#crinkle scarves

[womenfashionandstyle]

Different Types of Crinkle Scarves for Ladies in the UK

If you're a fashion-forward woman in the UK, scarves are likely an essential accessory in your wardrobe. Among the various scarf options available, crinkle scarves have gained popularity for their unique textures and versatile styling options. In this article, we'll explore the different types of crinkle scarves for ladies in the UK, highlighting their features, benefits, and how you can incorporate them into your outfits.

Introduction to Crinkle Scarves

Crinkle scarves, also known as crinkled or crushed scarves, are a trendy and fashionable accessory loved by ladies all over the UK. These scarves are known for their wrinkled appearance, which adds texture and dimension to any outfit. The unique crinkled texture is achieved through special weaving techniques or chemical treatments, giving each scarf a distinct look.

Why Crinkle Scarves are Trending in the UK

Crinkle scarves have become a fashion staple in the UK for several reasons. Firstly, their versatility allows them to be worn in different styles, from casual to formal, making them suitable for any occasion. Additionally, the diverse range of fabrics and designs available makes it easy for women to find the perfect crinkle scarf that complements their individual style and preferences.

Different Fabrics of Crinkle Scarves

Crinkle scarves come in various fabrics, each offering a different look and feel. Here are some popular options:

Silk Crinkle Scarves

Silk crinkle scarves are luxurious and lightweight, making them ideal for adding a touch of elegance to any outfit. They drape beautifully and have a subtle sheen that enhances their appeal.

Cotton Crinkle Scarves

Cotton crinkle scarves are perfect for everyday wear, as they are soft, breathable, and comfortable. They come in various colors and patterns, making them a favorite choice for casual styling.

Linen Crinkle Scarves

Linen crinkle scarves are a great option for warm weather. The fabric is highly absorbent and breathable, providing a cool and airy feel even on hot days.

Wool Crinkle Scarves

Wool crinkle scarves are perfect for chilly winters. They offer excellent insulation and a cozy feel, making them a stylish choice for staying warm and fashionable.

Synthetic Crinkle Scarves

Synthetic crinkle scarves are often more budget-friendly and can mimic the look of natural fabrics. They are available in a wide range of designs and are easy to care for.

Various Designs and Patterns

Crinkle scarves are available in numerous eye-catching designs and patterns, allowing you to express your personal style. Some popular options include:

Floral Crinkle Scarves

Floral patterns add a feminine and romantic touch to your ensemble. Whether it's tiny blossoms or large blooms, floral crinkle scarves exude charm and elegance.

Striped Crinkle Scarves

Striped patterns offer a classic and timeless appeal. They can be bold and vibrant or subtle and sophisticated, depending on the color and width of the stripes.

Geometric Crinkle Scarves

Geometric patterns, such as squares, triangles, or chevron, create a modern and edgy look. They are perfect for those who prefer a contemporary style.

Polka Dot Crinkle Scarves

Polka dots bring a playful and fun element to your outfit. They can range from small dots to larger ones, offering various styling possibilities.

Paisley Crinkle Scarves

Paisley patterns have a bohemian flair, adding an artistic and eclectic touch to your attire. They come in various color combinations to suit different tastes.

Styling Tips for Crinkle Scarves

Crinkle scarves are incredibly versatile, and here are some styling ideas to make the most of them:

Casual Day Out

For a relaxed daytime look, pair a cotton crinkle scarf with a plain white tee, denim jeans, and sneakers. This effortless combination exudes chic simplicity.

Formal Office Attire

Choose a silk crinkle scarf in a sophisticated color to elevate your office ensemble. Drape it over your shoulders or tie it neatly around your neck for a professional look.

Evening Glam

Opt for a shimmering crinkle scarf for an evening event. Silk or synthetic scarves with metallic accents can instantly add glamour to your outfit.

Beach Vacation

Linen crinkle scarves are perfect for beach getaways. Use one as a chic sarong over your swimsuit or wear it as a head wrap to protect yourself from the sun.

Winter Warmth

Wrap a cozy wool crinkle scarf around your neck for extra warmth during colder months. Choose one in a bold color to brighten up your winter outfits.

How to Care for Crinkle Scarves

To keep your crinkle scarves looking their best, follow these care tips:

Washing and Drying

Hand wash delicate fabrics like silk and wool in cold water with a gentle detergent. For cotton and linen scarves, a machine wash on a gentle cycle is usually safe. Always air dry to avoid damage.

Ironing Tips

Avoid ironing crinkle scarves, as it can ruin their unique texture. Instead, gently shake and reshape the scarf while it's damp.

Proper Storage

Store your crinkle scarves flat or loosely rolled to maintain their texture. Avoid hanging them, as the weight can stretch the fabric.

Buying Guide: Choosing the Perfect Crinkle Scarf

When shopping for a crinkle scarf, consider the following factors:

Consider the Fabric

Choose a fabric that suits the season and occasion. Silk and wool scarves work well for formal events, while cotton and linen scarves are more suitable for casual outings. Synthetic scarves can be a budget-friendly option and are often versatile for various occasions.

Selecting the Right Length

The length of your crinkle scarf can significantly impact your overall look. For a classic and timeless style, opt for a medium-length scarf that can be draped around your neck once or tied in a loose knot. Longer scarves allow for more creative styling options, such as wrapping them multiple times around your neck or draping them over your shoulders as a shawl.

Color Coordination

When choosing a crinkle scarf, consider your existing wardrobe and select colors that complement your outfits. Neutral colors like black, white, gray, and beige are versatile and can be paired with a wide range of clothing. Alternatively, bold and vibrant colors can add a pop of excitement to your ensemble, especially when you're wearing neutral or monochromatic outfits.

Seasonal Adaptability

Keep in mind the season when purchasing a crinkle scarf. Lighter fabrics like silk, cotton, and linen are ideal for spring and summer, as they offer breathability and comfort. On the other hand, wool scarves are perfect for fall and winter, providing warmth and insulation during chilly weather.

Budget-Friendly Options

Consider shopping during sales or exploring online marketplaces for unique and cost-effective finds.

Where to Shop for Crinkle Scarves in the UK

Finding the perfect crinkle scarf in the UK is a delightful experience, with numerous options available both in-store and online. Here are some fantastic places to buy women’s scarves in the Uk:

Local Boutiques

Visit boutique stores in your area that specialize in accessories and fashion. Local boutiques often carry unique and handmade scarves, allowing you to support local artisans while finding one-of-a-kind pieces.

High-End Retailers

For premium and designer crinkle scarves, high-end retailers offer luxurious options that exude elegance and sophistication. You can find renowned designer brands with a wide selection of high-quality scarves to choose from.

Online Marketplaces

Online shopping platforms provide convenience and access to a vast range of crinkle scarves from various sellers and brands. You can explore different styles, colors, and fabrics with just a few clicks.You can buy crinkle scarves online from Modora.

Artisanal Fairs and Markets

Keep an eye out for local artisanal fairs and markets that showcase handmade products. Here, you might discover unique crinkle scarves crafted with love and attention to detail.

The Enduring Charm of Crinkle Scarves

Crinkle scarves continue to be a popular accessory among women in the UK due to their versatility, stylishness, and the ability to add texture to any outfit. Whether you're dressing up for a formal event, enjoying a casual day out, or preparing for a beach vacation, there's a crinkle scarf to suit every occasion and personal taste.

With the wide variety of fabrics, designs, and colors available, you can easily find a crinkle scarf that reflects your unique style and elevates your fashion game. So, embrace the charm of crinkle scarves and make them an essential part of your accessory collection!

Conclusion

Crinkle scarves are a fashion-forward and captivating accessory that has captivated women in the UK. From silk and wool scarves for formal occasions to cotton and linen scarves for casual outings, there's a crinkle scarf to match every style and preference. With their unique textures and various designs, crinkle scarves add depth and dimension to any outfit, making them a must-have accessory for fashion enthusiasts.

Remember to consider the fabric, length, color coordination, and seasonal adaptability when choosing the perfect crinkle scarf. If you're feeling creative, try making your own crinkle scarf using simple DIY techniques. Additionally, explore local boutiques, high-end retailers, online marketplaces, and artisanal fairs to find the perfect crinkle scarf that complements your individual style.

[silkfab1]

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[chickenisamazing]

Remains to be seen if I will become a vela girlie

[kenzieluvsnanami]

girl i want a cozy nanami drabble with some smut.... NOW.

autumn ☆

cw // vv self indulgent, set in cold, cold autumn, you guys come home from work and he eats you out and then you eat (FOOD) dass it. (18+) // wc 2.4k

it was the finallly end of a long work day. you could feel a dull ache in the soles of your feet as you made the laboursome, arduous (it was only 20 minutes) walk back to your apartment.

your apartment.

it was weird to think of the place in which you resided as such. if we wanted to get technical about it, this was your boyfriend's residence originally.

the only reason why you could call it yours was his insistence on spending as much time as possible with you - your dates spanning days on end as the two of you were reluctant to separate at the end of them, preferring to just pack an overnight bag so you could spend that much longer with each other.

eventually it got to the point where the overnight bag started to look more like you were ready for a long-haul overseas flight, with your dates turning into life together, meeting up and the end of each others’ respective shifts and waving each other off at the start of a new one the next day. it was once you realised how perfectly your lives intertwined that you made the last ever trip to your apartment, belongings packed away in boxes rather than bags as you began your new life in what was now your apartment.

you fumbled clumsily for the key in your coat, silently cursing the cold, crisper climate of autumn for forcing you to bundle up so excessively - brown woollen coat buttoned down with the belt tied tight, a cream scarf encircling your neck and the lower portion of your face to keep from freezing your ears off.

even though it was not yet winter, as soon as you could feel that temperature change from summer to fall, the winter coats, boots, scarves, hats and mittens all got pulled out from the back of the closet. whilst your coat and scarf had kept you nice and cosy on your walk home from the office, they were now severely hindering your escape from the harsh cold to the protected warmth of the apartment.

plunging your hands into the ungodly amount of pockets you were now discovering your coat had was taking up most of your attention, which is probably why you hadn’t noticed a presence behind you; an arm leisurely reaching over your shoulder and unlocking the door with a practised ease that only one person could possibly hold…

your head whipped backwards to see who this intruder was, only to catch sight of a face that you had grown to know all too well - umber eyes slightly crinkling in amusement at your shock as he leaned forward to greet you properly and apologise for the panic caused, a soft kiss pressed to the side of your pouted lips.

that one kiss quickly turned to another and then one more, creeping slowly towards the centre of your lips. you tried to stay unrelenting to his advances, still annoyed that he’d been able to scare you like that. large hands cupped your face as he drew you closer to his downturned face, slightly turning your face to the side, allowing his tongue better access - running along your firmly closed lips; seeking out a vulnerable point that would let him in.

unfortunately, your stubbornness could only last so long as a soft stroke of his fingertips along the edge of your face caused you to gently sigh, the warmth of his hands on your icy face rendering you defenceless. sliding his tongue in with a muted moan as he allowed his hands to lazily meander down your frame, smoothing down your coat over your curves. hands coming to a rest at the small of your back, firmly pressing you into his front as the two of you leisurely made out on the porch - the opened door casting a golden light on you.

after what felt like hours, your boyfriend slowly pulled himself away, his swollen, pink lips quirking up as he took in your dazed expression; an improvement from your previously furrowed brows.

“did i startle you?” he queried, well intentioned but you could both hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

whilst you wouldn’t call your boyfriend a comedian, when the opportunity allowed he could be… amusing.

in his defence, he had been walking quite loudly - a slight turn of your head allowed for you to see the trail of crunched leaves left in his wake which would have normally given you an apt amount of time to be alerted to his presence… if you hadn’t been so occupied by your stupid pockets.

“ken..i swear to god, do not do that again”

the hallway was filled with muffled chatter as the two of you discussed your individual days - lamenting about lazy bosses, entitled coworkers and broken copiers.

whilst both of you shared, kento much preferred to hear about the specifics of your day than share about his own; his follow up questions to your small quips leading to lengthy discussions in the kitchen as the two of you deliberated on what to eat tonight.

“welll, i mean i never thought about what her home life was like. i guess i just thought she was just a bitch for no reason” a rich laugh rumbled from his chest as you said that, the bluntness of your words being something that he found endearing.

you were perched on the marble island, intently watching your boyfriend chop the ingredients for what was going to soon be dinner.

you didn’t know what looked more delicious - the food or nanami; blazer discarded on the sofa, leaving him in just a crisp, white shirt and a pair of strained slacks. he had rolled up his sleeves to avoid staining his shirt exposing muscular forearms that slightly strained as he chopped. his large stature was emphasised by the way his back seemed to taper in, tailored shirt hanging of broad shoulders and getting slimmer as you get further down his back.

now whilst you hated to see your boyfriend go, you also loved to watch him leave, especially when he was wearing these slacks, the way they wrapped around his thighs and butt making him look like a christmas present that you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on. as he glided around the kitchen, you found yourself getting more and more hungrier but for something a little less edible.

you honestly had no idea how long you’d been sat there just staring, your thoughts being interrupted by the deep, resonant baritone of your boyfriend's voice -no clue what he’d actually said, wordlessly following him into living room as he waited expectantly.

“don’t you want to sit down?” an eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down, your shifty expression usually meaning you had been caught ogling - but as far as he knew, that was as far as you wanted to go.

you slouched into your usual position in the corner of the sofa as kento nestled himself next to you, arm reaching around the back of your head to pull you in closer. whilst this affection was lovely… it definitely didn't help keep the thoughts in your mind pure, resorting to squeezing your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure that was starting to build up.

now if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your own thoughts, you would’ve caught the side-long glance your boyfriend had been giving to you, trying to gauge why you had such a vacant, antsy expression - impassively watching what he thought was a movie you had really wanted to see.

now that he’d thought about it, he’s definitely seen that look on your face before, the slight scrunch in your brows only visible when you couldn’t have something you really wanted... and if it meant what he thought it meant, there was only one way to proceed.

“my love, you told me your feet were quite sore. did you want me to give them a massage?” innocently probed your boyfriend, your legs raising themselves as you shuffled down to allow them to lay limp in his lap.

his fingers skilfully worked, rubbing and kneading out the discomfort from your soles; the warmth radiating from his hands combined with massage felt sooooo good, eyes falling shut as your head lolled back.

once satisfied he had fully dissipated the discomfort in your feet, your boyfriend decided to test the waters, lifting up the leg closest to him and pressing a kiss into the inner ankle - not missing the way you slightly shuddered under his grip. hazel eyes scrutinising your small frame; the exaggerated rise and fall of your chest, the way your face was scrunched in pleasure and the way you tried to subtly rub your thighs together…

his first theory was correct.

he moved away, a whine falling from your lips at the loss of contact, eyes opening to see why only to find blond tresses nestled between your legs; nipping and licking on the smooth skin.

ah.

you’d thought you mastered the art of subtlety but it seems that as always, your boyfriend had painfully seen through you. although you weren’t all too upset about that fact, the way his mouth his travelled up your legs making you feel more and more flustered.

soft moans escaped your lips as he finally reached your upper thighs, fingers digging into the fat of them as he teasingly looked back up at your dazed expression.

“seems like someone felt a little needy today, hm?” his voice a low rumble that vibrated right through you, your legs hooking around his shoulders and pressing into his back, in an attempt to force him into the one place where you needed him.

“that’s not how you ask for something, darling…” whilst nanami tried to put up a front as if he was not at all affected by your yearning, you could see this was not the case - his pupils dilated as he gazed upon your leaking cunt, shallow breaths fanning across your inner thigh.

“let’s try to use our words, okay?” tone switching from his usual coolness to a much more heated, authoritative one as you tried to calm yourself enough to formulate a coherent sentence.

“tell me what you want me to do” he ordered as slender fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, pulling them down at an agonisingly slow pace.

“i- i want you to…. ngh…” your breaths had turned into pants as your panties had been pulled off, oozing cunt getting more and more sensitive as it was exposed to the cooler air in the room.

your boyfriend paused, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“….eat me out” your voice trailing off into a whisper, the room falling completely silent for a moment - the only sound being your combined heavy breaths.

seeming pleased with your answer, you watched in awe as your courteous, sweet boyfriend gathered a fat wad of saliva in his mouth and allowed it to gradually dribble down his lips onto your twitching cunt, eyes locked onto yours as his saliva slid down across into the vast expanse of your inner thighs.

you felt slightly emboldened under his gaze, biting your lip as you removed your blouse; leaving you in just a skirt and lace bra. you didn’t miss the way his eye faintly twitched at your movements, his head positioned in a way so that he could still hold eye-contact as he dragged his tongue along your inner folds, close to your throbbing clit but just around it - teasing you.

“mmmh, you always taste so good” murmured nanami as he continued his teasing licks around your pussy, your back arching into the sofa as you threaded your hands into his blond tresses, desperately trying to guide his head to your swollen bud.

your nails scratched at the back of his head as you tugged on his hair, drawing out an extended, low groan that reverberated back into your sensitive cunt; the stimulation becoming so intense.

your boyfriend finally decided to move to your neglected bud, spit and slick sodden lips dragging along to your clit - sucking hard.

your mewls had increased in volume and pitch as the pleasure became so overwhelming, your orgasm creeping up on you; the pressure seeming to almost all gather at once as you cried out

“ohmygodddddddd, ken im g-going to…” you were gasping for air at this point, eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, anything to prolong the blissful experience of feeling your boyfriend's plush lips slide along your swollen cunt.

“mmh hmm baby, just let go for me” murmured your boyfriend, the vibrations of his voice pushing you over the edge; head lolled back over the side of the couch as you came hard, walls spasming around nothing as you fell deep into the mind-numbing pleasure of your orgasm.

after what felt like hours, you opened your eyes to find yourself clean and changed, work clothes swapped out for your favourite set of pyjamas. the delicious aroma of what had to be dinner being what roused you from your light slumber, slippers padding along the hallway as you crept back to the kitchen.

“something smells good…” you mused aloud, stepping further into the kitchen to be greeted with two heaving bowls of pasta on the dining table.

“someone was sleepy, hm?” nanami raised an eyebrow in jest as he placed large palms on your shoulders, gently guiding your weary body to the chair he’d pulled out for you - tucking you in as you sat.

he silently filled both of your glasses as you contentedly ate, your conversation getting more and more animated as the food hit your empty stomach, a blissful smile on your boyfriend's face as he watched you hurriedly slurp down the glass of merlot he’d poured, slender fingers sliding his own glass towards you, knowing your penchant for a deep bodied wine.

dishes were washed and left on the drying rack as the two of you quickly cleaned the countertops and stove, eager to clamber into your shared bed and properly rest.

you washed your faces and brushed your teeth in tandem, your boyfriend crouching down slightly so you could properly apply your snail serum under his eyes and temples, your skincare routine becoming something that the entire household was expected to adopt.

finally it was time for bed. the small lamp was on as your boyfriend wore his small reading spectacles, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he emerged himself in the latest victorian novel to his collection. you nestled yourself deeper into your cashmere sheets as you felt yourself being drawn deeper and deeper into a heavy, peaceful slumber… in your apartment.

a/n :: currently in my inactive era 😩 schools been kicking my asssss and its only been a few weeks.... pt!sukuna willl come soon but honestly i can only write when im in the mood and recently i haventtttt been 🌚 anyways this was inspired by all the incredible nanami ff ive been greedily guzzling down the past few days on ao3

[musamora]

— 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖝-𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖍 𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖙𝖘 ₊˚⊹

pairing: nikolai gogol (bungou stray dogs) x fem!reader

content warning(s): not-safe for work content (18+ MDNI), lingerie, sex toys, vaginal fingering, french kissing, choking, light bdsm, top!nikolai, bondage, blindfolds, impact play, bruises, vibrators, degradation, praise, cunnilingus, cum eating, overstimulation, subspace, creampies, aftercare

word count: 3k+

author's note: i don't know what demon possessed me while writing this, but i would like to thank it because MAN this came out steamy.

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

"Do you like them? I picked them each out by hand."

A festive night of gift-giving underneath a star-sparkling tree twists into some spicy seasonal bedroom moments between you and a certain jester. Knowing Nikolai, he's always finding new ways to turn up the heat.

Within the heart of a festively adorned living room, lights sparkling upon satin furnishings and iridescent ornaments, a tree stood as its masterful centerpiece—the embodiment of holiday enchantment. An assembly of flashes adorned every bough, casting a warm glow against the bubbling couple that bundled together below the branches. The more lively of the pair, a snowy-headed jester in striped pajamas, tore open his presents with the gleefulness of a child. One after another, checkered pants and sweaters, dotted scarves and bows, and magician kits with decadent engravings sat in piles surrounding the both of you.

"Do you like them, Коля?" you managed to ask between giggles, your skin prickled by the fervent kisses from your boyfriend.

"Like them? I love them!" he beamed, rocking back and forth on his bum.

His nose nuzzled into your neck, trailing butterfly kisses that made goosebumps prickle on the side of your throat. "You're far too good to me, dove." He had a dopey expression on his face, so absolutely love-sick as he stared up at you between drunken lashes—and then he remembered that you hadn't opened any of your gifts yet. He shot up from the floor with the speed of a rocket.

"My turn!"

His feet pounded against the floor as he dashed to the tree, sorting through the mountains of presents with a struggle despite the obvious difference between his crudely wrapped boxes and yours. Some others ended up rushing out of his overcoat in waves, swirling into a large pile on the floor at your feet.

You struck him with a raised brow. "Do I even want to know where these came from?"

His only response was a smirk, and you decided the best course of action was not to question him any further—you'd rather not track down the list of people he had stolen from during the holiday season, so you rolled the brief guilt away with practiced ease. Instead, you began to open your own presents, most of which you had correctly guessed would be accessories and makeup. Nikolai loved seeing you all pretty for him; he always said he enjoyed dressing up his dove in fancy clothes. You had looked into the next box, assuming it would be the same—and in your defense, you were mostly right. However, you were not expecting to pull out a lacy baby doll top. You peered around its sheer cloth to look at a suddenly still Nikolai, his smirk deepening into something much more suspicious.

"Lingerie?"

"Like it? It was made especially for you."

You didn't comment, staring at the beautiful lacework before settling it into your lap with care, shifting the last box over. It loomed over, much larger than the rest, and your hands trembled. The box was quite heavy, despite the obvious crinkle paper shaking around inside. You cracked the lid open, slowly peering in, and your eyes widened—you certainly had not expected that. Without thinking, your thighs clenched together as your heart raced at the sight.

"Look through them, dove."

The entire box was basically a model display of sex toys—vibrators, dildos, restraints, blindfolds, lube—anything you could think of. Through the sudden haze of disbelief and lust, you thought you hallucinated the sensation stirring in your lower half, only to realize that a certain someone was thumbing at your clit. You didn't even have to glance down to know Nikolai was using his ability in his favorite way.

"Do you like them? I picked them each out by hand." A finger dipped between your soaked folds, tracing smooth circles inside your pussy as he gathered slick on one after another. You released an airy moan at the stubborn sensation, unable to buck your hips as Nikolai stilled them, sweeping his unoccupied thumb across your panted lips.

"You're so easy to rile up, dove," he muttered, taking advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth, practically sliding it down your throat as his desperation became apparent, the need to consume you whole unraveling in his searing touches as he reveled in the way you slowly came apart.

"So pretty for me. моя гарна дівчина," he hummed like it was a little tune, twisting the straps of the lingerie in his fingers as he parted from the kiss with a string of saliva. "But you'd look even better in this little number."

You rose to your feet with his help, yelping as he pushed you towards the bathroom with a curt smack to your ass, his demeanor rapidly changing back to the comedic man you knew.

"I'll be waiting in the bedroom!"

The sheer material of the skimpy lace seemed to be woven from frosted moonlight itself, a subtle iridescence dancing along intricate handiwork. Its hem, a cascade of diaphanous layers, swirled underneath your bust to perk up your cleavage while maintaining a semblance of humility. You couldn't deny that it slipped on easily, fitting to your figure to flatter your breasts elegantly—who knows how much measuring Nikolai had to do to find the perfect size.

Your newfound confidence made it easier to slip out of the bathroom with a click, but your treacherous journey down the hall brought back your bout of nerves. You knew Nikolai was unexpected and kinky—two of his fondest traits—but you had not expected any of this in the slightest. With a deep breath, you peeked into your shared bedroom, mentally preparing yourself to enter a den of sin. However, your jaw dropped as your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, hysterical laughter leaving your lips.

"Y-You look so—"

The white-haired man had splayed himself on the bed in his whole naked glory, stiffened cock and all; a rose bit between his teeth and petals crumbled beneath the weight of his body, condensed into a huge pool in the center of the sheets.

"Don't be mean," he pouted between bitten teeth, swiping the flower and petals away from the bed. "I did this all for you."

"S-Sorry, sorry," you stumbled through shattered breaths, not apologetic in the slightest. He was absolutely ridiculous, but that only added to his peculiar charm. You placed a peck on his cheek, striking the sulky jester with a fond smile. "You know I love you, right?"

Nikolai's frown melted back down into that same airheaded expression from earlier, like that of a dorky puppy. His hands cupped over your own as your fingers traced his lashline, heart rate skyrocketing as he cooed at the sheer difference in size between your fingers. It would take a couple of your fingers to even—

"Hmm. You're just the sweetest little thing, aren't you?"

He pressed kisses along the wrinkles of your palms before dropping your hands from his grasp, his saccharine eyes hardening into a predatory stare. You froze as he circled around your body like a vulture, oogling at how the lingerie cupped your figure perfectly—he knew it would; you always looked beautiful in anything in his eyes. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, fists clenched as his mind raced with the dirtiest of thoughts. He hadn't planned this far ahead, but his body and cock acted before his mind.

"You're so beautiful, dove. Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?" he whispered, tipping you back until you were pressed flush to his chest. You tried to ignore the way his cock curved against your ass as if already prepared to take you, but it was too early. There was always some kind of game to play first.

"Can you feel what you do to me?"

"Коля—"

His breath prickled your skin, the hair on the back of your neck rising. "Fuck, dove." He trailed brisk kisses along your shoulder blades, a hand brushing up your cleavage to wrap around your delicate throat, making light squeezes that had your thighs clenching. "I'll be makin' you scream my name in a minute."

"A small quiz for you, sweet one." You shuddered as he nipped at your skin. "How many times can I make you cream on these toys until you begin to cry for my cock?"

The low timber of his voice made you shudder. "К-Коля."

You groaned out into the open air as he latched onto your throat. "Quiet, dove." His finger raised your chin, creating a sweet ache as you craned your head to peer into his striking, mismatched eyes.

Fuck. This had to be one of his favorite views. You stared up at him between hooded lashes; your lips parted as your chest rose between tense breaths, eyes blown out with lust as you hung onto his every word.

So fuckin' sweet.

"Only good sluts get dicked down." You gulped down your nerves as his grasp on your throat tightened. "So you better behave and lie down on the bed. Legs spread."

Without a moment of hesitation, you obeyed his request, lying on your back with your legs spread against the soft blankets. His mouth watered as he peered down at the wet patch evident through the fabric of your panties, beads of slick dripping down your thighs and the underside of your ass.

"Wider."

You spread them more, but it didn't seem to be enough as he tutted down at you with a mischievous grin. "Not wide enough, love." He smirked. "But don't worry. Let me help."

You eyed him carefully as he fished through the box of toys, eyes widening as he pulled out some of the silk restraints, testing their strength with a teasing tug. His fingers caressed the soft skin of your thighs, nails tracing down towards your ankles as he pried your legs apart, gleeful to feel you tremble beneath his slightest touch as he tied you to the bedposts. He copied the same actions with your hands, binding your wrists together over your head.

"Stay still," he muttered as a reminder, lifting your head to tie another strip around your eyes, forcing you into complete and utter darkness. You moved your fingers, your sensitivity heightened to compensate for your lack of sight. His nails traced the divots of your waist, drawing circles against the exposed areas of your breasts, hips, and thighs, adoring the meek whimpers that remained lodged in your throat.

He landed a harsh slap to your thigh, chuckling as you shuddered underneath him. "Be good, кохана. Be nice and sweet for me."

The sensation of his lips tingled your skin, caressing every part as if he was admiring a glorious Renaissance painting. He tongued and teased your flesh in torturous strokes, swathing your body in bruises as he took his time reaching your sweet center. The impatient part of you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to fuck you already, but that would only prolong the suffering, so you endured—the best rewards always came to those who held out the longest. He pressed his fingertips against your soaked panties, palming your pussy as he pushed them aside, musing at your honeyed whines.

Your heart echoed inside your chest as the room went still, those same heated hands drifting away from your skin, away from the place you so desperately wanted them to be. But then, through the thickened fog of panted breaths and subtle arousal, was a faint buzz, followed by the return of one of the hands pinning down your thighs.

"I need you to remain completely still, dove. If you can sit there and be quiet, you'll come closer to getting what you want. Understand me?"

You nodded quickly, head hovering up despite the blindfold as if to peer at the object between your legs, only to slam your head back against the bed, suppressing a moan as a rabbit vibrator circled your clit, collecting your slick on its silicon surface. It was pure torture as he repeatedly drew it away from your aching pussy, instead teasing the outside of your folds.

You were ready for him to fuck you already. You needed him to—but he never gave in to demands or pleas despite enjoying those desperate cries for more. You'd have to play his games. So you sat there and took it.

He hummed a gentle tune as he worked the toy around your clit in rhythmic, circular motions, occasionally messing with the speed before turning it back down. You let out a huff of confusion as it left your clit at the cusp of release, too hot and bothered to connect the dots as your mouth opened to question him—

"A-Ahn–! Коля, fu-fuck–!"

"Shut your mouth."

He shoved the vibrator completely inside, twisting it onto its highest setting as he worked it in-and-out of your weeping pussy, cackling as you sputtered and pulled against your restraints. Your thighs trembled under his bruising grip, slick leaking from your cunt as the dizzying sensation of bliss started to overtake your brain.

You choked down a cry as he smacked your thigh hard. "Have some self-restraint, slut," he murmured with a devilish coo, soothing your inflamed skin with a harsh grope. "I won't fuck you if you move again, so behave."

It took every part of your willpower not to buck your hips against the deliberately slow tempo of the vibrator, your muscles taut as you tightened your grip on your restraints, saliva slipping from the corner of your lips. You wore your bottom lip between your teeth, tasting metallic on your tongue to stifle your cries as you came on the toy. Without a moment to lose as you tried to breathe, your panties were pulled from their place nestled against your cunt, landing on the floor on the opposite end of the room as your pussy greeted the cold air, dribbles of cum spilling from your folds and staining the sheets.

Nikolai hated the idea of wasting even a single drop, his own body twitching as pre-cum spilled out from his throbbing cock, which he briefly palmed in his hand. His mouth attached to your clit like a starved man, feasting on your cum as he attempted to drink every last drop. You panted as his tongue dipped into your folds, teeth teasing your clit.

"Move. Fuck my mouth, sweet girl. Let me taste you."

He slurped at every last drop, relishing in the salacious swivel of your hips as you bucked into his mouth. "N-Niko—, please—p-please." Broken moans spilled out from your lips, begging him for more. "N-Need you, I need you—God, Коля–p-please–!"

Nothing seemed to be enough as the heated sensation between your legs intensified, your stomach coiling. His fingers dug into your skin, pinning your hips down as he feasted, devouring the sight of your pleasure-filled panic as you attempted to chase your own high, only for him to push against you harder. Your peak was brought about through slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, a loud sob leaving your lips as he swallowed your second orgasm.

He would take everything you would give him. Everything you could give him.

In those moments of blissed haze, his carnivorous eyes observing as your body attempted to recoup from the ecstasy—fingers twisted in their binds as you hung onto the last threads of reality, breath evening out as you were brought back down to earth, muscles slackening as you regained the remnants of your will—he knew what he wanted to do. Had to do.

You stiffened with a groan as the blindfold was untied from your face, eyes settling in dizzy circles as your arms and legs were unbound. Your arms raised to reach out to him, to touch him, but he beat you to it, fingers intertwining with your own as he pinned them beside your head, his face buried into your neck as he panted, trying to control himself. Soft, desperate kisses seared your skin once more, drawing a yelp from you as he bit down.

"So fuckin' good," he moaned. "God—dove, I'm gonna fuck you so hard. You'll have no choice but to unravel."

Your legs quaked as the head of his cock settled between your folds, teasing your entrance. "I'm gonna break you." He squeezed your hands as your breath quickened. "And you'll cry for me like a dumb whore, unable to move as you cream on my cock."

He buried himself inside with a stuttered groan, heaving at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him. You were more than soaked; your gushy pussy was practically melting around him. It felt so fucking good. His eyes rolled back as he felt your nails dig into the skin of his back, reddened lines trailing up his spine.

"F-Fuck—too much! T-Too much. Коля!"

He folded your thighs over, slamming you into a mating press, watching with fascination as his cock disappeared into your pussy with each thrust, creating faint divots in your stomach as he bottomed out.

He pressed down against your belly, cooing as you squirmed against his hand. "Look at you, dove." Tears streamed down your cheeks as choked sobs escaped your lips. He kissed some of them up, licking at the salty drops with a pant, cock throbbing at the sound of your cries.

"S-Shit, I'm gonna—!"

"Cum f'r me, pretty." His pace increased, hitting your sweet spot. "Just like that."

He groaned as his thrusts stuttered, spilling his cum inside of you as he brought you back to the peak of bliss one last time, moaning breathlessly into his mouth as he twisted his tongue with yours. His brows furrowed as he settled himself, slipping out of your gushing walls, trying not to harden at the sight of your combined cum. He sighed, lying on top of you with a softened smile.

He pressed his hand to your cheek, eyes adoring your state of love-drunk bliss. Your eyes hazy and glazed over, your hair disheveled and tangled up, your words stuttered and muttered out—his pretty girl. Your body desperately attempted to recover, but unlike last time, it struggled on its own.

Seems like he'd have to put you back together.

He cooed. "You're floating, малятко." His lips pressed cold kisses into your feverish skin. "Come back down to me."

You groaned, tired fingers latching onto his own. "You did so good, dove." He pecked your temple, heart twisting at the small smile that managed to perk up onto your lips. "So fuckin' good. Took me so well."

His hands dipped into his overcoat, which he had set expressly for this occasion. He pulled out a water bottle and a wet cloth, bracing your head as you took small sips. "Sit up, pretty one." You barely managed to drink a drop, eyes fluttering closed as he tried to stir you. "Take a sip. Your throat will be sore tomorrow."

He pulled at the rag, wiping off some of the sweat and cum that coated your skin. "Shhh." He cooed, trying not to overstimulate you even more as he cleaned around your pussy, which was drizzling like a fountain. His hands settled you back onto the bed before swaddling you up in his arms, listening to your sweet babbles as you slipped into slumber as he twisted strands of your hair between his fingers. "Good night, кохана. Sleep well."

коля = kolya моя гарна дівчина = my beautiful girl кохана = dearest малятко = baby

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[gregorygerwitz]

Crochet Commissions!

For those who don't know me, I'm Alex (she/they), and I started the year off with Covid. Because I had to take two weeks off work, I'm really hurting for money right now, so I'm opening up a limited number of slots for crochet commissions to try to fill in that financial gap.

ALL of the materials I use are machine washer/dryer safe

Pictures of my recent work and prices are below. Including: stuffed animals, dice bags, holiday stockings, blankets. As well as: shipping info, custom request info.

For further questions or to request a commission: message me here or email me at crochetbyalex@outlook.com

When I did my poll, most people voted for stuffed animals, and I recently finished a few that I can show my skills with. The blue penguin is my latest finished piece, with the purple penguin the first thing I ever crocheted side-by-side for comparison of how much I've learned in the last ~7 months. The mouse is technically unfinished because the eyes aren't embroidered yet, but I made it in about a day and a half, for timeline purposes.

I also just finished the above dice bag octopus about an hour ago for my roommate, which took about three hours of non-stop work (I turned on a movie and got through the stitches pretty quick). I can make them in any color you want, with either the plastic safety eyes or embroidered eyes. Most of these can be entirely customizable, just let me know what you're thinking and I'll see what I can do!

Dice bags: $10 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Stuffed animals: $15 + $5 domestic (US) shipping optional crinkle filling (washer/dryer safe): + $2 (stuffed animals only)

10 slots total (4 REMAINING)

I don't have any pictures of any of the hats or scarves I've made because it's been a few years, but I made some stockings for the apartment for Christmas last month, and that's one of my most recent projects. The green one was the last one I made, and probably the most accurate to what my capabilities are now.

If you'd like a stocking for Christmas 2024, let me know! I have an unlimited number of slots for them as the holiday is far enough away that the time crunch isn't so rough.

Hats: $20 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Scarves: $30 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Holiday stocking: $24 + $5 domestic (US) shipping

5 total wearable (hats/scarves) slots

The least popular item in my poll was the blankets, which I understand. And I'm only going to open one slot for them at a time because they take so long and so much yarn to make. The wave pattern (both blankets pictured above) is my favorite to do, but I have patterns for most simple designs, or I can likely easily google it and put it together for you. Prices are based on the time and materials these take to make, but because they're so much more expensive than the smaller items above, domestic (US) shipping is free.

Baby blanket (top left): $50 Throw blanket/afghan: $100 Full size (length shown in bottom picture): $200

1 blanket slot (0 REMAINING)

Custom requests:

If there's a pattern you've found on Etsy/Pinterest/etc that you want made, contact me by using the contact information above. We can discuss prices or my ability to accomplish that for you. ***patterns must be CROCHET patterns as I do not knit (yet)*** 5 custom slots total

International shipping:

Let me know when you request a commission where you are located, as shipping prices vary wildly from country to country. I'll go over the actual cost with you before you commit to the commission and make sure the price works for both of us.

Current open slots:

Stuffed animals and dice bags: 1. [FILLED] 2. [FILLED] 3. [FILLED] 4. [FILLED] 5. [FILLED] 6. [FILLED] 7. [OPEN] 8. [OPEN] 9. [OPEN] 10. [OPEN]

Wearables: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

Stockings: [NO LIMIT]

Blankets: 1. [FILLED]

Custom requests: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 28

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 28: Shellfie.

Moving to the South Downs wasn't a permanent change—for beings as old as they were, nothing like this could be—but it went along with the real permanent change: that Aziraphale and Crowley could be together publicly, loudly, and nobody in Heaven or Hell could take it away from them or stop them. Aziraphale wouldn't Fall, neither of them would be tortured or punished or killed. They didn't have to duck around anymore, meeting in plausibly deniable ways. Crowley didn't have to leave the bookshop through the back in the dead of night so he could be seen emerging from his flat in the morning. Aziraphale didn't have to meticulously track every miracle he performed in the hopes of not exceeding his budget. They could hold hands.

Being allowed to touch, in public, was utterly intoxicating to them both.

And touch they did. Not just holding hands: Aziraphale was allowing his hair to grow, no longer required to keep it regulation-short, and Crowley fussed over it constantly, tying and untying and brushing and straightening and brushing flyaways into place; Aziraphale fixed Crowley's collar and cuffs, straightened his ties and scarves and pins. They walked arm-in-arm, like was once fashionable, or with arms around shoulders and waists, or hands resting on lower backs. When they talked they leaned in, hands on forearms, cheeks brushing.

They both smiled more, and more genuinely, truly and perfectly happy like neither of them had been since their creations; even more so, really, for all the years of experience behind them and for the pleasure of each other's love and company.

On a bright sunny spring day, Crowley suggested they go to down to the coast, and Aziraphale smiled and packed a picnic, and off they went.

The Bentley blasting You're My Best Friend on a loop the whole way (which irritated Aziraphale much more than Crowley, who was used to it), they headed straight down to Selsey to look out over the channel and get their toes wet. Aziraphale had changed into an old swimming costume, cream and powder blue alternating stripes ending at the elbows and knees, which he'd probably had since old Bertie had crowned at least; Crowley remained in his regular miracled suit, and intended to simply snap into a speedo if they went swimming.

Aziraphale's hand rested just above Crowley's knee the entire way, except when Crowley took sharp turns at a hundred miles per hour, when it did not rest so much as desperately cling for dear life.

The beach was deserted despite the sunshine, still too chilly to draw in human crowds. Aziraphale and Crowley walked along the coast hand-in-hand, looking out over the sea toward the Isle of Wight, the conversation meandering from the mechanics of plate tectonics (which neither of them understood) to a dinner party they once attended with Plato, from a confused discussion of Wales and whales to the plot of a Doctor Who episode Aziraphale had watched in 2007. This led Crowley to recount a blessing he'd done while stateside with the Dowlings, which reminded Aziraphale of a temptation he'd done in Czechoslovakia in 1983, which reminded Crowley of selfies. Crowley'd had a hand in selfies, tempting a young photographers to a bit of vanity, and it had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

His phone was in his hands before he could finish his thought. He interrupted Aziraphale recounting the svíčková he'd had at a bistro in Prague with a command to "Smile, angel!" This earned him a confused look, Aziraphale turning to ask him why, blurrily captured with the tap of a button and a recorded sound effect of a shutter click.

"Whatever are you doing, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked crossly, irritated at the interruption, and Crowley showed him the screen.

The blurry photograph was a nightmare of composition, but Aziraphale immediately loved it more than any in the world, save one. Crowley was smiling, his eyes crinkled at the edge of his sunglasses, one arm visibly extended to hold the phone and the other intertwined with Aziraphale's, Aziraphale clearly beginning to face him. The first photograph of them had been taken at a moment of temporary relief, taken by an enemy and intended to be used against them. The second was pure freedom, pure happiness, taken by Crowley himself, simply because he'd wanted to.

"Oh," Aziraphale said, voice shaky.

"Yeah," was Crowley's equally shaky reply.

"My dear Crowley, you must print this out when we return to the cottage."

"I—Angel, this isn't the only one this phone can take, we can have a better—"

"I certainly hope we will, my dear Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "And I want to print this one."

They looked at the phone, and then at each other, and smiled.

"Yeah. We'll print it."

Aziraphale had it framed. It hung as a set with an old photograph from the Second World War in their library, above a yellow Georgian chaise that held a mismatched throw blanket and cushion, one in red-and-black tartan and the other patterned with cream and blue snakes.

--

Author's note: This is what came up when I googled "czech food" and HOLY MACARONI IT SOUNDS DELICIOUS. I will be looking for a Czech restaurant that serves svíčková in my area stat.

[just--vi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FIRST (and favorite) FIC

This fic was my first dip back into the fandom after a long long break, and I'm 100% convinced it led me to some of my loveliest friends (and turned into several more fics in the meantime).

Lil snippet under the cut if you'd like a preview.

As luck would have it the beach this time of year is frigidly cold. Tourists line the boardwalks in puffers and trench coats with scarves wrapped around their necks and beanies on their heads – if you squint toward the shops it’s a sea of multi-colored bobbles and the occasional ugly beret.

Remus’ spot isn’t far off from the thick of it. An old folding table with uneven legs that is covered in chipping paint, both old and new. He has wedged half a newspaper under the back right foot of it and is using a collection of heavy rocks to keep the painted postcards from whipping off toward the water. Just the other week he’d lost an entire stack of them because some kid had shouldered by a bit too quickly and knocked the make-shift paperweights to the ground, letting the wind catch the postcards and sending Remus scrambling desperately after them.

By the time he’d trudged back up the hill to the boardwalk the kid and his parents were gone.

As foot traffic begins to thin, Remus drops the paintbrush and stretches out the fingers of his right hand. They crack audibly, and the dull ache begins to seep its way toward his forearm. He offers one long, tired sigh before shoving gloves onto his hands and packing his things away into the rolling crate wedged underneath the low barrier between walkway and beach. Old paintings first, wrapped sensibly in plastic now that they’ve dried, newer ones gingerly on top. Paints go into the worn out bookbag that he slings over his shoulder and he waffles for a moment on the decision to try to take everything in one go, or hope his table doesn’t end up stolen or vandalized (again).

Eventually, because his fingers are beginning to go numb and snot is starting to drip out of his nose, he folds the table and hoists it up against his hip with one arm. It’s not terribly big, a handful of feet long and not quite as wide, but the worse his joints get the harder it is to lug around. He wraps his other hand around the handle of his crate and drags it awkwardly behind him, dodging evening stragglers and one dog wearing a sweater, whose owner offers up a sweet smile and gives him a rather wide berth.

His car is parked a little farther than he’d really like to walk, but he couldn’t justify the paid spots and when he’d come out this morning he’d really been feeling quite good… Now the short hill leaves him a little breathless and wheezy, and by the time he’s popping his trunk (the seats already laid down flat) his skin is prickling under his sweater, suddenly too hot.

It’s not a pretty sight, Remus wrestling the table up toward the trunk, only the snaps on the legs have long since rusted out and they keep popping open, knocking him painfully in the knee and drawing a stream of quiet curses out of his mouth, the trunk claims his elbow next and he is moments away from giving up entirely when the weight of the table shifts just enough to send him a little off balance, before sliding seamlessly into the boot.

Twisting around to offer a (faintly irritated) thanks to his helper, Remus stops dead. Suddenly the heat in his cheeks is less for the short jaunt up the hill or the bite of the wind, all flushing blood that reaches all the way into his ears.

“Err – thanks, bit of a pain to do on your own,” he mumbles, ignoring the fact that the other man seemed to have had no such problem. At the very least the comment earns him a barking laugh, head thrown backward and eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes him blush harder because it really hadn’t been that funny.

“No worries, I couldn’t watch you struggle anymore without feeling like an absolute jackass – hand alright?”

[zombiestarter]

too good to be true — steven grant

୨୧ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ whilst moving in to your newly shared apartment, a box full of figurines shatter and leave you saddened. reminiscing on your first date, steven is determined to cheer you up.

୨୧ ꒰ genre ꒱ fluff

୨୧ ꒰ warnings ꒱ n/a

୨୧ ꒰ word count ꒱ 1k

a/n: first post! ahh, i’m so excited to see what this account has in store for me.

“careful, careful,” steven’s voice trails off, making sure not to trip with every step he takes. “we’re almost there. need a break?”

you shake your head, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead before quickly holding onto your side of the couch. “no, i’ve got it. it’s just… why did we choose one of the hottest days of the year to move our stuff?”

the brunette couldn’t help but laugh, taking the first step into their newly shared apartment. a sigh of relief escapes both of your lips once you both let go of the couch.

“alright, time for a well-deserving break.“ he says, mostly to himself as he dusts off the dirt from his jeans. absentmindedly, steven extends an arm to grab you and pull you into a hug. noticing that you were not at his side, he furrows his brows to find you rummaging through a set of boxes that were placed at the counter.

“something the matter?” he muses, wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. 

you furrow your brows, opening the last of the boxes and gasping. “no!” you exclaimed softly, a frown settling on your features as you gently pick up the broken pieces of a glass figurine. “our figurines. they’re all broken.”

steven watches as you pull up a stool, sitting on the newly polished wood, and try to put all the pieces back together. to your dismay, the figurine was unfixable. “all of our stuff…”

steven’s gaze softens, placing a hand over your shoulder as he looks into the box. Looking into the broken shards of what used to be memorabilia of their time together. It’s bittersweet, really, trinkets and figurines from years back are nothing more than disposable now. steven has hope, rummaging through the pieces of ceramic in the box before pulling out a glass penguin, “well, look at this dapper little fella.” he muses, gently tapping the black bowtie it wore. a tap too many led to the figurine’s head falling right off. “oh, bollocks.”

an airy laugh escapes your lips, and with a sad smile you pick up the pieces of the glass penguin. “this was on our first date.” you teased, elbowing his side. “you took me to the zoo in the middle of december.”

steven’s eyes brighten at the memory. warm scarves, knitted gloves, tight hugs, and uncoordinated dances to old pop rock, and jazz. a day he could never forget. “yes! we almost got soaked at the penguin exhibit.” he says, the corners of her eyes crinkling as he smiles. “i bought you this little guy to remember our first date.”

both of you reminisce in comforting silence. you sigh, pressing your cheek against your palm as you pick up another broken figurine. “so much for the memory box.” you mutter, placing the broken fragments back into the cardboard box.

“memory box?” steven says, amused.

“title is a work in progress.” you say matter of factly. “or at least it was.”

steven takes your hands in his, “i’ll make it up to you, darling.” he says. “promise. always.”

giving his hands a small but reassuring squeeze, you smile fondly before shaking your head. “no, no, it’s alright.” you say, a small peck on his lips. “we still have a lot of stuff to unpack.”

steven returns your kiss just as softly, hand lingers on her before reluctantly pulling away. loving gaze follows your figure as you walk to another room. 

the rest of the day went by with you and steven putting things and organizing rooms. once night had fallen, you were the first to race to the shower after such a long and hot day. steven was quick to work. skimming through an array of vinyl before pulling out a record and placing it over the player. glasses of wine sitting on each side of the decorated table as the food cooks on a low fire from the kitchen. both of you had made the decision to order takeout after finishing up with the apartment. however, as you showered steven had made the decision to get started with an actual dinner, not just some gyros you spotted on the drive home. 

home. 

to many, a home would be their house or even a town they used to live in. but to steven grant home is where he can find comfort and safety. where he is truly welcomed. home is…

you open the door and step out of your shared bedroom, hair still wet from your shower. steven has his back turned against you. “steven?” you muse, eyebrows furrowed together at the home-cooked food on the table. “you made dinner?”

his fingers go right to the record player, he knows exactly the right one to play. only when frankie vallie’s voice fills the living room does he turn towards you. 

you're just too good to be true

can't take my eyes off of you

walking towards him, your smile never fades. a smile that incarnated his tender adoration for you. arms wrap around your waist before you instinctively lay yours on his shoulders. 

you’d be like heaven to touch

“is this what you were hiding?” you ask, looking into his eyes with a smile. 

“a little,” he revealed, the corners of his eyes creased with amusement. “i don't need a trinket or a glass figurine to show how much i adore you, dear.” his eyes scan your features, hand brushing against your cheek. “i only need you.” 

you let the music guide you, with the help of steven’s soft swaying to the music as he held you close. you’d break a thousand more figurines if it meant you could stay in this moment for as long as you wanted. 

“pretty impressive that you managed to do this in such a short time.” you tease, laying your head against his chest as you both sway to the music. 

“shh,” he says, pressing a finger to your lips. “no words. just us, dear.” 

with that, he ends the night with a needed kiss.

main masterlist / moon knight masterlist

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[bomberqueen17]

acid dyes in squirt bottles

I didn't take great pictures. I thought I had but I'm going back through and I just didn't take the ones I thought I had.

So, to start, I used the bottles you can buy from dharma, because I was ordering stuff from them anyway. I'd also gotten one of their kits on a clearance thing so I had gloves and rubber bands and such to hand.

what photos I have are behind the cut.

[image description: A silk/wool blend scarf, folded in half and also slightly scrunched along its length, lying on top of a slightly crinkled length of aluminum foil, on top of a plastic bag, with the bottoms of a few bottles visible at the top of the frame, and a plastic container with some dye in it and a plastic spoon.]

So here's the only one I photographed in-progress. It's a scarf, about eight by 32 inches or so? To the left it's pale yellow, then it's orange, then red, then fuschia, and then black at the far left end.

I had four bottles, so I had yellow, red, fuschia, and black in the bottles by this point. But I had two different colors of yellow dye, and I wanted a very pale color on the extreme end of this one. So I mixed up some of the pale-pale yellow in a plastic takeout soup container and dabbed it on with a spoon. I kept the right end of the scarf slightly elevated, so none of the darker dyes would run along under the underside of the scarf into that yellow section.

I've found that squirting two colors next to each other doesn't blend them very smoothly-- which is an effect to play with, but. I wanted a gradation, so I experimented, and smooshing the scarf around with a spoon carefully can do it, but the thing i settled on for this one was putting a lot of yellow and a tiny bit of red from the squirt bottles into another plastic soup container and then applying drops of that mixture with a spoon in the middle where I wanted them to meet, to get a better orange. (My motivation was partly that the intended recipient of this scarf loves orange, so ymmv with this technique.)

I did do one scarf where I did not attempt to blend colors but squirted them as standalones. I'd done a tub-dye in a pot on the stove of a brilliant blue, and I'd done some shibori-tyeing of scarves in that bath earlier, and they were out and drying while I did this. one of them, i'd tied far too well, and it had large expanses of white and then some very dark blue banding, and I decided that was too much white left for me. So I took that one and overdyed it with the squirt bottles, in all the white areas, in random splotches. To get green for this I did just get the tiniest amount of green dye powder and mix it up in a soup container and apply it with a spoon, because I did not have another squirt bottle.

[image description: here's that scarf, after steaming and drying but before ironing. An expanse of wrinkled silk fabric lying atop a metal drying rack is mottled with dark blue, and then is softly colored in splotches of pink, yellowish-green, green, and purple.]

A bit gaudy but kind of cool, I'm giving it as a gift to a preteen girl whose wardrobe I think it will compliment, but would have worn it myself. Couldn't get a pure yellow because the white areas had backstained pale blue in the rinsing, but the sort of violent chartreuse here is fun.

The black dried to a purplish-gray color, so next time I should do actual math on the dye amounts. I do own a kitchen scale and had intended to use it to weigh the fiber and the powder, like the tutorials say to do, but *jazz hands* my kitchen is tore upppp and everything I own is in boxes, so where that scale ended up the sweet lord only knows and I will find out before I do my next batch of this.

(the reader can swap in whatever entity they prefer for "the sweet lord" because i am actually not specifying, I don't want to know what kind of entity is tracking the belongings nominally in my possession because obviously they are not on speaking terms with me and won't tell me where any of that stuff is no matter how nicely and desperately I've implored, over the years, so I just assume we're not friends. I will reciprocate the disinterest, politely, as that seems wisest.)

And finally, for a bonus shot, here's a shibori-dyed silk/wook scarf I'm *very* pleased with, which I achieved using the blocks of wood the kit came with, accordion-folded it between and rubber-banded around it, simmered it in the acid dye according to directions, and then rinsed it. It was originally a really striking white in the excluded patches, but one of the other scarves it was rinsed with had a lot of excess dye still in it, so it backstained the white of this scarf, which I actually prefer somewhat.

[image description: a length of fabric, translucent, stretched over a drying rack. It is a dark navy blue with big splotchy white shapes connected by wiggly strings of white.]

The blue dyebath, I hadn't measured the pigment into and it had way too much. So I came back the next day and threw in some habotai yardage, loosely gathered and folded and then rubberbanded along its length, and then I had a wool/nylon dress that had become stained so I threw it in too, scrunching and rubberbanding it because I knew it wouldn't dye evenly. (There was already some acid in the dyebath from the previous use, which I think encourages it to strike fast, that's why they have you put the item in and simmer it a little before adding the acid? this is something I've surmised, so I might be wrong, but I just felt like I wasn't going to get a good solid color from this bath so I'd better tie-dye on purpose and hope for a cool accidental result.)

I was busy, so I turned the heat off after half an hour and let the goods sit in the bath until it went cold, and when I went to pour it out, the dyebath was completely, entirely, one hundred percent clear, clearer than the previous day's rinse water.

The yardage came out glorious:

[image description: my mother-out-law's immaculate basement (trust me, it really is) bisected by a slightly translucent length of silk habotai, gently mottled in deep blue and white, hanging from the laundry line in gentle folds.]

I might buy another batch of scarves, I have a ton of stuff I need to do fiber-reactive dyes on but I have the fever and want to get better at silk scarves.

But I have. So many muslins I have made out of real cotton muslin, and I can't really wear them until I've made them be some other color. So.

[womenfashionandstyle]

Best Crinkle Scarves in the UK

Introduction

When it comes to stylish and versatile accessories, a crinkle scarf undoubtedly tops the list. The UK market offers an array of options to suit every taste and occasion. In this article, we will explore some of the best crinkle scarves available in the UK, perfect for adding a touch of elegance to any outfit.

The Versatility of Crinkle Scarves

Crinkle scarves are not only fashion-forward but also incredibly versatile. Their unique texture and design make them a popular choice for both casual and formal occasions. Whether you're dressing up for a night out or looking for an everyday accessory, a crinkle scarf can elevate your entire look.

Embracing Fashion Trends with Crinkle Scarves

Fashion trends come and go, but crinkle scarves have remained a timeless accessory. With various colors, patterns, and fabrics available, these scarves allow you to stay on-trend while expressing your personal style.

Top Picks for Ladies Scarves in the UK

Elegant Silk Crinkle Scarf

Crafted from luxurious silk, this crinkle scarf exudes sophistication and grace. The lightweight and airy texture make it perfect for any season, adding a touch of luxury to your outfit.These lightweight ladies scarves in the UK are available with different varietes.You can explore them from Modora UK

Cozy Cashmere Crinkle Scarf

For those chilly winter days, a cashmere crinkle scarf is a must-have. Its softness and warmth will keep you cozy while still looking fashionable.

Vibrant Patterned Crinkle Scarf

If you want to make a bold statement, a vibrant patterned crinkle scarf is the way to go. Whether it's floral, geometric, or abstract, these scarves can brighten up any ensemble.

Classic Monochrome Crinkle Scarf

A classic monochrome crinkle scarf is a versatile piece that complements any outfit effortlessly. Its timeless appeal ensures you'll never go wrong with this choice.

Where to Buy the Best Crinkle Scarves

To ensure you get the highest quality crinkle scarves, it's essential to purchase from reputable retailers. Many UK-based fashion stores offer a wide selection of crinkle scarves, allowing you to choose the one that matches your style perfectly.You can buy cheap crinkle scarves online from Modora UK.

Styling Tips with Crinkle Scarves

Effortless Necktie

For a chic and casual look, simply tie the crinkle scarf around your neck in a loose knot. This style works exceptionally well with solid-colored scarves.

Elegant Shawl

Drape the crinkle scarf over your shoulders for an elegant shawl-like appearance. This style is ideal for evening events or when you need extra warmth.

Belted Waist Accessory

Transform your outfit by using a crinkle scarf as a belt around your waist. This style adds a unique touch to dresses and long tops.

Head Wrap Wonder

Make a fashion-forward statement by using the crinkle scarf as a stylish head wrap. Perfect for bad hair days or adding flair to your summer look.

Caring for Your Crinkle Scarf

Proper care will ensure your crinkle scarf remains in pristine condition. Always check the care instructions, but in general, hand washing or dry cleaning is recommended for most crinkle scarves.

Conclusion

In conclusion, a crinkle scarf is a must-have accessory for every fashion-forward woman in the UK. With its versatility, elegance, and range of styles available, it's no wonder these scarves have become a timeless fashion staple. Whether you opt for silk, cashmere, or a vibrant pattern, you can't go wrong with a crinkle scarf to elevate your style.

[silkfab1]

Buy The Best Chiffon Silk Hijabs | Silk Fab

Silk Fab offers the best chiffon silk hijabs and the most attractive  Silk Fab's exclusive line of beautiful silk hijabs combines design and elegance to elevate your look. Our gorgeous silk hijabs are designed for women who respect high-quality fabrics and elegant designs. Shop our inventory today and see why Silk Fab is the best place to buy beautiful, luxurious hijabs online!

[junosmindpalace]

students returning home from school filed into the neighbourhood, animated conversation vibrating through the air. the sun shone down brightly, yet the breeze coaxed out a few shudders, provoking kids to huddle into themselves, students who anticipated the cold snuggling into their scarves and jackets.

it was a chilly afternoon, the remnants of summer slowly fading with the green of the leaves and the first indicator of autumn weaving through the group of kids. you hadn’t anticipated the chill like some of your classmates, which is why you clinged to tooru more so than usual. not that he was complaining in the slightest.

your arms and fingers were intertwined, and you leaned against each other lovingly. it was truly a romantic sight; such a cliché display of young love, yet it never got stale in the eyes of passersbys, gushing in their minds over the sweet show of affection. tooru leaned down as his eyes crinkled, laughing with you about something you had said. he always loved being so close to your face, admiring the light in your eyes, taking in the sight of your smile. 

there wasn’t anything more heartwarming, both to you and your boyfriend and the pedestrians who passed by, small smiles playing on their own lips as you walked practically joined at the hip. 

you shuddered against him when the breeze reached you, leaning your head against his arm as you continued your conversation while walking. “-oh! and i was confused when i saw her jacket, ‘cause apparently it was supposed to be warm today, but i think i’ll pick up mine from home on our way to lunch.” 

a branch snapped off its tree. the two of you paused in your tracks. you realized the error of what you had done as soon as the words came out of your mouth. wide, blank eyes blinked up at one another in a comedic fashion. and then everything happened at once.

tooru immediately went to rip off his jacket, but you reacted a slight bit faster, reaching over to grab his wrists. you struggled against one another, teeth gritting as you attempted to resist each others actions. 

“oikawa tooru, keep your damn jacket on.” you gritted out, mustering up all the strength you could against your athlete boyfriend. he bared his teeth at you.

“you’re cold. i’m giving you my jacket.” your boyfriend seethed just as menacingly.

tooru was a romantic. so romantic and gentlemanly he was that it made your heart race at how deeply he cared for you. the way he wasn’t even the least bit shameful (much to the dismay of his teammates) just made all the kind things he did count all the more. 

but you knew he tended to prioritize you over himself. tooru oikawa always loved a little extra, always had a habit of putting the things he cared about before his own well-being. you worried for him on these instances, but tooru’d only ruffle your hair and reassure you that he’d be, or he was, alright, even if it was obvious he wasn’t. most times, you were able to take care of yourself and only felt bad for making him worry. 

you had slipped up this time, knowing before the last of the words came out what would happen. you only wanted to look out for him the same way he looks out for you. especially with the cold weather and tooru’s rigorous training did he need to stay warm. but the two of you were equally stubborn, and neither would back down so easily.

the loving sight had dissolved almost instantly. passerby’s didn’t know what to make of this new progression besides the fact that the two must’ve resented each other. 

you managed to keep him in place for a while, but you were only delaying the inevitable. eventually, tooru was able to free himself from your hold and in a swift instant yank off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders, keeping his hands in place so you wouldn’t shrug it off.

“tooru!”

but he only gave you a cat-like grin, rubbing his hands up and down your arms before wrapping his arm around you again and kissing the crown of your head, humming contentedly. 

you sighed, knowing that all the berating in the world wouldn’t stop oikawa tooru from putting your needs above his. it was how he was- with volleyball, with school, and of course, with you. he never meant to be smothering with his affection, it was just the way he was.

and so you gave into the comforting scent of his body wash and cologne that lingered on the fabric and leaned against him yet again, the heartwarming display of young love restored.

[caswensworld]

Beauty and the Beast are not the best in Descendants, but their sons are golden! This is Barry, Ben’s baby brother

Barry, the kind-hearted and brave 15-year-old son of Beauty and the Beast and Ben's brother. Barry believes everyone has goodness in their heart, good or evil.

Barry is a handsome young man with a kind face. He has inherited his father's strong build and features, but softens them with his mother's gentle eyes and warm smile. His curly brown hair, streaked with golden highlights, falls just past his ears, giving him a slightly mischievous air. His dark brown eyes, full of curiosity and warmth, are often crinkled at the corners from his frequent smile. He usually wears the traditional attire of Auradon's royalty, but prefers to add his own flair with vibrant scarves and colorful brooches.

Barry believes in the inherent goodness of everyone, even those considered 'evil'. He sees potential in every person and is always willing to give them a chance. He is deeply empathetic and always puts others before himself. He is quick to offer help and comfort to those in need. Though he is gentle, Barry is not afraid to stand up for what he believes in, even if it means confronting those who seem intimidating. He has a natural talent for painting and drawing, finding solace and expression in art. As the son of the Beast and Beauty, Barry carries himself with a natural sense of grace and dignity.

**Background**

Barry is the youngest son of the Beast and Beauty, and the younger brother of King Ben of Auradon. He grew up in the royal palace, surrounded by love and kindness. As a child, he was fascinated by his father's stories of the Isle of the Lost and the villains who resided there. He always believed that even the most hardened hearts could find redemption.

Barry has a close relationship with his brother, Ben, whom he idolizes. He admires Ben's courage and his willingness to give even the most unlikely individuals a chance, like the VKs. This has only fueled Barry's own desire to see the best in everyone, especially Cerin, the son of the formidable Charnabog, who is known for his rebellious and wicked nature.

**Crush and Fascination with Cerin**

Barry is drawn to Cerin's rebellious spirit and his undeniable charisma. He sees past Cerin's rough exterior and believes that there is a good heart hidden beneath. He is fascinated by Cerin's dark side, but also hopes to help him find a path towards redemption.

Yes, Barry and Cerin are lovers. Disney is slowly inching towards the non-straight relationships, we saw it will Willa and A-Spen! We’re almost there!

Also…where my Chucky fans at!

**Other Relevant Information**

* Barry loves to read and spends hours in the royal library, immersing himself in tales of adventure and heroism.

* He has a passion for history and is always eager to learn about the past, especially the stories of brave heroes who fought for justice and equality.

Overall: Barry is a complex and endearing character. He is a beacon of hope and kindness in a world of darkness and despair. He is a reminder that even in the face of adversity, there is always room for love, compassion, and the possibility of redemption.

My boys! 🖤💛

[sculptorofcrimson]

Pavilion of Golden Flowers

A Warhammer retelling of the Drunken Concubine.

Synopsis: Valdor waits for his master

“Love and hate breeds a trice

Couple like the moon with sun

Love and hate are vast

Ask, do kings love?” - Drunken Concubine

~~~

Terra no longer snowed. The white flakes that once cascaded and tumbled before Terra’s slow ruin, the pale frost that had blanketed the Himalayas and chilled golden armor to divine bone, had departed for scorching spring, never to arise once more. There was no more water to freeze, not a single drop of natural moisture upon Terra to fall from its plump heavy clouds. No more bitter frost to wrap the world underneath its wintery embrace. Even the Imperial Palace’s pools and lascivious decor held no natural born water of Terra’s oceans, not eden wealth could restore the lost, for Poseidon had long since abandoned humanity to its fate. 

The skies no longer wept in sorrow. They had no more tears to shed. It would be winter, if not for the fact Terra’s climate was nearly as dead as its oceans, and the Imperial Palace was insulated against such natural wonders. There would be no natural ice upon Terra’s surface, for now and forevermore. The only weak flicker of nature’s dying grasp was the slowly spreading moonlight, hovering with marked fickleness as an icy moon rose above the palace. Before it’s single-eyed gaze, the world sharpened and illuminated itself, the ghostly light painting it silver in all its ancient splendor.

It was through this nostalgic haze did the concubine toss back another cup, wineglass crinkling underneath gene-enhanced fingers that could have crushed a man’s throat. The hulking behemoth of a man would have looked intimidating under any other circumstance, even when draped in nothing but silken regalia and stripped of his weapons and armor. Not so long ago, his stern features had been set in an unsmiling glower as the serfs had massaged and groomed and dressed him for his lord, the Emperor's favorite concubine barely resisting as they draped him in silk and threaded scarves around his muscled frame. He hadn’t struggled when they had pulled on jewelry pretentious enough to bankrupt an entire star sector and veiled him in such golden extravagance it was nearly ostentatious. He would have protested against such attire(it was not practical, it was not even easy to move around in, how was he supposed to defend his lord in such ridiculousness?), but the serfs were already tugging the much larger Custodian towards his appointment. Their movements had been harried in their scampering as they had ushered him before a feast fit for an emperor, the Custodian now perfectly prepared to magnificence as if he had been any other item now artfully arranged for their Emperor’s amusement.

Yet still as majestic as ever even when draped in silks instead of auramite, Constantin Valdor was as resplendent as ever as he helped himself to another drink, the liquid searing his throat as his Custodian biology attempted to make sense of what he was drinking. His gene-enhanced form shuddered slightly as the liquid seared his insides, flesh and cells unable to comprehend what foreign substance could be strong enough to bypass his innate resilience.  

Such indulgence would out of character for the Captain-General, but the hour of restraint had long since passed, such reservations simply ceased to matter when the clock ticked on and on and on yet, whereas the hands turned and the sand slipped through the hourglass, his lord and master had never even appeared. It was possible that such a thing had simply slipped His mind, however impervious as it was, and left Valdor sitting there, alone, half-slumped over his...seventeenth? Eighteenth? bottle of the finest wine within the Imperium. 

At this point, they might as well give him the entire Imperial Palace's cellar. 

The serfs and servants and servitors still scurried for the aborted appointment, and the Captain-General watched them with the dull impartiality of cold detachment, the alcohol wrought haze having thankfully having numbed the cold humiliation of the Emperor’s abandonment to muteness. 

Still holding the wineglass in a crushing grip, Valdor idly wondered who could sharing the Emperor’s bed as of this moment. Who had been the lucky concubine chosen instead of him? Ra, for his humanity? Kadai? Saturnalia? Perhaps even Diocletian, as feisty as he was? Perhaps tonight the Emperor wanted a challenge instead of Valdor’s mute obedience. 

The Captain-General let his gaze linger upon the wineglass, now slowly being refilled by the hand of a Lucifer Black. Briefly, their eyes met, and the guardsman flinched when he noted Valdor’s piercing glare upon his, however dulled by wine that gaze was. The Lucifer Black dropped his eyes, and his hands shook, spilling a neat drop of red liquid along the side of the glass. Neither of them comments. Valdor only made a noncommittal noise as he dismissed the guardsman, gaze travelling onto the serfs still hurriedly running through their preparations as if they truly expected the Emperor to ever arrive. Valdor took a sip of the wine. And then another. Because why not? He long since knew the bitter truth the servants didn’t. 

The Emperor would not arrive today. Valdor knew that even as he accompanied them and waited for a master that would never return. The Emperor would never be here now, not in one hour, not in two, not when He had already chosen another concubine over him. 

Such indulgence would be impossible to fathom under other circumstances. Yet Valdor found no reason to refuse as he beckoned for the guardsman to approach again, waiting for a refill with endless patience and a serenity that tasted bitter.

The Emperor had taken the emotions of jealousy and envy and carved them out of his chest years ago. In fact, He had even taken the memories of desire itself and torn them out of His perfect creation, had drained away as much of his humanity and conscience as He pleased. Even now, lost in drunken reflection, Valdor found it impossible to even feel a twinge of loss or sympathy for his condition, had found it so unspeakably strange and incomprehensible. Such programming was wired into his literal bones, singed into the very fabric of his soul and shackled into the chains of his mind. There was no greater pleasure than serving his master, if only because he could feel nothing else otherwise. Of course, when pain and absence of pain were all you could feel, you too would gravitate against feeling nothing at all. 

The Lucifer Black seemed no longer frightened of Valdor’s presence, although the short glances he gave the Custodian were now full of wariness and guarded observation. Valdor ignored him, more out of the fact he knew the guardsman wanted to talk to him no more than he desired to initiate a conversation. Instead, they both watched the wine refill in a wineglass that would soon crack from Valdor’s grip upon it, and when it was full, the Lucifer Black stepped back without a word. 

The wine was supposed to be the finest in the Imperium, yet acting as a connoisseur of wine was the last thing upon his half-dazed mind as Valdor mused upon the hollow ache upon his chest, the strange withdrawal he felt upon his master’s abandonment. It was the unpleasant sensation of betrayal, a deep-seated ache in the absence of his normally iron-clad duty. The liquid was searing as he downed another cup of the Imperium’s finest spirits. 

His master wasn’t here. And the Emperor most likely would not appear tonight, or even tomorrow. Right as of this moment, He was most likely enjoying His time with another Custodian, perhaps humoring Ra, perhaps listening to Diocletian, perhaps even doing both in their company.

The thought was no consolation. The fact that his brothers were accompanying the Emperor while Valdor tried not to rip the sheer silken attire surrounding his muscled form did nothing to aid the Captain-General. While Valdor was no longer capable of jealousy, he was not yet quite ready to let go of the closest thing he had for pain in the face of this coldly blunt rejection. He was not yet ready to… forgive? Forgive, perhaps? Was that the word? Was he still capable of such an action, stripped of humanity as he was?No, Valdor believed not. To forgive would be to imply the Emperor had done wrong. To forgive would be to imply that there was a sin that needed forgiving. And the Custodian found himself unable to hold the Emperor to His sins, to His great mistakes and misconceptions. It was simply beyond him, quite literally unable to summon the hatred required for even such a small action. 

The Emperor had carved out his ability to feel such poisoned luxuries long ago.

And thus, you cannot forgive someone you could not even blame in the first place. 

There was no scapegoat, no one else to blame as Valdor raised the cup to his lips and drank from the finest wines in the Imperium. The Captain-General hung draped in the finest silks of Terra, and lounging within the finest Palace to have ever been graced by Mankind, and yet nursing the dull pain who refused to drown beneath endless drinks and the finest of liquor the Imperium had to offer. The liquid was searing yet numbing upon his tongue, yet he had accustomed himself to its taste with surprising efficiency.

Such human revelations were not supposed to be part of his duty, and would not be part of his duty. He was to serve in all regards, and so be it. So be it if the Emperor has another concubine in His mind, it was not his duty to intervene after all. This had, of course, happened multiple times in the past, and doubtlessly would continue in the future.

But if that was the case, why was he so rankled over his master’s absence? Why would he desire Him so?

Valdor’s grip tightens once more upon the wineglass at the echoing of his own thoughts, unable to completely drown out sorrows long since assumed lost to him. 

Sorrow. What an ugly word. 

Thanks to the Emperor he no longer held the capacity to feel in any defined form anymore, and if he could, it would be better to leave him to the illusion that he couldn’t. The wineglass cracks underneath his force, finally giving away, shards of glass normally unable to pierce Custodian flesh suddenly driven into skin and muscle by the sheer strength of Valdor’s grip. 

The Lucifer Black that had been preparing to refill the glass utters a sharp cry of surprise at the shattering, flinching at the Custodian’s sudden motion.

“And so be it.” Valdor growled aloud, his words surprisingly clear and sharp despite the inebriation that had overtaken him. The guardsman flinched and looked up in surprise, partially due to the fact Valdor had seemed to speak to him, partially due to the fact the Custodian’s piercing gaze was fixated on…something. Something not quite within the room with them right as of this moment, something he himself possibly could not name. Valdor’s cold gaze settles upon him for a moment and the guardsman’s hand trembles slightly upon his pitcher, but does not falter. He only watches the Custodian with a mixture of caution, surprise, and carefully guarded curiosity at the strange, somehow dark expression which briefly flitted across the much larger Custodian's features, before it was gone once more.

Valdor finally drops his gaze as he turned away, expression listless and unreadable, the shards of glass of what had once been a fine wineglass now piercing through his skin and the silken fabric. With surprising calmness, he sets down the broken glass, silently savoring - or as much as a being like him could savor - in few sensations he was yet capable of feeling: the bitter sting of pain, if only for a few moments before it was gone. Almost intangible once more in an eternity of unending invulnerability. Instead, he only draws back in silent almost-disappointment, watching the guardsman move to sweep up the broken pieces, soft footsteps rustling against lavish carpets as the pale-faced Lucifer Black busied himself with the task. When it came to the ranks of the golden, the still-living immortalized dead, silence was a virtue, and it was one they could easily afford.

He does not acknowledge the Lucifer Black, and offered him not even a single word as he turns and strides out of the room, his gait slightly lacking the usual eerie grace with which the Captain-General usually displaced himself with, an uncharacteristic alcohol-bourne clumsiness gracing his every step. The truth of his destination, he was not yet certain of, even though he knew he must find somewhere else to go. Somewhere further away, somewhere where his master wouldn’t be able to look upon him with disappointment and rebuke.

The Lucifer Black only watches him leave, the closest to vulnerable the Custodian would ever be, titanic form casting shadows against the silverware and the shattered glass. It was only when Valdor’s hulking silhouette was gone did the guardsman release a soft, exhausted sigh of worried relief.

Even alone, Valdor could not find it in himself to regret. His steps beat a hollow rhythm, the sound echoing off the walls, a soft, frozen heartbeat of entombed steel. He should have accepted what he had always known. It would be for the best, yes. He was nothing more than a tool of the Emperor’s, His loyal servant and Captain-General, created to please His every whim. Nothing more. Nothing less. Who was he to disagree?

He had no more tears to shed in the face of this, no more sorrow to feel. Such emotions had been ripped from him long ago. He was Valdor, the Captain-General of the Custodes. He was Valdor, the Emperor’s favorite, or he should have been. He was Valdor, and as he spasmodically leaned against a gaping doorway, trying to rationalize how he wasn’t drunk, how he wasn’t actually drunkenly leaning against a frame never meant to support his weight, he coldly explained away how the Emperor’s absence tonight should have been no surprise. He was busy, of course He was. He had other matters greater than a single Custodian to attend to, it would have been thoughtless of him to assume otherwise. And of course, His eye strayed from him to Ra. Or Diocletian. Or Khorarinn. There were ten thousand of them, it would have been arrogance on his part to assume otherwise. How foolish of him.

Shaking his head, hearing the decorative bangles wound into his neural implants jangle, the Captain-General’s gaze aimlessly wandered to the full moon still shining through the gaps of the Imperial Palace’s view. It was a single, baleful eye glaring down upon him, casting its silver gaze upon the emptied floor, upon the pillars and murals half-shrouded in shadows. Its languid light was almost a mockery to the hollow ache in his bones, an empty cry, an emperor’s fickle favor made grand and hollow in the taunting moonlight.

Slumping against the wall when he heard the door’s hinges begin to creak from his sustained weight, the Custodian’s sharp gaze wanders from the pool of liquid moonlight to the sight of the Palace’s gardens, in full bloom, yet so artificially sickly sweet even the Emperor’s gene-wonders could not have removed their deviance. A stray finger catches onto one of the golden bangles, and Valdor’s cold expression never falters as he grasps onto one of its latches and harshly tugs downwards. His gaze never even flickers in intensity, glaring back at the moon with enough frost to rival even the abyss of space itself as the bangle was forcibly wrenched from delicate neural implants, the sharp sting of pain drowned out without even a flinch. Valdor grasps the removed bangle, the pinpricks of Custodian blood already fading as his regeneration takes hold, the Captain-General quietly glaring back at the soulless moon that would never offer solace. The way it came to him, bubbling out just from under the surface like some entombed corpse from beneath the grave, the revelation itself was almost cruel. And made all the more taunting by the fickle light of a hollow night. Yet, it was not particularly surprising. No, not at all.

What is the meaning of glory, what is the purpose of prosperity? What of pride, what of greatness, what of even loyalty itself, when he could not even fathom betrayal itself? His hand tenses and relaxes as if in sync with his rapid thoughts, crushing the gold of the bangle now and imprinting the soft metal with his clawed grip.

It was hard to imagine a time before then, a time before when he still felt memories of avarice, of greed, of loathing, of joy itself, reduced to half-snuffed candles flickering in a dream.

The bangle snaps under the force of his grip. Uncaringly, he tosses it aside. It clatters as it falls.

Of course, His eye had strayed from him to Ra.

Of course.

Transfixed, utterly inebriated, and watching the stars that were never truly humanity’s birthright, the first Custodian tried to pretend that his Emperor’s cold dismissal wasn’t so terrible, so visceral, that even immortals knew pain.

~~~

"Love and hate are vast

Ask, will king re-love

Chrysanths Terrace reflects moon

Who knows how lonely my heart

Drunken in king's arms

dreaming of love” - Drunken Concubine

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

How about “Hey! I may be a dumbass but I’m your dumbass!” for Alistair/Shaesa?

omg omg omg I was so happy when I got this prompt and I knew IMMEDIATELY what I wanted to do. So this is a lil scene after Alistair finds out that Shaesa had been previously engaged, and he gets a bit insecure about it cause Shaesa was his first love and finding out she had someone before him that she felt THAT SERIOUSLY about (jokes on him, it was arranged, but he didn't know that lol) sorta freaked him out. He started distancing himself from Shae but she noticed and called him out on it and so this is what happens after that :3 hope you enjoy! for @dadrunkwriting Rated G: Fluffy goodness, ~800 words

Try Again | By Exalted_Dawn

Shaesa stifled a snort into her palm, her smile curling against sword-formed calluses in a cheeky sort of way. Even so, the feeble attempt did little to hide the blossoming up-turn to her lips, or the way her eyes crinkled with joy, so the elf didn’t bother to pretend that she didn’t find this whole situation funny. “Maker, you’re such an idiot,” she chuckled, the words almost breathy as she spoke them, clouding on the brisk morning wind.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Alistair’s face turned an even deeper shade of red (something she hadnt previously thought possible), scrunching in an adorably flustered scowl. “What? And you’ve never made a wrong assumption, hm?” he muttered, scrubbing at the back of his head. “It’s not as if you particularly liked to talk about it in the beginning, and when your father brought it up, I thought-”

Shaesa broke off with a laugh, curling in on herself. She rocked back against the Vhenadahl, using its sturdy trunk to balance against as she finally and truly succumbed to her amusement. She shook her head briskly, wiping a stray tear from her eye as she did. “What? That I’d lost the love of my life? That I’d never want to be engaged again?” She peaked up at the man standing beside her, all wrapped up in scarves and a thick-knit traveling cloak from head to toe. He really was too cute for his own good. It was hardly fair. She sighed deeply, sucking down a centering breath in an attempt to reign in at least some of her laughter, and reached over to grab his hand in hers. “Alistair. Just because I was once, doesn’t mean that I’m still spoken for. Sorta hard to be betrothed to a ghost… y’know?” 

He stared idly at their interlocked hands, fingers woven together tight, and Shaesa watched as something in him settled. His gaze grew distant, more contemplative and sullen. His head dipped in a tentative nod. So he wasn’t entirely convinced, then. 

Huffing, she turned and yanked him to face her, picking up his other hand so she held both aloft between them. She squeezed roughly, her conviction demanding. “Marry me.”

Alistair blinked. “I’m sorry- what?”

“Marry me, you dumbass,” she repeated, stern. 

“Uh-”

Shaesa frowned up at him expectantly, glaring down his baffled confusion. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Alistair asked.

“Of course I am.”

“What do you mean ‘of course you are’????” he quacked, balking. “You just ask like that? Out of the blue? With absolutely no warning or preparation?” 

Shaesa’s frown deepened a fraction. “Well I wouldn’t exactly say it was without planning, or entirely out of the blue. We were talking about it, and it’s been on my mind for some time now. I thought, if you really cared about me being engaged, then-”

Alistairs lips closed over hers, pressing and insistent. Warm, against the Denerim chill. Shaesa signed into the kiss, leaning up into him as he stooped to cup her face, drawing her closer. His thumbs brushed across her freckled cheeks in tender refrain, teasing a flush to them to match his own. 

They parted slowly, breath catching in the air between them. Shaesa could not help the silly, lopsided grin on her lips. “So I take it that’s a ‘yes’, then?”

“Absolutely not,” Alistair puffed indignantly, thunking his forehead against her own. “You don’t even have a ring- let alone flowers or proper mood lighting. I’m not some cheap date, you know. If you were going to propose, I would have liked to see some actual effort.”

“But if I did have all that stuff…?” She tried not to sound too hopeful, in case he was simply deflecting through humor. But her worries were swept away as Alistair grinned something goofy and pecked her nose with another kiss. 

“I suppooooose you’ll just have to ask me again and find out, won’t you?” He grabbed her hand again and tugged her along, back towards the direction of Shaesa’s family home. His ears were pink to their very tip, but his grip was firm and sure.

The nerves in her softened, as did her smile. She squeezed his hand back, stumbling to catch up with him. “You really are a dumbass,” she murmured, love swelling in her chest. How could he have doubted her for a second? As if she ever stood a chance against him.

“Yeah, well,” he started, not even bothering to look back at her. “I’m your dumbass now, so I guess you’re stuck with me. Afraid it's a bit too late for regrets.”

Regrets?

Never.

Never.