#double glazed addition

[makeupasmydrug]

Adelaide Contemporary Exterior Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary gray one-story metal exterior home remodel with a shed roof

[kentucky-daisey]

Okay, okay, okay, hear me out. Earl grey shortbread cookies with lemon zest and a thin lemon and powdered sugar glaze, okay? Do you understand? Do you UNDERSTAND!?

[thewritingofspencerrose]

mclaren masterlist : masterlist

New Addition

Lando Norris x OC Inspired by Mclaren surprising Lando with the puppies! I've had this in the drafts for a while, but was lacking a lot of writing drive lately, so we'll see if this gets me back into the groove!

The week began as they always do when we're just beginning the summer break.

Lan and I, lazying about the condo in the morning, simply enjoying each others company, before he is called off to MTC and I hop online for my asynchronis classwork.

It's our routine that I love so much, no matter how chaotic, before we take off on whatever adventures he has planned for us for the next few weeks.

Today was different though.

I spent the morning sick as a sailor, Lan holding my hair back and wiping my forehead with a damp towel. That is, until he had to go in to the MTC for a filming session, one he had convinced the uppers to allow Max to film for a Quadrant day in the life. His hesitance was written all over his face, but with a bit of convincing and the promise that I would invite a friend over, I was able to coax him out the door.

"It sounds like you've had a long morning," Kelly sighs with a frown, sitting across from me. When I had called her up, she and P were more than happy to come keep me company. There may be nearly twelve years between us, but from the moment Max and Lando introduced the two of us, it was easy to bring Kelly into my life as the elder sister I so dearly wished for as a child. And now she's here, her daughter's head fast asleep on my lap as I card my fingers through her hair.

"It's just that I am so rarely sick that to be this sick is more annoying than anything," I try to explain, "We're supposed to leave to travel with Martin in a week and I just can't keep being ill, my least favorite thing in life is feeling like I'm not up to my usual speed."

Kelly's eyes light up a bit, glazing over in a look of recognition. "Have you had any other weird symptoms lately? Anything you should keep in mind if you call the doctor?"

"Just some extra tenderness and I've been exhausted, but it's been a long few weeks with the double header and triple header nearly back to back," Its an explanation, one all of the girlfriends have discussed while sipping drinks over the weekends away.

The older of the two can't help but smile, "Dahlia, how about we run to the corner store and see about a test or two?"

A test? A test!

Oh my God.

"Baby? It's me!" Lan's smooth voice follows click of the door. He's always so loud while out and about, but home, with me, he's so soft.

It's why he's so good with kids at the track.

With Leo and Roscoe and Simba.

With me.

"In the kitchen, love!" In the kitchen with a bag that will change everything.

And there's a yip. A tiny little bark that has my brows furrowing and thoughts leaving my head.

"Lan? What was that noise?" Feet tapping against the ground, I can hear his approach as I step away from the cutting board, the yipping sound continuing. "Okay Lan honestly, what is that-"

It's his rounding the corner that cuts off the all the thoughts that have been spiraling through my head since Kelly, P and I took our little adventure.

He has a dog. In his arms. A little one that is squirming every which way, a collar the color of his race suit around its neck.

Lan has a hesitant smile, the same one he had when he asked me out way back when, and the same one I wasn't expecting to see today. "Surprise?"

My hands find him hips with little thought, staring him down. "Lando Norris, why do you have a dog?"

"I was hoping she could be the newest member of our family?" Oh he's in for something else in a minute or two.

She's is adorable, all happy and squirmy as she rests in whats basically the size of Lan's palm. It's why I move towards him, taking the little thing into my arms and letting her lap at me. "Where did you even find her?"

"Mclaren promo video for a shelter, I spent the morning with dogs and she just really seemed to like me! Stayed in my lap the whole time! So I couldn't just let her be taken back when I knew we could offer her a home!" He's stepping closer, breathe gently fanning over my head as he scratches the pups, his eyes meeting my own with a softness I wasn't expecting. "I know I can't commit to a real kid for a few years, but I was thinking that she could take that place in the mean time."

"About that-" I begin, knowing now is the only right time to mention it. "You know how I was throwing up all morning? And for the last few weeks?"

Theres a spark, the light recognition of an idea in his head, but all he does is nod.

"Well, I had Kelly and P over today while you were out, and we got talking as we do, and she suggested that I take a test."

"A test?" He's piecing this all together.

"A pregnancy test."

"And?" Tears are pooling in his eyes, and while we've discussed kids, we've never discussed the possibility of kids this early, while he's at the peak of his career. "You can't just leave me on a cliff hanger like that, Babe."

"What do you want the answer to be?"

"Babe," This may be the one time in Lando's life that he's stern out of bed.

"It was positive."

There's a pause, the longest of my life, if it wasn't for the fact it was only mere seconds before his arms are wrapped around me, nearly crushing the puppy between us who's only thought is to continue yipping happily. "Lan, baby, I'm going to need something verbal here."

His eyes are meeting mine again, tears trailing down his cheeks as his million dollar smile shines. His hands are still planted on my hips, keeping us close. "You could not have said anything to make me happier than I am right now," and there's so much emotion behind each and every word that I can't help but begin to cry as well. "We're having a baby!"

I can't help but giggle at his joy, "We are! And we have a puppy!"

His lips meet mine, before coming down and meeting the dogs head, nearly bouncing out of his skin. "This is perfect babe, we'll be able to train her and by the time baby Norris is born she'll be ready to be her best friend!"

"Her?"

"I'm calling it now," He states as if it's a matter of fact, curls bopping on his head as he moves. Our lips meet once more, smiles making it awkward like our teenage years, but with so much joy it feels infectious. "Oh my God I need to call Carlos!"

"You what?" There is no way Carlos is the one on his mind right now.

"I have to tell him that Pinon has a new friend! And I'm going to be a dad! He can stop making jokes about me being a child!" He may just be more enthusiastic about this than the baby or the dog. But he's Lando, and I'll give him a time for it later, because seeing him this enthusiastic is a sight too good to miss.

[1-800-local-slut]

Teen Witch

This is just angst; you and Stiles break up lol. Look I know it's kinktober but I needed a break from writing porn, but we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programing tomorrow!

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Your new carpet, ruined. How was it ruined? Your boyfriend's best friend was currently bleeding out on it, and you were very very upset with him. You'd told him so many times if he needed your help, that he needed to call first. Not break into your fucking house and make so much noise that you had to thank your lucky stars that your parents weren't home- yet.

Back to Scott, he was currently seizing on your carpet and that was a problem. In addition to the blood, he was now vomiting. A lot. They owed you two hundred dollars like right now. You grumbled, as you attempted to stabilize the seizing teenager, and Alison was holding Scott's hand while Isaac attempted to hold the new alpha in place.

It was no easy feat, he was foaming at the mouth, eyes crazed and glowing while he swung through the air almost scratching one of your eyes out. You yelped as you got down onto your knees to try and help as much as you could. What was wrong with him in the first place?

You barked out the question as you pulled out a box from under your bed. It was sealed, a sigil you had drawn with your own blood and ashes from your most recent spell after a breach through your bedroom's defenses against Ms. Blake. Opening the box, you pulled out a healing potion that you created just a few days ago when your dearest friend Lydia Martin had jumped out of her sleep muttering about 'wells' and 'ice cubes'. Now, you were no banshee but that couldn't have been a good sign from her.

"Hold his head so I can pour this into his mouth." You ordered Stiles, who was standing there a bit worthlessly at the moment. Dropping to his knees besides you, his hand brushed up against your thighs, which was a startling reminder that this happened in the middle of the night because you liked white men.

You were woken up out of your sleep in the middle of the night by Stiles standing over your bed, with that gorgeous nervous smile. It would be cute if Stiles had a key to your house or your window didn't have a steel bat holding your window open for Isaac to shove the seizing Scott through it while Allison barricaded your bedroom door.

As you poured the clear liquid down Scott's throat, and while Stiles held his snarling face in his hands, Scott really was a bit too strong for his britches. And naturally that was a problem for you. You just repaired your bedroom, which doubled as your sanctuary. Where your spell books, plants, herbs, collections, crystals, ashes, everything, were held. Where a witch rests her head at night is incredibly important.

After you had a rather rough squabble with Jennifer Blake, you had some serious repairs to make and not even a day later, Stiles was pushing someone into your bedroom window.

You couldn't have Scott destroy everything you literally just rebuilt. After all your parents were mad enough when you had to go out and pick out all of the herbs from your mothers garden.

With a small syringe, you gently turned his head over to the side and lined up with his shaking form. He was trembling and eyes were glazing over, blue liquid (?) leaking out of his mouth. You would've left him this way if not for the tremors getting more intense. What looked like rabies was not clearing up with the help of your potion. In fact, it just helped his physical ailments, but did not do much for his mental state. Without throwing up and growling he'd certainly be able to focus enough to take out one of your eyes like he almost did when they got his head down flat on a pillow.

"What is that?" Allison asked as you sunk the needle slowly into his neck and focused.

"Concentrated mountain ash." Like a vaccine almost. It was just enough to slow him down but not kill him. Maybe a little bit more for the brand-new true Alpha. Stiles winced beside you, preparing for the uproar of disapproval from Allison and Isaac. You were a bit new to town, so they weren't really used to you yet.

In the sense of, you and your family were the first witches to come to Beacon Hills in six hundred years. They were all so used to the gentle and kind nature of their emissary the lovely Alan Deaton. You were not gentle. You were a witch, loyal to yourself. And that meant drugging one of your friends to keep him from hurting you and possibly destroying your house.

Nice and gentle druids, healers who would never harm others intentionally. Kind and wise, who dedicated themselves to being helpful and supportive guides to the supernatural community around them.

Not witches. Wicked witches who cursed and hexed. Wicked witches who had the power to heal and destroy. To give and take. Wicked witches who weren't interested in getting clawed apart to save some people who think you're nothing short of evil.

So, when you came to town and were the shining star of Beacon Hills after just a few weeks they knew something was up.

Stiles, ever attracted to women who could kill him with a hard glare, fell for you faster than you could telepathically throw someone across the room.

So now, four months later, Allison was gaping at you in disbelief for poisoning her situ-relation-boyfriend-ex, whatever was going on, you didn't really care to know. Whenever Stiles tried explaining it to you, you just told him you didn't really care and went back to making out with him. And why would Stiles be mad about that?

Scott stopped struggling, the mixture of plants slowed his heart rate enough to fall into a fit full sleep. Now, the issue was your carpet turning a really nasty and wet shade of purple. Literally filled with the mixture from Scott's body. Just disgusting.

"Get this mess off of my floor, and someone is running me two hundred dollars for my carpet."

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"Okay. So, he got super rabies. And you brought him to my house?" Scott was now resting in your tub, wearing only his boxers as you had a big t-shirt he could fit into but nothing else, after you had hosed him down in your shower.

He was sweating profusely, and he muttered something about 'falling down' it was odd. You scratched your head, your bonnet sliding down your forehead. It was 1:52 in the morning.

Literally awful. Your bathroom floors were cold, it was cold in general, and they were just in your house. Allison had a slightly cold look in her eyes. The Argent girl no doubt heard about your kind. Heard about your family. And while you two had communicated before, there was no doubt she was seeing where the rumors came from now.

If Wicked Witch had a defined photo, it would be your ancestors. Your great grandma, your grandma, your aunts and cousins, your mother, and now you. You wouldn't call it wicked. More so, ambition that other creatures think to be a hindrance.

If you were so wicked, you would've tossed them all out of your house the moment you saw Stiles grinning over you. But you loved Stiles, so you could stop being devious for long enough to lend a hand. This was a bit much to ask of you though.

Lately, you and Stiles were going through something of a rough patch. You only saw each other during what seemed like moments of high stress. When you were helping Deaton, creating some sort of spell or object for the pack, or saving a life. Or running for yours.

That obviously didn't help a relationship, which often resulted in you two screaming at each other on the car ride home. And the makeup sex was starting to no longer be worth losing your energy. Was it great? Yes, but you'd like to have sex with your boyfriend without having to scream at him. Like that embarrassing spat last week where you yelled 'I hate you don't talk to me' in front of everyone and then stole his car keys forcing him to walk all the way to your house in order to get home.

The sex that night? Magical. He really gave his all into apologizing to you.

This was another fight. Because when Stiles didn't consider you, it hurt. There were boundaries- you had boundaries- and none of them seemed to understand that. Why would you want to be woken up like this? Perhaps you'd be less cross if he had stuck to his promise of making more time for you and being a bit more considerate of you having to clean up his messes. Considering he made the promise last night, you truly hoped this time it would last longer. Perhaps this just was not for you.

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath, you shook your head. Isaac and Allison stood in your bedroom, whispering amongst themselves, while Scott laid unconscious in the tub. Steadying yourself, you looked at Stiles who was sitting with his head down on the edge of the tub.

"Do I look like a vet?"

"...Well considering recent events-" The words died on his lips, when he saw you tearfully looking at him. Why were you crying? Because you just noticed the crack in your floor from when Scott jumped awake while you were transporting him to the tub. And once again, you realized you'd have to clean that up. Oh, also you noticed Stiles grabbing his keys in his jacket pocket. Was he about to run off and leave Scott with you here? Where was he even about to go?

Here you were, with your AP Bio test first thing tomorrow morning and your boyfriend pushed you across the line once more. How many more emergencies would fall on you? It wasn't his fault. He joined a pack. But there was a certain point that things reached.

"...This isn't working Stiles." Allison and Isaac stopped the whispering, at your low voice. Both of them turned their head to look into your bathroom where you had your arms wrapped around your stomach and had fat tears rolling down your face.

Stiles gaped in disbelief and shook his head slightly before he swallowed thickly. Glancing behind you he got up and shook out his shoulders before he closed the door to the bathroom. This was one conversation he couldn't have any one witness. And Scott was knocked out in the tub, so he hardly counted.

"There's a line Stiles. And you guys crossed it again and again. You promised me last night that you would try setting harder boundaries. You just broke into my room and my new carpet is ruined. You couldn't call? You know anytime of night you call; I answer, you text I respond. I was fine doing all of this when it felt like we were together. When we did things together. Stiles, when was the last time you took me out to dinner, when's the last time we went out on a date, when's the last time I've seen you without everyone attached to you?

You aren't even my boyfriend anymore, you're some guy who I see sometimes when he needs help. Like I'm some sort of booty call except we haven't been having any good sex either because I haven't seen you. And when we do see each other, we just fight. Or have really angry sex that I don't even enjoy anymore." It came out a soft whisper, eyes watering and lip quivering. Staring down at the floor you couldn't even look at him. You couldn't do it.

This was for the two of you. You weren't happy. Nothing he did could make up for it after tonight. You can't push that on him, that's just cruel. He swallowed thickly and you heard his voice breaking. Was he crying? Oh no. Please do not cry.

"I feel like you're only seeing my friends as a hindrance. They're your friends too you know. And it's not fair that you can refer to them that way when all they've done is try to be nice to you. We have people we have to help, and I know things are hard right now, but you know I care about you. It's just right now we're both in some difficult situations."

"That is not the issue. I do love our friends, I do. Their great. But why are you all in my house right now. When I have told you so many times not to do this. First it was a little pop in from time to time. Then it was staying over really late. You said the exact same thing to me last night when our one movie night was crashed. Now it's this. I don't think it's your fault. I think you shouldn't be with me right now Stiles. I don't know if you don't have the time, don't want to make the time or can't make the time, I don't know. But I don't want to keep waiting for you to figure it out."

Stepping away from his outstretched arm when he wanted to pull you closer. Flinching he withdrew his hand when he saw you put your hand up to stop him.

"There are boundaries. I have boundaries-

"And I pushed them again." He finished, the sentence you'd been repeatedly screaming at him over and over again since the issues between you two arose.

Then it was over. The first conversation you two had in over a month that didn't end in screaming, tears, fighting, the both of you insisting you'd never let the other go, and instead of you two having a normal talk it was you two breaking up.

And your rug was still ruined.

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[avengers--assembly]

Sleep deprived results

Summary: Peter basically calls Tony dad for the first time and Tony? He is too sleep deprived to actually realise. The end

Word count: 602

Warnings: none

●◇●◇●◇●◇●◇

Peter yawned hugely as the equations blurred together under his tired gaze. He and Mr. Stark had been working for what felt like forever. They’d started after dinner with Miss Potts, who had promptly chased them away to do their "science stuff." Neither had complained initially, but now that the clock was creeping past two in the morning, Peter knew they both desperately needed sleep. Maybe a snack too, he thought, just as his stomach let out a loud growl. Stifling one last yawn, Peter decided to address his own needs.

“Dad?”

No, no, no. Peter couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He couldn’t have called his mentor, Iron Man, "Dad." Peter's mind raced, conjuring up every mortifying scenario possible. Was Mr. Stark going to disown him or even cancel the adoption?

Before he could spiral further, Mr. Stark replied,“Yes, Petey?”

Was Peter breathing more heavily than usual? It certainly felt that way. Deep breaths. Mr. Stark remained fixated on him, offering no additional input, his half-lidded eyes glazed over. Maybe he didn’t hear me? Should I answer? Yes, yes, of course!

“I was, uh, wondering if you wanted to, uh, have a snack?” Peter finished lamely. If Mr. Stark noticed anything amiss, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Sure kiddo, let’s go. I didn’t even realize we’d been down here so long.” Mr. Stark ended with a sparing glance at the clock.

Peter nodded mutely, following the man and eventually plopping down on one of the island’s bar stools. Mr. Stark started making hot cocoa on the stove, and Peter adjusted his legs nervously. Pepper would definitely deem their current activity unsafe, considering their half-asleep states and the extremely warm milk and open flame.

Peter leveled his gaze with Mr. Stark’s and said the first random thing he could come up with. He had to double-check if Tony’s distant look meant he’d missed the whole "dad" slip.

“Can we make a real cutting-edge, neon pink lightsaber?”

Tony tried to concentrate on the boy’s words but didn’t catch them completely. Peter was staring at him with an analyzing and hopeful expression. Tony was almost certain he’d heard the word "can," so maybe the kid wanted something?

“Sure kid, whatever you want.”

Peter gasped dramatically, and Tony’s half-dead mind tried to grasp a good explanation but found none. Maybe the kid was just excited about whatever he’d agreed to? Tony shrugged and poured the warm, chocolaty drink into two cups before guiding Peter to the couch. Snagging a few cookies on the way, they started a movie that Tony really wasn’t paying attention to.

******

The next morning, Pepper found them both still fast asleep, snuggled up together. Feeling a streak of mischief, she left each of them a personal note. She had things to say after Friday had played some footage from the previous night, things she deemed cute and others not so much. If anybody asked, there were no early morning photos taken.

Peter's note, in neat handwriting, read: "Tony would be honored if you called him Dad, as he already refers to you as his kid."

Tony’s note read: "I swear Tony, if you build a functional lightsaber, no matter what weird color, I will harm you.

P.S. with love from Pepper."

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

I like the idea of introducing the twst cast to things from our world that don’t exist in theirs? For example I for some reason like the silly idea that they don’t have fire alarms? And like when they hear it and you tell them what it is they’re like “wait really?” Or you refer to a place that doesn’t exist in their world like a restaurant or something like that “Ive been to Disneyland so many times” “wtf is Disneyland?” “I’m craving Taco Bell” “huH?”

My favorite tho! I for some weird reason headcanon that people in twisted wonderland don’t know you can go to the moon?💀

And when you bring it up and start mentioning how the first man walked on the moon and they’ve got a robot on Mars they’re like “WAIT SERIOUSLY???” The moon thing is entertaining to me😭

Okay but here's something to consider:

Racism/Classism in language

So much of our language has shitty origins

Like "Hold down the fort" was invented by colonizers fighting off natives

Almost every languages word for 'Cannibal' is derived from an indigenous group. In this case, Kalinago were the tribe that cannibal derived from and they used it to described how "savage" they were. It was also believed to be mixed with the word canine to double that meaning

Like what would their word for cannibal come from?

Phrases like "see you soon" and "Gung ho" here original used to mock Chinese immigrants but lost their og meaning

Gymnasium literally means "to exercise naked" cause the original gyms were fully nude

Assassin is derived from the word Cannabis.

"Okay" came from the Choctaws "okeh" which means "it is so"

That's not even taking into all the sexual terms in the meme culture rn that's slowly having a different meaning (rawdogging, glazing, dick riding, edging, ect)

I mean scumbag, sucks, punk, musk, and porcelain were all sexual in origin too and we no longer associate them to that.

What I'm saying is their words are gonna be so much more interesting with all the additional species there are to be racist to. Esp between fae and humans. The racism has potential ok?

Also how do yall think everyone evolved in this world?? Do the humans there have their origins traced back to tiktaaliks? And if not can you imagine Yuu going to the hospital and the doctors freaking out over your DNA and prob cant give you a blood transfusion?

[noosayog]

[IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU] - ft. knight! iwaizumi hajime

warnings/content: princess! reader x knight/personal guard! iwa, royal au, arranged marraige, angst. One more after this!

wc: 2.1k

part 5. directory here.

--

With Hajime gone, the days fly by. Before you know it, the wedding is set to take place in a week. Your family will be arriving in a few days and will stay to attend the ceremony to be held in the Nekoma castle. There’s no need for you to lift a single finger. Your dress, itinerary, dinner, guest list were all prepared by the maids in the manor. And that was fine because this is not the wedding you always fantasized about anyway. There is no use in stressing over the details. 

What you are excited for, however, is seeing your older brother again. While all the knights and courtesans in Nekoma are kind, you miss your family. 

And despite your father’s brutishness, you do miss him. After the union, you know your opportunities to see him will be few and far in between.

And it goes without saying, but your sore heart aches for your knight. Iwaizumi may have broken your heart, but you would be lying if you said you did not miss him. You have already long resigned to the fact that you will love him forever, silly as that may be. At least once an hour, he double crosses your mind and the next 10 minutes will be spent thinking of him, a deadly mix of daydreaming about his smile and bracing yourself to keep it together when you see him again.

Thus, the days are spent lounging alone in the gardens with a cup of tea and untouched pastries. Sir Kenma and Sir Kai have long given up on checking in on you when the faraway look glazes over your eyes. Most of them, sharp and cunning, have seen right through you, knowing of your feelings for your ex-personal knight. They used to sit with you to keep you company, but that does little to soothe the loneliness that seeps through your bones. So they have learned to give you space. After all, they have the rest of this lifetime to get to know their future queen. The days go by in a blur and before you know it, the day of your family’s arrival comes.

You expect a summon to dinner that night, but none comes. You arrive at the dining room as you do every night and find it completely empty save for some of the maids. When you ask about the Aoba Johsai entourage and the usual Nekoma attendees, the maids only shake their heads. You have dinner alone and wander through the halls in hopes of running into some familiar faces, but the castle hallways are silent and empty. After a dragged out tour of the entire building, including the outdoor gardens, you reluctantly give up on your search. 

Much to your disappointment, the next two days pass similarly. With the exception of Prince Kuroo having breakfast with you, the only human interaction you receive is from the servants. And with that, the day of your wedding arrives. 

~•~ 

The morning greets you with bright sun and beautiful weather, blue skies and not a cloud in  sight, perfect for an early summer wedding. Strangely, not a single maid disrupts your sleep, even after the additional half hour you spend lounging in bed. You decide to get up to find some breakfast and hopefully some company. 

When you push your bedroom door open, two familiar figures standing guard on either side of your doorway turn to face you.  

“Slept in on your big day, eh, Princess?” the first one teases. 

“Pretty heartless of you,” the second one jokes. 

“Mattsun! Makki!” you exclaim, wrapping each of them in a hug. “What are you two doing here?” 

They chuckle warmly, patting you on the back and reciprocating the embrace. 

“We’re here to be your escorts before it’s time to prepare for the ceremony,” Sir Hanamaki explains. 

“Shall we have breakfast in the garden today?” Sir Matsukawa offers.

“Where’s Toru and my parents? Am I not going to see them before the wedding?” 

“‘Fraid not, Princess. They’ve been busy dealing with some diplomatic shit apparently,” Hanamaki responds carelessly. 

“Makki!” you exclaim at his inappropriate language. You have missed that. 

“You’ll see them soon enough,” Matsukawa covers. “Well?” he prompts, offering you a crooked elbow. 

You slip either arm through each of their proffered elbows and practically skip your way to the gardens.  

Breakfast is a pleasant affair as the two catch you up on things you have missed at home. They go through a list of people and their respective updates, including your Father, Mother, Toru, Kindaichi, Kunimi, and all the others. 

They tactfully keep Iwaizumi off the list and while you are undeniably curious, it may just be better off not knowing. It may even be better that he does not come to the wedding at all. You keep those thoughts to yourself. 

After breakfast, they escort you straight back to your room after turning down your request to take a walk in the gardens.

“No can do, Princess.” Matsukawa declines.

“Don’t want you to run into any surprises, you know?” Hanamaki says cryptically. 

Once back in your room, you’re left again to your own devices until lunchtime. At exactly noon, a knock sounds at your door. Without waiting for your permission, the door opens and you are greeted by another face you have missed dearly. 

“Toru!” you exclaim, running over to your brother to tackle him in a hug. 

He lets out a grunt as he catches the impact of your body, giving you an easy spin before setting you back down. 

“Why haven’t I seen you since you’ve arrived?” 

“I’m sorry. There’s been some… situations I have needed to deal with since arriving.” 

He puts a strange emphasis on situations, but you do not question it. After all, diplomatic matters have always been more of Toru’s responsibility than yours.

“I wish we had more time to catch up,” your brother says, “but I have to ask you some questions now.” His eyes show a seriousness unbefitting of your whimsical brother, his voice solemn. 

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. 

“I need to know if you still love Iwaizumi after all this time.” 

You recoil at the question, surprised by the question and baffled by the relevance of the topic at this stage. 

“Don’t think about anything else. Just be honest with me, as my little sister whose happiness I wish for. Be honest with yourself.”  

“Yes,” you whisper. “I do still love him, and I think I always will. You may not know but Prince Kuroo and I… we agreed to…” you trail off, not sure how to explain the situation in a way that will not upset your brother. 

He surprises you by nodding in understanding. “I know. I know what you and the Prince agreed to. And don’t,” he pauses a bit here, as if searching for the correct words. 

“Don’t overthink what I’m about to ask, okay?” 

You nod. 

“If you had the chance, would you still want to be with Iwa? Forget all the circumstances. Do you still long to be with him?” 

Your answer is easy. A tear escapes your eyes as you respond, “if he and I could simply exist as ourselves, and not as our titles, then yes. I do.”

Your brother smiles then. He gives you one more hug and something about the look in his eyes tells you not to ask anymore questions. You return his embrace, allowing yourself to cry silently in his arms. You don’t know how long the two of you stand there like that, only separating when another knocks sounds at the door. 

It’s the maids, ready to prepare you for the ceremony.

Toru releases you, holding both of your shoulders steady. He leans down, face-to-face with you. “Don’t lose faith,” he says quietly, wiping the swiping tears from your cheeks. 

~•~ 

When Toru leaves, the maids enter, but instead of the Nekoma maids you have become accustomed to, it is your old maids and good friends, Rose and Marie. 

They are quick to gather you into a tight embrace, exclaiming about how you have lost weight and mildly reprimanding you for crying your eyes swollen on such a big day. 

With little time to catch up, they prepare you, adorning you with ribbons, flowers, and jewelry, all while chattering away in their comforting voices. When you slip into your dress and finally see yourself in the mirror, a strange calm washes over you. The same calm that has developed in the days you spent daydreaming in the Nekoma gardens. The same calm that covers your consciousness in a blissful haze. The same calm that makes you feel like you are looking at someone else in your body. 

It’s only as Rose and Marie join you on either side, admiring you through the mirror with tears in their eyes that you blink back into the moment. 

“You are so beautiful, Princess,” Rose sniffles.

“We are so proud of you,” Marie adds. 

You smile at them, fighting the urge to cry again and ruin all their hard work. 

“And remember,” they say. “You are destined for happiness. No matter how this day ends. Now, you must go, Princess.” 

This day has been nothing short of cryptic messages, but they are right. Outside, the sun is just beginning to lower itself onto the horizon and the sunset is a summon for you to be at the Grand Hall. You give your friends one last hug and a whispered “thank you,” before making your way out. 

~•~ 

At your arrival, the large double doors open to reveal an intricately decorated setup, but sparsely filled. The number of attendees is incredibly few for a wedding of royal caliber. As practiced, you walk down the aisle, vision blurred by the veil covering your face. When you arrive at the front of the room, Prince Kuroo is not at the altar, as he was during the practice sessions. And instead of an ordained priest behind the altar, your father and Queen Kuroo stand in that place. You see the monarchs of each kingdom holding their stern expressions, but as you meet your fathers gaze through your veil, you see a kind look in his eyes, one you have not seen since you were a child. He gives you a small nod and in spite of your confusion, you proceed.

Your destination is on the small elevated stage by the altar. You take the 2 small steps up, dragging the train of your dress behind you and turn around to face the guests. As you finally get a good glimpse of all the attendees, you notice that Hajime is nowhere in sight. On the Nekoma side of the hall, the first chair closest to the stage is vacant. You are not sure who is missing from the Nekoma side save for your absent fiance. 

The first to speak is Queen Kuroo, as you hear her begin to announce her son. 

“Announcing: Representative of the Royal Family Kuroo, Prince of Nekoma, and future heir to the throne, my son, Kuroo Testuro.” 

At the very end of the hall, the curtains are drawn and you see the Prince enter, walking down the same carpet you did just moments ago. However, instead of alighting the steps to join you on stage, he stands on the ground directly in front of you. He does not turn around to face the guests. You give him a questioning look and he just grins like he knows something you do not, though it seems more and more like everyone knows something about today that you do not. 

Next, you hear your father clear his throat. His next words make you turn your back to the audience to make sure you hear him correctly. 

“Announcing: Captain of the Aoba Johsai Royal Order of Knights,” 

Your breath catches. 

“And future heir to the Dukedom of the Iwaizumi estate, Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

 You swivel around abruptly enough that your veil slides out of position. Your obscured vision only sees a flurry of motion at the end of the hall. You see the curtain at the back of the hall pulled back to reveal a figure you dare not register as familiar, though it is one that you have watched and chased after for as long as you remember. Your vision grows hazy and you don’t know if it’s tears or the veil. So you pull the veil right off, not trusting your covered eyes. 

At the other end of the carpet, is Iwaizumi Hajime, not in his usual armor, but dressed in formal attire, not unlike Prince Kuroo’s. His eyes are trained intensely on yours. Something in the way he looks at you, walks to the altar, and takes your hands tells you that he is not here to simply watch. He is here for you.

[sgiandubh]

Just so stories: Mommy and Daddy

In the (questionably) blessed White Picket Fenced America of 1955, things were deceptively simple:

Mommy stayed home, while Daddy was earning enough cash to buy that new Frigidaire.

Uhm. No, not really: see what happens to Mad Men's Betty Draper, the pearl-stringed suburbia matron. Not exactly a cheerful look, but perhaps a true, albeit neurotic, one.

For some unfathomable reason, one of the main dismissive arguments used against shippers reads along some very similar lines. I paraphrase, as this is a collective POV (probably stemmed from CO's laboratory and snowballed to great success across their dashboards):

'Oh, aren't they stupid! How can they expect C to follow him around the world, children in tow, at his beck and call? Or to wait for him, military wife style, as he traipses from Vegas to London to Paris to Belgium? What are these, The Fifties?'

To this Dorothy Dixon, along comes one of the Tumblrette Pundits, with a ready-made answer, always the same:

'Of course they are stupid! Of course she doesn't! Every time she is working somewhere, she brings McSideburns and The Blonde Bambino around! And McSideburns takes care of Blonde Bambino, as he should! Reality, not fantasy!'

Let alone they have absolutely no clue about the real state of play, given the almost complete, paranoid opacity reigning since at least a Certain Sad Event. Let alone that no other logical/common sense argument provided is accepted (cults seldom deal in both acceptance and common sense);

Nannies? Pah, so 1992! Family safety net? Pah, so suburban! Working parents? Pah, these people are stars, their life is a cornucopia of perks and freebies and glam!

So, in a nutshell, according to them:

Mommy is busy working and Daddy follows all along/ stays at home with Blonde Bambino, hoping that Mommy will bring enough cashola to finish that double glazing people usually install in December.

In other words, we immediately picture C as a 'starke, titanische Weib' / the strong, titanic woman German poets were so fond of back in the 1800's. Dragging along a diminutive, shy, understanding and private McSideburns, trousered Vestal extraordinaire. The rest is taboo (or should be, in my book), at any rate.

Something wrong with this vision? Yes. It's exactly the 1950's one they accuse us of espousing (we don't), but this time the male/female symbolic roles are reversed. As a result, a shrink would have many thoughts and probably a handful of questions about that need to completely castrate the Goddess's Consort to perfect oblivion. Obliterating his life, his story and even his name, for Christ's sake!

Not a good look for either C and The Prop and, to be honest, quite a weird, borderline insulting one, especially when coming from 'respectful, realistic' fans. The real utility seems to be concealing the emptiness of a Tale Forever Untold. It will be effectively replaced by the chorus with the perfect fantasy of a modern dad, a successful producer/manager and so on and so forth.

Reality is a bit different, if you just take a look on The Fratellis' Wikipedia page and follow the links:

But, but, but... 'additional personnel' (😱😱😱) - how could that be?

And yes, remember (LOL) David Eustace and the FMN shooting photo of the Happy Dynamic Duo? Happy to oblige to a friend who provided a work project (that album was postponed two or three times, then released in 2021) during COVID, probably.

The mere thought of a young, urban, sophisticated, committed and trusting couple, living and loving their best life, traveling separately or together, allowing 'spaces in their togetherness' (wasn't that The Prophet quote she liked and shared?) is something that gives them the shingles. Anything but this. Anything - even that sad The Empress and Her Additional Personnel narrative.

You see, they don't like The Obvious. At all.

[calqlate]

RE: LOVE & LIFE | FOUR

— WHERE THE LILY SLEEPS

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING(S): zhongli x f! reader + diluc x f! wife! reader

SUMMARY: As the wife of the famous big shot in the wine industry, you have everything you could ever ask for — a beautiful mansion, endless wealth, servants at your beck and call... However, you lack the one thing you yearn for: love. With your beloved husband neglecting you and being stuck in a loveless marriage, you decide to end it all, only to be stopped by a man whom you have never met before, and who also coincidentally happens to be your soulmate. In addition, there just might seem to be more than what meets the eye in regards to your peculiar soulmate, and you just might have to find that out for yourself.

TAGLIST (italicised blogs are unable to be tagged, pls dm me with your updated username): @crescentmoonnn + @deeomi + @esthelily + @holaseniorahoe + @loving-august + @mshope16 + @needsleep3000 + @nerdiel-has-no-braincells + @saintbernardthethird + @seyboo + @thelonelyarchon

A/N: apologies for the wait, school has been a pain in the butt (and grad school applications have been insane). here's the new chapter!

Upon reaching the entrance of Wangshu Hotel, you turned to face Zhongli and bowed, “Thank you for accompanying me, Mr. Zhongli. I appreciate it.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Zhongli mirrored you and returned the bow, a small smile on his face.

There was a moment of comfortable silence as you made eye contact with Zhongli. With the way the sun was setting slightly in the distance, the sun’s rays were angled in such a manner whereby Zhongli was seemingly casted in a golden halo, making him seem ethereal. Otherworldly, even. Somehow, that particular moment looked immensely picturesque, yet hauntingly familiar.

“You have been staring at me for some time,” Zhongli’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you blinked, “Is there perhaps something on my face?”

“No, no, not at all!” you shook your head and smiled, “I just thought that you looked wonderful in the light.”

Zhongli stared at you, unblinking. Neither him nor you were speaking, and the weight of your earlier sentence settled over you. Oh, Archons, I just blurted whatever I had on my mind without thinking again, didn’t I?

Your face flushed bright red in embarrassment as you choked out, “I’m sorry! I have a tendency to speak freely sometimes.”

To your surprise, Zhongli chuckled as his eyes crinkled into little crescent moons, “There is no need to feel ashamed. It’s quite a refreshing habit you have.”

“That’s a really polite excuse,” you groaned as you smacked yourself inwardly. You really needed to stop being so loose-lipped. You nodded your head in the direction of the hotel as you spoke, “I should head back now.”

“I hope you rest well tonight,” Zhongli said as he clasped his hands behind his back with a nod.

“Goodbye, Mr. Zhongli,” you said as you raised your hand up for a wave before turning around to head back into the hotel.

Zhongli watched your figure retreat into the hotel. Only did he see you get past the double glass doors and were safely tucked into the premises then he finally made his own trip back to the funeral parlour.

(Knowing how nosy his boss could be, Celestia forbid her from badgering him for his whereabouts.)

While drying your hair with a towel, you sat down in front of the little dressing table and pulled the little trinket you had received earlier in the day out of its paper bag. It was a fazhan hairpin made out of jade, adorned with Glaze Lillies crafted from minerals on one end of it.

The moment you laid your eyes on the hairpin, something stirred in your heart. You furrowed your brows together as you picked it up gently, cradling it in your palms. This hairpin seemed... familiar, somehow, but you could not understand why. It was your first time laying eyes on it, and you had never chanced upon hairpins with a similar design before.

“Ma’am! I’ve found something!” you called Madam Ping over.

The old woman walked over and eyed the accessory in your hands before her eyes widened for a fragment of a second. Before you could ask her what was wrong, she smiled gently at you, “Wonderful choice, child.” A pause, then she asked, “Do you like it?”

“It is beautiful,” you said as you stared at the hairpin, a smile spreading across your lips. Waves of nostalgia surged in your veins, tinged with... sadness? Melancholy? You could not quite place a finger on the name of the emotion that was filling you.

“This hairpin has finally found its owner,” Madam Ping smiled, “I hope you will create beautiful memories with it this time.”

You nodded, taking her cryptic message as a passing remark, “I will.”

You rolled the hairpin back and forth between your fingers, the dim lighting of your hotel suite reflecting off the Glaze Lilly decorations in a sparkly manner. A part of you could not bear to wear it; you wanted to keep it in a glass box and immortalise it as a souvenir from your trip. However, an innate part of you was insisting that you should not do that, and instead wear it out as intended.

Carefully, you set it down on the dressing table, I’ll wear it out tomorrow.

You were standing in an expansive field full of Glaze Lillies. No matter how far you walked, it seemed like there was no end to this particular flower field. You walked leisurely, admiring the endless sea of flowers surrounding you.

You halted your footsteps, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath in. The air was fresh and the fragrant scent of the flowers permeated in the air.

You opened your eyes, drinking the scenery in. This entire place was picturesque, as if you had stepped right into a painting. If only your husband were here—

“There you are.”

You turned around at the sound of a voice, your eyes settling on the figure of a man approaching you. The man was dressed in a long, dark brown robe dotted with golden accents, his head partially blurred out due to the sunlight obstructing your view as well as the distance between the both of you. Despite not being able to discern his countenance properly, you could instinctively tell that this man was the one your heart was beating so ardently for: your husband.

However, as the distance between both of you grew smaller, the sunlight started framing his face in a better angle and his features grew all the more clearer: straight, dark hair with gold tips and a matching pair of eyes set on a handsome face, with skin so fair it could rival that of the colour of a Glaze Lily’s petals. It was not Diluc; it was the funeral parlour consultant, Zhongli.

While he was not who you were expecting, your lips curled upward into a smile as if it were second nature to you. You could feel the warmth in your chest overflow you and fill every vein in your body, with every cell in your body having an affectionate reaction to this man. You opened your mouth to call out his name, but not a single word came out: your mouth was indeed moving, but your voice was completely muted, as if someone had muted the audio function on a video.

“What were you thinking about so intently?” Zhongli asked as he stood next to you, hands clasped behind his back.

“The war,” you answered as your smile dropped considerably at the thought of the heavy topic, then averted your gaze to the side, “Just... I wish that it didn’t have to reach this point.”

Zhongli’s smile took a bittersweet edge to it, “There is no need to worry. Just think of this war as one to quell some... social unrest.”

You snorted, “That’s a really polite way of putting it. What would the other adepti think?”

“I am sure they would agree and give similar remarks of their own,” he responded. There was a brief pause as his gaze softened, “After this is all over, may I ask you to accompany me for some tea?”

You turned your head and met his gaze: it was warm, sincere, and full of affection — a look that would not be given to mere acquaintances. In addition, his tone of voice felt as though there was something he wanted to tell you. Something deeper and perhaps even more intimate. If it were up to you, you would have asked him to spill the beans there and then, but given the situation of the aforementioned war (which you had very little idea about), you concluded that you would wait. Once everything wad over, you would sit him down and ask him to confide in you and confess everything to you.

You could only smile and nod, “Of course. You know I’d never pass up tea from the one and only—”

You tried verbalising his name out loud again, but your voice was seemingly robbed from you once more. However, it seemed that he did hear you say his name: Zhongli’s response was a simple hum, and both of you turned to admire the sea of Glaze Lillies in comfortable silence.

When the morning came, you awoke with your eyes feeling heavier than ever, as if you had cried for a long time. You raised your hand to your cheeks, feeling damp skin beneath your fingertips. Your fingers glided higher towards the base of your eyes. With one quick swipe, you felt moisture on your skin. Was I crying in my sleep?

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached out and grabbed it, seeing a notification pop up, reading that a bank transfer had been made to your account. You unlocked your phone to check the deposit, which your bank app read, “Incoming bank transfer from Diluc Ragnvindr”, and below it was a string of numerical digits. A text message soon popped up from your husband, which read, “Have fun in Liyue”.

You frowned. You were rudely reminded of this particular trait of your husband which you detested: sending you money instead of checking in on you or spending time with you. You scoffed, Does he really believe that quality time can be bought with money?

Whatever the case may be, you refused to use his money. No, not when it was a cheap means to placate you. Husband be damned; you were going to spend your own money and have fun on your own in this foreign country.

You eyed the hairpin glittering from its spot on the dresser and grinned. The first thing on the agenda would be accomplished with the accessory.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

A Court of Ice and Shadows: Chapter 1

OC Character x Azriel

Summary: Set after "A Court of Silver Flames" (ACOSF), this story follows original character Lene, an elite warrior of the Hesker Clan from the Winter Court. Tasked with diplomatic duty in the Night Court, Lene's mission is to help retrain the Valkyries and help squash potential uprising in the Illyrian camps. As she navigates centuries-old animosities and discovers herself beyond the icy confines of her homeland, Lene must confront her past and decide who she wants to become.

Click here for other parts:

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Characters: Featuring original characters alongside core characters from the ACOTAR series.

Disclaimers: All characters and settings pertaining to the core ACOTAR series belong to Sarah J. Maas, with additional material created for the purpose of this fanfiction

Content Warnings: None.

Note: Some words used in this story are of Norwegian or Scandinavian origin. I do not speak either language, but adapted the researched words to fit the narrative. For notes regarding any of these words, see the end of the chapter.

Chapter One:

The frigid winds of the Winter Court had always been a constant in Lene’s life, whispering secrets of ancient magic and carrying icy promises of the future. As delicate snowflakes drifted gracefully around the towering spires of her home, Lene stood enveloped in her silver furs, her gaze sweeping over the frost-kissed gardens below. Today, the wind gnawed with an unusually penetrating chill, a sensation that Lene normally found invigorating, but now it stirred a restless unease within her. Something was shifting in the air, a change that tingled across her skin like a premonition.

Lene’s fingers tightened around the frozen railing, the warmth of her touch coaxing small beads of water to trail down the ice-glazed iron. She inhaled sharply, the biting cold piercing her lungs and mingling with a faint sense of dread as she exhaled a misty breath, watching it swirl and disappear into the frigid air. Snowflakes caught on the tips of her eyelashes, sparkling momentarily before melting away.

From the shadowed underbrush dusted with snow, a white fox emerged, its movements silent and cautious. The creature paused, its bright eyes scanning the quiet, snow-covered path before it boldly approached the grand manor’s doorstep. With an almost regal air, the fox reared onto its hind legs, as if checking the residence it had been tasked to find. Satisfied, it gently set down a scroll encased in a sleek glass cylinder, protected from the elements. After completing its delivery, the fox cast a quick glance over its shoulder, its bushy tail flicking playfully as it scampered down the pathway, leaving behind a delicate trail of paw prints as it yipped. 

As the fox bounded down the path, Lene's eyes caught a glint of red—a vest intricately embroidered with golden threads that spiraled into the design of a complex snowflake. This was no ordinary courier fox; this one bore the distinct regalia of the High Court Palace. As the creature slipped beneath the iron gate and vanished from sight, a wave of curiosity stirred within Lene. What could the High Lord possibly need at such an ungodsly hour?

Turning, Lene retreated from the biting cold, pushing open the heavy double doors to re-enter the manor's welcoming warmth. A rush of heated air kissed her reddened cheeks, a soothing relief from the biting cold. With a fluid motion, she lowered the hood of her silver parka, untying it and draping it gracefully over the red velvet chaise by the entrance. Freeing her almost white, blonde hair from its confines, she let it cascade behind her shoulders, smoothing down her blue tunic that had bunched awkwardly beneath her coat. Despite the slight discomfort, she wouldn’t dare ask her grandmother to fashion her a new one, cherishing each piece the elder matriarch made.

Her boots left soft impressions on the plush rugs lining the floors as her footsteps echoed softly down the richly adorned hallways, framed by dark oaks and pine. Each step carried her deeper into the heart of the manor, toward the grand hall—a magnificent expanse where shadows danced with the roaring firelight and the air was thick with the scent of cranberry and pine. Lene took the staircase hurriedly, her feet barely touching the steps before she reached the grand hall floor, striding swiftly across to the large oak door that stood imposingly ahead. 

Lene stretched onto her toes to peer through the frosted window panes, her eyes searching the ground where the fox had carefully placed the letter, now slowly being concealed by a fresh layer of snow. With a determined breath, she opened the grand door, its hinges releasing a soft creak that echoed faintly in the chilly air. Bracing against the cold, she stepped out to retrieve the letter.

Clutching the frozen cylinder, Lene hastened back inside, the door shutting swiftly behind her as a few rebellious snowflakes danced in with the gust of wind. Leaning against the sturdy oak, she wrapped the bottom edge of her tunic around the silver cap of the letter holder, using the fabric to insulate her fingers as she twisted it open. The cap finally gave way with a resounding clink, releasing the sealed message inside. 

Lene tipped the holder, allowing the parchment to slide smoothly into her waiting hands. Tucking the glass container securely under her arm, she carefully unrolled the scroll, revealing the familiar, thin, and curled handwriting of High Lord Kallias. Her eyes quickly scanned the message, taken aback slightly by the formality of such a message: 

“My Dearest Lene,

I apologize for the inconvenient timing of this message, but please know I would not call upon you without need.

I request your presence tomorrow morning at the castle to discuss a rather urgent matter regarding a neighboring court. Rest assured, the details are not grim, nor cause for any concern or panic. But this is a matter that will need to be addressed promptly. 

Please meet me in the central court room tomorrow morning at 10 and I shall provide more details then. 

I look forward to seeing you, 

High Lord, Kallias”

Lene’s brows furrowed as she mulled over the cryptic nature of Kallias’s message. What urgent matter could involve another court yet not be cause for concern? With a twist, she secured the parchment back into the glass holder, the lid clicking firmly into place. Pushing off the door, she made her way through the grand hall entry towards the sitting room, her head swirling.

Upon crossing the threshold, Lene found herself enveloped in the warm embrace of firelight, illuminating her grandmother, seated regally in an aged wingback chair. The flames seemed to brighten her grandmother's braids, intricately woven threads of silver and white that shimmered with a touch of otherworldly luminescence. Those piercing blue eyes, sharp as the edge of winter, met Lene's gaze, reflecting a similar hue yet distinguished by whirls of deep sapphire. Her grandmother's brows knit together in keen scrutiny as tracked Lene’s march across the richly adorned sitting room, her hand poised elegantly around a glass of brandy.

Lene settled at her grandmother's feet upon the plush carpet, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them. The scent of pine from the crackling fire mingled with the aged notes of brandy, weaving the comforting aroma of home around her. In the quiet, her grandmother studied her, the silence stretching between them.

"Something troubling you, elskling?" Her grandmother's voice finally broke the silence, a soft yet formidable sound in the dimly lit room.

Lene's lips twisted wistfully, her eyes remaining fixed on the dancing flames. "I'm not sure," she murmured, the words barely a whisper.

Her grandmother took a measured sip from her glass, finishing it in a slow, deliberate gulp before setting it aside. The crystal caught the light, glinting briefly. "You seem restless."

Lene paused a moment, "It's a letter from Kallias," she confessed, her voice a mix of curiosity and unease as she unfolded her legs, stretching one out while keeping the other bent. She retrieved a cylindrical holder from the floor, handing it to her grandmother. The elder's fingers, bony yet steady with the weight of years, accepted the parchment. "He's summoned me for tomorrow morning to discuss matters at another court."

Her grandmother unfurled the parchment, eyes scanning the words swiftly. "And what makes this summons so troubling?"

Lene watched her grandmother's expression, seeking any sign of insight. "It’s his formality and vagueness," she explained. "That’s unlike him. He’s normally much more blunt."

Her grandmother's hands deftly rolled the parchment back into its ornate glass cylinder, the movement elegant and practiced. Leaning forward, she passed the container back to Lene, her eyes narrowing slightly as they captured her granddaughter's troubled expression. "So, is it his tone that stirs this unrest within you?"

"It’s just peculiar," Lene admitted, placing the letter beside her on the lush carpet. Her gaze drifted away, lost in the shadows that the firelight failed to touch. "The last time Kallias and I spoke, he mentioned nothing about unrest or discord among the courts. Everything appeared...relatively quiet."

She hesitated, a frown creasing her brow. "In fact, it seemed as though Prythian was experiencing some form of odd harmony." Lene’s voice grew softer, more introspective. "I’ve harbored doubts about this peace, grandmother. It feels too quiet, like everyone is parading around in masks of smiles and happiness while something festers beneath the surface."

Turning her head to meet her grandmother’s age-wise eyes, Lene’s own shone with a mix of resignation and defiance. "I suppose I’ve been bracing myself for the reality to shatter it. For someone smart enough to take advantage of it."

Her grandmother absorbed Lene’s words, her aged face lined with understanding but tempered with the hardness of someone who had witnessed atrocities committed when thin layers of peace began to crumble. “I do not fault you for preparing for the worst. The most devastating storms often follow the calmest days.” Lene’s grandmother hesitated, thinking over her words, “But you cannot live your life on the calm days only fearing for what is to come.” 

Lene let out a soft scoff, drawing her knees closer to her chest once more. "I appreciate the insight, Mormor," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the flickering shadows cast by the fire rather than her grandmother's face. "Do you believe there’s something more at play? Something... larger?”

Her grandmother reclined deeper into the wingback chair, the empty brandy glass twirling idly in her hand. "I don't believe Kallias would summon you without substantial reason," she mused. "You possess one of the sharpest, most tactical minds at his disposal. Perhaps he does indeed sense a shift on the horizon. But pondering the unsaid here is a futile endeavor. You will learn what you need to know soon enough. For now, perhaps there's virtue in the ignorant bliss of the unknown."

Lene smiled wryly, rolling her eyes affectionately. “You know I’m incapable of basking in ‘ignorant bliss,’” she quipped, her fingers air-quoting the last words.

At her grandmother's beckoning gesture, Lene moved to sit directly before the older woman, crawling on hands and knees before turning to face away from her. Her grandmother's fingers deftly began unraveling the small braids in Lene’s hair, undoing the intricate knots with gentle precision as she combed through the long strands. "You are very much like me, Lene," she observed quietly.

A laugh bubbled up from Lene’s throat. "I can imagine how delighted Mama would be to hear that comparison.”

Her grandmother gave a gentle tug on her hair, eliciting a slight hiss from Lene. "It’s your mind, elsking—it races too much, always darting ahead, never quite content to simply be here, in the moment."

As her grandmother tenderly rebraided her hair, the comforting touch that Lene often sought in moments of frenzy. "Mormor—" Lene began, only to be gently interrupted.

"It would do you well to allow yourself time to rest, to let your mind ease," her grandmother advised, her voice imbued with a soft firmness.

Lene drew in a deep breath, "I wish it were that easy," she confessed softly.

Finishing the braids, her grandmother expertly arranged the twin plaits over Lene's shoulders. Lene caught one, her fingers tracing the woven strands, pulling at a few loose ends as she contemplated her next words.

Her grandmother's gaze lingered on Lene, memories flooding back of a time when she was but a child, her small figure always close by. When allowed, Lene’s grandmother would allow her to sit with her in Kallias’s father’s court with Lene silently urging her grandmother to re-braid her hair while seated comfortably in her lap. Those moments seemed to echo in the quiet of the sitting room, where Lene, the red-nosed little snowflake, used to watch the other fae children play in the snow, always by the side of her mother and grandmother.

Lene parted her lips to speak, but her grandmother preempted her words with a reassuring hand on her shoulder, standing up from her chair. Lene looked up, meeting her grandmother’s eyes as she leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "You were born with a strong head on your shoulders, burdened with the desire to care for others, and you excel in your role. There's no need to unsettle yourself over possibilities that have yet to manifest, my elskling," her grandmother said, her hands cradling Lene's face, eyes searching hers deeply.

"I know, Mormor," Lene responded after a moment, her voice steady as she took one of her grandmother’s hands in her own.

Her grandmother smiled gently, a sparkle of affection in her eyes. "I know you know. I just want you to trust in that." She bestowed another tender kiss upon the crown of Lene's head before standing. "Get some sleep, Lene."

"I won't be much longer," Lene assured her, her voice soft but firm. "Sov gott, Mormor."

"Sov gott, my elskling," her grandmother called over her shoulder as she exited the sitting room, leaving Lene in the comforting solitude with only the crackling fire to fill the silence.

Lene glanced over the letter, lying on the floor, scoffing as she once again ran through the various possibilities for her summons before standing from the floor, drawing the letter up and retreating to her bedroom for the night.

Parts:

Notes:

Elskling - “Darling” in Norwegian

Mormor - “Grandmother” in Norwegian

Sov gott - “Sleep tight” in Swedish

Thank you for taking the time to read this first chapter of what I hope will be a larger series. I haven't written anything long form creatively in years but I am hoping through this I can rekindle some of my love of writing. I know that this may not be everyone's cup of tea but for those who are willing to indulge me in this, I so greatly appreciate you. I am slowly relearning to appreciate the art I can produce and allowing myself this outlet is so healing. Much love, and to many more. - A Court of Mishap and Mistakes

[nolanfa]

FTH

Hi! I'm participating in Fandom Trumps Hate this year, in the fancraft bazaar (meaning I'll be offering physical items).

So. I'll be offering a clay medaillon with up to one symbol per face (I can do more than two sides, too, if I make it pyramidal. It will be heavier though). Example of a two-sided medaillon, painted with the Hawkeye symbol on one face and the Winter Soldier one on the other:

Price tiers: - 20 or more: a single-sided medaillon - 30 or more: a double-sided medaillon - 40 or more: a three-sided pyramidal medaillon - 50 or more: a four-sided pyramidal medaillon - 60 or more: a five-sided cylinder (base triangle) medaillon - 70 or more: a six-sided double pyramid medaillon (for example: if you offer 45, you may ask for a single-, double-, or three-sided medaillon)

Bidding form here. See bids here.

More info under the cut

Wait what's FTH:

@fandomtrumpshate is a charity drive centered around the creation of fanworks (fanart, fanfic, services (like betaing or podcasting), etc.; the vast majority of things are fandom-centered but it's not actually a prerequisite); the way it works is: you bid on an auction set up by a participant; on march 9th, the winner is selected; I (let's say you bid on my auction) contact the winner, who then makes a donation of the amount that won the bid to one of the charities on the list, and sends me the proof of donation; I send the proof of donation to fth, contact the winner to check what exactly they want, make it and then send it to them (they pay for the shipping); more info there: https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/FAQ (look around their blog for the other participants too!)

Timetable:

The example medaillon is already done and will be sent immediately if the highest bidder chooses those symbols. I can make other single- or double-sided medaillons in a couple weeks. For more than two sides, or if you want your medaillon glazed instead of painted, it may take a few months.

Why do you keep saying medaillon, isn't it just a necklace?

I can send it as a necklace (with waxed cotton string and a toggle clasp (the ones shaped like an I and an O) or just a knot) or just the medaillon if you want to hang it on a wall; we can discuss that later: as long as I already have the materials at hand I can do whatever you like best.

Symbols available:

I am mostly into Marvel and DC (and Teen Wolf but I don't think they have clear character-related symbols?), but if you want simple geometrical symbols from other fandoms (or non-fandom) I can do it too (just send me a reference).

Glaze? Paint? What's the difference?

The symbol can be painted on with stained glass-imitation paint, solvent-based. This solution is faster (a couple weeks), since I already have everything on hand. Or it can be glazed (glaze is a glass-like color/material fired at very high temperatures; it is very sturdy: you'll break the medaillon before you manage to scratch it, dilute it, or flake it off; the one I use is shiny). Glaze takes more time (a few months) because I need to make a new clay medaillon, wait for it to dry, get it to the kiln, wait for the kiln people to fire it, add the glaze, and get it to the kiln again for a second firing. The pattern will probably be lightly raised. I have slightly less glaze than paint colors, and black glaze is for now an issue (I can't guarantee it'll look good). For an example of a glazed medaillon I made, see the first picture here: https://nolanfa-shop.fourthwall.com/en-eur/products/medaillons-birds

Shipping - as in sending stuff :) :

I will ask you to cover the shipping costs in addition to the donation. If you win the auction, you'll have to make the donation to the charity of your choice (which is the amount I take into account for the price tiers) and send me the proof of donation, then send me the amount needed for shipping (I'll tell you how much it is depending on where you live).

More questions?

You can contact me at nolanfa (dot) art (at) gmail (dot) com if you have any questions.

[lilrathands]

Ministry Days: Oui, Chef!

Genre: Pure fluff, comfort, kitchenalia, some foreshadowing of future events, an attempt at comedy was made.

Rating: The swears, simulated wanking

WC: 2438 (I have no idea how this happened)

Warnings: A little sappy, threats of violence, light Chapter 16 spoilers. Copia suffering, no door, too many tax receipts, Seestor being a big meanie.

A/N: All HCs are my own damn fault, or taken from various bits of the Chapters, interviews, Tender Father’s ramblings. Also may have been absorbed by osmosis and exposure to the fandom. You are welcome to use them.

The kitchen was Mountain's happy place. The rhythm, sounds and organised chaos was very much like being on stage, his steady heartbeat moving things along, suffusing each dish with a bit of that ethereal ghoul magic. He could be found here most evenings, amongst the polished copper pots, his head deftly bobbing between the battery of cooking implements hanging from wrought iron racks.

There had been a few teething problems involving chipped horns and swollen lumps that had to be soothed by Aether. Even though Aeth had tisked and chided Mountain each time, he was tickled by his new found love for cooking.

The road to hell, in fact, was paved with dinners. Some lavish to the point of obscenity (particularly if the ministry was hosting high-ranking clergy from abroad), some as simple as a bowl of warming soup and dark bread fresh from the ovens. It would of course be slathered with butter made from the milk of Primo's prized dairy cows who doubled as the resident lawn trimmers. Every ghoul was threatened under penalty of death - fuck with the cows and find out at your peril. As such, the ministry kitchens were equipped to feed a small (unholy) army.

The ghouls, however, kept stranger hours- often more active at night and sleeping after dawn crept its fingers over the spires of the ministry chapel. Once the kitchen had cleared of the daytime staff, it was Mountain's preferred spot. A fire would be lit in the hearth again, kicking up embers to light new tinder and carefully stacked logs. Then there was the large bay window that had become home to a variety of potted herbs and trailing ivy - all courtesy of him. The day staff had delighted in the addition, never needing to venture outside in the bitter chill of winter in Lincopia to harvest herbs from the ministry greenhouse.

The one exception to this was Sundays. Papa insisted that he make the ghouls a communal dinner, from scratch, all by himself (unless Dewdrop decided to force his involvement on the former cardinal). Papa had a paternal streak a mile wide, and loved tinkering with old recipes until they were just right for his little band of hellspawn. Dinner on Sundays was usually late, even by ghoul standards.

Oddly, Dewdrop was an occasionally curious kitchen hand, very adamant that he be shown things step-by-step and in great detail. Whenever Mountain would gently inquire, why exactly Dew was so keen, he would be admonished with a sullen stare that hinted at acts of future violence.

On this particular night an English roast dinner had been requested, with Aether claiming he had developed an affinity for them after spending some time in Britian in an earlier century. Under a different, unnamed master.

He had conjured up visions of tables laden with joints of roasted meat, stuffings, potatoes roasted with drippings or lard, vegetables glazed or creamed into submission, sauces aplenty and those strange little puffs of air called 'Yorkshire puddings'.

Mountain had practically galloped to the library - Dew madly scrambling to keep up with him. The library had a considerable collection of antique cook books and treatises on the culinary arts. The siblings of sin had helped him find a volume titled 'Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management', from around the time Aeth said he had been in service.

The book was bound in red linen, with gilt lettering and counted among its charms a stained title page, several pages of the 'Cakes' section glued together by Satan-knows-what and, curiously, an entire chapter on 'Carving at the Table' had been unceremoniously ripped out.

Walking back into the kitchen Mountain set the book on the long wooden trestle table that graced one side of the main kitchen and sat on the well-scrubbed bench seat.

"Well, looks like we're a little fucked on the pomp and ceremony bit but at least we can scrape together some of the easier recipes."

Dew stood behind him, peering over his shoulder, making a range of faces that covered everything from abject disgust to confusion and back to dry wretching.

"It's all so fucking BROWN! How could Aeth even stomach this stuff much less want to eat it again?" Dew hissed through gritted teeth.

Mountain knew that Dew also had questionable taste in food, once having caught him eating spoonfuls of dry spices, but decided to keep that thought to himself. Dew had nearly choked to death in a puff of cinnamon when Mountain had opened the pantry door looking for the fancy fleur de sel Terzo had brought up from France.

"Well, they say that brown equals flavour, buddy. Millions of people can't be wrong, well I mean they can, but let's just go with the former. Alright, let's gather everything we need up, I'll head to the root cellar, can you crank the ovens? Let's do roast pork with crackling, glazed root vegetables, crispy roast potatoes, apple and onion gravy, horseradish cream and maybe some of those yorkshire pudding things?"

"Oui, chef!" Dew practically yelled, puffing his chest out and standing as tall as he could (he was still very small, but the effort was what counted).

Mountain gave an awkward thumbs-up, wondering what the fuck had gotten into him lately? Everyone knew he was a raging perfectionist that mastered every task he was given, but this was just extreme.

There was a door adjacent to the pantry that led down into the root cellar, Mountain practically doubling over to avoid concussion as he descended the narrow stairs. The ministry had long sat unused until the 1930s, and was a former abbey dating back to the 1400s with an extensive network of catacombs,  underground chambers and cellars. This was just one storage cellar, the ministry being dotted with them, some still sealed and unused.

The cellar room itself was large enough for Mountain to stand up in, with a small, vaulted ceiling from which hung braids of garlic, onions, dried peppers and woody herbs. The door was always tightly sealed to keep Copia's rats from infiltrating the stores.

Mountain collected his root vegetables (wintered carrots, parsnips and yellow turnips) from wooden boxes and grabbed a large burlap sack of potatoes, still dirty with sandy soil. He relished the smell of soil in winter, even if it was long dry and devoid of the rich aroma of life and death that all healthy earth has. A braid of garlic, a few stray apples (these would need replenishing from the larger store cellars) and six onions were added to his basket.

Upstairs, Dew had collected a pair of ancient roasting tins that would hold two racks of pork, which he was salting and oiling. Mountain tipped his basket out onto the table and brought the onions and apples to Dew.

"Alright, slice these thinly and make a bed for the pork after you put down a little oil. Toss a few sprigs of rosemary underneath the pork as well."

Dew relished the knifework, his fingers flying adeptly just as they did on-stage. Soon sounds of sniffling and cursing could be heard from his corner of the kitchen.

"Mounty, can you pass me some paper towel? Please?"

Mountain dutifully ripped off a few sheets and handed them to Dew. Tears were streaming from his eyes, and they had gotten incredibly red, much more than any human Mountain had seen chop onions.

"Buddy, are you ok? You don't look so great..."

Wordlessly, Dew picked up the knife and pointed it at Mountain's chest.

"I...am...fine...I'm...not...crying. If you tell the others, I will end you."

Dew slowly turned to face his stinky nemesis again, his knife now pointing down at the alliums.

"I am the lord and master of these onions and will prevail. SUBMIT TO ME, YOUR ONION LORD!" Dew exclaimed as he began furiously slicing the onions again.

Mountain stiffly turned back to his own cutting board while questioning the choice of giving Dew access to a large, sharp knife. Maybe he should just give him the vegetable peeler next time...

Soon there were neat piles of chopped veg, minced herbs and bowls of coarse salt and freshly ground pepper in front of Mountain. A large tray lined with baking paper stood ready, as he tipped and mixed everything together. A final flourish of honey from the pantry was drizzled over everything.

Dew had indeed conquered the onions, and the pork was sizzling in one of the large, furnace-like ovens. Little sparks of fire magic were floating around him like orange fireflies, and Mountain could tell that Dew was manipulating the fire, willing the ancient oven to get hot enough to properly cook the crackling roast.

"Thanks buddy, you're doing a great job there."

Mountain gingerly patted him on his shoulder, to which Dew blushed and fumbled a "Thanks, chef."

While the roast was cooking, the pudding batter was assembled, the horseradish grated and gently folded into cream with a little vinegar, salt and pepper (more tears from Dew, Mountain wordlessley handing over paper towels).

It was time for the potatoes to be tipped into hot fat, and the tray of vegetables to be placed into the now less-furnacey oven. Dew had opened the oven and with his golden crown of hair blowing around him, had drawn the heat into himself, then promptly run outside and exhaled vast quantities of steam. Mountain marvelled at how strong his magic could be when he was focused and calm, something he noticed was happening more often these days.

Returning to work, they scrubbed the boards, knives, bowls and utensils, and set the table for Papa and the ghouls. They had a little time to have a cup of tea and biscuits, as the meat had to rest before carving. The siblings of sin always kept a tin of biscuits around for the ghouls, as it was an easy way to barter with them - they had become fond of earthly delights.

Mountain loved the little heart-shaped  linzer cookies filled with jam, while Dew enjoyed the dark chocolate shortbreads dotted with orange zest and redolent with spice. They missed them while on tour, and would often request that the kitchen send along a tin or two to fix any cases of homesickness.

The smell of dinner had clearly wafted through the abbey as Aether poked his head through the huge wooden double-doors of the kitchen.

"Almost dinner time, lads? Want me to fetch the others?"

"Yes, and make sure to get Papa as well, I don't care if you have to tear him away from his bloody tax returns, Sister can get fucked for once. Every time I walk past his room he's either playing video games and eating Pocket Coffees from a giant bowl or wringing his hands over a pile of paper and swearing in Italian." Mountain's brow creased in worry - Copia needed a solid meal and some companionship, this work schedule was killing him...

It was time to pour the batter for the puddings into their screaming-hot moulds. Mountain carefully distributed the liquid and then immediately shoved them in the oven to bake.

Dew was already moving the vegetables onto large platters, and pouring the gravy into the Ministry's bizarre collection of animal-shaped gravy boats. His personal favourite was the puking cat.

Mountain was left to carve the pork, quietly working the slices from the rack, the crackling sublimely crisp and shattering. He heard the scrape of a chair behind him and suddenly felt a hat being negotiated over his horns.

"Gotta look the part, hey chef?" Dew proclaimed, as he slid the chair back and stood beside him, wearing a floppy, old-fashioned chef's toque like some bizarre character from an 80s children's show. It was fucking adorable.

"Absolutely bud, only the height of professionalism around here."

The other ghouls began drifting through the doors, excitedly chatting and sniffing the air. The girls coo'd over Dew's hat while also trying to dip their fingers in the gravy boat as he fended them off with a slotted spoon. 

Aether and Papa were last, with Aether holding Papa up with an arm while he shuffled in, still wearing his little rat slippers and looking positively dreadful.

"Amici miei....my beautiful children, you are a sight for sore eyes. Sister, she is relentless, she has removed my door! I can't even, you know, ehhh..." he made sad, unenthusiastic wanking motions with his hand.

Suddenly, Copia closed his eyes as his nose began to twitch. He inhaled deeply, a flush of colour returning to his cheeks.

"Quell'aroma meraviglioso...Mountain, Dewdrop, you have outdone yourselves...my mama, she could have never..." Aether sat Papa down at the head of the table, gently tucking a napkin into his burgundy hoodie and pouring him a small glass of wine.

Dew held up his own wineglass, tapping it with his gigantic slotted spoon.

"The chef would like to say a few words..." he announced, chest puffed out again and wiggling an eyebrow at Mountain.

"Uh yeah, Aeth requested this one, so, uh, enjoy this surprisingly delicious brown food."

Everyone clapped, while Mountain's hat slid forward as he bowed. Suddenly, he bolted upright -"Fuck, the puddings!"

Without a hint of hesitation Dew jumped up and ran to the oven, pulling the pan of crispy puffs out with his bare hands. "Got 'em! Nice and golden, sneaky little fuckers."

"CAZZO! Put the fucking pan down, you're going to have terrible blisters, mamma mia!" Papa yelled while clasping his hands over his face, elicting a gasp from the other ghouls.

"Nah, I usually wear oven mitts just so the siblings don't lose their tiny minds when they realise I'm unburnable. Don't want to give them the brain scramblies, ya know?"

The ghouls uttered a collective sigh, of course a pan wasn't going to burn him. They all suddenly felt a little foolish, like they'd been living amongst humans a bit too long.

Swiss, however, looked contemplative, while shoving a hot yorkshire pud in his mouth he began, "The brain scramblies are bad news, like that time Rain dove into the lake and didn't come up for 20 minutes in front of the novices..."

Soon enough, laughter echoed through the hall. Mountain was content, his family was here enjoying the fruits of his labours, while their collective magics mingled in the warm air. Dew offered up a crinkly-eyed smile in his direction, which he returned with a nod and subtle grin.

They would all sleep well, with full bellies and comfortable dreams of warm hearths, surrounded by good friends.

[first-manchester-661]

The East Lancs Vyking is a type of double-decker bus body built by East Lancashire Coachbuilders. It is the double-deck version of the Spryte. It continued the long line of 'misspelt' names which continued until the Scania OmniDekka. It was built on the Volvo B7TL chassis. The name "Vyking" was derived from the chassis being built by a company from Sweden.

East Lancs Vyking

Yellow Buses Vyking bodied Volvo B7TL in Christchurch in 2010

Overview

Manufacturer

East Lancashire Coachbuilders

Production

2000-2006

Body and chassis

Doors

1 or 2 doors

Floor type

Low floor

Chassis

Volvo B7L

Volvo B7TL

Related

East Lancs Lolyne

East Lancs Nordic

Powertrain

Capacity

63 to 80 seated

Dimensions

Length

10,200 to 10,932mm

Width

2,535mm

Height

4,200 to 4,300mm

Chronology

Predecessor

East Lancs Pyoneer

Successor

East Lancs Olympus

Options included air conditioning, additional CCTV, bonded glazing, double glazing, driver protection, electronic destination displays, powered wheelchair ramp.[1]

[nautiscarader]

A new kind of magic - chapter 3

(Ao3)

Luz wasn't sure what Amity had on her mind, but she very quickly learned when purple goo levitated around her palms,as Amity started shaping it until it took a very familiar shape…

"Oh, that is one sexy french fry, sweet potato.", Luz gasped when Amity put the goo strap-on around her hips, and with a cocky smile leaned forward, turning the tides of dominance.

The two other couples naturally caught the shenanigans happening on the newcomers' bed and watched as Amity performed her magic on Luz. It was time forAmityto prove her strength as she grabbed her legs and spred them, only to fold them against the human's body, watching as she admires her taking the action.

Luz grabbed one of the pillows and sneaked it underneath her bum as she was properly folded in half, and gave Amity nod, allowing her to sink the magical cock inside. The room was filled with her moan,as the hard, yet plastic magical phallus filled her pussy with Amity's first rough move.

The music began anew, with rougher,faster beats, as Amity synced the movement of her hips, with Luz providing additional mewls and moans. And the sight of the two girls love making took the other two couples from their post-foreplay bliss,as the four watched Amity setting the pace,quickly becoming center of the attention.

"Mhm, that reminds me of what Tambry did once…", Wendy spoke, locking her legs around Dipper's back. "Come here, dude!"

Inspired by Amity's assertive actions, Dipper leaned forward, burying his lips between Wendy's freckled breasts, while he scrambled to position himself between her legs. But Wendy came with a helping hand, guiding his cock against the pussy he licked so thoroughly a moment later.

A low, passionate moan escaped the red-head's lips, as her lover's cockhead spread her folds, prompting her to express her desires.

"Deeper, Dipper".

Wendy let out a yelp as Dipper dived inside her, her legs automatically locking behind his back, her heels giving just the subtlest sign to keep going.

"I do like girls on top…", Hiccup muttered as Astrid rose from between his thighs, wiping her lips.

"And girls like a fine seat like yours…"

She did not wait for any invitation and positioned herself over Hiccup's cock, the droplets of her juices glazing his head, waking him back to life in seconds. Their eyes met,as he saw the familiar spark in her eyes when she pinned him to the soft bed.

"Ready to take this dragon for a ride?"

"Oh, yes!", she replied and sank onto his cock,arching her back as her hips performed first of many bounces. The hungry viking gal pressed her arms against his naked chest, welcoming his on her hips, caressing her legs and thighs that lifted her up and down, as if she really was flying and performed acrobatic stunts.

And just like those times, she was in control, dictating the speed of the wild animal underneath her, missing only the reins that could have changed Hiccup's behaviour.

Though they have started at different times, the three couples synchronised their moves, the resonance of love permeating across the room, together with six voices moaning, their volume rising as they approached their peaks.

Astrid and Amity's eyes met, as two competitive gals stayed on top of their lovers, and a moment later the witch exchanged similar looks with Wendy, encouraging her boyfriend to help her win, as she closed her legs and arms tighter around him. Astrid leaned forward, as if trying to win a race by becoming more aerodynamic; at the same time, Amity's magic made the dildo inside Luz's pussy shape shift and vibrate, ensuring that every nerve ending of her would be activated.

And it was Luz, who came first, driving Amity with her thanks to the double-ended dildo. Astrid followed soon when she collapsed on Hiccup's chest,feeling fountain of his seed erupt inside her. At the last was Wendy, skilfully prolonging her lover's orgasm that made his voice tremble when he came, her following him and his fingers.

For quite a long while, none of the couples addressed each other, filling the air with soft proclamations of love and passion. But that changed when Dipper, Wendy,Astrid and Hiccup raised their voices, feeling beds underneath them slide,until they joined the middle one when Amity released the pieces of furniture from her spell.

"You know what, I think I'm ready. I'm just wondering which lady to invite first…"

Amity shifted her stare from Wendy to Astrid, and finally to Luz, letting her decide…

[666--satan--666it]

Skylight you can Transform and Improve virtually any Space with Daylight

"Welcome to a world where natural light reigns supreme and transforms your living spaces into havens of warmth and comfort. Introducing the magical skylight – a simple yet powerful addition that can revolutionize any room, from the darkest basement to the smallest bathroom. Say goodbye to dull, dreary interiors and hello to enchanting rays of sunshine that invigorate both mind and body. Join us on an exciting journey as we explore how skylights can brighten up your life in ways you never thought possible!"

What is skylight?

One of the best ways to improve any space is by adding skylights. Skylights are a great way to let in natural light and make a room feel more open and airy. They can also help reduce energy costs by reducing the need for artificial lighting. In addition, skylights can help improve indoor air quality by providing ventilation and helping to control humidity levels.

How does skylight work?

In order to let in natural light, a skylight is placed in an existing roof or ceiling. Skylights work by admitting sunlight through a glass or plastic lens set into the roof. The light is then reflected off mirrors and diffuse panels onto the ceiling and walls of the interior space below.

The benefits of skylight

There are many benefits of skylight, including the following: -Skylights can help improve the quality of light in a space, making it brighter and more inviting. -They can also help reduce energy costs by allowing natural light to enter a space during the day and reducing the need for artificial lighting. -In addition, skylights can help improve ventilation in a space by providing fresh air and helping to circulate stale air. -Finally, skylights can simply make a space feel more open and spacious – something that is especially beneficial in small rooms or confined spaces.

How to choose the right skylight for your home

There are many factors to consider when choosing the right skylight for your home. The first is the size and shape of the window. Skylights come in a variety of shapes and sizes, so it's important to choose one that will fit the space you have available. The second factor to consider is the type of glass. There are two main types of glass used in skylights, tempered and laminated. Tempered glass is stronger and less likely to break, but it is also more expensive. Laminated glass is cheaper, but it is not as strong and may break if not installed properly. The third factor to consider is the angle of the window. Skylights can be installed at different angles, depending on how much sunlight you want to let in. The fourth factor to consider is ventilation. Some skylights come with vents that can be opened to let in fresh air or closed to keep out drafts. Others do not have vents at all. The fifth factor to consider is energy efficiency. Many skylights are now made with energy-efficient glass that helps keep your home cooler in summer and warmer in winter.

Skylight installation tips

If you’re considering adding a skylight to your home, there are a few things to keep in mind during the installation process. First, skylights should be installed on a roof that’s pitched at least 30 degrees. This will ensure that water will properly drain from the skylight. Second, it’s important to choose a quality skylight. Look for skylights with double or triple glazing and an energy-efficient seal. This will help reduce heat loss in your home and keep your utility bills low. Third, when installing the skylight, make sure the flashing is properly installed around the perimeter of the window. This will prevent water leaks. And finally, be sure to caulk around the edges of the skylight after it’s been installed to further prevent any leaks. https://therooftechnician.ca/our-services/skylights/

Conclusion

Skylights are an excellent way to bring beautiful natural light into any room. Not only do they add a sense of beauty and style, but they also save you energy and money in the long run. With so many different styles, shapes and sizes available, you can easily find one that suits your tastes while still providing enough brightness to light up your space. With skylight installation services readily available from professionals across the country, transforming a dark area with daylight is easier than ever!

[rosenongrata]

Hauteclaire — Millennia Death Waltz

OVERVIEW.

Rarity: ☆☆☆☆☆ — Weapon: Scythe — Element: Cryo

Model Type: Tall Female Birthday: Aug. 26th Constellation: Luctus Arbor (Mourning Tree) Region: Khaenri'ah (birthplace), The Abyss (former), Mondstadt (former), Liyue Affiliations: Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Special Dish: [TBA] How to Obtain: Event Wish — Between Throes of Life and Death Voice Actor: Mary Elizabeth McGlynn Additional Titles: Head Mortician Special Stat: CRIT DMG

A/N: I know her kit is overloaded AF. But live with it.

COMBAT INFO. Talents.

Normal Attack — Hell-Frozen Blade Normal Attack Perform up to 5 strikes that combine Physical and Cryo DMG.

Charged Attack Consumes a certain amount of stamina to unleash a single powerful slash.

Plunging Attack Plunges from mid-air to strike the ground below, damaging opponents along the path and dealing AoE Physical and Cryo DMG upon impact.

—

Elemental Skill — Glacial Hound Hauteclaire coalesces and summons forth a Cryo Rifthound, dealing Cryo DMG to nearby opponents.

Cryo Rifthound Follows the character around, dealing Cryo DMG and healing all nearby characters upon hit in different ways under the following circumstances: × Performs a joint attack when your active character performs Normal or Charged Attacks, dealing Cryo DMG. Can occur once every second. × Shatters at the end of its duration, dealing AoE Cryo DMG to surrounding opponents. × Healing scales off Hauteclaire’s ATK.

—

Elemental Burst — Tundra Blade Using the might of Cryo, Hauteclaire summons various weapons made of ice.

In this Stance, Hauteclaire’s Normal and Charged Attacks are converted to Cryo DMG that cannot be overridden by other elemental fusions.

Each weapon has a unique passive effect: × Bow increases Elemental Mastery by 100, × Sword increases ATK by 10%, × Polearm increases ATK SPD by 10%, and × Claymore increases Crit DMG by 10%. You can only pick one weapon for each activation.

You cannot use your Elemental Skill while in this stance.

This ability will disappear when Hauteclaire leaves the field.

———

Passives.

1st Ascension Passive — Reenergize If Hauteclaire’s own Cryo Rifthound is present and she is not on the field, she will regenerate 2 Energy for herself every second.

—

4th Ascension Passive — Cicatrix When Hauteclaire’s own Cryo Rifthound is on the field when she casts Tundra Blade, it will produce the following effects: × Refreshes the duration of the Cryo Rifthound. × Increases Hauteclaire’s Healing Bonus by a degree equivalent to 15% of her Cryo DMG Bonus for the skill’s duration.

—

Utility Passive — Alchemy of Yore When Hauteclaire crafts a potion, she has a 12% chance of obtaining double the product.

Ascensions (Total Cost.)

Mora — 420,000 World Boss — Runic Fang (x46) Shivada Jade — Sliver (x1), Fragment (x9), Chunk (x9), Gemstone (x6) Local Specialty — Glaze Lilies (x168) Enemy Drops — Fungal Spores (x18), Luminescent Pollen (x30), Crystalline Cyst Dust (x36)

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Talent Upgrades (Total Cost.)

Mora — 1,652,500 Enemy Drops — Fungal Spores (x6), Luminescent Pollen (x22), Crystalline Cyst Dust (x31) Talent Books — Teachings of Freedom (x3), Guide to Freedom (x21), Philosophies of Freedom (x38) Weekly Boss — Tusk of Monoceros Caeli (x6) Crown of Insight (x3)