#bowtie's stash

[bowtiestash]

artfight attack for @garnetdawn

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of the Heart: Chapter 32 (human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Fingering, nudity, consent is sexy

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You and Alastor walked down the boardwalk, fingers woven together as your hands swung between you. The stars glittered above while the waves softly caressed the sandy beach. The moon was as bright as the eyes of young lovers to every person they passed, though few were out at the late hour. 

You chewed your lip as you listened to Alastor’s stories of his boyhood and the love of his mother while you kept stealing glances down at the hand holding yours. It was the very same hand that had coaxed you to indecency in a very public place. 

“And then the moon was green,” Alastor said, his words filtering through your brain, a relaxing sound that didn’t process in any meaningful way. “We rode horses to the castle.” 

“What?” Your eyes snapped to his. It was very clear that he had caught you listening but not absorbing his words. “I’m sorry, Alastor. I-” 

He turned to face you, snagging up your hands in his as he pulled you through a few simple dance steps, though there was no music to match it. Your eyes glanced down at the bite mark on his neck, clearly standing out from his open collar. 

There was no hiding what it was, and it had earned the pair of you looks as you walked through the throngs of people. Everyone knew what it was and from the smudge of pink still on his neck and the way he held onto your hand, they knew it was you who placed it there. 

As promised, he wore it with pride. He could have buttoned up his collar, put his bowtie on. You knew he had it stashed in his pocket. It wouldn’t be enough to cover it, hide it during the day, but with the long shadows of night, it would probably be alright. 

He didn’t try at all to hide it. 

“You seem distracted,” Alastor said as he danced you down the path, slowly leading you to your home for the weekend. You wanted it to be your home forever. It was a place where it was just you and Alastor, no one else. “Your mind on something else?” 

“Oh, I- I’ve just had my head in the clouds,” 

Alastor chuckled as he continued to dance. “The clouds? Perhaps I’m imagining your eyes on my neck where your mark seems to be clear as day.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I’m-” 

Alastor continued talking over you as he twirled you around, picking you up at times and swinging your legs through the air. “There will be no doubt to anyone that I’ve got a girl to call me hers.” 

It was such a unique way to word it. You’d often heard men speak about their partners, spouses, wives in ways that hinted at ownership and possession. Hearing him speak as if you could possess him, hold him in the palms of your hands, gave that power to you. 

“You’re mine?” you whispered, not meaning to say it. 

“I am,” Alastor said, leaning down and kissing you softly. “Yours. Only yours.”

“I wish I was only yours.” You hated the crack in your soft voice as you kept your eyes on him, trusting him to move you through the world safely. 

“You are,” Alastor whispered between kisses, “He just doesn’t know you’re not his anymore, yet.” 

Your back hit a light pole, not hard but sudden enough that you gasped. He pressed up against you, lips ghosting over your neck as he kissed his way to your ear. 

“Alastor?” 

“You’re not his anymore, not really.” His fingers gripped your hips as he kissed you deeply, leaving you gulping for air as he pulled away. “I can’t wait for the day when you’re no longer his.” 

“Do you ever think it’ll really happen?” you asked as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“I do,” Alastor whispered. “I will not allow him to hurt you for the rest of your life. But that’s enough of him for tonight.” 

“What do you- oh,” Alastor’s lips moved along your jaw until he captured your earlobe between his lips. He ran his teeth over the soft flesh, reveling in the way you gasped and moved against him. 

“You think I didn’t notice how you keep looking at my neck?” He pulled away, tucking your arm under his as he began leading you down the walkway toward the Villa in the distance. He spoke as if it was the most conversational topic in the world, leaning into your ear to ensure you heard every soft word he said. 

“Do you enjoy the thought of me walking around wearing a mark left by you while you were in the heights of passion?” Alastor didn’t wait for you to answer, knowing you’d struggle to form a sentence if he kept such thoughts at the forefront of your mind. 

He knew he should let you rest, let your emotions rest with how much he had already pulled from you this weekend, but he couldn’t help wanting to touch you again. The sounds you made, the way you flushed as you came undone, it was addicting. 

He longed for it almost as much as he longed for the hunt. It sounded so sweet in his ears, tasted rich on his tongue. If he could just have you, maybe he could put down his hobby. Maybe he wouldn’t need the thrill of the hunt if he had you to come home to.

It wasn’t likely. He knew that. It was love talking, singing its song in his ears, but for a moment he believed it. 

It didn’t change how badly he wanted to see you, feel you come undone. Holding himself back, trying to give your body time to recover from each wave of pleasure, was driving him mad. 

He hadn’t expected the feeling of your teeth sinking into his flesh to pull such a reaction from him. It hurt, sure, but not nearly enough to stop the shiver that ran down his spine or the need that sparked in his abdomen. 

“I saw how you watched me lick the sugar from my fingers. What were you thinking of at that moment? Was that why you were already slick with want before my hands were even on you?” 

You were crumbling now, and for Alastor, it was a delight to watch. It was adorable how you kept your eyes trained forward, not daring to look at him. He didn’t need your eyes on him to tell him how he was working you up again. The flush on your face, shallow breaths and the way you kept wetting your lips with that pretty tongue of yours told him all he needed to know. 

Alastor unlocked the door as you stood stiffly by his side. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he wrapped you up in his arms. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you so much,” Alastor whispered before kissing you deeply, not waiting to hear if he had caused offense. The way your arms wrapped around his neck, body stretching up in a adorable attempt to match his height, told him that if he did, you were aroused enough to forgive him for it. 

“You fluster me so,” you whisper as you came up for air. “I’m not used to such brazen attention.” 

“It’s only fair. You fluster me.” Alastor said, pulling the cord to light the lamp by the door. 

“I can’t imagine anyone flustering you,” you breathed the worlds, head tilted back as Alastor kissed along your throat. 

He was fighting the urge to do more than lick the skin. He could wear your marks and would, with pride, but he couldn’t leave any on you. What would it feel like to sink his teeth into your shoulder? To pull the muscle into his mouth and feel it flex as you writhed under him. 

Feeling a stirring, he slowed his thoughts, focusing on you. Your pleasure was what mattered, what he was chasing. He didn’t need to deal with his own body’s traitorous responses, so he willed his heart rate to slow. 

This was about you. Your pleasure. Your needs. He was on a mission to erase every memory of your husband’s brutal hands during this weekend. He would see to it that you struggled to even remember the name of the man you were married to. 

It was the least he could do. It was all he could do at the moment, at least. 

“You fluster me more than you know.” Alastor walked you deeper into the room, nimble fingers working the buttons free at the front of your dress. 

He didn’t need you bare, naked to see to your needs, but he wanted you to be. Your body was something he wished to gaze upon. This was the last night he had where he could hold you, bare skin against his chest as he watched you sleep in the safety of his arms. 

He wanted to map out every blemish and mark along your skin. He wanted the memorize the way you sighed in your sleep, the way your lips would part. The way you felt tucked into his arms was something he needed to learn so that he could spend his nights thinking about it, haunted by it.

With a brush of his hands, your dress slipped down, cascading to the floor. You nearly tripped over it while stepping back. His lips found yours again as he worked his way to the couch, tugging your half slip down lower and lower off your hips until it too fell to the ground. 

“Alastor,” you moaned his name as you worked at his buttons, wanting to feel him under your hands again. He wanted to hear you moan his name again. 

“Mine,” he mumbled into your shoulder as he pulled you down onto the couch with him. 

“Yours,” you gasped as his hands roamed over your body, caressing your ribs and back as he moved you to lie back.

Long fingers slipped under the back of your bra. “May I?” 

Your heart beat in your chest. This would be the night, you were sure of it, that Alastor would take you as a man takes a wife. You would feel what it was to lie with him in sin. It should have sent you running, but instead all it did was have you panting, eager to experience what it could be like, though it would be a lie if you said you were not a little afraid of the pain that would come with it.

“Yes,” you finally answered. 

He unlatched the band easily, scooping the straps off your shoulders. As the silk bra fell to the ground in front of the couch, you folded your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t hide from me,” Alastor said as he pulled your hands away by the wrists. You didn’t fight it, but you couldn’t bear looking at him as he looked at you. “You’re okay,” he kissed you softly. “I won’t do anything to hurt you.” 

Alastor chuckled as you relaxed. He peppered the ridge of your clavicle with soft kisses. Your back arched, pressing your front into him as he guided your body back against the couch. A blush dusted your cheeks as he pulled back. Ever the timid thing, you wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

The position was much like the one he had sat in, seemingly forever ago when he had first tested the waters of physical intimacy with you, only reversed. He had first touched you and showed you the pleasure you had been denied for so long that night. 

He folded over you as his lips worked down your chest. You wanted to cover yourself, but your hands rested on his arms as his lips explored the skin he had yet to touch. 

Warm breath washed over your nipple as you looked at the ceiling. That didn’t bother Alastor in the slightest as he warped his lips around the pebbled nub, enclosing it in an open-mouthed kiss. 

You struggled to think as he worked your nipple in a series of lavishing kisses that left you thinking about how he had worked your slit with his mouth the night before. The moan that slipped from your lips could have come from the memory or the way he caressed your other breast. Before you could decide which, he started kissing down your stomach. 

“Can these go too?” Alastor asked, running his fingers over the edge of your panties. 

“Okay.” 

You lifted your hips as his fingers worked under the hem of the last remaining fabric protecting any bit of your modesty. It wasn’t like they were protecting anything he hadn’t seen already. That ship had sailed. 

Alastor guided the garment down your legs and sent it to the floor. Strong hands ran up your legs as you finally braved looking at him. The sight he made stole what little breath you still had from your lungs. 

His hair was messy, the humidity from the ocean was waging a battle with the curls he had worked so hard to straighten. You wanted to run your hands through it, but if you moved, you were sure you’d wake from the dream you had to be in. 

He knelt, calfs between your ankles as he leaned forward, between your knees. His shirt was hanging open, not nearly open enough for your liking. You wanted him as bare as you. 

“You’re magnificent,” he whispered, voice so naked and him, as it had been so often since you had arrived at the little coastal town. His eyes were dragging over every part of you. “Did you know that?”

You didn’t know if you believed it, too many times had you been told your curves were too much or not in the right places. The way Alastor looked at you, the nakedness in his voice and the warmth in his eyes dared you to believe it. The soothing touch running up your legs as he parted your knees more dared you to challenge him on it. 

“Will you let me indulge in you again tonight?” Alastor asked as he blanketed over you, supporting himself with a hand placed on the back of the couch near your head while he ran his other hand slowly up your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns. “Or would that be too much for you tonight?”

Reaching out, you ran your hand up his chest. Strong muscles flexed under your hand, but what drew your attention was the way his heart hammered in his chest. With every move he made, you could feel his muscles jump as you ran hands over him, pulling at his shirt and fighting with buttons until it was hanging open. He was so hot under your hands as you tried to take in all of him. The heat of his body soaked into you as your breasts brushed against his chest. 

Feeling bold, you leaned up and placed soft kisses along his neck. You could just feel the start of stubble as you worked your way to his jaw, wrapping your arms around his back, under his shirt to help pull you closer and support your weight. As you went, he shifted and turned his head, allowing your lips to travel as you wished. 

Ghosting touches traveled down, feeling every flex and twitch of his abdomen and back. His shirt ghosted against your breasts as he gave you room to move, teasing her nipples with the ever so slight touches. 

“Please?” You whispered as your fingers ghosted over his belt buckle. Bold, he was making you feel safer, bolder. You wanted more. It didn’t matter if it hurt as long as it was with him. “Is it mad that I want you to keep touching me? Is it wrong?” Your tongue darted out as you placed a wet kiss against the marks left by your teeth on his neck. 

Alastor groaned as his hand stroked a path of fire down your inner thigh. He looked so good with his eyes closed, face flushed ever so slightly. Did you look good to him as you had your head tossed back in pleasure? Is that why he kept touching you?

As his fingers caressed over your slit, you found it hard to support the weight of your head. Positions flipped and now it was Alastor’s mouth working over your neck. 

“You’re so wet for me already,” he whispered, “slick spread over your lips just waiting for me to delve in. How do you want me to make you fall apart tonight?” 

Alastor’s fingers easily slipped through your folds, lewdly wet and waiting for him. The way you gasped had him closing his eyes again, trying to keep his mind on you and your pleasure and willing his body not to awaken. He counted his breaths, teaching each slowly into his lungs as you shuddered under him. 

He wasn’t expecting to find himself twitching, trying to come to life, but it seemed he was still being influenced by the way you had sunk your teeth into his neck still. It was unexpected, but that was to be examined later. Now was about you, having you writhing in pleasure under him as you panted his name. 

“You,” you whispered, face aflame as his fingers sank deeper, easily finding and breaching your opening, stretching you two wide from the start. 

“You have me, my darling.” 

Gasping, your back arched as his fingers spread you wide. You were more relaxed under his touch this time, Alastor was pleased to find. He knew it was pushing things for you to take two at once from the very start, but oh; you were far more ready for him tonight. You squelched around his fingers as your back arched. 

“Alastor,” you whined as his fingers flexed and curled inside you, caressing walls he had no right to touch. Sensations and pleasure had your head spinning with each flex of his fingers. All you could do was hold on to Alastor’s arm and try to ground yourself. What shame you had was dissolving with each time you whined his name. 

“You look so good like this,” Alastor praised, leaning forward and down, kissing you soundly. After he swallowed enough of your sounds, he pulled back and continued, “Just for me.” 

“Just you,” you repeated as he pulled you closer to the cliff, not really aware of what you were saying. “Only you.”

You ran your hands over skin until Alastor trapped one in the hand he was using to support himself. You did your best to take in the feel of him, moaning deeply as a third finger entered you, spreading you wider. 

“You take my fingers so well,” Alastor murmured as you panted, arching and twitching under him. Your desire poured from around his fingers. His name sounded like music when you panted it.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the way he enjoyed bringing you to the edge, only to hold you there for as long as he could, feeling your walls fluttering around his hand. Drawing it out wasn’t something he usually sought to do. With you, he didn’t want the moment to end. 

Typically, Alastor would see to it his partner finished once, perhaps a second time, if he was feeling generous and send her on her way. If he was lucky, he could keep himself to just hands and mouths and get the job done quickly. 

With you though? He had to breathe through the way your walls gripped his fingers, struggling to keep himself in check as he tested how long he could hold you there. He longed to kiss you, to taste you, to feel you around him. 

Why was it different with you? Alastor watched as your lips parted, eyes squeezing shut as you fluttered faster around his fingers when he reached deeper. You squelched, loud and lewd, as he worked his fingers in and out, faster, harder. 

Kissing you hadn’t been his intention, but somehow he was leaning closer, arm twitching as he continued to support his weight to allow him room to move. He kneed your legs further apart and now you were so lost in the pleasure he gave that they spread easily, allowing him to better run the palm of his hand over your clit. 

You ran your free hand around his neck and down his shoulder before you were greedily taking in his chest. Strong. He was so strong. Clear defined muscles he kept hidden under his shirts and blazers. How he could be so strong and so lean, you didn’t know. 

Kissing sloppily down his jaw, your lips found his neck. You were so close now to that breaking fall that he seemed to keep sending you over. 

“Please, Al-Alastor,” your lips moved against his throat as he seemed to stretch over you, chin up and head pulled back as he worked. Your fingers ran down his abdominals and along the hem of his pants. You could feel the tufts of hair, ever so slight and reaching toward his navel. 

You kissed his neck as you reached, fingers caressing his belt buckle. The place you had bitten on his neck was easy enough to find. The marks left by your teeth were raised under your lips. Temptation won out, and you left open-mouthed kisses that had you running your teeth over the place. 

“Oh!” Alastor jerked as his fingers twisted up, hitting something that had you seeing stars and convulsing under him. “Come for me,” Alastor urged, as if you were not already falling. 

Your fingers flexed, digging into the palm of the hand he had restrained. What Alastor wasn’t prepared for was the way your fingers flexed and twitched along his pants, dipping between his abdomen and the fabric. 

Aftershocks rocked your body as he pulled away from you, pulling his hips out of your reach. He sat back, fingers slipping from your twitching hole as he looked down at you and willed his body to calm only somewhat successfully.

You sat up, satiated, and yet still wanting in a way you couldn’t explain while you watched him lick his fingers clean. Wasting no time, you ran your hands up his chest and pulled his shirt down, letting it hang around his elbows. 

He watched you, lewdly running his tongue over his slick fingers and groaning at the taste of you. Focused on his breathing as you slid your very naked body against his chest. 

You moaned at the feeling of his skin against your overheated torso. What you were doing, you didn’t know. It was like something had possessed your body, instinct or a demon, you didn’t know as you pressed your breasts into him.

He was strong under your hands as they ran down his chest, back and sides. Lips worked over his neck as you tried to get a reaction from the man that was currently largely frozen in place, eyes closed and taking slow breaths. 

“Have you not had enough?” Alastor asked as he pulled away only for you to follow. 

“No,” you whispered, as your hand moved lower, caressing, until you pulled the end of his belt from the loops. “Have you really?” 

“Wait,” Alastor’s voice was naked, shattered as he grabbed your hands. “Stop.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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[thedivineflowers]

HII!! My first time requesting so I feel a little silly, I love your works and as a former middle schooler I love thinking of these silly dudes as my brothers and I can imagine it really well through your writing and your humor is just like mine! In your parental terms fic I read Azul offer us a job at Mostro lounge and I honestly wanna know the daily activities and goofiness that happens on our work shifts😭 feel free to decline this I can’t wait for you deuces mom fic!<3🙈

Ofc ofc and I won't decline this masterpiece bb.

School night:

Clocking in at work:

When you clock in at work you gotta be early and then go to Azul's VIP room so you can tell him about the bitch who stole your test answers and eat your snack.

If you don't clock in at the right time you will be called and texted multiple times and hunted down by the twins who are just as worried about you as Azul.

When you're done with your snack you go change into your work uniform which is the dorm uniform but you have a lounge pin on your bowtie which has a tracker so Azul can keep an eye on you. And you also get your own version of Azul's coat because I know it's cold as fuck in that damn lounge.

Near beginning of shift:

If at any point you have to take a break not even one madol will be taken off your payment no matter how long your break is.

And ofc you goof off and you're allowed to be mean to the customers.

"Hey, I wanted clams not crabs!" A customer shouted at you. "AND I WANTED A SEA PONY, LIFE AINT FAIR." You shouted at the customer and threw a knife and fork on their plate.

You and Floyd are allowed to throw people out of the Lounge and you two mostly throw people out together.

You hold the person by their hands and Floyd holds them by their feet. You start swinging the person towards the opened lounge doors. "One..." You started "Two..." Floyd said "THREE!!" You both shouted at the same time and threw the ex customer out and closed the door with a satisfied sigh.

And sometimes if you can or want to Azul would host shows for you to entertain the audience and get more Madol 😈😈😈. And to make the school fear you. 🧍‍♂️

Middle of shift:

At this time you get a thirty minute break. You mostly get your breaks with the twins so they mostly take you to go feed the sea animals and try to help you with your homework if you have any. Or if you have nothing to do you go bother the other workers and scare them. More than half of them bitches are scared of your feral ass so you just gotta do some oogly boogly shit and theyll be saying sorry.

When your break ends you have to go back to work. But you are left in charge of the lounge when Jade and Floyd have to go observe a deal with Azul. So you mostly have customers complain to you while the twins are away and you get this time to mess with them if it's something stupid.

And most of the time is stuff about how they did not like the food when they just wanted to not pay for their food. They say this while they're paying and then demand a whole ass refund so you go into the secret monopoly money stash and give it to them saying it's limited edition madol. 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

And sometimes Azul himself will come in to see how things are doing and will chat with the guests but he's just watching and making sure that you're alright and don't need a break cause dawg you're a fucking kid working a whole ass job trying to get paid more than what Crowley gives you and you got all this stuff to do bro you couldn't even enjoy being a kid anymore when you first met the old ass man😔 😒.

Near the end of the shift:

At this time it's when the lounge starts closing up and people start leaving and this means extra money and coins to snatch 😈😈. You find about 500 madol lying around throughout the lounge and Azul says you can keep it most of the time.

And around this time Azul has you eat your dinner and calm down after working and you change out of your uniform right when the clock hits 9 (idfk so ima take a guess and say nine through ten at night). And when Azul makes sure your homework is completed and correct you'd be allowed to do whatever.

And sometimes it's too late to be walking out by yourself so Azul and the twins have you sleep in your own dorm room over there and if Grims with you he has his own bed and blankets next to yours. (It was demanded that the cat gets a bed by you or else you'd go bat shit around Azul's office. 🧍‍♂️) and you have your own matching pajama set that's similar to Azul so after you're done getting ready for bed you'd go in Azul's office sometimes to keep him company and drag him to his room because his eyebags look this close to being able to hold a whole fucking Walmart.

Weekend:

Clocking in:

It's morning time and you're ass is waking up at fucking 10 in the morning because you slept at 4 and almost pulled an all nighter.

You have to go to Azul's office when you wake up or else Azul will give you the day off to sleep and gaggle around.

And when you finish eating your breakfast and waking up you get to change into your uniform and choose what you want to do, paper work, keeping Azul company, or working with the twins.

You still get paid so 💃.

But sometimes Azul will have you turn into a merfolk by drinking a potion and you get to swim around the aquarium and spook the customers.

Middle of shift:

You get your break and your lunch to eat and it's free because you were able to say hello to Lucious the other day during the animal speech class.

And after that you get to do whatever you want or you could go and observe one of Azul's contract agreements thingies with the twins.

And if they try to like swing at Azul you get to go batshit and drag them outside while Azul cleans up his office for his next contract.

Near end of shift:

This time it's a little later which is 10 at night and you all clean up yiddy yadda but you get more extra change because you performed earlier.

Then you get to change out of your uniform once Azul tells you and you immediately have to take a shower then get ready for bed because you don't know when you're gonna sleep.

And obviously have no homework (🤮🤮 EEWWWWW) so you get stay up worh Azul and the twins watching national geographic, cooking shows, extreme cheapskates, boxing matches or basketball games. One of those. And you all end up sleeping on the couch in your room where the TV is (you're fucking spoiled) and sometimes you all would just sit around and gossip but no one knows what goes on in your room but the lights are always on until morning 😨. So far Floyd has taught you how to give a hug bigger than his 🤗. You've sent three people to the infirmary in less than two hours in school.

You obviously stay over because no one wants to go out that fucking late unless you're getting paid to go and rock someones shit 😒.

YEYEYEYEYEYEYYEY

I LOVE THOS SM JWHWBWJWJWJWM

Anyways I hope you like it. I know i was like kinda late I'm still working on the other ones so def look forward to those 😘😘😘

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

more sound of music x good omens. why not.

Hi, Good Omens Mascot here. The ordinary text is Crowley, the (slightly desperate /ref) italics are Aziraphale, and the bold is both of them. Sigh.

Raindrops on your wings, and starfall on mine Bright copper hair... and warm sushi, divine! Dining at the Ritz and warm picnics in spring... These are a few of our favourite things You in your dresses, our alcohol stashes Your pleading eyes when you flutter your lashes (Oh, Crowley, I don't do that) (Yes you do, angel) A cottage in the country, one day, wedding rings... These are a few of our favourite things Cream-coloured bowties and fussy waistcoats Your little smirk, and your love for those goats (Angel.) (Hush, dear) Long midnight flights with the moon on our wings These are a few of our favourite things When Hell calls, when Heaven's comments sting Or when we're feeling sad We simply remember our favourite things And then we don't feel... so bad.

Maybe when I'm not ill and miserable I'll record these and put them on the cursed Youtube channel. Who knows? Wait and see.

I love you, maggots.

[canon-can-fight-me]

Drabblecember Day 9: A Walk Outside

Okay listen. Is it like ten days after the ninth? Yes. But I was too busy to write that day and this prompt was really cute so I wanted to post something for it 🥺

875 words

Pairing: Kai3po (pre-dating)

He was so tired.

While promised that the event wouldn’t go on for long, and that he was sure to be an invaluable asset to the mission, Threepio served little purpose that night other than to be his former master’s coatrack. Granted, he was told to be on standby, should his services be needed, but at this point it appeared whatever Anakin and Obi Wan assumed was going to happen at the gala was nothing to warrant the lightsabers securely stashed away. The night had drone on for long enough, and while no verbal or physical labor had been required of him, he felt exhaustion coupled with utter loneliness. Standing still for hours, let alone with no one eager to use him for the one thing he was good for, was upsetting. That is, until his attention was brought to a flash of scarlet, in the form of a shiny red dress. The owner of said dress a familiar, not completely unwelcome sight.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely.”

He turned to see Kaiyo grinning, gesturing to the bowtie Anakin had fastened to him earlier that evening. It had gone a tad crooked at this point.

“Thank you…you look quite radiant yourself.”

“I know,” she teased, darting her head around before facing him again. “Did you come by yourself, or is your date just in the restroom?”

He mimicked a scoff. “I do not have a “date”. Master Anakin asked me to accompany him and Obi Wan here for a mission, supposedly…although I’m unsure why my presence is even necessary at this point.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” She jerked her head towards his shoulder, suit jacket draped over.

“I believe that further proves my point.” He said.

“Well…if you’re not too occupied, maybe you could join me outside for a walk?” She sighed dramatically. “It’s so stuffy in here, not even the food is worth staying for. You’d think with how wealthy the owners are they’d at least have a decent menu.”

“A-As lovely as that sounds, I must remain here. What if I’m needed?”

“I’m sorry, how long have you been standing here doing absolutely nothing? Two hours?”

“…Three.“

“Oh, you poor thing.” She took hold of his arm, tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

“I must remind you, that as a droid I do not require ‘fresh air’.”

————————

He hadn’t protested much. Keyword much, though he knew realistically Kaiyo saw through his protests and was aware he was grateful for an excuse to take a break. While unaccustomed to the chilly night air, he slowly started to prefer it to the stuffiness of the ballroom.

“Soooo, what’s this mission about, exactly?”

“I can’t tell you that! It would go against my protocol to reveal such information.”

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“They didn’t tell you much of anything, did they?”

“Well—“ he began to protest, “I—um, of course they did…”

Kaiyo gave a small laugh, her suspicions all but confirmed.

Heat ran through his faceplate, and he glanced away.

“L-Let’s not talk about that. I’m rather curious to know what you’re doing here.”

She shrugged.

“You have your mission, I have mine. Let’s just say I wasn’t able to gather the intel I was looking for.” She pressed her lips together, hoping he wouldn’t question further. He wasn’t always adept at picking up cues, but he had someone grown to recognize her tells. One of which, he noticed, was what he understood was the natural human response to the cold: shivering. He could tell she was trying to power through it, slightly increasing her pace, and he wondered why she didn’t simply suggest going back inside.

“Kaiyo…” he began.

She paused, turning back to face him, eyes widening when she realized that she had outpaced him by quite a few feet in an attempt to generate heat.

“Oh, sorry! Am I walking too fast?”

“Well yes, but—“ she hurried back to his side as he spoke, “I was going to point out that you seem cold.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “It’s pretty chilly…”

Wordlessly, Threepio slowly slid Anakin’s suit jacket off his shoulder, gently placing it around Kaiyo’s shoulders.

“Oh!” Kaiyo glanced up at him, further burying herself in the jacket. “Are you sure Anakin won’t mind?”

“I’m sure if he needed it, he would have asked for it back by now,” Threepio explained. Kaiyo nodded, a small smile gracing her face. Threepio forced himself to look away.

She had no business looking so cute.

He thought if he just avoided looking at her, focused his gaze on the grass, the sky, anything else, that the rush of energy through his circuits would subside. That is, until she seemingly read his mind and decided to make it worse.

Granted, while she could technically read some minds (a perk of her mastery of the Force), he thanked the maker that such a trick didn’t work on droids.

But as she reached to adjust his bowtie, patting it down slightly with a satisfied smile that made him feel like his circuits were melting, he wasn’t so sure.

All he knew is that he was pleased that he had decided to walk with her that evening.

[cricketnationrise]

23:59

Kensington Palace

Alex Claremont-Diaz

have some resolved pining for your Friday afternoon since I got off work early! enjoy 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? 3 days left, rules here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

Alex nods his thanks to Shaan and slips inside Henry’s rooms. Henry’s been stuck doing event after appearance after fundraiser for the last three weeks and Alex couldn’t take it anymore.

The first week wasn’t so bad – plenty of texting and nightly Skype sessions and a new, secret (extra secure) email chain had been enough. The second week was harder – pining for the feeling of Henry next to him in bed was bad enough, but watching David pine was too much even for the least emotionally demonstrative person in the world. (Zahra had cooed at David when she dropped off Alex’s itinerary. Cooed. Alex didn’t even know she could make that noise.)

By the beginning of the third week, Alex wasn’t sleeping more than a few hours a night, barely remembering to eat, and was generally all kinds of a mess of a person. When he’d broken down and emailed Shaan, the relief in his response confirmed that Henry was having just as hard a time. Alex booked the plane tickets the same minute Shaan said he would help Alex surprise Henry.

Henry’s at some sort of gala fundraiser event for Bea’s charity tonight, and it runs late enough that Alex isn’t worried about getting to his rooms before him, despite his plane’s late night arrival time. Shaan, efficient, wonderful Shaan had met him and the Secret Service at Heathrow with a private car and whisked them away to Kensington as soon as Alex had collected his suitcase.

But now he’s here, in Henry’s suite, the smell of Henry’s cologne wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He stashes his clothes and toiletries, changes into pajamas and then pulls out the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Alex always denies owning, let alone reading. He’s determined to keep himself awake until Henry gets back, and falls into the story, letting Elizabeth’s commentary entertain him.

A gentle hand on his shoulder pulls Alex back into the waking world and he looks up and smiles sleepily at Henry. He looks stupidly handsome in his tux – something about the undone bowtie is really doing it for him.

“Hey, baby.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes, face suffused with wonder. “You’re here? But—”

“Cleared my schedule. Couldn’t stand it any longer. Missed you too much,” Alex murmurs, letting his head tip to the side and rest on Henry’s arm, gazing up at him adoringly. Henry’s here.

“Christ, it’s good to see you. Come to bed, love.”

Alex lets Henry help him up, but draws him into a hug and a gentle, sleepy kiss before shuffling to the bed. For once, Henry just throws his clothes onto the nearby chair and slides under the sheets with Alex as soon as he’s down to his briefs. Alex practically melts when Henry throws an arm over his waist and drags him closer. This – this contact, this comfort, this love – that’s what Alex has been missing the most.

[justicefanged]

"Well now, who is this?" Though he had approached the young man with goodie-bag in hand, the moment Sigurd laid eyes on the puppy he had become distracted, depositing the goodie-bag into Linus's hands to kneel to the dog's level, smooshing the dog's cheeks affectionately. "I had seen that we would be expecting a four-legged friend, but I hadn't expected such a good boy!" 

(The bag is of a plush sapphire velvet with braided gold drawstrings. If he were tempted to peek inside, he would find the festive goodies of the typical Chalphy holiday season: roasted nuts coated in a caramelized warming spice mixture, a hand-pulled twisted peppermint stick, decadent candied orange peel, and a holiday cracker to be pulled later with little knick-knacks within.) 

It took a moment of this for Sigurd to recall that he'd also a human guest to attend to, and he rose, laughing, to clap a warm hand on Linus's shoulder. "Welcome, my friend – we have met before, have we not?" Winking, Sigurd recalled the moments he had seen Linus as a blur during trick-or-treating, when he had barreled to his door and snatched handfuls of candy in truly spectacular fashion. "But now you are not here merely as friend, are you? Or, perhaps you are – you are close with my niece, are you not?"   

Sigurd's eyes flicked across the young man in assessment; built hardy and strong, with large calloused hands. But it wasn't the ability to destroy that made a man; it was the ability to create. 

Sigurd smiled. "I hope that the two of you enjoy the party. Ah! Apologies - " He knelt, rubbing the pooch's ears vigorously, "The three of you!" 

Linus barked out a laugh as the goodie bag is handed off to him, and then he's almost completely forgotten in favor of the puppy that had been padding alongside him. He didn't really mind -- after all, puppy's had this effect on a lot of people -- and it gave him a second to poke around in the bag. He pulled out the peppermint stick with a noise of appreciation and promptly shoved it into his mouth; it really wasn't meant to be eaten in such a way, and was sort of awkwardly placed in his mouth, but all it took were a few well placed crunches and that was all sorted.

Honk is ecstatic to be here and get attention right off the bat! The puppy is quick to scramble closer when Sigurd kneels down, doing his best to slobber over the hands that are squishing at his face. His whole body is being wiggled by the forceful wagging of his tail, the little green and red bowtie that has been incorrectly tied around his neck looks like it'll come loose any second.

"Figured it'd be good to let y'all know 'bout him." A rare instance of foresight on Linus' part. "Think we did -- ya know, bit of a fast an' furious first meetin'," he grinned, "Nice to know that first candy run wasn't a fluke!"

At least some rich folks didn't have a problem with sharing their good food around.

Linus swallows at the question -- ah, minty fuck -- coughing a little. "Definitely more than friends, but I dunno if we're at the...y'know...Goin' at her comfort. Whatever, uh--"

Wow, that was weird and awkward, and more than a little embarrassing.

"'M mostly here for, like...if 'Tena needs a quick exit. I want her to have a good time, if she can. You're her family, yeah? That's...important, even if it's also messy and complicated, and a major fuckin' pain in the ass sometimes," Linus huffed out, stashing his opened goodie bag into one of the pockets of his jacket to keep his hands busy.

He was lucky that his brother was alive, that his sister was here. But there were others that were missing. Blood and chosen family alike. There would be no more gatherings like this. No stupid jokes told over cheap ale. No more songs or stories shared by firelight and dancing shadow on sturdy walls that kept cold winds at bay.

Linus wasn't going to have that sort of connection anymore with those of his family that were gone now. But Altena had a chance. Whether it turned out good or bad, he wanted her to be able to make that choice.

"It's a party, what can go wrong?" Linus tries to recover the utter embarrassing sappiness that had been this greeting so far, forcing out a laugh that was too loud. "I'm sure we'll have a blast!"

Honk, who had been exceptionally disappointed that he was not the focus of attention anymore, had been clumsily dancing around the two men's feet while yapping away. He almost bowled himself over in a rampant return of excitement when Sigurd returned to rub at his ears, oversized puppy paws making uncoordinated attempts to hold on to such good scritches.

[gildead]

@dilfsimulator asked:

" You got everything you need for Pasta Night? " Girlfriend asked, carefully buckling the ghost boy into her passenger seat. Good boys get to ride in the front! " Didn't forget anything? "

Bowtie? Check. 'HI' balloons? Check. Pack of UNO cards stashed away in his hoodie? Check!

Then it's about time to get over to the spookiest monthly get-together there is.

Gold gives his babysitter the biggest nod he can manage, followed by a wide grin. He's not planning on putting down the illusion keeping him relatively intact until after they get there, so for now his sleeves flop on either side of the shotgun seat.

He waits for Girlfriend to climb in before turning to her with one question in mind.

"Can we turn on the radio...?"

[jentrissimo]

Gesthros's Death

It was a day like any other, a normal Thursday. I was tending to the needs of the homeless asking for my blessing to get a bit of shelter. I was doing this for a good 43 minutes until I heard some arguing behind the walls of my throne room. Then gunfire broke out. I didn't bother with looking knowing my men are capable of handling themselves.

Then one of my men ran bleeding. He said "Gesthros they've gotten a brute" I got up and walked to my stash and loaded my LeMat revolver. 9 rounds and a shotgun shell. Perfectly engraved to be fanciful and practical. I put on my bowtie and walked out the front. There was gunfire everywhere. I could count at least 4 of my men dead. There was at least 7 officers and the brute. I aimed my first shot and blew the head clean off the first. I ducked as 2 others shot at me. 1 ran up to me trying to do cqc. I flicked the hammer on my revolver and blew them clean apart. There goes the shell. I looked at the others. I could see my men in the apartments readying a rocket launcher to shoot the brute with. I had to buy time. I stood up and taunted them, "over here pigs!" I yelled. They focused on me. I shot another in the head. 3 dead, 4 left. 7 shots. I heard a rocket launch. I watched as the rocket hit the brute completely obliterating it. And as I watched it unfold I heard a sniper shot ring out. A sudden stiffness fell over me. I looked down. My left side was shot. With my last living breaths I shot another officer. I coughed up a chuckle as I fell to the floor.

[gryphons-n-kelpies]

Plot twist: MC takes pictures of Morogh too and has them in a secret box somewhere in their room. Not even Des can find it.

Note to self, he looks handsome from every angle.

If he asks, he gets a boop! That’s it.~

He knows~

And he makes sure that whatever he is doing is ~perfection~ just to impress MC. Let them keep the stash of photos. He doesn't mind them stalking him for secret photos. "Keep thinking of me, my beloved dewdrop~"

Imagine when he's not doing anything important. He's outside and it's drizzling rather lightly. His ears perk up a bit and a smile is gently plastered on his face.

*click*

He unties his bowtie and loosens up the buttons of his collared shirt

*Click Click*

He walks into the rain and lets it fall upon his face. Embracing the feel as it trails down his body. Not caring that his clothes get soaked..

*Click click click*

Maybe... if MC follows him enough, they'd get a rather spicy show~

[bowtiestash]

sleeping amongst the poppies

[bowties8glasses]

what were the biggest influences on your art style?

Oh goodness, this is a easy one for my answer to become 8 different tangents

Art style is just an artist's comfort zone so the answer is really just, other artists. whether that was Little Bowties looking at speedpaints and tutorials (My old blog had a whole stash of resources ways to draw hands, perspectives, comic framing, anything I thought I may ever need in the future) or me just looking at someone's art and going "hey I wanna try something like this". I'd attempt something new and it sometimes affect my art going forward and sometimes it doesn't.

You could probably ask me about a specific part of my art and I'd be able to answer where I got it from, though some I'd rather not say due to the artist behind them turning out to not be very good people, a lot of those from my early days too...

The stuff I played and watched also influenced me in the sense that it's the source of my big catalogue of little design traits, especially for monsters and faces, some are series I still regularly check (Kirby, Pokemon, Sanrio..) some are stuff I haven't thought of much lately but still exist in my subconscious (Adventure Time, Monica and Friends, Cookie Run...) and then there's the ones that simply are very niche. even if I saw it in passing or in a video, it's in the sandbox now

It can get hard to recollect stuff sometimes, like, for a while I couldn't think of any examples for rabbit mouths being stylized as ('x') despite knowing it's a thing (now I have Miffy)

[bishop-percival]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy fiddled with his bowtie as he avoided Revenard Mike’s piercing eye. This was marginally better than the relentless mockery he expected but… being scolded like a child was unbearable. “Which is why I was planning to make an appointment after this!” Then he paused before adding,  “…And I’m well-aware that it sounds like an excuse to avoid seeing how you’d force me but… that was as much practice as seeing how badly my aim degraded.” Teddy looked back towards the research document stash before attempting to redirect the topic away from himself again.  “So… what were you wondering?”

Mike sighed and added on one more thing before switching topics. “Well… At least think of it this way. You deal with us Glornists every Slornday, and then some. You’ll be fine handling those two dweebs for an appointment.”

That was his attempt at being encouraging.

“Anyways, I was wondering where I could find more information on the project’s methods, but I think you’ve answered it.” He got up to poke around the bookshelf and cabinet."

[my-weird-news]

20 Epicly Awkward Prom Pics from the Funky Past 🕺📸

Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a# Prom Night Follies: Groovy Awkwardness That Ages Like Moldy Cheese 🕺👑 What is it about peeking into our pasts that tickles our funny bones? Seriously, it's like a nostalgia-induced comedy show where everyone's dressed in the silliest outfits, parading around like they just found a stash of enchanted dress-up clothes. Is it the thrill of seeing folks rocking their bizarre getups without a hint of irony? Or maybe it's the relief that we're no longer wearing powder blue top hats and curtains-as-dress fashion statements. Whatever it is, let's dive into the chuckle-worthy world of awkward prom photos from the Groovy era. Leave the Top Hat Alone, It’s Bored of Your Company Hold the phone, folks, we’ve got a guy in the back sporting a top hat that thinks it's starring in a soap opera. I mean, that thing has more drama than a Shakespearean tragedy. Meanwhile, Mr. Caught-Off-Guard on the side just wants to have a normal picture, but nooo, top hat guy is stealing the limelight. Let’s give it up for the gals though, who are pulling off their looks like they’re getting ready for a blast. They probably wish they left that top hat at home, locked away with all the ghosts of fashion past. Flannel Fever: The Key to Everlasting Love Step right up, folks, for the most '70s prom pic you'll ever lay your eyes on. We've got shag carpet squares, paper mushrooms that look like a failed art project, and dual plaid suits that scream, "Hey, let’s match like a married couple!" These two deserve applause for their coordinated flannel, but someone please get them a towel – the prom dance floor doubles as a sauna, apparently. Magic and Mismatched Expressions: A Perfect Recipe Attention, prom photographers: Can we get a matching expression coordinator, stat? Nothing says “I’m thrilled to be here” like a split-screen of a guy who's hyped and a date who's mentally grocery shopping. Seriously, it's like watching a buddy comedy where one person didn't get the memo that it's supposed to be a comedy. A Puff of Smoke and a Splash of Style Catastrophe Cue the smoke machine, folks! Behold the wide-lapelled flannel jacket that thinks it’s the real star of the show. Bowtie, you're cool and all, but let's be real – the jacket’s hogging the spotlight. This was clearly the golden age of experimenting with fashion, when everyone took a detour through Crazytown before arriving at Promville. But hey, at least this guy has the crown for the greatest 1970s mullet. Congrats? From Prom to Mortuary: The Unenthusiastic Guy Meet the guy who treats prom like a funeral procession. Hands folded, pet gecko missing, and an overall aura of doom – it's like someone swapped his prom ticket with a burial plot reservation. Buddy, cheer up! It's prom, not a séance. Life’s too short to mourn your own prom night. Moonlit Bananas and Peasant Fashion Hey, remember that time the school decided the prom theme was “Jungle Love”? No? Well, neither do we, because it's bananas – literally. Those gals are perched on a moon that could easily double as a giant banana in another life. Maybe the school mascot is the Fighting Bananas. Who knows, it's the Groovy era – anything's possible. ’70s: When Dads Took Over Teenage Bodies The 1970s: when teenage boys turned into middle-aged dads overnight. This guy's got more wedding vibes than a justice of the peace. Did they card him at the entrance? Or did they offer him a briefcase and a 9-to-5 job as a dad-joke enthusiast? Ah, kids these days. Blinds, Blinds, and More Blinds: Oh Yeah, and Teens In this thrilling episode of "Prom Pics: The Next Generation," our young lovebirds are upstaged by the real stars of the show: venetian blinds. Because who needs prom memories when you can have window decor? But hey, at least the kids look happy. Somebody tell the blinds to chill. Last Known Photographs and Prom: A Perfect Match Look, folks, it's the "Last Known Photograph" series, featuring two teens who look like they're posing for an FBI witness protection program file. Are they having a great time? Is this a prelude to a crime spree? We need answers. But we also secretly hope they had a redo for a less ominous prom pic. When TVs Were Prom Dates: An Awkward Love Affair Guess what, folks? The '70s brought us the golden era of prom dates – enter the disembodied head! Because who needs a whole person when you can just go with the floating head option? Half-price tickets for half a person, anyone? Growing Pains and Cloudy Dancing Being a teenager: a tumultuous journey from 4'11" to 6'1" with legs that suddenly think they're in a growth race. These younguns are trying to walk on clouds made of cotton, but in reality, they're just tripping on clouds. Disco dance meets accidental acrobatics – it's all part of the '70s magic. "Jungle Love" or Just Plain "Oh No"? Someone needs to explain the '70s' obsession with bizarre prom themes. "Jungle Love"? Really? Did the school mascot have a stroke of genius, or did someone think, "You know what kids need? A dance that raises questions about cultural sensitivity!" Let's all agree that "Jungle Love" should've stayed in the jungle. Captain Awkward: Ready for Takeoff Breaking news: Prom pic rule #1 – thou shalt not look excited. This guy’s suppressing his inner cheerleader so hard, he's about to explode in a burst of restrained enthusiasm. Inside, he's doing Olympic gymnastics. Outside, he's trying to win the medal for "Most Chill Dude at Prom." Flashback to the Groovy-est Gagworthy Trends Ta-da! If you ever wondered what a single frame of the '70s looked like, here you go. Behold the high collars, wooden wall panels, and oversized glasses that together create a montage of fashion crimes. It's like the '70s threw up in one picture, and we can't look away. Mickey Ears Are So Yesterday, Meet Mickey Dots Who pulled the Mickey Mouse prank on this guy's prom photo? Did he willingly become a Read the full article

[cedigcrafts]

I just finished this hair bow to wear next Friday.

12th -18th June is Men's Health Week, and on the Friday people are going to #wearblue in support of it.

I realised o don't have any blue clothes as its not a colour I usually go for, but I had some lovely blue cotton yarn so I thought I'd make something to go in my hair for the occasion.

My first idea was to make a scruchie, but it would have taken a lot longer to make, so I paused where I was up to with it and realised it was about right for a hair bow. I haven't made one of these before but I have made bowties before and had a load of combs in my stash from an idea I had (and abandoned) for my hair when I got married and it went fantastically well!

If you'd like a hair bow of your own, drop me a line. They will be £5 inc p&p in the UK

[brb-on-a-quest]

im stealing ur book collection (my broke college ass will give you back your mason jar of coins).

NO PRESSUREEE

@a-resplendent-mushroom @walkthruthewords @annotated-catastrophe @rosiefinches

@quotidian-oblivion @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego

saw this cool tag game so I'm gonna do it :)

Reblog with your own list, and say what you'd steal from me and why, and tag some people!

@artist-issues @book-girl4evaaa

@cynthiachildofgod @ebony-reine-vibes

@freddie-77-ao3 @hiddenvioletsgrow

@innereverblaze @lilliesandlight

@nightbunnysong @pinkwisteria

@partlysunny15 @ramblings-of-lola

@thomasstaples