#h: berets

[clone-futon]

I just have to do it, their new outfit look so dashing

[floorpancakes]

gotta free this loser from wip jail

[moonlightcycle571]

Rock of Eternity Getting Offerings because they deserve it

I like to think that whenever there’s a magical artifact that needs containment, Billy just… takes it. Here is how it started.

Billy, after defeating an evil wizard: so… what do I do with the Staff???

Solomon: it cannot be kept in the world of man, it’s far to dangerous. You must destr-

Achilles: NEW LAMP

Hemrmes: YESSSSSSSS

Hercules: WAR TROPHY

Solomon: that is highly irresponsible, we cannot keep highly volatile objects for ‘the aesthetic’

Zeus: the burning violon

Solomon:

Solomon: well some decor never hurt anyone.

*and*

JL, after a long battle: Finally the foe has been vanquished! Now to find a secure place to stor-

Marvel, yoinks it and yeets it in a portal: done

Everyone present: w h a t

*or*

Amanda Waller: -thus the proof we need to detain you for breaking into secure government location and theft of a classified artifact

Marvel: *points to the screen* that’s not me

Waller: that’s litterally you in a French beret and a fake mustach

Marvel: I don’t know who that is, but they do look dashingly handsome. And look like a Gustavo. Probably a French mime who failed mime class and left on a journey of self discovery.

Waller: you can’t be serious

Captain Atom, fuck the government rn: I don’t know, Cap doesn’t have a mustach

Batman: the mime theory seems like a pretty sold theory to me

Several people (heroes, civilians, villains and all in between) telling Cap was with them as the time at the crime, each of them being vastly different.

Waller: this mf secretly a mass manipulator???

*or*

Cap, fighting in a museum:

Hermès: Ooh I know this pendant. Super magical, super cool.

Cap, on instinct, puts in pocket dimension to put it on the Rock:

Flash: … did I witness a theft????

Wether the pendant was actually magic or just a shiny jewel Hermes wanted is up for interpretation.

Anyways that’s how whenever he finds magical artefacts or books or whatnot, he just puts them in the Rock of Eternity. It’s a logical solution, as it serves as a place to safeguard and examine, and maybe purify some objects to use later.

The Wizard is so done. It started off as ‘dangerous artefacts to be relocated when a suitable place is found’ but then it became the go to storage and all the stuff just stays.

Thé Rock in the other hand, loves it. Getting more and more offerings by their new champion really shows how loved they are. It’s has been way too long since they got any offerings and new additions, so the newest champion giving them plenty of nourishment / stimulation is as if they are being spoiled.

Billy, brings an ancient cursed crown:

Wizard: another one???

Rock, already pushing Wizard aside: FOR ME!!!! TYTYTYYTY OH MY ME YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK SO CUTE WOTH THIS HOLD ONE LET ME JUST REPLACE THE MAGOC WOTH MINE

Five hours later Billy is chilling in one of the thrones with his new crown and one of his magic cape to match.

In conclusion, Billy is like a cat bringing a mouse in the house, except the mouse is actually a rubix cube that sometimes turns into sushi.

Yes Billy did bring a magic rubix cube that makes sushi when completed. Now I kinda want sushi ngl

[djarrex]

submerged

Steb x f!reader

read on ao3 (more warnings and notes here too) | masterlist

Steb comes home after a long day and the two of you take a nice soak in the tub.

a/n: I don't recall buying the ticket but I hopped on the Steb train real fast - anyway, here we are. smut. +18 only. about 2.9k words.

After being on shift all day, Steb enters your home and walks toward you, peeling off his beret and setting it down on the counter. His duffle bag slides off his shoulders and plops unceremoniously to the floor, and just like always, he greets you with a kiss while wrapped in his arms.

“I've filled the tub.” You tilt your head to the side, and he hums in acknowledgement. One of Steb’s favorite ways to decompress after a shift is to take a nice soak, to sit relaxed while temperate waters work to rehydrate and regulate himself. His appreciation is displayed with how his features soften at the sight of you, the longer, drawn-out and thoughtful hum he emits.

“Hungry?” you ask sweetly enough, your hands delicately running from his exposed neck down the thick uniform fabric and metal accents covering his arms. Your hands find his gloved ones, intertwining your fingers. You feel him start to melt into it. “I can start on dinner while you soak for a bit. Recharge.”

You go to pull away, but Steb’s fingers tighten around yours. You raise a curious brow, but your impending inquiry dies on your tongue once you register the look in his icy eyes followed by the subtle nudge of his head toward the direction of the bathroom. 

Join me. 

A knowing smile forms on his lips upon your wordless understanding. You peck him on the lips, and squeeze his hand tighter. 

Steb guides you into the bathroom. The two of you begin to shed each other of your clothing, working at buttons and fastenings, peeling off a layer at a time. As more layers are removed until he's standing bare in front of you, you shamelessly ogle at him. The sight of his body never fails to make your heart skip a beat. Fins and wispy frills protrude from the blue-green hues that color his skin. Stripes of darker shades stretch from his brows and disappear beneath thick, slicked back hair of a heavier shade of teal; the same patterns crawl down the back of his neck, his thighs and abdomen, while symmetrical blotches of scales pepper the planes of his biceps and down his forearms.

You trace a finger along his lithe abdomen, the thinnest sheen of film barely collecting underneath your nail. Your palm rests between his pectorals and Steb’s chest vibrates at your touch, the short, fanned frills above his cheekbones flickering rhythmically.

You pause to dip your hand in the water, gauging its temperature. It's still pleasantly warm, not too overbearing for Steb. 

“Long day?”

His ears flicker backward and his eyelids blink slowly as he gazes at you, offering a telling dip of his head and twist of his lips. You can feel just how dry his skin is compared to normal, but along with that, the invisible yet imposing weight sits on his shoulders, bending his spine in an almost slumped way, contrast to his usual well-kept posture. Steb works so hard, cares so hard, and even though the war ended, things are still taking a toll on him. 

Reassuring him with a smile, you cup his chin and run the pad of your thumb just below his pout, playfully pulling down his bottom lip. “Let’s get you into the tub, handsome.”

Steb’s eyes light up at the praise, then his pupils darken among the sea of glacier blue just as quickly. You take his hand and walk with him to the edge of the elongated basin, and being the gentleman that he is, Steb guides you into the water first. You scoot away from the wall of it, leaving room as he takes his place behind you. His long legs stretch out as much as they can on either side of you–leaving just a slight bend in his knees–his hands pulling at your shoulders to urge you backward. Your head rests against his shoulder, your nose inhaling his natural scent of what you always describe to him as the earthy undertones of lush vegetation growing along a riverbank.

“Better?” you ask him with a tilt of your head upward to see his face. Steb looks down at you with a content, calming gaze, and you get lost in the subtle ombre of orange and pink that colors his external eyelids and the contours of his nasal bridge. He clocks your lingering stare, and huffs a chuckle. 

Your hands find themselves running up and down his thighs, pushing into the muscles to ease some tension. The massage elicits a low dragging hum, and you continue, pressing yourself even further back into him to reach higher up near his hips.

Steb wants to return the favor. He always does.

His skilled, precise hands work at your shoulders just before they curve up to your neck, kneading your muscles with the right amount of pressure to make you reciprocate with a similar sound of your own. Medically trained, Steb knows exactly what spots to hit and how hard to hit them.

“That feels so good.”

He hums, and then his hands are moving again – palms now cupping your breasts. Nimble fingers swipe across your pebbled nipples and an unmistakable heat rushes to your core. As he's touching you, you don’t miss the awakening twitch of his cock against your lower back, the feel of the bulbous head curiously poking at you. You bite your lip, looking up to see his reaction; a contrasting rosy tint has since grown across his cheeks and his lips have parted ever so slightly. 

You scoot up just a tad so you can twist your body to face him at an angle, just enough to where you can slide your hand down his tensing abdomen below the water line to grasp at his hardening cock. Always cautious at first with his sensitivity, you watch as the short, delicate frills lining the underside flicker with your touch through the ripples of the water. Steb releases a soft groan from deep in his throat when you close your hand around him and give a few experimental pumps, relishing the way he feels within your palm. When you start to grip a little harder and move a little quicker, his head falls back against the edge of the tub with a comical ‘thud’, and the both of you let out a simultaneous huff of laughter. 

Once he's throbbing and starting to pant, Steb pauses your ministrations with a gentle grasp of your wrist, his eyes signaling what he really wants with a devastatingly soft yet lustful stare. His thumb absently traces the skin on your wrist.

“Is this what you're needing, handsome?”

Normally this look in his eyes–determined with a haze of lust–says enough, but his lips find your ear, the plush of them parting.

“Need you.”

His voice, slightly raspy with what could be explained as disuse or desire–or a pleasant blend of both–never fails to thrill you in the most inexplicable ways. You savor hearing that rich, velvety sound of him formulating his thoughts into words, rare as it may be.

“Have me, Steb. I'm yours.”

You fully turn around to meet him face to face, with his blissfully lustful gaze watching your every move: When you allow him the space to adjust so you're straddling his thighs, and when you take his cock in your hand as you lift yourself with the help of your other hand on his shoulder. He always wants to watch your face as he enters you; it's a high that strokes his kempt ego, knowing he's the one to get you to make those pretty expressions and devastatingly sexy sounds.

Pumping his cock slowly with his natural lubrication sliding under your palm, you recall the time when you'd found out just how heightened Steb's senses can become when he's operating in wetter conditions, whether it's being on shift in the rainfall on an overcast day, or taking a quick reset in the shower. Sharper hearing, crisper eyesight. The way his body reacted to physical touch within this very tub now has a debauched idea popping into your mind. You're intrigued. How much better would sex be for him in water?

Since you’ve been paused in thought, a question mark etches its way onto his expression. Adorable, you mentally note. A sultry smirk pulls at your lips. His cock still in your hand, swollen and leaking from just above the water line, you tease the darkened head with a swipe of your finger along the slit. Steb shivers.

“How long was it that you could stay underwater?”

Eyes blowing wide, he nods eagerly. Adorable, again. If there ever was an inkling of apprehension on his end, it’s unabashedly tossed to the wind. Steb understands exactly what you’re suggesting, and hastily moves toward the center of the tub. He immerses himself into the water, his knees bent behind you. All of the gills on his upper body submerged, you finally lower yourself onto his cock and moan at how he totally fills you. It takes a moment or two, but once you get accustomed to the feeling of him inside of you again, you start to ride him in earnest. You rest your hands on his chest, using his sturdy body to keep up your momentum and effectively keeping him pinned to the bottom of the tub. His crystal eyes are piercing through the rippling water, carefully watching your expressions as you use his body to keep yourself moving, the water softly splashing around you and threatening to spill over the edge. 

Briefly slowing your motions, you remove a palm from his chest to delicately grasp at his chin, a tender gesture that the both of you know well. 

Is this okay? 

Steb takes his hand and encircles your wrist with those deft fingers, bringing it up to rest just above the gills on his jawline and nuzzles into your palm. Tiny air bubbles pop silently on the surface. His eyelids briefly shut. 

I’m fine – feels so good like this – keep going.

He releases your hand then, instead running his own up and down your thighs. You keep your eyes on him as you focus on your angle, aiming to hit that spot that makes you see stars. Steb is beautiful already, but something about the way he looks under the water – skin glistening with an almost luminescent quality, his frills and hair flowing freely, the mesmerizing way his gills pulsate with breaths –  you're fixated.

His freshly-hydrated skin feels all the more smooth against your own, but slippery as well. You start to struggle with keeping yourself perfectly balanced, and when you meet his groin on every downward thrust, you begin gyrating from side to side. Sensing the struggle, Steb taps your wrist and you allow him to emerge from the bottom, water sloshing messily and actually pouring over the edge of the tub. While his head turns to the side to assess the mess, droplets of water trickle tantalizingly down the cords of his neck and chest until they rejoin the source at the waterline at his abdomen.

“Was that okay?”

He looks back at you. Nodding, Steb’s eyes crinkle with a smile. His cock still blissfully impaling you, you're pulled flush against him. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The throbbing deep inside your cunt has you wiggling impatiently, earning you a coy chuckle punctuated by him recapturing your lips for a deep kiss.

He grunts against your lips at that.

“Needy,” he notes, a playful smile curving his own. Before you can protest, Steb jerks his hips, and soon he's moving his body with yours in a crazed dance. His hands run up and down your back, pausing every so often to hold you impossibly closer as you rock into one another, the feeling of his rough fingertips surely leaving imprints in your skin. 

The weight of his breaths–ones that carry whispers of pleasure–tumble down your throat. Your fingers move to brush back his dampened hair, nails scratching his scalp. Every little touch you grace him with, pulls hurt noises and whimpers within the confines of his throat, and you want to hear them over and over again – intoxicated. Leaving his scalp, your fingers continue along the base of his skull, ghosting above the short fins that start to protrude there, and then you move down his neck and back, careful to not roughly scratch the ones that line the length of his spine. The almost liquidy, viscous groan that Steb lets out in response makes you clench around his cock, and just like that, you feel him throb deep inside of you with his release, panting heavily, his body twitching within your arms in the aftermath. 

Steb holds you for a moment longer before untangling his slippery limbs from yours. It takes only seconds for him to scoot you back against the opposite wall of the tub, part your thighs, and easily slip two fingers into your cunt. It isn’t long before he curls them, thrusting his long digits rapidly and determined. 

Your hand smacks against the lip of the tub, and the other quickly darts to grab at his hair.

“Sh-Shit – Steb…”

A cocky smirk and a grunt to match – ears twitching. He feels inebriated when you speak his name in such a way, and it gives him the extra push to work quicker, harder, until you’re a blubbering mess. The water splashes around where his wrist continuously plunges with his motions. The corded muscles in his forearm bulge with exertion. You’re weightless sitting in this tub but every muscle is tense and every nerve feels like a fraying thread. You watch, transfixed, on how his fingers draw in and out of your cunt beneath the water line until you can’t. It’s too much but oddly not even close to being enough. You want to reach that peak. It’s close – you’re close. Your head lulls with the rush of blood and adrenaline, tipping backward.

Steb won’t have that, though.

Suddenly he pulls his fingers from you and out from the water, instead grasping your chin to angle your head back upright. The look in his eyes has a slight bite but lacks any venom – yet you’re instantly sobered all the same. There’s a slight flutter in your core at this side of him. Sometimes even your quiet, caring, selfless Steb can take charge.

Your chin is released once your undivided attention is back on him. The shape of a V made with his index and middle fingers taps once, twice just below his eyes, and the frills on his face flutter in time. The wordless command is one you understand implicitly. 

Eyes on me.

You nod, loyal, eager to revisit where your body was heading before. “Please.”

A softer haze fills the look in his eyes then, satisfied with your compliance as much as it is charming. Even after taking you like this, claiming you with fervor, Steb is still the sweet, gentle man you’ve grown extremely fond of. Your pride swells knowing that you’re the only one to see him, to understand him in ways far beyond what meets the eye. Gratitude swells in your chest. You want to kiss him.

The moment is over when his fingers stuff back into your cunt.

The same devastating pace at which he finger fucks you quickly brings you back to where you wanted to be, just moments before finally tipping over. Only now, you’re looking right at his face, at the way his frills flutter and how his ears involuntarily twitch in response to every sound you make as he focuses solely on the way you’re feeling. His warm yet icy eyes are glued to your own, and somehow meeting them is more lethal than you can anticipate. 

“I’m close–”

Steb leans toward you. You think he’s going to kiss you, to tangle his tongue with yours in an intimate gesture that is like a soothing balm through it all, but–

“Come.”

You were wrong: Hearing Steb’s gruff voice tell you–no, command you–was the most lethal weapon that sent white-hot pleasure searing through every fiber of your being, not just tipping you but launching you over the edge, sending you soaring through your climax. A high-pitched whine tears itself from your throat, pruned toes curling with it. Steb does lean in to kiss you then, doing exactly what you had thought he was going to do before, only moments later. His fingers move slower as you writhe and clench around them. You continuously hum into him, an evident smile shaping his lips.

Everything after that is a blur. At some point, Steb guided you out of the tub, carefully, because the water that had spilt on the floor had been clocked as a safety hazard, somewhere in the throes of it all. You were wrapped in a towel, Steb on his knees as he dried you off with reverence – then carried to bed, clothed with an extra undershirt of his and buried beneath a blanket right beside him. 

Steb adjusts and turns to face you. He runs the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible but you know the shape of the word well.

[lambsixtysix]

PEISKOS...

⋆ rollo flamme x baker!reader ⋆

word count : 2k+ ⋆₊˚⊹

You wait outside his chambers expectantly, silently praying that he'd soon acknowledge your presence with some sort of rude remark directed towards you. You didn't come all this way for nothing, trudging through the halls of Nobel Bell College in the dead of night, knowing well of the consequences of trespassing on such prestigious grounds.

With as much care as you could, your knuckles rap gently against the carvings in the door. You hoped that the baked goods you had tucked away in your basket were still warm. You'd rather them be warm and fresh than stale and cold.

Only the best for Nobel Bell's student council president, Rollo Flamme.

Hearing the soft knock on his door meant one of two things for Rollo. Either someone has broken the carefully set rules he had in place in order to honor the sanctity of the bells of the college, or it meant your arrival at his door.

A part of him wished it was you, but he tampered those feelings down as soon as they came.

Rollo could not, would not risk his reputation over some baker's child. Even if his deep set eyes lingered on the dark wood of his door when you left. The knocks become more incessant as he sits there, his grip on his pen tightening just enough to make ink bleed through his page. Rollo clenches his jaw to say something, but for some reason, he can't think of anything harsh to say.

“The door is open. You may come in.”

Rollo's voice is just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the crackling fireplace, quiet yet still holding that authoritative tone many looked up to him with. The door opens, and he's met with you carrying a wicker basket under your arm, red gingham print cloth sticking out of the lid, reminding him of your parent's bakery. Fittingly named The Little Sophia, after one of the many bells at the college.

The day he met you changed the way he looked at the same vices he chastised others for.

Rollo was never one for sweets. He believed that eating frugally helped him stay on the righteous path set before him. He thought that by not swaying from his familiarity of eating the same meals at the same time by himself, he was on the true path of righteousness.

That was until he met you.

The baker's eldest, doing your daily chores right inside of the bakery window. The contentment in your smile as if inviting him inside for a look himself. Like a pastry on display, you looked sweet enough to taste.

Your eyes seemed to light up in recognition of him, particularly at his uniform. The dark colors and maroon ribbon hanging from his large beret seemingly connecting the blanks in your brain to invite him inside.

The sun caught in the roots of your hair as you opened the door, the soft morning light of the city forming a halo around your features.

“Good morning, come in!”

You greet him with a warm smile, the little bell above the door ringing softly.

One thing led to another, and Rollo left the small, unassuming bakery with a small paper bag of pastries you recommended based on what was currently selling and your own personal tastes and feelings. How he kept his cool as you guided him around the shop was incomprehensible to him, handkerchief held to his face to hide the fact that he was blushing as you held onto his sleeve. Usually, he'd fray away from such touches, but for some reason, he welcomed yours. Even if it was only his sleeve, just one touch from you was enough to make him come back to the shop more frequently.

He swore you must've used some sort of charm on him. Some sort of spell.

Why else would he be thinking about you while staring like a crazed man at his fireplace?

His growing feelings for you conflicted within him like a raging fire as he watched you place the basket down, unrolling the gingham printed fabric to tastefully place each pre-packaged sweet treat down on his table.

“I see you still have an eye for the aesthetics even outside of the bakery.” He comments, voice neutral as he watches you.

He raises his hand to fix his sleeve, his pointer and forefinger going to his ring. “Of course, my family has a reputation to uphold.” you reply back, tone light and cheery. “What have you brought me this time around?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from your deft hands to look at your face.

“Oh, the usual.” The way you danced around his question made him want to laugh. Rollo covers the space between his nose and upper lift with his hand, the quickest thing he could think of at that moment. He mentally reprimands himself for not using his handkerchief, which was right beside the wicker basket you just brought in.

He raises a brow when you pull out a thermos of sorts, adorned with your family's logo as if it were a crest. “The usual, hm? What is..this?”

He gestures vaguely to the thermos you were unscrewing, wondering if you were planning on poisoning him for going against his own rules. Your own form of judgment, maybe. He surely was a hypocrite. He deserved to be punished for indulging in such vices.

Being poisoned by your hand would be an amusing end for him.

He voices his thoughts out loud, sprinkling a bit of his own humor with a silent chuckle. “You're not attempting to poison me, are you?” He asks, slowly grabbing his handkerchief and putting it to his face to hide his expression once again.

“Me? Poison you?”

He hears you repeat, as if you didn't hear him right. You smile as you twist the cap off of the thermos, shaking your head.

“I would never.” You say, pouring out whatever you had inside the thermos into the cap. “You don't mind, do you?” You ask, placing the bottle down onto the desk with a soft metal clunk.

“Mind what?” He asks back, handkerchief still to the point of his nose.

“Me pouring you a drink, of course.”

You gesture vaguely to what was in front of him, a silver colored thermos with faint scratches on its bottom. Marks of merit, of use, of being well worn. Loved. Oh, what Rollo would do to be loved by you. Maybe, if he had the courage, he'd tell you how he truly felt.

“And why would I mind such a thing?” he asks again, tone incredulous. “Would you rather have your drink in a glass of your own instead?” You ask back, smiling at the back and forth between you and him.

Seeing the look of amusement on your face makes Rollo set down his star patterned handkerchief.

He has a faint smile on his face once he realizes what you're doing. To the common eye, it looked like he was irritated. But in your months of knowing him, behind closed doors, in the flames of his dying hearth, you knew there was something more behind the slight tug of his cheeks.

Rollo puts a ringed finger to the corner of his brow, tilting his head in a negative sort of manner. He tries to look annoyed as he sighs. “Must you dance around my questions, dear baker?” he queries, attempting to sound exasperated by your play.

“Grab me a glass. Second shelf, oak drawer.” he says, expecting you to do it without question.

He knew he was playing a dangerous game, allowing himself to talk to you like this. He caught a glimpse of the grin on your lips when you turned. Rollo watched as you danced across the room, the grace you carried yourself with as you reached for a glass inside the hollow of the oak drawer as he requested.

“You have a penchant for silver.” He hears you comment, sounding as though you were making an observation of his habits. Rollo doesn't know what to make of that, so he keeps quiet, not used to you being in his study for this long. Usually, you'd leave by now, happy with your pay like a dog given its bone.

“Quit stalling and bring me my glass.” He demands, though there is a barely detectable softness in his voice as he speaks. “Hurry along now. You want your pay, don't you?”

All this labor for nothing but for a few solid coins. He wonders if you think what you're doing is charitable. Even if he was paying you for your work.

Perhaps you felt bad for him. Maybe that's why you kept up with his demands of powdered sugar desserts and sweets.

You come back to his desk with a silver cup, placing it down next to the thermos you brought from the bakery. You pour him a drink. “It's getting cold now, isn't it?”

You try to make conversation as you plop a spoon in with a push of your fingers, as if you were putting on some sort of performative art for him alone.

Rollo slips a few coins for you, placing them in your basket. “I suppose so.” He replies, watching as you slide the drink to him. His fingers make contact with yours in the exchange. And, for a moment, Rollo felt that same sparking sensation he had on his skin he first felt when meeting you.

He watches quietly as you pull away, beginning to gather your things for the night.

A silent signal of your work being done, another successful night of serving the student council president, Rollo Flamme.

“I've prepared you hot chocolate to go along with your food for the night. Do tell me what you think of it later.”

Rollo's met with the sight of your back turned to him again.

Though, this time, he doesn't want you to leave.

His voice cuts through the air, with a slight falter of his breath.

“Wait. Don't go. Not yet.”

He was slipping.

And by the bells, he knew he was falling. Deeper and deeper into his feelings for you.

He covers his nose with his handkerchief. Rollo catches himself quickly once you turn back around to meet his gaze, basket held under your arm, a curious look in your eyes.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, already walking towards his desk. Rollo can feel his heartbeat spike in his chest with every step you take. He did not know what to make of the foreign feeling in his chest.

So he pretends to keep his head on his shoulders, the blush that spreads from the apples of his cheeks to his neck hidden behind the cloth he held onto.

“No, nothing's wrong.” He answers, mixing the spoon in the cup you just poured his drink into. He tries to collect his thoughts and think of the next move of action for him to do.

Once you're a reasonable distance away from his desk, Rollo finally calms down. His heart rate settles, and the color in his cheeks fades.

Oh, if only you knew what you did to him. Rollo takes a breath.

With one languid movement of his sleeve, he lets go of the spoon, the intricacies of the silverware highlighted and shimmering in the light of the fire.

His eyes meet yours, the legs of his chair digging into the carpeted floor as he stands, cape billowing behind him. “What is it that you seek from me in return, hm?” Rollo studies you with jaded eyes, searching your features for any sort of falter. “I can offer you many things, though I don't think many will match your expertise in pastry making.”

Rollo's finger drags along the dark oak of his study table, his finger and thumb pinch together as if assessing the table's cleanliness.

“Tell me, dear baker. What is your wish?”

Rollo's hand runs along the table until he's in front of you. His hand now clasped in front of his robe, cupped in the other as his shoulders square.

“To see you enjoy my pastries.”You reply.

He stares into your guileless eyes as you respond. The simplicity in it makes the look of disdain on his face soften ever so slightly. It almost makes him bite down a laugh at how simple your words were.

He swiftly covers the change in his expression with his handkerchief, brows furrowed to express his emotion for him. “Such an innocent response. Very well then, if that is your wish.” He comments, Rollo's imposing air making his words and stature more grand than they seemed.

The air in the room seemed to stand still as he decided whether to indulge in your request or not. Everything in him was telling him not to, his brain was screaming at him to tell you to leave. To go until next time he needed you again.

He surely was a fool, wasn't he?

Telling you to stay in one moment and mentally decide if you should leave in the next. What a fool he was.

For once, he listens to his heart. He honestly didn't think he still had it in him to do such a thing. All the intimidation and authority in him seems to melt away like the sugar you used in your baking.

“Sit with me, dear baker.” He says, his tone softening when he says his title for you. He hopes you don't notice the hint of possessiveness behind it.

Though, a part of Rollo hopes that you do. Even if you didn't realize his feelings for you, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him.

Neatly, he folds his handkerchief back into his pocket.

“Let us eat.” He says. He hesitates to say his next words, but he does anyway.

“Let us enjoy your food..together.” He adds, plastic packaging crinkles underneath his hand when he extends his arm to offer you a pastry.

Rollo attempts to smile as he offers the pastry as some sort of token for your affection.

For now, this was the best he could do. He was trying, all for you. Only you.

Only you, his dear baker.

⋆ fun fact , peiskos is a Norwegian word used to describe the sensation of being in front of a warm fire !! ⋆

[nyc-looks]

Jessi, 44

“I’m wearing an antique quilt jacket from Feur De Flea in Louisville, KY, vintage Evan-Picone pants, vintage Camper boots, vintage beret, and a secondhand H&M blouse. I love color, and mixing patterns and textures in a whimsical way. If it makes me smile, I notice others tend to smile as well. If I’m going to a party with lots of strangers, I tend to wear something that could be an icebreaker. Plus, I try to find everything secondhand! Then I’m more likely to be able to afford it.”

Apr 27, 2023 ∙ Dumbo

[thepunkranger]

Hi yes this is your reminder that I am Gay and the women in Resident Evil are almost all pure perfection in their own ways and it’s truly impossible for me to pick a favorite

Exhibit A: Jill Valentine. The OG. Truly a testament to the fact that Strong Female Characters can be done well and stand the test of time. Jill started her life in a full shirt, pants, shoulder pads, and a jaunty beret and only gets more iconic from there. An action hero among action heroes

Exhibit B: Rebecca Chambers. MY FUCKING WIFE. Rebecca Chambers is 5’3”, 95lbs, with an IQ in the stratosphere and the ability to wield heavy artillery. My girl faced the demons and came out the other side with a thumbs up. Truly iconic

Exhibit C: FUCKING CLAIRE REDFIELD. Beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. Show stopping. Badass. Has the best outfit of any RE girl, and that is seriously saying something. Cares for everyone but especially lost children. Rides a motorcycle and totes around a grenade launcher like it’s nothing. A civilian with 0 combat experience who made it out of a zombie outbreak unscathed with a little girl in tow

Exhibit D: Ada Wong. Fucking celestial goddess. Like a goddamned painting. One of the best anti-heroes I’ve ever encountered. Sexy as hell while also not being a one-dimensional femme fatale. Does shit in heels and a cocktail that should be physically impossible. Has the mentality of an outdoor cat. Also a crossbow

Exhibit E: Ashley Graham. A perfect example of a character needing saving but not being annoying or useless. Ashley’s character development in the RE4 remake is some fantastic writing and the whole scene with her and the wrecking ball is truly amazing

Exhibit F: Sheva goddamned Alomar. Poor girl gets the short end of the stick for being a partner character in 5, but she’s another 10/10. Strong. Gorgeous. Smart. Empathetic. Unbreakable. Also I’m pretty sure the first RE protagonist to canonically have a tattoo? Fantastic

Exhibit G: Sherry motherfucking Birkin. I don’t understand how Sherry Birkin is a functional adult but I am so glad that she is because she’s fucking amazing in RE6. Takes down a zombie soldier with a cattle prod. Claire would be so proud

Exhibit H: Zoe Baker. Poor girl has monster parents and fucking Jigsaw for a brother and all she wants is for people to help her as much as she helps them. Super smart and ready to brawl at a moment’s notice. And also I love her thick-ass southern accent

Exhibit I: Lady Dimetrescue. What can I say about Lady D that hasn’t already been said? She’s almost 10 feet tall. She has tits the size of genetically engineered watermelons and an ass to match. She dresses like the classiest of ladies. She makes wine from the blood of maidens. She eats men. And she literally turns into a giant crystal dragon. Truly a masterpiece

[charlottecherries]

HTBBW- Dress to impress

Blair’s style encapsulates class and elegance with timeless pieces

Embrace tailored garments, such as fitted blazers, dresses and skirts to achieve a feminine silhouette

Opt for luxurious fabrics like tweed, cashmere, and silk

Accessorise with statement pieces, such as eye catching necklaces, vintage broaches, sunglasses, hats, and headbands

Create a signature colour pallet that matches your skin tone, as well as wearing refined neutrals like camel, ivory, and taupe to achive a sophisticated look

Have some bold statement pieces and mix and match colours

The Blair Essentials

Plaid, tweed, blouses, sweater vests, coats, cardigans, nightgowns, tights-coloured and/or patterned-, berets, ballet flats, classy heels, headbands, belts, bows, bright colours, ruffles, lace, florals, pearls, matching bags, statement coats

Shopping

Some of my favorite places to buy Blair inspired clothes

H & M, Zara, Superdry, Pull and Bear, Hollister, Brandy Melville, M & S

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[brahmsthirdracket]

another little fic from bits of ancient and unfinished google docs - baby lando and max f

2008 

“Hey bug,” Jon doesn’t need to look up from where he’s holding Oli’s kart steady to sense Lando’s presence, “You okay?”

Lando’s quiet for long enough that Jon does look up then, takes in his small, damp figure, the way he’s fiddling with the zip on his jacket.

Jon straightens up.

“You didn’t wanna hang out with those kids?” He can see them through the driving rain on the other side of the car park, roughhousing under one of the other marquees. 

Lando shakes his head, leans his whole body against Jon’s in an unspoken request for comfort. Jon pulls him in for a cuddle.

“Well you can help me then, yeah? Teach me how to be a mechanic?”

He doesn’t let go until he feels a nod against his chest, and Lando blinks up at him with a weak smile.

For all that Lando follows Jon around like a lost puppy in the garage, once he’s pulled his helmet on, it’s all business. Jon’s not sure he’ll ever get used to how fucking good the kid is. 

On the ferry back to Portsmouth Lando trots after Jon out onto the wet, windy deck instead of whacking the buttons on the fruit machines in the lounge with the other kids. 

The deck is practically deserted this time of year, the other passengers taking refuge in cheap pints and chips laced in salt and vinegar. 

They huddle into their raincoats and lean against the railing. Lando’s got the little green frog sporting a striped Breton shirt and beret that had Jon fished out of the bargain bin in the onboard duty free and shoved over the counter with a Snickers and pack of smokes. Lando’s whole face had scrunched up in surprised joy when Jon handed it to him with a Nice work this weekend.

He watches now as Lando gives it a little kiss and tucks it carefully down the front of his raincoat with its froggy face sticking up over the zip. It’s strange, Jon supposes, an adored child of a multimillionaire, in raptures over a cheap toy.

They lean against the railing in companionable silence, content to let the thrum of the ship’s engine and the fine mist of drizzle wash over them.

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you be with me forever?”

Jon looks down at him, at his sweet, earnest face, half-hidden by his hood and the frog. His eyes are the same colour as the churning sea and sky.

Jon, shrugs, doesn’t say Until I get a better job than performance coaching nine-year olds. 

“S’long as you need me, bug.”  

“Cool,” says Lando. He turns his face up into the rain and closes his eyes. “We’re gonna win a World Championship then.”

2009 

True to his word, Jon drives down to Glastonbury for the first weekend of the offseason. He sets off while it’s still dark; stops for fuel and bitter, petrol-station coffee that he downs in two, burning gulps somewhere near Dudley, and turns off the M5 just as the sun is coming up over the rolling Somerset hills. 

It’s only been a month or so since he last saw Lando, but it still feels like something’s shifted since Jon started uni. He wonders, again, if he’s out of mind for agreeing to this, agreeing to miss out on Friday nights at the SU and lazy, hungover mornings with bacon sandwiches and embarrassing pictures. The friendships he’s made still feel new, tentative and he knows that none of them understand why he’s missing parties and intramural football to babysit some kid at karting races. 

He doesn’t say that he could work at Spoons and JD and do the night shift at fucking Asda and he still wouldn’t make the money Adam’s offering him to do this. 

He also doesn’t say that it’s not some kid, it’s Lando and he’s going to win a World Championship someday. 

The last few miles through the patchwork green Somerset countryside, the dew still glistening in the patchwork fields and the spires of sleepy villages, somehow feel like coming home. 

The gravel crunches under his wheels as he turns down the wide, poplar-lined driveway. His mum’s Kia feels small and grubby parked next to a Range Rover with brand-new ‘09 plates. He’s half-in, half-out, hastily shovelling the accumulated debris of protein shake bottles, t-shirts and overdue library books onto the backseat, when something small careers into him from behind. 

“Jon!” Lando squeals, vibrating with anticipation and probably sugary cereal. “I missed you!” He’s run out into the driveway barefoot in what must be his little sister’s dressing gown.

“Me too, bug,” Jon says, scooping him up easily. Lando winds his arms around Jon’s neck and keeps up a constant stream of chatter in his ear. 

The kitchen is as warm and noisy as Jon remembers. He sets Lando down onto a countertop, so he can shake hands with his parents. He gives his sisters high-fives and Oli a fist bump; drops down to scratch the elderly retriever behind the ears.

Over tea, toast and scrambled eggs from the family chickens, Adam spreads out a meticulous printed calendar across the table. 

Lando wedges himself in between them, puts his elbow in the butter dish and beams at Jon. 

“You’re gonna be here like, every weekend. How cool is that?”

They talk logistics for most of the morning: new season regulations, upgrades, race calendars and training schedules. Jon’s not sure if he feels sorry for Lando and Oli or envious. It’s not much of a childhood, but perhaps if he’d spent more time doing interval training as a 12 year old, and less time watching Top Gear reruns and eating Monster Munch, he’d be doing something better with his life.

They don’t seem any the worse for it. They show Jon the new Scalextric set up in their playroom and Oli roundly thrashes him at Guitar Hero. 

Lando for his part, provides a running stream of helpful commentary from the arm of the sofa: “You’re like, okay, Jon, well actually you’re kind of slow but you’re trying so hard!”, until Jon decides that Adam is probably paying him for more than Wii golf and drags them both up onto the hills for a bike ride. 

2010

RFM brings a gruelling European schedule, a truly obscene technical and logistical setup and the stocky, baby-faced son of two stockbrokers who’d apparently dominated the Asian circuits. Max is the same age as Lando, curly-haired and just as weird.  

Max is also very good. 

Jon watches them make shy eyes at each other from across the garage for the best part of a morning before he loses patience. 

“Go and play with him,” he tells Lando, who’s making a nuisance of himself under Jon’s feet, and sends him off in Max’s direction with a gentle shove and a football he has no idea what to do with. 

Max turns out to be steady and gentle foil to Lando’s jittery hyperactivity, and by the time they arrive at Genk for the first race of the season, they’ve sporting Lando Norris friendship stickers on their helmets and Jon has to make actual conversation with adults. 

Inseparable as they are, it’s easier than not for Jon to take Max under his wing as well: to get them racing up and down the tiny hotel pools and endless corridors, to wrangle them under a single big umbrella during rain delays, to tuck them into bed together with Wallace and Gromit on Max’s portable DVD player.

“Night, half pints,” Jon murmurs when he comes in to turn off the light. They’re already fast asleep, little hands entwined on top of the covers.

[ghostlyviolets33]

Hi, first of all I love your blog<3 The way you portray Violet's style and hobbies is so accurate!

Secondly, what accessories do you think Violet would wear (What type)? I'm talking about hair accessories, jewelry etc.

Hope you have a great day!

That is the biggest compliment <33! Thank you so so much :)

Here's a quick list of accessories Violet wore throughout the show:

fedora / porkpie hats.

pearl bracelets + a pink ribbon tied around her wrist.

tiny silver hoop earrings.

her messenger bag.

coonskin (raccoon) hat.

scarves.

brown sunglasses.

colorful, patterned socks & tights.

crochet beanies.

a teal/blue colored beret.

Violet didn't really wear much jewelry during the show, which I'm quite surprised by! I guess it's because how heavily layered / styled her outfits were, so they didn't really need any extra details.

But if she did wear jewelry, I think she'd wear many rings, bangles, lockets, and other unique-looking jewelry she'd get from thrift shops & antique stores. I also think she'd enjoy making her own jewelry!

Violet didn't really wear any hair accessories during the show either, but I can imagine her wearing claw clips / funky hair clips, and simple headbands as well.

Overall, I would recommend looking for Violet-esque accessories at second-hand stores, and Etsy is a good place to find jewelry! Urban Outfitters, Free People, and H&M carry socks, tights, and hats similar to Vi's style as well.

I apologize for the late reply!! I hope this could help :)

[lizzisimss]

Brown Outfits Lookbook CC List:

1: okruee-amelie-hair, [SC00]SeniorYearRibbedBlazer, serenity_FrilledTurtleneck_accWrist, RidgeportBirdieSkirt, serenity_JoonaBoots, [IDAVALLEN] - WILLOW TIGHTS SET

2: [greenllamas] GOSSIP_Audrey_Hair, serenity_LindsayTop, [arethabee] jessica tied shirt accessory, RidgeportMonetPants, [Jius]PlatformSneaker01, CASTERU_Jimin Backwards Beret Cap

3: simstrouble_FemaleHair_NaiaV2, [AxA_Girlboss]-EmilyTop_V2, GCSSkirt_Sep22PlaidPatternedMidiSkirt, Madlen Olga Boots

4: [greenllamas] Honey_Hair_V2, [AxA]-Beret, serenity_SP26_SweaterSkirtHalfTuck, [AxA] - OliveSkirt, [Jius]PlatformKneeHighBoots01, Solistair_ToastyToes_08_OverKnee_MF_Hibiscus, RidgeportMynxTights

5: CLUMSYALIEN [NEVY HAIR], [greenllamas] DTWN_Jordan_Jacket, serenity_CargoMiniSkirt, Dyoreos – Carnival Boots, HUIEN- Old School merged (beret),

6: [Aladdin] Megan Hair, [AH00B]-AlynaTop_V1, AdrienPastel x Jan2022_CandiceAccTurtleneck, serenity_SP26_SkirtPleated, [Jius]LeatherPlatformAnkleBoots01

7: simstrouble_FemaleHair_ZenaisV2, serenity_af_ShortTank, Elliesimple_fBottom_RibKnitTrousers, [Jius]ChainLoaferMules01, casteru - yfHat_Messenger Bag_031020

8: [boonstow] lauren hairstyle, Sentate-2022-MiucciaSweater, Elliesimple_fBottom_WidePants, [Jius]KnittedSocks02, [Jius]ChunkyPlatformHeels01, [boonstow] blossoming bow acc

Body: Pralinesims_Nails_Female_N27_SugarMilk, heihu-niunai_cleavageoverlay_mouthcrease, nesurii_lightitup-highlight,  Pralinesims - UltimateEyebrowCollection_MaxisMatch (N134 Jana), Pralinesims - UltimateEyelinerCollection (N18 Elysium, N44 VEOX), PYXIS - ToTheBone_Nosemasks, [ajduckie] Honey Skinblend, Simbience_HauteSkinblend

Makeup: JH Cosmetics - Eyeliner 98, JH Cosmetics - Eyeshadow 108, JH Cosmetics - Eyeshadow 112, [ d r e a m g i r l ] 3 D_l a s h e s_V6, JH [COSMETICS] EYELINER #116, JH [COSMETICS] EYESHADOW #126, JH [COSMETICS] EYESHADOW #135, JH [COSMETICS] EYESHADOW #134, JH [COSMETICS] LIPSTICK #148, LS - KYLIE - dreamy nude blushes, [ d r e a m g i r l ] 3D_l a s h e s_V7, TwistedCat_Glow_Eyeshadow, TwistedCat_Glow_Lipstick, TwistedCat_Prism_Lipstick, TwistedCat_SourFruit_Blush, Pralinesims - UltimateEyelinerCollection, Pralinesims - UltimateLipstickCollection, PS - BlushN29, RemusSirion - Lipstick_233-Proteomics, RemusSirion - Lipstick_241-Sapogenate

Accessories: [greenllamas] GOSSIP_Luna_Necklace, ilkupSolarEarringsMERGED, [arethabee] starr earrings, [SC00]SeniorYearChain, serenity_AliceEarrings, Pralinesims - UltimateEarringCollection, [Liliili] - Earring Collection

Tray files are available on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/lizzisimss

Please consider supporting if you wish :)

[strawberryteabunny]

Frederick’s 30 Days Day 5: Do you have any off brand / atypical lolita pieces that you use often in your coords?

Yes! This vintage Gunne Sax blouse pops up all the time (along with other vintage/offbrand blouses)- I also like using offbrand printed long sleeved tops for casual coords in cooler months.

I think these three items are my most frequent offbrand/non jfashion things I wear- vintage Gunne Sax blouse, vintage apron, and bustier I sewed lace on (I think from H&M or Target?)

I couldn’t find a coord where I’m wearing all three together (although I’m sure I have), but here’s the blouse and bustier with a Baby skirt (and I’m pretty sure the cherry clips from below are clipped on my headdress too).

I also tend to use a lot of Liz Lisa items, and other himekaji brand stuff like bags, sweaters/cardigans, shoes, and cutsews: a lot of them fit perfectly into lolita IMO even if they’re not from a lolita brand.

Older coord with Liz Lisa cutsew and bag (I have this bag in pink and bordeaux and I wear them all the time), Ank Rouge beret, Honey Cinnamon jacket and offbrand socks I honestly don’t remember where I got.

Some hair accessories I wear a lot-

Either on their own in casual coords, or I tend to add the clips on to rectangle headdresses.

My favorite winter coat is also offbrand; this is from Collectif which does a lot of 1950’s inspired designs. (I also have an AP Bunny-chan coat, but as I wear more red than pink in winter it doesn’t get out as much sadly 😔 )

[pink-dino]

I wore my new "Ribbon Scallop" JSK from Meta yesterday for a mini meet with the Berlin comm. We went to Altstadtcafé Cöpenick and it was a super comfortable vintage style location!

JSK: Metamorphose Temps De Fille

Cutsew: Baby The Stars Shine Bright

Cardigan: H&M

Shoes: Bodyline

Beret: Elleni the Label

Pins: Paläa & Myuna Art

Everything else: Offbrand

[coral-and-reef]

A l o h a ! ♪

This is my version of him after 5 years, deciding to explore Splatsville and it's culture. Being 21 now, his personality is more chill and laid-back, although his excellent battling skills never gets old. Since Aloha is mostly outside, he looks more tan due to long exposure of the sun.

Since Sizzle Season has released the Coral Bloom Aloha, the idea of him wearing that was a MUST. Plus, I was kinda disappointed in how the sudden 5 year timeskip in the manga changed nothing except for the protagonists :( but hey, let's get our hopes up and get our bingo card.

I'm really proud of my work :> I'm thinking if doing a Splatoon 3 ver for the rest of the S4.

Gear: Annaki Beret & Glasses, Order Earring Replica, Coral Bloom Aloha, Annaki Strappy Sandals

[dadocisin]

"What's da thang on yer h-h-head for? Mos- most of da Bizz-eee-boys wear da hat. Like dis!" Id points at his own hat. It's covered in sand and dirt. "So wha- s-so wha's dat?" - @bidzzyboy

Ah, itsa head mirror. It’s used to reflect light so eye can examine a bit bettah! Lotta doctah’s nowadays don’t use ‘em

..I used to wear one of tha berets though before i ‘ranked up’. I’m kinda on da level of Capo

[almostangrything]

Imagine: My oc (hero name Enigma) and Aoyama sneaking around and pranking sleeping people by putting berets on their heads, tucking a baguette under their arm, and drawing a little curly moustache in eyeliner under their nose and taking a picturevideo with some weird french word (mostly not french, just french sounding) as a caption.

Hawks/Tokoyami: le oiseaux/oiseauxes

Aizawa: le hobo (silentish h)

Izuku: le hopital (silentish h)

Bakugo: l'esplosionne

Tsu: le phrog (phr pronounced like the weird french r same for h's)

Endeavor: Le fazzier horriballe

Dabi: le crispée

Nezu: Le hrratte

more to come