#Fake Designer Boots Women

[aaaplazatrade]

Why Is There Growing Demand for Replica Designer Sneakers?

Premium designer slippers and sneakers have evolved into a staple of any man's casual wardrobe since they established their sartorial foothold in the market. They bring comfort and coolness to any ensemble for men. Designer shoes have unquestionable value that other casual shoes cannot compare to the level of style, adaptability, and comfort provided by them. Plus, they are available in a huge variety, so they can be dressed up with a suit for a business casual look or down with a pair of jeans for an exquisite casual look. Though, they are expensive, but they also provide a level of attention to detail and craftsmanship that mass-market brands can’t deliver.

However, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to pay a fortune for buying designer products. With Replica Designer Sneakers creating buzz in the market, you can find stylists hand-picked budget-friendly, high-quality alternatives for the best luxury sports and athletic wear brands such as Adidas, Nike, and New Balance etc. From Gucci to Tom Ford and Balenciaga, you can get replica designer slippers and sneakers that can make you look stunning and elegant on all days.

Buying something counterfeit doesn’t correlated the value of a person. On the contrary, there is more demand for replica items such as replica designer slippers and replica designer sneakers in the current market.

There has been a combination of factors that have contributed in the rising demand for replica products. First and foremost, replicas are often much cheaper than the original products, making them an attractive option for people who want to save money but still wish to wear designer products. These are made using high quality material that they stand firm to the test of time and their quality remain untangled. Secondly, there is a constantly increasing demand for wearing replicas as a statement of personal style. For instance, replica designer sneakers like Burberry men’s sneakers are in popular demand among fashionable men.

A lot of people who buy original branded products online or in stores wish to authenticate their purchases. But there is also a growing sector of the market in search of the replica products. Buying replica fashionable products such as Replica Designer slippers and Replica Designer sneakers have become much more widespread and accessible through online marketplaces and social media platforms.

It is easy and convenient way to buy good quality replica designer products at the best prices. However, it can also be daunting task to choose the best online platform to buy replica designer sneakers and replica designer slippers. One must research to find a reputed online store known for offering quality products. They must be able to provide good warranty and return policy on the products. All of these will help you buy quality replica designer products at reasonable prices.

[hopelessrromantix]

kinktober day 10 boot riding

daddy kink, amab reader yes ill post the missing days i swear sjdkf

cis women dni

The longer you stayed at a party, the more boring it got.

Sure, getting drunk and high and fucking around with your classmates was a good time. But after hours of huddling together with sweaty drugged up teenagers and having generic music blasted into your ears, it got a bit boring.

But Billy always found a way to make it more entertaining. Normally by pulling off a rather impressive keg stand. For once, he’d offered to be the designated driver (mostly because you’d done it for the past four parties and refused to do it again), so you were downing your second drink, talking to some junior you barely knew. The buzz of a high was clouding your head, though it wasn’t enough to impair your judgment.

But apparently your boyfriend felt like pissing you off tonight.

Eventually the junior wandered off, probably to flirt with someone interested. Billy, on the other hand, was chatting up some girl from your math class. You didn’t remember her name, but you most certainly remembered the way she talked to Billy.

She gave a fake laugh, making sure to lean forward and give him a decent view of her cleavage. Not that you blamed her for trying to sleep with your boyfriend. Billy was pretty, and it’s not like she knew he had a boyfriend. So no, you didn’t hold any resentment toward the girl.

Billy, on the other hand, was in a world of hurt.

He had every chance to turn her down. Every chance to make up some half-assed excuse or just plain tell her he wasn’t into it. But no. He joked and gave her some cheesy pick-up line. The brat even had the nerve to look your way while he was doing so, giving you a wink.

You watched for a minute longer, waiting for him to make some excuse to leave. But when it was obvious he had no plans of doing so, you decided to step in for him.

“C’mon Hargrove, you’re my ride home.” Luckily your head was clear enough to make walking out easy.

Billy frowned, trying to look as disappointed as possible. “Already? But I was having fun!” The girl next to him looked sad as well, as if begging you to let him stay longer.

“Sorry, I gotta get up early tomorrow,” You said, shrugging. Tomorrow was Saturday, neither you nor Billy had anything to do. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Fine, buzzkill.”

Billy, tap dancing on your last nerve, gave the girl a wink, causing her to let out an airy giggle. You rolled your eyes, stomping out of the house. You could hear Billy mumble what was most certainly a sarcastic comment under his breath.

You sat in the passenger seat the second he opened the door, waiting as he slid into the driver’s seat a second later.

After a second of him realizing you weren’t going to speak, he started driving, the music from the party fading into the background as he did so.

“Your mom and that bastard home?” You knew the answer was no. He’d made quite a big deal about getting the house to himself while Neil dragged his step-mom and Max on a ‘family outing’. Even with Max asking, Billy was left home alone.

“No, why?” He asked, glancing over to you before his eyes returned to the road. He was perfectly aware of ‘why’, you knew that much.

“Gonna let me stay over, pretty boy?” You asked, your tone low. He nodded, quickly taking a turn to head toward his house.

The trip was short and Billy got out of the car almost immediately after you arrived. You chuckled at how eager he was, fumbling with his keys in an attempt to get in quicker.

You followed closely, heading to Billy’s room without much hesitation.

The second you got in, you closed the door, pressing Billy up against a wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, Hargrove,” you spoke quietly and quickly, though you knew he heard you from how he shivered. “You tryna get my attention, or just tryna whore around with some poor girl, hm?”

He shook his head rapidly, gulping down a breath.

Billy tried his hand at being a brat often. Always teasing you, getting your attention in public. But the second you were behind closed doors, he practically melted.

“Words, baby boy.”

“No, Daddy.”

God he knew what buttons to press.

“Then why were you flirting?” You spoke softly, loving how his eyes glazed over with lust when you did so. “Giving her hope for no reason. That just seems mean, baby.”

He made a noise of disagreement, shaking his head again. “Didn’t mean to, just wanted your attention.”

You chuckled. “No, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you slammed your lips into his before he could. You took over the kiss quickly. His arms twined around your neck, one of yours on his hip and the other gripping his hair. You gave a soft tug to his hair, forcing a loud moan out of his throat.

You slotted one thigh between his legs, giving him the chance to messily rut against you. Both your pants were tight, his jeans no doubt uncomfortable at this point.

“Pleeease just fuck me.” He was practically begging, arms tightening around you. “Please, I’m sorry for flirting with her, I won’t do it again.”

You both knew damn well he’d do it again.

“I don’t think I feel like forgiving you yet, baby.” He huffed at your words, hips still moving against your clothed thigh.

“How about this,” You suggested. You placed your hands on his shoulders, lowering him to his knees and placing your boot between his legs. “You cum in under two minutes, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your damn name.”

He nodded rapidly, head collapsing into your leg.

He moved his hands towards his jeans, only stopping when you firmly questioned what he was doing.

"I can't use my hands?" He asked, looking slightly hopeful. As if he'd get off that easy.

“If you really want me to fuck you, you can cum like this.”

He paused for a moment. “Like ‘this’?”

You smirked, tilting his head up slightly with one finger. “You think you can cum in your jeans for me?”

He shivered, nodding fervently.

"Good boy."

He started off slow, moving his hips against the firm leather of your boot. It was just enough stimulation for his sensitive cock. He was burying his face into your jeans, mouthing at your dick over the fabric. You just let him, watching as he desperately tried to get you to force your cock down his throat.

"One minute left." He whimpered.

His thrusts sped up, messily humping your boot in an attempt to get off. Barely decipherable mumbles of "please" "Daddy" and "more" tumbled out his lips, the words jumbled together and high pitched.

"You gonna cum, whore?" You asked, spitting out the term as if it was his name. He moaned, nodding.

"Please can I? Please Daddy? Wanna cum for you so you'll fuck me, please?"

You'd barely said yes before he buried his face into your thigh, hips stuttering and slowing. Cum slowly seeped through the fabric of his boxers, and suddenly he was thankful you'd waited until he was home to ruin him.

"Good job handsome," you said, leaving down and placing a surprisingly soft kiss on his forehead. "You get your reward now."

He was practically buzzing already.

[reversedumbrella]

teruki week 2024: happy birthday teruki

image description:

[ID: a five page comic for teruki week day 7: birthday. the first 3 pages happen inside a clothing shop's dressing room, where teru is trying multiple outfits while out of view mob comments on them. the first two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 1: fire/electricity. on the first fit, teru wears a top with a flame on it and fluffy long sleeves colored orange and yellow. his pants have five sections, each with flame designs. one red, one orange, one green, one blue and one purple. teru is wearing flipflops. mob comments "colorful." on the second fit, teru wears a green long sleeve shirt, a vest made out of fake lightning bolts, pants made out red, blue and black electric cables and boots. mob comments "zappy."

mob sits on a benchon the dressing room, right by him his flip phone is ringing. mob says "those look really good. anything else, Hanazawa". out of viwe teru replies "PLENTY! and with this years birthday money I might be able to take it all home!"

the second two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 2: school/festival. on the first fit teru is wearing a torn version of his school uniform. he smiles while rocking his head back and forth. mob comments "rock n' roll". on the second fit teru wears viana do Castelo's typical women clothing, nowadays just worn for an anual parade. red cloth on his head, large golden earings and necklaces. red shawl over a white shirl. large red apron over a black skirt. white socks and black shoes. mob comments "wow."

the third two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 3: star/copy. on the first fit teru wears a sparkly five point star around his head, star sunglasses, a pink top, jeans with two big sparkly stars over each knee and a lot of small stars all over, pink high heels. he wears bracelets similar to his head apparatus. mob comments "shinny." on the second fit there are two teru's each wearing outfits only differing in color, with only the shorts being the same. a top over a t-shirt over a long-sleeve shirt. shorts over leggings and sneakers. mob comments "maybe the shorts on the left…"

mob is sitting on the dressing room bench. his phone is either still ringing or ringing again. up to interpretation.

the fourth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 4: official art/omake. the first fit comes from official art. purple and blue cap, green jacket over a white shirt with a lemon pattern. red shorts over greyscale camouflage leggings. green and yellow sneakers. none of these colors go well together. mob comments "fun." on the second fit teru is wearing a beach outfit. shirtless with blue beach shorts and green sandals. he has colorful necklaces and bracelets. with his right he's grabbing abucket with a shovel inside. on his head he's balancing a beach ball wearing heart sunglasses. mob comments "careful"

the fifth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 5: hair/trauma. in the first fit teru is wearing a crazy wig that covers his upperbody and arms. it has four ponytails and is covered in braids. it also gives him a large moustache. he's wearing red leggings and green shoes. mob comments "hairy". the second fit is a brocolli and boots. both meet at his calves. his arms are free but his hands have smaller brocolli over them. this is the only fit mob doesn't comment on.

mob is sitting on the bench when teruki grabs him while saying "C'MON". mob replies "huh?!" and teru answers "you didn't really though i was buying just for me?!"

the last outfit was inspired by teruki week day 6: protagonist/rival. mob is the one wearing it. mob's outfit is a clash of colors and patterns. sweater with a star design around the neck. the neck is red, the star is orange and the rest of the sweater is yellow ith green stripes and dots. pink bell bottoms with bright pink stars. teru is showering mob in compliments. he drowns himself in dread thinking "i should have known kageyama-kun would have looked amazing regardless of what he wears. those clothes are too bold even for me but he dawns the clothes i picked with such ease. i have lost again. he is my rival even in fashion sense. there is no way i could have ever won against him…"

the next two apges are the aftermath of the shopping spree. mob and teru laugh and walk with multiple bags, teru carrying two and mob carrying the rest on his arms. happy, teru looks up and then at mob. he says "thank you for getting some time to spend on my birthday with me. i know you have a busy life". mob blushes and turns away saying " no problem. i like spending time with you…" mob phone rings again. teru points at it and says: "there goes your phone again". mob makes all his left arm bag levitate and uses it to open the phone. mob clarifies "just master reigen. there'sa complicated client . he keeps texting in case i need to go there" out of view teru comments "it's nice he calls in advance" to wich mob throws a side-eye. mob looks surprised at his phone, grabs teru and screams "we have to go!!" mob and teru run with the bags floating around them. teru goes up the satirs to reigen's office. out of view mob says "prepare for anything!" teru grabs the door handle and opens the door. inside reigen, serizawa, tome, ritsu and the awakening lab kids scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" reigen is holding a cake with 15 candles. end ID]

[anonymouscheeses]

Vaggie(Valerie) redesign with color yipee!!

I leaned her skin color to a more pink color(which i do for almost all my hazbin redesigns) because grey is NOT it girly imo... She has scars because of course she would! She doesn't mind showing some of them, but shes still a bit insecure. She'd always pick fights because well... Charlie doesn't exactly show off her royalty(which is on purpose here, she doesnt like being a royal and disguises herself as a sinner!) She has a fake eye on her hair to copy moths pattern on their wings. And uhh bow looks like moth antennae ofc. OH! She's wearing boots so it looks like she has fluffy boots when it's just her natural fluff!

*sh mentioned in parenthesis, below cut + alt and expression sheet vvv *

*(the scar under her sitch, plus the ones on her legs are by her spear. She's not insecure about the scars others made but she's embarrassed by the ones she msde herself so she hides them under clothing. She's suicidal... the literal only reason she is still alive is because of Charlie.)*

Nightgown design! I actually genuinely like her nightgown in the show, it does look a bit goofy tho. Not that it doesn't on my vaggie but.... she wants to look pretty while being muscular stawwpp ehttt 😭 I love when muscular women dress feminine cuz they r so freaking pretty ughh riididieiwow (Charlie is lucky) also she's wearing socks I don't want to even look at whatever tf she's wearing in the image 😨

I love her so much it's not even funny.

Expression sheet 😎

[persephoneflouwers]

🌺 my favourite girl direction fics under the cut! 🌺

There is nothing else in this world that I love more than women. I grew up in a family built around the strongest women I’ll ever met in my life. So powerful, so determined, yet so gentle and affectionate. Huge personalities and all.

It took me awhile to understand who I am and I’m not completely sure I do and this little world where women love women feels so safe for me.

Can I also use this post to open my research for my next wife? No, I can’t? No, I shouldn’t? Whaaaat I just did! Please, babe HMU 🫶

Anywayssss…

🌺 The changer and the changed by homosociallyyours || 60K ���️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians. Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love. When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene. It’s a time of growth for everyone involved.

🌺 It’s all gonna roll your way by 1Diamondinthesun ( @1diamondinthesun ) || 53K

Harry, Liam, Niall, and Zayn are editors at Nova, a historically progressive women’s print magazine with plans to launch digital content at the end of the summer. Louis is a single mom and temporary worker with a knack for graphic design. When investors request sweeping reform in their content, Harry and her team have to decide which principles, if any, they’re willing to compromise in order to survive as an online publication.

🌺 Bluer than velvet were her eyes (softer than satin were her thighs) by thebreadvan ( @thebreadvansstuff ) || 12K

Harry hums a melody absentmindedly as she works, bent over the sewing table, when the bell above the door chimes suddenly, announcing the arrival of a customer. Mid-stitch, Harry glances up.

“Good morning,” comes the woman’s feathery voice. Harry should probably welcome her, say something, anything, but she’s captivated by her slow and powerful walk, the click of her leather knee-high boots. With the needle hovering above the fabric, Harry slides her eyes up thick thighs, the maroon blazer that ends just above them, and the black knit dress that engulfs the woman’s figure, stretching obscenely around her bust. Jesus Christ.

Or, Harry should probably stop obsessing over her customer’s boobs, but fate can’t keep her away from Louis.

🌺 who run the world (girls!) by dolce_piccante || 11K

A femslash take on the beginning of Relief Next To Me, complete with girl!Direction, lots of tongue action, and lots of hints to the original work.

🌺 I feel it when my heart beats by Quickedween ( @becomeawendybird ) || 10K

Harry offers to be her best friend Liam's fake date to his work Valentine's Day party, and the night takes an unexpected turn.

🌺 Ride the W.A.V.E by Quickedween ( @becomeawendybird ) || 7K ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Petty officer Louis Tomlinson can't resist a good thing when it's right in front of her.

🌺 Under the R.A.D.A.R by Quickedween ( @becomeawendybird ) || 6K ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Petty officer Louis Tomlinson has been assigned to the rear admiral's fiancée for the month the couple is aboard the USS John F. Kennedy. She can only hope that he won't catch on to what they're doing... after hours.

🌺 Gotta get (me) out of my head by parmahamlarrie ( @parmahamlarrie ) || 6K

Sometimes, Harry Styles cannot get out of her head. Her ADHD, coupled with working from home, sometimes makes it impossible for her to ever find peace. Luckily, she has Louis, her loving girlfriend and Daddy, to take care of her.

Or the one where Harry gets her first collar.

🌺 Pacify her by yeah_alright ( @uhoh-but-yeah-alright ) || 5K ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry's anxiety is acting up. Louis has the only thing that will soothe her.

OR Louis' pussy is the ultimate pacifier.

🌺 To sleep, perchance to ream by yeah_alright ( @uhoh-but-yeah-alright ) || 4K

Louis has never minded that Harry tends to go to sleep earlier than her. But the nights when Harry signals she'd like Louis to...wake her when she comes to bed are Louis' favorite.

🌺 The Christmas (to the one I’ve been missing) by Kikiberoski16 ( @larrysballetslippers ) || 3K

“Thank you, Louis,” Miss cutie said with a light whine. Louis nodded and walked with her to the paper sheets' aisle. To hear the girl's soft footsteps behind her was more than satisfying. So polite and cute, the fact she remembered Louis name said- “Wait, how do you know my name?”

or, Louis almost made it to the end of her shift before someone familiar stepped into the store. A long awaited Christmas tale.

🌺 Tear it off by ialwaysknewyouwerepunk ( @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk ) || 3K

Harry and Louis are married and have a toddler. Their home life is a cuteness overload, and then grandma Anne comes by to pick up the kid for a day out. Harry and Louis are then alone, perfect timing for a little bedroom adventure. Including, you guessed it, harry's pink cowboy get-up from coachella.

🌺 little pink skirt by ialwaysknewyouwerepunk ( @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk ) || 3K ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Harry, Louis, Zayn and Liam are at a festival. It's the afternoon of the last day, and they're lounging on the grass before the action starts, still recovering from the night before. There's a bunch of sexual tension between H and L from where things left off in their drunken haze. When Louis tries to light a spliff, the wind makes it impossible to do so, for which Harry has an ingenious idea. And then one thing leads to another.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

I keep thinking about this photo and the way Miyoshi characterized them with their new, modern outfits so well.

Miyoshi has talked actually quite a bit about the character designs for the characters in this series, and it's very obvious how much thought and care was put into each of them--to the point of having Billy designed before chapter one.

And I think that's really reflective here, even in these normally impossible outfit choices.

Let's start with Louis: He's the only brother wearing color (blue jacket, orangey-brown boots), as William and Albert are both in head-to-toe neutrals. Louis has a lot of that, too, but Louis has this thing going on where...none...of his clothes...quite...go...together.

He's wearing what looks to be joggers??? With a very nice ribbed turtleneck sweater. Just wildly clashing formality levels here. And a nice hooded duffle jacket, which falls in a weird formality level between those two extremes and doesn't quite work with the turtleneck. A hooded jacket and turtleneck is, ah, not what one would consider a particularly "fashionable" choice. And then's he wearing what looks like hiking work boots. Those are not fashion boots, either, and they're not sneakers.

My point is, what even is this combo? He looks like he got dressed in the first things his hands grabbed out of the closet and then shoved the only pair of shoes by the door on his feet on his way out of the door--his pants are tucked into them, but lazily. The shoes have fake elastic laces, which look childish and are also lazy. He does not care.

And Louis has never been one for looks over practicality: he scarred his own face because it was expedient and useful. And yet there's a pop of color and life to him that his brothers and their mental issues don't quite have. A childishness to the rushed mismatch of things and the most casual clothes any of the brothers have.

William will be quicker, mostly because I already talked about the fact that's he's dressed like a beatnik, a subculture known for its focus on art, anti-commercialism, and equality. So. Yeah.

But William also looks a little like Louis in that he probably doesn't care much about his appearance: he probably has a closet just full of all black clothing he can always match and a neutral, plain trench with no adornment.

He's also dressed to attract as little attention as possible. He's attractive, of course, and his clothes look nice and fit well. But they're incredibly unremarkable, with no accessories or styling to them. No sparks of bright colors. Just there, fitting in, going unnoticed, much like his regular ol' suit in the main canon. If he dressed like Louis, it would attract attention by being different so he puts a little more effort in.

And last, Albert. Albert is the only one of his brothers wearing accessories: that scarf is a fashion scarf, not a functional one (for all that it seems a little chilly, as they're all wearing coats over what appear to be sweaters). He has gloves. I think I've seen those fashion booties in the Women's department. His collar is popped and his pants are cuffed.

But none of those are flashy, expensive accessories. He's not got a 2k dollar watch or cufflinks or furs or even any color. He's in neutrals just like William, and his clothes are rather plain. But the focus with him is on the way he wears them: he's put effort into the scarf and gloves and making sure those very closely fitting pants go OVER the boots and then cuffed them to show off the boots even though they don't appear long enough to need the cuffing for height (and he's mfing tall, like, finding pants for those legs must be hard enough). He looks nice, he looks fashionable and neat and well-cared for...but he doesn't look like a dandy. He's not trying to peacock around. It's a very subtle, classy way to look well-dressed without feeling like a misuse of funds or rubbing it in anyone's face.

None of Louis's items of clothing go together, but it's all very practical and it functions, and that's what matters, right?

All of William's clothing goes together because he bought the blandest items possible because he doesn't want to think about himself or have other people think about him. He's busy thinking about Math and Sherlock.

Albert wants to be classy and subtly fashionable without being an ostentatious asshole.

And it all just works really for their personalities, and I just love the attention and care put into things like that to make sure you can really feel and recognize the characters from a glance (like when Miyoshi was discussing the importance of giving William and Sherlock such distinct silhouettes despite being the same size and width).

It's a lot of work, and work well done, so I want to appreciate it all with you.

[justforbooks]

Iris Apfel was finally recognised as a great, original fashion stylist in her 80s, when the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York had a sudden gap in its 2005 exhibition schedule. Many curators knew Apfel, who has died aged 102, as a collector stashing away clothes, especially costume jewellery, both couture-high and street-market-low, so the institute asked to borrow some of her thousands of pieces.

When Apfel wore them herself, dozens at a time in ensembles collaged fresh daily, they had zingy pzazz, so she was invited to set up the displays. There was no publicity budget, and her name was modestly known only in the interior decor trade, yet the show, Rara Avis: Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection, became a huge success after visitors promoted it online. It toured other American museums, changing exhibits en route because Apfel wanted her stuff back so she could wear it.

Apfel’s grandfather had been a master tailor in Russia; her father, Samuel Barrel, supplied mirrors to smart decorators; her chic mother, Sadye (nee Asofsky), had a fashion shop. They lived out in rural Astoria, in the Queens borough of New York, where Iris was born.

As a child, her treat was a weekly subway trip to Manhattan to explore its shops, her favourites the junk emporia of Greenwich Village. She was short, plain and, until her teen years, plump, but she had style; and the owner of a Brooklyn department store picked her out of a crowd to tell her so. During the Depression all her family could sew, drape, glue, paint and otherwise create the look of a room, or a person, on a budget of cents – the best of educations.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women’s Wear Daily. Furniture and fabrics were in short supply during and after the second world war, and Iris began to earn by sourcing antiques and textiles; if she could not find it, she could make or fake it cheaply.

In 1948 she married Carl Apfel, and they became a decorating team: he had the head for business and she the eye. Unable to find cloth appropriate to a period decor, Iris adapted a design from an old piece and had it woven in a friend’s family mill; she and Carl then set up Old World Weavers in 1952, commissioning traditional makers around the globe.

Photographs and home-movie footage from the next four decades showed Apfel, adorned with elan, haggling for one-off items in souks, flea markets and bric-a-brac shops. She is the most decorative sight in each shot, her ensembles put together with complex cadenzas atop an underlying, tailored, structure– they are like jazz – not a statement, but a conversation.

Apfel was the last of those 20th-century fashion exotics who presented themselves as installations. Although she wore a priest’s warm tunic to the White House (President Richard Nixon underheated the place), plus armfuls of cheap African bracelets and thigh-high boots, she was not an exhibitionist like the Marchesa Casati, and, with her vaudevillian comic timing, was far funnier than the imperious Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.

Also, she never ever bought full-price: her many rails and under-the-bed suitcases of couture were sale-price samples, chosen for their cut, fabric, skilled craftwork and colour dazzle (“Colour can raise the dead”). She might wear them over thrift shop pyjamas, or under a Peking Opera costume, with hawsers of necklaces atop. Money could not buy personal style, she said, prettiness withered, beauty could corrode the soul. All that really mattered was “attitude, attitude, attitude”.

Old World Weavers discreetly refurbished the White House under nine presidents, as well as grand hotels and private houses, before the Apfels sold the company in 1992. They retired to a quiet life in their apartment on Park Avenue, New York, its decor an extension of Apfel’s outfits (bad garment choices were cut up for cushions), and in a Palm Beach holiday home where the Christmas decoration collection stayed up all year round, along with cuddly toys and museum-class folk art. Clothes shopping, and the improvisation of an outfit, became Apfel’s daily ritual, as cooking might be to a gourmet.

But after the Met show, and a book, Rare Bird of Fashion (2007), Apfel was back in as much full-time employment as she could manage in her 80s and 90s (she had a hip replacement because she fell after stepping on an Oscar de la Renta gown). She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant – superb on eye-glasses; she wore large, owl-like, frames to stylise her aged face into a witty, unchanging, cartoon.

She took seriously her responsibilities to fashion students on her course at the University of Texas, teaching them about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

Her career lasted – nothing was ever too late: in 2018, Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon, a book of memoir and sound style advice; in 2019, a contract with the model agency IMG; and last year, a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London. The documentarian Albert Maysles trailed her for Iris (2014), filming this “geriatric starlet” – her term – as she dealt drolly with new high-fashion friends, or laughed at an “Iris” Halloween costume (glasses, a ton of bangles).

She watched as a storage loft of her antique treasures was listed in lots for sale, and as white-gloved assistants from museums that had begged a bequest boxed up her garments; she still had, and wore, the shoes from her wedding. All things, she said, were only on loan in this world, even to collectors. The point was to enjoy them to the full before bidding them good-bye.

Carl died in 2015.

🔔 Iris Barrel Apfel, decorator and fashion stylist, born 29 August 1921; died 1 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 6: Smoke and Mirrors

Joel

God, do I want to leave. The music here is so loud I can feel it through my boots. Not to mention there always seems to be a potential threat within the vicinity until I realize that they’re dancing, and not making a move to harm Gwen or her friends.

Despite the moderately-sized group, they are increasingly difficult to find. Where Gwen is normally the easiest woman to spot in a crowd, this one was thick. And it was full of glitter. Even though that dress of her’s was essentially designed to keep my eyes off of her, with it being as short as a shirt, it was shiny enough to catch anyone’s eye in a matter of seconds. Or so I thought, before her and her posse disappeared into the overflowing dance floor. The disco balls above do anything but aid the situation as they create sparkles over every dancing body. I can feel a headache coming on, partly due to the music, but squinting to keep my eyes on her golden locks wasn’t helping.

Our table is elevated a foot or two, so with that and our height difference, I have still caught glimpses of her within the last two hours. Sometimes, she’s looking back at me. Probably hoping that I would have given in and gone home. Not that they would’ve picked this place knowing I hate loud music and large crowds. Gwen would most likely forget my last name if she didn’t have to say it every so often. There’s no way for her to know this is my least favorite type of environment. And I’m afraid if she did, we would be here more and more often.

Looking at Gwen’s smile, however, I’m surprised we haven’t been here in the past week. I’m sure she can turn on the charm and fake it when she has to, but this all seems like authentic, bona fide joy. She spins Harper several times, making strangers wish her a happy birthday, buying rounds of shots and pushing men and women toward her friends, trying to get them all dance partners. Once that mission was accomplished, she seems to move on to finding herself a dance partner as well. A development that only makes my job harder. Several men have approached Gwen in the past hour alone. Beforehand, the interest on her part seemed to be minimal. Now it’s all doe-eyed expressions and wrapping her arms around various men’s necks. That is until they spin her around, making my jaw tighten.

One of these men, a tall, muscular guy with a buzzcut and a shaved eyebrow, has been on top of her for at least thirty minutes. I’m leaning over the edge of the railing of our lounge, trying to get as many identifying markings as I can. Just in case. What I see instead is Gwen nearly bent in half, her skirt just barely covering her—

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Not even the house special?”

The waitress steps in front of my view and I almost curse. She smiles energetically at me, and I feel compelled to return the gesture.

“Uh, no, thank you.”

“You can’t think of anything you’d like?” She steps forward, resting on the other side of the railing.

This must be the fourth or fifth time she’s checked on me. It’s tempting not to admit to this waitress that I’m a security officer. I’m allowed to do so, but I usually think it’s best not to announce that when it’s not already blatantly obvious. I’m not sure if anyone here recognizes Gwen, and having security with you could be a compelling reason to look someone up.

“I’m sober,” I lie, “Thanks though.”

“Well, we have soda, water, anything your heart desires.” She tries again with a smile.

“I’m fine. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, okay,” she looks slightly dejected. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

I feel a pang of guilt, wondering if she was hoping for a tip.

I go back to watching Gwen and her friends for a few minutes, but when I see the waitress come around again, I flag her down and slip a twenty on her tray. She winks at me, and I’m not sure how to respond to that. I settle on a small wave.

When I look up, I scan the crowd again. I see Landon, Aria, Nyah, Harper…Mateo…and…no Gwen.

Maybe she went to the bathroom, but I’d assume at least one of her friends would go with her. Wouldn’t they? Then I look for the burly, handsy man. No sign.

Fuck.

The large room is incredibly dark, only flecks of light being picked up by the disco balls above. It’s possible that Gwen and that stiff Tree Man are just bending down for a moment, and the strobe lights didn’t pick up on it. It’s possible another group is just in the way for a minute. It’s also possible that the guy forced her to leave the club, or dragged her to the back alley…

I’m not taking any chances.

I push through the crowd, spotting Nyah first.

“Miss Abiola,” I call, dodging a grinding couple on my right. Nyah sways to the music in front of me, her eyes closed. “Miss Abiola!” I try again, but all she does is raise her arms above her head.

“Nyah!” I shout, finally getting within a foot of her.

Her eyes shoot open, clearly startled, even with everything going on around her.

“Miss Abiola, I’m sorry, but have you seen Miss Russell?”

Nyah looks confused, before slowly nodding in agreement. Whether it be the alcohol, or the noise, she takes a few moments to respond.

“I thought she was at the bar with Aria.”

I look to my left to see Aria and Mateo chatting to each other above the music. “She’s not. Do you have any idea where she could be?”

Nyah takes her time looking from left to right. She even spins in a very slow, deliberate circle. “Nope. No idea! Maybe she’s at the bar on the other side?” Why would she go to the bar when they paid what was probably an egregious amount of money for bottle service?

I size her up for a minute, and the tiniest of smirks ghosts across her face.

“Miss Abiola, if you know where she is, you need to tell me. It’s a safety matter.”

Her big brown eyes grow innocent, and I know she’s trying to stall. “Call me Nyah. And I’m sure she’s being well taken care of.” I don’t miss the inneduo in her tone. I don’t particularly like it either.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miss Abiola.”

“It’s a party, Mr. Miller,” she mocks my voice, “Try and have some fun!”

This is useless. I spot Landon a few paces away and make my way over to them instead.

“Have you seen Miss Russell?” I won't waste time with the pleasantries now.

“I’m just getting back from the bathroom,” Their face at least, seems honest. “Last I saw she was with a guy.”

“Do you know if they’ve left the club?”

Landon shakes their head. I look to my right, seeing Harper a ways away making out with someone in a fairy costume. Nyah was behind me dancing, and Aria and Mateo were still deep in conversation on the dance floor. That leaves only one person in this group left. I thank Landon, and call Rodney as soon as I make it to the door. He picks up just as I make it outside.

“Rodney, did you take Miss Russell home?”

“No. She texted me asking to make sure her friends make it home safe.”

I grip the phone tighter. “Did you happen to ask how she was getting home?”

Rodney pauses, “No, sir.”

I curse under my breath. “We’ll need to discuss this later. Can you pull up front?”

Rodney arrives less than three minutes later. I have him take me to two of the nearest clubs, wondering if the pair of them would have stumbled into the next available place. But why then wouldn’t Gwen just stay with her friends? What would be the point in going to another club? A nervous feeling in my chest blooms, as I think about the possibility of them going back to his place. She has no idea about the break-in a few months ago. She’s been lulled into a false sense of security by everyone around her, which is probably one of the reasons she sees me as such a nuisance. She’s a beautiful woman in her twenties. In her eyes, why shouldn’t she go home with a random stranger? My heart pounds, and the flashbacks come. Finding her, telling her family, that hollow feeling that it all could have been prevented…

I jog back to the car after quickly checking the inside of another dive bar. Rodney waits for me to name the next place, but I pull out my phone instead. I call Gwen’s number, and it rings and rings and rings. The cheery tone in her voicemail box only fuels my anger. I try calling her two, three, four more times. So her phone isn’t dead, and it hasn’t been turned off. On the sixth try, it rings for a moment, and then I get sent right to voicemail. She had to do that herself. I try calling her again, and the same thing happens, this time after two rings. Yeah, not dead. She just doesn’t want me checking up on her. Or worse, and someone else is declining my calls.

I check my watch, it's already past midnight. There must be hundreds of thousands of bars and nightclubs in Manhattan alone. There’s no way I can check all of them, and there’s no way to know if she’s still out or if she’s gone home with that man.

Gone home with him…

“She allows many visitors into her apartment. Late night guests, I should say. Never does a background check, never worries about being robbed, or worse.”

Arthur’s words ring out in my head. She’s obviously been sick of having me in her space since the moment I arrived. And I have a feeling that she would get a sick little twist out of me looking for her when she was in the most obvious place she could be.

“Take us back to her residence, Rodney.” He replies with no more than a nod.

It’s an agonizing twenty-five minutes with the nightlife traffic. When we park in the garage, I leap out of the car without another word to Rodney. The elevator takes what feels like twice as long as usual to get to me, and three times its normal speed to bring me up to Gwen’s apartment.

Once inside, my chest clenches so hard that I rub it to try to ease some of the tension. The kitchen and living room are dark. It doesn’t look like anyone has been back here yet. I walk toward the back windows, even though I know she won’t be hiding behind one of the couches. I might have been wrong. She might be halfway to Jersey by now, or tied up in the back of somebody’s car. She might be—

There’s a loud clang at the end of the hall.

My fear chills my bones enough to freeze me where I stand, if only momentarily.

Thump.

That one was definitely in the apartment.

I move immediately, striding as fast as I can toward the noise. My feet don’t move nearly as fast as I need them to, each step makes this night feel eerily familiar to the one I’m always trying to forget. But I keep moving toward her room. A room that I now realize has a closed door. I put my hand on the doorknob, and I’m about to turn it when I hear a heavy moan on the other side. I tense up. She could still be in danger. With that notion, I try the door. But it’s locked.

I’ll break it down. I raise my right leg and—

“Oh God, yes.” That is undoubtedly Gwen. And undoubtedly a sigh of pleasure, not pain.

I lurch back from the door, feeling my face heat as I trip over myself and into the other side of the hallway. At least it solves the fact that she is no longer in danger. A weird, almost hopeful, part of me wonders if she could be in there alone. But shortly after, a string of loud, masculine grunts sounds through the door in tandem.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to hone in the anger that threatens to escape. I’m angry at Gwen for running out without telling me, angry at Rodney for not calling me as soon as she texted him, and I’m also angry at Gwen for taking this guy back to her place. I guess I’m glad she’s not in some random man’s home, but she doesn’t even know him. He can still be crazy even if they’re not at his residence.

And fuck, I’m angry at that protein-infused man in there, too. I’m not exactly sure why, but I don’t care.

I’m still standing in between our two rooms, the anger and relief in my chest conflicting with each other and leaving me stunned.

“Harder,” Gwen cries out.

That’s it. I can’t—I can’t take this. I can’t barge down the door. She is technically allowed to do what she’s doing. But I can’t listen to it any longer. I can’t leave, as I’m still supposed to remain in the same building with her at all times. And I also want to make sure he doesn’t steal anything or do anything harmful once they’ve… finished. I grimace to myself. No, no, once they’re done. Not once they’re finished. Christ, I need to get out of this hallway.

I haul myself into my room, closing the door as quietly as my temper will allow. I don’t want to fuel Gwen’s ego by giving her the satisfaction of a slammed door.

It takes me a minute to find the headphones I brought with me. They aren’t noise canceling, but they’re the best I’ve got right now. I blast the first song that I can find, and text Rodney. I tell him Gwen is here, and to bring the car back to the club to take her friends home. Then I pull out my laptop and email Angus. If Guinevere wants to play games, I might as well contribute to the playbook.

Even with the music blaring far louder than I would normally allow, I can’t miss the conclusion of Gwen and muscle-man’s escapades. The man lets out a cringe-worthy whoop!

And then…nothing.

No noise from Gwen. I end up smirking.

He didn’t look like the type who could satisfy her.

My eyes grow wide. Or any woman! I hurry to finish the thought. Not just Gwen. He just looked like the type who couldn’t satisfy any woman. I shake my head, turning up the music until my eardrums ache. I remind myself repeatedly that I’ve already made it two weeks. If I can get through that a few more times, I can get out.

As I wait another twenty minutes for the man to leave, I have to physically shake my head to avoid thinking of how Gwen might look right now. Cheeks flushed, eyes sleepy. Or based on what I heard, maybe none of that is true. Maybe she’s frustrated, laying there waiting for him to leave so she can help herself—

My anger grows like wildfire, knowing this is exactly what she would want. She wants me to feel uncomfortable, unwelcome. And these thoughts are certainly unwelcome. And completely inexcusable at that. She’s my client. She deserves some basic respect, not me sitting here wondering if tonight was as pleasurable for her as it was for that man. I don’t want that anymore than I want the bizarre, envious stir in my stomach.

At the thirty minute mark, I hear Gwen’s door open, close, and one pair of heavy feet make their way to the elevator. I take a long, exhausted breath, leaning back on my elbows when I hear the elevator doors shut.

Just a few more weeks. A few more weeks of this nonsense. This blue-eyed, witty, confusing nonsense. And then I’m gone.

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

Masterlist

[the-empress-7]

I know this might be an unpopular opinion and a bit off topic but it has been bugging me for a while.

Remember the rumor about Diana allegedly hating and bullying Sophie because she believed Sophie had been copying her (see link below)? Not that I approve of Diana's meanness but I think there is truth about the copying, down to the hairstyle.

Now I think it's Kate that she's copying, and I've observed this for years now. Once Kate starts a trend in royal fashion, she would follow suit. From wearing boots with dresses, to espadrilles, hats, blazers and pant suits, dress styles, and the latest which is the lotus tiara. There is something about Sophie that just doesn't sit well with me. From that scandal with the fake sheik, to that time where she was caught chastising her RPO, or that time she was telling off Charlotte. See links below.

Am I wrong? I'd really like to hear yours and others' opinion on this. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/EN39ujH3Q5Y

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1380021/Royal-Wedding-2011-Countess-Wessex-wearing-Bruce-Oldfield.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yF-GwiLn59M

Hi anon, the Royal ladies tend to wear similar items from the same designers quite frequently. In fact when Catherine debuts a new designer or a specific new silhouette, it's not unusual to see many royal women wearing similar dresses.

When did Sophie tells off Charlotte? I know about the RPO and the sheikh incident, the latter is how the BRF learned their lesson on why part time royals doesn't work as a model when you are a public servant.

[silent-raven13]

Build-A-Hobie?

Billie gawks at the store in front of her wearing her puffy jacket. "WOOW!" Her eyes sparkles at one of her favorite stores.

"Build-A-Bear?" Hobie read the store's name with a questioning tone. He wore a long black thick winter coat with his band shirt, plaided pants and boots all topped with accessories for his style.

Miles wore his own yellow puffer jacket with a scarf and beanie to keep from the cold. This winter there's been so many snow that there was so many blizzards, he can say this season has been cold than the last. He wanted to take his little sister to get a toy. "It's a shop where you make your own teddy bear." He took his boyfriend's hand pulling him into the shop while Billie runs inside with joy.

"Miles, I want this one!" She happily points at one colorful teddy bear with a dream like pastel tie dye design. "This one is gonna be me!" Happy to have her own collection at home.

Miles smiles, "Alright!" He gave her a small high five, "Your gonna give her a cute tutu?"

"Yeah and a princess crown because she's a princess like me." Billie happily said.

Miles giggles for the moment before turning to his boyfriend, he blinks at the way his boyfriend stare at the new limited edition set. "Luv?"

"Hmph?" He hums with a small smile on his face. "Yeah, bae?"

Hobie squints at the set, "What are these?" He points the limited edition set pointing out a specific Spider-man.

Miles giggles, "You mean, the Spider-men set?" It's a whole set of all the Spider-men and Spider-women that appeared in his world. So far, Miguel's, Pavitr, Gwen's, Peter's, his Peter (1610), Ben's, Peni's, Margo's, Noir's, Jess' and his own are all on there. Especially a specific Spider-punk being front in certain. "Or you mean Spider-Punk?" His honey-brown eyes on the Build-A-Bear teddy bear design as a Spider-Punk with it's punk outfit and fake guitar.

"Yeah, why? How?"

"You guys come here pretty often, so it's no surprise people see you guys and starts liking ya'll. I think Gwen has a big fanbases from the LGBT Plus community. I think a lot of single girls have a thing for Miguel... hmmm Oh Pavitr and you got a massive fanbase for being so different." Miles points out.

"So they are monopolizing me?" Hobie holds the Spider-Punk Teddy Bear seeing the price, it's thirty four American Dollars. "Thirty four dollars for a Spider Punk?"

"You should see these fun figures called Funko Pops. You're basically famous." His Sunflower giggles.

"Meaning?" Hobie trails off.

His boyfriend giggles, "Companies creating merchandising for their own pocket."

"Damn you capitalism!" Hobie said being dramatic as he fall to his knees in the middle of the store. Many people around them turn their heads being freaked out by the random outburst.

One of the retail worker came by to ask if there was something wrong, Miles quickly said, "No, no. He's just being dramatic. He's a huge fan of Spider-man."

"Oh, well I do recommend him getting Spider-punk or the Spider-man that look like panther since those sell out way too fast. And OG Spider-man had been restocked, too. But I noticed the Spider-man with the Jordans, what do we call him? Oh, Tony what do we call this Spider-man?" She holds the black and red Spider-man with the Jordans teddy bear.

"I think Spin or Newbie." Tony, a retail worker giving a shrug as he restock some more teddy bears fabric.

"Yeah, a lot of children been buying him off. " The female retail said, "I think when he came out as Puerto Rican, a lot of Latinos love him."

"Yup!" Tony hums in agreement.

Miles being giddy about his own Spider-man being popular, "Billie, did you hear? They love this Spider-man, too." He holds the Spider-man with Jordans.

Little Billie' eyes gleam at her brother's Spider-man, then took it. "Mmm." She hugs it. Then pulls away seeing the two to pick. "Ummm, mmm. Dis one or dis one?" She wanted to get her brother as Spider-man but she wants of her to complete her family collection. Decisions, decisions!

Miles got to her level, "Awe, boo-boo. How about you get yours? Next time, we'll get Spider-man next time."

"Awe," She nodded.

"I promise, we'll get him next time."

"Okay!" She happily jumps as her brother took the store's teddy bear display before helping her get her own teddy bear fabric.

"Bae, are you done cursing at Capitalism, yet? Because you still need to pick one?" Miles asked.

The punker frowns looking at his Sunflower's Spider-man then the Spider-Punk looks tempted." He huffs taking his Sunflower's Spider-man, "Yeah, I got mine."

"Awe, you're not gonna get Spider-Punk." Miles giggles.

"Luv, you know I rather pick him over that guy," Hobie rolled his Spider-man's name. He never understood why they called his Spider-punk. "Labels are always ruining it."

"Oh yeah?" Miles took his own teddy bear showing a fully stuffed Spider-Punk, "Even if I pick him?" Shyly showing a small smile on his face.

Hobie felt his heart throbbing by such cuteness, "You pick me."

"Mmhmm." His boyfriend happily hug the teddy bear, "He's my bae after all."

His punker leans over to kiss him on the cheek, "Your too cute, Sunflower."

Billie calls them over so she can get her Teddy bear filled with heart, and items for it. Miles happily went over to help and taught his boyfriend how to do it. "Here, you give them a cute heart. Make a wish bae for the bear." He hums at his punker.

Hobie took the small heart then give a kiss, "My heart for my Sunflower." He happily said making Miles flustered as he put the heart inside the bear.

Billie holds her teddy bear as she looks at the cute clothes, "Hmm..."

Miles squat to her level, "You want her to have a pretty dress or a ballerina? Or-Or that cute Strawberry dress?" He pointed at the dresses.

Billie took moment until her eyes lit up finding the perfect outfit for her teddy bear, "That one!" She pointed.

Her brother looks up seeing a cute jean overall with one strap undone, OG Air 1 Jordans and a black shirt with Miles' Spider-man logo. "Awe, boo-boo. You want Spider-man?"

"Huh uh!" Billie happily giggles as her big brother looked so touched by her being his number one fan. "My number one hero!"

"Awwweee, I love you, too." Miles happily hugs and nuzzle his little sister, she's so adorable.

"Hehe!" Billie leans over at Hobie giving a smug grin.

Hobie eyed her, "Alright, bet." He went over to give a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek, "Suuu-uunn-floo-wweer!" He happily sang with his own Miles' Spider-man teddy bear wearing a cute punker shirt of Spider-punk with a hoodie, and jeans with some Jordans. "Lookie."

"Awe, he's adorable, bae!" His boyfriend look flustered at his own Spider-man teddy bear design by his man, "I like the shirt."

"I know, it's Spider-punk." He leans in to give him another kiss on the cheek. "Should he have a happily charming mischievous boyfriend?" He holds the Spider-man in from of his Sunflower waiting for his answer.

"Maybe, but this punker," Miles holds Spider-Punker teddy bear in a full punker jeans, boots, guitar and shirt of Miles' Spider-man logo, "prefers to be known an Anarchist." He playfully let his Spider-punk Teddy bear tap its nose against Hobie's teddy bear, "Mwah!"

"I love how you know me so well." Hobie's heart flutter.

"Hehehe." His Sunflower giggles with his teeth showing off.

Billie happily got her new Teddy bear in her new outfit, "She's boot-tee-full!"

"Yeah, she is. Are you excited to play with her at home, boo-boo." Her big brother asked after they walk out of the store with their new teddy bears.

"YUS! I'ma put it next to mommy and daddy." Billie happily smiles.

Hobie chuckles when they walk out of the mall snow started to fall. "Opp, careful, luvs. You catch a death of cold." He fixes his Sunflower's scarf making sure it covers part of his face. "I'll carry the lass."

"Are you sure?" Miles asked.

"Yeah, the least I can do." The punker picks up Billie so she doesn't need to walk through the slippery parts of the sidewalks.

When they arrived at the Morales' home, Billie happily ran inside kicking her snow boots off. She took her teddy bear out of the plastic bag to go into her room to set her new friend in her new collection.

The other two met the Morales' home being covered with Christmas decorations, and having a Christmas tree in the living room. Rio came out of the kitchen wiping her hands with a damp kitchen towel. "You guys, are home? I saw Billie running by without a hi to me."

"She got a new Teddy bear." Miles took off his coat to put on the hook on the wall.

"Ahh, she must be introducing her new toy to her other Teddy bears." Rio giggles finding it cute, then she saw Miles holding a bag, "You bought one, too."

"Heh, maybe." Miles hums as he took his boyfriend's hand to show him Billie's collection. "Come, bae."

"Hola, mamí Morales." Hobie greeted Rio.

"Hola, Hobie. How was Build-A-Bear?" She saw him carrying a bag, too.

"Fun. I thought it was a bit cheeky marketing off me and Sunflower!" Hobie began.

Rio laughs being amused, "Well, that's what happens when companies want to be greedy!"

Hobie groans, "Terrible, innit?" Before being dragged to check on Billie.

When he went into Billie's room, its a small pink room with butterflies and glow in the dark stars stickers. The room shows toys on the floor, a dresser, closet, bed, everything a five year old needs and wants. Billie stood by a small desk where her Teddy Bears are side by side like a family. She gently strokes the top of her new Teddy bear's head before fixing the overall, "There. Now, you are Billie Bear! You get to meet Daddy Bear and Mommy Bear, they are your parents!" She puts them all together being so happy.

Miles smiles at the way his sister just sat and watch the teddy bears being together. "Awe, are they happy, boo-boo?"

"Huh uh! Daddy Bear and Mommy Bear are so happy to have Billie Bear!" Billie said, "Umm... but-but I hope I can get big brother Bear soon!" She tap her fingers together wanting her big brother to be part of her collection.

"Awe, we can wait for a little bit." Miles snuggles her, "For right now, we can pretend he's Spider-man!"

"But they are sad because he's not home yet." Billie pouts.

Hobie leans at the doorway as he watches the three bears looking a bit bum. Did he see that right? So he dug into his white plastic bag.

Billie and Miles look at the stuffed bears with a warm smile until Hobie put his Teddy Bear in front of Billie, "Here, lass."

"For me?" Billie asked being confused, she took the Teddy bear dressed in her brother's Spider-man suit.

Miles looked up, "Really?"

"Yeah, lil Blu needed a Miles Bear, right? Besides, where will I put mine?" Hobie asked his boyfriend, "Sunflower, I know you only took me to enjoy the process of making the toy and living my childhood. I love every minute of it, but my teddy will get awfully lonely. Don't you think?"

His Sunflower nodded with a small smile on his face, "Right, bae." He leans over to Billie, "Mira, Boo-boo. Hobie gave you a Miles Bear. Do you accept him into your collection?"

"Huh uh!" The five year old girl got up to hug Hobie, "Gracias, Hobie. I luv it!"

"Awe, lass. You're welcome." Hobie hugs her back before letting her go.

"Miles Bear, welcome home!" She tightly hugs her new gift before placing it next to family of bears. "Now, I need an Obie bear!" She looks at her big brother.

Hobie felt touched. Miles giggles, "I see. Of course, he can live here, Boo-boo." He went into his own plastic bag to give Billie his Spider-punk Teddy bear.

She happily hugs the bear and her brother, "Thank you! Because Obie bear will get sad without Miles Bear!"

"That is so true. Hobie Bear is clingy like my Hobie." Miles casually said.

"Sunflower, all have you know I am the most clingiest out of all the Hobies." His punker huffs.

Billies places the Spider-punk bear next to Miles bear. Now the Morales Bear Family is finally completed. "It's boo-teee-full! They look so happy!" She went to Hobie as he picked her up.

The three look at the family of bears seeing a warm ambiance, like they are seeing those Teddy bears smiled. They are complete and filled with love being together.

"Awe, look at that." Rio walks in seeing the complete collection, "They look so happy."

Jeff follows in wanting to see his daughter's collection, "Is it me or are they smiling?"

"They are, papá! They are!" Billie giggles.

"You think there's a universe of us being toy bears?" Miles quietly asked his boyfriend.

"I like to think so." His punker said, "Another us, being happily together." That made his Sunflower smile even wider.

"Yeah, so very happy." Miles lay his head on his boyfriend shoulder. "I love you, Hobie."

"Me too, Sunflower."

Billie bud in, "Me three! I love Miles! And I luv Obie!"

"Awe!" Miles kisses Billie's right cheek while Hobie kisses her left cheek. "We love you, too!" This made the little girl giggling with joy.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Demon Bride Ch12 In Wait Of A Doctor

(DISCLAIMERS AND IMPORTANT INFO!!!: EVERYONE in this story is in their early 20s-30s! This story will contain mentions of past abuse and death! I'll be keeping it as SFW. Some backstories have been slightly altered for this particular story, and some characters cannonically dead or harmed is alive and well. I own nothing.

Credit to @flanelltees​ for the designs I based the demons off to look more demon-like with tails and pointed ears.

This story will be sfw, but there will be some blood, implied death, fighting, some gore mentioned, and a few other things that will be made aware by warnings. Pay attention to warnings at the top of any chapters just under the summery please.)

Once in the mountain villages it was a custom that once a year on the night of the new year's first moon, an unlucky young lady would be selected and left for the demons to become one of the unlucky few who married such a husband. In exchange for this offering the demons would protect the villages and leave the humans in peace. Until one day a powerful warrior drove the demons away freeing the humans of them. Now 2,000 years later, it's become a tradition that once a year, a new young lady would be picked and wait for her future husband to retrieve her from a shrine in the mountains. And now the lucky tradition would fall upon Y/n L/n. It would be her own turn to take on the tradition and not have to worry about demons. After all that part of the old tradition was just fake, made up by paranoid ancestors. Everyone knew demons didn't exist.

...Right

(WARNINGS!!!: none in this chapter. )  

First Part Here:

Last Part Here: https://www.tumblr.com/hazbinextgeneration/716769330504876033/demon-bride-ch11-interluding?source=share

Next Part Here:

It had now been almost five days since you last ended up in this strange place. Every time you woke up after sleeping, you were still expecting to wake up back in your old home on top of your sorry excuse for a futon and be still in poverty and deep debt having the threat of Sanemi down your back. Or you were expecting to wake up on the side of the roads traveling on your way around the mountains to whatever life laid ahead of you. But no. Neither of those two scenarios happened. You were usually woken up by Eri with a smile and something in her hands for breakfast, then it'd be the same. You'd just sit there on the chair in the mostly empty room, with your leg dunked in the cold well water to cease any swelling that was there, which was mostly gone by now, with Eri for company who'd talk to you, fetch you food, or replace the water whenever it got too warm. You barely felt your leg at this point, and sitting still without moving for days on end was starting to give you cabin fever. But you couldn't move. ...It was funny however.

Your ankle didn't hurt nearly as much as it did a few days ago. 

It still hurt and there was throbs of pain if you hit your leg or accidentally moved it too suddenly, so there was obviously still something wrong with it. But you'd have to wait at least another two days or so for this doctor to show up. Hopefully it wasn't anything serious and you'd be able to leave at the end of January when this whole thing was over with! But life moved on. Once and a while Eri would help you get to the women's bath and gift you another spare kimono to wear, and things were starting to look up a bit. You got your boots back! After inquiring about them, Eri left only to return with them later. You decided not question it and only took them with a thanks to her. Even if you couldn't wear them yet, you'd certainly be needing them when you leave. You did not see this 'Kaigaku' for the last three days however, and you asked Eri about it. She only shrugged and replied casually-

"He stayed for a day or two and left yesterday morning to continue on his duties. Count yourself lucky. From what I've heard, he wanted to take you somewhere and even I despite my lack of human medical knowledge, can tell you're not fit for travel. He seemed to have change his mind however after Lord Kyogai spoke to him."

"Really?" She nodded and you hummed. Kyogai calmed him down about that idea huh? Guess you'd have to thank him later for that. "How were the two of them anyways? Any injuries?"

She shook her head no much to your relief. "None at all. Lord Kaigaku had none and Lord Kyogai's fully healed by now. You shouldn't worry yourself about them. They're much stronger than the both of us combined, and they both have important jobs to take care of for our Master."

Your interest was peeked and you looked to her again. "Hey. What exactly do they do that's so important anyways?"

Eri paused in her movements, blinking all four of her eyes at you for a good moment seemingly confused at the question, before realization came over her and she perked up. "Oh! That's right. I forget you're not from here, so you'd have no idea what the lords would do at all." Duh! Glad she was on the same pace at least. "You might've already noticed, but Lord Kyogai's the Record Keeper!"

Your brow rose higher at the demon. "Record Keeper? What's that?"

"He's in charge of anything and everything going on that's important enough to write down or whatever the Master tells him to. He keeps records of everything and anything really now that I think about it," she mumbled scratching her head with one hand and raising a brow, "Business contracts, criminal records, new laws, and books on all kinds of information. But I think he mostly works with certificates. You know. Like life and death, and marriage and all that." She shrugged. "That's why he's usually in one of his studies. He has lots to keep track of."

Wow. That sounded like a stressful job. Is that why you hadn't seen him for a few days? Was he that busy? You hadn't considered he had this big of a role, but then again you were just a stranger here. Just a bystander that wouldn't be here for much longer because after you were all healed you were leaving and never coming back. 

"Then what does Kaigaku do?"

"He patrols the Eastern Borders of the forest. His job is to keep anyone from crossing one way or another unless they're an offering or if the Master says otherwise. He's also in charge of breaking up any unnecessary fights that go on during this time."

"Well it doesn't seem like that matters when things like this still happen," you deadpanned gesturing to your leg.

"Oh no. You've got it all wrong! Before the Master assigned people to break up fights there used to be many more deaths, and many more hostile marriages. It affected our kind's population negatively for years. Now that the Master's set down stricter laws, it's spared a lot more lives. Although things are far from perfect. I'm afraid old habits die hard."

"Are the men of your world that desperate to get married?"

"Actually, being married brings you higher respect?"

You blanked. Looking at her like she suddenly sprouted a third pair of arms. ".....What!?"

Eri nodded. "It's complicated for humans to understand because your customs are different from ours. Believe it or not, it's actually very difficult to get married for a man unless your family arranges it for you or a woman accepts your courtships. Like I did with my fiancé!" She said proudly with a smile. "That's also the reason for why many of the males become desperate enough to resort to kidnapping and where people like Lord Akaza comes in."

"How does that equal up to 'respect'?"

"Well it does in a lot of ways. If you're married, that not only shows you're competent enough to be trusted in a relationship, but it also means you'll be trusted enough to be let in the woman's family, affairs, any wealth or status she may have, and you're family will see you as more responsible as well as able since you'd be able to successfully continue on the family line. Of course, there's always the possibility the woman will reject you but that's a risk many take."...Eri hummed. "Now that I think about it...The only Lord that I've ever known to be married was Lord Hantengu since he has five sons."

"I-....Well I guess that makes sense. But then how does that explain what happened to me?"

"Well you are a human bride-"

"NO! I was NOT!!" Eri blinked and leaned away at your sudden outburst and scowl, which made yourself pause and clear your throat. "*ahem* I mean-...I wasn't ever a sacrificial bride. I just..got lost on my way up the mountain at the wrong time. Simple as that."

Eri continued to stare at you for a long moment before raising a brow and humming like she didn't believe you. "Uh huh...Well in any case. Human brides are seen as an arranged marriage of sorts." She explained making you blink at her again. 

"They're what?"

"They're a form of arranged marriage, that's why they're an exception to the rules,'' she explained further holding up a finger, "You see back then it was arranged that human brides would be gifted to demon men by their families in exchange for land, the right to live on our land, and the rights that come with it, so they're considered arranged marriages. But the problem is that they were never arranged with any specific man so they were open for anyone to accept the arrangement. They're the one exception to the Master's laws since...Again." She shrugged. "The humans never made any agreements for who they would marry so it was all up in the air. Now a days it's a bit of a taboo topic really. Human wives are seen as more of a luxury for the nobility and wealthier families because of the special abilities the family can carry on in later generations."

"Like..what?"

"Demons with at least one human ancestor has benefits from both parents, but most don't prefer it. Humans aren't exactly the most understanding."....You rose a brow deadpanned at her. "Oh. But not you. You're different!" She smiled. "And I must say for my first time meeting a human, you're very nice!"

"Thank you?...I think."

"Your welcome!," she cheerfully exclaimed before motioning to the bucket your leg had been stuck in for the last few days, "Now if you would please hold still. I need to replace the water."

Day six of your rather small stay came around and it was still the same song and dance as the last few days had brought although you did get one small surprise. You were just sitting there, Eri had come in with the usual cold bucket of water in one pair of arms and with the other pair helped to hoist you up into the same chair and carefully your leg was placed back into the cold water where you knew it would go numb and lose feeling after a little while.

"How are you feeling today?," Eri asked you as she leaned up from the bucket with a smile, "Any pain or discomfort?"

"Other than my leg being really cold?" You shook your head. "No. Not really..Come to think of it." You rose a brow giving your leg a curious look. "It's not hurting a lot anymore. It still stings and it hurts if I bump it, but it doesn't feel as painful as it did a few days ago."

"That's wonderful!," she cheered with a clap of her hands, "That must mean the medical tea is working! It seems your ankle's not swollen anymore either. Which is good but we should keep up the routine since it seems to be affective so far." Eri nodded to herself. "Yes, it'd be best since I don't know anything else that could help."

You nodded. That'd probably be best, as annoying as the cold was, since you didn't really know much medical practice either. The bitter medical tea they've been making you drink with your meals was prescribed by this mysterious 'Doctor' and it tasted like sour salt, but they insisted that you down it when they gave it to you because it was supposedly supposed to help relieve any pain you may have had....Huh. Maybe that was why you hadn't been feeling much pain in your leg lately? Speaking of food, you were hungry having just woken up today. Maybe you should ask Eri to grab you something from the kitchen? As if the world was reading your mind, a small knock came from the sliding door making both you and Eri turn your heads to it. Before either of you had a chance to say anything like 'Who is it?' or 'Come in!', the door went ahead and slid open and on the other side stood someone with purple skin and cinnamon brown hair. The newcomer smiled at the both of you with a tray of food in her hands.

"Good morning to you! I got you some food to keep up your strength!"

You instantly smiled. "Nagi!"

The other lady demon you had met before smiled at you both from the sliding doorway before she stepped in and you had the scent of fried vegetables hit your nose from what food she brought you. ...Although you still don't know how she was able to see without any eyes. She stopped just beside you both, although you didn't notice the large-ish square thing under one of her arms.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was assigned to bring you some food, but I cannot stay for long. I have other duties to attend to." She then held out the tray to you, to which you took from her. "But I have heard from Eri you are doing well. I'm glad your recovery is going along so graciously." You stared at the small tray in your hands. A simple dish of fried vegetables, and of course more of that bitter tea. Yuck! A simple dish but you were grateful for it all the same. She then turned to Eri and produced something that looked like a darkly tinted bottle from her dress sleeves. "Also the yearly supply just arrived from the Master. Here's your bottle of hu-"

"SHUSH!!!"

A small slap sound was heard. You jumped. Dropping the tray in your startle. Thankfully it didn't fall on the floor, and instead hit your lap, although some of the bitter tea spilt from the cup and over the vegetables and tray making a small but contained mess. Your head turned to where the sounds came from and paused seeing a strange sight. Both women were staring at you (or the closest thing Nagi had to 'staring' without having any eyes, her head was facing your way), and Eri looked like she had been caught in the middle of doing something she shouldn't, and one of her many hands was slapped right over Nagi's mouth. 

Silence.

Awkward silence.

....Eri slowly retracted her hand from Nagi's mouth before snapping a scowl at the poor woman who looked as confused as you did. "Thank you, Nagi." Eri's tone made you blink more. It came out in a forced hiss to match her frown, and a hand of hers snatched up the small bottle from Nagi's rather bluntly. "I really needed this medicine." Her voice hiss that last bit harder, as if to emphasize it to Nagi. "This medicine was missing from my kit. Thank you for delivering it to me." You didn't see it as she was facing away from you, but her top pairs of eyes motioned in your direction as you still stared at them.

"....Oh...OH!" A flash of realization came over Nagi. "O-Oh! Yes! Y-You're medicine! That you wanted. Of course." She cleared her throat as your brow rose. "*ahem* Anyways-....I'm glad that's been solved." 

Your eyes turned to Eri who fumbled with the small bottle until it disappeared within the folds of her kimono rather quickly. ...What was that all about? Some kind of secret medicine of demons you weren't supposed to know about? Nagi must've noticed the way your f/c eyes stared at Eri because she coughed catching your attention back onto herself.

"Well I must be going, but before I do I brought a gift that might interest Miss Y/n!" A gift? What gift? Nagi reached over to her arm and you just now noticed the square object she had. What was that? The object was maneuvered into her hands and held up by her hands to reveal it to be a....Book? "I found this wedged under a shelf while cleaning one of the studies. I thought maybe you would like to read it during your stay here. It is must be stuffy sitting in the same place all the time."

You stared at it. Oh! A Book! You'd seen these before in the small library your village had (or the closest thing to one your small community had), but they had always been small and didn't have very many pages. Mostly because paper was costly where you lived. This one however was quite large and it looked about as thick as a standard brick with many pages visible to the eye all snuggly fitted in the middle of a bark black cover. You'd never seen one like this before. 

Eri rose a brow also seeming surprised by what Nagi produced. "Isn't that one of Lord Kyogai's notebooks?"

"That's what I thought at first, but when I flipped through it there wasn't any notes or anything important. It seems to be a story book. When I asked around, no one claimed it so I thought maybe Miss Y/n could find some entertainment in it."

"Story book?"

She nodded and held it out to you. "I have no need for such things." Wait...How was she able to read it without any eyes?? "But I heard humans like to read these!"

"...I..Haven't read many of them before." You slowly reached over and took it from Nagi, the black leather cover feeling cool and smooth in your hands, the book about as heavy as a typical chicken...You smiled. "But it seems like a good way to pass the time until something more important happens." You looked back to her. "Thank you so much!"

She nodded her head, but turned. "I'd hate to cut this reunion short, but I must get back to work lest I get in trouble with my Lord."

"I understand. Again thank you for both the food, and the entertainment." 

Nagi left soon after and you were left with the book. Out of pure curiosity, you opened the cover to the first page with Eri looking over your shoulder probably wondering what this was all about as well..You debated asking her about the mysterious bottle Nagi handed her, but decided against it. It wasn't any of your business, and you'd be leaving soon anyways so even if you did know, it wouldn't matter in the long run. So why bring it up? The first page had some big and bold letters on the top, maybe the name of the story?

"'Tale of Fate?''', you said questioning. Huh. You never heard anything like this before. Must be a story from outside your village-

"You can read that?"

Eri's voice so close to you made you jump and turn to Eri to blink. "Um...Yes? Can't you?" It was printed pretty big and as clear as day.

She shook her head no. "I can speak human language, but I don't understand your written language. Not every one of my kind can."

Huh. Well that explained a bit. "I see...Would you like me to read it to you?"

All four of her eyes widened to the size of plates gawking at you. "Really!? You would do that!?"

"I mean..Sure. I don't see why not. It'd be the least I could do after all you've done for me- ACK!!"

A strong, excited shake to your shoulder almost made you fall off the chair and toss the food tray from your lap. "Yes! I'd love that! Wow! I've never known someone who's gotten literature translated to them before. My family is going to be so jealous when they find out!"

Despite the awkward start to the day, you couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm finding it amusing. "Alright. Alright. Just calm down before you squeeze my arm off. Should I begin now?"

"Yes please!"

Eri's antics reminded you faintly of a child excited to be told a story. "Alright. Just give me a moment to." F/c eyes switched from the excited demon by your side to the beginning of the page right under the bold, bigger letters. And read across the first few sentences.

Down in the world unknown there laid a kingdom drab and dark. Where darkness and shadows collided and lived in fear and power. One would be mad to even think about stepping in a place like this. Where the dead are gone but still there, the shadows played and roamed and full of terror. A frightful place brace heros dare not venture unless they wish to meet a tragic fate. Yes. This one place was alone ruled by a power hungry spirit, spited by his love in life and now seeks vengeance on any mortal who dared be foolish enough to be beckoned into his awaiting claws.

The creature of vengeance was known as one of promises and dealings. Whether If one were to want something most dear to their heart and was determined and pure, or if their heart was filled with greed, envy, and lust he would grant your reply if you were brave or stupid enough to find him. It was when one day a child from a nearby village heard of this rumor that they were excited to find out if it was true or not. Against their parents and everyone else's wishes and warnings, the small child had snuck out to venture into the forbidden dark woods. The brambles scraped and left cuts on their body, the creatures chased after and threatened to eat them if they didn't turn back now, for darker and more sinister things slept in these woods, but bravely the child went on. On and on on their journey to really see this sinister ghost who granted wishes and promises that the mortal eye would repulse to believe. Until the sinister avenger had been found and the massive shadow beckoned the child closer with a boney rigged hand.

"You have traveled far and withstood the tests my forces forwarded. For that you have earned the right to one miracle granted to you. But a warning you have also earned. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Think well, dear child."

The small child dared to smile at the creature and simply reply, "I have no need for any treasures or anything of preciousness near me. I solely only wished for to see myself if the avenger of shadows was a true sight. And now that I have seen you for what a true being you are, I will simply be leaving satisfied my wish was fulfilled."

The answer of the child amused the ancient spirit and he chuckled his hollow laugh at the very notion of it all.

"Wise answer to an otherwise difficult mortal choice. For that you shall still be granted a prize for your efforts. Name one and answer wisely."

The small child as said had no need for such items like treasure and fortune, but they knew that the child's hard working mother were in need of some fortune in her life. So with a kind heart, the child looked to the spirit and asked for their miracle. "My mother works oh so hard to take care of me. It would be so nice for her to have just a little more luck on her side. Oh spirit, let me repay her for all her kindness she has shown me."

"Your wish shall be granted. A selfless act is always it's own reward, but be wary of those who wish to use those fortunes to their own will."

The child was permitted a safe leave back to their home and as promised their selfless act of kindness was granted by the spirit of shadows. The child and their mother mysteriously found an old box in their pantry one day that they had never known of before and upon opening it discovered many, many priceless jewels. The likes of which they had never seen before. With this new found fortune, the mother and child were able to gain a plentiful farm with all the necessities they needed to have a plentiful life. Farther down in the years the mother even remarried one of the strongest most handsome men in the small village. But this man was nothing but green with want, and treated the mother and her child terribly.

He was lazy, rude, and had a heart full of greed. Seeping of those who had better and helping him in life. But one fateful day everything changed. For one day he asked the child's mother a question.

"My dear wife. You know I love you dearly, but I must ask you. Where did you receive such wealth and fortune."

"Why, from a old wooden box in the pantry," she replied happily, "And inside the little wooden chest was gems and riches beyond our wildest dreams."

"Yes, yes! But where did it come from?"

"I know not how it got there or where it came from, but my child and I are oh so happy to have received such a delightful fortune. How we may live happily for a long while."

Her husband was displeased with such an answer and once again asked but this time to the child. The child happily told the man his venture into the woods and his encounter with the spirit of shadows, filling the man's heart with more greed. That very night when the family slept, the man snuck out and made his own way into the deep woods of shadows and fears. Brambles cut his clothing, he cursed those who dare chase him and snap at his hinds as he ran, but the greed and lust in his heart was strong. So strong he persisted his heart green with envy. Alas finally he arrived and looking as though some creature had mangled him with their claws. The spirit was beckoning him closer with a bony rigged hand and spoke.

"Oh one who's heart is sewn with greed and plight. You have sought me through danger and fright. Your actions of greed are inexcusable but like many before you have made it through the path of darkness. For that you have earned the right to one miracle, but also a warning. Be warned, with a pure and honest heart comes great rewards. With a heart who bleeds nothing but black with greed and jealousy, a foul end you shall meet. Think about the consequences greatly, for the repercussions shall be swift and tight. Oh one who comes to me with a black heart for his own wishes. I offer this to you so you may choose your wish wisely."

The man paid no attention to the wise words of the ghost nor did he think about any real consequences for his actions as he spoke what he oh so desired.

"Give me more riches than any man shall have!! Make my fortune one who will make me a fortunate man!! A bright castle and beautiful jewels is what I seek and most desire!!"

"A answer I foresaw and one your shall have for not heeding my warnings. Oh man of greed and selfishness, you shall indeed have your wish awaiting you home. But do not be surprised when your unfortunate fate you shall unevitably meet. Now be gone creature of greed. My domain is not fit for one of you."

The man left for his home and once his got there his had his miracle in the form of the purest black horse with a magnificent couch of ebony, inside the couch was boxes and jewels of every imagining. The man cared not for his wife or the young child that he had left behind, away in this marvelous new couch he received and off that horrid man went into the night with his shouts of greedy glee and pleasure as his family long forgotten. The mother and child awoken to no greedy man plaguing their lives and while the mother was quite saddened, she still had the child to watch after. As luck and fortune does benefit those with kind hearts, another man the mother sought and a kinder gentler man she got. With as much kindness to her and her child this man gave to combat the sorrows left behind by the other greed filled one. One day a message they did receive, about a much bigger estate of land and riches. The greedy man who had once left them behind without a second thought, was now no more as the spirits warnings he did not heed. As fate had decided he would be no more, a swift and tight end he did get. Leaving everything he valued behind of jewels and gold, to no man but a woman he did not care for. His wife and next of kin did receive, fame and fortune for kindness indeed. With kindness in their hearts the family did grow, and with it came all luck and fortune soon to glow.

For those with kind hearts and bright minds, often find themselves on the favorite end of fate's hands.

[molsno]

god.. I'm never going to get bottom surgery am I? I want it so bad but every time I start thinking about actually taking steps to achieve it I get too scared and overwhelmed by how much I need to do so I just give up. and why am I even trying? it's not like I have long term stability right now. I don't know where the hell I'll be living in 2 years or if I'll have anyone to take care of me.

and what's even the point anyway? "you don't NEED it, you WANT it. if it's too much trouble that means you weren't that serious about it anyway. it's not a vagina, it's just a wound. only trans women who knew they were female in childhood should pursue it. you're just an autogynephile with a sick fetish. why are you even a woman if you're not going all the way? you're so male brained. you don't want to fuck men? why even bother transitioning? ew, you have THAT kink? you really are faking. being trans is making you miserable, why don't you just quit? if women are all you want, just be a man again. you need to work harder and make money instead of wasting your time on all this trans shit. when you're rich you'll have all the girls you want and you won't feel so bad anymore. you looked better with a beard, you should grow it out again. and cut off all that hair too! just detransition already. trans people are a danger to women and children. you're all sexual degenerates and perverts. kill yourself!" the onslaught never fucking stops and it's so fucking hard not to bend to the pressure. no matter who's saying it it's all the fucking same, it's all built on feeding us into the woodchipper. every doctor and psychiatrist in the world who prides themselves on caring for trans people is deepthroating the boot that crushes us to death, they're all giving legitimacy to the system designed to kill us and it fills me with so much terror and grief to think about all of the girls like me who have died by its omnipresent hand. I'm not a violent person but if I had a gun I wouldn't hesitate for even a second to empty the entire clip into ray blanchard.

but even that wouldn't make a god damn difference because I'd still have this fucking penis.

[sprucetreeconspiracy]

Do you have any tips for making masc goth outfits? Especially for summer, that's what I'm struggling with the most

hello! I'm not an expert considering how much crossdressing I'm quite comfortable with and how feminine my style is in the end but I'll try! my thoughts are prolly quite generic and recycle various other people's ideas.

if it's too hot for jeans or sth worse (fake leather from plastic) i usually wear shorts, often from the women's section because they will have shorter legs (my legs are the best part of me) and often more fun materials like velvet or sth shiny. guys shorts have the too long and too boring/sporty/"casual" for a good look -disease for me most of the time. you know the cargo short type.

cut out shorts from any old trousers you wanna snip will do fine if you've got those available.

sometimes i wear tights underneath for aesthetic reasons but that may not read as masc depending on how traditional we're thinking.

too hot for boots? I'd like to get myself a pair of winklepickers but rn i have cesare gaspari's take on what a dr martens 3 eyelet platform 1461 would look with a bit more heel. A simple black dress shoe can also work rly well, like plain toe oxfords, monk strap version too if buckles are ur thing. for rain I've got rubber chelsea boots. overdressing w shoes a bit is fun because they're a thing you will see of yourself without a mirror. because I'm a bit of an xmas tree i sometimes accessorise w some flavour of leather straps (narrow recycled belts or stray bag straps) around an ankle or sth.

sun hats are fun and if it's not a bajillion degrees a woolen one will be fine too. for when it is i got myself a black wide trimmed sunny from a random grocery shop.

some shirts can be easily layered as a light jacket if you wish to have sleeves and or layers, or if the cut makes for a cool shape.

my generic tip is to avoid materials that don't breathe as much as you can and to focus on the aesthetic you want to achieve regardless of where the clothes came from, as the masculinity or femininity isn't all in the labelling. think of yourself as a character designer when outfit planning if that's a helpful way to conceptualise.

and when secondhand shopping i usually just browse by colour first, then fabric (visually), then i look at the actual piece like is it sth i could wear or customise into a wearable thing, is the condition ok for what I'd get it for, is it a shite material that gets sweaty easily etc. (sometimes i still get crappy materials cuz they work for the aesthetic like dude i can't afford leather trousers even secondhand and most see through stuff is like polyester or some shit.)

I also buy accessories secondhand and attach them into clothing or wear them on my body in some unintended way. like my fav way to wear my velvet shorts is to safety pin a thrifted black feathery chain necklace to the top so the charms and chains dangle a bit below the short leg.

dissecting old clothes that are no longer useful for anything else is also fun. got some fun zippers and studs from old pleather jacket and boots that were rubbish otherwise. and leather bits with eyelets for laces that I'm yet to slap on anything but their time will come.

a hardware store can be your friend for diy accessories, good for chains, o-rings and the like. got myself a shitton of chain from the boat section last year (and am yet to chop it into smaller accessories cuz i didnt remember to get a tool to cut it w... wore it as a harness a couple of times by stitching it together w safety pins tho).

craft shops for keyring materials are also friends, good for attaching aforementioned pieces.

so. I'd say create a silhouette you like then accessorise and keep your eyes open for pieces that could be a part of something bigger with or without some modifications. in terms of masculinity and or femininity I'd look at like traditional formal and smart wear from whatever historical period u wish and looking into the details that speak to you, then boiling them into the why that's appealing - is it the cut, the material, the fit, the shape - and finding or making sth that embraces some of those aspects.

this was a rly fun thing to think about so thank you for asking!

[kylo-wrecked]

🥂{💋} It's minutes after some hour she can't really read on her watch because she's lost her glasses.... Again.

And when he saunters into his demesne something like the spirit of Morrison possessing a sleek sort of panther, all swagger that is only really exhaustion attempting to outrun itself ~he learned long ago how to fake it to the very last~ Beth is really glad he doesn't have... company. Instead of boots ten miles too high and a ransom of neon spandex, in place of black glossy vinyl that would be forced to make mountains out of molehills only with the right corsetry, she stands in oversized fuzzy flannel pyjama bottoms and a faded Red Hot Chili Peppers tee-shirt {Stadium Arcadium tour, sixteen years in the past}. She offers him up a little plate, on it toast that is still just that, melted butter and honey dripping down the sides. She thinks it's funny. "Happy New Year."

{ 🎁 You know you want: Music!Ben }

His swagger could be an anthem in faking it till making it or just how drunk he is. He smells like a bar. Tobacco, cedar wood, the bite of something medicinal. Every lacquered plaster wall in his moon desert pad rings with the sound of another all-new year, or that could be his ear. Would be gnarly if that was the ear.  

Ben Solo haunts his own apartment, a slow-moving, glitzed-out ghost. 

After stumbling into some chalky owl's burrow to drink from a tap, he stumbles into the sight of Beth Riley standing in his living room like a single mast of light, one leg tucked meekly behind the other. Wide-eyed in her flannels and band shirt, with a china doll smile and a china doll's way of presenting a plate, three-quarters turned. 

Ben leans the square of an allover sequin embellished viscose shoulder into a surface he knows isn't solid at all. He moves his palm up and down the wall, closes his eyes. Shadows hide the marbles of broken blood vessels. 

"Happy New Year." 

Could be January first or January third. Special k was a time-bender that way. New year, new moment. He couldn't remember five hours ago—success. But he could still remember the shrill on I-15. The smell, not unlike toast at first. 

It is funny. 

The little plate is funny. Beth. Funny. Ben doesn't remember inviting her over, leaving her here, but he must have. He must have moved stupid quick and given her his door pin, or she wouldn't be here, in her little PJs, offering him a slab of honey butter toast on a doll-sized stoneware plate in her little hands.

He approaches gradually. There's music in his hesitance, too, though the shine is all shirt, not him. He's death in designer duds, looking for blood. 

"Why are you so small?" He considers Beth with a smile in his eyes that has made other women threaten violence. He considers the toast. "Maybe I'm just too much. Just too big."

But he couldn't possibly have said that—it's not something he'd ever say. 

Ben bites a crust off the treat; warm honey runs down his lip. He swallows and wipes at it with his hand but misses the bead in the corner of his mouth. Not like he doesn't know it's there. 

Till the very last breath could be a toast. 

He laughs at the shirt. 

"Take that off," he slurs, bends to do away with it, and clumsily yanks it up Beth's stomach, revealing her sleek obliques and narrow belly button, the silver knobs of each piercing. Ben does smile when he spots those. (* He doesn't know if he wants to suck on them or if the desire is a memory. His mind is a tunnel, too.*)

As he and Beth struggle over the hem, the collar pulls a little, the faded iron-on tents and warps in their grappling. Beth's heels lift off the floor. She drops the plate, and it bounces on the space-grey carpeting and rolls and clatters on its face in the dark, but she won't let go of his hand. 

They both know Ben could rip off the shirt as easily as he could toss Beth across the room. Still, even in their scuffle, a game is at play. If she won't let him, he won't do it.

Somewhere in that blue night scuffle, their mouths meet with the taste of honey and powdered metal.

@brooklynislandgirl

[tllgrrl]

Winter Shortbread Parts 1 & 2 by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones

Fleurdelouve SarahBucky Month 2023 | Week 3, Day 3 - College Professors AU/Coffeeshop AU | Sarah Wilson x James “Bucky” Barnes and a few OCs | Rating: SFW

* * * * * * * * * *

Sarah Wilson and James “Bucky” Barnes both are college professors.

He teaches Political Science and Labor Law on one side of the sprawling campus. On the other side, she teaches Mechanical Engineering and she’s also a Faculty Advisor for a study group in African-American Literature with an emphasis on Black Women authors.

People never guess the two of them are Professors because the misconception is that “Professor” means Old White Man.

Without fail, at the beginning of the school year, some undergrad who didn’t know, would try to flirt, thinking maybe she was one of them until they found out that she was actually one of their teachers.

“Well,” her friends would laugh, “you know what they say!”

“Yeah girl. Even we can’t tell how old we really are!”

Once she wore a head wrap, which sparked a rumor that she was West African royalty studying in America. Even when she was wearing an LSU t-shirt and jeans, many people agreed.

And him? Fellow members of the Law Faculty call him “Professor GQ”.

“How can someone who looks like that be serious?” one of them grumbles, watching him walk across the campus mall.

“Yeah! He’s just wearing jeans, a t-shirt, motorcycle boots and a sport jacket. A sport jacket! Who looks hot in a sport jacket?!”

“Professor Barnes,” Professor Daniels drawled, then proceeded to drain her water bottle after he walked by.

(Gulping down his water, Dr. Trudeau agreed.)

***

Part 1–Going Up

Sarah hurried up the steps to the relatively new building, impressed by its modern nod to the original architecture, and the original stained glass that was installed in a window at the top of the entrance, but she didn’t have time to admire the design.

She’d taught at the school for 4 years but this was the first time she’d been in this building. She never really had a reason to be there. Her stomping grounds were on the other side of the campus.

The signage indicated that the elevators were to the left, and as she headed down the hallway her phone started to ring.

It was her BFF, Eartha.

“Hey, girl! What’s up? Waitaminute—

Hi! Hold the elevator!! Just a—no! No!! Just a second! Please wait! Please?? Oh, shhhhoot!”

Eartha heard what sounded like papers rustling, and her friend using her Professional Indoor Voice.

“Damn. What an asshole—I mean—jerk. He wouldn’t even hold the elevator.”

[“What?? For real?!”]

“I was right there! I had to pick up a couple of pages that slid out of my folder.”

[“Another one with no home training. Child, men these days. Hold on. What are you wearing?”]

“What am I—? Jeans, Docs, blazer. Fake Pearls. The latest rags from the Underpaid Professor Autumn 2025 Lookbook. Nothing special. Why?”

[“Girl, shut up. You even look runway and red carpet in jeans and work boots, but…are you wearing one of those t-shirts?”]

“What? What t-shirts?”

[“You know what I'm talking about.”]

“I’m wearing my List of Black Women Authors tee.”

[“Hm. Okay, but you know why I asked, don’t you.”]

“I Ain’t Thinkin ‘Bout You is a song lyric! Not a sign saying don’t hold the elevator for me, I’m good, sir.”

[“Yeah, you and the Beehive know that.”]

“That’s right. Blame a sister’s clothes!” she giggled. “ I’m not trying to send Hey! I’m available messages with my t-shirts…like you.”

[“What?! Stop lyin’! I’m juicy is a song lyric, too!”]

They both laugh as Sarah noticed the elevator approaching her floor.

“Let me go. The elevator’s coming and I need to put my student brain on for this class I’m auditing.”

[“Okay. I just called to let you know that I had a cancellation and I can fit you in for Saturday morning if you’re still interested?”]

“Yes! Put me in! I need to get these braids taken out. The end of the year’s coming and I’m ready for a New Year, New Me cut.”

[“Well, okay, now!! I’ll see you Saturday morning. And I’m going to want to hear if the professor is hot.”]

“Girl, Bye!!” she laughs, ending the call and tossing her phone into her purse.

*ding* “Ground floor,” a soft voice says as the next elevator door opens.

She stepped inside and the door was almost completely closed before she hears—

“HOLD ON! Ow! Please? Ow!”

She throws her hand between the doors, breaks the beam just in time, and a man slides in.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She’s seen him before, at the coffee shop not far from campus. He’s usually near the front of the line as she’s arriving.

Tall. Taller than her. Once, he turned to leave the counter with his order, and she saw his eyes. Grey. Like overcast skies. He’d seen her too and it looked like he wanted to stop, then his phone rang, and hers did too.

She wasn’t trying to stare, but as he walked past she noticed his build, and his smooth sort of loping gait.

And like her, he seemed to have a penchant for interesting t-shirts.

It became a sort of habit for both of them to look for each other when they stopped by the coffee shop on the way to campus during the week. Just to see what t-shirt the other one was wearing, of course.

(At least that’s what they told themselves.)

And now, he was standing there in the elevator, juggling his backpack and gingerly holding a to-go cup from Congo Square Coffeehouse and Bakery, where she usually stops on the way to work.

He’s got the cup in his right hand, and is trying to negotiate the left bag strap so he can slip the hot drink into his gloved left hand as quickly as possible because there’s no protective sleeve on the cup.

“Here…” she offers, reaching over, taking the cup, placing it on her palm, and holding it around the rim of the cap. “Let me take that while you get your…bag…”

“Oh! Hey, thanks! Be careful. It’s hot.”

“No, I got it. I do this a lot.”

He slipped the backpack securely onto his shoulder.

“Thanks, again,” he grinned an apology . “Just a second…I know I have a…”

He patted his jacket, quickly reached into a pocket, and with a small flourish pulled out a coffee cup sleeve.

“I prob’ly have a couple down in the bottom of my backpack, too, but I was kinda in a hurry tryna make it ta class on time.”

(Sounds like a local, but a little too fast for a yat. What’s this Yankee doing down here? I wonder if he’s in the class I’m taking…)

He takes the cup and slips the sleeve onto it. “Got it. My hand an’ I both thank you.”

He’d seen her before at Congo Square Coffeehouse, the unofficial campus coffeeshop that’s a few blocks from the university.

He was intrigued from the first time he saw her: tall, almost his height. Something regal about her high cheekbones, the beautiful eyes.

And, like him, she liked to wear interesting t-shirts.

He’s usually almost next in line by the time she’s walking into the shop, and he’d thought of keeping an eye out for her next time. Maybe offer to let her cut in front of him. Maybe start a conversation.

{Who’m I kidding? She probably wouldn’t want to—}

Now, here she is in the same elevator, keeping him from receiving what surely would be a serious coffee injury.

{She really is beautiful. Don’t stare.}

“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I have a question. I…don’t mean to pry, and you really don’t have to answer…”

“Okay…” he chuckled, mentally steeling himself. He also slipped the now shielded cup into his right hand and habitually lowered his gloved hand while at the same time was keenly listening to and enjoying her soft Southern Louisiana accent.

“I just wanted to know… are you from around here or from New York?”

“Am I…oh! Yeah! New York. Brooklyn, actually. I thought you were going to…was it the t-shirt that gave me away?”

“No. The accent. Your t-shirt, however…”

Well, now she had an excuse to actually look at his chest, which she was trying so hard not to stare at ever since he got onto the elevator.

“Dodgers,” he smiled, pulling a side of his jacket open with his freehand, giving her a better view.

“Oh…my…” she whispered, as she noticed how the t-shirt was fitted just enough to where she could tell that there was a sculpted chest and abs under the fabric. She also saw the outline of what looked like military dog tags.

Then she snapped out of it.

“I mean, right! Of course! L.A. Dodgers!”

(Sarah! Act like you have some decorum up in here. Damn!)

“Brooklyn Dodgers. They were from Brooklyn, first. Moved out West in 1957, before the ‘58 season.”

“Won the World Series again the next year, 1959.”

“Well…yeah. How did you—?“

“Larry Sherry pitched them into that win," she said. “Got the MVP.”

“You…do you like baseball?”

“Kind of a fan. My grandfather and my Daddy were big fans, so I grew up watching with them.”

“Really? Who’s your team?”

“The Giants. San Francisco.”

“Rats.”

“What?”

“I guess I can’t ask you if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime. Well…grab another coffee that is,” his mouth quirking into a sideways grin that made her spend too much time looking at his lips. “Or maybe…I don’t know…dinner.”

“Yeah, no,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t be seen out and about with a—“

“Oh, I completely understand—“

“Dodger fan.”

She smiled, and his heart did a flip that hadnothing to do with caffeine.

“Yeah…” his mile-wide smile answering hers, “…the scandal.”

{Marry me.}

*ding* “Ground floor.”

“What?” they both said in unison, staring at the elevator operating panel.

“I forgot to push the button,” he said sheepishly.

“Looks like I did too.”

“And now I’m officially late for my class.”

“You still have time. I’m sure the professor won’t mind—“

“I’m the professor,” he shrugged.

“Oh! Well…good thing you’re fine. I mean, you’re good then! I, on the other hand, am officially late for a class I’m auditing.

“Don’t worry. You’re fine, too. I mean, I’ll vouch for you. I’m Professor Barnes. James Barnes.

If I might ask, what’s the class?”

“Labor Law. Taught by—um—“

She looks at the piece of paper on top of her folder, then looks back at him.

It doesn’t seem possible that his smile got wider, but it did.

“I’ll be glad to write you a note…with…my phone number.”

“Well. Pleased to meet you, Professor Barnes. I’m Professor Wilson. Sarah Wilson.”

When they shake hands, neither is in a hurry to let go.

“Professor Wilson? You teach…here?”

“I’m usually on the other side of campus.”

“I’m always over here. What’s your field?”

“Engineering. Right now I’m teaching classes on Ethics as it relates to Mechanical Engineering. Yes, that’s a class.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Professor Wilson. You can call me James.

I hope you don’t mind if I sit in on one of your classes.”

“Any time, James. And you can call me Sarah.”

“Sarah…”

*ding* “Fifth floor. Please watch your step.”

* * * * *

Part 2 - Order Up!

***2 weeks later, Saturday morning***

It’s Big Game Day at the university, and driving past the shop, she could tell by the crowd out front waiting to get in that it was already slammed.

“They just opened an hour ago. It’s gonna be a long weekend,” she said to herself.

She pulled into the parking space behind the shop, grabbed her purse and hastily walked in through the employees entrance of Congo Square Coffee.

“Hey-hey!”

“Good morning!”

“There she is! How’re you doin’, Babygirl?”

“I’m good, Titi Bernie! You?”

The older woman gives her a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Busy and happy to be here! Let me look at you! Haven’t seen you in months. You look good, Sarah. I just hope you’re not running yourself ragged, teaching and running a business.”

“I’m making it work, Titi. Don’t worry. I’m doing fine. And thanks for coming in before the game. I know you want to get together with your sorors.”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll be there when I get there. I worked here enough years to know how it is on Game Day. I’d’ve been mad if you didn’t call me!” They hug again, and for a second Sarah thinks about her Mama, Titi Bernice’s sister.

“Now, let me get out there. These children are ‘bout to be overwhelmed.” Her face beams as she heads out to the front counter. “Charles?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Check the tables, would you, baby? I see some people leaving.”

“Sure will!”!

Sarah looks out into the shop and sees that all the tables are occupied, some people are waiting for tables to free up, the line is almost out the door, and the mood is a party with almost everybody wearing some combination of purple, gold and black.

The aromas of brewing coffee and fresh-baked goods, and the sound of the espresso machine, coffee grinder, the bustling crew, customers chatting (some even singing along with the playlist) make for a festive atmosphere. And the music mix of NOLA Jazz, Neo-Soul, and uptempo Blues is invigorating and soothing. Familiar.

Sounds and smells she grew up on, from infancy to teens to now adulthood.

She puts her bag in the desk drawer, grabs her apron off of the chair, ties it on and looks up at the photo over the door.

It’s Mama and Daddy, taken on the opening day of the shop.

Under that photo is a framed $5 bill, and under that bill is an old Polaroid picture of a fishing boat with the names “Paul and Darlene” on the side.

“Hey, Mama. Hey, Daddy. Ansamn toujou.”

She takes a breath. In for 3 seconds, out for 4. Opens the door, and it's on:

“I need some shortbread cookies, please,” a voice calls from the front counter.

“On the way!” she answers, and pulls a tray of fresh cookies off the rack. She carefully arranges them on a clean plate and carries them out to the display case.

“Hey, y’all! Dee, fresh shortbread on deck!”

She hears applause from some of the customers and it makes her happy.

“One Americano and a decaf latte, please! Thanks, Sar!”

“Americano and decaf latte, coming up! Ayyyy, Sarah! Sak pase?”

“Ale byen, Bobby! Hi Char, here’s the shortbread. How’s it going? Oh! Hi, ma’am. May I help you? 3 of these? Good choice! I love these! I’ll bag them and get them to Dee, she’ll take your coffee order and ring you up. Thanks!”

“You see this?” Charlotta nods at the crowd. She’s petite, light brown-skin with green eyes and a shock of purple hair, dyed especially for Game Day.

“It’s been like this since we opened the doors this morning! By the way, the new cookies are running out the door. You have another hit. Maybe we should make them year ‘round.”

“Really. Huh. I’ll think about it. Depends on how reliable the source is for the ginger. It’s from a small farm in South Af—“

“Coffee to-go, order up! Hey, Prof! Can you—?”

“Got it!” She takes the cup to the pick-up window, reads the name and calls out, “Bucky? Bucky, your order’s ready!”

She turns back to Char for the next order and catches her cutting her eyes over at Roberto, who’s making another coffee order.

The both of them are snickering.

“Yo, Bobby. You see this one?” Char tilts her head to Sarah.

“You know I do, Char.”

“What? Did y’all just prank me with that name? Oh, come on! Bucky? Is this what we’re doing today?”

“You know him? That blue-eyed, tall drink o’water over there.”

“Because he’s lookin’ at you like knows you. Or maybe wants to.”

They both laughed. Out loud now.

“What? Who are you two talking about?”

Char and Bobby, eyebrows raised, are looking at her, then over her shoulder past her, so she turns back to the pick-up counter, and there’s Professor Barnes. He gives her a little 3 finger wave like he’s happy to see her and hopes she feels the same way about seeing him. He can see by her smile that she is.

She takes a napkin, places a couple of shortbread cookies on it, glares at her two friends, and softly says “He teaches a law class I’m taking. I’ll only be a minute. Konpòte ‘w, okay? Behave yourselves.”

Then she fixes her face, and walks back to the pick-up counter.

“This is a nice surprise. Welcome back to Congo Square Coffeehouse, Professor Barnes. You’re not usually here on Saturdays.”

“Good morning, Professor Wilson. Yeah, this really is a pleasant surprise. I’m meeting some friends over at the stadium for the game. I’m early so I…let’s just say I’m now adding a cuppa the best coffee I’ve ever had to my post-Saturday morning run routine.

By the way,” he holds up the cup, “I’m Bucky. Kind of a nickname people know me by. But like I said, you can call me by my given name. James.”

She realizes that she missed seeing his name on the cup when they were in the elevator, because of the little cardboard shield.

“Really. Well…I’m glad you like what we have to offer enough to keep coming back.

We roast and grind our own coffee beans, and our baked goods come from my Mama’s and Grandmama’s recipes that I put my own spin on.”

{Brains, beauty, baseball, and baking? Am I dreaming?}

She placed the napkin holding the cookies on the lid of his coffee cup.

“A lagniappe. Our newest treat. I call it Winter Shortbread. I hope you like it. By the way, why do you want me to call you James?”

“I like the way you say it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Glossary - Haitian Creole

Sak pase? What’s up?

Ale byen. Going well.

Ansamn, toujou Together, always

Konpòte ‘w Behave yourselves.

Louisiana French

lagniappe a little something extra or for free.

* * * * * * * * * *

1) Working Title

2) There’s possibly a moodboard/graphic/thing for this later.

3) Last, but never least: A thousand Thanks for reading my nonsense!

* * * * * * * * * *

Posted over on The AO3 as Winter Shortbread.

[moovees]

Best Picture “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Avatar: The Way of Water” “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Fabelmans” “TÁR” “Top Gun: Maverick” “Triangle of Sadness” “Women Talking”

Best Director Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”) Todd Field (“TÁR”) Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Actress Cate Blanchett (“TÁR”) Ana de Armas (“Blonde”) Andrea Riseborough (“To Leslie”) Michelle Williams (“The Fabelmans”) Michelle Yeoh (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Actor Austin Butler (“Elvis”) Colin Farrell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brendan Fraser (“The Whale”) Paul Mescal (“Aftersun”) Bill Nighy (“Living”)

Best Supporting Actress Angela Bassett (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”) Hong Chau (“The Whale”) Kerry Condon (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Stephanie Hsu (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Jamie Lee Curtis (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Supporting Actor Brendan Gleeson (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brian Tyree Henry (“Causeway”) Judd Hirsch (“The Fabelmans”) Barry Keoghan (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Ke Huy Quan (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

International film: “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Germany) “Argentina, 1985” (Argentina) “Close” (Belgium) “EO” (Poland) “The Quiet Girl” (Ireland)

Best animated feature: “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” “Marcel the Shell With Shoes On” “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” “The Sea Beast” “Turning Red”

Original screenplay: “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Banshees of Inisherin” “The Fabelmans” “Tár” “Triangle of Sadness”

Visual Effects: “Avatar: The Way of Water” “Top Gun: Maverick” “The Batman” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “All Quiet on the Western Front”

Music (original score): Volker Bertelmann, “All Quiet on the Western Front” Justin Hurwitz, “Babylon” Carter Burwell, “The Banshees of Inisherin” Son Lux, “Everything Everywhere All at Once” John Williams, “The Fabelmans”

Original song: “Applause,” from “Tell It Like a Woman” “Hold My Hand,” from “Top Gun: Maverick” “Lift Me Up” from “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Naatu Naatu” from “RRR” “This Is a Life” from “Everything Everywhere All at Once.

Documentary feature: “All That Breathes’ “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” “Fire of Love” “A House Made of Splinters” “Navalny”

Original screenplay: “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Fabelmans” “Tár” “Triangle of Sadness.”

Adapted screenplay: “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery” “Living,” “Top Gun: Maverick” “Women Talking.

Cinematography: James Friend, “All Quiet on the Western Front” Darius Khondj, “Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths” Mandy Walker, “Elvis” Roger Deakins, “Empire of Light” Florian Hoffmeister, “Tár”

Costume design: “Babylon” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”

Animated short: “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” “The Flying Sailor” “Ice Merchants” “My Year of Dicks” “An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe it"

Live action short: “An Irish Goodbye” “Ivalu” “Le Pupille” “Night Ride” “The Red Suitcase”

Film editing: “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “Tár” “Top Gun: Maverick”

Sound: “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Avatar: The Way of Water” “The Batman” "Elvis” “Top Gun: Maverick”

Production design: “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Avatar: The Way of Water” “Babylon” “Elvis" “The Fabelmans."

Makeup and hairstyling: “All Quiet on the Western Front” “The Batman” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Elvis” “The Whale”