How nice, please lead the way,” you smile at him and slip off the counter, taking his arm. He brings you out into the café part of the bakery and leads you to one of the small round tables by the window. He’s put a white table cloth on it and set two candles in the middle, another few candles arranged around the shop. The sun is setting outside and in the dim light of the shop the candles spread a golden glow, giving it an atmosphere you’ve never seen before. 

“Marcus…this is lovely, I’ve never had my shop look so nice before,” you say, sitting down as he pulls out the chair for you, “It’s so…romantic,” you let it slip out without thinking but Marcus puffs up a little and beams down at you.  

“I’m glad you like it, I really like your shop,” he smiles, “and I really like the shop owner, I wanted to make it special for you.”  

“You might be my very favorite customer, Marcus,” you smile back up at him, your cheeks heating up and he grins. 

“First course is coming right up,” he says with a smile and disappears into the kitchen. 

“You should give food walking tours of the city,” you joke as Marcus smiles at you from across the table. “I’m so full but I still want to go and eat at all your favorite places right now.” 

“I’d take them here first,” he says, “and make sure everyone knows where the best bakery in town is, but…” he leans forwards and grins at you, “Speaking of baking, I want to know if you’ve guessed my favorite dessert yet.” 

You give him a soft laugh and mimic his movement, leaning forward to meet him across the table, “I think I might have, I just need to go and turn on the oven and then they’ll be ready in a few minutes. But I just realized, you never said what my reward would be for guessing correctly.” 

Marcus hums, tapping his long fingers on his chin as he looks at you, a mischievous smile making the corner of his mouth curl up. 

“I don’t think we agreed on anything, but if you go turn on the oven and I’ll come up with something good,” he says, his smile widening, making your skin heat up as his eyes seem to suggest something enticing. 

Thank god for your industrial oven, it turns on and heats up to the right temperature in no time. While you pull out the dessert plates and take the ice cream out to soften, it hums to life and pings. The dessert goes in and you set a timer and go back out to Marcus, sitting down at the table again. 

“It just needs a few minutes,” you tell him, “did you come up with a reward?” 

“Yeah, I did, but what if you guess wrong?” he asks, “I need a reward too.” 

“If I’m wrong…” you say, thinking out loud, “you tell me your favorite, and no matter what it is, I’ll make it for you.” 

“That’s a nice idea,” Marcus smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps, you swear you can hear a seam ripping behind him, “but I like my idea better.” 

“What’s your idea then?” you ask, giving him a suspicious look, he’s got a very happy grin as he looks at you. 

“If you guess wrong, I can take you on a second date,” he says and you laugh, that’s probably the easiest reward he could’ve asked for and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he sees your laughter.

“Hardly a difficult reward, Marcus,” you smile at him and he gives you a warm smile back, “But what if I guess right, what’s my reward then?” 

“If you guess right, you get to take me on a second date,” he grins and you feel little happy bubbles in your chest as his soft eyes stay locked with yours, you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“Deal, Marcus,” you say, holding out your hand to him. He leans forward and takes it, his large hand enveloping yours, thick fingers gently closing around yours as you both shake on it. 

“I can smell chocolate,” he grins, glancing at the kitchen, “I think you’re on the right track.” 

“I know you, Marcus,” you laugh, “all serious business suits on the outside, but a wild child on the inside, bass player and all.” 

“Hardly the definition of a ‘wild child’,” Marcus chuckles, “now, if I’d been lead singer or lead guitar, then maybe.” 

“Well, the dessert is only a little bit of a wild child, the defining factor is that at its heart, it’s very romantic, just like you.” 

Marcus gives you a slightly embarrassed smile, “It’s that obvious, huh?” 

“That you’re a romantic? Of course, but I like it,” you smile softly back at him, turning off the timer that’s just gone off, “Moment of truth. Did I guess right or not?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m getting a second date either way,” he says, winking at you as you stand up and head to the kitchen. 

Pulling them out of the oven you quickly plate the dessert and scoop up the vanilla ice cream, finishing with a light dusting of cocoa. Your hip bumps open the door to the shop and Marcus watches you eagerly as you bring the plates over and set them down on the table. 

“If this is what I think it is, you’ve got yourself a second date,” he jokes and grins up at you. 

“That’s not helpful, Marcus,” you laugh, “either way, you’ve got yourself a second date.” 

“I know, that’s the beauty of this deal,” he chuckles, picking up his dessert spoon and looking at you expectantly, “Can I guess?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” you smile and he pokes the dessert lightly. 

“Chocolate fondant?” he asks, looking up at you, raising his eyebrows, before he digs the spoon in and cuts it open. The soft chocolate cake exterior gives way to a thick river of chocolate that pours out of the interior of the little cake. Marcus giggles and scoops up a bite of both cake and sauce and puts the spoon in his mouth, humming at the flavor and closing his eyes. You watch with pride as he tips his head back and moans, the spoon still in his mouth as he sucks it clean. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a bright smile on his face when he’s finally done with his first bite. 

You shrug and smile back at him, “You’re not a health freak, you didn’t recognise the more complicated French pastry, you like gooey brownies and you’re a romantic. Chocolate fondant seemed like the obvious choice. Decadent, sweet and just the right amount of fancy,” you grin at him. 

You take a spoonful from your own fondant and put it in your mouth, watching the chocolate flow out from the inside, just the right amount of undercooked to keep the inside flowing and warm. The chocolate flavor spreads across your tongue, paired with a hint of vanilla and salt, rich and warm and you let an involuntary moan escape. When you glance up you don’t miss the dark look Marcus gives you, his eyes fixed on your mouth as he takes another spoonful. 

“You really guessed right, I love chocolate fondant, but I’ve never had one this good before,” he says, humming around the big piece in his mouth. “How come you don’t have them in the shop? Actually, don’t have them in the shop, I’d buy them all every week.” 

You giggle at his blissed out face as he takes another big bite, dropping his head into the palm of his hand as he sucks the spoon clean, “It’s like hot chocolate, brownie and chocolate sauce all in one fluffy soft shell of cake.” 

“I’m glad I guessed right, seeing your happy face makes me happy,” you smile at him and the tips of his ears go a pink in the dim light as he clears his throat and chuckles. 

“Coming to your bakery makes me happy,” he smiles, scraping the last bit of fondant from the plate while he looks up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and it’s your time to feel the heat rise in your face, his grin widens as he sees you shift awkwardly in your chair and glance at him with a smile.  

“Really, getting my morning coffee has become the highlight of my day,” Marcus says, “How sad isn’t that?” 

“Not sad, you coming into the bakery every morning has been the highlight of my day,” you say, finishing off the fondant and putting the spoon down while Marcus watches you with a smile. He suddenly pushes his chair back and stands up, holding his hand out to you. 

“Dance with me,” he says, the warmth of his hand spreading across your palm and down your arm as he pulls you to your feet. 

“There’s no music, Marcus,” you laugh but he just grins and spins you around before catching you in his arms, one around your waist, the other still holding on to your hand as you put your own hand on his shoulder. 

“Who cares about the music,” he says, gently swaying you back and forth while he gives you a soft smile, “it was just a clever ruse to get to hold you.” His hand on the small of your back is lightly stroking the fabric of your shirt and you’re very close to him, pressed up against his chest as he holds you near, moving slowly in a circle. You can smell his aftershave, mixed in with the dark chocolate of the dessert and without thinking, your hand slips into the soft looking curls at the back of his neck. Marcus tilts his head as your fingers play with the silky strands, letting go of your hand and moving it slowly to cup your face, his thumb stroking the soft skin on your cheek as he seems to inhale slightly and dip his head to yours.  

His lips are just as soft as you’ve imagined them, warm, gentle, as he parts them and tastes you. His steady hand holds you close, the curve of his strong nose brushing up against your cheek as he angles his head to better kiss you. You feel your fingers gripping his hair, willing him to press you even closer to him. All of his warm, solid body is pressed up against yours, his hand at the small of your back sliding up to hold you closer to him, your own hand gripping his shoulder, steadying yourself as you feel like melting into his touch.  

He’s still swaying the two of you gently, your lips moving slowly together, tasting the chocolate on each other's tongues. Heat is creeping through your body, wrapping around you, as you feel him tighten his hold on you, his breath skating over your lips as he exhales, a quiet groan leaving his throat. 

“You taste so sweet, even sweeter than the dessert,” he mumbles, his mouth close to yours, “I never want to stop kissing you.” 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach more of him, your hand around his neck, and part your lips for him, letting his tongue lick into your mouth with more fervor. He also tastes sweet and the way he pulls you closer as you steady yourself against his chest makes you moan under his increasingly heated kisses. He’s not swaying you anymore, instead he lets you melt into his body, his arm holding you up, as he bends his head, another groan slipping from him as he feels your tongue slip around his own. 

Marcus’s kisses make you forget the time, where you are, and not until he pulls away with a sigh, do you open your eyes and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust, and it’s mirrored in the way his body feels against yours, his arousal a clear presence between you. And you can feel your own fill your core with heat, a slow shiver as you touch upon the thought of having him even closer. 

Marcus keeps his eyes locked on you, his warm hand gently stroking your cheek as he seems to take a deep breath, composing himself. Your fingers are still toying with the impossibly soft curls at the back of his neck, letting them slip through your fingers, and you feel like you might drown in his dark brown eyes if he doesn’t release you soon. 

“Is it too soon to ask for a second date tomorrow?” he whispers, his eyes dropping down to your lips again, and then back to your eyes as you shake your head. 

“No, tomorrow sounds like a very good idea,” you mumble, slightly hazy from the way his hands never stop touching you, warming your body and sending shivers to your core. 

“Ok,” he mumbles back, “can I kiss you again?” 

“If you do, we might not get out of here tonight, Marcus,” you smile at him and he chuckles, nodding and pulling back a little. 

“You’re very right, maybe it’s best to save more kisses for tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to them though,” you say, letting your fingers slip from his hair and down over his shoulder, caressing his arm, his wrist, and finally his hand. He takes your hand then, enveloping it in his larger one,  and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Tomorrow then,” he smiles. 

Part Eight

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

[ancientfabricspreservation]

Jan Bartek - AncientPages.com - New scientific research has revealed a piece of tartan found in a peat bog in Glen Affric around forty years ago can be dated to circa 1500-1600 AD, making it the oldest known surviving specimen of true tartan in Scotland.

The Scottish Tartans Authority commissioned Dye Analysis and Radiocarbon testing on the woolen textile to prove its age.

Scotland's Oldest Tartan On Display For The First Time!

Glen Affric tartan - Scotland's oldest-known true tartan discovered by The Scottish Tartans Authority to go on display for the first time at V&A Dundee's Tartan exhibition.

Credit: Alan Richardson Pix-AR

The first investigation was dye analysis carried out by analytical scientists from National Museums Scotland. Using high-resolution digital microscopy, four colors were visually identified for dye analysis: green, brown, and possibly red and yellow.

The dye analysis confirmed the use of indigo/woad in the green but was inconclusive for the other colors, probably due to the dyestuff degradation state. However, no artificial or semi-synthetic dyestuffs were involved in making the tartan, which pointed to a date of pre-1750s.

Further clarification on the age of the tartan involved radiocarbon testing at the SUERC Radiocarbon Laboratory in East Kilbride. The process involved washing out all the peat staining, which would have otherwise contaminated the carbon content of the textile.

The Radiocarbon testing results identified a broad date range between 1500 and 1655 AD, with the period between 1500 and 1600 AD the most probable. This makes it the oldest-known piece of true tartan found in Scotland – the Falkirk ‘tartan,’ dating from the early third century AD, is actually a simpler check pattern woven using undyed yarns.

The Glen Affric tartan, which measures around 55cm by 43cm, is now on display for the first time at V&A Dundee’s Tartan exhibition.

by TaboolaSponsored Links

The piece will be the oldest exhibit among more than 300 objects. The exhibition examines tartan’s universal and enduring appeal through iconic and everyday examples of fashion, architecture, graphic and product design, photography, furniture, glass and ceramics, film, performance, and art.

“The testing process has taken nearly six months, but the effort was well worth it, and we are thrilled with the results!

In Scotland, surviving examples of old textiles are rare as the soil is not conducive to their survival. As the piece was buried in peat, meaning it had no exposure to air and was therefore preserved.

The tartan has several colors with multiple stripes of different sizes, and so it corresponds to what people would think of as a true tartan.

“Although we can theorize about the Glen Affric tartan, it’s important that we don’t construct history around it. Although Clan Chisholm controlled that area, we cannot attribute the tartan to them as we don’t know who owned it.

“The potential presence of red, a color that Gaels considered a status symbol, is interesting because of the more rustic nature of the cloth. This piece is not something you would associate with a king or someone of high status; it is more likely to be an outdoor working garment," Peter MacDonald, Head of Research and Collections at The Scottish Tartans Authorit said.

Scotland's Oldest Tartan On Display For The First Time!

New scientific research has revealed a piece of tartan found in a peat bog in Glen Affric, Scotland around forty years ago can be dated to circa 1500-1600 AD, making it the oldest known surviving specimen of true tartan in Scotland. Credit: Credit: Alan Richardson Pix-AR

“The Glen Affric tartan is clearly a piece of national and historical significance. It is likely to date to the reign of James V, Mary Queen of Scots, or James VI/I. “There is no other known surviving piece of tartan from this period of this age. It's a remarkable discovery and deserves national attention and preservation. “It also deserves to be seen and we’re delighted that it is to be included in the Tartan exhibition at V&A Dundee,” John McLeish, Chair of The Scottish Tartans Authority, said.

“We knew The Scottish Tartans Authority had a tremendous archive of material and we initially approached them to ask if they knew of any examples of 'proto-tartans' that could be loaned to the exhibition.

I'm delighted the exhibition has encouraged further exploration into this plaid portion and very thankful for The Scottish Tartans Authority's backing and support in uncovering such a historic find.

To be able to exhibit the Glen Affric tartan is immensely important in understanding the textile traditions from which modern tartan derives, and I'm sure visitors will appreciate seeing this on public display for the very first time," James Wylie, curator at V&A Dundee said.

Tartan at V&A Dundee opens on Saturday, 1 April, until 14 January 2024.

Written by Jan Bartek - AncientPages.com Staff Writer

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Source: AncientPages.com