#i’m going to embroider the second one on a hat

[scrambldmeg]

i’m starting a collection

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 8) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies (kind of)-> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, McLaren, bad jokes

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: I tried out some different writing styles this chapter and candidly, I’m not sure it’s my best work. There are more scenes from DR’s perspective and I found out that writing race dialogue is very difficult. I tried to stay true to the actual Abu Dhabi 2022. Please bear with me through this chapter, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Please, thank you, and enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

When you arrived at the paddock, Daniel was still distracting himself by taking pictures of literally everything, including the ground. You let him be though, no matter how silly it seemed. The last thing he needed was to psych himself out before the race. As you approached, the McLaren PR crew was already waiting with cameras to get content for the last Unboxed video of the season which was your cue to peel off.

“How are you feeling?” you asked hesitantly, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from your client.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll feel different once the suit’s on, but right now I’m good.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” He caught the seriousness in your tone and found it endearing you were being so protective of him. It seemed you were more nervous than he was.

“Actually, hold on,” he stopped walking.

“What? Is everything alright? Oh-” *click* “Daniel!” He laughed at your disgruntled expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m fine, promise. I’ll see you after the race.” He gave you a polite pat on the shoulder as he began to walk away, but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach and pulled him in for a big hug before you could second guess yourself. He didn’t think twice as he wrapped his arms around you. You quickly released him, reinstating the arm’s length between you.

“Good luck today, you’re going to do great,” you said as you composed yourself. He walked backwards continuing your extended goodbye, unable to look away from you.

“I know,” he said, with a cocky smile plastered on his face. *click*

You snorted, your stoicism overpowered by his charm. You waved one last time as a sendoff before he disappeared into McLaren hospitality.   

-

As usual with race day, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Daniel exchanged helmets with Lando and Zhou, sat for photos with the team, sat for photos with the grid. He tried to take in every detail. He laughed when he walked in the garage and saw his mechanics donning cowboy hats embroidered with “yee-haw thanks DR” and the outline of him doing a shoey.

Everyone seemed to think he would be walking around as though he were attending his own funeral, but for the moment he felt he didn’t have much to be sad about. He needed a break – from the spotlight, from McLaren, from training, from racing in general, and there was no shame in that. In twelve hours that break would become a reality, and that was something to be very happy about.

When it came time to change into his race suit, he waited with baited breath for the garment to exert some kind of magical force over him. He stood in his drivers room waiting for the tears, or nerves, or something. Everyone told him it would hit him when he put the suit on. But he examined himself in the mirror, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. Power pose. No, he was still the same Daniel Ricciardo, despite what people tried to tell him. And this was just another race.

It was less than ideal starting P13 due to a three-place grid penalty carried over from the Brazilian Grand Prix after his run-in with Yuki, but Daniel pushed aside all the growing frustrations as he waited eagerly for the lights to change, feeling his pulse sync with the idled roar of the engine. The few seconds before the race played out in slow motion, as they always did. The rest of the pressures of the moment faded away as he focused on what was in front of him, ready to react. He was at peace, and allowed himself to feel the overwhelming therapeutic emptiness. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s lights out and away we go!

He survived the first lap shuffle and chaos, but lost a position to Lance. There was still plenty of race left though, and his goal first and foremost was a clean race without a DNF. Making it through the first few clustered laps unscathed was step one. Once the pack started to disperse, he began his grueling climb back to the points.

Here comes Daniel Ricciardo on the inside of Schumacker, gaining a place back.

It was lonely for a while. He extended his lead from Mick, but couldn’t seem to fully catch up to Lance. Lance pitted on lap 14, as expected with mediums if going for a two-stop strategy, allowing Daniel to gain a position. It subsequently opened up the floodgates, others shortly following suit bringing Daniel up to P8. He knew he would have to pit eventually, but if he could just nurse this set a bit longer and maintain this position as long as possible, he had a shot to finish in the points.  

Lap 18, Daniel Ricciardo still hasn’t pitted yet.

Even in the last race, it shouldn’t have surprised him that McLaren would try to short stick him one last time. Good riddance he would be done with this circus in an hour. George passed him, as he expected in better machinery and on fresher tires.

He finally pitted on lap 20, switching to hards. The team did a great job with a 2.3 second pit stop but he came out in P18. He had a job to do, it was time to get to work.

Daniel Ricciardo, down in 18th place. Making some overtakes and having a bit of fun. Makes a lovely move on Kevin Magnusson going into Turn 9.

In quick succession, he picked off Mick and Bottas, Seb pitted, and somehow Alonso DNF’d. Before he knew it, he was back to where he started in P13.

Fernando Alonso has not had the best of luck, our first retirement of this evening. Mechanical failure. That is a real shame for him, real shame. Meanwhile, here comes Sebastian Vettel! Haven’t said that in a while. Very nice move on Pierre Gasly.

News at Alpine that there’s some water leak, that was why they had to pull Fernando in. He feels the unreliability there has cost him nearly seventy points during the course of this season. Since he came back to Formula One, well, the reunion with Alpine then Renault has ended in retirement. Sad for all parties. And this means that Fernando Alonso has been beaten by his teammate, Esteban Ocon. But I’ll tell you a bit more about that later, as Daniel Ricciardo manages to get past the Alfa Romeo of Zhou Guanou.   

He encroached on Alex, smelling blood in the water. Even though Alex nicked the wall, he maintained the position longer than he thought. He had to respect the work the kid was doing in that tractor trailer of a Williams. The track conditions were cooling as the sun set, making it difficult to regulate the temperature of the tires.

Daniel Ricciardo trying down the inside there on Alex Albon. Now you saw what happened in Mexico when he tried that on an unsuspecting Yuki Tsunoda and they came together, but this time around they managed to keep apart. But uh, for McLaren they need to start clearing a few cars here. Norris is seventh. Ricciardo out of the points. Albon now pits.

He wished he could have overtaken Alex properly, but he wasn’t complaining as he gained another position. The second stoppers continued, moving his way up to P9. He could breathe a bit now that he was officially in the points. But it was short lived as his friend, former teammate, and mentor had popped up in his rearview, more than two seconds behind, but quickly closing the gap. There were still fifteen laps requiring him to preserve the tires while defending his position.

Sebastian Vettel is gaining a bit on Daniel Ricciardo in tenth place. Ten laps to go.

He almost missed the second Aston Martin in his rearview as Lance passed both of them. He shared Seb’s frustration that they were the sacrificial lambs of their respective teams testing out the one-stop strategy. He was still in the points for now, but Seb was an admirable adversary and with only seven laps left in the race he would not take the position for granted. With officially one second between them, he had to push. They were both on very old tires, but Seb’s were younger.

The two leavees, Ricciardo and Vettel. Vettel’s closing in on Ricciardo, and he’s going to get him in the next lap or so if the current pace keeps up. Five laps to go in the Formula One season, 2022.

And oh my God, what’s this? Hydraulic problem for Hamilton, as you can see as Carlos Sainz passes Lewis who’s still stuck in seventh gear! This might be curtains for Lewis Hamilton this evening. He’s got it down into fifth gear – oh. Oh no, this is disappointing.

As was the nature of racing, he wasn’t going to question his adversary’s misfortune. With a mechanical failure taking Lewis out, he moved back into P9. He was so close to the finish line he could taste it, but Seb was still less than a second behind.

The final lap. He saw the fireworks go off for Max, but he couldn’t lose focus.

Daniel Ricciardo under immense pressure from Sebastian Vettel. This is going to go all the way to the wire.

There’s twelve million dollars on Sebastian Vettel trying to overtake Daniel Ricciardo here, twelve million dollars if they can get extra points at Aston Martin to see if they can get above Alfa Romeo in the Constructor’s Championship. Is it Ricciardo or Vettel? Nineth or tenth? Both drivers leaving as of the end of this season. Ricciardo potentially to go as a reserve driver at Red Bull. Sebastian Vettel waving goodbye to Formula One and giving us thrills and excitement right to the checkered flag! Is he going to get past Daniel Ricciardo? It’s going to be close!

Ricciardo takes that nineth place, Sebastian Vettel scores tenth in his final race! And well, what did he say? “Remember these times, they might not last forever.” Sebastian, thank you. The memories definitely will.   

Daniel's jaw unclenched to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in that moved his whole chest, shoulders relaxing. He barely had time to process what he had just accomplished when his engineers came on the radio.

“Yes mate, P9. Good job. Finished in the points. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Cheers guys, that was, uh, that was fun at the end. Think we did well to hold him off, well done. That was good.”

“Great race buddy. Great overtaking, that was a proper Honey Badger show, that was good.”

He bit his tongue. He could only be so pleasant to the people who had diminished his confidence over the last two years. Having officially crossed the finish line of his last race, he would remain polite and cordial but didn’t feel the need to suck up to them more than he needed to.    

“Daniel, could I have Purple Default 64X. And if you could go back to Purple C1.”

He did as he was told, unphased by the short radio congratulations. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when a picture of his win at Monza last year popped up with the rest of the team. The memory of that day came flooding back and the feelings that went along with it. The triumph he finally felt. The renewed sense of hope for what may come with the rest of his tenure with McLaren. The Daniel in the picture had no idea he would basically be kicked out of the sport he loved so much in less than a year. He had no idea he would fall out of love with it, even as he was just starting to get his groove back.  

“That’s cool,” he chuckled. “That’s really nice, thank you guys.”

“Cheers buddy. It’s been an honor, Daniel. It’s been an honor, really great good two years.” He hated the lump he felt in his throat. “I know we haven’t always had the results we’ve wanted, but we’ve had some pretty good ones along the way. And uh, I think I speak for everyone on the team when I say how much we’ve all enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed thickly, praying no one had eyes on the front facing camera in the car.

“Yeah, appreciate your efforts. Thank you…Alright, it’s nice to finish in the points. Well done guys. Thank you.” He did his best to switch the conversation back to race at hand, taking away the focus of the gravity and finality of the situation. Looking at it in isolation, away from the totality of the last two years, it was a good race. He continued to drive and wave around the track, doing some donuts here and there, but the gestures felt empty.

“Ok, so into the pit lane, and when you turn the engine off then go to P0. Kill the car and switch everything off.” The back of his eyes began to sting. Switch everything off.

“Understood. Uh, alright guys.” There was so much he wanted to say but he was never good with words, especially not at this moment. “Thank you. I think you know…how much I appreciate your efforts over the last two years. So… thank you.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but felt his voice crack. “And thanks for this display, on Purple C64. Cheers.”

“Yeah, 03 we weren’t really able to use I’m afraid.” He knew the engineers were only talking about the mechanical configurations, but the words felt like a gut punch. They were done with him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The feelings he had waited for all day, the ones everyone expected, suddenly hit him like an avalanche. He wanted to get out of the car desperately, but couldn’t do so when he was a mess like this. It was probably the last time for the rest of the night that he would have any time to be by himself with just his thoughts. It was done – and he realized again after taking a few moments to compose himself, maybe for now that was a good thing. What was it Seb had said?

“There are a lot more important things than racing in circles.”

He jumped out of the car, feeling the impact of the gravel below his feet. He stretched his limbs, finally free from the confines of the cockpit and was hit by a wave of relief that washed over him. He was free from expectations, restrictive diets, constant jet lag. Free from McLaren. All he had to do was get into his ugly orange team kit one last time for post-race interviews. He knew he would be asked hard questions, about his past and his future, but he was ready. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, had many things to be proud of. You’re the only driver to have won in that brick of a car in the last ten years you constantly reminded him. He finished the season on a high, including a great race battle with Seb. He was done hiding, done minimizing.

So he went from interview to interview, unafraid to be honest with himself and the world. It’s ok to admit that he’s had a hard time the last two years, that he’s happy to be taking some time away from the sport and to take care of his mental health.

He slowly made his way back to the McLaren garage as he pushed through the crowd, dodging fans trying to get selfies and autographs, politely declining additional interviews and comments from strangers. In a sea of blurred faces, he spotted you. One of the mechanics had gifted you an extra celebratory cowboy hat and you appeared to be in deep conversation with one of them. Your hands moved around animatedly as you spoke, like they always did when you were passionate about something. The mechanic laughed, and he wondered what joke you had told or whether you had said something unintentionally funny. He found himself smiling, excited to get the answer.

The mechanic noticed him first and waved. He touched your shoulder and pointed in Daniel’s direction. You squinted as you searched the crowd with intense focus. Daniel’s heart nearly exploded when your eyes finally landed on him – you waved eagerly with the biggest, brightest smile on your face that put all the track lights and fireworks to shame.

The mechanic gave him a quick hug and pat on the back first, adding a subtle wink for good measure before walking away, seemingly aware of the need for the two of you to have your own space. For the second time that day, you engulfed each other in a warm, firm hug that perhaps lasted a beat too long. He liked how you perched on your tip toes to get your head as close to the crook of his neck as possible. He liked the feeling of your small, delicate hands on his back. He liked that he could smell your hair products, distinct from the scent of your perfume, sweet florals and jasmine contrasting accents of patchouli and bergamot. He liked you.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, you were amazing today,” you gushed.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing that the flush he felt in his cheeks wasn’t from the race.  

“How are you feeling now?” you asked sincerely. He took a moment to think on it before answering.

“I’m not sure. Good I think, but tired.”

“That’s valid.”

“How was your day?” It was an innocent question, so he was confused when you laughed. He was just trying to make conversation. “What?”

“You just had your last race of the season and you’re officially getting out of your contract with McLaren tomorrow, and you’re asking me how my day went?” He shrugged.

“I’ve already talked about myself more than enough today. I want to hear about you.” Your laugh lines softened.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t have to work, I met Usher, and I got to watch my friend’s last F1 race and he kicked so much butt. So I’d say it was pretty great.” His heart skipped a beat. Friend.

“You met Usher?” He glossed over the other stuff, unable to trust himself if you delved any further into the topic.

“Yeah, he was hanging out in the McLaren garage. Did not have that on my 2022 bingo card. But uh…” a sheepish grin grew on your face. “I don’t think he appreciated I kept dropping his lyrics in casual conversation.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, and the smile on your face grew.

“Y’know… just when I thought I said all I could say, he was like…yeah. And he also said -”

“Hold on let me guess,” he said between giggles. “You remind him of a girl he once knew.”

“You know…you would not believe all the things she put him through,” you said, joining him in laughter. He observed you playing with your hands behind your back, your chest puffed slightly, clearly finding great joy in your own corny jokes.

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll perform at the McLaren afterparty.” The words rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to think about what he was asking of you. It was one thing to go out with some of the other drivers offsite, but a McLaren sponsored event when you had been their adversary only a short few months ago was less than appropriate.

“You’ll have to let me know.” His heart fell a little, not missing the polite decline of his subtle invitation. He didn’t want to admit how much he truly needed you there. But he was on a roll with this whole honesty thing, so he bore his soul to you.

“I don’t want to go,” he said in a low voice, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I’m tired and I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend the night celebrating with these people. I can barely look half of them in the eye.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had begged for anything. He hoped his plea would be convincing enough, but you only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll be ok. Lando will be there, and there are plenty of people in your garage that had nothing to do with the decisions Zak or Andrea made. You still have people in your corner. Lots of them. And they want to celebrate with you.” He closed his eyes as you encouragingly rubbed the side of his arm, but finished with a firm pat. “Chin up. You’re almost done.”

Right. The race was only half the battle he would face today. Until the end of the day, he was still an employee of McLaren.

“Will you come pick me up if the kids at school are mean to me?” He always used humor as a defense mechanism, but he hated how much truth there was in the metaphor. You leaned in close to whisper your reassurance, a calm pleasantness in your shadow of a smile. You spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I will commit a felony and make it look like an accident if anyone is mean to you.” He was left grinning from ear to ear when you pulled away, your quiet resolve contagious as he felt his anxiety melt away. “You got this, and I promise I will celebrate with you after everything is signed tomorrow.” You extended your pinky, and he gladly linked his with yours in a solemn vow.

“Fuck ‘em all, yeah?”

“Fuck ‘em all.”

-

You sat in bed freshly showered, full body shaved, and facemask on. You felt guilty as hell sending your client off to the lion’s den with no support, so you had gone straight back to the hotel once he was out of sight. There was no need to go to the Amber Lounge or anything, not that you would even be able to get in without Daniel. Besides, you had your own personal Super Bowl tomorrow that you needed to be prepared for. You had ordered room service and shot off a few emails when you heard a knock. You checked the time – it was nearly midnight. You wrapped yourself in the cozy hotel robe for modesty before checking the peephole. To your confusion, but not surprise, you saw Daniel standing by himself in the hallway.

“Hi?” He looked up, admiring your frame in the doorway. You were just as beautiful in a robe and slippers as you were in a LBD and Louboutins. He bit his lip for a moment, clearly holding back a smile.

“Hi. Uh, I think you got something-” he trailed off, lightly brushing the tip of his nose with his finger.

“What? Oh! Fuck. Right.” You turned around to quickly rip the nose strip off your face. You winced, feeling the sting of the adhesive. You did your best to hide your discomfort and embarrassment with a smile when you turned back around. “Sorry about that. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah. I figure I showed enough face for the evening. Plus big day tomorrow, right?” You nodded, unsure where this exchange was going as he fidgeted in place. “Also…” he looked around cautiously. “I didn’t want to get caught stealing this.” He pulled a bottle of very expensive champagne from behind his back, proudly presenting it to you. Your jaw dropped and morphed into a giant grin in spite of the arguably illegal activities that had transpired.

“You didn’t…For me?” You grabbed the bottle from him, feelings goosebumps form when your fingers brushed. “Wait. If I accept this, does it make me an accomplice or accessory after the fact?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.” He took a step forward.

“Well. I’m not going to say no to a free drink I suppose,” you said, examining the bottle in your hands. He cleared his throat.

“I figured we could enjoy it after tomorrow – or, I mean, you could enjoy it,” he took another step forward. For reasons unknown, he seemed to lose confidence as the gap between you narrowed.

You looked back up at him, inspecting his condition. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, but he was far from being wasted which you were pleasantly surprised about given his apprehensions going into the evening. It either meant he wasn’t leaning on alcohol to handle his emotions, or he was taking tomorrow’s signing very seriously, or both. Whichever one it was, it demonstrated restraint and growth and you were proud of him for it. Admittedly, you had also been nervous leaving him to his own devices for the evening. You had wanted to go with him, to be there for emotional support. You had relied on the rationale that it was a McLaren sponsored event, but at this point the two of you had a consistent track record of blurring the lines of professionalism and friendship whenever you went out together. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him – you didn’t trust yourself.

But the man standing in front of you was composed and mature (relatively speaking, of course). Perhaps a little nervous, as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. But nevertheless, even after the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil of the day, he stood before you with respect and poise. Yes, you trusted yourself with him wholeheartedly.  

You took a step back, opening the door wider.

“How about we enjoy it now?”

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[bg-brainrot]

Second winter fluff prompt for the BG3 Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Ice and Snow

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Love at First Knife, on AO3 here

Premise: Astarion is always cold, used to a nocturnal lifestyle and a distinct lack of blood in his veins. However you, the sad little mortal, are not prepared for the winter’s chill. When you experience your first snowfall together, Astarion makes it his personal mission to ensure that you’re bundled up.

Tags: Fluff, POV Second person, Gender-neutral pronouns, Post-Canon

Word count: ~1.1k

“Astarion, please,” you say, voice muffled behind a thick, knitted scarf. “You’re completely overreacting.”

The vampire tuts at you, as he deposits a fur-lined hat upon your head, and a few dangling tassels tickle your ears. “Now darling, what did I tell you about fighting me on this?”

“That you would tie me up and–”

“No, the other thing,” he interrupts, though a salacious smile comes over him at the thought.

“Oh. That you wouldn’t let me make a snow celestial…” you sound dejected, and you downcast your eyes to appear pitiable.

Astarion, for his part, only finds joy in your reaction, a delighted giggle being his only response.

“What about you?” you challenge, as he tries to shimmy another coat onto your already quite padded frame. "You were just complaining about the cold the other day!"

“I’m coldblooded, my dear. And you know I only complain for the attention,” he says, kneeling down to lace your boots for you. If you tried to bend down right now, you’re certain you’ll fall over in a pile of furs and fluff. “I shall be just fine with my current coat.” He’s currently wearing a fitted red winter coat, an embroidered pattern of roses in gold along its sleeves and collar– the epitome of a dashing man, next to your shambling mound.

“Stupid, sexy vampire,” you mutter under your breath. He only laughs and places yet another scarf around your neck.

Satisfied with his work, he takes a step back. “Would you look at that, my scary assassin is all ready to go outside,” he says, a bright smile on his face.

You level him with a murderous look, which loses some of its effect considering the scarves currently blocking your mouth. “I’ll show you scary,” you mumble, ready to attack your lover. You find that difficult now though, considering a slow shuffle is all that you can maintain.

He pays your death glares no mind, as he tucks one delicate little scarf around his own neck and declares that he’s ready to go outside as well.

You wobble after him, feeling nothing like the intimidating rogue you’re supposed to be. But you suppose if it means he won’t stop your snow celestials, some sacrifices, like your pride, must be made.

The first snowfall along the Sword Coast is always among the most beautiful and this year is no exception. Once you’ve made your way outside, you find yourself surrounded by a winter wonderland.

Pockets of snow line your roof, several inches of snow surround your house in every direction, and a light smattering of snow falls upon you now. You wish you could feel it, but between all of the layers, you only guess that it’s light and powdery– perfect for snow celestials.

Astarion peers around at the world, seeming rather unimpressed. “Well, isn’t that lovely. The ground is white.”

You ignore his lackluster response to the bounty of snow before you and make your way past him to the yard. With more of a stumble than a step, you fall into a particularly open patch of snow in front of your house. A puff of white snow explodes around you as you land, and you breathe out a single, “Oof.”

“Love, was that… on purpose?” Astarion asks, not far behind you.

“Mmhm,” you mumble into the snow. A backwards snow celestial it is. With all of the effort you can muster, you wave your arms and legs into the shape of wings and, well, whatever celestials had in place of legs. You can feel yourself overheating from the bundle of clothes surrounding you, but you’re determined to make this look good and ensure that Astarion understands that this is lovely.

After your exertions, you stop moving for a bit, just laying there in the impression of your snow celestial. Astarion, who’s likely been watching you this entire time, calls out, “Are you alright, dear?”

You raise your hand into a gloved thumbs up.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“Mhhhmmmm,” you groan into the snow. Your nose is starting to get cold and your sweat is chilling over.

“Alright then,” he responds, and you feel his legs carefully step around you, his arms tugging you onto your back and hoisting you up. Once you’re on your feet, your lover frowns at you and begins dusting you off with determination. “Darling, look at you. You’re going to get soaked to the bone with how much snow you’re covered in.”

“And whose fault is that?” you grumble at him.

“Yours, for insisting on the snow celestial,” he retorts, flicking your nose with his index finger.

That reminds you– You look down at your imprint in the snow, see what all of this unpleasant combination of cold and sweat got you. It’s a little lopsided, and both your and Astarion’s boots have left several footprints in the center, but it’s a solid attempt.

Brimming with pride at your work, you look to Astarion. “See? Look at how radiant my celestial looks.”

Astarion takes a look as well, and you can see the stifled laughter begging to come out.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” you say, pointing a stern finger at him.

He promptly defies you, as a hearty chuckle escapes him. “Sorry, dearest, but the hat you’re wearing makes it look like some kind of beholder.”

You look down to see that the tassels to your hat must have flung around as you moved, creating a crown of what could really only be described as eyestalks. “Well then. A snow aberration. I’m not picky,” you respond with a shrug.

Astarion smiles at you, open affection coloring his gaze, before he pulls you into a wide hug. “Fantastic work, love. Your talent is unmatched. And maybe– just maybe– it was worth all of the effort.”

You lean into him and his praise and say, “I suppose I should thank you for making sure I stayed warm.”

“Oh no need,” he says, squeezing you tightly. “Seeing you look like a large marshmallow is truly its own reward.” He drops his voice an octave and adds, “And somehow you still manage to look utterly enticing.”

You can barely feel his movements through the layers between you, so when he abruptly begins dragging you back to the house you give a surprised yelp. “What are you doing?”

“Your snow creature is done, now comes my favorite part– taking all of these layers off,” you catch Astarion’s quick wink before you’re ungracefully pulled after him.

There’s snow between your scarves, your toes have begun to chill, and fresh new snow is falling on your face, but somehow his words still warm you. “Was this your plan all along?”

“Naturally, my love. You know I would do anything to keep you warm,” his tone is innocent, the lidded eyes he gives you anything but. He must catch the flush covering your face because he laughs a melodic trill. “I’m starting to think I quite like wintertime.”

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 63 - festive occasions in 1924

The only notable festive occasion this season is Rose’s wedding, although that is split into the courthouse wedding and the blessing plus reception. There are several outfit repeats in play there, so only a few characters really get two new outfits to speak of. Heck, Violet doesn’t get any new at all. But speaking of weddings – let’s flashback to Mary’s fashion show for a hot second!

Because, with several of the show’s outfits landing in Mary’s possession, including her outfit for Rose’s wedding, I was almost surprised that the wedding dress they presented didn’t get its big moment later on. Perhaps it was too boring? Because this is very traditionally, typically 1920s. Shapeless, without any showy elements to the cut, relying on drop waist and front embroidery, the veil worn in a way that closely framed the face, covering most of the forehead. The headpiece is a little quirkier though; wish they’d done more with this design element.

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Isobel picked a white outfit just so I can bitch, I guess. Okay, the shirt is cream rather than white, and it’s got some flowers on top, but the jacket is just white crepe. Boring, but Isobel does put a nice hat on it, with the ribbon having some golden trim and even a white peacock feather in it.

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Over to Susan. Well, her reception outfit is a tad better than the suit she wore for the wedding ceremony, in that it isn’t ludicrously big on her, but that’s pretty much where its upsides end. What is that color? Dirty gold? Bleached green? It’s got a little golden lace trim and a nice enough hat, but I’m both on a character level and on a fashion level quite happy to have seen the last of her.

--------------

I don’t remember what Cora wore for the wedding ceremony – was it the blue coat with the diagonal draping? If so, her reception dress is kinda meh by comparison. It’s this little beige number which has a little gathering done to it. So far, so nice. I’m not opposed to the black-and-white flower motif either. It’s just that, when I look at this, I think this neckline could’ve done better, this hat could’ve done better, this half-circle cutout above the drop waist isn’t super flattering. How about a more colorful necklace?

--------------

Lady Sinderby shows up to her son’s wedding in a dress that couldn’t be plainer regarding cut and completely black under layer. And then the upper layer is just. Lace. Lace cuffs? Absolutely. Lace neckline frame? Make it a whole triangle thing. Lace hem? Not enough; we need more lace. Looping around one side and then making its way up the front on the other, it does end up a little asymmetrical for fashion purposes, but these lace designs are very traditional. They have never even touched 1920s art movements. Top it off with a beige straw hat and a handful of black tulle, and off we go.

For the reception, Lady Sinderby is back in her comfort zone – flower-printed chiffon. I won’t complain; the golden-pink color scheme pairs well with the black, and then the pale pink flowers on her hat pick up the theme. This doesn’t catch my interest as the previous lace design did, but it is a well-composed ensemble.

--------------

Mary in a bowtie! This is not an exercise; I repeat: Mary in a bowtie! She doesn’t care for color in her look for the wedding, but the tomboy vibes are back. What a difference a wing collar and a bowtie make – the second picture where she wears the same suit to a typical low-cut women’s shirt doesn’t play at this look at all. Love the big folded lapels, even though the overall impression is a bit grey. I still wish she’d have the back of her hairdo evened out.

She strolls up in slightly more girly silver-champagne silk satin for the reception. I can respect that, even though that blue embroidered square looks a tad disconnected as an element of interest because the other points of blue trim are notably zigzag. I’m wondering if this stuff comes, if not in a set with a hat, then with a hatband, because that seems to be the exact same material, and the shade of the flower is a match, too.

--------------

A simple silver dress for Edith’s reception outfit because they don’t zoom in on her during the wedding ceremony, but I have half a mind that she’s wearing Mithril mesh. I hope this is not as scratchy as it looks, but then it’s just the outer layer. The weave of the mesh has a subtle check pattern to it, and Edith has gotten a matching hatband to make the in and of itself simple hat match this outfit. The little feathers, the pleated bow and the jewel ornament are giving it quite a glow-up. And then she wears earrings matching her necklace; this is a very pretty composition. I seem to like fully white / off-white outfits a great deal better on Edith than on Cora.

--------------

The star of the day strolls up to the wedding ceremony in a pale blue ensemble that I read somewhere was designed entirely around this lace collar, an original with painted flowers on it. They had this to begin with, and then they added more lace to the cuffs of the jacket and the neckline and drop waist of the dress. Also, the dress and jacket themselves have some pretty sweet design elements – why is this huge box pleat in the back? Why are the skirt gores? I don’t know, but I love to look at this. And then the lace hat tops it all off and gives Rose a little bit of a halo which is funny imagery when she’s decidedly not having a church wedding because she’s marrying a Jewish man.

And now for her blessing / reception gown. Possibly the most gorgeous wedding dress on the entire show, definitely the most gorgeous so far, Lily James was stuffed into a 100-year-old original in pristine condition. Admittedly, the fact that it’s from 1918 and not from 1924 shows somewhat in this being designed as a nod to regency fashions. So far into the 1920s, there’s no way you would have gotten around a drop waist. But who wants to complain about this being dated when it serves to make her look so elegant? Rose is surrounded by soft cream chiffon and all these flowers of pale golden sequins, and I’m honestly so in love with how she styled her hair to match this. The roses, the whole flowy silhouette; this is peak.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @rosieathena - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

We’re Really Doing This?

You take some deep breaths. The person in the mirror is you, you know that. Just you, with your hair in perfect waves framing your face, with delicate flowers intertwined in random strands. Just you, with makeup on your face that accentuates all of your features, it doesnt overshadow them. Just you, appearing ethereal even to yourself, a still moment of peace while others bustle around the room behind you. Just you, in a wedding dress.

The diamonds on the delicate silver band wrapped around your ring finger catch the light and distract you momentarily, sending your mind flying at full speed to that exact second. It was December, snow was falling, you and Spencer were in your garden just having a snowball fight before you decided to place some deck chairs in the snow and admire the stars. The thought of you and Spencer all wrapped up in wooly mittens and hats and coats and fluffy blankets, it was enough to make you giggle and shake your head. But then the memory progressed to when Spencer randomly stood up, letting his blanket fall onto the snow, the lights from inside the house casting a glow on half of his face with the shadow of the night claimed the other half. You raised an eyebrow at him, used to his odd antics enough to not question him with words, but still curious. Whatever you thought he was going to do next, you could not have predicted the movements that followed. He gently took your left hand and pulled you up to stand in front of him, carefully removing the mitten from your hand and folding it in his pocket before he lowered himself to one knee. It was then you realised why he hadnt picked up the blanket, he had even orchestrated a detail as small as his knee pressing into that rather than the snow. The question passed his lips and you felt time stop, the scene embroidering itself permanently in your mind so that you couldnt forget a single detail. And then, before even fully returning to yourself, you nodded, tears blurring your vision.

Tears blur your vision again as you think back to it, but you’re quick to lift your gaze to the ceiling and blink them back as to not ruin the hard work of JJ who applied your makeup. The few people in the room bustled around, tidying up the makeup and hair products used to get you ready. Your eyes are drawn back to your reflection, still in disbelief at how beautiful even you can admit you look. Oh, if Spencer had heard you admit that, you think to yourself, bringing a smile to your face. The patterns of your long, lace sleeves hug your arms, as does the soft bodice of the dress, and you conclude that the seams are quite literally holding you in; without them you would have melted to the floor by now. This dress had been one that you had seen on the internet years ago, a link that you’d favourited and returned to on countless occasions when you envisioned your dream wedding. You never once imagined you’d get the chance to wear it, you assumed the customisations would cost far too much, but thankfully you and Spencer were together long enough before the proposal so you had time to save up.

A knock at the door causes you to jolt back to your senses.

“He’s ready!” Derek calls from the other side of the door, and you feel your stomach somersault out of your body.

“So is she!” Penelope calls back as she smiles at you.

Shaking your head at a pace that leaves you dizzy, your best friend laughs and steps closer to you to grab your hand and drag you out of the room, towards an empty hall.

This was one of the first ideas for the wedding that you and Spencer agreed on. Spencer was already in the hall, he came in through a different entrance and is standing on one side of a door so that he couldnt see you. Within a few seconds, you arrive at the other side.

“Love?” Your fiancé whispers through the door as Penelope runs out of the hall squealing.

“Hi.” You squeak, leaning against the door in shock at hearing Spencer, despite knowing in advance he would be there.

The photographer strolls casually into the open hall, his shoes echoing against the wooden floor.

“You guys ready?” He calls out as he sets up his camera in front of the two of you, positioning the shot so that the door is in the centre of the frame with you and Spencer on either side.

“Ready.” Your soon-to-be husband speaks clearly, with confidence, but you know he’s as nervous as you.

“Ready.” You breathe out, nodding to yourself in reassurance.

“Good, let’s get started then!” The photographer grins, his eyes flicking from one side of the door to the other.

Taking another deep breath, you unclench your dress with your right hand, letting it travel round the door shakily until you feel Spencer’s fingers intertwine with yours. Both of you gasp, and the photographer begins snapping pictures. Your left hand snaps over your mouth, your eyes squinting closed as you fight to hold back tears, feeling the edge of Spencer’s suit sleeve on your head and knowing he’s also reacting to feeling your dress sleeve as the sound of his heavy breathing reaches your ears.

“Oh my god!” You cry behind your hand, your words muffled.

“I know!” Spencer gasps back.

He squeezes your hand lightly and you immediately squeeze it in return, the sound of the camera clicking doesnt cross either of your minds.

“Okay guys, I’ve got enough pictures here so Im gonna go carry on getting set up for the main event. Come when you’re ready!” With that, he darts out of the room, leaving you and Spencer gripping each other at the edge of the door, wanting to see each other so badly but understanding it’ll be better to wait.

“So...we’re really doing this?” You ask him, laughing in disbelief.

“I suppose we are!” Spencer laughs with you.

“You’d better go stand up the front, I’ve gotta fix my makeup since I’ve just cried most of it off.” You admit, realising your previous efforts to resist crying had been pointless after all.

Spencer chuckles “Alright sweetheart, meet me at the altar?”

You smile, staring up at the ceiling “I’ll be the one in white.”

His hand reluctantly slips away from yours, and you hear his footsteps travelling further away from you as he leaves through his exit. You take a few moments to collect yourself before you also make your way out, heading back into the open arms of JJ who is waiting to fix your smudged and tear stained face.

The reflection meets you again, but you dont even have to remind yourself that it’s you. She’s smiling, with rosy cheeks and tears that are being wiped away by her friend. She’s relieved, exhilarated, excited.

And most importantly, she’s ready to marry the love of her life.

[annas-hair-donut]

Fanfic ask game: F and/or N!

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Ok, I would copy/paste all of Boom, Clap! and Overheard here. But I'll go with this little bit from Knock on Wood. I'm really proud of this fic in general. It's one of my best in terms of quality and it's also kind of personal. But I love this bit of dialogue because Kristoff is so cocky and I love that. I love how easily they flirt with each other, and I got the pacing just right an it flows well. I also think I did a good job of describing their feelings from Anna's POV. It's a stretch from canon, but I also love that. Like, it's smoother because it's a more subtle nod to canon.

"I was just signing CDs," he shrugged. "I'm a musician; that's how I make money." Then a shit-eating grin took over. “Wait… were you jealous?” “You’re so cocky!” He blushed and said, “That’s a yes.” She pursed her lips and he laughed modestly. “I mean, you basically admitted you’re attracted to me.” Her cheeks heated up and she huffed. Her refolded arms definitely weren't fooling him, though. “It’s not one of the many reasons you turned me down.” Then he looked across the room and said, “I thought you didn’t like being anyone’s second choice?” Anna's face dropped when she saw Hans dancing with a woman in a hot pink chiffon dress who didn’t know where to put her espadrilled feet. She knew where to put her lips, though. "That who you're here with?" he asked with stifled laughter. Anna rolled her eyes and looked back at him. “Whatever.” He chuckled before asking, “Hey, what’s your name?” “Anna.” He tipped his burnt orange baseball hat with a white longhorn embroidered on the front at her. Then he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Anna. I’m Kristoff.” Anna took his hand reluctantly and waited for him to lead her to the dance floor. But he sat down next to her and ordered a Lone Star instead. She followed his bobbing Adam’s apple as he tipped his beer back. “I thought you were going to ask me to dance,” she teased before casually sipping some water. “Song’s halfway over," he shrugged. "I want a whole dance with you.” Anna felt a fever come on; even the icy water didn't help. “Plus, I like to get to know a person before jumping into anything.” “That’s the cockiest thing you’ve said all night." He grinned. “Maybe. It’s working, though, isn’t it?” Anna took another sip of her water to hide her blush. She was about ready to take him home with her. “Yeah, it’s working,” he teased. She hated that he was right, but she smiled anyway. "So, I'm going to Little Longhorn Saloon tomorrow." Anna's body tingled but she finally asked, "Chicken shit bingo?" He smiled and felt his pockets until he produced the Sharpie he used to sign his CDs before writing his number on a slightly damp napkin. He tented his fingers on the napkin before sliding it over. “So, here’s the thing; I’m no one’s second choice either.” Anna peered over the napkin at him and didn’t blink. “Well, ok, then,” he said with a million-dollar smile. Then he took off his ratty hat with curved, tattered bill and set it on top of the napkin. He knocked three times on the wooden bar and held his hand out. “Do you wanna dance, Anna?”

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

This is such an easy question. There's 2.

One is the fic that made me want to write fanfic in the first place. It's still one of my favorite fics and I reread it every 6 months of so. The Ice Sculptor by feistypants. Seriously, everyone go read it.

The other is All I Really Want by @anywhozits. This is the other fic that has been most influential on me. Even though it's not finished, it's still well worth the read and I highly recommend it.

[blnk338]

I figured out this personality test and I’d like to see what Reaper gets!

would Nadya be a big game hunter or trophy fisher? (I’m also curious to know Rigos choice as well!)

i dont think rigo or reaper care much for big game hunting, but I'm a firm believer in the idea that rigo demands they go on a weekend getaway to tahoe or something (can you even fish at lake tahoe? idk you can now) and he spends like hundreds of dollars on gear they'll use just the one time

...

...

...

[unedited]

"You're an ass."

"It's a man thing! We're manly!"

"How is sitting around for four hours for some fish to bite a metal thing, manly?" Reaper sighed, adjusting the bucket hat over her head as she climbed in the boat after him. Clad in sunglasses, a stupid fishing hat with the text "fishing to avoid my bitch wife" embroidered across the front, plus the most heinous tan cargo shorts ever; Reaper was right as rain to fish. Rigo, on the other hand, bought "tactical" fishing shorts and a "tactical" fishing vest and a "tactical"-- you get the idea. "What are we catching then? Sturgeon?"

"You think there are sturgeon in this lake?!" He laughed out loud as his friend began to paddle them into the center of the sunny body of water. "I don't know. I'm not really a fish expert. It's not like they have much to say."

"That's so offensive."

"Like, at least sharks are cool. They're like big sea puppies. Stupid and bite you sometimes." Rigo, excited that she brought it up, happily grinned her way. "And I appreciate you appreciating them, but there aren't any sharks up here, just trout and stuff!"

She sighed loudly and kept paddling as Rigo continued to set up the rods. "Still, I think we're gonna come out of this with nothing and you're going to be disappointed."

"You're being a negative Nancy."

"I'm floored by your insult." About ten more minutes of paddling and she was wiped, landing them in the middle of the lake as they threw their lines out. One second passed. Two seconds passed. Three seconds passed.

"...Riveting, really."

"Shut up!!" Rigo yelled, his own hat taking up the entire fucking sun, adjusting his glasses. "Now we sit, wait, and be patient and happy-- we're bonding!"

But four sandwiches and two sodas later, Reaper was passed the fuck out after about three hours of gossip and shit-talking with her friend, quietly dozing off.

Tug, tug.

Rigo, who was just about to lightly smack her, jumped and started to reel in his catch. Leaning left, right, left again, pulling back, releasing, all the shaking began to wake Reaper up. Glasses falling slightly off her face, they shot open as she watched her friend pull in a massive trout. Beaming ear to ear, Rigo held up his prize, albeit slippery in his fingers, grinning with pride.

Sure, did Reaper fall asleep? Yeah. But did she manage to catch Rigo's joy just in the nick of time? Absolutely. At the end of the day, she enjoyed the trip, and the fish, and Rigo knew it deep down.

this was rigos hat btw

[ravendruid]

Be In My Eyes - Chapter 8

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. This is a big one with some emotional scenes (at least for me). I know it might be a sensitive subject to some people, so I'd like to issue a content warning for mention of dead parents. I added a second warning before it starts, and after it ends, in case anyone wants to skip that part. Thank you so much for reading this. It means a lot to me <3

Greyskull Keep was first and foremost a student dormitory, even if in the shell of an apartment building, and like any other college dorms, not a lot of money and thought was put into its furnishing: the appliances were good enough so that the students didn’t have to worry about finding repairs, and the cabinets and counters built from cheap wood materials. That said, Keyleth was still glad to have a fully furnished kitchen she could cook in, even if a small one.

One of the things Keyleth loved the most about holidays was gathering her family and cooking with her dad, so it was bittersweet to see the display in front of her: half of the island was covered with an assortment of vegetables and other ingredients for the main meal, and the other half had everything that Vax needed for his pumpkin pie.

“It has been a while since I’ve cooked,” Vax admitted nervously. He had changed into an older set of clothes, albeit still black, and was wearing Keyleth’s pastel yellow apron with embroidered bees and flowers of all colors.

“It’s just like riding a bicycle,” Keyleth grinned at him as she started cutting the squash on the counter in front of her.

“Is this a bad time to mention that I don’t know how to ride a bicycle?” Vax chuckled nervously, holding the bag of flour in one hand and a measuring cup in the other.

“Oh, no.” Keyleth looked at him in amusement. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn’t learn until I was ten.” She admitted with a blush, and Vax snickered in reply.

 One of the first things Keyleth noticed as they started cooking was that Vax was really handy with a knife. The second thing she noticed about him was that he always managed to make a mess regardless of what he was doing. After Vax spilled flour and sugar on the floor a few times, his pumpkin pie was finally ready to go in the oven, and he set it aside so he could quickly clean up the mess he had made.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked Keyleth with a smile. 

“Here,” Keyleth handed him a bowl of potatoes. “Can you cut these into cubes without making a mess?”

“For you?” Vax leaned in closer, his hand resting on hers on the knife handle, making Keyleth’s stomach jump. “They will be perfectly cut and not a single drop on the floor.”

Altogether, it barely took two hours to have a fully finished meal on the table, which Vex’ahlia had decorated with napkins, candles, and a small centerpiece shaped like a black witch’s hat with purple ribbon and a wooden flying broom leaning on it. Displayed proudly in the center was the main dish, a large vegetable casserole that Keyleth had worked hard on, and around it were several other smaller sides, like gratin potatoes – which Vax had kept his word and not a single drop had fallen to the floor –, butternut squash and apple salad with dried cranberries, and spicy cauliflower rice.

“Keyleth, this is amazing,” Vex said with a smile.

“It smells so good. You did an amazing job,” Vax clapped her shoulder with a smirk. 

“T-thank you, guys.” Seeing the twins’ awed faces was a much better reward than Keyleth had ever hoped for. “Let’s eat!”

“So, Keyleth, how do you usually spend your Harvest’s Close?” Vex asked, spooning a large serving of casserole onto her plate.

“The town where I’m from, Zephrah, hosts a big, shared festival every year where all the farmers and producers of the area bring their products to sell and display. It’s a way to show everyone in town the efforts of their labor, the season’s harvest, no pun intended,” She chuckled. Keyleth started feeling some anxiety when she saw how entranced Vex’ahlia was in her story, but when she looked at Vax, who was equally, if not more, enraptured, it all vanished. Vax was looking at her with such adoration and admiration like he needed every word she spoke as much as he needed air.

“We usually have a large potluck, and everyone in town brings food and drinks. My dad and I are in charge of plant-based main dishes since we have a small community of vegetarians, and I’m always the dessert table supervisor, so I have to make sure the little ones don’t go poking their fingers in the numerous pies and cakes we have.”

“Vax used to do that when we were young.” Vex rolled her eyes at her brother, and they all chuckled. 

“Do you have any other traditions at your festival?” Vax’s eyes were glimmering, and Keyleth noticed how Vex’s head whipped in his direction in shock.

“Uh–We do,” she ignored it and continued, focusing her gaze on her plate and only glancing at Vax a few times to boost her confidence. “Besides the display stalls for selling produce and other products from the farmers, we also have artisanal sellers, games for the kids to play, and entertainment for everyone. Then when the sun sets, we light a giant bonfire and share stories and songs around the fire. And we have a large cherry tree in the center of town that we always fill with so many fairy lights, and when night comes, we light it up as well, and it almost looks like it’s daytime. When I was young, I would lay down underneath it, my stomach hurting after I ate so many desserts and candy, and I would imagine the fairy lights swinging with the breeze were the last fireflies of summer saying goodbye. It’s funny because I would always wake up in my bed the next morning, thinking it was magic, until one day when I found out that my dad would always carry me home at the end of the night because I would fall asleep under the tree.”

“You sound like you miss home a lot,” Vex pointed out sadly, to which Keyleth nodded.

“Are you going home for Winter’s Crest?” Vax asked.

“Well, yeah. We have the entire week off, and my dad would probably fly to Emon and drag me home if I didn’t go.” Keyleth joked. 

“Your dad sounds amazing, by the way.” Vex stared at her plate, petting Trinket, who was sitting straight next to her, waiting for his share of the meal.

“He’s pretty cool.” 

“Pretty cool? He came all the way over to help you move in.” Vax snickered, “That sounds like an amazing father.”

Keyleth was about to ask the twins about their father, but she noticed the warning look that Vex gave her brother, and she realized that she had never heard them mention any parents. Several questions flooded her mind – How about your parents? Did your mom teach you how to cook? What does your dad do for a living? – but by the time she decided to ask the twins how they usually celebrated Harvest’s Close, they were already enthralled in conversation about school, so she dropped the subject for later and enjoyed their company and the amazing meal.

—

“What the fuck was that at dinner, brother?” Vex asked, sitting at the end of her bed with a huff. 

“What are you talking about, stubby?” Vax smiled, sitting opposite of her. 

“You were drooling all over Keyleth.”

“What?” He laughed. “You’re insane, Vex.”

“Did you just laugh? I haven’t heard you laugh in months. Are you two fucking? Is that why you spent all day with her?” Vex asked in scorn.

“Keyleth and I are just friends, Vex’ahlia,” Vax’s smile fell. “Besides, you were the one who pushed me into baking that pie.”

“I didn’t force you to go get groceries with her or spend the afternoon in the kitchen cooking together. The pie takes 20 minutes to make.”

Vax rolled his eyes at her and leaned in, placing his hands on her shoulders. “We are just friends, stubby.”

“Good, because I have to share a room with her, and the last thing I need is for you to start fucking my roommate, okay? That would be so fucking awkward.”

“What about you and whitey?” Vax asked, cocking his head.

“What about it?” Vex swallowed dry.

“You two have been hanging out a lot, haven’t you?” Vax wiggled his eyebrows in amusement.

“We are just friends, brother,” Vex’ahlia said coldly, getting up from the bed.

“I’m sure he would love to be much more than that,” Vax got up and pulled her into a hug, “but if he touches you, I will have to kill him.”

“Please, I can take care of myself,” Vex sneered, looking him in the eyes.

Vax knew his sister could take care of herself, she had to do so many times before, but he also knew she loved and appreciated how protective he was towards her, especially when men were involved.

“I just don’t want him to hurt you, that’s all.”

“I’m not mom, Vax. I won’t fall for his smooth talk.” Vex pulled away from him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re the one who needs to be careful, brother.”

“What do you mean?” Vax stepped back in shock.

“Even the prettiest roses have thorns.”

“I told you, we are nothing but friends, and even if we were, it’s my heart, and I get to choose who breaks it.” Vax huffed in frustration, turning his back on her and storming off the bedroom.

—

*CW: Mention of dead parents starts here.*

Keyleth finished putting away the last of the clean dishes from dinner, turning around to see the half-eaten pie on the island in front of her. Memories flooded back to her, of meals and pies, of her and her dad cooking early in the morning, of them picking up fresh produce the day before. She furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to recall her mother’s presence in the kitchen with them, the touch of her fingers on Keyleth’s hand as she guided her through the pumpkin patch, or the glimmer of her eyes when Keyleth showed her the perfect pumpkin that she had picked from the ground herself, but all she could remember was an empty face, an empty touch, a pair of dull and cold green eyes that belonged to someone else.

The first Harvest’s Close after Vilya’s death was the hardest. Keyleth was too young to remember much of it, so all she could remember was an overwhelming feeling of emptiness inside her as if something important was missing from her life. It wasn’t until she was a teenager that those feelings started to subside, and, as Keyleth grew up, she learned to relish the moments she had with her dad, so being away from home for the first time, especially on such an important holiday, was being very painful for her – a much as she tried to hide it from the twins.

But now she was finally alone since the twins had disappeared to their respective bedrooms, and all the overwhelming feelings of the day finally rushed through her heart. Keyleth couldn’t remember what her mom looked like anymore, what she smelled like, or what her voice sounded like. She couldn’t remember the mornings when she would open the soft yellow curtains of her bedroom to let the sunlight in or how her mom would always say, “Good morning, sunshine!” as she did so. Keyleth couldn’t remember the warm chamomile tea with honey her mom would make her every night before bed or how her voice sounded rough and exhausted after a day of work as she read her bedtime stories.

What Keyleth could remember, though, was how long it took for her dad to pick up the small habits of her mother in an attempt to fill the void. She remembered how it took him months to greet her the way her mom did every morning, how he always forgot the honey until he saw Keyleth get up one night and walk barefoot to the empty and dark kitchen to add honey to her tea. Keyleth smiled melancholically at the memories of her father, exhausted after a day of work, asking her if she would like a bedtime story, and Keyleth, too scared she would forget her mom’s voice if he did read to her, had told him no, she was okay. She wasn’t okay, though, and deep down, she knew that when her dad kissed her goodnight, his heart tightened in his chest for not being able to fill that emptiness inside his little girl.

Keyleth fell to the ground with a soft thud, her back hunching against the dull cream-colored counter as she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head between them. Her tears were warm and fast, and her shoulders shook as she tried to stifle a sob, then another one, and a third one until she couldn’t hold it anymore. 

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and the familiar scent of soap filled her mind as she was pulled into someone’s chest, not needing to open her eyes to know who it belonged to. Vax ran one hand up and down her spine comforting her, the other tight against the back of her head, pressing her deep against his sweater. “Let it out.” He whispered barely loud enough, the air of his voice soft against her head, and Keyleth cried harder, burying her hands into his clothing and pulling him closer to her.

She didn’t know how long it took for her to stop crying. What was probably only a few minutes felt like hours, but eventually, Keyleth’s sobs turned into sighs of exhaustion, and she realized she was practically sitting on Vax’s lap, his sweater damp from where she had buried her face. He was still holding her tightly, his hand now rubbing circles on the small of her back, and his slow, steady breath puffed warmly against her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Keyleth’s voice was weak, and her eyes were still glimmering when she pulled away from him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his voice was soft and warm, and Keyleth wanted to bury herself into his chest and cry again. Instead, she let him pull her to her feet and drag her to the couch.

“Your sweater–”

“It’s okay,” Vax smiled at her lovingly as he sat on the couch, pulling her with him.

Keyleth sat down by his side, slightly turned so she was facing him, and Vax wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I–” Keyleth’s eyes welled with tears again, and Vax squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I miss my mom,” she finally voiced what she had been trying to hide all day, and tears streamed down again. 

For the second time that night, Vax’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his lap, pressing her head into his chest as he pressed soft kisses to the crown of her head. 

“I miss my mom too.” 

From the tone of his voice, Keyleth could tell he understood her pain, so she brought her teary eyes up to meet his and said softly, “I’m so sorry Vax.”

“It’s okay.” He replied with a sad smile.

“I’m here if you ever need to talk,” Keyleth nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and Keyleth held tightly against him, feeling the hardness of his chest against her hand. 

“I know, Kiki. And I will always be here if you need me.”

*CW ends here.*

Keyleth’s heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she knew Vax could hear and feel it. She didn’t want to let go of him, and Vax didn’t seem to want to let go of her either, not from how tight his arms were around her, so she let herself cry again until exhaustion took over. 

When Keyleth woke up the next morning, it took her a few seconds to realize Vax was asleep underneath her, his arms still surrounding her tightly, and her cheeks flushed red as her heart sped in her chest. Vax felt warm and soft, and his breathing was so relaxed and slow that if Keyleth didn’t have her ear against his heart, she would have guessed he wasn’t alive. She felt comfortable with him in ways she had never felt with anyone else, so once the initial embarrassment vanished, Keyleth found herself being lulled back to sleep by his steady breathing, smiling at the thought of his arms wrapping around her, how his warm his breath felt against her hair the previous night, and how kind he was to her all the time.

[kyogre-blue]

Another trip to the bookstore. This time was a bit meh because they didn’t have next volume of Kaiju no9, Witch Hat Atelier, Doctor Stone, or anything like that. 

They didn’t even have vol 4 of Solo Levelling, but when I flipped through vol 5, I decided to drop it for good. While the colors are beautiful, I don’t really like the narrow faces and the way bodies are drawn, I don’t remember who any of the characters are, I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care for the political maneuvering or whatever. 

Two more casualties were “Butterfly-rat body swap" and “Hero Life of Mediocre Demon.” First one is a female lead manga set in a vaguely Chinese harem, but I don’t generally like the JP take on that. Second one is fairly whatever, but their first major beat after intros was “MC accidentally makes his hot vampire classmate into his slave via magic,” so no thanks. 

What I did read (these are abbreviated titles btw): 

Succubus and Hitman, vol 1: Gory and edgy, but it caries itself along in a pretty snappy way, so I’m okay to continue at least for now. 

The Boys Love Me Anyway, vol 1: Fairly standard “fem MC wakes up as a child villainess and wins over all the capture targets before they hit puberty.” I’m not sure whether to laugh or roll my eyes at how helping randos is just something she’s been doing habitually since age 2 (?!). 

The important part is her meido, Melo, whom the MC introduces by “she’s so beautiful and wonderful, if I was a boy I’d definitely marry her,” they have a special bond since childhood, and Melo also inexplicably dresses like a boy when they go out to shop, to the point that I was wondering if she’s actually a crossdresser, but apparently not. 

Cross-dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie, vol 1: The MC transmigrates into a villainess and decides the best way to avoid all possibly death flags is to pretend to be a man. She’s got a very “shoujo heroine” personality, but it’s cute enough. The real issue will be whether they drag out the reverse harem hijinks too long. 

I do like her adopted brother as a pairing, but the prince is hotter: 

7th Time Loop, vol 1: MC is repeating her life for the 7th time, where after always dying before hitting twenty, she gets returned to the night when the prince broke off their engagement. In every life she’s gone on to become an overachiever in trade, medicine, etc, but in her last life she got killed (in battle, as a knight) by the emperor ML who starts a huge war in every lifetime. 

This time, she’s marrying him. 

Kind of amusing, and I admit I’m curious about what’s going on behind the scenes. I also like how the ML’s nation has buildings in a similar style to Mond. Apparently, they’re called “half-timbered,” hm. 

Fiancee Chosen by the Ring, vol 1: No transmigration or reincarnator here. Fem MC just ends up engaged by happenstance. Aside from general intrigue of high society, there’s also something about her having a “primordial magic” that happens to make the things she embroiders have passive magical effects. Cute, though not terribly exciting. 

Also, I like this unrelated advertisement in the back of one manga. That ML does look like a bride, you go girl, hook up with that vampire. 

[hischierlovebot]

Yes jeans and also Blundstones, like I really wanna do mine but I’m scared I’ll fuck up. Ah what are you planning to embroider on the totebag for your sister?

Haha! Ah yes same, I used to live for shows like CSI and Criminal Minds! Oh that’s a good attitude, if I don’t like something it doesn’t get a second chance 😂 well not with tv shows at least.

Ah that’s so cool! There’s not many people that practiced ballet other than for just a year when they were kids or something. Oh yes spain & flamenco haha cool! With the heels and skirt/dress also? “I'd love to know how to climb” <- well I think everyone can learn to do so! Strength can be build 😉.

It is, and I did! It used to be my favourite country when I was a kid but things change haha.

Ah I see! Yes that makes sense, speaking the language really helps. I can really recommend living abroad once in your life!

I’ve had a nice weekend so far. Met up with a friend yesterday, today I’m doing some chores and working on a project for work so my Saturday was definitely better than my Sunday 😂. Hope you’ve had a good weekend so far too!

P.s. Oooh yess b99, one of my faves.

P.p.s. About the ‘delay’: Honestly no worries! I get it, I just wanted to check because sometimes tumblr has the tendency to eat some asks.

- 🫐

Oh blundstones?? I had never seen it with those before I'm intrigued. She asked for a dinosaur wearing a hat and made sure to make me an edit of what she wanted exactly but also it's been a couple of years since then so I'll have to update that. Might still do both, I feel terrible I haven't embroidered it for her yet

I have watched so many criminal shows it's probably unhealthy ngl but criminal minds will forever be my favorite (the latest season isn't my fave by a long shot but I am still excited for it's return)

I loved ballet ngl I did it for something like 8 years? Around that. I had to quit but I've always loved dancing so flamenco it is! I now do bulerias which is a specific type of flamenco, which you can do with heels but also with any type of clothing so I've done it from heels to heavy boots ngl it's very cool! And you are absolutely right 😂 I do have a friend who's very into climbing maybe I'll get her to give me some tips and take me climbing one of these days, I'll report back

I'm really looking forward to it, so even if it's not working out rn I hope I can go abroad at some point! I know it'll be hard but I think it can also be very worth it so, fingers crossed

I hope your project went well! And hopefully meeting up with your friend made up for your Sunday 😂 mine was a bit tiring and very social but very fun, so I'd call it a success ^^

(B99 is absolutely one of my fave TV shows, it gets a re-watch at least once a year, I know some of the episodes by heart. Do you have any shows like that?)

[cmyknoise]

Hey guys, I know I complain about Revolt as a merch company a LOT. 

But there is a very very long twitter thread, as Wilbur’s merch starts shipping out, of designs coming in completely wrong. Like, the teal hoodie seems to be the biggest problem, as it’s coming in with the brown hoodie design. This means it doesn’t have the windows logo or the printed on back, and several are missing the drawstrings. 

Other issues such as the navy crewneck coming in bright blue, and shipping issues, etc. 

Here’s the Twitter Thread

There’s a lot of issues, and be careful as you receive your merch from Revolt (look the clothes over while they’re still in the plastic wrapping, I believe the site says if the wrapping is removed you can’t return it). 

If something is wrong take pictures and send emails to support@wilbur.store

This issue is seriously fucked up and I’ve gone on and on before about how Revolt is a shit merch company, but now they’re not even getting the designs of the clothing right and the hoodies especially were very expensive. Please be cautious. 

If you’re curious, Tubbo, Ranboo, Karl, Jack Manifold, Wilbur, Tommy, and a few others have done merch through this company, but it is not their fault. The company is vague to customers and the cc!s they do this deal with. Wilbur read what Revolt had told him and it was vague and the exact same copy/paste message that they send fans when they question shipping times. 

Please please please stop buying from Revolt, and please keep an eye out on your merch as it comes in, the teal hoodie from Wilbur especially. 

IF YOU GET THE WRONG HOODIE DO NOT TAKE IT OUT OF THE CLEAR PLASTIC. IF THE FRONT DESIGN ISNT THE RIGHT ONE, IT’S NOT RIGHT. IF YOU TAKE IT OUT OF THE CLEAR PLASTIC YOU CAN’T RETURN IT.

EDIT: Some additional things are below!!

 The teal hoodie should look like this ⬇️⬇️

It is being shipped with no draw streams, very acid washed, and with the design that was exclusive to the brown hoodie ⬇️⬇️

The brown hoodie is embroidered but features no back design, just Wilbur’s name. 

There are other issues with one of the long sleeve shirts arriving a bright blue rather than a muted navy blue. 

The merch in general is so far 2-3 weeks late in shipping, and responses from support are vague and bare. 

Also! I just want to compile my personal experiences with Revolt and some other comments

I first ordered Tubbo merch when it was initially released in June 2021. It was initially delayed from shipping in Sepetember to October. 

October rolled around, no further update. I sent a support email and it took about 2 weeks for a response. I was told they’d be shipping within a week. The week passed, it’s now early November and I contact them again. I’m told it’ll ship out late November. No update, no merch. Early December I sent out another email and they responded a week later that it’ll get there by the end of December. Once again, I waited, and I received Tubbo’s merch early January.

I first ordered Ranboo’s merch when it was initially released, it was supposed to ship out early November. Again the date rolls around and nothing. It took 3 weeks for me to get an email back, in which case I was told it would ship out in a week or two. Repeat of what happened with Tubbo, and I didn’t get my merch until January. 

Every email was the same cut/paste response of ‘we’ve been delayed, items haven’t come in, we expect to get them in a few days, we’ll ship next week.’ but this happens each and every time. 

Luckily, all my orders came in correct and of decent quality, but I’ve seen quality control issues from other people’s orders. 

I didn’t buy Ranboo’s holiday merch, but I’ve seen the snowglobe issues. There were also issues of the hat not fitting. Some of Tubbo’s second release pin boxes would show up missing pins. 

Whatever is going on is extremely disappointing and I urge you to look at the thread as more and more is added to it. I think somehow this should be brought to cc’s attention, but I have no idea how (Reddit maybe, since Wilbur checks that a lot). 

I want to be clear that it seems that the cc’s are unaware of this issue. Revolt very obviously sends them quality pre-designs of the merch, things they can wear a few months ahead to hype up the merch. It seems they may also be of better quality. 

Based on what Wilbur has said in the last two streams he’s done (April 14th & 15th), it seems he’s aware of the late shipping times and seemed mildly upset by them. He contacted the team but was told the exact same things they tell customers, which is unfortunate. It seems Revolt is as equally unclear to who they partner with as they are with fans buying merch. 

I strongly advise you not purchase merch sold by Revolt in the future. This is pretty much anything under preorder with the fancy websites, Currently Phil and Wilbur do have merch shops unattached to Revolt, I’ve bought merch from them, they’re safe. 

Just be weary buying from Revolt. 

[comeandreadawhile]

Clone Social Media : Hobbies

The phenomenon starts with the intention to show the civilians of the Republic the men behind the armor, as well as an encouragement for the men to do the things they enjoy when they have the time to in lieu of sitting around cleaning weapons for a third time that day.

Scratch that—the phenomenon starts with High General Kenobi, on a rare day of leave, teaching his Marshal Commander how to bake. Said Commander’s men were happy to taste test the flurry of experimental confections that pervaded their leave days in the following months. News spread fast of Marshal Commander Cody having a knack for baking, and so followed the spread of troopers attempting to make their own treats and/or branching off into other things the civilians called “hobbies” whenever what they could get their hands on afforded them.

The phenomenon kicked off when Padawan Commander Tano began a social media account with the intention of using it as a public diary, her first post was a picture taken of some of the 501st—with permission, her caption says—as they went about retouching paint scuffed in their most recent battle. The men are relaxed, some with paint smeared on their hands and cheeks and seemingly reacting to some joke or story told outside the threshold of the camera, and it’s an almost startling difference from the image of rigid lines of men, faceless in their full kits of white plastoid, that the civilians are used to. Tano’s second post is a video clip of one Captain Rex, with one General Skywalker sitting on his back counting reps, doing push-ups; the video was captioned “Another day in the G.A.R., restless in hyperspace.”

The digital diary continues from there, videos and pictures of specific locations posted only after reaching a safe distance to do so, never sharing anything mission critical—past, current, or hypothetical future. Eventually she shows the men under her how to make their own accounts, and other Jedi and their own troops follow suit. The 212th then takes it upon themselves to post pictures of the little cakes their Marshal Commander has gotten so proficient at making, and, when General Kenobi creates a joint account titled “command_212”, convince Cody to post pictures of things he bakes before they are distributed—even in the process of baking, if the fancy strikes him.

So Marshal Commander Cody shares pictures of his experiments, of recipes he finds that turned out well, of recipes that didn’t because of some error or other that he’s determined to give another go, with the occasional cryptid picture of General Kenobi taking his tea in the barrack’s kitchen. As time goes on those pictures shift to Obi-Wan covered in flour, or a shot taken from several feet away of Cody sneaking batter captioned “caught red-handed in the red velvet”.

As Marshal Commander of the 212th has taken to baking to relieve stress, the Commander of the 104th has turned to needlecraft and yarnwork.

The 104th retaliate the populatrity of the 212th’s command account with the domesticity of their own, despite the vaguely threatening possibilities of knitting and sewing needles. Boost and Sinker run the majority of the account, although all OG members of the 104th have access to it; they post pictures of the things Wolffe makes them, of General Plo covered in the lengths of scarves he’s received, of Comet in the ever-growing swath the gifted blankets with the current tally in the caption (his toes were off the floor by blanket burrito 6). The holonet at large loves Plo almost as much as his men, and once a week they post him saying some piece of sage wisdom—or utter nonsense, as the mood strikes—as the war goes on. After months of asking for a face reveal and requests for the patterns people are sure Wolffe uses, they make the most Force-forsaken tutorial videos as an all-in-one series.

“HOLY **** HE’S CASTING ON 12 TO START—“ “WHAT A MAD MAN!”

“So when you get to this row here you’re going to knit 3, purl 3–“ “TRANSCENDENT!” “—yes, thank you, and then keep doing that until you reach the end of the row...”

“Oh, OH MAN HE’S GONNA DO IT!” “HE’S GONNA CHANGE COLORS!” “Holy **** man he’s gonNA YOOOOOOOOOO!”

Cody is then issued a challenge by the holonet to learn to knit. He learns to crochet. Because Obi-Wan knows how to crochet. The holonet loves video snippets of them progressing on projects together. They also love the videos Ahsoka posts of Cody attempting to teach Rex, and praise the absolutely completely unrelated hat she later posts a picture of; it covers her Montrals with enough room for a few years’ growth. Anakin gets yarn stuck in his mechanical hand because he forgot to put his glove on before attempting to craft.

The real throwdown happens when the account for the Coruscant Guard posts videos of Fox aggressively tatting while venting about the lack of funding for proper security and surveillance tech.

Each posts sees a comical increase in the surfaces covered in lace doilies and runners, as well as a new topic for Fox’s venting.

A picture of an pillow embroidered with “Kriff the Seppies” is briefly posted to the 104th’s account before being taken down and replaced with a censor bar. Rumors begin to circulate when Senator Chuchi posts a picture wearing a gifted lace shawl; Senator Amidala comments on her confusion being resolved as to why Riyo kept bringing little baskets of crochet thread with her before a senate meetings.

A competition for ship nose art starts up, many votes going to the 501st, and the holonet’s heart once again melting at “Plo’s Bros”. Personal art begins popping up soon after. Fives starts posting spray paint tutorials, Rex and Hardcase become popular for clean graphic art. Bly gets his hands on metallic paint and the crowds go wild. Kix has taken his clean haircut game to the next level.

And then Colt and Shaak Ti make an account to post art the Littles make, most of them representations of their older brothers with wishes of safety and good luck, and of the only Jedi they’ve ever known, sometimes creatures they studied in their preparation for worlds outside of Kamino. Of batches passing their final tests with a congratulatory post.

Suggestions and instructions are sent out for clones who want to take and sell commissions, allowing them to finally make some money; most Jedi are more than happy to help make sure the finished work mails out properly to the buyers.

Ships of the non-nose art kind surface on the holonet. It’s generally agreed upon that command_212 is run by husbands, and Aayla is the protector of the 327th and Bly’s heart, even if she’s a clumsy menace around his artwork (caf spilled over a drying watercolor can be interesting or terrible depending on the circumstance). No one can agree whether Skywalker is married to his captain or Senator Amidala, but everyone agrees that Ahsoka is their baby. The holonet declares Plo to have Big Dad Energy. Shaak Ti’s Big Mom Energy is a friendly rival. The Jedi council has made no official statement denying or denouncing these attachments.

Public interest begins to shift from producing more soldiers to making sure the ones the Republic has stay alive, when the realization hits that within a couple of years the children posting art and losing teeth would probably be losing blood and brothers on some far away planet. Of making sure the men are eating well instead of just surviving. Well certain account-holders don’t post for a while, grieving a loss, posting again to reassure their followers they’re alright, the public questions what’s being done to keep the men emotionally and mentally well outside of the hobbies the public knows them for. “Born to handle any stress” is very much the wrong answer.

Pressure is put on the Chancellor to let the Separatists sucede, no one quite sure anymore why allowing them to would be harmful when at worst new trade agreements would need to be brokered; if they want to leave so badly, let them. And let the men have their hobbies.

(Sad thoughts ahead)

Sometimes commissioners never receive their orders, simply a refund with a letter from that clone’s Jedi after the latest battle ends. Any money they’d made would be split however their closest brothers decide.

The channel that always posts pranks and spray paint tutorials makes a post saying they’d be away to look after their sick little brother. It’s the last post they make.

The Coruscant Guard’s account stops posting a few nights later.

After Order 66 goes out, a new account goes up posting any pictures and cute videos of Aayla. Reposting old ones that the public is sure they’d seen somewhere before, posting new ones of funny faces and ridiculous videos of silly dances. The last one is the only one captioned, “she wasn’t a traitor.”

The account is deleted the same night, and the one of the 327th’s adventures never posts again.

Wolfpack_104 does not post, but is still there.

Command_212 is deleted almost immediately the night of the order.

Years go by, almost sixteen, and only after Vader already knows she’s alive does Ahsoka post again. It’s a picture of her, and Rex and Wolffe onboard the Ghost in hyperspace captioned “Was never a traitor. Always the little sister even if I’m four years older. In case you’re wondering, Rex still draws and Wolffe still knits when we can nab the string and flimsi.”

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 6 - Edwardian service worker fashion

Time for some Downstairs fashions! They have a lot less variety as we usually see them in uniform that they usually keep over at least one season change, so I’ll do this all in one go.

Firstly, the everyday maid uniforms that Anna and Gwen and later on Ethel and Jane wear (I assume they just handed down Gwen’s old uniforms?) throughout the first two seasons, pretty simple, greyish green frocks with long sleeves and cuffs, a ruffled front, short standing collars, plus a neat little printing pattern to loosen up the overall image. High waistbands, which will lead to some clash between fashion and practicality once the 1920s roll in. Interestingly, Anna wears various aprons to this, but they usually have some lace additions on them, as have the little maid caps, which seems like an unnecessary bother for an article of clothing you have to replace somewhat frequently. But then, this is the fancy Grantham household.

They wear black dresses instead to events when they have guests Upstairs, with little lace collars and notably frillier aprons and caps. Honestly, the shape of the upper parts of these aprons make them look a lot less effective at their job and a lot more like decorative additions. But then so are the headbands they wear to this, which are really much more bands than they are caps. This becomes more obvious in season 2 when the headbands lose a lot of their frill.

--------------

Daisy is not in uniform; she usually wears an apron over a simple, cute dress with a stripe print that, from season 1 to 2 goes through exactly one change: It gets a white collar attached to it. I cannot clearly remember if she ever, at any time of the year, wore something with long sleeves? Perhaps she doesn’t need to inside the house, working mostly in the kitchen.

--------------

Check out the variety – Mrs Hughes doesn’t get to wear one, but two black dresses on the job! In all honesty, they are nice dresses, all Edwardian stern matron outfit with long fitted sleeves and high collars, but the pinstripes on the first dress and the blackwork and lace on the second put this a tier above the maid uniforms. She’s the head of the household; she can afford some nice fabrics. And even a little pearl brooch that she wears on both dresses.

--------------

Granted, Anna also either can afford a nice pinstripe suit with a velvet collar or, also possible, she got it from one of the misses Upstairs. Not unlikely, as we later see her wear a dress that once belonged to Mary, and Sybil is already in the habit of dressing up her friends among the servants. I like that Anna chose this outfit for the city; it gives her a touch of worldliness that she doesn’t usually have at Downton.

For a walk the countryside, she chose this cream coat with shell buttons instead. Okay, can we talk about the pin tucks?? Because, that’s a lot of work, both in the front and the back. I know we are way past the invention of the sewing machine, but still, gotta put in the bother to set them all in so neatly. I’m also wondering why she didn’t put the velvet ribbon on her hat for the city; it seems a perfect match for the collar of the pinstripe suit. But anyway, this is the outfit in which Anna makes her love declaration, and she looks positively angelic. Subtlety whomst?

--------------

Gwen’s coat looks a lot more down-to-earth. If it’s a Tartan, it may well be a tweed in my book… The color is not very exciting, but the coat looks comfortable and well-worn, and the hat is just the cutest. That embroidered ribbon! It’s lovely, although it doesn’t match Gwen’s own coat nearly as much as the outfit she gets from Sybil.

Because for some reason, light blue-swamped Sybil just happens to have a walking suit in her wardrobe that fits Gwen perfectly and is a color as if it was made to match her hat. Whatevs. It does definitely help Gwen’s impression along, even though it turns out later that hiding her job as a maid was not in her favor. I hope she got to keep the suit though; it’s not like Sybil will miss it.

Also, they look like girlfriends out on a date here.

--------------

And back to Mrs Hughes. Her Sunday dress is all flowers, and she wears her pearl brooch again. It’s a bit dowdy, I admit, but I guess a woman her age won’t pull of the tailored coats and walking suits that Anna and Gwen do. Not that her own coat is anything to sneeze at, but since I can’t seem to get it in decent light, I don’t even know what color it is. But I have to give it to her: Her hat game is strong, especially in the second picture. Look at the plumage; is this a Crawley hand-me-down?

[babybattips]

🖤 Non-obvious Goth festival etiquette and tips 🖤

Hi! I came back from a festival, it was amazing! And I wanted to maybe give some tips to younger people who want to go for the first time. My advice is based of the Castle Party Festival in Poland.

1. Know your limits. This doesn’t only apply to alcohol and god knows what types of drugs (just don’t do drugs, it’s 2022 and no one is going to be impressed), but to clothes, makeup, crowds and noise levels. Castle Party takes place in a medieval castle - Freya from the channel It’s Black Friday described it as WGT but with hills. Well, it’s not only hills, also medeival European pavements. How do people wear Demonias and Pleaser shoes, I legit have no idea - it’s hard to even walk in pikes on these stones. Obviously not every goth festival has medieval castles, but most if not all of them require a lot of walking and standing, so heels can be painful; you could also just sprain your ankle in both heels and high platforms, if you’re unlucky or just in a hurry. Lower platforms are ok, I had 5cm / 2 inches and was super comfy.

When it comes to clothes, check the weather forecasts and please oh my fucking god, take something rainproof  that isn’t an umbrella, so a raincoat or a foil cape. Umbrellas and parasols will cover the stage viev for other people. Also pack something that won’t be too awful in the heat, even if it’s not fancy and pretty. If the forecasts suggest cold weather, take a WOOL sweater or shawl with you - not acrylic, not velvet, wool. You can buy one second hand if you don’t support fast fashion or if you’re vegan (you won’t be supporting the wool industry that way). Don’t forget about high SPF sunscreen and a hat for sunny days.

Remember that concerts can be LOUD - especially goth shows with strong bass guitars, so definitely take earplugs if it’s your first time - you might end up not using them or they might save your ears.

2. If you’re a newbie, don’t try to seem experienced. Everyone’s gonna see through it. When I’m walking at a festival, I can clearly see who’s new - and it’s cool to be new. Goth needs new people and you’ll be just as appreciated as elders, if not more.

3. Don’t try to put a super fancy outfit together if you lack experience in the fashion part of goth. The entire style walks the line between beautiful and extremely tacky - if you can’t afford higher quality clothing from a store, go thrifting! Like I do! Don’t support Killstar or Punk Rave, they SCREAM polyester and other fabrics that start with poly- (all of these are plastic). I’m gonna be harsh here but it’s literally Pathetic with a big P to dress in an aristocrat inspired outfit if it’s not made of high quality materials. Silk, linen, cotton, wool, rayon and other natural fabrics are your friend. When choosing a goth outfit, look at the lace carefully - avoid nylon and raschel lace, go for cotton and embroidered tulle lace. Silk lace is also amazing, but hard to find.

It’s better to wear a simpler outfit than buy a “fancy” one on aliexpress - remember, most goth festivals have press reporters and there’s a huge chance of your pictures appearing on the internet. You don’t wanna be embarassed when you find them.

Here’s my outfit from this year, made of wool, linen and cotton + leather shoes. I also had an organza petticoat under my dress.

And under my capelet was this (sorry abt the thrift store tag):

Some older photos from ye olde days (from oldest to newest):

(these made me very nostalgic but also huh I had a glowup. Wouldn’t leave the house like this nowadays)

4. When watching the live shows, try not to bother other people in the crowd - for example, if you have a gigantic hat - take it off for the concerts (if it’s not too sunny - if you have a hat because it’s hot, that’s a different story - take care of yourself.) When you’re dancing, try not to bump into others too much if it’s possible. If you have to give up your spot to go to the bathroom for example - there’s a chance you’re not coming back, especially if it’s a famous band. It’s possible to go back to a spot just by the stage after leaving, but it’s difficult. Most of the time you either go pee or keep watching from your nice spot.

If I gave up my spot during She Past Away live show, there’s no way I’d get it back.

Basically have fun, avoid a heat stroke and don’t wear stilettos to a medieval castle.

[my-soul-sings]

what’s wrong with secretary kim: ch 2

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Vincent Kim, Marius von Hagen (not shipped)

Summary: Five times Vincent Kim put up with his boss’ antics, and one time he didn’t.

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 

You can read this on AO3! See the replies to this post for the AO3 link.

***

Chapter 2: He’s Not Just A Secretary

Being a secretary is tough. It’s not just the long hours or the late nights or the burnt weekends; it’s the fact that being a secretary means you often have to put on many hats and do things well beyond your job scope.

Or, maybe that’s just how it is in Vincent Kim’s case.

(1) Personal stylist

Just yesterday, he became his boss’ personal stylist. And by that, he means that his boss had “no time” to hire an actual stylist because he was in a rush to get to a date. Yet, the busy man apparently had time to make Vincent sit in front of his walk-in closet for close to an hour just to watch his boss come out in different outfits for him to assess.

His first look was his usual, go-to outfit: a black T-shirt with his white overshirt and a pair of blue denim jeans. 

“I think it looks good,” Vincent had told him, but his compliment was met with a disapproving click of the tongue.

“But this is probably too casual for the venue. Let me try something else.” 

Another ten minutes went by. This time, Marius emerged in a black button-up shirt and a pair of grey pants. 

“This looks more formal and fitting for the venue, young master. I think this is perfect.”

Again, Marius doesn’t look satisfied with that. 

“But I don’t know… I think I’ve worn this out with her too much, it might look bad to keep repeating the same clothes. What if she thinks I don’t do my laundry?”

You don’t. Someone else does it for you.

“Hold on, let me try something else.” 

To Vincent’s chagrin, his boss decides to repeat the same process several times. 

For his fifth outfit choice, Marius chose to put on his formal purple suit embroidered with the family crest. 

“What do you think? Too much?” 

Vincent doesn’t know what he’s done to possibly deserve this. All he wants is some peace and quiet to focus on the mountains of paperwork that he has yet to finish. But no, no no no, he’s here, watching his boss play a game of Barbie dress-up. 

“It looks good on you, young master,” he says with his usual polite smile. For the fifth time, he sees Marius’ lips turn downwards with dissatisfaction. 

“Vincent, I get that you’re trying to be nice, but I want your honest opinion here.”

My honest opinion? Hire someone else to do this and let me do the work I’m actually being paid to do! 

“Hmm… It might be a little too formal for dinner at the restaurant you picked out.”

Marius snaps his fingers and brightens into a smile. “Right? Exactly what I thought.”

…Then why ask me?

“I’ll be right back with something else.” 

Vincent emits an inaudible sigh after his boss withdraws into the closet once again to ruffle through the drawers and hangers of clothes. He checks the time on his watch for what could be the thousandth time that evening, and realises that it’s another twenty minutes till 7pm, which is when he’s supposed to pick her up to go to the restaurant. 

“Um, young master, I think it’s about time you left, or you’ll be late for your date.”

“Crap! You’re right. Okay I think—” Vincent hears Marius snapping his fingers, “—I”ll just go with this then.” 

One minute later, Marius emerges in his second outfit: the black button-up shirt and grey pants that Vincent had already told him was good enough for the date. 

“Done! Thanks for your help. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Marius grins, patting Vincent on the shoulder twice before making a beeline for the door. 

With a sigh, Vincent shakes his head. 

Time to get back to work. 

***

(2) Cupid 

Vincent Kim had entered this job expecting to have to run small errands, like getting coffee for his boss, or a sandwich from a nearby shop if his boss has no time to eat lunch in between meetings and conference calls.

But what he didn’t expect was that his range of errands would extend to playing Cupid for his lovesick and lovestruck boss.

“Vincent, I think she’s too busy to get lunch today. Could you pick up a bouquet of flowers and a nice packed lunch and send it to her office? And I know this is asking a lot, but I want you to go personally. Let me know how she is. I’m worried about her.” 

The phone call came at 1pm. Precisely at lunch time. 

Vincent’s grip around the phone tightens, but he manages to keep his voice light and cheerful as always. “Of course, young master. I’ll get it done right away.” 

“Oh, and use my credit card. Don’t forget a good lunch for yourself too, okay? It’s on me.” 

“Thank you, young master. I will.” 

“Thanks Vincent. I owe you one.” 

After hanging up, Vincent finds himself softening a little. Working with Marius may be difficult, but it’s not all bad. At least the young man is genuinely nice and caring, unlike many other CEOs he’s had the misfortune of meeting and speaking with. 

So without any further mental complaints, Vincent grabs his things and heads straight out of the Pax Group building to get the flowers and packed lunch for his boss’ girlfriend. 

Fingers crossed, she hasn’t eaten yet. 

(By the time he gets there, she’s already eaten lunch that she ordered via a delivery app. Still, the flowers were a nice surprise.)

***

(3) Mother

In truth, this is usually Payton’s role. The senior butler took care of Marius since he was a young boy, well before Vincent ever came into the picture. But now that Marius is a grown man and spends more time out than at home, Payton isn’t able to watch over the young master like he used to. 

That’s why the role sort of got passed on to Vincent, whose job is to follow Marius around every day and make sure he does things like eating his veggies and buttoning his shirt right.

The job is simple enough, except that Vincent has to double up as Payton too whenever he has to accompany his boss on overseas business trips.

Usually, the business trips go by uneventfully. But then there are business trips like the present one, where things go on a rapid downward spiral, involving a virus and Marius coming down with a high fever, one day before they are due to attend the conference that they flew all the way here to Japan for. 

At times like these, Vincent knows exactly what he has to do: reschedule Marius’ appointments, inform everyone that he has to about Pax Group’s CEO’s current physical condition, and then arrange for a private doctor to see Marius in his hotel room and watch the young man take his prescribed medicine. It also means he has to liaise with the hotel staff to make sure they cook something suitable for a patient like Marius—strictly no greasy or oily food—and ensure that the ice pack on Marius’ forehead is changed regularly. 

The job requires him to be attentive to Marius’ every need, 24/7.  

Yet, as exhausting and stressful as it is, Vincent admittedly feels bad to see Marius in this state: bedridden and unable to move. It brings up old memories of the time when he first started working for Marius, back when the latter was still a young teen. 

Just like now, Marius hardly ever fell sick, but when he did, the young boy would always look quite miserable. Of course, being the rebellious teenager that he then was, he would put on a brave face and refuse to take his meds when told, but there were nights when Vincent caught him shedding a tear in his sleep. Perhaps it was the fact that his own family was rarely available to care for him when he was sick, or maybe it was something else altogether. 

Nevertheless, the memory of that lonely sight has remained fresh and vivid in Vincent’s mind to this day.

“Vincent.” The man snaps back to reality when he hears his boss call his name in a hoarse voice. He approaches the bedside, offering Marius a glass of water. After taking a sip, Marius offers him a weak smile. “Sorry to cause you this much trouble. You should go back to your room and sleep now. I don’t want to pass this bug to you.” 

“It’s no trouble at all, young master. You should just focus on recovering for now.” Noticing that the blanket is uneven, Vincent reaches down to smoothen the sheets and to tuck Marius in properly. 

“The conference?”

“I’ve informed everyone we need to that you may be absent tomorrow, depending on your physical condition.” 

“Good. Thanks. And uh, did… did you tell her about this?” 

Vincent smiles at that. “I did. But since it’s late over there I told her to go to sleep first. I said I can arrange for a video call between the two of you first thing in the morning. I also assured her that she doesn’t need to worry because I’ll be here to take care of you on her behalf.”

“You always know exactly what to do, Vincent. Thank you.” 

“It’s my job, young master. Now go to sleep. You can talk to her in the morning.”

Wordlessly, Vincent watches as his boss easily falls back into a quiet slumber. He then glances at the text messages from Marius’ girlfriend and cracks a tired smile to himself.

For what it’s worth, he’s glad that he now has someone else to take care of him too. 

(And then soon enough, she can take over this job of his.)

***

A/N: so i wrote a sick fic for marius and vincent before writing one for marius and mc. no regrets!

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

A day at the farmers market with  cottagecare!Harry

Summary: The styles family spends a day at the farmers market :) 

warnings: possible swearing

“Morning” Harry yawns, coming downstairs, walking down the creaky steps of their cottage. “Good morning, honey” Y/n softly calls, whipping something up in the kitchen, making what looks to be a mixed berry smoothie. Harry yawns, wrapping his arms around his little girl and kissing her cheek multiple times, saying a good morning. She clings to his Henley, saying good morning to him while she smacks on her fruit. 

Harry pulls his little boy out of the bassinet he was laying in, smiling down at him and kissing his forehead. “What are you making, dovie?” Harry asks, patting Forests bum. Y/n scoops out the dark purple colored smoothie like substance out of the blender, putting it in a mason jar- like almost every other thing in their kitchen. “It’s baby food,” Y/n says, holding a small multi-colored baby spoon up to Forrest's lips with the thick baby food on it. The little boy opens his mouth the smallest bit, taking the spoon in. 

“My love, we can just buy that.” Harry says, making Y/n shake her head. 

“And we can just buy a lot of things we make but I’m not feeding my baby’s that crap.” Y/n says, pulling Forest into her arms. 

“The farmers market opens today,  I want to go up there and look around then sell some of our stuff. I love doing that” Harry explains, going back over to violet and giving her a hug. The almost two year old clings to her daddy, Harry pulling her out of the chair and up into his arms, giving her a proper morning cuddle. “That would be nice. The weather is a bit rainy today though,” Y/n hums, reaching up to find a lid for the mason jar before stashing the baby food away in their vintage fridge. 

Y/n sets a bowl of oats and berries down next to Harry, giving him a peck before telling Violet that she needs to finish her breakfast. Violet's face scrunches up, covering her daddy’s mouth. “Icky!” She says, making the couple laugh. “Go eat your breakfast, sweet pea” Harry says, letting her down from his arms and letting her toddle her way back over to her own seat. 

“M’ I love this weather” Y/n sighs, opening a window, welcoming the fresh breeze in their stuffy cottage, the fresh scent and sound of rain now hammering through their home. “Know y’ do” Harry smiles, Y/n joining them at the wooden table, setting her own bowl down, Forest latched to her. 

“It’s the perfect day to go to the farmers market, just have to dress the little ones for the colder days.” Y/n says, Harry giving her a warm sleepy smile, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “I bet the ducks are enjoying this” Harry adds, Y/n nodding at his words and Violet clapping her hands together while she munches on some honey covered fruit. The honey from their own bees they take care of, outside in their brood box. 

“Definitely,” Y/n breaths, letting her eyes fall closed for a second to let the sound of the rain relax her before opening them back up, diving into her breakfast. 

**

“Honey, have you seen my glasses?” Harry asks, trudging down the stairs, ready for a day at the farmers market. He’s dressed in a ribbed cotton shirt- a warm brown color, along with a pair of brown plaid pants to go with it, some daisies stitched in the pockets that he asked Y/n to add just for him, and a forest green beanie to keep his curls from getting wet- but all he needs are his glasses to finish the look. “I’ll give you two guesses, baby” Y/n says, packing some small snacks for Violet while they are gone for a good chunk of the day. 

“Do you have them?” Harry asks, rounding his way to the kitchen, seeing his circle lenses on the top of her head. “How did you know?” She teases, Harry shrugging and pulling them from her and onto his eyes, pushing them up his nose. 

“Let’s go,” Y/n sings, pulling Forest into her arms and pulling the diaper bag onto her shoulder. Harry reached out for his daughter, holding a hand out for her. “Come here, little one” Harry calls out for violet, she stampers over to her daddy after placing her crayons down. She reaches for his hand, Harry pulling her up instead, resting her on his hip. 

They walk out of the cottage, locking the door and walking out of the gate. They walk over to their Volkswagen bus, a white and orange one. They originally got it because they both love the sixties aesthetic of it and it was a good way to haul everything from their little farm, but now they have grown to love it for more than just farm usage. “Let’s buckle you up,” Harry coos, placing Violet in her car seat while Y/n buckles Forest in his much larger car seat, making sure he is comfortable and secure. Harry makes sure Violet is comfortable before sliding the door shut and getting in the driver's seat. 

**

“Did you bring a lot of honey?” Y/n asks, cradling Forest to her chest, patting his bum softly while Violet sets behind them, snacking on some grapes. She’s a hungry girl. 

Harry nods, setting mason jars over the while fold out table that was already set up at the farmers market, under a small canopy “Yeah, and I brought some pumpkin jam too” Harry notes, setting everything up in rows, organizing them and grouping them all together neatly into their separate categories. Y/n nods, kissing Forest's hand, warming up her small baby. Harry turns, wrapping his arms around violet in a warm hug, resting his chin on top of her head. She wraps her small arms around him, giving him a squeeze. “I love you” Harry says, kissing her head. 

“Love you!” Violet says, making Harry smile, kissing her cheek. Y/n holds Forest up, looking at him suspiciously. “Babe, I need to go change Forest” Y/n says, stepping out of the beige topped canopy and grabbing the diaper bag she had packed just before they left. Harry nods, pulling violet close to him. They hate that they are such ‘helicopter parents’ but they can’t help it, they both mainly work from home and they love their children more than anything in this world. “Okay, I’ll just keep Violet close to me.” Harry hums, playing with the small pig tails that spring on the top of violet's hair. “So you don’t get stolen because you are so cute!” Harry coos, making Y/n give him a strange look, walking back to their bus. 

Harry sells a couple jars of honey and some strawberry jelly while they are gone, coming back with a blue knit hat on Forest’s head, a big embroidered bumble bee on the front of it. “Where did you find that, honey?” Harry asks, violet standing in front of him, playing with his wedding ring. “A lady sold it at her stand so I bought it from her” she says, tucking Forest in his car seat and giving him a small stuffed animal that has a rattle in the belly- it’s one of his favorite toys. 

“Do you think he’s gonna stay blonde?” Harry asks, the boy only having a thin layer of hair coating his head, it’s a blonde color- almost just like Harry’s when he was a toddler. Even though Harry had the beautiful luscious locks that he has now he didn’t really start getting hair until he was around one year old. “Probably not,” Y/n says, holding a hand out for violet. 

“Hello,” an older woman sings, making the couple turn their head, putting on a warm smile to welcome the customer. “Hi!” Violet chirps, making everyone laugh, Harry softly rubbing her back. “You two look so young! Are these your kids?” She asks, the couple nodding, Y/n trying to calm the slightly fussy baby. It’s noisy at the farmers market and Forest needs to sleep, he is only three months after all. 

“How old are you two?” She makes light conversation while picking out a couple of jars of jam and a jar of honey looking over all the different items they are selling today. “I’m twenty four and she is twenty three” Harry says, the woman nodding. She looks around some more, picking out some of their fruit before letting Harry ring her up. 

“So you make this all yourself?” The woman asks, looking at the mason jar with twine wrapped around the neck of it, a tag on it that reads ‘strawberry jam’ in Y/n's chicken scratch handwriting. “Yeah, we have a big garden and some bees, we make it all ourselves” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and humming while the woman hands him the money. Violet clings to his leg while he talks to the woman, her arms wrapped around his thigh and her face shoved into his leg, Harry softly rubbing her back and giving it light scratches every now and then. 

“Thank you,” the woman sings before walking off, her goodies all wrapped up in a paper bag Harry had given her. “Thank you!” Harry cheers back, bending down and wrapping Violet in a hug, “‘m tired, daddy” Violet says, Harry nodding and rubbing her back, her shirt rising up and exposing her soft back. “I know, pumpkin, I know” Harry says, pulling her up on his hip and holding her close to him, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. 

“Foggy,” Violet says, patting Harry’s chest. Harry nods, walking over to his wife and opening the diaper bag, finding Violets (rather large for her size) frog plushie that Harry had actually made for her. “Here, love-bug,” Harry says, Violet taking her frog in her arms and cuddling it, laying her head back on her daddy’s shoulder, trying to sleep. 

“He’s asleep,” Y/n says, Harry turning and seeing his boy asleep in his car seat, mouth open. Harry chuckles, softly scratching Violets back. 

A large man comes up, suspenders attached to his hefty jeans, he must be a farmer. He looks through some of their stuff, his big husky hands grabbing at one of their jars of pepper jelly. He grabs a jar of honey, some peaches, and jalapenos, setting it all down in front of Harry. “Is this all for you?” He hums, trying to be polite to the intimidating man, stuffing it all into a paper bag with the arm that wasn’t cradling Violet to his chest. 

The man nods, breathing harshly through his nose. Harry nods, sliding the bag towards him, “Fourteen dollars,” he says, the man nodding and digging some money out of his dark leather wallet, plucking a few bills out and handing them to Harry. 

“Thank you!” Harry chirps, shoving the money in the little tin box. The man nods, taking his bag and walking off, leaving the family alone again. 

**

“I’d say we did pretty good today” Harry says, the day now dwindling down, finally putting the remnants of what they hadn't sold up. Their jars on a shelf and their fruit and veggies stored either on the fridge or on their big fruit and veggie baskets. “Yeah, we sold a lot. I’m just happy we still got a good chunk of our blueberry jam, Violet loves that stuff” Y/n says, making her husband nod, organizing everything to his liking. 

“Yeah, I didn’t expect our lavender syrup to sell that well but the sweet old lady’s seemed to be very interested.” Harry notes, chuckling at the memories of today. Y/n nods, the warm lighting of the cottage comforting her- only candles and a few warm colored lamps to light their dark house. “Yeah, I didn’t expect anyone to buy the dandelion lemonade because of the flower but they were very interested.” Y/n says, coming up behind Harry and rubbing his knotted shoulders, rubbing out all the aches and pains from today. 

“Next time let’s bring some of our baked goods, I’m sure everyone would adore your angel food cake.” Harry says, making Y/n giggle, wrapping her arms around her husband. “I only make that for you and Violet” she says, resting her head on his back and cuddling into him. 

Harry’s chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, nodding as he places the last jar of pepper jelly in front of the other, “I’m sure they would love your lavender and poppy-seed muffins then” Harry adds, Y/n nodding. She does enjoy baking, especially trying out new recipes with the huge garden she has access to, fresh ingredients, eggs and fresh milk constantly coming through. Harry is the better one in the kitchen though, but she won’t admit it. 

“I wanna make some sun tea tomorrow, what should I make?” Y/n asks, placing a kiss on the back of her husband's shoulder. Harry pulls her arms around himself even tighter, giving her wrists a squeeze after. “Whatever you would like, and you could add some lavender and lemon to it” he says lowly, his voice getting more deep and scratchy as the clock ticks later. He leans back into her, resting his head on the short space of her shoulder. Placing a kiss on his cheek she noses over his hairline, “yeah,” 

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry says, picking up the kitten that had jumped on the kitchen counter and placing it back on the ground with a scratch to their head. “Let’s,” Y/n agrees, grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs, tracking up to their bedroom to start their nightly routines and head to bed.

A/n: HI! this posted early :( I think I accidentally set it to the wrong time. Thank you to everyone who read and reblogged the first part of my cottage core series, you're all so sweet, it really does mean a lot. My requests are open!! so please request some ideas for cottage core harry!!! This isn't like a consistent story, its more like blurbs that sorta go together. I have part three done already and it will be posted possible later next week since its Sunday for me now :)!!! thank you to everyone again! sorry for the early post and please request some blurb ideas for cottage core Harry :))))))