#alpine grain

[aldenarmy]

[lucasmarcomini]

Lago di Braies, Dolomites

Nikon F80 - Kodak Portra 400

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[macaiv]

Original article in French translated using Google Translate

[racemeyibo]

okay. this is pretty uninformed and probably unlikely but. andretti buying alpine? 👀

[fxrmuladaydreams]

little crush (cl16)

charles x reader

request: hiya lovely could you maybe write something about charles with the subtle romantic gestures prompts? any of them are fine ❤️❤️❤️

wc: 1234

notes: charles, my first f1 love 🤭 this was actually so fun to write, i hope you enjoy it

Charles Leclerc was the Prince of Ferrari, Il Predestinato. He was one of the best drivers on the grid, sought after by almost every team. He had fans swooning for him wherever he went. And yet, he couldn’t get over this tiny little crush on you.

You were a friend of another driver, brought along to a race as a guest. He watched as you wandered the paddock with wide eyes, staring at everything around you. He watched as George threw an arm over your shoulders, steering you to the Mercedes building.

A few people questioned the Ferrari driver’s sudden interest in hanging around the Mercedes area all of a sudden, but all it would take was one look at him with you for everything to become clear.

It was nearly impossible to hide the longing look in his eyes whenever he was near you, and it only became worse when he actually got to know you.

He would often be caught trying to pull you away from the Mercedes garage, setting a bright red cap on your head after tossing away the black one. It wasn’t uncommon for you to willingly follow him to his garage, catching a smirk from his teammate. Even the fans had started to question why George Russell’s friend had suddenly become a frequent Ferrari guest.

You thought your friendship with the Monégasque was blossoming beautifully, but others would tell you otherwise. George’s teasing comments about the smile you couldn’t wipe from your face made you flush. Carlos’ insistence that Charles drives better when you’re in his garage made the Monégasque blush.

Of course Charles had already been aware of his crush on you, he’d had a crush on you before he even knew you, when you were still someone who just passed him by in the paddock. He just hadn’t expected his feelings to grow when he’d gotten to know you.

He didn’t want it to seem like he was taking some sort of claim over you, but he couldn’t help but be moody towards anyone who tried to pull you away from him. He remembers an incident with Pierre, the Frenchman had tried to get your attention, he’d offered to take you to the Alpine garage, to show you the car after you had mentioned liking the pink livery. He’d ended up on the receiving end of a harsh glare from Charles, but that quickly faded from his face when you turned back to him, tugging his hand towards Pierre.

“Let’s go see the car Charlie.” He stumbled after you, his hand still clasped in yours and a goofy smile spread over his face.

As much as you’d hoped the others were right about Charles’ supposed feelings for you, you took everything they said with a grain of salt. Charles was a world famous F1 driver, one of the top athletes in his sport. You were simply a friend of a friend, and he was simply being nice.

You had been looking forward to a dinner coming up that George had invited you to, some of the other drivers and their girlfriends would be there too. You enjoyed getting a look at the extravagant life George lived, and he enjoyed having you there with him.

George and Carmen had picked you up from your hotel, Carmen looking you up and down and fawning over you.

“Charles is going to melt when he sees you!” She says as she loops your arm with hers.

You simply laugh and shake your head.

The restaurant is dimly lit, a waiter guided your group to a back room where the rest of the drivers were. George and Carmen were quickly pulled away by Alex and Lily, leaving you shifting awkwardly on your feet. You felt a little out of place, like you were somewhere you didn’t belong, until your eyes met Charles’ and it all melted away.

He quietly excused himself from the person he was talking to, and took a few quick strides to get to you.

“You look beautiful Y/n.” He says as he pulls you into a hug.

“Thank you Charlie.”

You mingle a bit with the others, Charles' hand never leaving the small of your back, even when he’s talking with someone else.

“He’d been waiting for you to come in ever since he got here.” Lily whispers to you, a smirk on her face.

You end up seated across from Charles at dinner, his eyes rarely leaving yours, and watching you as you laugh at a joke he makes. A proud smile graces his features as he watches you lean into George slightly, hiding your face with a hand.

He’s surprised to feel a foot kick his leg under the table, and turns to see Carlos looking at him. He smiles, and shakes his head.

“You’re funny, but you’re not that funny.”

The rest of dinner goes well, more mingling afterwards, until you slowly feel your social battery draining.

“I think I’m going to head back to the hotel.” You tell George and Carmen.

“We can drive you back.” George starts, reaching for his keys in his pocket.

“It’s alright, I can walk.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Charles is quick to say.

“You don’t have to.” You tell him.

“I want to.” He smiles.

He grabs his jacket from his chair and follows you back outside.

The evening brings a cool breeze, making you shiver slightly. Charles drapes his jacket over your shoulders, shaking his head when you tell him he should wear his jacket.

“I’m fine amour.”

The term of endearment takes you both by surprise. His cheeks color a soft pink, but whether that was his words or the cold air you didn’t know.

You make conversation on the way back to the hotel, smiling to yourself when Charles steps around you so that he’s standing on the edge of the sidewalk.

Your hands brush against his several times, tempting you to interlink your fingers with his. You’ve held hands before, but always as friends, this would be stepping over a line that still seemed foggy to you.

He walks you up to your room, his arm brushing against yours. He looks like he wants to say something but can’t quite get it out.

You stop in front of your room, and slip his jacket off, holding it out to him.

“Thank you Charles.”

He smiles and ducks his head down.

“Did you want to come in for a drink? Before you have to go back to your room?” You ask, taking a chance.

He furrows his brows and fiddles with the jacket in his hands. “I have to walk back to the restaurant to get my car…” he laughs awkwardly.

“Charlie, why-”

“I wanted to spend more time with you, and I had fun. I like being with you.” He shrugs.

You stare at him, Charles Leclerc and his pretty green eyes, and his stupid smile, and you can’t stop yourself from holding his face and pulling it to yours to kiss him.

His hands instantly find themselves resting on your waist, pulling your body against his as he returns your kiss.

He smiles into the kiss, cursing the need to breathe when he has to pull away from you. As you pull him into your hotel room with you, he thanks god that he never got over his massive crush on you.

[brunchable]

WINTER KING 《DRABBLE ONE》 || ALPINE.

Bucky was already questioning his life choices, particularly the one that led to a fluffy white menace currently purring in his lap. Alpine, the royal cat, had decided that the king’s lap was her throne, and there was nothing Bucky could do about it.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Bucky muttered under his breath as Alpine kneaded his thigh with her claws. He gave her a half-hearted glare, but the cat simply blinked at him in slow, feline defiance.

The council meeting was dragging on, and Lord Carter was midway through a boring proposal about grain storage when it happened. A sudden, loud sneeze broke the silence.

“A-choo!” Carter wiped his nose, blinking rapidly. “I—uh, excuse me, Your Majesty.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between Carter and the cat. “You alright there, Lord Carter?”

“A-choo!” Another sneeze. “It’s... it's the... the—” Carter gestured weakly towards Alpine, his eyes starting to water.

Bucky’s lips twitched. “The what?”

“The cat!” Carter sneezed again, louder this time, as Alpine looked up at him with all the grace and indifference only a cat could muster. “I’m—I’m terribly allergic, Your Majesty.”

“Well, you better not let her hear that. Alpine’s got a thing for people who don’t like her,” Bucky said, barely containing his amusement. Alpine, as if sensing the tension, stood up and jumped gracefully onto the table, strutting over to Lord Carter on the table.

“A-choo!” Carter’s sneezes grew more frequent, his face turning red as Alpine nonchalantly rubbed against his scrolls. “Your Majesty, please—A-choo!”

You, sitting beside Bucky, bit you lip, trying not to laugh. “I think she likes him,” you whispered.

“She’s a menace,” Bucky muttered, watching with glee as Alpine curled her tail right under Carter’s nose. The lord looked like he might explode.

“A-choo! Your Majesty, I—I really—” Carter’s face was now bright red, and his eyes were streaming. He backed up from the table as Alpine sat smugly on top of his papers, flicking her tail with all the arrogance of royalty.

“Oh, I don’t know, Lord Carter,” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the show. “She seems pretty 'comfortable' with you. Must be your charm.”

You snorted quietly, covering your mouth to hide your giggle. “She’s probably has a good judge of character.”

“A-choo! A-choo!” Lord Carter sneezed uncontrollably, his composure completely crumbling as Alpine stretched and gave him a long, condescending look.

Bucky, trying to keep a straight face, turned to the council. “Any objections to this meeting being... adjourned?”

None of the lords dared to speak, especially as Carter sneezed again, loudly enough to make several chairs creak.

“Alright then, dismissed,” Bucky said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he scratched behind Alpine’s ears. The cat purred, oblivious to the chaos she had caused.

As the council hurried out of the room, Carter sneezing and muttering under his breath, you leaned over to Bucky, your eyes shining with laughter. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am,” Bucky replied, watching Alpine hop back into his lap with a satisfied meow. “It’s about time someone took Lord Carter down a peg.”

Tags: @theendofthematerialgworl @httpb3a @spiidergirlsworld @sebastians-love @stevesbbgorl

@targaryenhues @almosttoopizza @scott-loki-barnes @brckenmemories @vicmc624

@classicrebound @nommingonfood @greatenthusiasttidalwave @railmesebstan @annawilk

@landoslutmeout @winterslove1917 @missvelvetsstuff @s0kovianwitch @lveegsoi

@suckerfordylansstuff @daydream-believer19 @shadowzena43 @itsshellzy @decaffeinatedjellyfishduck

@melsunshine @barnesxstan @singsosworld @kitsunetori

@im-normal-about-characters @hayleythecannibal @tallaennatargaryen @honeywithemoney

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More Geology Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Luster - The reflection of light from the surface of a mineral, described by its quality and intensity.

Microcrystalline - Describes a rock texture consisting of crystals visible only with a microscope.

Moonmilk - A soft, white, initially deformable deposit that occurs on the walls of caves.

Nuée ardente - A swiftly flowing, turbulent, sometimes incandescent gaseous cloud erupted from a volcano, containing ash and other pyroclastic materials in its lower part.

Orogeny - A mountain-building event.

Parabolic dune - Crescent-shaped dune with horns or arms that point upwind.

Perlitic - Describes the texture of glassy volcanic rocks characterized by numerous curving cracks roughly concentric around closely spaced centers.

Permafrost - Any soil, subsoil, or other surficial deposit, or even bedrock, occurring in arctic, subarctic, and alpine regions at a variable depth beneath Earth’'s surface in which a temperature below freezing has existed continuously for a long time (from two years to tens of thousands of years).

Phreatic - Of or relating to groundwater.

Phreatophyte - A deeply rooted plant that obtains water from the water table or through the overlying capillary fringe.

Pictograph - A picture painted on a rock by primitive peoples.

Pillow lava - A general term for lavas displaying pillow structures and considered to have formed in a subaqueous environment; such lava is usually basaltic or andesitic.

Pluvial - Describes a geologic process or feature resulting from rain.

Reservoir - An artificial or natural storage place for water, such as a lake, pond, or aquifer, from which the water may be withdrawn for such purposes as irrigation, municipal water supply, or flood control.

Roundstone - Any naturally rounded rock fragment larger than a sand grain.

Schistose - Describes a rock displaying schistosity, or foliation, which imparts a silky sheen.

Scour - The powerful and concentrated clearing and digging action of flowing water, air, or ice.

Strand plain - A shore built seaward by waves and currents, extending continuously for some distance along the coast.

Tree mold - A cylindrical hollow in a lava flow formed by the envelopment of a tree by the flow, solidification of the lava in contact with the tree, and disappearance of the tree by burning and subsequent removal of the charcoal and ash. The inside of the mold preserves the surficial features of the tree.

Vitreous - Having the luster and appearance of glass.

Source ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ More: Word Lists

[life-on-our-planet]

Hello. A bit of a different request. But some time ago I saw a post with a European badger and an American badger side by side with some people getting confused with and questioning if the American badger was actually a wolverine. Is there anyway you could showcase the three of them together to compare them? The European badger, American badger and wolverine side by side?

ooo okay! i wish i could see the original post, both because i'm curious and also because i think i could answer better if i knew how the first discussion went, but i'll do my best!

firstly of course (although i'm not remotely qualified to answer on a detailed taxological level) they're all members of the family Mustelidae, but they're each in a different genus.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

European badger

in Europe!

Genus Meles

smaller build, distinctive facial markings

very adaptable and opportunistic omnivore, eating many things including plants/grains, fruits, insects, and smaller vertebrates.

live together in clans of 6 to 20

prefers deciduous and mixed woodlands

crepuscular/nocturnal

hibernates through winter

American badger

in North America!

genus Taxidea

heavyset build, distinctive massive foreclaws

fossorial carnivore, eating other burrowing animals like snakes, mice, gophers, and ground dwelling birds

lives in solitude, except around breeding season

prefers prairies and open grasslands

generally nocturnal except females caring for young

less active but still emerges in winter

Wolverine

found across most of the world in the Northern hemisphere

genus Gulo (only extant member)

dark, mostly solid color fur

primarily feeds by scavenging, but also capable of hunting for many types of small to medium animals.

also known to have taken down prey much larger than itself including deer, cow, and even lynx

lives in solitude

prefers isolated arctic boreal and alpine regions.

generally active day or night, with 3-4 hours of alternating sleep and activity.

does not hibernate

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

so yeah! there are lots more specifics about each of these three animals but that's some really basic stuff. they all have definite similarities, while also being demonstrably different in lots of ways.

♡loop

[ham1lton]

Secretyn would eat 😭 shes probably fine as hell, a boss babe, getting her own checks and has zero interest in wag to model pipeline, and most definitely has an engagement ring on her finger, her man begs her at least once a month “baby just let me soft launch” but imagine going on the shaderoom dms

“hey guys, just wanted to say that allegedly the pierre vs este thing is all forced and pr bc alpine needs attention, they hangout every day… uhhh heres a video of them gossiping and giggling with each other😅”

“Its me again, streets are saying lando has a FINE ASS woman but uhh yea idk maybe, take it with a grain of salt”

“Max actually hates daniel 😬 theyre both just friends for the attention, ya know since dan is attractive but max is doing great on the grid”

“Oscar is actually 100% fluent in mandarin , he actually spoke broken English when i 1st met him”

oscar reading ham1ltonshaderoom during breakfast like the morning paper: what do you mean? they’re saying i don’t speak english but instead i speak mandarin with an australian accent. but then they’re also saying i’m also not australian? this is a bunch of lies hello?! i have my passport ‼️

lando walking in with a translator pocketbook: 你好 (hi)

oscar: i don’t speak chinese lando. they lied to u.

lando: 所以我白买了这个钱包 (so i bought this wallet for nothing?)

oscar: how did you learn all of this so quickly but you don’t know how to use a microwave properly?

lando: 去你的 (fuck you)

[pinkcarsupremacy]

lmao take this with a grain of salt but reddit comments are saying that alpine may have broken uk privacy laws/esteban potentially has grounds for a lawsuit by tracking the company car outside of working hours???

https://www.reddit.com/r/formula1/comments/1edo9sv/marcin_budkowski_revealed_that_alpine_found_out/

I would tend to agree with them I mean of course none of us know the ins and outs of the situation but the UK has pretty strict privacy laws (GDPR) and whilst I'm sure all their company cars are tracked with GPS the legality of accessing that data would be very strict and they would need a legitmate reason for doing so. Checking up on where your employee is going in their private time would not be considered a legit reason under any circumstance save suspicion of criminal activity or something. And not to mention that not only was that information accessed, it was then seemingly spread to multiple Alpine employees, who in turn spread it to the press and we can assume that's where all the Ocon/Williams rumours came from in the last few weeks.

Like disregard the fact it was Williams he visited for a moment and let's say instead it was a hospital. So they have checked his GPS because [insert dodgy reason here] and found he spent 5 hours at a hospital. They then tell other staff this. They then spread it to the press. Then the media would be speculating about why he was at a hospital. That would be a pretty insane (and illegal) breach of privacy, right?

[aldenarmy]

[ottovonruthie]

On the James/Logan situation, it's probably coming down to Logan's driving and what James has been saying to the media.

When James first signed Logan he said their intentions in resigning him after his poor rookie season was to "nurture him" and "develop his talent". For context, Logan was part of Williams Junior programe, so he's a Williams driver through and through. He was announced to be picking up the second Williams seat in October 2022 after they decided to drop Nicolas Latifi during his third year racing for Williams and they honestly didn't have many options (Oscar notably got picked up by McLaren and De vryies who did well during Alex's leave for appendicitis by Alpha Tauri). It also should be known that James also joined Williams as TP in 2023, so it Jost Capito (past Williams TP) who decided to pull up a "underdeveloped" Logan. I put undeveloped in quotations because he was, he wasn't ready and needed that second year, but he isn't a bad driver. He preformed well during his F3 and F2 seasons, and it's proven by his performance in Charouz in 2021. Charouz was the worst car on the grid finishing last the year before, and Logan was able to score their first ever podium in F3. He also scored 102 points and placed 7th in the championship. This is actually insane, and to put into perspective, Charouz only scored a total of 127 points that year.

When he was signed, people had very high hopes for Logan out that didn't exactly pan out.

This year Williams has been relatively unreliable, not only in strategy but also in the car. In Bahrain he had steering problems, and in Australia he had his chassis given to Albon who had crashed in FP3. This caused a lot of outrage over this decision, and people questioning if it should be even allowed to do that. This was the first sign that Williams might not be exactly following what they were saying earlier in the year.

Logan would then be given an overweight chassis in Japan as they didn't have a spare chassis after Williams production of car parts was very backed up (they had this whole Microsoft word doc thingy and they were barely able to even have both cars ready for testing). Logan would from then on have a different spec car and get some 2023 parts on his car until Spain where he would get the updates. The funny thing is that they didn't even work. Silverstone where he finally and the updates working and on his car, he had his best performance of the season. After this we would get a article stating that James never gave any feedback, which was very strange.

James in that time though had been openly interested in replacing Logan this year with rumors flying from Carlos to Valtteri to even Esteban in taking the second Williams seat. Esteban had been reported to have had a seat fitting and was reported to have been planed to drive in Hungary if Alpine hadn't blocked the move.

Then we obviously hear that Logan and James aren't speaking, and take this with a grain of salt, but it's also said that Dorilton Capital (the new owners of Williams and an American investment company) wanted to keep Logan for the 2024 season, so it's spectated that James never wanted Logan in that seat.

In my opinion, Logan probably thinks it's unfair how he's not being given a solid chance and James has been shitting on him to basically anyone who will listen, and James just doesn't want Logan as a driver.

Thank you so much for this. I’m now fully caught up with the Williams’ drama. I knew he’d been driving the non upgraded version of the car most of this season but that’s it. But this is where I debate with myself, if they’re going to do all of this, wouldn’t it just be better to have not renewed his contract from the start and look elsewhere? I’m glad he’s getting the experience but it’s lowkey a waste of both of their times.

[highlordofkrypton]

warmth // an elain x lucien smut one-shot

This was written as a response to @lainalit's request for a specific Elucien scenario 😉

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've never written Elain before, and this fic turned out way more delicate than I expected! Hope you all enjoy it.

SUMMARY: Elain loves her husband, but as the emissary of the Spring Court, Lucien is always busy. She decides to set a time limit; he can work as long as he can resist her.

Read on AO3 or under the cut (tw: explicit content).

The earth feels cool on her long slender fingers; it feels like home. Old memories of their hovel drift into her mind as she pokes little burrows for the water to seep more deeply into the ground, and perhaps if she's lucky, wild little flowers will find a home to grow in.

Her work is purposeful, though humble. On one end of the garden, roses bloom, watching the centuries go by despite their creator's absence. She sings to them, and tells them stories of their son, the current High Lord of this magical, blossoming place.

"Your sprout is doing well," she whispers to the spirit of Tamlin's mother who has lived here for an eternity and a half. "But you already knew that."

The plot right beside the yellow flowers are a little hoard of alpine lotuses. They breathe with scent of crisp night, but their hearts are as bright as spring itself. Elain tends to them too; the flowers—they speak to each other. She may not be privy to their conversations, but they all seem to mirror one another.

Elain picks up her basket and adjusts her sunhat, moving from eternal flower to eternal flower. She knows each of them like old friends, some of whom their magic is familiar and others, a welcomed stranger into her life.

It was her idea to sow this garden; it was her mission to create a place of peace and safety for all those who wanted to protect what matters most to them. Faeries and humans alike would come here and plant their love, either a single grain of everything they have, or grand gestures of adoration. When Tamlin had told her to make herself at home, this was her only request. A place for all to love freely.

The High Lord had not only granted her wish, but he extended his protection over all which bloomed in his soils, no matter their origins.

Her first and last stop is always the bright orange emberflowers at the edge of her garden. When the breeze blows, their petals crackle like a warm fire on a cool summer's eve. Their song welcomes her as she approaches, and they sway at the sight of her smile—happy little children at the sight of their beloved mother.

"Hello, my darlings," she hums.

Their petals are soft, and she remembers only to touch the edges where the colour errs on the shades of fall. She had made the mistake of touching the bright ringlets of blue at their cores, and it had burned her terribly.

It was her mistake for thinking something so soft and comforting would be without its own edges. Lucien had told her their flowers hold the ferocity with which he would protect their love, but Elain knew that she would protect what they have twice as hard.

When every member of the garden has been cared for, Elain retreats to the Lord's manor. She skips past Alis and the gaggle of new handmaidens. She introduces herself briefly, quickly brushing her soiled hands across the white apron over her dress, before excusing herself. The basket of gardening tools is left on the first floor while she searches for her dutiful half, but not before washing her hands clean with lilac water.

Though she knows exactly where he is, Elain still makes a game out of it, wondering if she'll ever catch her husband in one of the many other rooms in the manor. Their room, though full of flowers and beloved paintings, is empty. The library is still a mess—a chaos that can only be attributed to guests enjoying the company of their home—but without its Lord Emissary.

She breezes through the long hallways, past the prim white walls and golden trims of intricate moldings. Her life on the other side of the wall had been years ago, and yet, she still cannot believe the opulence of a High Lord's home.

"Miss Elain, Miss Elain!" A tiny pixie buzzes beside her, crystaline wings fluttering wildly to keep up with Elain's long strides. "I did it! I did it!"

"I told you," Elain reprimands, voice light like a chime. "Elain is just fine." She holds her hands out to cup the little creature as it stands stark naked, hands on her little hips. "How did it go?"

"I told them! I told them that just because I was little, they couldn't push me around. It's not very springy of them," the pixie nods, her pointed tuft of hair bouncing with the movement. "And that the Lady of our Court would be very disappointed."

"And what did they say?"

"Um," the pixie gets shy. "Well, they said that Spring Court doesn't have a Lady, so I kicked them in the butt real hard."

Elain laughs. There are those who have yet to acclimate to her role in the Spring Court. Her husband, for all intents and purposes, is the Lord Emissary of Spring and in the absence of the Court's High Lord, the decisions fall to Lucien. She takes none of it to heart.

"I can't say I endorse the violence," Elain says firmly, but she looks around to see if anyone is around to eavesdrop. "Good job standing up for yourself." She smiles and presses a gentle kiss on the pixie's forehead. "I heard there's honey tarts in the kitchens. You should go reward yourself. Tell Aed that I, the not-Lady of the Court, sent you."

"Thank you, Miss Elain! I couldn't'a done it without you!"

The pixie flies off, excitedly doing loop-de-loops in the air, as Elain waves her goodbye.

Onwards towards my husband, Elain muses, a soft smile on her delicate features.

Five rhythmic knocks signal her arrival. Lucien lifts his head, and her heart flutters at the sight of him. Her spirits had been light already, but being with him makes her soul soar.

"My love," he greets smoothly.

"My dutiful emissary," she reprimands with a grin. "How long have you been here?"

Lucien sets his quill down, and waves away the other three that were scribbling away by the grace of his magic. "Not that long."

"Since the first crow of the cock, at least, and it is nearly noon." The grin that slithers on his face is made of mischief. Elain ignores the implications, skirting into the room. "When I married you, I thought I would have more of you."

"So did I, but our High Lord seems to have developed an aversion to paperwork. It's fatal, he says."

"Mhm, and that is why he is galavanting in Night Court?"

"He, and I quote, brought the honey — where else will he find the moon but in the Night Court?"

"Clever."

With a single finger (and his help), she coaxes his chair backwards. Elain climbs into her lap, and when he leans to press a kiss to her lips, she turns to focus on work. That is his preference, is it not? Instead, his kiss lands on the tops of her pointed ears.

"What's this?"

Elain's eyes dance across the page. It is a draft with words crossed out haphazardly and more scribbles above. She finds many things in the discarded—words of love and adoration, a plea for celebration, and a hundred other soft sentiments.

"You're still doing this?"

Lucien rests his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist securely as he reads along with her. "Mhm."

"Lucien," she breathes. "You don't need to."

He promised—he promised he would love her in every which way, including professing his love to her in the languages of the Seven Courts of Prythian. On their fingers, they wear the shadows of the Night Court, a promise to always hold one another. In their eyes, flickers of brown dot Lucien's russet, and vice versa for Elain—the magic of Dawn sealed their promise to always see one another through glamour, magic and the storm of emotions. Both Autumn and Spring bargains are sealed here in the garden, their very own fire contained in their eternal flowers.

In his newest letter, he entreats the Winter Court to allow them into their territory for the Midwinter Festival where the two of them can bring life to a snowmite through the magic of their bargain. High Lord Kallias is not his father, but since Amarantha's invasion, Lucien has always tread carefully with Winter.

"I do. I love you to the ends of this Earth and back."

"I know that, you foolish male. I don't need grand gestures."

"And yet, you will recieve them anyway," Lucien grins.

"Even at the cost of spending time with my husband?"

"I'm almost done, my darling."

Oh, this will not do. Even if Lucien says he's almost done, Elain knows that this is the lie that plagues him the most. She presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Not good enough. Aed has prepared new recipes for us to try. The food will get cold."

She knows if she truly asked him to stop working, he would. There is nothing Lucien would deny her. Instead, an idea flutters into her mind. The kind of idea that brings a deep flush to her cheeks. Mother above, it's so unlike her, Elain doubts if she can execute it properly. She would ask her sisters were they here, but they too have taken to galavanting across Prythian now that the threat of death no longer looms above them. Not for years now.

How much is too much? She would ask them.

A few years ago, we had nothing. Nothing is too much, Feyre would surely say while grazing on a tamelon with her feet up on the ornate couch and her boots still on.

Who cares? Nesta would snap. Do what makes you happy, El. He's a male, he will be happy with whatever you give him.

It's true, Feyre would agree.

It's a wonder how things have changed—how three sisters who could not be more different are now in sync. Their family, once fractured, feels whole again.

"You will have a time limit."

Lucien's auburn brows perk. "Oh? And how much time will I have?"

"That depends," Elain says, getting up and adjusting her skirts. She feigns looking for something under her desk.

"On what? What are you looking for down there?" Rather than answer, she pulls his chair closer, effectively trapping her beneath the desk, between his legs. "Elain?"

Never in her years has she thought of doing something like this. She has always watched the others; how freely they express their adoration for their partners. Her shyness has always overwhelmed her. If not, the propriety he mother taught her always took precedence. Her duty as the wife of an emissary is to represent him well. What use is there for her to do such things?

Only one way to find out.

Arousal pools in her belly before she even begins, warmth settling between her legs. She bites her lip, fascinated by the magic of her own mind. She hasn't done anything, and yet her body knows.

Elain's slender fingers smooth over Lucien's thighs. Beneanth the tailored fabric, she can feel the strength of his lean muscles. His style has always been a choice, projecting elegance and flair, all while hiding the power beneath. (Power that she knows well.)

She kisses his knee, a loving gesture he has done to her time and time again—one that she is happy to reciprocate. Her touch wanders to his hips, and his ass without lingering too long.

"Elain." Lucien's voice is a shuddered breath. "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself while you finish your work."

"Elain," he outright moans, a single-word complaint.

A smile dances on her lips as her hand explores the blooming erection between his legs. Elain laughs softly, but its drowned out by Lucien's groan. He spreads himself as much as he can, trapped between the walls of the desk. He could shatter the desk, but that would defy the point of her game.

Button by button, Elain takes her sweet time in freeing her husband's cock from the confines of his tailored trousers. It springs free, tall, proud and glistening, even in the dim light under the desk. She takes it in his hand, stroking the soft skin and toying with the folds of his tip.

"Ah, ah, Elain."

He speaks her name like a prayer, like salvation wrapped up in a single sound. His hips rise, looking for more friction, and the attempt makes her pull back. She is in charge, not him. Lucien groans, sitting up properly. He sighs, and above her, the quills begin to scribble once more.

He's getting it, she hums to herself, amused.

Elain leans forward, kissing the root of his erection. Her warm breath curls over his skin. She presses her lips along its length until she reaches the top and tongues beneath the skin to taste the salty-sweet of his precome. She lingers there for a bit, listening to the heavy breaths of her husband as he reigns in his desire. Then, when she's satisfied, she trails back down towards his balls. Each one is taken whole in her mouth, sucked lovingly. She nips at the skin; she gets to enjoy him in a new way today, entirely at her own pace and without his distractions.

Her husband is an impatient man, and a giving man, which means that she cannot have him on display like this—which means that she has never had him at her mercy. He squirms when the cool air hits his saliva-slicked balls.

"Keep playing with them," he pleads, but he is not in control here. The only thing Elain cares to hear is whether or not he is enjoying himself.

"Elain, you will be the death of me." He pauses, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "You give me life."

Another kiss graces Lucien's tip. Then, Elain spreads her lips to take him into her mouth. She cannot take him whole, not on the first try, and her throat seizes around him. She has to pull back.

"Fuck," he growls.

Elain tries again.

His cock slides into the warmth of her throat, and she holds him there. Just a little more. She just has to figure out how to take a little more of him. Thinking about it doesn't help, but she knows she has to measure her breath. She knows that she has to simply enjoy this.

Her fingers slip between her legs, feeling the moist patch at the centre of her undergarments. Outside the pink fabric, Elain applies pressure. A soft pulsing rhythm to distract her. The more she toys with herself, the more willing she is to open her mouth, to coax that fluttering muscle at the back of her mouth to yield for her husband's thick length.

"Are you playing with yourself?" He asks from above. "I can smell you, my sweet flower."

"Mhm."

"Fuck. I can just see it, my love. I could come on the very thought of you fingering yourself for me, so you can take me deeper."

Elain stops, wincing her eyes shut. She could come on the words spilling from that damned mouth of his and he isn't trying. (She has come on his words alone.) Breath heavy, she swallows him to the root.

And then, she simply stays there.

"I want to fuck your mouth," Lucien complains. "I want to fuck your mouth. Fuck. You feel so good." His fingers curl into the desk, scraping at the wood. There is a long moment where he seems at war with himself, debating whether to give into his desire for this beautiful, wonderful woman at his feet, but he proves himself to be the better male.

Lucien gets to work. Elain remains between his legs, warming his cock with her mouth. She stops toying with herself. Instead, she leans her cheek against his thigh and waits. Occasionally, his fingers would reach down to caress her hair—to toy with her ear affectionally—before he finishes what he was writing. Whenever he touches her, Elain's eyes would flutter shut in sheer comfort.

Her eyes flutter shut. Occasionally, Elain will shift her tongue and even the slightest bit of friction will have him hardening once more. Her jaw begins to ache; like magic, he reaches down to massage the tense muscle. His hand trails down her neck, then to her shoulder for a gentle, grateful squeeze.

She hears him without him neeeding to say anything—

What have I done to deserve you?

It's why he will anchor their love in every Court, in every single one of their love languages. For her.

"I'm done," his voice rouses her from her comfortable lull, despite her mouth full of his cock. "Do you—"

Elain sits straighter, gripping his hip with one hand and withdrawing herself from him ever so slightly. She wraps her slender fingers around the base and begins bobbing her head, filling the room with wet, slurping sounds. She hollows her cheeks, sucking her husband's cock to the best of her ability.

"Hnng, my love."

Strands of her hair fall into her face, and before she can pause to tuck them behind her ear, Lucien's already there, gathering her hair in one hand and pulling slightly.

"You'll let me know if I get too rough?"

Elain nods.

Lucien starts to move against her, gently at first. Each thrust into her warm, wet, welcome mouth strikes at her chore. Wetness pools between her legs; she swears that she is ruining the soft carpet beneath her knees, but she has no regrets. None.

She tugs on the hem of his shirt. More, she asks, politely.

The bond nudges at her mind gently. Elain closes her eyes while Lucien fucks her mouth, letting the full breadth of their mating enter her.

She can feel it. Goddesses, she can feel him. She can feel the way her mouth encapsulates the length of his cock—the way her throat flutters around his tip. Each clench sends waves of ecstacy through Lucien, and he fights the urge to grip her hair and properly fuck her.

Oh, that is most definitely a problem.

Elain shifts gears. Using Lucien's thighs as leverage, she ups the pace, bobbing her head on him with fierce determination.

"Elain, ahhhh, Elain. I'm going to come."

Each time she spears herself upon him, the thrust is felt at her core like—like he's fucking both her mouth and her cunt at once. It pulls at her mind in every which way, wearing at her focus. She cannot decide between the high of worshipping Lucien with her mouth or being ridden.

"Let me," Lucien breathes, coaxing her to let him take control with a gentle touch along her jaw.

Elain nods.

His angle shifts, and he cups both her cheeks while driving himself into her. Her pussy clenches, as if trying to grab hold of something that isn't there, but she feels him. Elain slackens her jaw, the only way to take him at this pace. Although he truly, properly fucks her mouth, he's still careful. He never passes the threshold of her throat, never dares choke her; he is delicate in his use of her.

"I'm close, are you—are you sure you don't want me too —ah!"

Her fingers curl around his balls, fondling him. Her touch slips further back towards his perineum, and then, and then—does she dare? Elain presses the pad of one finger against his asshole.

"Elain."

Lucien's reaction is immediate, bucking into her mouth. Warmth floods her, and she has the bitter-sweet taste of his come on her tongue. He pumps into her a couple of more times, hips rolling from the high of ecstacy. When he pulls back, a dribble of saliva and cum escape her lips. She dabs at it, and swallows.

Elain blinks up at him, nothing the expression of surprise on her husband's face. Every time they've made love, he has been the one to take the lead. The fingering trick, that was his that she turned against him and it worked in her absolute favour. She ducks her head, sheepish.

"Don't look at me like that," Lucien grins. He picks her up, carefully placing his hand on her head to protect her from bumping it on the underside of the desk. "It's time for me to return the favour."

"We'll be late for lunch," she says with a deep flush on her cheeks.

"That's not very fair, is it? You've had your fill." Lucien pulls her close, leaning in to breathe into her ear. "Shall I save you for dessert then?" He squeezes her hands as he nips the lobe of her ear, just below the pretty fox earrings her sisters had gotten her for her last birthday. "Next time, don't swallow. I want to taste us." Lucien kisses her anyway.

Oh, oh, her face burns.

"Lucien!"

She smacks his shoulder, but takes a note for next time. There is much opportunity to explore herself and her husband. Some would say, there is an eternity ahead of them.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 26, 2 juillet 1898, Paris. Notre patron découpé (Grandeur naturelle). Jupon de dessous. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Explications du Patron découpé:

Ce modèle très élégant se fait en soie, avec volant coupé en forme et plissé; il peut se faire également en alpage, moire de laine ou satin de laine avec volant uni ou garni de dentelle.

Il se compose de 4 morceaux:

No. 1. — Lé du devant; se taille double sans couture, c'est-à dire le milieu du devant au lacé sur le plis de l'étone.

No. 2. — Lé de côté; se raccorde au lé du devant à AB.

No. 3. — Lé du dos entièrement droit fil; se raccorde au lé de côté par CD.

Un pointillé sur chaque lé marque l'endroit où doit être cousu le volant.

No. 4. — Volant; se raccorde au lé du devant à E, au lé du dos à F.

Ce morceau est donné en patron d'une seule pièce; mais comme il est impossible de pouvoir le couper d'un seul morceau dans les étoffes de petite largeur, nous donnons sur le croquis la façon de le prendre dans une étoffe de 0m,56 de large.

1re partie; se taille double droit fil, le milieu du devant sur le pli de l'étoffe.

2e partie GHIJ; se prend entre les deux lisières.

3e partie IJ; se prend sur la lisière.

Ce volant pour être en plissé devra être posé sur l'étoffe préparée d'avance, les plis plus larges dans le bas que dans le haut.

7 mètres de soie en 0m,56 avec volant plat; 11 mètres avec volant plissé.

Le patron n'étant donné que jusqu'à la monture du volant, ajouter pour continuer le bas du jupon: 1er lé milieu du devant FK 0m,29; couture du côté LB, 0m,31. Largeur du bas, 0m,27.

2e lé: couture LB, 0m,31; couture MD, 0m39. Largeur du bas 0m,44.

3e lé: couture MD, 0m,39; couture FN, 0m,52. Largeur du bas, 0m,44.

—

This very elegant model is made of silk, with a shaped and pleated ruffle; it can also be made in alpine, wool moire or wool satin with a plain ruffle or trimmed with lace.

It consists of 4 pieces:

No. 1. — Front strip; is double cut without seam, that is to say the middle of the front laced on the folds of the etone.

No. 2. — Side strip; connects to the front strip at AB.

No. 3. — Back strip completely straight grain; connects to the side strip via CD.

A dotted line on each strip marks the place where the ruffle should be sewn.

No. 4. — Steering wheel; connects to the front strip at E, to the back strip to F.

This piece is given as a one-piece pattern; but as it is impossible to be able to cut it in a single piece in fabrics of small width, we give in the sketch how to take it from a fabric 0.56 m wide.

Part 1; cut double straight grain, the center of the front on the fold of the fabric.

2nd part GHIJ; is caught between the two edges.

3rd part IJ; gets caught on the edge.

To be pleated, this ruffle must be placed on the fabric prepared in advance, with the pleats wider at the bottom than at the top.

7 meters of silk in 0.56 m with flat ruffle; 11 meters with pleated ruffle.

Since the pattern is only given up to the flounce frame, add to continue the bottom of the petticoat: 1st center front strip FK 0m.29; seam on LB side, 0m.31. Bottom width, 0m.27.

2nd strip: seam LB, 0.31 m; MD sewing, 0m39. Bottom width 0.44 m.

3rd strip: MD seam, 0.39 m; FN seam, 0m.52. Bottom width, 0.44 m.

[macaiv]

hi love have you heard this?https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0j2r605

unfortunately i wasn't able to listen to the whole thing but thanks to the esteban ocon sub i got to listen to the super interesting part is around the 12:30 mark

also i'm taking jolyon palmer's statement with a huge grain of salt because in what world is carlos a 'compliant 2nd driver' lmao

Hi! from the Ocon subreddit? Hehe that was me who posted it 😅😆

Esteban totally had a slip of the tongue moment there lol and I stopped taking what palmer said seriously after what he said about sainz 😆

Edit: For those wondering:

In the F1: Chequered Flag podcast, Rosanna Tennant asked Esteban this question: "Some people might think that it's a relief for you leaving Alpine after the inner turmoil at the team? Do you see it that way?"

Esteban answered: "It came at a good moment that i'll be driving somewhere else for next year..." "I will announce when the time is right, in due course like I said in my statement. I said everything that I had to say there, there is nothing new."

The first part of his answer is quite interesting...

[lichenaday]

Xylographa parallela

Black woodscript lichen

Some lichens are obviosuly like, a thing TM. But lots of lichens are extremely discrete--like you probably see them all the time and don't realize that they are anything, nonetheless the incredible symbiotic super organisms they are! X. parallela grows immersed in rotting logs, stumps, fenceposts, and wooden rails, and is usually only visible as ellipsoid, discolored stains or small blisters following the pattern of the wood grain. If you notice it at all, you would probably think it's just normal rot or weathering. And then if you recognize that it's a lichen, it is extremely difficult to identify from other members of the genus. But in general, it can be recognized by its yellow to dark brown-black, linear ascomata which are longer than they are wide and develop in clusters, brown gonicysts (asexual propagules) speckling the surface, and habitat of growing on conifers in arctic-alpine and boreal habitats. Now that you know what you are looking for, you will start to see lichens like X. paralella everywhere, trust me. And how great is that? Getting to see little friends everywhere you go. It makes the world both so much bigger and so much more familiar than you have ever imagined.

images: source | source

info: source | source