#Lemon Peal Stitch

[cjdsignsworld]

Men's Tweed Crochet Scarf

Tweed Men’s Scarf Crochet Pattern Hi, Sweet Friends! Below is a link to my finished project on Afternoons With Gramma! Continue Reading… This easy men’s scarf crochet pattern is perfect for beginners, using only basic stitches to create a rustic and rugged look. I used Alpaca Yarns by Mary Maxim! They are soft and snuggly even for a rugged man! Continue Reading… I have reached my limit for…

[dollescent]

A Lax Day in the Life of Princess Vaelyra Velaryon

Morning: The Radiance of Dawn

The first light of day kissed Vaelyra’s chambers with golden hues, illuminating the treasures she adored—pearls, delicate shells, and polished stones gleaming softly against the silken backdrop of her sanctuary. Her bed, draped in seafoam green and adorned with Myrish lace, cradled her like a gentle wave.

Vaelyra stirred and yawned, her white sea of her hair fanned across the pillows, iridescent: pink as the interior of a seashell, blue as a dawn over the ocean, gold like the sun rising over the same. Her mismatched eyes, one of blue color like the sky at dawn and the other light violet like the budding flower at dawn, shining like twin stars awakening from slumber.

Her maids entered, the sound of their voices chorusing perfectly with the coming of the sea breeze with the windows opening; their quiet shuffles harmonizing with the sea breeze filtering through the open windows. Rising gracefully, Vaelyra allowed them to wrap her in a robe of lilac silk, the fabric as soft as a lover’s caress.

Her bath awaited, a ritual of luxury and peace–a symbol of cleansing and serenity. The water glistened with crushed pearls, sea salt, and fragrant oils of dragonflower and citrus. Vaelyra rested against the soft arms of the tub, the maids washing her hair with the respect of royalty, and skin with reverent care. When she emerged, her skin resembled the sheen of the rising sun along the shoreline; her curls were supple and smooth, set in a waterfall like style, pinned with a delicate circlet of pearls.

Her gown for the day was chosen with the same care and precision—a flowing sea-green creation adorned with silver waves and golden dragons, pearls stitched along the neckline and cuffs. Her jewelry reflected her dual heritage: a necklace of Arraexys’ shed scales and a bracelet of Driftmark’s finest pearls.

Daytime: Grace in Motion

Vaelyra spent her day reveling in leisure and the simple joys of life. She wandered barefoot along Driftmark’s beaches, with her dress as light as the winds that blew, her eyes sparkling like starlight on water. With a small woven basket in hand, she collected sea treasures—iridescent shells, smooth stones, and fragments of coral.

She ventured into the gardens, where blooms of every hue vied for her attention. Her fingers brushed against petals and leaves as she strolled, hearing the birds chirp, her voice rising in soft song as though the flowers themselves deserved her melody.

Gathered under a pergola draped in roses, Vaelyra shared the afternoon with her ladies-in-waiting. They brought trays of delicate pastries—lemon tarts, lavender shortbread, and honey cakes—and pitchers of sweet wine cooled in ice. Their laughter mingled with the rustling of leaves, and Vaelyra’s clever remarks elicited delighted peals of mirth.

Evening: The Gilded Glow of Twilight

As the sun dipped low, Vaelyra returned to her chambers. Her maids helped her out of her daytime gown, carefully folding it away. She slipped into a bath once more, this time cool and calming, infused with chamomile, mint, and moonflower.

Her evening wear was softer and more intimate—a gown of pale silks and Myrish lace in shades of dusk, her hair unbound.She put on a pendant of pearls and dragon scales, the colors symbolizing her family’s love and roots.

Vaelyra dined lightly, savoring honeyed fruits and sipping a goblet of sweet wine. Afterward, she settled by the window with her journal, writing by candlelight as the sea whispered secrets just beyond the walls.

Night: The Quiet Majesty of Dreams

When the hour grew late, Vaelyra prepared for rest. Her maids turned down her bed, the silken sheets cool and inviting. She gazed at the treasures arranged around her room, her fingers lightly brushing a particularly large lush pearl she had carried with her throughout the day.

She slipped beneath the covers, the linen felt like a blanket of cumulus clouds against her skin, and closed her radiant eyes. Her breathing steadied, the gentle rise and fall of her chest resembling the ebb and flow of the sea.

Even in sleep, Vaelyra remained a vision of ethereal beauty, a dream wrapped in silks and starlight, carrying with her the whispers of fire and water.

ib: @hrrtshape

banner credits: enchanthings, sseuda

[hantaslittlearsonist]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Fluff and humour with Cheslock in honnor of my fav coworker.

Cheslock was leaning on the counter, writing down a customer's order. It was so hot — even in the small well-ventilated booth you were hiding from the worst of the heat in — that he had commented earlier he "felt like the inside of the dishwasher". 37°C weather should be illegal, in your opinion.

Not that Cheslock had helped his own case, in his black jean shorts and Tokyo Ghoul tee. He looked good. But hot. Overheating hot. The tee tapered in a little at the waist; the fabric was pulled in by two deliberate stitches, placed just right so they gave him a slight hourglass shape. That, added to his oversized shorts, almost made it look like he was wearing a knee-length dress from far enough away. He had ommited styling his hair today — he said it would have "deflated with the heat anyway" — so it flopped over his forehead and into his eyes and he kept having to shake his head so he could see what he was writing.

'An Orangina and a Perrier with lemon please. Oh, and a Nutella pancake for the kid.' The client listed.

You wondered why said kid wanted a pancake in this heat. Silently judging them, you went off into the back room to prepare it.

When you came back with the pancake, Cheslock was still leaning on the counter, one of his legs bent, the other stretched out straight and bearing all of his weight. He was almost lying on it at this point. The customer paid for their order, tapping their card onto the terminal too fast and having to redo it.

Pancake plate and cutlery in hand, your eyes were attracted to something white on the ass of Cheslock's shorts. You frowned, what is that?

"Muffins."

Cheslock had "Muffins" written backwards on his ass in chalk. You struggled to choke down a laugh, turning it into a clearing of your throat.

Once the customer had carried their order off, you started laughing. Tears welled up in your eyes and you bent over with a hand braced on the counter.

"Muffins."

You thought that was an apt way to describe Cheslock's ass, yes. "Muffins."

Cheslock, on the other hand, stood there looking like a Sim waiting for their next task.

'What?'

You wheezed. 'Chalk-'

Cheslock quirked his eyebrow. 'Chalk?'

'You- pffft you must have leaned on the chalkboard!' You forced yourself to take a deep breath, only to start laughing again. In a rediculously high pitched voice you said: 'There's "Muffins" on your ass, Ches!'

The idiot then decided to spin on himself, trying to get a clear look of his ass. You doubled over, a hand smacking the counter next to you as you watched him do a couple circles before giving up and pouting.

'I can't see...' He complained, half a grin already pulling at his lips. 'Take a photo, will you?'

You grabbed your phone, focused the lense on the mirrored word by tapping on Cheslock's ass through the screen — this made you snort another laugh — and took the picture. He stepped in close to you, the front of his shoulder brushing the back of yours to look at it. He stared at the photo of the bright white "Muffins" centered perfectly over his ass, the only way it could have been better was if it hadn't been mirrored. It was his turn to double over.

'How long have I been walking around like that?' He struggled through peals of boyish laughter.

'I don't know... But it's an accurate description.' You answered, smacking his back a few times for effect.

He laughed harder still. 'You're not wrong...'

Cheslock dusted at the letters. He managed to pat away most of the chalk but missed a few spots.

'Is it gone?'

It wasn't, the outline of the "M" remained as well as one of the "f"s and the "s". You shook your head.

'Get it for me?' He prompted, bracing his hands on the counter, leaning over and looking back at you like he was asking for something a little more risqué.

The image made you blush. You patted the chalk off his jeans none the less.