#he's got his fanciest collar on

[whoisnotmyname]

Queen Elyse Cousland-Theirin for her coronation with Sir

[diejager]

I saw something about Victorian COD so hear me out-

Victorian Price in the fanciest suit

I'm sorry but that man would be so hooooooooooot as a Victorian gentleman, it fits his vibe

p.s. Happy 2024!!!!!!!

I got to this 3 months later… Happy belated new year 😅

Cw: flirting? Price being a gentleman, older man/younger woman, established relationship, tell me if I missed any.

Your father’s business parties had always been boring, they were a chore for you to keep a perfect facade to the public, the frail yet strong lady of the house, donned in ridiculously frilly dresses and thighs corsets. Your mother had fussed over it your entire life, her rough fingers, brought from her commoner background, had made her harsher in every manner to keep her title, for you to keep yours as a noble born into a world of riches. But the upkeep of it was useless when you had no part in it, forced to play a part in something you had no right to be a part of. 

Granted, you had your reservation, understanding that being on the same side as your father had it’s perks, the power his title - soon to be passed down to your older brother once your father passed - and his money. You didn’t necessarily depend on it wholly, you might live in his home, eat from his cooks and call for the maids and butlers he employed, but you had your studio away from home, somewhere in the city where you painted under natural light and sold portraits to people who paid you for a commission. 

It wasn’t as grand as being a merchant, to sell the luxuries most nobles sought - gems, fabrics, gold and silver - but it built you connections, your work passed from mouth to ear, one noble at a time, and one town at a time. You had your clientele and your father had his, you had an image to keep for something you worked so hard for, but to invest an equal amount of face and finesse in a snobbish party was draining. Fortunately, a few of your father’s work affiliates were regular clients at your little studio, sending letters to you months in advance to organise dates for you to paint them, it varied between one and a few months.

Your favourite was a British merchant company, lead by one bear of a man that you knew well, managed by three - a kind-hearted brit with beautiful skin, a boisterous Scot with his unusual haircut, and a broad and rugged man who hid his identity under a fearsome mask - other you were well-acquainted with and advised by a strong headed woman too advanced for your era. John Price was his name, a man a decade older than you, but treated you kinder than any man had before him, a gentleman in a beautiful suit and slacks, a red shirt and waxed shoes. He - coincidentally - matched your attire, your frilly, red chemise with a high and bowed collar, the sleeves long and rumpled in waves of red silk, waist high pants that hugged your body the same way your mother’s corset hugged her form and slick shoes that shone under the high chandeliers. 

“You seem bored, love,” his soft and baritone voice never failed to make you shudder, his hand on your back a reminder than he was with you.

He was always the gentleman, a man who worked his way to nobility, gaining a title and land through blood, sweat and tears. He was known for his trades, selling and shipping a large variety of items that some considered exotic simply because nobles hated interacting with foreigners, a kind of bred racism and xenophobia through generations to fear any uprising from their colonies and other countries. He was as broad as his company was known, every core member of it respected for climbing the echelon of society through hard work. Some purebred nobles might hate him for taking a title without being born into it, but none could object his craft, like an artist couldn’t do hate their canvas. 

“There isn’t much to do, is there, John?” You nodded towards your father, knowing that he was observant enough to see the slightest of movement, “My father is… he loves bathing in luxury, in the popularity his name brings.”

He hummed, a low rumble from his throat, his eyes narrowed almost threateningly, but you knew the amused gleam in his eyes. You had years to get to know him, once an occasional client - a man who stumbled into your studio wanting to let a newly risen artist a chance to paint him, admiring your work for the smooth and confident strokes - who brought his art trade to you, now a trusted friend, someone you were blasphemously closed too for someone your age. 

Your friendship hadn’t lasted long, the constant coaching from Kyle and Johnny, the silent push from Simon and the proud smile from Kate had both of you meeting halfway, throwing you into his open arms and fooling around at the back of your studio until John could take you away to marry.Eloping and always sounded interesting, you weren’t needed at home, your father had an heir and your mother had your younger sister to worry about.

“He flaunts it foolishly, yes,” he agreed, raising the cup to his lips, tipping it until the champagne flowed down the glass rim, “But we have a contract, one I intend to uphold until he complete his end of it. And I met you.”

He turned to you, a tender smile hidden under his beard, his stormy blues softening as he peered down at you, adoration gleaming in his eyes. You wished you could kiss him, to grip him by the collar and pull him down to press your lips against his course ones, to kiss him deeply and show him the love you felt for him. 

“I would, love, but we’re in public,” had you spoken out loud? It seemed you did if John answered you, his chuckles shaking his shoulders, “Would you come home with me once I’ve finished my business?”

“Of course, John.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[stvharrngton]

kinktober: day twenty three

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

kink: window/balcony sex

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, sex on a balcony, old money!steve, r and steve just got married

word count: 0.9k

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @wheel-of-hyperfixation @mooonyweasley @steveshairspray @jjmaybankswifes-blog

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

The sun was setting, pretty pinks and oranges decorated the skyline of Rome, Italy. The streets below your hotel room bustled as cars drove by, twinkling light and street lamps flashing in the distance.

You sat on the balcony of your hotel room in a white satin robe, flute of champagne in hand, the warm breeze flowing through your still styled hair. Steve appeared behind you, his shirt unbuttoned with the bow tie undone, still snug under the collar and a pair of fitted black boxers still on. A cigarette in his mouth ready to light.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before he lit the smoke in his mouth.

You hummed at the feeling of his lips on yours, your mind flashing back to having them on every inch of your body not even twenty minutes ago back in bed. You had eloped, the boy whisking you off to Italy to get married in private, something about not being able to stand the judgemental looks of his father as he married the woman he loved.

Steve spared no expense, as usual, only the finest treats and gifts for his girl. Your dress was glamourous, although abandoned long ago, the hotel the fanciest place you had ever seen. You watched him carefully as he took a seat in one of the comfy chairs on the balcony, his lips forming a pout as he blew the smoke from his cigarette.

He caught your eye, a smirk tugging at his lips, “What’s on your mind, love?” he asked.

“You,” you said nonchalantly with a giggle.

He nodded his head at you with his arms outstretched as he stubbed out his cigarette, urging you take your rightful place on his lap. You took your seat gladly, knees digging into the plush cushions either side of Steve’s hips.

His fingers came to mess with the belt that was tied at your waist, pulling lightly until the robe came undone with ease. The white satin barely covering your still naked body, the frilly garter still sitting snugly around your thigh, your sheer stockings dawning on your legs.

“What about me?” Steve breathed, his fingertips teasing your stiffening nipples over your robe. His tongue darting out to lick at his lips as his eyes raked over your body.

“Oh, just about getting you to myself for the rest of my life, Harrington. Not much.” You pursed your lips in a smirk, your body involuntarily leaning into his touch, pushing your chest out into Steve’s large palms.

“Mm,” Steve hummed, “can’t wait to show you off to everyone back home as the new Mrs. Harrington.”

The satin of the robe fell to the side as Steve began to pull your hips against him, letting his mouth wander to your tits, tongue circling the pert buds of your nipples. You keened at the feeling of his lips on you, not that it was the first time that night.

“But for now,” he started, warm brown eyes flitting up to you, “how ‘bout I show you off to everyfuckingone in Rome, hm? Bend you over this balcony and fuck you stupid?”

That’s where you found yourself now, your hands braced on the thick tan stone of the balcony, the hem of your robe fisted in Steve’s hand. His boxers were shoved down his thighs, just enough to free his cock from its confines. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your hip as he fucked his cock into you, nice and slow.

He’d sink into you to the hilt, his bush tickling the peach of your ass as he buried himself inside of you. Your warm, wet walls swallowing him whole, clenching around his length as you tried your best to keep quiet.

Steve had other plans for you, snaking a hand round to your front and up to your neck, his fingers pinching at your jaw. He started hitting in deeper, his hips grinding against your ass as he fucked you.

“Come on, honey, wanna hear you,” Steve breathed out, in between grunts and groans, “want everyone down on the street to hear how good Steve Harrington fucks his girl.”

His words made you mewl, keening as you moaned loudly. The way Steve was so casual with it, how the dirty words came so naturally to him made you go insane. Had your cheeks heating up and your pussy fluttering.

“Oh, Steve, fuck—,” you managed to stammer out, your heart racing and bubbling up into your throat. He had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack as you inched closer to your orgasm.

You felt his lips on your neck, wet and sloppy as he breathed in your ear, his hips still rolling against yours. Not a care in the world.

“You like when I fuck you like this, baby? Like when I fuck you nice and deep, for the whole world to see? Fuck— could fuck this pretty little pussy all day long.”

Steve didn’t miss a beat, no stuttering or stammering, no skipping over his words. His thick cock stretching you out as his words swam around your brain. The guy in the next room to you, or below you could see and you wouldn’t care, Hell, the entire city of Rome could be watching, listening, and you couldn’t give a damn.

Not when Steve was fucking you like this.

[15-lizards]

Not sure if you've done them already, but what do you think the mistresses of Aegon IV would have worn?

I yes I’ve done some Here! That one includes Sereni, Barba, Bellegere, and Mellisa (plus Naerys) so I’ll do some more here (also idk if I’ll do Jeyne since there just isn’t much to go off on for her)

Falena Stokeworth is the first mistress, the first to make a “man” out of Aegon when he was 14. Since she was ten years older than him, she doesn’t wear the frivolous fashions of the younger ladies, though you can still tell she spends excessively on fine fabrics and intricate lace. I think she always held some bitterness ab what happened at the Maiden’s Day Ball, and always tried to dress as “elegant and unassuming royalty” . Plenty of embroidered bodices, silk overskirts, lace collars, puffy under sleeves, etc etc. She almost looks nouveau riche as she tries to fit in with royalty

Poor Meg dressed in common clothes for most of her life. As a blacksmiths wife, she wore the proper clothing for her station and work. Her hair was covered in a cap, her clothing consisted of an old shift, a kirtle, maybe an extra skirt and her apron. All made of rough wool and homespun cotton. When Aegon took her, she suddenly began to dress like a minor noble’s wife. She enjoyed light, gentle colors that she never got to wear when she was a common woman. She likes to make all of her own dresses too, small pleats and puffs, pretty bows, and slimmer skirts than the average noble woman being fancy enough to suit her taste. Once she got sent back, she probably took them with her but never got to wear them again :(

Cassella Vaith was probably a silly young girl when she was taken as hostage during the submission of Dorne, and thus adapted to Kings Landing nicely and enjoyed life there. She enjoyed the fine silks and brocades that the ladies wore, but also incorporated her own culture into her clothes, with thin cottons and looser fitting fabrics that caught the wind. She liked pink and cream and gold, dressing more like a frivolous princess than anything else, because Aegon gives her whatever she wants. Even after she gets sent back to Vaith she still dresses like a young royal mistress, even into her old age, convinced that Aegon is her true love and will call her back eventually

Bethany was probably not as eye catching as her elder sister, and her status as a younger daughter meant she was not given as fine clothes as Barba did when she was trying to become Aegon’s mistress. However she was pretty and young and fresh faced, and her gowns were still suitable for a noblewoman, though perhaps not the fanciest at court. Essentially all of this was good enough for Aegon in his old age, and her style did not change much at court besides the inclusion of more detailing and more expensive fabrics. Bethany was disgusted by the king, and probably did not put much effort into her appearance for him, but did for Terrence Toyne, and this sudden effort for a kingsguard was probably what got them found out and executed

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from chapter 18 of Underline the Blue:

Nate stiffened in alarm. ‘I’m not dressed for a restaurant,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to one, are we?’ ‘We sure are,’ Janusz said. ‘Also, hardly anyone who comes here dresses up unless they want to. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Most people who end up here have ended up here after long drives, looking for somewhere to eat. The folks in the fanciest clothes are staying in one of the chalets or want to be dressed up. As long as we’re not wearing thongs or wife-beaters, we’ll be fine.’ Nate didn’t feel reassured when he saw how nice the restaurant looked. It was literally built over a large lake, surrounded by tall trees on every side. The building was made of a reddish-coloured wood, and it had floor-to-ceiling windows all around the lakeside, so the people eating could look out over the lake. The whole place looked sophisticated. Not like a five-star restaurant, but definitely like a place Nate wasn’t allowed to go to. He got out of the car slowly, and Janusz came around to his side, standing in front of him. ‘What’s going on, Nate?’ Nate picked at the collar of his black T-shirt. ‘I don’t think I’m…good enough to go somewhere like this.’

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Date - Fresh/Nightmare

Prompt: Meet Cute/Blind Date

Prompt from: @yearoftheotpevent

Media: UTMV/Undertale AUs

Genres: Human AU, blind date, first date, romance (I guess haha), rivals (?) to lovers, ooooo Fresh is from Nightmare’s past ooooo, use of 90s slang because lord knows I’m not going to write Fresh without it

Pairing(s): Fresh/Nightmare

CW/TW - Mentions of Fresh infecting people, mentions of theft

Other Notes: I’m not the most proud of this one tbh😔 this month was rough for writing. I would’ve loved to write their date but I did not have the time. maybe another day…

Word Count: 1837 Words

“Can I start you for tonight, sir?”

“I am waiting for someone, but a lambrusco would be excellent.”

“I will get that for you sir.”

“Thank you.” Nightmare nodded, watching the waiter walk off.

Blind dates were stupid. Absolutely stupid. Nightmare set the menu down and rubbed his forehead, looking out at the window. He had to be about ninety stories up, he could still see the sun, despite it trying to set on the horizon. The restaurant's ambiance was nice. It was formal, quiet, and the live music was a great touch. A small orchestra was playing a variety of classical music, and Nightmare quite liked it. It wasn’t the fanciest restaurant he’s ever been to, but he didn’t expect much from his boys. He also didn’t expect himself to agree to a blind date set up by said boys, and yet here he was.

Did he seem sad and pathetic? Is that why they set him up on a date with a stranger? Nightmare didn’t feel sad and pathetic, he was the King of Negativity after all, there was no one better than he. Which is why this blind date idea felt so stupid to him. He could get any man he wanted, and yet his boys decide to set him up with a stranger? How stupid.

…Yet he agreed to it, didn’t he? He supposed that the worst thing that could happen is that it’s some weirdo, and he just chucks them out the window and treats himself to dinner. The best thing that could happen was that no one showed up and he got to eat by himself. The quiet of the restaurant was nice compared to what often happened during meal times. There was always a lot of shouting and lack of manners at Nightmare’s dinner table.

The waiter returned with his wine, opening the bottle and pouring a glass for him. He didn’t allow the waiter to set it back down, as he took it from their hands directly. He thanked them before turning back to the window. He twirled the wine around in the glass for a moment before taking a sip.

Oh, how he absolutely adored red wine. One could call him a wine connoisseur, and he would wear that title with pride. Perhaps it made him seem a bit arrogant, but he didn’t care. He was arrogant, might as well pair it with a fine wine.

Another swish of the glass before he took a sip, slowly feeling the alcoholic juice slip down his throat. His teal eyes shut as he did so, allowing himself the satisfaction of taking in no other sensation than the taste of the wine. Lambrusco was really a hidden gem in the wine world. This particular wine was of great quality. Nightmare could tell. Cheap lambrusco was often very sweet, and this was aged and dry to perfection. He took another sip, his lips curling back into a smile. There was nothing like a good wine on a calm evening. It was perfect. Even if his date decided to show up right at that moment, he wouldn’t even care.

“Yo, Nightmare, brah! I think you’re my date for tonight!”

Nightmare could hear the glass of his soul cracking in his mind. His eyes opened into a confused scowl as he looked to his left. Standing in front of him was that abhorrent, nineties parasite. Standing at a horrific six feet (or two hundred centimeters) was Fresh, and the bastard didn’t even try to dress up! Nightmare was horrified. Fresh was in his everyday wear, which was already beginning to hurt his eyes. He was wearing that stupidly obnoxious blue, purple, and white sweatshirt of his, and the pink shirt underneath and the massive 90s collar. His pants were also a variety of neon colors, and frankly, if it pissed Nightmare off. Pick a color scheme and stick with it goddamnit! Even Cross, the most idiotic man he’s ever met, could understand that!

Fresh cocked his head to the side, a smile on his face. He was wearing his rectangular sunglasses (Nightmare wasn’t convinced that they were actual sunglasses, considering their properties) that currently said “YOLO” in bright yellow and blue lettering. Nightmare knew what the glasses were concealing. This particular host of Fresh’s was tall, a little lanky, and had dark skin. The host had their hair styled into box braids, with neon colored hair extensions weaved into it. No doubt it was Fresh’s doing. Nightmare couldn’t put his finger on it, but he could see the way they had been woven together had Fresh’s name written all over it.

“This cannot possibly be right. What are you doing here?” Nightmare asked, his face pulled back into a scowl. He only got more visibly angry when Fresh sat himself down on the chair across from Nightmare. Fresh grinned at him, leaning back in the seat and man-spreading as he did so. Nightmare didn’t even want to know what the other guests thought of this horrid exchange.

“It most certainly is correct my dude!” Fresh clicked his teeth and gave Nightmare finger guns which made him cringe. “Ya know, when I got the invite from your boys, I was a bit nervous y’know? I thought they were gonna kill me whenever I arrived here, haha!”

Wine glasses were usually supposed to be filled to around halfway, perhaps even less, depending on the type of wine and the consumer. However, Nightmare filled his glass nearly all of the way as Fresh spoke. He nearly downed the entire glass in one sip. He’d need a little alcohol to deal with this nonsense.

“How long have you been here? Sorry for not getting here sooner! Nearly got lost a couple times!”

“It would have been a major shame if you did.” Nightmare stated, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he took another sip of his wine.

“Hella broski!” Fresh, however, did not pick up on his sarcastic tone. Unless he did, and was just messing with Nightmare? God, Nightmare could never tell with this guy! He just could not read Fresh, and it pissed him off.

There was an awkward silence that Nightmare didn’t even attempt to fill. He gently sipped his alcohol as he watched Fresh, noticing that he barely twitches, his stupid smile still on his face. Nightmare didn’t want to look at him nonstop, but there was this awful feeling in his chest, that if he looked away Fresh would disappear or get closer to him. Fresh always had this uncanniness about him. Similar to a robot, or a statue.

In a way, Nightmare was right for feeling that way. Fresh was just puppeting a flesh suit, and all of his mannerisms showed that clearly. It was like he was pretending, acting as if he was human. He was doing an incredibly poor job.

With one final rub to his temple, Nightmare held up his hand to get the attention of a waiter. He was not going to deal with this. He would pay for his wine (as any respectable person would do, he may be an evil king but he wasn’t a monster!), leave, and then discipline whoever thought that playing with his love life was a joke.

“Ah ah! Wait a minute will you brah?!” Fresh reached across the table, grabbing Nightmare by his hand and yanking it down. “C’mon! At least give me a chance?”

“Why?” Nightmare hissed, yanking his hand away. “I know what you are. You can’t possibly feel any actual attraction to me.”

“Woah, bold assumptions there!” Fresh leaned over, putting a hand against his chin. “I mean, you’re the king, broski! Who wouldn’t be attracted to ya?”

Nightmare rubbed his forehead, debating just getting out of there.

“Ah, but anyways, I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you for a while now! You’re just so…” Fresh’s expression changes into something more sinister, and Nightmare can feel the aura of the room changing as it did so. “Interestin’, y’know?” Always have been. Ever since you were purple.”

Ah, right. Nightmare had nearly forgotten his small encounter with Fresh. It had to have been around two hundred or so years ago since their first meeting. It wasn’t anything revolutionary, but it had planted the seed in Nightmare’s mind that there was something else out there. After all, a small, bright purple, four-tentacled creature with a black and yellow eye-mouth isn’t something you say everyday. Especially if your everyday consisted of living in the same forest that never changed. Nightmare dared Dream to eat it- er, Fresh, but he refused. And for better or for worse that decision somehow led Nightmare to be sitting at a dinner table with the man. If only Dream had more balls and eaten him when they were kids. Perhaps this could’ve been avoided.

“So lemme treat ya!”

“With what money? Last time I checked, you lived in a void with your furbies.” Nightmare scoffed, a sly smirk forming on his face as Fresh’s expression fell.

“Yowch!” Fresh held his hands up, a surprised look on his face. “I’m a lil’ hurt by your words, brah! I’ve got money! How’d you think I got all mah trinkets?”

“I figured you just took them.”

Out of all the things, Fresh looked most offended at that. “Whaaa??? Nightmare, brah, that hurts even more! Stealin’ and breakin’ the law is so uncool yo! I would never! I get my money completely legit-ly!”

“Yeah? How?”

“Well, I use the money from my hosts of course! I take their body right? Then I get access to whatever they have! Real simple.”

“That…is stealing, Fresh.”

“Nuh uh.”

Putting a hand to his temple once more, Nightmare gave Fresh a look of incredible incredulity. “Really. It’s not stealing?”

“Nah! Doesn’t count.” He laughed, and Nightmare could hear the cruelty in his voice. “Anyways!”

Fresh leaned over the table and grabbed Nightmare by his hand. The grasp was gentle, as if he knew that Nightmare wouldn’t yank it away. Nightmare couldn’t deny it, there was something alluring about Fresh. It wasn’t the way he dressed, obviously, but his past, how he operated, made Nightmare want to tear into him and see how he ticked.

“Nightmare, brah, please.” Nightmare was surprised to feel that despite the silver piercing in the host’s bottom lip, Fresh’s lips felt soft as they connected with the back of his hand. When was the last time someone had, sincerely, kissed the back of his hand? Was it Cross? It had to have been, when Cross pledged his allegiance to Nightmare those long seven months ago. His lips twitched as he wanted to smile, but remained stoic. “Lemme treat you tonight. It might be fun.”

Nightmare could see the sinister smile in Fresh’s face from a mile away. More often than not, his own grins held that sort of minacious quality to them.

“Maybe I’ll surprise ya in ways you couldn’t even imagine.”

Oh, how could Nightmare decline such an offer?

[tangentburd]

~ Oh So Fly! ~

From the rockin’ street doves to the coo-l Capuchines We’ll pick and peck apart every piece of bird-based bling Warmers, collars, capes… Gramma’s cornbread cowls? You might as well go back home with your head in a towel!

~ A nonsensical poem I wrote on pigeons and their Fabulous! Bread! Necklaces! for the recent "Toasty Mart" bread x animals zine hosted by @bycmykae. Thanks for the pun fun-filled experience!

Shoutout to @katsuayumu too for making all the super cute and delicious pigeon character art for this piece :D

🕊 [ Read the full poem on AO3 or under the cut! ]

🍞 [ Read the free zine via itch.io! ]

Greetings! Salutations! Birds of a feather! Welcome to the Bread Derby, sisters and brothers! The name’s Pasquale and I’m your host for today— Colomba of keen eye for fashions of the day ~✦

It’s party pigeon time down here in the square Where every-birdy’s decked in their fanciest neckwear Where the have-its flaunt it! And the have-nots want it! Where upper crusts and lower crumbs clash in showers of grit!

From the rockin’ street doves to the coo-l Capuchines We’ll pick and peck apart every piece of bird-based bling Warmers, collars, capes... Gramma’s cornbread cowls? You might as well go back home with your head in a towel!

We’ll see who’s the boss in their oven-baked best! And who’s burnt toast that’s only good for lining nests! Beaks up and b-ready, we’re starting the show Coo! Here’s our first lady—let’s fluffin’ go!

———

Behold! This uppity—I mean, blue-crowned royalty: The Duchess of Dovershire, come to visit from her county With her pearl-tipped crest as though dipped in icing And draped with a most exquisite braided bread ring Such graze! Delicacy! (Maybe a hint of power?) The air and flair of fresh-milled flour—

“How do you do? Your reds and greens are lovely!” Hold up, did... she just say something to me? Why yes ma’am, thank you! I adore them too! It’s just avocado bruschetta, nothing too frou-frou~ She chortles, nods; then away she struts: A portly, pleasant presence in her posh, plaited doughnut.

———

Kerfuffle from the crowds! Cue the world’s favourite Frillback: Pop idol Pae-Dae, in a cushy cape of flatbread Luscious curls of feathers bronze all across his wings A dishy dove indeed: he’s every fledgling’s prince! His shuffling feet pause, his misty eyes find mine I wonder what words might leave a beak so sublime...?

“Wish I could sleep, Mister Host, but I’ll do my best Ask me about the dramas I’ve been filming without rest Or how everyone thinks my wings are hazelnut flakes...” Sigh, a celeb’s life! You can’t ever get a break I’ll interview you next week! Now go and catch some Z’s Your tortilla blanket should be cosy—but don’t let your fans see!

———

An emerald dove patters by, sleeves shimmering green Donning the airiest, fairiest sourdough I’ve seen: Scored like a flower, flour dusted like a lace veil Aw, she’s proud of it! Look at her bobbing tail~ “My name’s Paige Pidgerton, I baked it just today I hope to open my artisan beak-ery someday!”

You’re a natural, miss, this here’s a work of art! But really, is that all you dream of deep inside your heart? She flusters, she flushes, her white headband askew The rosy eyes of a heroine’s fairytale come true! “Maybe... if I can’t bake for everyone in town Then at least for some-birdy I’m happy to be around.♥”

———

You hear them before you see them: Two lean, rugged doves Squabbling, squawking, crash-landing (on the) square from above “I told you to hurry, old man, now we’re late for the parade!” ‘Why don’t you stop by a corner shop again, you ingrate!’ Good day, gentlemen! I might have seen you somewhere, sir Aren’t you G.I. Low, that decorated war officer?

‘Some eye you’ve got, chap! Sharp as this one I’ve got left Better than my grandkid here who thinks he’s bloody EMS.’ “If this thumbdrive don’t reach later, I’ll be toast-er than my toast! Name’s Payload Swift, mister, I’m a racer turned pigeon post.”

(Aha! Do I sense a glorious generation gap? A question trap to set their wings and tempers aflap!) Living life in the fast lane? Your intake must be insane! Care to share with us your go-to holy grains?

“This grilled tuna sandwich melt from Leaven-Eleven’s Is the best thing since sliced bread—a taste made in heaven!” ‘It IS sliced bread, for heavens’ sake! See the junk this boy is eating? Not like this chipped beef on toast from back when I was serving It’s provisions! Nourishment! Blessings for the whole flock!’ “Yeah sure, if only you can eat it without a fork...”

———

A zig-zagging, a tango-ing, a high bird-song and dance A kererū, post-dine-and-wine, down on the bench in a trance That passé office plumage versus bland-as-heck handbag— Lady, your tastebuds are wrecked! And that fruit loaf’s a big red flag!

She waves her bottle—budget Pigeot Noir!—before my eyes “I’ve seen your shows on CooTube, you’re that real fly guy! That Nicobar fella who’s gone way up the pecking order...” Lady, your tastebuds are just fine! Ignore what I said earlier—

“Can you tell me how you’ve been eating every-birdy’s lunch? You’re now rolling in dough, but I’m just rolling off the branch... How can a common quill-pusher like me, Karolie Flee Fly to the top, eat all I want, and still be this carefree?”

Oh Miss Flee, let’s first put my inspiring haute coo-ture aside No matter what you’re doing, you should do it with pride! Push all the quills (and your bosses’ too) until you’re seen and heard But remember: there’s more to you than just this corporate bird!

Sure, your whites, greens and purples may not be the hottest stuff But if you’re a better you than yesterday then that’s good enough~★ That said, please just toss that brick of cursed candied fruit Get a loaf that tastes more chic! With marmalade to boot!

———

So there we go, folks—our roundup of this Derby: A true-blue cross-section of our bling-based society I’ve seen a future star baker, courier, wine connoisseur Stay inspiring, inspired and well rested, you youngsters!

Boast your bread-lace loud and proud, bake it till you make it The true slice-of-life is how you wear it and what you make of it! And to every-birdy else who’s stayed with us throughout— Beak thanks to you all! This is Col. Pasquale, signing out~♫

~ end ~

[wherewhereare]

On Friday, May 10, Shelton, 47, attended the Keep Memory Alive’s 27th Annual Power of Love Gala in Las Vegas and when asked how he planned to spoil Stefani, 54, on the special holiday, he revealed that her sons Kingston, 17, Zuma, 15, and Apollo, 10 — whom Stefani shares with ex Gavin Rossdale — have Mother's Day covered.

"You know what? I don't have to, because her sons have been incredible," he said, adding that he’s often reminded the three boys of the significance of the day in the past, but they always have plans already.

"They're like, no, no, no. We've already thought about it. We're going to make breakfast for her," Shelton explained.

“I always can kind of just take a back seat and watch these boys. They do an incredible job spoiling her," he added.

While Stefani will be spoiled on Sunday, it was Shelton’s night on Friday, as he was honored at the event for his contributions to brain health over the years. Still, he couldn’t help gush about his wife for being there to support him after performing in the Bahamas the night prior.   

"She's amazing. She's super woman. We're just now calming down and settling in and taking this thing in. So I'm excited. I really am excited,” he said before entering the gala, where items were being auctioned off for hundreds of thousand of dollars.

“This is the fanciest thing I've ever been to in my life, period," Shelton added.

Joined by his wife at the event, the couple made a stylish appearance on the red carpet together, with Stefani in a long-sleeved silver mini-dress and her husband looking dapper in a black collared, button-down shirt with a black jacket, denim jeans and brown shoes.

Blake Shelton Says Being Stepdad to Gwen Stefani's Three Sons Has Changed Him in 'Every Possible Way'

Shelton watched as others such as Cassadee Pope and Gary LeVox sang his songs. He then took to the stage to sing “Sweet Caroline,” “Ole Red” and “Sangria.” Before the night ended, he invited Stefani on stage to perform “Nobody But You.”

For her part, the No Doubt front woman posted some behind-the-scenes moments from the night on her Instagram Stories, including a sweet couple shot of her and Shelton and fun clips of the impressive desserts, Shelton enjoying a bowl of chocolate candies and Kristin Chenoweth performing.

The couple is no stranger to collaboration, having recorded several songs together. In February, they released their latest duet, "Purple Irises.”

Of working with his wife, Shelton told PEOPLE at the May 10 event, “We’re patient with each other in the studio because look, we've been doing this a long time and when you’re in your twenties you can get in there and just knock stuff out and you never get tired. You can go until daylight. Now, we’re to the point where it's like, ‘Oh my God, I've sung this thing five times. You got it yet? Are we done?’”

Shelton also noted that both he and Stefani have false starts while they’re in the studio, but when asked if he notes when his wife messes up, the singer explained he is just happy to have her there.

“I don't say much. All I do is encourage. I don't want to lose her now,” he said. "If I finally get her talked into coming into the studio and singing on my track I'm never going to give her s--- about anything. I'm just going to let her take her time and do it her way. God bless her for showing up.”

[breakerwhiskey]

109 - ONE HUNDRED NINE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

Dear Harry,

To think I was craving unpredictability just last week.

I’ve had to leave the Caesar—or, I guess I didn’t have to, but—well, I was working on getting the record player going this morning when the fire alarm started blaring. Scared me right out of my skin, let me tell you.

So I gathered up my things and did what any sane person would do and evacuated. I’d gone through my usual safety checks before settling in, but it’s a huge hotel, so I didn’t get to all of it—with all this power actually working, I wouldn’t be surprised if something sparked and caught fire. But there wasn’t any evidence of smoke or fire, so who knows. Better safe than sorry, I say.

God, thank god for automated emergency systems. Whoever came up with those really did the apocalypse a favor. Without the tornado warning and the fire warning and everything…well, I could be dead several times over. It’s a pretty good argument for sticking to hotels over homes, I guess. If only people had these things in their homes.

Anyway. Fire or not, I’m out of Caesar’s now. And moving hotels actually proved to be an excellent choice, because I got to the Sands—that’s the only other hotel I recognized the name of, mostly because of Frank Sinatra at the Sands, the record. And I guess he and the rest of the rat pack must have come here a lot because guess what? I think I’m in their room.

That’s right—I got to the Sands and came up to the fanciest suite I could find and what does the wardrobe have in it but Dean Martin’s suits. His name is stitched right into the collar and everything! I couldn’t believe it.

It’s pretty late now, but tomorrow is the big 3-5 and now I know what I’m going to be wearing as I fix myself up whatever celebration I can. I think I’ve earned a day of treating myself, even if treating myself in this case means wearing a dead man’s suit.

Night, Harry.

[click, static]

[mushpired]

My first fanfic wooo! Some notes, this will include cheating, with slight soap ghost, sadly that’s the pair that has the cheating, but yeah

Also, English is not my first language, so please call out any grammar mistake. Also, I’ve never played cod in my life, enjoy!

The Other Wo(man)

-The other woman, finds time to manicure her nails-

Johnny got out of the shower, his towel hanging within reach, the fog clouded the bathroom, his feet meeting soft rug on his bathroom floor. With a towel hanging on his hips, he got out of the bathroom, not even sparing a look to his mirror, he has been avoiding it lately. He simply stepped onto his bedroom. It was weird being on leave, but it’s not like he had an option, Price basically had forced the 141 to “get rest” even though he hadn’t slept well in a month.

As he stepped into his room, he saw his clothes, the clothes he had planned on wearing for tonight, on his bed, ironed and neatly laying there, ready to be worn. A satin green shirt -it matches your eyes, you should wear it more- he said as he kissed him- and some black slacks, to be paired with black polished shoes, definitely the fanciest outfit on his closet.

After drying himself, he threw everything on, careful not to wrinkle anything. The shoes gave a little tap onto the floor as he walked to the desk that now worked as a vanity. He didn’t wear makeup often, not really an option as he worked, but here and now, he had been using it a lot more often. He looked, bad, to put it simply. His skin more grayish, and his eye bags more pronounced, today he had shaved, but his mowhawk was longer, only having the energy to shave the sides, he didn’t feel like cutting it - your hair has grown- Simon said, -is it bad- Johnny asked, lightly playing with his hair - never said that- he said, as he kissed him, his hand coming up to play with the longer strands falling onto his neck- he shook his head, trying to will that memory to go away.

He sat, facing the mirror on the desk, pulling the makeup he would be using tonight, concealer, foundation, powder, lipgloss, blush, bronzer. All just to appear less dead, with a bit of mascara, to fix his sunken gaze. He started to apply everything, the powder for some reason his favorite step, he remembered his mother, sitting on her vanity, little Johnny by her knees, his mother had been crying, she was reapplying her makeup, the powder on the vanity, brush on her hand as she covered the tear tracks, it was a powder foundation he thinks it was called, at that time he didn’t understand what was happening, he simply stayed there, kneeling by his mother, head on her lap, and his fathers shirt on the floor, a bright red lipstick stain on his collar. His mothers lipstick was pink.

Now he understood his mother, the memory and messages burned onto his brain, but it didn’t matter, it was just an accident, he shouldn’t have snooped anyways, it was his fault, he had simply not been enough, it’s good that Simon had looked for other ways to please himself, it didn’t matter that he did so behind Johnnys back, it didn’t matter that he lied to Johnny, really, it was just fine, it was probably just a one time thing, right? He should just start paying more attention, be more loving, that’s why he invited Simon to his apartment today, a candlelight, home cooked dinner, maybe this way Simon would realize that Johnny really loves him, that it was enough with just him. Right?

He finished applying the makeup, dinner was ready, he had cooked before getting ready. He just needed to set the table, light the candles, the sun had already set, moonlight streaming past his curtains onto the living room, as he set the table, plates, glasses, bourbon, candles, food, fork, knife, napkins, all was ready. He hadn’t even noticed the time, 5 minutes until Simon said he would arrive. He decided to light the candles and wait on the sofa, the gentle flames the only lights, he checked his phone, Price had invited the 141+ Alejandro and Rodolfo to a bar, he even offered to pay, the two Mexicans also on leave after the Las Almas mission, the accepted, along with Gaz, he, of course said no, ghost refusing the invitation, said he had other plans, that was enough to make Soaps heart flutter with hope, hope that Simon was going to arrive for the date at any minute.

It was 9:20, Ghost was supposed to be here at 9, but it was nothing, probably just bad traffic, he shouldn’t think too much about it.

9:45. Johnny had left messages that went unread, the candles were still burning, thankfully they hadn’t melted much. His stomach started to hurt, he would wait a little more.

10:15, just some more minutes, calls went to the voice mail, messages still unread. His heart ached. Candles had melted about a third, he had bought long candles, so they wouldn’t melt too fast.

10:36. His stomach ached with hunger, phone with no messages from Simon, only a few from Gaz and Price, but they were probably some memes he didn’t feel like seeing now, his heart felt like it was burning.

11:23. A knock on the door, he knew it wasn’t Simon, he had read the messages from Gaz and from Price. Tears were forming on his eyes. The knocking continued, now with the voices from his teammates, Price was loud, while Gaz was softer, more hesitant.

-it’s open- he said as loud as he could, knees close to his chest, arms hugging himself.

His captain and fellow soldier entered his house with hesitant steps. They looked at him, starting to open their mouths, before they took his look in.

He probably made quite the image. His mascara had run down with his tears, black streaks on his cheeks. Hair messy, the only light we’re the candles.

-I know- he said -I already know- he choked out, half sobbing.

His friends immediately went to his side, Price kneeling in front of him, Gaz taking his place by Johnnys side. Throwing an arm across his shoulder as his frame shook with the force of his sobs, Price taking his hands as he uncurled himself, knees now apart so he could bow his head, as he folded himself, trying not to choke on his tears and spit. Gaz was saying something, probably trying to give him some comfort as he cried, Price was quiet, only rubbing his hands carefully, rough hands treating him like glass.

He continued to sob, until sleep started to creep on him. Starting to lean to the side, as his head fell to Gaz’s Lap, legs stretching onto the sofa, Price still holding his hands, the last thing he saw, were Prices eyes, full with anger, and pity for his friend and teammate. And he knew, that they had seen Simon, his partner, at the bar, with that pretty boy that looked just like Ghosts old friend, whose name had to do with an insect, and they probably had been doing more than talking.

Simon had cheated on him, had been cheating on him, and now, he would sleep, tomorrow he would answer his friends questions, and cry some more. But for now, sleep was all he could think of, even with his heart full of pain and his empty stomach.

——————————————

Sooo that was it, I don’t really see Simon cheating on anybody, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, mainly because I like to hurt characters that I love. I wanted soap to be comforted, so I ofc added price and Gaz, I feel like they both would like to punch ghost, but the could leave their friend alone. That was it, I really am not good at this or anything. Oh! And I used the song “the other woman” by Nina Simone for inspiration. Thanks for reading!

[castle-dominion]

c3x23 pretty dead

This is a nostalgia song for me but it was released in 2011 so it was modern at the time. Wow. W o w...

I only rly know anything abt anything bc of the movie dumpling when some fat girl & some punk feminist joined a beauty contest. This man looks like a pimp. Kind of is Nice yellow cumberbund thing Illinois? Being french is weird. I want to say illinwa but everyone else says illanoy She;s wearing interesting clothing. Wow short with your daddy. I mean we all need to get away from home! Hey! I love the emotional b plot, it's so good to see rick as a dad who loves his daughter & supports her instead of acting like the twelve year old who can score his teacher. Odds are, someone's dead.

It's not the baron is it? Beckett outfit update: Detective clothes. Double breasted trench coat looking thing tied with a fabric belt. Her shirt is sort of crazyquilted in blocks it has colours, more pink around the waist. It is a regular collared buttonup shirt. I think I've seen her in it before too, which is nice bc I like seeing continuity. Ryan outfit update: Green sweater, dress shirt, brown normal looking coat (still professional enough), I can't tell the pants or tie bc the lighting is weird. Update: it's a light purple-tinted shirt. He's aken off his jacket in the precinct & I can see it now. The shirt has really nice collars & it's actually stripy but so light u can hardly see it. Tie is green & patterned slightly, it's like diamonds but it's also because the grain of the weave changes I think, so the way the light reflects off of it makes some of them more shadowed than others. PERLMUTTER YESSS SP: Detective. Writer.

I should call my dad. I don't talk to him enough. Glad he said he didn't actually know the time, just vaguely a little before 11; tho he could have also checked. Baron called them both detectives lol I mean yeah fair to the victim first but at the same time she's dead she won't feel it. Yeah lol I love how they're filming BTS & it might actually be a good idea to keep em on Come again! Oh no wait we don't want that. She's so silly I love her.

In the elevator scene the button for floor 4 is lit. (for floor four lol.) Homicide is on the 4th floor.

Beckett was indeed a model but not a beauty queen.

I like the one cop getting a picture with a queen oh goodness this is insane. A bunch of gals who look exactly the same all milling about this stinky bullpen & entire precinct wow & that "winners never slouch" got my mom & me to straighten our posture & celebrate the fact that she wasn't one of those moms who gave her kids eating disorders KB, whispering: CASTLE. THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. JE: Beats the usual lowlifes & nutjobs  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) KB: I don't know if u can say that nut jobs and beauty queens are mutually exclusive JE: Yeah, but none of them connect to the murder. I checked the sequin against all their dresses RC: I bet you did. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) JE: & none of them are a match. KB: Okay, look at the footage from the dinner. Let's make sure that the dresses we checked are the ones they actually wore. JE: Hm. Watch a parade of beautiful women in evening attire? Yeah, I can do that. RC: I bet you can. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) KR: Hey. So, I've been interviewing these ladies-- RC: I bet you have. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) KR: -! About their alibis last night!

clipping

Castle she's probably way too young for you

This man is gay af. I'm glad it's about more than beauty & who can buy the fanciest dress. I would honestly expect to be makeup skills, dance skills, & sewing skills more than who can afford what or even stuff like social issues. It's kind of neat how it's a talent show as well as a beauty contest. I like this guy. He seems so stressed over his gal dying. Political he says, making those motions with his hands

Black sequins? It's like the wedding video. I thought they were black sequins! I just couldn't tell if it was black bc it was so shiny.

KR: For unwanted *looks to esposito* advances Esposito ryan is telling u to stop hitting on him, he's getting married. /j btw KR, eyes wide with excitement: Oh but it gets better! *hits espt gently* JE: *barely raises an eyebrow* (he would bite castle's head off if it was him) KR: *excitedly continues to explain the drama*

Ew I hate this bobby character. Man sat on the wrong side of the table ...Goddess train...???.?.?? Who wouldn't want to ride the bobby rocket? Everyone from what we hear! Boy can't even remember?

KB: this guy's dropped more pills than a three fingered pharmacist I can't believe castle took dad advice from him Esposito just had video running on beckett's computer? (btw i figured out how to put question marks on tumblr wéo relying on copy-paste: I use my french keyboard!)

Esposito has an ass

Someone would probably pawn the fiddle, not drop it down a drain. Tho pawned can lead back to u. Captions? He said right on, not all right. KB just sits in the desk espt was just at

Oh martha is so pretty! Far right! Look at her abs! What was your talent? The way I wore a sweater. Oh poor Alexis. I love the drama. Give her a hug! I'm so glad alexis has gram there.

Ok castle, you have been divorced twice, idk if your relationship advice is that good

Parallel. It's love! Montgomery is so sweet I love him! RM: If you stayed married long enough, you'd know it's hard to stay original after the first ten. BRUH. (that was good!) JE: Yeah, he was tweeting photos of his manhood along the way. *holds up fingers close together* (won clip)

KR with a nice pastel blue sweater, plus his usual attire. I don't like that accent. KB has a nice jeanjacket with those leather sleeves. You would disrespect a beautiful & expensive instrument like that? 25 is old? Your brain has barely finished developing! Drugs?

Ah nudes.

lmao I love the sticky notes they put over them RC: Well, just because you're smart and beautiful doesn't mean you have good judgment. KB: RC: I didn't mean me.

RC: Deadly action, that's a good title JE: *looks down & shakes head in exasperation* Why would the photographer pay HER for the photos? She would be paying THEM for the session, right? Also dang she's skinny.

Boy's gay voice is so strong that my little bro thought a woman was speaking. & then I went all trans on him & explained voices. I don't even know as much as I would like to tbh. I should take singing lessons (not necessarily gender affirming voice lessons)

RM: Beckett, you're a woman, right? KB, lowkey flustered: Sir, I have no idea what to get your wife! [...] RC: The best thing to give a woman is something she said she wanted when she didn't think you were listening. RM: What if I wasn't listening? RC: Gift certificate? no honey no

JE: *turns around to watch someone's booty* "Negative" Yay she's sending ryan to meet up with him finally, keep the boys together

I like how he doesn't remember the actual name but does remember it was smth similar to jerry. Already "night before last"? Mum is always confused about how the doorone remembers everything. Sus? Sure. Lack of smth regular? Maybe. Smth normal? not rly.

Keieiper XD Every guy is a creep in the eyes of the parent. Poor becket,, look at her nearly pulling her hair out. KB: It was my own private Vietnam. Our place smelled of hairspray, perfume, and cigarettes. I'm surprised that we didn't spontaneously combust.

It's ash!!! He really does love her to go see her dad at work to win her back Long distance relationships are better than they used to be. It used to be that your man goes off to make a fortune so he can marry you but then gets attacked by pirates & becomes a pirate himself & then steals you back from kidnappers, or you go away for ten months & then come back & your wife has a kid altho I might be mixing up the birth of hercules/heracles with ulyssix/odysseus & his son who I thought might be nine years old when the man was gone for ten idk it's smth like that anyways it's better to have long distance relationships these days since back then you could send letters that take ages to get to that war zone or whatever.

Ryan's the one who said "yo" this time Ew an obsessive porn wall Ew he's hanged right behind it. they didn't smell it

Peri mortem. During death, not before, not after. Before amber? Yes Before! Now can you please move? You're in my light! (Perlmutter also has an actor who needs to know where to stand to get his light) (not clipping)

By today's standards are downright tasteful! Those convenient sticky notes Girl he's on the phone, you're asking him to do work while he's on the phone? Poor Jenny. "Sorry Babey."

RC: You know I-- I hate to interfere… AC: Since when? RC: Point taken.

Nice little magnifying glass! He got it bc beckett doesn't have one Coffee <3

Y'all agreed & knew he was a cheater? Wow this is dramatic. WOAH A VASE! Who do I need to be ashamed in front of? "take care of it"???

BOBBY STARK? Course he doesn't remember.

Strawberry oil XD ok rick

Why woulld he assume one of them was lying? Didn't they all say she was great?

He was so upset! No! (Ryan & espt had better be there) Ah yes they are. Where u going? Huh?

Good work you two! *clearing throats loudly* (Ryan's square shirt love it.) Good work you folks. Rick really is a charmer isn't he? I love it when characters are in love Dancing "That gift this morning"? sounds like sex Wait, you're serious, boss? Smile, please. That's an order. (They all smile and chuckle.) RM: Hey, you kids take care, alright? (He really is the dad of the precinct) KR: What the hell did you say to him? RC: Nothing! No, I just told him to listen to what his wife wanted. JE: Damn, Castle. KB: Castle, let me let you in on a little secret. Captain Montgomery retires all the time, just give it a week or two. He's like the Brett Favre of the NYPD. Trust me. He's not going anywhere. It's just so cute, I KNOW they are just teasing him & making him think they were mad at him> & then espt still makes that move at him lol. Making him run out of the room sideways.

She will keep showing up See you tomorrow SDFHAKSJDFHDSFD

She is such a lil genius just like my bb bro. I took an extra year of highschool lol.

So yeah good episode.

[warlordfelwinter]

aara trying to bring his mabari into val royeaux

[outofangband]

Updated Sons of Fëanor and Fashion/Hair Choices

I love list prompts like this so feel free to send more! For the Fëanorians or for other families or groups :)

I wanted to post an updated version that takes more into account climate of their realms in Beleriand which I always want to do more world building for

Realms of the Fëanorians

Final note on that: I based my thoughts on climate primarily from descriptions of the climate and landscape throughout Northeastern Beleriand however I am always willing and happy to reimagine places with other environment, climate or ecology and to do world building based on that

Armor headcanons

Another Himring HC about clothing

Amras and Amrod like to wear matching clothes. Not only is this comforting to them, it makes a more profound statement when one of them decides to wear something different, usually to get the attention of a sibling or parent. They usually decide ahead of time if one wants to stand out for the day.

They both like long, deep colored robes with sashes and sometimes scarves and often lacking leggings beneath though they wear trousers and tunics while hunting or exploring.

Estolad is a cool, relatively dry climate in colder weather though with a rainy season in mid spring and intermittent showers during the summer. They wear lighter fabrics (in both material and color) often fastened with a belt with a sheathe rather than a sash. The robes they wear, while still long, are fastened in a way to allow more agility

Their hair does differ slightly though it’s harder to tell especially outside the family. It’s typically a few inches (maybe seven centimetres) longer than shoulder length and is slightly wavy naturally. Amrod has experimented with curling his hair at the ends and they both often pull their hair back in braids.

Curufin has the most varied outfits. His clothes for forge work, of course, are light and designed to be as comfortable as possible under the heavy apron and protective gear required. Once a shirt or pair of trousers becomes so stained or dirty they can no longer be worn, Curufin repurposes them for rags to use in the forges

In addition to his forge clothes however, Curufin has some of the fanciest outfits for formal occasions and he takes them more seriously than most of his siblings. Tucked crisp tunics and dress pants often with intricately sewn tiny gems in the material to create lighting affects with a fancy hair ornament in the shape of the Fëanorian star, an artistically carved spark, or a dazzling butterfly for more elaborate celebrations is a typical fancy outfit for him.

In Beleriand, some of his forge clothes got repurposed for general rough wear. Longer trousers or breeches, tunics and often armor he made himself

The climate of Himlad is similar to Estolad but cooler during the spring and summer with less rainfall. Both Celegorm and Curufin own longer cloaks with down as insulation.

Curufin keeps his hair as short as he can, it’s practical in the forges. One long braid is typical outside the forges.

Caranthir wears the most consistently nice clothes. Lots of elaborate embroidery on the cuffs and collars and he values nice materials like satin and gossamer

His hair is slightly less than halfway to his waist but is often worn up in buns or braids that make it appear shorter. Like Curufin he also enjoys ornaments.

Like Ossiriand, the climate of Thargelion is mild with easier winters than Maglor’s Gap and the March. The climate is cooler than Ossiriand however. Snowfall is highest in the mountains and around their base including around Lake Helevorn.

Celegorm’s clothes have always been made for the outdoors. Even as a small child, his many adventures into streams and mud puddles forced the tailor to work harder to create clothes that would not be uncomfortable to wear when playing (and later hunting and exploring) for long periods of time and could be washed easily. Celegorm usually wears earth colors. He is the only one of his siblings who consistently wears the same color scheme.

Tunics that can be moved about in easily, leggings and/or trousers with a good pair of boots. Open flowing robes are worn on more formal occasions.

Celegorm’s hair is similarly messy though when he cares to look after it he enjoys the compliments more than he pretends. It’s usually long and not uncommonly tangled with leaves or even fur. He likes woven crowns with berries for a particular flourish.

Maglor’s style is somewhat similar to Caranthir’s but slightly more reserved. He likes long tunics and robes, covering but flowy. His hair is often adorned with small white flowers or jewels including a favorite gossamer head covering he enjoys

Maglor’s Gap is a semi arid climate with dry summers and cold winters. Wind speed is not infrequently an issue. His cloaks have thick collars and even non winter clothes are often worn with scarves because of dust and wind

Maedhros I’ve obviously talked about a lot especially during and after Angband but

Maedhros likes clothes he can work in but that can be nicely cleaned, pressed, and garnished with jewelry or such to be acceptable in formal or fancier occasions.

For several years after Angband, Maedhros suffered from more extreme intolerance to the cold than was typical in elves and cloaks and woolen garments became frequent parts of his fashion. This was also practical in Himring generally as the climate is harsh and cold.

He wears a lot of layers post Angband, for support of his limbs and spine (including specially designed pieces that function as braces), for feeling covered, and for practical weather reasons as well as to hide certain marks and changes from his time in captivity (again I know I’ve talked about this stuff before but…)

He dislikes dressing up and post Nírnaeth almost never has the energy for that effort

I have an entire post on clothing in Angband :)

His hair is well, if you’ve followed this blog you know that’s rather complicated. Pre Angband it was typically about halfway to his waist and often worn in braids that created a circle or crown around his head.

His hair was cut several times in Angband to humiliate him or for other reasons and though this was certainly traumatic, he nonetheless cuts it very short again post Angband as the memory of certain fingers through his hair and other sense memories were bothering him significantly more.

He wants full control over all aspects of him and especially those that made up his name

I wrote about this in an earlier story but Maedhros’s cutting of his hair, in the style and length he did was unusual for his culture and status and lead to more speculation.

In the long term after Angband he wears his hair somewhat longer than shoulder length with occasional braids or ponytails when training.

He keeps it very short after Nírnaeth because he doesn’t care to keep it clean or brushed.

As always please feel free to ask more! I love talking about this!

[evelxtus]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠‧₊› dom!owner!diluc x catgirl!reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲‧₊› reader seeks for diluc attention... maybe not the way they should.

𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞‧₊› smut drabble.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬‧₊› use of female genitals, vulgar language (whore), mad! diluc, petnames, thigh riding. minors DNI.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞‧₊› feeling like writing nsfw lately. anyway, enjoy this short messy drabble. don't know if i should make another part with more boys on it. and req open for more ideas.

Oh archons, what a mess you're making in your path. Books laying on the floor, scratches on the expensive wood... let's hope Diluc doesn't find out. But what's your goal? Well, that's simple. You just need your owner attention for a while. You're feeling pretty needy lately and he's not helping you at all. Maybe he doesn't know what you truly need.

When Diluc comes back from work, he stands head-on with everything you've smashed. His furious eyes looks for you while taking off his coat. “y/n! What does this mean?” his fierce tone of voice makes you approach him slowly, tail curled up with cautiousness and ears down. “I'm s-sorry.”

Diluc simply can't understand. What's this behavior of yours? You need a good scolding to make you see reason. “I'm feeding you with the best food I can find, buying you the best collars and leashes of Teyvat, just for you. And this is your way of thanking me? Do you even have minimum respect for your master?”

Your eyes meet the floor with embarrassment and try to get closer to him, extending a hand trying to reach out his shirt. “No. You're more than done for today.” he comments dryly, making his way to the couch and sighing once he's sitting. He's so tired and the only thing he got when he got home was a disgust.

You sit on your knees on the floor in front of him, not giving up. “Please, forgive me, master.” you ask looking up at him with an affected small voice. Of course, that isn't enough to persuade him. Come on, he's not an idiot.

You crawl up to your owner's lap. Surprisingly Diluc didn't seem to bother. He's ignoring you well.

“Master, please. You always buy me the fanciest things, but...” Diluc finally looks at you, a gleam on curiosity that he tries to hide on his amber eyes. “But? Are you so shameless as to demand more of me?” questions while you put one of your hands on his chest, leaning towards him and sitting now on his thigh.

“I just want you to touch me more.” your voice sounds more like a whine, and it's so close to Diluc's ear that it made him shiver, but doesn't seem to respond. “You're not gonna say anything? Should I do it by myself...?” you start rubbing your crotch against his thigh, causing a high-pitched moan to leave your mouth.

He's still silent, but you feel his heart racing faster than before, and it's when you moan his name when he places both of his hands hesitantly on your hips. “I shouldn't be rewarding you...” the red-haired grunts like he's not in control of his own body. Why is he grabbing your hips now so firmly? You don't deserve that. You don't deserve to be riding his thigh like a whore.

“P-please, help me... I can't do it alone...” you whine, still moving your hips back and forth on his thigh, your pussy throbbing more everytime asking for more friction. “Fuck it... Spoiled little kitty...” finally he moves according to your wishes, his hand making slight pressure down and making you moan louder when he raises his leg up a bit, standing on tiptoe so you can feel more deeply every motion.

His cock is twitching under the fabric of his boxer just at the sigh of your cunt constantly, desperately rubbing against his leg. “I-I'm... I'm close... Master... ahh...” Those words are what propel Diluc to now move you himself on his thigh faster than before. Archons, his cock hurts so bad to be pressed against his clothes, he just want to take it out and fuck you dumb on the couch.

You reach your orgasm, your legs shaking and your arms trembling, letting yourself fall on him. “I need m-more, I beg you... Fill me up with your dick...” you say, your breathy words hitting the warm neck of your owner. “I swear if you ask me next time before ruining my house I'll fuck the shit out of you. Not this time, kitty. You've been bad and this is your punishment...” he grunts, placing his hand on your head, caressing your hair slowly.

We all could say this end is not pleasant for him neither, but he needs to educate you properly. You'll learn your lesson this time, that's for sure.

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from today's writing, chapter 18 of Underline the Blue:

‘I’m not dressed for a restaurant,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to one, are we?’ ‘We sure are,’ Janusz said. ‘Also, hardly anyone who comes here is dressed up unless they want to be. We’re in the middle of nowhere, most people who end up here have ended up here after long drives, looking for somewhere to eat. The folks in the fanciest clothes are either staying in one of the chalets or want to be dressed up. As long as we’re not wearing thongs or wifebeaters, we’ll be fine.’ Nate didn’t feel very reassured when he saw how nice the restaurant looked. It was literally built over a large lake, surrounded by tall trees on every side. The building was made of a reddish coloured wood, and it had floor to ceiling windows all around the lakeside, so the people eating could look out over the lake easily. The whole place looked sophisticated. Not like a five-star restaurant, but definitely like a place that Nate wasn’t allowed to go to. He got out of the car slowly, and Janusz came around to his side, standing in front of him. ‘What’s going on, Nate?’ Nate picked at the collar of his black shirt. ‘I don’t think I’m…good enough to go somewhere like this.’

[rainycat2]

Though I Could Not Stop For Death

Chapter Four: Execute the Plan / The Plan Goes Awry.

Gotham? 

Fucking whack.

You couldn’t even see the stars, for Ancient’s sakes. And it wasn’t like Danny wasn’t close to the sky, or anything, no, the hotel Vlad put them up in, Wayne Hotel, honestly, was one of the biggest and fanciest in the whole city.

And it was still clogged with god fucking damn smog.

Honestly, it was an affront. Not just to Danny as a ghost with a space obsession, because really, humanity needed to get it together and stop poisoning the Earth before that shit started leaking into and affecting the Realms, but as a Wayne.

The fuck is Bruce even doing with his billions?

(Being Batman is the obvious answer, but still. Switch to clean energy, for fuck’s sake.)

Regardless. If Danny was spiteful enough, he could have asked Undergrowth for a favor to pop out some clear skies for one night, but it wasn’t worth it to have the Ancient with a favor over him. So instead, Danny suffered, sitting on the ledge of the hotel roof, looking down at the city below contemplatively. He was far enough up that he could hear the city buzzing, most of it intentionally tuned out of his enhanced hearing, but not so much that he couldn’t hear anything. 

The fact that the woman appearing next to him on the ledge was silent enough that he didn’t notice her until she spoke?

Danny fully almost fell off the roof in surprise.

“Hello, young Prince--”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Danny yelped, scrambling as he slipped, flight instantly kicking in to keep him from dropping. 

“No, just me,” Lady Gotham laughed, brushing her skirts down as she sat elegantly next to him. Though he’d never seen her before, he recognized her immediately-- soft, faintly glowing blue eyes over a black 1800’s-era mourning gown, a broach at the delicate lace collar around her throat. She smiled at him as he plopped back down, leaning over to smooth his hair back. “Goodness, you look so much like your father.”

Danny hummed slightly, tilting his head. “You know, I can’t really see it, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Lady Gotham just hummed, gently cupping his cheek as she studied him. “So much like your brother, but I can see the differences clearly. He looks like your mother, but you? Oh, so similar to my beloved Knight-- and not just in looks,” she teased. “You’ve come a long way since Clockwork came to me, telling me that my Knight’s son would need guidance.”

Danny blushed, the tips of his ears going a pale green. “Okay, okay,” he laughed, swinging his feet lazily. “So, you wanted to talk to me, right? Is it regarding the Bats, because I’m really trying to not piss off Batman.”

“In a sense,” Gotham hummed, looking over the city. She’ll point out a section of city, gesturing to the more dilapidated, beat-up buildings. “That section, called Crime Alley--”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not, now let me speak.” Danny’s mouth clicked together so fast you could hear it. “Crime Alley, or Park Row as it is officially called, is the territory of a young liminal, the Red Hood. I believe that he could be a potential Fright Knight for you, but I would ask a favor of you.” Gotham looked back to Danny, worry in her eyes. “He struggles with the corrupted ectoplasm of a Lazarus Pit, and I… I cannot help him. It is all I can do, at times, to provide what clean ectoplasm I can.”

Danny paused, looking towards Park Row contemplatively. “So… this guy’s got basically poison in his system, and you want me to go put him on basically a juice cleanse?”

“More or less,” Gotham acknowledged with a shrug. “You do rather have the tendency to cleanse the ectoplasm in your immediate area.”

“Fair.” Danny got to his feet, stretching lazily. “Okay, but a favor for a favor. Please, if you get the opportunity… Let me know if the Bats are getting too close, okay? I really don’t want to have to hash out the legality of my existence with my own dad.” He reached out, offering the City Spirit his hand. “I’ve had my fair share of awkward family dinners, but that would take the cake.”

“I will abide by your request, but do remember-- they are family,” Gotham says softly, taking his hand and gliding to her feet on the ledge. “Trust in them, and you will see it is not misplaced.”

The Prince smiled.

===

Damian, frankly, hated this goddamned family. It all started with a text from Gordon, making a joke about a “secret lost brother” and a photo posted in a chat with the so-called BatClan.

It was obvious that the clone - for in fact, what else could it be, Danyal was long-since dead - was a poor, failed attempt at getting into Damian’s head. The eye color was off, the freckles in the wrong places. And really, Danyal would have better fashion sense than that.

No, it was clear Talia was doing her best to “test” him, though… really, he’d thought they’d moved on from clones at this point. Holding the memory of his dead twin over his head, and not even having the decency to do it correctly?

Now that was just rude.

Wayne Family Dumbasses:

Captain Stabby: Obviously this is a clone, and a poor attempt at it.

Captain Stabby: to think, the great Oracle has fallen so far.

Eyeinthesky: you sure about that, baby bat?

Eyeinthesky: you really wanna say that?

Captain Stabby: I believe I may have made a mistake.

===

No time like the present, taunted the green sticky note on Danny’s laptop screen. 

No time like the present his ass, Danny grumbled as he shuffled a few things onto his person. Day One of Gotham City, and he needed to investigate. He grabbed a jacket and a bookbag from his suitcase, tossing his computer, a thermos, a few emergency shots of ecto, and a good-sized ecto-pistol in easy reach, set to stun mode. First things first, Danny needed some Ancients-Damned coffee, and if he’d learned one thing, it was that cities were stuffed to the brim with coffee shops. 

“Jazz, I’m gonna go get some coffee and research,” he said softly, poking his head into Jazz's suite. “You want anything?”

A mop of red hair peeked up just barely over the edge of the decidedly-too-fluffy comforter. “...latte. Croissant.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“...locator,” his sister said after a moment’s consideration, muffled by the goose-down pillow. “Keep it on.”

“Obviously,” he chuckled, closing the door behind him quietly before slipping out of the hotel room, tossing his bag over his shoulder after one last check. The hotel was quiet at this time of morning, hardly after five, not quite daybreak, but the city outside? Oh, it was beautiful-- people walking briskly down the sidewalks, cars honking and revving and swerving around each other. Danny’s ears twitched slightly, his head tilted to the side before he pulled out his phone. 

“Coffee shop, coffee shop… Aha, here we go.” A mom-and-pop shop, a little ways down the road. Enough for a good walk. Danny plugged his earbuds in, turning on a playlist before putting his hands in his pockets. It only took a few minutes before he arrived, tugging out an earbud and pausing the objectively-too-loud punk rock playlist. “Uh, hi, so this is kind of a weird question, but… what’s the legal amount of caffeine you’re able to give me?”

“I don’t think there’s a legal limit, but you can only get, like, twelve shots I think,” the barista hummed thoughtfully. “Your shots would taste horrible, though-- doesn’t stop one of our regulars, though. I can get you one of his drinks?”

“Sure, why not. New city and all that,” Danny laughed, digging for some cash in his wallet. “I’m just here on business for a little while.”

The barista raised her eyebrow. “You seem pretty young to be on business.”

“Family business,” Danny clarified, handing over the money. “Oh, and can I get a caramel latte and a croissant?” 

Twenty minutes later, Danny was given a freshly-baked croissant and latte, and an absolutely terrifying-looking concoction. An iced coffee with the slightest bit of milk and sugar, so full of espresso that the milk hardly made a dent in the color. 

Danny took a sip, grinned, and left a 10 dollar bill on the counter before he headed out.

The barista just stared, then shook her head. “Fucking Waynes, am I right?” she muttered to her colleague, getting a laugh.

===

After delivering the latte to a decidedly grumpy not-morning-person Jazz Fenton, Danny pretty damn quickly booked it out of the hotel, idly checking his Twitter as he walked down the street, sipping on his latte. There was a local trending tab, and… well, shit.

 A decent quality photo of him paying for the coffee, his hair up out of his face in just. The worst possible shot for his plan to lay low. Already the hashtag #newwayne had 200,000+ tags, primarily users gossiping between each other with a few gossip magazines speculating. 

Really. One photo.

One.

Let it never be said that Danny, a fifteen year old idiot, had impulse control. He took a quick selfie, grinning as he took a sip of his coffee.  @halfdead : man, i just wanted a coffee.  TAGLIST: @mynameisnotlaura @fisticuffsatapplebees @screamingtofillthevoid @lizisipancardo @digitizedworld @dahliasandrosemary

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