#brown fur dining chair

[sentaco]

Dining Room Enclosed

Idea for an enclosed dining room with a mid-sized rustic slate floor and a gray floor, beige walls, and no fireplace

[jeonginluvrr]

soonie, doongie, dori | lee minho

synopsis - y/n meets her boyfriend’s family for the first time, including three cats.

pairing - lee minho/lee know x fem!reader 

genre - fluff 

“are you sure about this, minho?” you asked your boyfriend nervously, your fingers anxiously gripping his as the two of you stood in front of his family’s apartment door, shoes taken off and carelessly tossed to the side of the welcome mat. 

“it can’t be that bad,” minho let out a small sigh, turning to look at you. “i’m sure my parents will love you.” 

you nodded, grabbing your boyfriend’s arm as he turned the knob of the smart door, pushing the entrance to the apartment open, with cheerful greetings from his mother and father echoing within the interior of the home. 

“minho, you’re finally home,” his mother made a beeline to the door, pulling her son into a tight embrace, separating you from him. “and i see you’ve brought your girlfriend.”

“hello,” you bowed politely to the elder woman, trying to hide your anxiousness.

minho’s mother smiled at you, returning a greeting before gesturing to the dining table, where minho’s father was waiting. “please, join us for dinner.” 

minho locked his fingers with yours once more, and led you to the dining table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in before he sat down himself. unbeknownst to you and minho, his parents threw each other sly smirks at their son’s antics.

the dinner went more smoothly than you expected, and minho’s parents were delighted that he was dating you, and welcomed you into their family quite quickly. although his father had the same cold exterior minho had when you first met him, he quickly warmed up to you. 

“thank you for the dinner.” you smiled at the two.

“of course! don’t forget to see soonie, doongie and dori on your way out!” she exclaimed as she picked up the dirty dishes from the dining table. 

“soonie, doongie, and dori?” you turned to look at minho, questioning what his mother had just told you. 

“ah,” minho smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his nape. “i have three cats. let me introduce them to you.” 

he gently led you to a room neighboring his parents’ and slowly opened the door to reveal three cats crowding the entrance to the room, looking up at minho and meowing in delight once they saw their owner. 

“this is soonie,” minho gestured at a ginger cat. “this is doongie,” minho pointed at a ginger cat with more white fur covering him. “and this is dori.” finally, dori was revealed as the brown cat with dark markings.

while soonie and doongie were busy crowding minho, dori approached you and sniffed you curiously. you let dori sniff your index finger first, so that he would become more accustomed to your scent. he paused and sniffed it carefully, before headbutting your knuckles. 

“seems like dori likes you,” minho chuckled as he pet soonie and doongie. “the maknae’s always been a curious baby.” 

you chuckled and watched as dori gently smacked his head against the back of your hand until you pet him, and a low purr rose from his throat as you scratched the back of his ears. 

after bothering minho, the other two cats approached you, with soonie playfully hitting dori on the head with his paw. the two cats tackled each other and scrambled on the floor, play fighting as doongie blinked his round green eyes, watching them fight, his tail wrapped around his paws. 

“we should probably get going soon,” minho rose from the ground, turning to look at you. 

“do we have to? i don’t want to leave them behind,” you chuckled, becoming suddenly attached to minho’s cats. 

“don’t worry love, you’ll see them more often in the future,” he helped you rise from the floor, pressing a small peck on your forehead. “i’ll make sure of it.” 

you chuckled, giving minho a kiss on the lips. “you really seem to care about them, hmm?” 

“of course. they’re my home,” minho smiled sadly as he watched soonie, doongie and dori play as he shut the door behind you two. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 7

Warnings: touching, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Lee's building is nice enough. You've never been to this part of the city. You don't go far from campus really.

You walk ahead of him as he herd you inside. Up the elevator and down a hallway to the very end. He squeezes by to unlock the door and slides back the latch with a harsh schlock.

He pushes the door open and points you in ahead of him. You enter and peek around hopefully. You can't wait to meet the kitten.

His belly touches your back as he enters behind you. You quickly move out of the way and bend to untie your shoes and leave them on the mat. He takes his time hanging his leather jacket as you cling to your bag aimlessly.

"Let me get this, darlin'," he takes your knapsack, "tables over here."

He leads you across the front room. There's an upholstered couch with a blanket draped over the back and leather recliner. You trail him past the large television and into the small space that makes up the dining area. He places your bag on the square table and faces you.

"Go on and sit. You want a cushion. Chair's are a hit hard."

"No, sir, that's okay," you can't help but peek around but reel in your eagerness.

You slip past him, brushing close and you sit in one of the wooden chairs. You pull your bag towards you and undo the zipper. You focus on the task, wanting to ask about the kitten but too afraid to overstep. Your father said it was always polite to wait for the host to offer, you never demand.

Lee disappears and you slide out your books and laptop. You open the lid and flip the cover of your notebook. You can hear rustling and some shuffling. You keep your attention on the wallpaper. 

"Ah, now, I know you didn't forget," Lee reemerges, a plastic cat carrier in his hand, audible scratching at the interior.

You can't help but smile as he puts the carrier on the table and you snap shut your laptop. He groans as he sits and pushes his shoulders back, rubbing his thighs. He slowly, as if taunting you, reaches over to unhook the door.

You see the bright yellow eyes before he swings open the crisscrossed door. The small brown kitten leaps out and crashes into the stack of your textbooks. You giggle and catch it before it scrambles over the edge.

"Aw, he's so cute," you preen as you pet it's soft fur and wriggles against your chest.

"Isn't he?" Lee says, "little thing kept me up. Mewing. I think he needs a friend but he’s too afraid of me."

"Oh?" Your eyebrows rise, "well, I can be his friend. Awwww," your distracted by the cat as he stretches to smell your chin.

"Two of ya," Lee throws his hand up, "too damn cute."

You laugh and cradle the cat in your arm as he tries to crawl up your chest. You stroke his back and nestle your chin against his head. 

"How about Hickory?" You ask.

"Hickory?"

"For his name. Think it suits him."

"Ah, yea, I'd say so too," Lee muses as he watches with a slanted smirk, "so you don't mind stayin' with him tonight? I can't keep him locked up that long and I'm worried he might have an accident."

"Of course, I'll take care of him," you make a face at Hickory as he touches your nose with his.

"Got everything in the car. Had to do some shoppin' before I found ya. Food, milk, litter… I guess I'll go grab it, huh."

"I can't believe you found a kitten," you chime without really hearing him, "if only I was so lucky." You hug the kitten, "but we can't have pets in the dorms."

"That's too bad," Lee taps his fingers on the table as he stands, "but you're always welcome here, darlin'. You know?"

💮

You’re a bit nervous at first. You realise only too late you’ll have to sleep in your jeans but Lee offers you a shirt for the night. Wait until he leaves to change into it.

An eerie feeling takes over you once you’re alone. Even with Hickory around, you feel out of place. Like you shouldn’t be there. Maybe you shouldn’t but there’s nothing terribly wrong with it. He ordered dinner and he only really got ready for work as you sat and read and played with the kitten. Well, he did want a kiss before he left.

You take the blanket off the back of the couch along with the fluffy pillow he brought you. He offered you to sleep in his bed but that just doesn’t feel right. Does any of it?

It takes you some time to doze off. Hickory sleeps by your head as you toss and turn well past the early hours of the morning. You can’t help but empathise with Lee and his night shifts. The last time you check your phone, it’s after two. 

Your dreams are a smear of colours and sensations. Nothing tangible. You’re so wrought with exhaustion, your mind can’t summon more than obscurity.

You wake only at the odd sensation along your neck. You moan and try to brush it away. You think it’s Hickory at first until the thick hand catches your own. You gasp and roll onto your back to look up at Lee.

“Sorry, darlin’, just making sure you’re alright,” he bends to kiss your cheek, “that couch ain’t too comfy. Why don’t you come in the bedroom?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes round, “what time is it?”

“Five,” he keeps his voice low, “still early.”

His eyes wander from your face and you follow his gaze down your body. Your leg is hooked around the blanket, your thigh exposed and cold. You shake your head and rub your eyes with a yawn.

“I’m okay right here,” you assure him. “With Hickory.”

You look around for the kitten. Lee clucks as he watches you.

“Scamp’s back in the carrier for now. He shredded up some toilet paper,” Lee says, “don’t be stubborn, sweet thing, you come lay down and get some proper sleep. Think I’ll rest better havin’ ya close.”

“Really, I’m–”

There’s not time to react as he bends and scoops you up. The blanket falls away from you as he backs away from the couch and you latch onto his shoulder. You squeak and kick your legs in surprise.

“Lee!”

“Now, darlin’, I worked a long night. I don’t wanna be fussin’ with ya,” he turns and carries you across the room, “shouldn’t be sleeping on that stiff couch. No good for ya.”

You cling to him, afraid he’ll drop you though his strength is unshakeable. He hardly puts any effort into carrying you. He enters the bedroom and you hide your face against his shoulder. It’s so weird. He sets you down on the bed and pets your forehead as you lay back against the pillows.

“Whatsa matter with ya?” He puffs, “bed’s not too bad. Only got it last year.”

You plant your elbows and push your head up, “I’m sorry, I just never been in… anyone’s bed before.”

“Hmm?” A stitch weaves between his brows as he unbuttons his dark shirt.

“Lee, I never even slept over with a boy,” you say, only realising how pathetic you sound as the words float between you. “I mean–” you gulp as you catch his eyes stray again, trailing down your naked legs.

“I'm no boy,” he scoffs.

He shrugs his shirt off, revealing his torso shamelessly. You avert your eyes but the sight of him stains your vision. His stomach bulges out beneath his chest, poking over his belt. You pull your legs up and push down the blanket, hiding under it so you don’t have to see him.

You can hear him moving around and you shiver as his footsteps near the bed. He climbs onto the other side and tugs the blankets over him. You wince as the mattress bounces under him and he presses himself to your back, snaking his arm around you. He wiggles his hips and you feel a prodding along your butt. You squeak as he chuckles against your hair.

“See what you do to me, sweet thing?” he purrs, “you’re lucky I’m all tuckered out.”

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

short and sweet chapter of bentley feeling out the wayne family dynamic

part twelve

❝ UNDEFEATED CHAMPION ❞

TUESDAY — 7:11AM

BENTLEY WOKE UP WHEN DAMIAN CLOSED HIS DOOR THE NEXT MORNING. The sunshine was dimly filtering through the curtains, turning his room a bright orange. 

“Get out of the way, Drake, you imbecile,”

“Piss off, brat. There’s room for more than one person in the hallway,”

“The sheer size of your idiocy proves otherwise,”

Bentley’s door opened a smidge. He flinched involuntarily before he saw Alfred (the cat) squeeze through the crack. Then — Damian, he assumed — closed it again without coming inside.

He blinked as the cat made a mrrow, trotting over to his bed and hopping up on the mattress. He was already purring.

The clock read 7:12am. Alfred climbed up on his legs and walked into his lap, rubbing his head on Bentley’s shirt. 

Damian just let his cat in there?

Bentley stroked Afred’s fur and realized that Damian had probably heard (or heard of) his inability to sleep. Maybe that’s why he let Alfred in.

Bentley took a moment to revel in the embarrassment of Damian listening to him cry that one night with Bruce, and then got up to change, leaving the cat to curl up on the comforter.

Over the next few minutes, he heard way more pairs of footsteps pad down the hall than he had since he got here. There was a distant exchange of ‘you were the one in my room?’  ‘Finders keepers, loser’ between voices Bentley didn’t recognize. Both of which were girls. There were only three girls in his father’s files, and one of them was basically an assassin. (How many assassins was he going to meet before this was over?)

He assumed they were all going down for breakfast. Seven-thirty seemed to be the time Alfred opted for on school days, and since Bentley slept through the last one, he decided he should probably show up today. Everyone else certainly was.

He quickly changed into a some jeans and a hoodie, petting Alfred a few more times before he opened the door and-

Ran right into someone.

“Oh! You must be Bentley!”

Was everyone going to say that when they met him?

He glanced up, locking eyes with a blonde girl he quickly recognized as Stephanie Brown, aka, Spoiler. Daughter of the supervillain Cluemaster who was defying her destiny. Her bright blonde hair was down in neat waves, blue eyes shining in a similar way to Dick’s. She had on a white top and purple yoga pants. “I’m Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph.”

“Hi,” Bentley stated, somewhat awkwardly. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and looked down at his shoes.

“Aren’t you just adorable. C’mon, I think Alfred made waffles!” She said excitedly, continuing down the hall toward the stairs. Bentley was afraid she might touch him, like ruffle his hair or pat his shoulder, but she didn’t, and he was grateful. 

He followed Stephanie down the stairs and into the dining room, which was, for lack of better words, bustling with life.

Instead of just Damian, Bruce, and Duke like it had been the first day, Bruce, Jason, Tim, Duke, Damian, a black-haired girl Bentley recognized as Cassandra Cain, and Dick were all piled around the table. Alfred was whizzing in and out, piling the table full of freshly cooked foods, and the room was alive with chatter. Stephanie made for an empty chair and Bentley, a little out of his element, idled in the doorway. He contemplated turning around and going back upstairs, pretending he’d never woken up in the first place, but Dick spotted him before he could.

“Hey, kiddo!”

All the eyes in the room flicked to him momentarily, and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

“Good morning, Bentley,” Bruce stated, reaching over and pulling out the chair next to him, the one Bentley always sat in. Tim was on the other side of it. “We’d love for you to join us, if you’re feeling up to it.”

The child kept his deep brown eyes glued to his tennis shoes as he padded across the room toward Bruce. Everyone reverted back to their previous conversations, not paying him much mind, and he was thankful for it.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce questioned softly. Bentley glanced around, relaxing when  he realized literally no one was looking at him anymore.

“Uh, good,” He replied, twisting his hands together in his lap. “…Weird.”

He immediately regretted saying that when Bruce raised his eyebrows. He half-expected a lecture about how admitting things was weak. Surely he should’ve known that by now, his father gave him that lecture all the time, why was he stupid enough to keep doing it? 

Bruce quickly proved his thought process wrong when he muttered: “Sick weird?”

“Huh? Oh… no,” Bentley shook his head. “It’s just different… here. And there’s a lot of people.”

“There are,” Bruce nodded, glancing around the table with a certain fondness in his eyes. “You don’t have to stay if it makes you uncomfortable, no one will be upset.”

Bentley’s father’s voice echoed in his head: I don’t care if you need to use the bathroom, or get hungry, or start dying — you’re staying right there until this is over.

Bentley looked around, just in time to see Jason swat Dick’s hand off his head with a quiet profanity, and catch the tail end of Damian’s rant about how he’s ‘superior to everyone in every conceivable way.’ Cassandra was perched precariously in her chair, she, Tim, and Duke listening to Steph speak more with her hands than her mouth. Someone at the table called Damian a brat but Bentley couldn’t tell who it was. Something about it all felt… more real than anything he’d experienced before.

“I… want to stay,” He replied after a moment. Bruce smiled lightly, his eyes glowing with something Bentley couldn’t quite place.

“Okay,”

“-I know two hundred and fifty-seven different ways to kill you, Todd,”

Bentley glanced back at the rest of the table.

“How are you liking the Manor so far?”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on him again, expecting him to speak. Steph was the one who’d asked — she was smiling softly at him.

“Uh, it’s… good,” Was all he could manage at the moment. “Better than before.”

A pang of sadness reverberated through his chest when he realized it really had been better than before. Better than living with his own father.

Cassandra shrugged. “Well, you’re certainly doing better than Tim, he puked all over Dick’s pants on his first night.”

Tim glared at her from his seat beside Bentley. “I had the flu.”

“You had bad aim,” Jason retorted from across the table.

“We were in the car and he was talking to me!”

“You could’ve looked away to vomit,” Jason continued.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Yet another glaringly obvious example of Drake’s incompetence.”

“Puking makes me incompetent?”

“This is hardly a conversation for the breakfast table,” Alfred added as he whizzed in and out. Everyone had started grabbing different foods from the dishes on the table and making their plates.

“It’s basically a Wayne rite-of-passage to barf on someone in at least your first few months. I think we all did,” Cassandra continued. “It’s usually Dick.”

“He’s very pukable,” Jason added.

Dick shrugged in his chair, stabbing some waffles on the tray in the center of the table and plopping them on his plate. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Don’t,”

Bentley sat quietly until Tim pulled the waffle tray over so he could reach it.

“I know we haven’t really met yet — I’m Tim,” He stated, smiling lightly. “I would’ve said hi earlier but, you know.”

“Yeah,” Bentley replied. Since it seemed like everyone else at the table had already gotten something, he stealthily stabbed a waffle and slid it onto his plate.

Now that he was sitting right next to Tim, he realized he looked really good to have just been rushed to the doctor last night. He was still kind of flushed, but other than that he looked completely normal.

Suspicious.

“And I’m Cass! Since we’re doing introductions,” Cassandra called from the other side of Tim, waving slightly. Bentley (sort of?) waved back.

“…Hi,”

The conversation died out as everyone ate, Alfred joining them at the table a little bit later. For most of the meal Bentley listened to Steph talk about some college friend or another. He was just glad no one was talking to him.

Before long, Alfred stated that it was nearly time to leave for school. And that set Tim’s internal alarm off, because he was, quote-on-quote, supposed to be gone already. Soon everyone was shuffling around and taking dishes into the kitchen and running upstairs to get stuff and Bentley was left in the dining room with Bruce while chaos ensued around the house. Which he didn’t mind.

“I have a few meetings today, but other than that I’m not going to be in my office much. Is there anything you’d like to do?”

Bentley creased his brow. Did he mean, like, go places? Because he hadn’t been many places. He hadn’t even been in a car all that much, if he really thought about it. Maybe three or four times a year he’d have to go to some big convention or other with his father, if the man didn’t opt for leaving him home alone, which he did more often than not. 

“I heard you’re a master at uno,” He stated, a small smile quirking up on his face. “I’m surprised you beat Damian as many times as you did. But you know who the real undefeated uno champion is?”

Bentley watched Bruce for a moment, half expecting him to say it was him, but he jerked a thumb toward the kitchen where Alfred was humming quietly.

“I think I can coerce him into a round or two if you want. But be warned, he gets pretty into it.”

Bentley smiled slightly, watching as Alfred briefly passed the door with a stack of plates in his hand. It did actually sound, you know, fun to play card games with Bruce and Alfred. 

“…Okay,”

Bruce smiled, rising from the table. “It’s top notch entertainment, if you ask me. I’ll go grab the cards.”

He disappeared from the dining room, and Bentley sighed softly, glancing down at the tabletop again.

He realized that a tiny part of him was starting to like the Wayne’s.

And then he realized he was starting to like the Wayne’s… a little more than he liked his father?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld💛

—

tag list (ask in comments and I’ll add your @!)

@fleur-alise

[the-broken-truth]

Late Night Hunt - Yandere Wolf Diana Cavendish x Akko Kagari [Part 2 of 2]

Summary: Diana makes dinner for Atsuko while the two of them catch up after all that time apart. After dinner, Akko tries to leave the manor but Diana makes it clear that Atsuko isn't going anywhere and a hunt ensues.

Broken: Hey, @blee-bleep, I hope you like this part too, please let me know what you think!

[Cavendish Manor's Dining Hall]

Atsuko Kagari wasn't expecting this when she decided to take a look into the most haunted place known in the Hunter Community - she expected some ghosts or spirits, maybe even a vampire; what she got was a Tall Butch Werewolf House Head who happened to be her 'Fiancee' from her childhood. Akko was now sitting in a rather plush and lush chair, looking around at the paintings in the dining hall now that the lights were on - there were images of the manor's previous heads but Akko didn't see one of Diana, she must not have gotten a portrait made for herself yet. Speaking of Diana...

"Sorry it took so long, Atsuko, It's rather difficult to hold knives with hands like mine." Diana said as she walked out of the kitchen with two plates of food in her hands with delicious steaks drizzled in a brown sauce. Diana walked over to the table and placed the food before Akko before placing a wine glass on the right side of the girl's plate and setting her own food down and pulling the wine bottle from under her arm, using her claw on her thumb to open the cork and poured the wine into Akko's glass before doing the same to her own glass. She placed the wine bottle down before sitting in her chair and smiled at Akko with her wolfish teeth on display.

"Um... Thank you, Diana." Akko said as she picked up her knife and knife, cutting the meat and stabbing it with her fork before picking it up, putting it into her mouth, and chewing. Her eyes widened at the flavor, "This is delicious, Diana! I didn't know you could cook that good."

"I'm glad you like it, Atsuko; it's been a while since I've been able to cook for anyone. I'm glad you're here with me now." Diana said as her tail waved around in excitement - Akko looked at the woman's tail before looking at her.

"Um... Diana, what happened to you after you left the school? I hadn't heard from you in a long time." Akko asked causing Diana to look to the ground before she looked at Akko with emotion in her blue eyes.

"A spell went wrong - my appearance was changed and I was sealed away in my own home, unable to go outside and see you anymore. When my aunt and my cousins disappeared, I became the Head of the Cavendish Name and when I hired a detective to look for you, they came up empty and all I had was this manor and the wealth of a Cavendish...but no one to share it with." Diana reached over and grasped Akko's hand in her own - her fur was rather soft, "I'm glad that you are here with me, Atsuko, now we can keep our promise to each other."

"Our Promise?" Akko asked. Diana pointed to the ring around her neck.

"We're getting married, remember? Now, that you have returned to e, we shall get married and procreate the Cavendish Family back to its former glory. I wonder if we will have a son or a daughter first." Diana asked herself as she scratched her chin with a thoughtful look on her face but Akko's face was red like a fire in a fireplace.

"Kids? Diana, we are both females, we can't have kids!" Akko said but Diana just chuckled to her.

"During my time here, I have experimented with potions - I found a potion that allows me to get you pregnant, Atsuko. Maybe we can try it out tonight..." Diana purred as she licked her lips at Akko, who jumped from her seat and shook her head.

"Diana, I...I can't have your children. I'm not ready for something like that." Akko said as she looked back at the door, "I think I should go, Diana; I really need to think about this whole marriage thing."

"Atsuko, you can't leave me. I've waited so long to have you back in my grasp and now that I do, you expect me to let you go?!" Diana roared as she stood up to her full height, glaring down at the one who she's been looking for all this time, "You aren't going anywhere, Atsuko Kagari. You are mine!" Diana pounced at Akko, who turned and started running for her life, "ATSUKO KAGARI!! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Akko ran down the hallway - her heart pounding - until she reached the foyer, she ran down the stairs and ran to the door before pulling on it but it wasn't opening.

"ATSUKO!" Diana called out from on top of the stairs before stomping down the stairs as Akko pulled on the door, soon the large werewolf grabbed Akko from behind and yanked her away from the door, and pulled her close to her chest before wrapping her arms around the struggling girl. "You aren't going anywhere, Atsuko. Fate has brought you back to me and I'm going to keep you. I'm going to love you and you are going to love me. And I am going to breed you when the time is right. No one is going to take you away from me anymore." Diana turned around and started walking back up the stairs with the struggling girl in her grasp. They were together again...that's all that matters.

[ajgrey9647]

Perfecting a Palace Pet: Beloved Red

Reclining in the plush, overstuffed chair in his private bedchambers, Lord Drakkon studied the smooth, glossy surface of the expensive chocolate before sliding it into his mouth. The rich treat melted into a thick sweet liquid, coating his tongue like velvet. Unconsciously, he moaned in enjoyment before plucking another from the jeweled box resting on his lap.

Young Tommy Oliver would have been aghast at the price of this decadent treat, never dreaming that one day he would be able to savor them whenever he wished. The lovely aroma wafted up from the small pile of chocolate balls and he took a long, deep breath before consuming the next one. Taking his time to fully appreciate the chocolate, Drakkon placed the heavy lid back onto the candy box.

Never too many, he reminded himself. Always mindful of the importance of his physical prowess, the tyrant restrained himself from overindulging and losing his muscular physique. At times, a strong hand was required when dealing with potential invaders or rebel Coinless instigators.

The silken robe caressed his flesh teasingly, like a lover as he moved, returning the container of sweets to its place in his bedside drawer. He sank onto the lush mattress of his four-poster bed, the emerald green blankets soft as a cloud. How he wished his younger self could see all that he had accomplished.

Yet something else tugged at his mind unbidden. It had buzzed about his brain ceaselessly the past two weeks, intruding at random times as he sat on his throne, dined at his elaborate dinners, or relaxed in his hot, soapy, aromatic baths. He couldn’t explain it, even to himself.

It was such a mundane, three letter word; nothing was special about it. But the concept swirled, captivating Drakkon’s imagination. He remembered the shock and horror as Jason spat his question from the floor where he cowered after giving his enemy the information he had been relentlessly seeking.

“You’re just going to keep me here like a pet?” he’d cried, dark eyes wide and flashing anger.

At the time, Drakkon had merely retorted that the Red Ranger was his trophy, of more importance than just a pet. However, that assignation wasn’t quite right, was it? A trophy was something to be proud of, to show off, to display prominently. That was something that Drakkon refused to do with Jason.

Most of the joy in possessing Jason was the secrecy with which he held him captive. His ‘death’ had a ripple effect across the Grid, demoralizing and striking fear into other Rangers. Seeing the shattered and bloody Tyranno helmet stunned many into quick submission. Drakkon grinned his sly feline smile, eyes clouding into inky blackness.

No, Jason was his own private plaything. The tyrant enjoyed their daily visits, the verbal and physical sparring, making the captive scream in pain, sobbing brokenly at Drakkon’s feet. He was not a trophy after all.

A pet, though?

As an abused and neglected child, Tommy had never owned a pet. The closest thing he had to an animal companion was the small brown stuffed dog; where it came from, he couldn’t remember. But he’d hugged it close and buried his tear-filled eyes in its soft fur as all around him chaos erupted.

The unwanted child clung to the warm, inanimate creature, feeling fear, loneliness, pain, and sorrow. Although it couldn’t reciprocate Tommy’s emotions, the boy still believed that somehow it understood. Over time, the little animal lost one of its shiny black eyes and the coat became threadbare with overuse.

To Drakkon’s dismay, he found tears gathering in the corners of his eyes at the memory; the burning ache made him snarl in agitation. Why should the great warlord be reduced to sobs when he now had everything he ever desired? What could he ever crave that he couldn’t make his?

There was something he coveted, however, a small traitorous voice whispered.

A loyal companion, someone who would always be at his side, who would gaze at him with love and adoration, their only goal in life to please him. Although he was surrounded by Sentries of various colors, Drakkon knew better than to believe they possessed a true loyalty to their master. Those mindless fucks would gladly trade one mantle for another if it suited them. They too desired power, wealth, and status; if a better offer came along, they would have no hesitation absconding with their coins.

Lip lifting in a feral hiss, his black eyes narrowed. He was no fool. During his younger years, he had also felt the siren song of jealousy watching those with means and privilege enjoying heaping plates of luxury and decadence in the face of those less fortunate. They would smugly smile down at the fawning underlings all jostling for position to glean the crumbs that managed to fall their way.

Little did those overfed, selfish sheep realize those black shiny eyes gazing up at them belonged to vultures. The measly scraps only fed their appetite for more until the day came when the golden plate ran dry and they would viciously rip apart the bleating sheep they pretended to adore. The only interest in sight was self-interest and the Sentries were no different.

Drakkon felt the familiar nudge of artistic, lovely fuckery taking hold in his mind. Perhaps he could create his own human pet? Tapping a finger to his chin, he could see the result so clearly: an obedient, submissive dark-haired pet kneeling at his side awaiting his master’s command. Delicious.

The tyrant would have to remember to thank the pitiful Red Ranger for sparking his creative muse.

Poor little darling.

Unable to sleep once the idea presented itself, Drakkon had eagerly spent the entire night studying the whole topic of human pets. There was quite a bit of information to digest and questions to be answered before he could begin. Jason would need to be broken down even further than he currently had been for the process to work.

Easy enough for Lord Drakkon, who’d spent his entire childhood and most of his teenage years in various shrinks’ offices and was well versed in a wide array of mental health disorders and medications. The Red Ranger would have to be reduced to a quivering, helpless shell in order to create his perfect pet.

Once he had his pet, what would be the rules and expectations?

Obviously, the name ‘Jason’ had to go. New identity, new name. The captive would eventually be seen by others however, the majority of Sentries wouldn’t know the Red Ranger by sight. The rest would most likely operate from the assumption that Jason Scott would NEVER allow himself to be Drakkon’s palace pet. Besides, he was dead, remember?

What else did he want from his new pet? What commands would Red be expected to know.

Grabbing a sheet of paper, Drakkon jotted ideas as they came to mind.

His pet was to always be submissive and know his place. A pet was not a human being and therefore had no rights, no protections, no expectations regarding fair and just treatment. No consent. His body was his master’s, not his own.

It would be forbidden to speak or gaze upon his master’s face without permission.

His place was kneeling beside the tyrant’s concrete throne on the right side.

Red would wear his collar and a special uniform assigned specifically to him.

That much he was sure of, but there would be more. He tapped the pen to his jaw as he reflected upon his day and how a pet could make itself useful.

Red would be responsible for drawing his baths and turning down his bed.

He would be required to help him bathe and dry himself with his large fluffy towels.

He would be required to bring his robe after the bath and assist him into the garment.

Foot massages would also be expected.

Red would ensure he awakened on time and assist him into his regalia.

He would accompany Drakkon throughout the palace always walking behind him on his right.

Although Drakkon was not a weakling nor any less deadly, Red would be his guard dog.

But to start he would learn the basics any proper canine should be well acquainted with: Sit, stand, lay down, kneel, come.

His eyes darkened as he moved to another area that his literature discussed regarding the use of a pet. Another set of commands that could prove useful caught his attention.

A list of directions to instruct a pet as a sexual plaything.

Drakkon felt an intense attraction to Jason, yes. The thought of having him in his bed servicing him physically made him erect. It would take some time to bridge his pet from one set of responsibilities to another, as that trust would have to be earned. He must be sure that Red was fully under his thrall.

Mmmm, so many delicious rules.

Waking him with a blow job.

Joining him in the bath, sitting on his lap, facing him as washed his upper body.

Asking what position his master desired: on his back, on all fours, bent over the furniture. Or any other number of exotic acrobatics.

Telling Red to spread himself to his inspection.

Keeping his pet on the brink of orgasm before deciding to give him permission to cum.

Drakkon could train his beloved pet in all the erotic acts he craved, teach where his hotspots were, what visuals he found most arousing.

Yes, he smiled. Such an appealing pet Jason would become.

The next day, Drakkon announced his intention to the imprisoned Ranger as he gave him a new name and banished his former one. Jason had responded as hot headedly as the tyrant expected, exploding in rage at the implied humiliation and degradation he would be subjected to. But knowing that Drakkon was extremely serious about his new future.

“I fucking hate you!” the furious captive screamed in vain.

Drakkon’s eyes flashed with the joy of fuckery in blossom.

“Hate me but you WILL. FUCKING. OBEY!” he bellowed back into the swollen, bloody face.

My fiery little beloved Red Ranger, you will become the perfect pet.

[stardust-swan]

My Dream Home

aka where I'd live if I was rich and had time to maintain all of this

Outside

Powder blue, with murals painted on the side

There will be roses, violets, lavender, petunias, marigolds, peonies, mayflowers, and a cherry blossom tree in the front garden

And tomatoes, potatoes, strawberries, blueberries, onions, mint, courgettes, garlic, sage, thyme, basil, lettuce, peas, carrots, and cucumber in the back

Pretty birdbath

A wrought iron bench

Lanterns and string lights to light up the garden at night

A marble or bronze statue of Aphrodite

A calm fountain

Bonsai trees

Bedroom

Satin and silk bedsheets in ballet pink, lavender, baby blue, and duck egg green, and floral quilts and duvet covers

Beaded clothes hangers on the clothes rack

Fluffy fur rugs on the floor

An illuminated vanity with my favourite makeup, perfume, and Pandora charm bracelet on display

A nook for a shrine to Aphrodite

A clothesline of theatre programmes I've gone to on the wall

A large shelf for my collector barbies

A light up shoe rack big enough for my (vast) collection of shoes

Plushies on the bed

My closet and drawers will have sachets of potpourri and scented soaps in them so that my clothes will smell beautiful

A velvet headboard

Heavy drapes on the bed

Kitchen

Delicate floral ceramics in the kitchen

There will always be fresh-baked cookies and pastries for when guests drop in

A cupboard stocked full of herbal teas

Will always have a soup cooking on the stove and a pie cooling on the windowsill

The fridge will be stocked with vegetables and berries from my garden, fresh eggs, whole milk and good butter and cheese, cured meats, smoked salmon, macarons, homemade limoncello and cider, jam made from my own berries, and jugs of water with cucumber, lemon slices, and springs of homemade mint

Other foods will include: an array of spices and herbs, fresh bread, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, green and black olives, brown rice, veg that I canned and pickled myself, kimchi, almond milk, rice milk, mochi, marzipan, white chocolate with raspberries, dried fruits and nuts, honey, and fresh pastries

A six burner stove

Marble countertops

Elegant silverware

Living Room

Homemade throws on the chairs

A large bookshelf and more books on the windowsill

Will always smell delicious because of the candles I burn every evening

Will always be filled with the sound of classical music or jazz

Lots of cushions on the sofas

Sconces with frilled shades on the walls

A dining table with a beautiful centrepiece and elegant table settings

A comfy armchair for me to sit on while reading and crocheting

Bathroom

Jurlique rose handcream and fancy rose-pink soaps by the sink

Fluffy, thick, soft towels in white, pale pink, baby blue, lavender, and mint green

A vanity which has a mirror with soft pink lights, and enough storage space for my creams, body butter, exfoliater, face masks, toner, body mist, etc

Patterned toilet paper

Shower curtains made of silk or satin

Sea salt scented diffusers and a potted plant to make it feel fresh, and aromatherapy candles to make it feel calm

A bidet!

Mosaic tile walls and marble flooring and countertops

A clawfoot bathtub with elegant curves and gold accents

Plush rug next to the bath and a pretty toilet seat cover

Antique bathroom accessories, like a silver soap dish and crystal toothbrush holder

Maritime and botanical themed artwork on the walls

A built in sound system to play relaxing music while I bathe, like classical music, Native American flute music, or my Aphrodite playlist (on days where I'm having a long pampering session).

A large mirror with an ornate frame

A stained glass mirror so nobody can look in

Multiple Rooms/Other

Gilded framed pictures of my loved ones throughout the house

A potted houseplant on the side of each step of the staircase

Wide windows with velvet or satin curtains that let in lots of natural light

Prints by local artists on the walls

Vases of flowers taken from my garden in each room, even on the bathroom counter

Deep, plush carpets on the floor

Soft lighting from salt lamps and fairy lights

South-facing windows, so that the house will be full of light

The walls will be painted in pastel colours or will have a delicate wallpaper

Lots of pretty trinkets on the surfaces

Sapphic artworks that portrays lovers or the female form

Crystal handles on the cabinets and cupboards in the house

Lavender incense

Lace doilies on the side tables

Ribbons and bows everywhere

[draconic-ichor]

Morgott getting his whiskers pulled by one of the Morglings. Any one of 'em'll do!

I answered one similar to this looong ago: here

But here is a new little dabble with Barnabas and some of the grandmorglings!

“What happened to thy face?” Morgott asked, pointing to a bare patch on Magnus’s cheek with concern.

“It was Barnabas!” The other exclaimed.

“Ah…but he is just a wee babe.” Morgott chuckled, “Hardly bigger then thy hand.”

“He pulled out my fur! Smiled while he did it too.”Magnus rubbed his cheek, “He’s a terror.”

“Thou art simply unpracticed with more challenging young.” Morgott waved him away, earning a smoldering look.

Later that evening, Morgott was resting with the baby cuddled to his chest. The small scrap stirred, blinking open furrowed golden eyes. He rooted around a bit in Morgott’s robes, but when they proved to be not to his level of comfort he sat up.

Morgott’s breath rattled through his chest, slow and deep, not unlike a purr or a low growl. It was a sound all the children had long ago associated with comfort. Barnabas crawled past his chest and up to his father’s face. He sat down on his butt, fluff of a tail wagging. Noses almost touching, Morgott was blissfully unaware as Barnabas’s chubby little hands smoothed over the grooves of his face.

The little one paused at the softness of his whiskers, knotting his small hands into the hair. His face split in an impish smile before tugging sharply.

~

Magnus and Minka sat at the breakfast table, Maddox a ways off fighting with his rambunctious toddler. Magnus spooned brown sugar into bowls of porridge, butter already melting overtop. He handed the smaller to Minka, both tucking in and beginning to eat.

The door to the dining hall opened, Magnus glancing up to see his father step through.

With a sound Magnus almost dropped his spoon, porridge falling back into the bowl with a splat, eyes large.

“Nary a word.” Morgott smoldered, refusing to look as him as he passed. He made his own bowl before sitting down at the table. A heavy sigh left his lips as the sound of giggling from across the table thickened.

Magnus tried to cover his mouth with a large clawed hand, eyes almost stinging in his attempt to muffle the sound. “H-How was that ‘ch-challenging young’, Father?” He managed, laughing breaking through.

Morgott sat his spoon down, finally turning to fully look at him. His face was clean shaven. This occurrence wholly new to the family, it being something even Magnus failed to bring about in his toddlerhood.

Maddox had been getting his young daughter situated during the interaction, oblivious to everything besides the little spitfire. He moved away to sit, the child seeing Morgott for the first time that morning.

Nenet jumped to standing on her chair, announcing loudly, “Grandpa, your face is naked!?!”

[2fortred]

Baking at Dawn

Characters: Atreus (Pantheon) Fandom: League of Legends, Legends of Runeterra Warnings: None

Atreus squints at Iula’s country bread recipe with great apprehension, hands bracing against the granite countertop in front of him.

Whiteflame circles aimlessly around his legs in a figure eight, quietly nudging him for a pat or two. Atreus indulges his furred friend and runs a hand down her head, between her ears, finding great comfort in the softness of her dark fur. His attention remains on the recipe, which sits innocently on a piece of the squared graph paper that Iula was so fond of, with cutesy doodles drawn on the borders courtesy of little Tomis.

Her handwriting is intimidating in a way it had no right to be as a simple scrawling of pencil across the paper; perfectly legible, with precise instructions and highlighted recommendations, as well as a note telling him not to try and do anything crazy for his first time baking a loaf of bread. Like he wouldn’t treat this task with all the dedication it deserved, as he did with everything in his daily life. He’d already spread out the supplies he needed on his countertops, bought fresh yeast just yesterday, and retrieved Pylas’s massive, ancient baking bowl from its place in the lowest cabinet within his kitchen.

Perhaps he is taking this too seriously. Regardless, he takes a breath and begins.

First comes the warm water, which has him taking a half-step over to his sink. He can hear Iula scolding him for the small size of his kitchen in the back of his mind, expressing her disdain for his lack of counter space. She had massive counters and an island, a prerequisite for any house she had wanted to buy all those years ago. Pylas hadn't understood it much- honestly, neither had Atreus- claiming that anyone could make anything in a little kitchenette if they were determined enough.

Atreus recalls the earful his friend received from his wife that day with a warm fondness. Pylas had taken it in good nature, as always, and he'd picked the house with the most significant amount of counter space out of all their options, just for her.

He turns back around and adds the yeast and sugar, carefully measuring out the ingredients with deadly precision. He'd brought up "measuring with the heart" to Iula, who firmly told him that as a beginner baker, he didn't have a baking heart to measure with. Which was an entirely fair statement, though it'd left him a bit miffed. Still, the specific instructions would be better this time around.

He stirs the mixture with a fork, glancing away for just a moment to track Whiteflame's trail from the kitchen to the dining room table. To his great amusement, she settles between the chairs underneath, content in the bars of sunlight shining through the nearby window, casting a brown undertone on her normally-black fur. Colossus joins her a moment later and flops his great slobbering head across her back, but she doesn't so much as twitch at the weight, perfectly used to his antics.

Once the yeast has dissolved, he carefully sets the bowl aside, running his fingers along the faded, painted depictions of mountains and wheat fields that decorate the sides of Pylas's bowl. He'd loved this damn thing, despite Iula being the dedicated baker by trade out of the two of them. Supposedly, it was well over a century old, and with the reverence his dear friend had handled the bowl with, he fully believed it.

As he stares into the concoction of yeasty sugar water, Yuumi- the curious young cat he'd been watching over for a few years now on behalf of his elderly neighbor Norra, who had needed to move into a nursing home some time back- decides now is the best time to hop up onto the counter. Atreus eyes her warily with a knowing smile and gently nudges her away from the bowl, to her feline confusion. He sets a timer on his phone for ten minutes and scoops her up, clucking his tongue at her.

Yuumi simply meows in response, as she does, and wiggles her way out of his arms to drop to the floor. She brushes her little body against his ankle, then makes her way to the living room coffee table to take her place on the thickset book she had claimed as her preferred basking spot when he first took her in. She seemed to enjoy sitting and loafing on it more than the cat tower by one of the windows, so he never put it back on its shelf.

Atreus plops down on the sofa with little grace, sprawling his arms across the tops of the cushions as he lets his head fall backward. Ever the lazy investigators, Whiteflame and Colossus meander over and join him, taking their respective spots on either side of him against the armrests. Whiteflame curls into a large tricolored donut while Colossus lays his head on the entirety of Atreus's thigh, looking up at him with big brown eyes.

Is it strange, that a dog reminds him of a friend that is no longer here? Both are massive fools with big brown eyes, as friendly and enduring as anything. Comforting, in moments of rest. He sighs and pats the beast atop his head, smiling fondly at the black spots on his muzzle.

Before he knows it, Atreus dozes off for a brief few minutes. He's startled by the digital tones singing cheerily from his phone on the counter, signaling that the yeast should be done "activating", whatever that meant in the world of bread. One day Iula's ramblings of recipes would get through his skull. One day.

He gathered half of his prepared flour and a spoon and got to work on mixing. Yuumi had decided to vacate her book to once again hop up onto the counter to watch him slowly stir the mixture, tracking the spoon with dilated pupils. Atreus believed she was a smart cat behind all of her fumbles, but he wouldn't put it past her to jump into a big bowl of yeast water whilst trying to get at a kitchen spoon. So, he kept half an eye on her as he added the olive oil and salt. Iula hadn't written down how long it would take for the flour to absorb everything, but he couldn't imagine it taking too long if he kept stirring.

Atreus had watched Iula make plenty of different types of bread over the years, as it was one of her favorite things to bake. She always seemed to have a determined grace about her when she worked with practiced hands and eyes, a state Pylas nor Atreus could truly match when cooking themselves. Pylas had often found bread recipes to try, both in books and on the web, and Iula had always taken up the challenge, sometimes making many loaves at once. He can't think of a time when she ever messed up a recipe, at least in front of him.

He blinks, staring at the now-sticky-looking dough. Tentatively, he gently places his palm against it, and his brow furrows at the sensation. Sticky indeed. As per his friend's instructions, he removes the dough and places it on the board atop his counter, still grimacing a little at the texture. Mind-Iula tells him to suck it up, so he does.

He kneads the dough with unsure hands, idly wondering if there was any true technique to it. He kneads and kneads some more until the dough becomes vaguely stretchy, at a point where he can forge it into a sad-looking ball. With hopes and dreams, he can see the resemblance between his little dough creation and Iula's loaves. He squints at it and prods at the sides, unsatisfied with the semi-spherical shape.

Atreus sighs. Good enough, he supposes. It could definitely be worse. He shifts aside to oil another bowl- this one a handmade birthday gift from Iula herself, one of her first forays into making things with ceramic- and gently places the dough inside it without morphing it too much. Covered in cling wrap, it doesn't look particularly impressive. Yuumi trills her agreement, sniffing at the edges of the clear plastic with her little cat nose.

He wipes his hands on a towel and retrieves his phone, deciding to snap a picture of the dough. Despite its appearance, he thinks Iula is going to be proud of his attempt if nothing else. He almost sends it to her and her alone, but then he reconsiders and decides to send it to their veteran group chat. He says nothing, sending the photo on its own, but he still receives some delightful encouragement from Eshiyme, a wild string of near-indecipherable emojis from Tor, and a stiff 'nice.' from Rahvun. Iula simply reacts to the image with a thumbs up, which he figures is all he's going to get until he sends an update that evening.

With one last look at the bowl, he smiles, and heads to his room to get ready for the day proper, his furred friends following at his heels.

[silver-blooded-synthetics]

What’s your aura color?

ERROL

Garnet

brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains. your essence is garnet: you are a quiet flame that dwells beneath your soft surface. self-confidence armors you; many would call you stubborn, though protective of what has come to dwell in your heart. always just a whisper away is your temper, promising to make the world bend if it would make your loved ones smile. you are the guardian. you are the volcano. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of terracotta, tawny, crimson, and umber, who share your proactive nature. you are also drawn to the vibrant indigo and marigold, who will help you grow and teach you to name what's inside of you. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of teal and hickory who are too willing to be silent.

ALMA

Umber

book spines, suits, coffee, deep soil, violins, bear fur, staircases. your essence is umber: you are strong and silent, rarely ruffled. yet, you are unmoored; tender and drifting, you are unsure of your motivation save for to do good. many find you generous and stalwart -- but melancholy. you are the keeper. you are the ungrudging. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of brown, beige, hickory, and garnet, who share your profound determination. you are also drawn to the flamboyant magenta and gold, who will help you grow and show you how to follow your heart without guilt. however, you may struggle to get along with the self-focused personalities of royal and crimson who rarely compromise.

Tagged by: @bad-decision-central​

Tagging: Anyone who would like to do it

[wexarethewalkingxdead]

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR AURA?

Rose

lace, blown kisses, milk tea, paper fans, pillows, ballet slippers, fairy wings. your essence is rose: you are the young at heart, the gentle. you cherish existing without pretense; the future seems unsteady, so instead you reminiscence about the past and live in the present. it is hard for you to grow because you feel you have already bloomed. you are the youthful. you are the dove. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of pink, magenta, pearl, and lavender, who share your idealism. you are also drawn to the practical ivory and beige, who will help you grow and show you that you can accomplish by yourself. however, you may struggle to get along with the focused personalities of sage and cream who don't watch out for you.

Beige

lattes, dry fields, footprints, easels, cat fur, pottery, fresh-baked cookies. your essence is beige: you are an even-tempered and comforting presence. you take refuge in your sanctuary and creature comforts; the warmth you exude flees from spontaneity or change. you are consistent and indulgent. you are the sleepy. you are the satiated. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of brown, umber, tawny, and ashen, who share your patient nature. you are also drawn to the expressive souls sky and cream, who will help you grow and teach you to explore new ideas. however, you may struggle to get along with the spontaneous personalities of blush and lilac who seem too frivolous.

Wine

plums, nail polish, planners, theaters, pursed lips, mosaics, sewing thread. your essence is wine: you are ruled by determination to bring your grand vision to life. you are a pillar of your chosen family; reliable and moral, there is never a situation for which you are not prepared. you are an idealist and accept nothing less of yourself. you are the activist. you are the dutiful. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of amaranth, pearl, grey, and pink, who share your need to devote to a cause. you are also drawn to the expressive orchid and mauve, who will help you grow and learn it is okay to not live up to expectation. however, you may struggle to get along with the excessive personalities of jade and fire who do not know what they truly want.

Yellow

daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon merengue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings. your essence is yellow: you are precise yet shy, putting band-aids on your cuts alone. you demand much of yourself; your self-expression feels tempered by a mold you're intended to fill. you seek an anchor to hold and keep your doubt at bay. you are the dutiful. you are the one who rises after you fall. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of cream, gold, honey, and chartreuse, who share your loyalty and compassion. you are also drawn to the sturdy red and brown, who will help you grow and learn to not question your own judgment. however, you may struggle to get along with the overly-involved personalities of pink and green who are unconscious of their own feelings.

Ivory

lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory: you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl, and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need too much stimulation and decadence.

Garnet

brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains. your essence is garnet: you are a quiet flame that dwells beneath your soft surface. self-confidence armors you; many would call you stubborn, though protective of what has come to dwell in your heart. always just a whisper away is your temper, promising to make the world bend if it would make your loved ones smile. you are the guardian. you are the volcano. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of terracotta, tawny, crimson, and umber, who share your proactive nature. you are also drawn to the vibrant indigo and marigold, who will help you grow and teach you to name what's inside of you. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of teal and hickory who are too willing to be silent.

Sky

short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes. your essence is sky: you are a hard worker and do not relent on something once you have begun. you are giving to all but yourself and pour from an empty cup; you want to be simple, self-sufficient, easy. you overflow with creativity but throw away your sketches before they're even done. you are the dauntless. you are the venturer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of blue, navy, periwinkle, and seafoam, who likewise hold themselves to high standards. you are also drawn to the self-actualizing sage and apricot, who will help you grow and relax into your feelings. however, you may struggle to get along with the strict personalities of ivory and blush who seem overly critical.

tagged by: @torntruth​ tagging: anyone that wants to do this one! 

[brianbrianbrain]

ID. Screenshot of blue highlighted Wikipedia article text: During this time Elbe began to wear female clothing, and adopted her female name and persona,[7] becoming Gerda Wegener's favourite model, in paintings of beautiful women with haunting almond-shaped eyes dressed in chic fashions. End ID.

ID. Painting of a woman wearing makeup with rosy cheeks and red lips, a red mid-thigh length form-fitting dress, and short brown heels. She is sitting on a dining chair, with one leg folded under herself and the other propped up on the adjacent chair. She has a brown bob, has a cigarette in her mouth, and is holding a queen of hearts card close to her face as she looks over her shoulder at the viewer. She is holding more cards in her other hand, and there are many cards spread face up on the table in front of her. Other objects on the table: two cone shaped wine glasses, a squat corked bottle, a small porcelian dish with cigarette butts, a blue cigarette pack, a newspaper. Several vases and jugs are on the standing shelf in the background. End ID.

ID. Black and white photo of Gerda (left) in a patterned top with fur around the end of the sleeves and the neck and a round hat, and Lilly (right) in a coat, dress shirt, and hat. Lilly is holding a cigarette near her waist in one hand, with the other popped against her waist. Behind Gerda part of her painting can be seen, which is of one woman with black hair and dressed in darker colors draping her arm over the shoulder of a woman with light hair and wearing lighter colors. End ID.

ID. A painting of a woman in a pink dress with a white frill around the waist and long white gloves with parts around the thumb and palm cut out. She is holding the brown handle of a green feather fan, resting over her shoulder. She is looking over her shoulder and her back is to the viewer. She has blonde hair done up in a bun and with curls around her face and has makeup with rosy cheeks and red lips. Background: patterned wallpaper with brightly colored flowers and birds. End ID.

ID. A painting of a woman wearing all white, with a big white bow on her front and a hat with a large brim and poofy feathers at the top, including a couple green ones. She is wearing makeup with rosy cheeks and red lips and has her eyebrows raised and head tilted so that she is looking at the viewer halfway out of the corner of her eyes. On the right, she is holding a green mask that would cover the nose and the skin around the eyes. Background: white. End ID.

getting teary eyed thinking about gerda gottlieb's paintings of her wife after she transitioned

[everythingcanadian]

Acts of Love

Pairing: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis

Rating: T

Warnings: Weight Gain, Button Popping

Summary:

For Xenodroid Thomas's button, that was already a bit weary, finally pops off. Richard is more than happy to re-stitch it. Day 25-1 of promptober: Stitch Soft domesticity. I love it.

AO3 Portal

Sewing the button back on wasn’t an issue for Richard. In fact he adored it. Made him feel useful in a way. It wasn’t for an employer. Or a child. Or another servant. It was for Thomas. The man who was currently kneading pastry dough on their kitchen counter. 

The offending button had finally gone sailing through the air that morning when Thomas leaned over in his dining chair to pet their newest addition to their household. Dinah, who had been named after a certain cat in Alice in Wonderland, had sat between his feet and mewed up at him. Her little blue eyes set in white fur begging ‘Papa’ for some scratches and hopefully a piece of breakfast sausage. As Thomas leaned over the button on his waistcoat that was trying to give up the ghost, finally did. The brown day-suit button pinged to the ground and rolled on the floor in a wide circle, enough for Dinah to chase.

“Oh dear.” Thomas’s cheeks blazed pink and he looked up at Richard. His husband in all but law. He watched as their little kitten pounced and jumped after the small brown circle.

Those apple round cheeks and soft mouth molded into a warm smile as he lowered the newspaper. His brown eyes twinkled with mirth. “It was bound to happen at one point, Dear. It needed to be restitched a long time ago. I’ll mend it for you later.”

They both noticed Thomas had gotten softer, warmer, heavier, but ultimately it made Thomas not as sharp in all ways but wit. Richard loved it. Wrapped his arms around Thomas whenever he could so he had the chance to squeeze and pet and touch. He had extra to grip during intimate times. He'd purposely leave bruises from his hands or mouth there so Thomas had something loving to look at if he ever looked in the mirror for too long. The soft praise he’d attach with it was also very nice. 

‘How’d I get so lucky to land a nice bloke like you. Charm and intelligence. Looks to swoon over- don’t deny it. You have the weight and height and that stare to use to your advantage. You can pin me with any of those things and I’m all yours.’ Richard hummed and was backed into the bedroom wall by his love. 

It was later, Richard happily dawned a thimble and deep brown thread to match the thread already used on Thomas’s waistcoat. It was a warm silence under an October afternoon. Neither of them needed to be at work. Neither of them were demanded by their new employers. 

Thomas finally broke away from being a servant and dove headfirst into being a clock and watch repairman in York. Tom had helped set it up when he knew Thomas was ready to actually leave. It was an awkward conversation. 

Richard was happy to be a tailor, a junior one currently, but one all the same. It just so happened that his royal experience held a lot of sway when he handed over his reference. The love for his work showed.

He tied off the thread and snipped it clean. He tugged the fabric around the button a few ways and smiled. He deemed it strong enough now and checked the other buttons. Nothing to worry about on any of them yet. He’d ask if he could take out the seams a little bit for Thomas. Winter was coming quickly and both of them would eat themselves sick with everything indulgent. 

As it stood, Thomas was making an apple tart with a few of their stewed and jarred apples they had fun picking last month. Richard bet they would polish the thing off in a couple days. But that just meant the winter weight was going to pack on nicely and earlier that Richard first thought. He couldn’t wait.

[haileynovablogs]

Crafting the Perfect Fall Decor for Your Home 🍂

As the crisp air begins to replace the warmth of summer and the leaves transform into vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold, there's an undeniable magic in the atmosphere – it's the enchanting season of fall. With its cozy ambiance and nostalgic charm, fall beckons us to update our living spaces with the perfect decor that captures the essence of the season. From warm color palettes to rustic accents, creating the ideal fall decor allows you to transform your home into a haven of comfort and beauty. In this blog post, we will explore the elements that make up the perfect fall decor and offer inspiring ideas to help you infuse your home with the spirit of autumn.

Color Palette: Nature's Warm Embrace

The cornerstone of any fall decor is the color palette. Autumn's natural hues evoke a sense of warmth and comfort, making it essential to choose a palette that mimics the changing leaves and cozy fireside moments. Rich tones like deep oranges, warm reds, golden yellows, and earthy browns should take center stage. Consider incorporating these shades through textiles, wall art, and decorative accessories. Additionally, don't shy away from incorporating deep greens and muted purples to add depth and contrast to your decor.

Nature-Inspired Accents: Bringing the Outdoors In

One of the most captivating aspects of fall is the visual transformation of the outdoors. Incorporating natural elements into your decor will not only capture the spirit of the season but also create a harmonious connection with nature. Start by gathering fallen branches, pinecones, acorns, and dried leaves to create stunning centerpieces and mantel displays. Arrange them in decorative baskets, glass vases, or even as wreaths to infuse your home with a touch of the outdoors. Dried cornstalks and wheat bundles can also be used to add height and texture to your decor.

Cozy Textiles: Embracing Comfort

Fall decor is all about embracing warmth and comfort, and textiles play a crucial role in achieving this ambiance. Swap out lightweight summer fabrics for cozy throws, plush cushions, and soft area rugs in textures like knits, flannels, and faux furs. Drape a warm throw over the back of your sofa and pile up cushions in varying sizes and patterns to create an inviting seating area. Consider layering rugs to add depth to your space while keeping your toes warm on chilly mornings.

Candlelit Glow: Flickering Elegance

The soft, flickering glow of candlelight can instantly transform any space into a haven of tranquility. Incorporate candles of different sizes and shapes into your fall decor to create an inviting ambiance. Opt for scented candles that evoke the aromas of the season, such as pumpkin spice, cinnamon, or apple cider. Place candles in decorative holders or lanterns and arrange them on your dining table, coffee table, and mantel to cast a warm and enchanting glow throughout your home.

Pumpkin Paradise: Whimsical Accents

No fall decor would be complete without the quintessential pumpkin. These versatile gourds come in various shapes, sizes, and colors, making them ideal for creating whimsical accents. Beyond traditional orange pumpkins, explore a range of colors like white, green, and even metallic shades to suit your decor theme. Arrange a variety of pumpkins on your doorstep, line them along your staircase, or create a captivating centerpiece by stacking different sizes on a decorative tray. For a creative twist, consider painting or embellishing pumpkins with intricate designs or typography that reflects the season.

Tablescapes: Feasting in Style

Fall is a season of gatherings and feasts, and your dining table can serve as a canvas for your fall decor creativity. Start with a textured table runner or a rustic wooden table to set the foundation. Layer on elegant dinnerware in warm tones and complement them with gold or copper-toned flatware. Intertwine natural elements like mini pumpkins, pinecones, and dried leaves with fairy lights down the center of the table for an ethereal touch. Finish the look with personalized place cards and coordinating napkin rings for a truly inviting and elegant tablescape.

Embracing the beauty of fall through decor is a delightful way to connect with the changing seasons and infuse your home with a sense of enchantment. By carefully curating a warm color palette, incorporating nature-inspired accents, embracing cozy textiles, illuminating spaces with candlelight, celebrating pumpkins, and crafting inviting tablescapes, you can create a perfect fall decor that invites you and your loved ones to revel in the magic of the season. So, gather your autumnal treasures and let your creativity flow as you transform your living space into a cozy haven that captures the essence of fall's enchantment.

[magz]

Video Description: A Victorian era child wearing a wide-brimmed hat and white dress, sitting on a junior dining chair. The child is holding an egg cup filled with cat treats.

The child is feeding little treats to a Norwegian Forest Cat / Maine Coon Cat with long brown fur. The cat is perching and jumping on the junior dining chair's tray. The video has no audio and is post-processed from monochrome physical film to have color. End ID.

First cat video ever? 1899, colorized & speed corrected.

[toomanyrobins2]

The Perfectly Awful Day

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires...a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical "Daddy Long Legs"

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: Welcome to the newest story! I have had a few asks about adding to my BatFam writings and this story has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a while. So here it is!

BatFamily masterlist // next part

Sunday…The Perfectly Awful Day. I hated the first Sunday of every month at The Bowery Home. Every floor had to be scrubbed spotless, every chair dustless, and every bed without a wrinkle. Ninety-seven squirming little orphans must be scrubbed and combed and buttoned into freshly starched ginghams; and all ninety-seven reminded of their manners, and told to say, 'Yes, sir,' 'No, sir,' whenever a trustee spoke. 

As the oldest orphan, Mother Waller often dumped all of the preparation work on me. After sending the children to the waiting room to avoid getting dirty, I ran to the kitchen to finish the sandwiches and my lemon squares. My hair started to curl around my face from the heat of the kitchen and I had no doubt that I looked like a right mess. Having kept an ear out for the arriving engines, I knew as soon as the trustees arrive and I quickly ran back upstairs to make sure the kids had stayed presentable. They were straightened up and I marched them in an orderly line to the dining room. 

As soon as the door closed behind the last child, I dropped down into the nearby window seat, letting the cool window soothe my throbbing temples. I had been on my feet since five this morning, doing everybody's bidding, scolded and hurried by a nervous matron. My hair could no longer be defined as a braid as half the hair had fallen out. As my eyes fluttered open, I saw one gentleman arriving later than most. It was hard to make him out through the snow, but even from a distance, I knew that this man was distinguished. 

Success! The day was finally over and with minimal damage. The trustees and the visiting committee had made their rounds, and read their reports, and drank their tea, and now were hurrying home to their own cheerful firesides, to forget their bothersome little charges for another month. Again, I stared out the window and imagined what kind of life I would lead if I was in their position. I could see myself wrapped in a cloak with soft fur lining the neck, just like the one I think I remember my mother owning, and the dresses that fit her taller than average frame. I would gracefully slide into the back of the car and without a word, the chauffeur would take me back to my estate, where the maids would already have a warm bath ready by the fireplace and a library full of books ready for me to get lost in. I have a spectacular imagination. It is my one escape from the dreary orphanage I live in. While Mother Waller may not see the advantages of my imagination, I know someday that I will be renowned for it. It is my constant companion in the world of loneliness. 

In the kitchen, Dick Grayson interrupts all my plans with his dreadful singing: “Y/N! You’re the wanted in the office. The office! THE OFFICE!” I immediately know the deep line between my brows is back as worry descends on me. It is never a good sign when Mother Waller wants to see us after a trustee visit. What could have gone wrong, I wondered. Were the sandwiches not thin enough? Were there shells in the lemon cakes? Had a lady visitor seen the hole in Stephanie Brown’s stocking? Had—O horrors!—one of the cherubic little babes in my own Room F sassed a trustee? I bet it was Jason Todd. 

Unfortunately, the entryway had not yet been lit for nighttime, so I stopped in front of the first mirror I could see and tried to beat the flour out of my skirt and quickly redo my braid, swinging the rope over my shoulder. In the rush to make myself presentable, I had failed to notice the tall figure also in the entryway who had been watching me since I’d come flying around the corner. Only when a car finally pulled up, did he make himself known. I only caught another fleeting glance and again the impression consisted entirely of tallness. As the car approached, head on for an instant, the glaring headlights threw his shadow sharply against the wall inside. The shadow pictured grotesquely elongated legs and arms that ran along the floor and up the wall of the corridor. A gust of wind came through and his cloak went flying. It looked, for all the world, like a huge, wavering bat. The imagery cheered me for a moment before the worry set back in. 

I would consider myself to be a fairly optimistic sort and I intend to always snatch the tiniest excuse to be amused. If one could derive any sort of entertainment out of the oppressive fact of a trustee, it was something unexpected to the good. I knocked on the door to Mother Waller’s office and was shocked to find her waiting for me with a smiling face. Affable was never the word used to describe our leader. Gesturing for me to take a seat, she immediately began a speech that had been given some thought, “Did you notice the gentleman who has just gone?' 

“I saw his back.”

“He is one of our most affluent trustees, and has given large sums of money toward the home's support. I am not at liberty to mention his name; he expressly stipulated that he was to remain unknown.” I was not used to this kind of conversation. An invitation to the office to discuss the eccentricities of trustees with the matron was simply unheard of. “This gentleman has taken an interest in several of our boys. You remember Harvey Dent and Hal Jordan? They were both sent through college by Mr.—er—this trustee, and both have repaid with hard work and success the money that was so generously expended. Other payment the gentleman does not wish. Heretofore his philanthropies have been directed solely towards the boys; I have never been able to interest him in the slightest degree in any of the girls in the institution, no matter how deserving. He does not, I may tell you, care for girls.”

'No, ma'am,' it seemed some reply was expected at this point. “To-day at the regular meeting, the question of your future was brought up.' Mother Waller allowed a moment of silence to fall, “Usually, as you know, the children are not kept after they are sixteen, but an exception was made in your case. You had finished our school at fourteen, and having done so well in your studies it was determined to let you go on in the village high school.” I did not understand why the matron was retelling my own history to me, I had in fact been there and knew what happened. Some would even consider me the main character in that little tale. “Now you are finishing that, and of course, the asylum cannot be responsible any longer for your support. As it is, you have had two years more than most.'

I chose not to comment on the fact that some details were overlooked. I had worked hard for my board these extra years. My education was not a priority, instead, my responsibility to the home came first. Today was a perfect example. “As I say, the question of your future was brought up and your record was discussed—thoroughly discussed.” She looked down at me with accusatory eyes as though she was a prosecutor and I a prisoner in the dock. I quickly switched to a guilty facade as that seemed to be what was expected. “Of course, the usual disposition of one in your place would be to put you in a position where you could begin to work, but you have done well in school in certain branches; it seems that your work in English has even been brilliant. Miss Kyle, who is on our visiting committee, is also on the school board; she has been talking with your rhetoric teacher, and made a speech in your favor. She also read aloud an essay that you had written entitled, ‘Blue Sunday’.” Oh…this time I know why I look guilty. The essay in question had been about days such as this current one, where I was run from dawn to dusk. 

Mother Waller continued on her tangent. “It seemed to me that you showed little gratitude in holding up to ridicule the institution that has done so much for you. Had you not managed to be funny I doubt if you would have been forgiven. But fortunately for you, Mr.—, that is, the gentleman who has just gone—appears to have an immoderate sense of humor. On the strength of that impertinent paper, he has offered to send you to college.'

“To college?” I thought my heart was going to burst with excitement. I was going to leave!

The matron nodded. 'He waited to discuss the terms with me. They are unusual. The gentleman, I may say, is erratic. He believes that you have originality, and he is planning to educate you to become a writer.”

“A writer?” At this moment, I was numb and dumb. Doomed to only repeat words spoken at me.

“That is his wish. Whether anything will come of it, the future will show. He is giving you a very liberal allowance, almost, for a girl who has never had any experience in taking care of money, too liberal. But he planned the matter in detail, and I did not feel free to make any suggestions. You are to remain here through the summer, and Miss Kyle has kindly offered to superintend your outfit. Your board and tuition will be paid directly to the college, and you will receive in addition during the four years of education, $35 a month. The money will be sent to you by the gentleman's private secretary once a month, and in return, you will write a letter of acknowledgment once a month with a report of your studies.” She continued to talk, but I couldn’t pay attention. I was going to college! And I would be a writer! I only snapped out of my thought because the matron had stopped speaking. I nodded and like a little cloud, I floated out the door.