#kilt extenders

[johnthestitcher]

Kilted Gentlemen: Has Your Kilt ‘shrunk’?

Kilted Gentlemen - did your kilt shrink while hanging in your closet? I bought some kilt extenders (yes - it is a thing), but they buckled onto your existing straps and the second buckle got in the way. So, I bought some 1/4 inch ‘Binding Posts’ - also called ‘Screw-post Fasteners’ (in the Machine Screw section at big box hardware stores). I removed the buckle on the extender and connected it to the existing strap with a binding post - VOILA! It slides thru the buttonhole without having to compensate for the buckle. Regardless, your kilt belt will cover up the extenders. If you have some old belts, you can probably make your own extenders, too!

[wild-joker-out-pleasures]

🎀 Skirts for Joker Out 🎀

The recent posts about skirts made me decide to create this. Why not let ALL FIVE BOYS join in on the fun and joys of wearing a skirt? Feel the breeze? The freedom? Equal opportunity is never a bad thing after all, isn’t it? 🤭

Thus, I have taken it upon myself to choose fitting skirt styles for each of the lads, based on what I think would suit each of them! 🎀

Bojan Cvjetićanin 💓

Very out there, very flirty and attention-grabbing miniskirts with standout details and more than a few dashes of coquette. Chiffon, fringe, sequins, little bows. His fearlessness and outgoing personality would really shine, and the short lengths ensure that this short king would look as tall as possible. 🤭 Swishy and twirly silhouettes also allow him to shake those hips and twerk.

Kris Guštin 🤍

That ass certainly doesn’t lie. Kris could rock long and short skirts alike, and with those long legs. Soft, delicate fabrics that drape beautifully complement his Greek god-like beauty. A sheer long skirt with a slit would suit him particularly well. He is well-suited to both pretty princess styles with dainty details and cute bows, and high-fashion runway-esque silhouettes that hug that peach of his and would make every jaw in the room drop.

Jan Peteh 🖤

Dark and intense Jan is a natural fit for equally dark, edgy and alternative skirt styles. Black leather, dark lace and mesh, as well as some bondage and lingerie elements such as buckles, straps and hardware, complement his black cat nature and his natural sensual energy. Of course, one cannot leave out the classic red and black plaid kilt-style miniskirt a la Vivienne Westwood, a staple in alternative fashion that just screams Jan.

If any of you know the manga and anime "Nana"...Jan is 100% Nana Osaki coded, both in appearance and personality.

Jure Maček 🩵

Sunny and chaotic Jure is all about showing skin, and a natural fit for Y2K sensibilities, the shorter the better. Playful, youthful denim and summery mini lengths are particularly good styles for him, rips and distressed details optional. When he's feeling especially fancy, a bold feather mini is a particularly good fit, in its unconventional and unexpected chaos...that Jure would absolutely pull off. 😆

Nace Jordan 💜

Nace is the epitome of a lovely fall day. He suits so many autumn-inspired styles in earthy tones of brown, orange, warm purple and muted green, touched with varying degrees of coziness, and both soft and tough details. Naturally, that extends to skirts. From fairy grunge maxi skirts, to "sexy nerd" dark academia style, to army green minis (he has nice thighs, of course I wouldn't deny anyone those thighs)...he can carry them all beautifully!

Thank you for your time, and LONG LIVE SKIRTS! 🖤

[officalroyalsofpierreland]

Wedding of HRH Prince Oliver, Duke of Rothsey & HIH Madame Hortense of Francesim Part 1

Travis: Welcome Everyone to a sunny and joyous Edinburgh for dare I say, the wedding of the year! Today, the world has flocked north to witness HRH Prince Oliver of the Scots, Duke of Rothsey finally get his girl and marry the amazing and angelic HIH Madame Hortense of Francesim. I’m Travis Middelton of the Scottish Broadcasting Corporation and I am joined by the one and only Stéphane Bernard of Francesim 2. Sir, it is an honor to present alongside such a legend. Stéphane: Thank you Travis. It is great to be presenting alongside my fellow colleagues at the SBC. Your warm hospitality, and the hospitality of the kingdom have been on show for the past 2 weeks between the charity gala and engagements conducted with both families.

Stéphane: I, myself feel a bit emotional today as the French have been waiting for this moment since Madame Hortense has been born. The first wedding of a French Princess for the first time in over 200 years! Travis: A historic moment indeed! Stéphane and I will be here for every moment of the day, giving context and insights on both Scottish and French elements that will influence these proceedings from our perch here near St. Andrew’s Cathedral.

Stéphane: And I see that Prime Minister Amara Ahmad and her husband are arriving as one of the first political guests of the day. Will we see an abundance of kilts today? Travis: Potentially! Guests who are not in the military are encouraged to wear it and I do know that the groom has at least 3 cousins who are too young for military service so we should be seeing some kilt action. Stéphane: And the groom? We’ve received word that he has an honorary appointment as Colonel of the King’s Highlanders. Travis: We will see him in a kilt! It is the first time in a very long time since a royal groom was seen in a kilt, so this will be a treat.

Stéphane: Well I think some colleagues in Paris are buying lunch on my return as the young people of the office did bet on the Duke wearing a kilt today! We now are seeing Queen Diana of Simdonia and her devoted husband Prince Gerhard entering the cathedral, looking very striking in red, which is a color for both The Kingdom of Scots and Simdonia. Travis: Queen Diana always stuns in her fashion and Prince Gerhard has redefined the word dapper. The bride and groom were present at Prince Gerhard’s Victory Games earlier this year in their first engagement of as fiancés. Stéphane: Yes they were! Prince Oliver won 1st I believe on behalf of the Wounded Warrior Foundation with the support of Madame Hortense. I do believe I have seen many servicemen entering the cathedral. An honor for them, to witness this moment at the invitation of their future king.

Travis: It was quite a touching but not surprising gesture from Prince Oliver as wounded servicemen hold a special place in his heart. Back to the royal arrivals, HM Queen Anastasia of Carrington and her husband HRH the Duke of Clois have arrived looking stunning in light blue. Stéphane: Which has been a color Madame Hortense has been seen in many times. It was the official colour worn by the women of the French imperial family abroad. The Queen and Duke from Carrington seemed to make fast friends with the bride and groom based off stills from the gala.

Stéphane: And one of the first members of the couple’s extended family have arrived. The Grand Duke & Duchess of Bordeaux who are also known as the Duchess and Earl Consort of Carlisle are here with the Grand Duke wearing his Imperial Air Force uniform while the Grand Duchess stuns in a subded dark green Travis: Next to them is the Grand Duke’s twin, Mrs Isabella Villa and her husband Mr. Sebastian Villa. The Bordeaux siblings are cousins to Prince Oliver and the Grand Duke has been seen with Prince Oliver here in Scots as children. Very interesting that we see nothing from Mr. Felipe Valois who has closer ties to the couple since he served aboard a naval submarine with Emperor Napoleon V.

Stéphane: Turning to guests taking their seats inside, King Arnaut and Queen Lorraine of Uspana are looking regal and cheerful today. I do love the homage to Uspanan culture from the King. King Alexander is encouraging national dress today? Travis: Absolutely! If we were to wear kilts but deny other’s their cultural emblems, we’d be a little silly no? I do love the yellow accents on Queen Lorraine, a sunny pop of color inside this very grey cathedral. We have also just received word that Prince Oliver and his best man, Lord Callen MacDonald have left Highland House, where Prince Oliver spent some time with his close friends including several of his cousins.

Stéphane: We’ll be keeping tabs on the groom’s arrival as we look again outside and see that another set of newlyweds have arrived, Queen Viviana II & King Phillippe of the Ionian Union! Philippe is Madame Hortense's first cousin, and second in line to the imperial throne of Francesim. Travis: Wedded bliss looks wonderful on them and I like the feather motif with the pair. And more countries should use purple as a uniform colour.

Stéphane: A regal color for sure. King Harrison of Brighton is being led to his seat. Dare I say, a bold fashion choice to opt for a patterned waistcoat! He was seen conversing with HIM Madame Mère last night, the two sharing the loss of spouses.

Travis: Just now arriving is the ever youthful Queen Elizabeth of Trenton and HRH the Duke of Glassworth. What is in the trentonian water and how can I get it? If I get to age as gracefully as Her Majesty and His Royal Highness, I would consider myself extra blessed.

@bridgeportbritt @royalhouseofcarrington @nexility-sims @funkyllama @empiredesimparte @covingtons @trentonsimblr

[writingfromasgard]

Original post // Masterlist

Cw: purely anti-graves self-indulgence, calling a kilt a skirt, probably inaccurate horse info

The battery-powered mini-fan wasn't doing much for the heat beaming down on you as you glanced around the various studs being offered up for breeding.

The best - the ad had said. You found them severely lacking in the features you wanted for your beauties back home. Not that they weren't nice horses.

You stopped at one horse - a handsome American Paint horse with red blotches. No particularly beautiful pattern in the blotches but it's shoulders and neck were well-proportioned.

"Mighty fine stud, isn't he? Bred him myself." The Texan accent breaks you out of your assessment mode. "Phillip Graves, nice to meet you."

Out of courtesy, you shake the extended hand, letting go quickly.

"He's alright." You go back to looking over the horse.

"He's one of my best. Great temperament. I've got a few more in the back like him though. I wouldn't mind showin' you if you can keep it a secret."

Red flags rose - either these weren't the best horses he'd had to offer or it's a lousy excuse to get you alone.

"Problem with that is my girls take after me." You explain, glancing around at the other section - those meant for riding/herding horses.

"What's that mean?" Phillip asked.

You adjust your sunglasses on your head. "Only the best studs get to ride bareback.. and your boys seem to take after you."

There was a heavy silence before you spoke again, "You know anything about that rider checking out your quarter horses?"

You brought your sunglasses down, eyeing the man with enough balls to wear a skirt. He was beefy - if anyone gave him shit about it, he could probably knock them out.

A scoff came from Phillip, "John Price's hands."

"Do the introduction and I'll put in an order for this one." You grin, glancing to see the flash of anger across Phillip's face.

It fades fast, a plastic-like grin replacing it. "Haha, alright. Sounds like a deal, sweetheart."

[panther-os]

Full Name and Family Headcanons

For the extended 141 family plus the fruity bastard betrayer (derogatory (affectionate)), some more complete than others. If any of this is directly contradicted by canon, I don't care, that's why they're headcanons

Soap

John Steven Donald MacTavish

Two loving parents, the youngest with at least 3 older siblings, all sisters. Closely enough related to the Chief of the Name and Arms of MacTavish to a) be considered low upper class and b) know his exact place in the line of hereditary succession. Also the kilt he wears on special occasions is always the modern MacTavish tartan, do your research. Grew up in Bonnyrigg outside Edinburgh and is emotionally attached to Sir Salter Scott

Ghost

Simon Lorcán Riley

Same family and circumstances as '09 Ghost (extremely poor, abusive dad, oldest of two boys), but give him loving maternal grandparents and three cousins. He's Irish by ethnicity and heritage, which a few family members kept alive and passed down to him, but British by nationality. His great-great-(great-?)grandparents migrated to Manchester during the Great Hunger, but his aunt moved back to Ballylongford where some of the family originally lived. His cousins and maternal grandmother are all alive but think he's dead and he keeps it that way for their safety. His middle name is after his maternal grandfather who died when he was young and was given to him by his grandma. I do also hc he's trans and have a deadname headcanon for him but I don't share those. The specific neighborhood he grew up in inside Manchester was Beswick

Gaz

Kyle Adam Garrick

Grew up in Brixton in London, relatively poor with two loving but working parents, but also with an enormous tight-knit community and more neighborhood aunties and uncles and cousins than he knew what to do with. Has one baby sister but she's 20 years younger than him so she's a baby baby and he was already enlisted and moved out when she was born

Price

John Matthew Price

Grew up in Anfield in Liverpool, near the football stadium. Avid fan, ropes Ghost into Liverpool vs Man United debates every season. Ghost doesn't even like football. Middle class, working dad and stay at home mom, older sister, younger sister

Roach

Gary Parker Sanderson

Working poor, older sister, younger brother

Laswell

Katherine Emma Laswell

Middle class child of divorce, no step-siblings or step-parents, lesbian wine aunt who's basically Kate Kane (coincidentally Kate's favorite superhero)

Nikolai

Nikolai Antonovich Pokrovsky

Absent parents, one younger sister

Farah

Farah Leyla Karim

Canon family - two loving parents killed by AQ, one older brother. Her middle name is the Georgian spelling of the Arabic name Layla (see my post about Urzikstan and Abkhazia for why this spelling)

Alex

Alexander Jeremiah Keller

Two older sisters, two triplet sisters (one an hour older, one three hours younger), two younger sisters, single mom, also raised by aunt and grandmother

Alejandro

Alejandro Ernesto Vargas Leon

Grew up working poor, dad died when he was three, mom had to work, older brother 4ys older took jobs for the cartel starting at 12-ish to make ends meet and left Ale as the "man of the house" at 8. Also has one 4ys younger sister (same dad, mom was pregnant) and 12ys younger twin baby brothers (different dad who chose not to be in the picture, oopsie babies). He loves the twins but wants to hang them upside down by their shoelaces more often than not, his sister is just as mischievous but more mature and subtle about it which made her easier to raise

Rudy

Rodolfo Ildefonso Parra Rosales

Born into a poor family, cartel killed his parents when he was three, adopted by a single mom after that. His new family is unrelated to the Cartel but his bisabuela is just as feared and respected as El Sin Nombre and La Araña before her, if not more in some parts of the city. Learned his best chancla skills from her. Only child but grew up in a massive multigenerational multifamily home with at least 20 older cousins - was the baby until he was 7 and now he's the second youngest

Graves

Phillip Windsor Graves

Upper class, born to parents who had an heir to the company because it was expected of them but who didn't actually want or like kids. Essentially raised by a rotating cast of nannies

[scotianostra]

As of 1st August 1747 the Act of Proscription prohibits the wearing of highland garb, in particular tartans and kilts, except within the British army.

Although the act became law in 1747, it is called the 1746 act as this is the date the act started it’s journey into legislation.

Perhaps the most widely and frequently repeated ‘fact’ surrounding the early history of tartan is that its use was banned by the 1746 Act of Proscription following the defeat of the Jacobites at the Battle of Culloden in April the previous year. The Act has also been credited with banning the playing of bagpipes, speaking Gaelic and gathering family members together in public. In fact, the Act banned none of these.

The post-Culloden legislation followed the earlier, and ineffectual, 1716 and 1725 Acts and was:

‘An act for the more effectual disarming the highlands of Scotland; and for the more effectual securing the peace of the said highlands; and for restraining the use of the highland dress.’

Essentially, the third Act was a revision of the earlier 1725 one but with an extra section added to ban what the Government considered to be a martial dress that was central to the Jacobite identity. The relevant section of the Act stated that:

“That, from and after the first day of August, one thousand seven hundred and forty seven, no Man or Boy, within that Part of Great Britain called Scotland, other than such as should be employed as Officers and Soldiers in his Majesty’s Forces, should, on any Pretence whatsoever, wear or put on the Clothes, commonly called Highland Clothes; (that is to say,) The Plaid, Philebeg or Little Kilt, Trowse, Shoulder belts, or any Part whatsoever of what peculiarly belongs to the Highland Garb, and that no Tartan, or Party-coloured Plaid or Stuff, should be, used for Great Coats or for Upper Coats, under the Penalties therein mentioned; and the Time appointed for laying aside the said Highland Dress was, in certain Cases therein mentioned, further prolonged by several Acts, one made in the twentieth, and the other in the twenty-first Year of the Reign of his said late Majesty King George the Second: And whereas it is judged expedient that so much of the Acts above mentioned as restrains the Use of the Highland Dress should be repealed: Be it therefore enacted by the King’s most Excellent Majesty, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in this present Parliament assembled, and by the Authority of the fame, That so much of the Acts above-mentioned, or any other Act or Acts of Parliament, as restrains the Use of the Highland Dress, be, and the fame are hereby repealed.”

Not only were Soldiers explicitly exempt from the Dress Act but women were implicitly excluded too; and, judging from the number of surviving portraits the ban seems to have been widely ignored by gentry of both Jacobite and Hanoverian persuasions.

The Act proved difficult to enforce in the remote Highlands and the period of grace proved inadequate and had to be extended (except for landowners and their sons); initially to 1st August 1748, and then to 25th December 1748, for the plaid and kilt and to 1st August 1749, for the other proscribed clothing. As seen in the second pic John MacKay of Rosshall in Strathnaver was one of those that ignored the Act. In October 1751 he appeared before the sheriff in Inverness for ‘wearing the Highland Clothes’ (note, it was not for wearing tartan). There is no indication of what clothes he was wearing but, in accordance with the Act, he was convicted and imprisoned for six months

If you look at the third image I have posted you will see the date is 1761, so tartan was clearly being marketed and so, at least in Edinburgh., it would be another 21 years before the act was repealed.

[the-olympics-olympics]

Marathon runner Vanderlei de Lima, whom few had picked to be a contender, surprised the crowd by taking the lead at the 13-mile mark. After extending his lead for the next nine miles, he was suddenly approached from his left side by a bystander from Ireland named Cornelius Horan. Wearing an orange kilt, green knee socks and a green beret, Horan shoved de Lima out of the middle of the course and into the crowd, stopping the runner’s progress. A subsequent investigation revealed that the mentally unbalanced Horan, a defrocked Irish priest, was simply looking for publicity.

Taekwondoin Angel Matos was winning 3-2, with 1:02 left in the second round, when he fell to the mat after being hit by his opponent, Kazakhstan's Arman Chilmanov. Matos was sitting there, awaiting medical attention, when he was disqualified for taking too much injury time. Fighters get one minute, and Matos was disqualified when his time ran out. Matos angrily questioned the call, pushed a judge, then pushed and kicked referee Chakir Chelbat of Sweden, who required stitches in his lip. Matos spat on the floor and was escorted out. Interestingly, in 2010 the Royal Mail issued a.. familiar looking commemorative Taekwondo stamp in the leadup to the London 2012 Olympics.

[bluemoonperegrine]

WIP Wednesday, Layla edition

Here's the start of the "Layla comes to town" Hallmark by Knight fic! It gets a little rough toward the end, but I'll edit it to something palatable eventually. Gotta finish trashing a Waffle House first.

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

“Deja vu,” Jack said via his mic and the Bluetooth earpiece under Marc’s white cowl and mask. The windscreen Jack had gotten for his mic worked better than Marc had expected. “You too?”

“A little,” Marc replied, gazing at the partially wooded, partially scrubby highlands a thousand feet below them and extending ahead. Nearly a month ago he’d approached this area from the southeast with a mourning Jack wolfed out and howling on his back. A lot had happened, more than seemed possible in three months. Some of it had been bad, but the overwhelming majority was good.

Smiling under the white silk and linen of his mask, Marc squeezed Jack’s arm briefly. “This is a much better reason to be in the middle of nowhere.”

Jack hugged him more tightly in reply. He pointed at the grid of ranches on the plateau just ahead. “That’s Barona Mesa, so that mountain on the other side of the river is Eagle Peak.”

“Got it.” Although they, Layla, and Robin and Bri had the GPS coordinates of the remote location they’d chosen for a meeting place, Marc and Jack preferred to navigate via landmarks. As they’d planned, Marc turned east to follow Boulder Creek along the south flank of Eagle Peak. Boulder Creek Preserve was only a few miles away.

A glint of gold drew their attention as they made a steep descent to the preserve’s dirt parking area. “Is that her?” Jack asked over wind noise. The soundproofing could only do so much.

Marc caught glimpses of his best friend’s dark curls, and gold armor through gaps in a valley oak’s canopy. “Looks like. I think Bri and Robin are there too.”

Jack hopped off Marc’s back when they were 15 feet from the ground. His hiking backpack nearly threw him off balance when he landed in a superhero pose with one hand touching the ground. “Citizens,” he declared, “have no fear! Moon Knight and White Wolf are here!”

Layla, Bri, and Robin stared at Jack as Marc landed and Khonshu’s armor disappeared. Then they all burst out in laughter.

Layla put her hands over her heart, currently protected by Taweret’s gold plate and red and white silk. “Oh, thank heavens!”

Marc threw his arms around his best friend, who returned the bear hug.

“White Wolf?” Bri, the tallest of the group at 5’ 10”, gasped between gales of laughter. Although Marc knew that Robin’s spouse was non-binary—or two-spirit, as the Kumeyaay put it, seeing them in hiking pants and a T-shirt with stubble shadowing their jaw was a bit jarring. The last time they’d gotten together to see their friends’ band perform in the city Bri had gone “full femme,” as Jack put it. With their shoulder-length black hair styled and flattering makeup and a dress, Bri and Robin, who’d dressed similarly, were an attractive couple. They still were in practical hiking gear, but in a different way.

No one had harassed Robin and Bri, nor Marc and Jack, who’d worn his kilt that night. Marc had been ready to fight bigots when they inevitably turned up. It hadn’t happened, which was astonishing and encouraging. Marc’s reluctance to wear the kilt Jack had bought for him weakened a little further.

Wiping away tears of laughter, Robin asked Jack, “How are you White Wolf? Your fur is dark!” 

“‘Brown Wolf’ sounds terrible. And besides, Marc’s suit is white.”

Layla giggled as she pulled back and fixed her bright smile on Marc. “It’s been too long!”

“It has! Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure.” Keeping one arm around Marc’s waist, she shifted to stand beside him. Nodding at Jack, who jumped back when Robin produced one of Layla’s gold short swords she must have had behind her back, Layla murmured, “Damn, Marc.”

“I know, right?”

Jack looked over his shoulder and gave them a wolfish grin. 

Introductions, Steven nudged.

[thetragicallynerdy]

So for NYE some pals and I had a slideshow party (where each person puts together a 5-10 minute slideshow presentation on whatever topic they want and we all present) and the topic I chose for mine was The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read. I said I would share it here if this is the topic I went with, out of some other fun options like "why peanut butter should be in s'mores: I am right and all of you are wrong", "paw patrol and the patriarchy" and "top ten funniest pride clothing i've found online." The Tingler topic won, so without further ado, here u go pals:

The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read, by Hank - a NYE Presentation

(Be warned this is a long post, all slides have IDs for accessibility)

[ID: The title slide of my slideshow which reads: The Top Ten Chuck Tingle Books I Want To Read: A Definitive Ranking based on Title, Cover Art, and Vibes alone, By Hank. The slideshow background, called "couture," is a black background with a fancy white overlay embellished with different kinds of patterns. It gives a sense of fashion and flair for the dramatic. It is the same background for every slide. End ID.]

Number Ten - Eaten Right by the Mysterious S Symbol Everyone Used to Draw.

[ID: a slide with the cover of the Chuck Tingle book listed above. The cover shows a curvy woman in underwear, bra, and open shirt smiling and touching her hair. Beside her is a neon teal "S" symbol that was popular in the early 2000s, made by drawing 6 lines and connecting them. Text on the slide reads:

I can’t stop laughing about the S symbol

That’s it that’s pretty much the entire reason it’s on here

(Also the model is v cute)

End ID.]

Number Nine - Taken by the Gay Unicorn Biker.

[ID: another slide, with book cover and text. The cover shows a very muscle-y man wearing low-cut jeans and an open leather jacket, with a unicorn wearing leather and riding a motorcyle behind it. The book cover has a sepia tone. Text on the slide reads:

Very here for the gay unicorn biker

How does a unicorn bike when it only has hooves? Unclear

The sepia tone makes this seem like it’s gonna be gritty in a fun way

End ID.]

Number Eight - The Unicorn Them Fatale Pounds My Non-Binary Butt Mysteriously

[ID: another similar slide. The book cover on it shows a non-binary person wearing black skinny jeans and a black vest and thin black choker sitting on a bar stool. Behind them stands a pink anthropomorphic unicorn wearing shiny leather pants and a black long sleeve crop top. The cover gives off noir vibes, while simultaneously giving off goth or emo vibes. Text on the slide reads:

Very here for non-binary smut

Also very here for this goth/emo unicorn

Them fatale is a fucking great pun

End ID.]

Number Seven - Glazed by the Gay Living Donuts

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man looking over his shoulder seductively. He is surrounded by glazed donuts, with a white kitchen in the background. Text on the slide reads:

I am but a simple person who likes donuts a lot

The donuts look very tasty

The use of a donut in the word donut is A++

I want to know if the sex gets more creative than just fucking a donut hole (I suspect it will, because it’s Chuck Tingle)

End ID.]

Number Six - My Dungeon Master Is a T-Rex Rules Lawyer But Fortunately I Rolled A Crit On The Pound My Butt Check

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a man wearing a kilt, wide leather belt, and metal pauldron extending to armour over his left arm. He is otherwise shirtless, and smiles while giving a thumbs up. Behind him is an anthropomorphic dinosaur wearing a business suit. They stand in an office. Text on the slide reads:

As a dungeon master this is hilarious

SO curious about the contrasting costumes, and whether or not they also LARP

Is the rules-lawyer T-Rex also an actual lawyer?? Read on to find out??

End ID.]

Number Five - I Freed This Handsome Cargo Ship From The Suez Canal But Now He's Stuck In My Butt

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man with a very hairy chest wearing boxers and standing with one hand on his chin and the other on his hip. Behind him is a photo of the Ever Given cargo ship, with a face photoshopped onto the front of the ship. Text on the slide reads:

The Ever Given my beloved

Kind of in love with the face just stuck on the front of the ship

Very curious about the plot lines

That dude’s chest hair is a+++

End ID.]

Number Four - Moby Butt

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a woman wearing a bar maid style period clothing of dress with a tight bodice over a lacy white off the shoulder shirt, as well as a black choker necklace and an eye patch. She crosses her arms and looks coolly at the camera. Behind her is a scene of a stormy ocean. Floating in the water is a butt that has a smiling face photoshopped onto it. Text on the slide reads:

This is a GREAT bodice ripper type cover – just look at her dress! And her eye patch! And the stormy seas!

It legitimately took me a while to realize there was a butt in the seas but it looks very happy

I’ve never read Moby Dick but what better way to start than with a lesbian smut parody

End ID.]

Number Three - Canada Pounds My Butt and Covers My Pancakes with Real Maple Syrup in an Erotic Way also it is Delicious

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man who has a bodybuilder physique standing in front of a road intersection in what looks like the Canadian prairies. A map of Canada covered with the red and white Canadian flag, but with a smiling face photoshopped over where the maple leaf in the flag should be, floats behind him in the sky. Text on the slide reads:

As a Canadian I feel contractually obligated to want to read this

Also I love that it’s just a map of Canada with a face

Here for the prairie setting

Also for the maple syrup and pancakes lets be real

Canada deserves all the gay sex

End ID.]

Number Two - Bisexual Polyhedral Role-Playing Dice Orgy

[ID: another slide. The book cover on it shows a shirtless man with washboard abs standing in a living room with white walls and white furniture. He has his hands on his hips and looks off to the side with a somewhat disintrested expression. Floating around him are a set of seven blue polyhedral roleplaying dice. Each dice has been photoshopped to have a human face on it. Text on the slide reads:

Super curious about how dice fuck without any body parts other than faces

The dice all look remarkably horny even if the young man does not

Love me some bi representation

I got bi pride dice for Christmas and now I will imagine they are in this book

End ID.]

Number One - A Butt In the Mist: Stirred to the core of my bodice by the Duchess Triceratops of Helena

[ID: another slide. The book cover shows a woman in a slutty steampunk costume consisting of underwear, garter belts, a leather corset vest top, an ascott, white gloves, a top hat, goggles, and a cane. She stands beside an anthropomorphic triceratops wearing a full-length period gown with puffy sleeves. In the background is what looks like a castle in the mist. Text on the slide reads:

The costuming is fantastic

It gives very steampunk vibes which I’m into

Feels like there will be good plot and romance and intrigue along with the smut

Who doesn’t love dinosaurs?? Especially dinosaurs in costume??

End ID.]

And last but not least - Honourable Mentions

[ID: a slide showing three Chuck Tingle book covers, with no text besides the title "Honourable Mentions." The books are:

My Macaroni and Cheese is a Lesbian and also she is my laywer, which shows a woman in lingerie posing beside a large bowl of macaroni and cheese that has a human face photoshopped on it.

Pounded by the realization that Chuck Tingle's erotic works are a singular piece of art that skewers conservative fears of moral decay by re-purposing them as the promise of a sex-positive utopia. It shows a shirtless buff man with a neutral facial expression standing beside a book that has a bearded face photoshopped on the cover.

Petrichor is a lesbian and she gets me off in a cozy way during a much needed rainstorm. It shows a woman in white underwear, ribbed crop top sweater, and stockings beside a large raindrop photoshopped with a smiling face on it.

End ID.]

Honourable mentions chosen because I love Mac and Cheese, Petrichor is one of my favourite words, and also because the one about his erotic works speaks deeply to me as someone who also sometimes writes smut.

For those curious about my ranking system - I read through the entirety of Chuck Tingle's works on Goodreads, picked the ones the spoke to me the most, and then loosely ranked them based on what I'd want to read first. I didn't go with the more meta or political parody ones, because while I love them, they're not what I'd look for in smut.

Thank you for attending my presentation, go forth and read all the smut

[new-berry]

In the same universe as the other Jordan / Kieran / John tomfoolery “your name is a feeling” no John in this though.

All fiction, not real, made up, NSFW etc etc. Set, essentially, a few hours ago really, is there a heat wave in Scotland right now? Well it’s fiction. You are going to have to - much like me- pretend there are no spelling / grammar whoopsies

Kieran’s never played a summer sport. Football grabbed him, right in the jugular before anything else had a chance.

Something about knowing there will be at least one game in snow or sleet means he loves a late summer heat wave.

Even when it’s too hot to drift off to sleep. There’s a game coming up and even only half under the top sheet only it’s like if he moves an inch he’ll start to sweat.

Maybe it’s a real curse? Some Sunderland fan gave a witch a pint of blood and both sides of his pillow will be hot forever.

Every sound in the hotel is like a dripping tap. Impossible to ignore, the anticipation of the next drop getting his skin twitching in advance. Sunderland. He can’t get his brain to cool down any more than his skin.

Kieran texts Jordan “too hot to sleep.” Includes a string of random emojis because Jordan will try and make them mean something but it really is just a sun then a ball then a pig then flames.

There is no reply, not shocking at one in the morning. “Can’t sleep.” He sends with a unicorn and a kilt. Includes all the flame icons this time.

He’s not anticipating an answer, more on the off chance the mad bastard has got enough going on in his own head he’s lying awake in bed practising insults to his team for making him work.

Kieran’s team is a constant checklist in the back of his mind, Miggy’s injury, Bruno’s distraction, whatever is brewing between Anthony and Elliot and Lewis. If Matt can head off that impending disaster.

He rolls to the other side of the bed, still hot, the witch's curse clearly extending to all linen.

His phone lights up “open the door.”

Jordan doesn’t go much for emojis. For capital letters or niceties. Kieran shoves what’s left of the sheet around his feet off and opens the door like asked.

Jordan looks softer than usual. Hair not slicked back, in a blue vest and shorts. His feet in flip flops.

Kieran tugs him in the room. “You’re not worried about room check?”

“Harry also can’t sleep.” Jordan shrugs. “Passed him in the staircase headin’ somewhere improper.”

Jordan runs his thumbs under the dark lines under Kieran’s eyes. “Was thinking of heading out anyway when you texted.”

Kieran snorts “off for a Starbucks run?”

Jordan laughs and slides his hands around Kieran’s hips right into his underwear, cupping his ass. “I was thinking about a swim. Not a booty call.”

“Don’t see a towel.”

Kieran drops his voice, just for the way Jordan’s eyelids will lower, the way he will lick his lips. “Don’t see trunks.”

“Distracted by a text love.”

Jordan tilts his head back and Kieran runs his hands up Jordan’s forearms, resting on the inside of his elbows, nuzzling his neck.

Gareth might huff in a meeting but he doesn’t give a shit about the older players sleeping arrangements if it doesn’t affect the team. Jordan using the stairs not the elevator sends a little thrill through Kieran. Stupid to feel like a boy getting away with something.

Like being a kid having a midnight snack, like slipping out a bedroom window to meet your mates when everyone else is sleeping.

He kisses Jordan’s skin, nipping a little. Jordan makes a soft “mm” noise but lets Kieran have his way. Asks, “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Too hot. I can't get comfortable.”

“Go in the hallway, like a sauna in there compared to the rooms.” Kieran laughs. Right into the notch at the bottom of Jordan’s throat.

“Don’t want to put more clothes on.” It’s a cheesy line, and Kieran only says it to make Jordan laugh which he does. Tries to stifle it.

“You don’t have much to take off.”

Jordan’s hands move firm and hot over the round of Kieran’s ass.

“If you can’t sleep and you don’t want to swim, well then, what do you want?” Jordan pulls Kieran against him, neither of them hard yet but Kieran can feel the bump of their cocks getting interested .

Kieran tilts his head up for a kiss, Jordan gives him a lazy grin first. His line was even cheesier but Kieran isn’t going to call him on it.

Too hot and too late for anything acrobatic, just hands that roll over slowly, Kieran’s chest feels like a kiln. Too fucking hot, something forming inside it.

“Get naked,” Jordan says, helpfully tugging his pants down from the bottom until Kieran kicks them off.

Jordan pulls off his clothes too, leaves them in a puddle of blue and England logos on his flip flops.

Jordan nugdges him back and Kieran goes easily. The pull and promise of sleep another anticipation he won’t share with Jordan. Can hear him bitching he’s not a sleeping tablet, not a magic pill. Not a witches curse.

Kieran stretches, the pleasure of the resistance of his muscles as Jordan takes a lazy slow path around his upper body, over his collar and sternum.

Kieran’s not going to drift of like this, not exactly, running his fingers across Jordan’s hair rather theough through it. Jordan slides across his nipples, he sucks and coaxes them with his tongue, only switching sides after he’s satisfied with some internal marker he’s chosen, how hard they get maybe, how much Kieran sighs.

Jordan is a magic pill though, Kieran shifting around the bed as Jordan’s hands prompt, not focused on anything more than the next place Jordan’s mouth touches until he says; “Spread your legs for me. Open up.”

Wet fingers sit at Kieran’s hole, gently nudging and then sliding in easy.

“Fuck,” Kieran gasps. He’d seen Jordan pull the lube out of pocket before he’d kicked his shorts off, more an expectation, his brain and mouth preoccupied with the kiss.

“Good?” Jordan’s voice is low, he’s as into it. Kieran doesn’t know if he plans on fucking him or just jerking off but either is fine. His mind distracted from everything that had consumed him up until a few minutes ago.

“Yeah.” He rocks into the push of Jordan’s fingers.

Jordan plays for a while, caressing just inside and then dragging soft fingertips over his rim. Even though it’s late the heat waves feels like a cocoon not an oppressive blanket like before. Kieran shifts but not a lot as Jordan slides his fingers in deeper.

Can feel sweat soft in the small of his back. Keeps his eyes half open, watching Jordan come closer for the occasional kiss then pull back to watch his fingers open Kieran up.

Kieran enjoys lying there his body biddable to a slow encroaching orgasam. Thinks about calling Jordan a possessive bastard out loud, but he’s gotten used to it. The way his eyes gleam when Kieran lies back for him.

“I bet I could fuck your throat so easy right now, all the way in,” Jordan says. “You’re completely relaxed.”

Kieran licks his lips and smiles. “That’s a good idea. It’d be nice. Go for it.” Jordan crooks his fingers, gets his prostate in revenge at ‘nice.’. Kieran twitches, from slow moving to boiling, sweat pricking along his hairline.

Not following his own idea, Jordan slides his fingers out and his cock in. Kieran pulls his knees up, lets his legs splay out. Doesn’t try and hold on, Jordan settling on deep thrusts into the v of his body. Runs his hands over the skin he can feel, Jordan’s shoulders covered in freckles. The dips on the small of hia back.

His arms and legs feel as heavy as his eyes. “Gonna fall asleep.” He slurs out, his own cock is hard but it’s almost like a distraction, sleep tugging him.

“I’m not stopping if you do.” Jordan says. Doesn’t sound angry, more like he’s laughing but Kieran can’t be bothered to be annoyed by it.

“Don’t have to, you have my okay to keep going.”

Kieran kinda hears, kinda thinks he imagines, the “can’t fucking say that shit.” That Jordan gets out, fucking faster.

Jordan comes with a grunt and Kieran cups his cheeks and guides him down for a drowsy kiss.

Coming is almost an afterthought. Jordan doesn’t pull out, just rubs his hand over Kieran. It’s pleasure that comes in little eddies. Little waves nice but not urgent, like digging your toes in the sand on a warm day. Just a burst of pleasure and then it’s like Kieran knows exactly what tired is.

All the little noises in the hotel are relaxing now. Jordan pulls out and they share a couple more lazy kisses. Jordan lying alongside him. But it’s too hot to touch much, Kieran’s ankle against Jordan’s calf, a couple of their fingers knitted together.

Kieran feels caught between both feelings, sleepiness and bliss.

“Stay huh? I’ll pay your fine if you get caught.” Jordan snickers as he rolls on his side and rubs gently at Kierans hipbone. “I’ll make John pay it.” He says. “Teach him for not being here.”

“Okay,” Kieran murmurs. He stops fighting sleep, dropping off wondering if what he feels is breathing or the rhythm of Jordan’s fingers.

[amostdelectablescribbler]

I have been summoned

Like a shitty support character in a fighting game

by @tea-and-mercury

The

Get To Know My OC!

thingymajig

anyways, i was told not to forget the questions, so here we go. I’ll do an interview of the cast of Steel Horses and Hot Irons (wip intro in the pipeline) in a sort of group therapy style dealio. For the timeline, this is after the story has ended because before would be hard to orchestrate.

i shall invite to join me, my favourite felon @squarebracket-trick and a few mutuals, such as @macabremoons@stesierra@silverslipstream@leisoree@etherealatheling

Sooo. We ball.

(Start) I was sat, back fusing with my usual armchair, waiting with a mug of coffee and some files. The cat was lazing around, pondering whether or not he should move his fatness from one comfy beanbag to the other, comfier beanbag. The office was white-walled, with many a painting posted upon them. Basquiat, Kim Diaz Holm’s friendlier-looking works, one by Alan MacDonald, and a larger print of Domingo Zapata’s Mona Lisa, Queen of Hearts. These only served to create a friendlier, more comfortable atmosphere, in which people could just admire the art instead of being interviewed if they so chose. The moment I finished my coffee, a knock sounded from the door, almost metallic, preceding an impossibly massive man in equally massive armour poking a camo green, helmeted head around the door.

He spoke with a dense, deep and gravelly Russian accent, “Hello? Is this the right room? I was told number 42?” I nodded to him and gestured he came inside, which he struggled to do, due to the door being built for people in his size. His comrades followed in with him, 5 in all, of varying sizes.

“I didn’t think they made doors in my size here.” The massive man in the military juggernaut suit chortled through his helmet, holding the door for his comrades.

“I didn’t think they made you.” I replied, still taking in his vastness, he had to be at least 3 feet wide at the shoulder. This is a man who had to duck to get into my office, then shimmy through one huge limb at a time. The 5 of them started to make themselves comfortable, the fat cat had decided it liked the mountain of military gear, and had wobbled into his lap, sponging up the affection.

There was a not-so-huge-but-still-quite-big one in a kilt, who had a sword on his back, huge long dreadlocks and a girl in a black… -wetsuit? Looked like it, but probably wasn’t- glued to his side, trying to hide behind him, a black mask and long, glossy, jet-black hair over her face. The kilted one spoke with a Scottish accent, “Ach, don’ mind her, she’s just shy. She’ll warm up soon.” The girl couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall, and built like a stiff breeze would carry her off, with ribs showing beneath the suit. The kilted one and the girl sat down next to the huge man, taking up all the space on the sofa i had brought in, which creaked as they all got comfy. The other two were snuggling up on some beanbags, a muscular woman with wide shoulders and strong arms, and a scrawnier, shorter man in motorbike leathers, instead of the military scavenges of the rest of the crew. “So, I’ve read the files I’ve been given about you by management, and I’m impressed. You’re quite famous. Still, the photos they gave don’t quite match the assorted helmets and masks I’m seeing, so, who am I talking to?” I extended a hand to be shaken by each.

“Rasputin Romanov. It’s a pleasure.” Rasputin, the huge one, shook my hand firmly, nearly breaking my wrist. The kilted one moved in next, “I’m Callum Henderson, she’s Becca,” he pointed to the girl in between him and Rasputin, “And those two lovebirds are Claudia and Sorren.” Sorren didn’t go for the handshake, instead opting for a casual fistbump. “Hey, howzit?” He had a high voice and an Auzzie accent. “Good, thank you. Now, I’m afraid I’m in the clock, so I’ll get the interview started:”

1 - Are you named after anyone?

Sorren: I’m technically Sorren Jr, but my dad’s dead, so I’m the last Sorren in my family. Anyone else? Nope? Just me.

2: When was the last time you cried?

Callum: Well, I don’t remember, really. It’s not the most recent, but I broke my leg when I was a wee lad falling off a tree. Cried a bit then. Claudia: Sorren once f-

Sorren: Shush up! She broke her pelvis about a year ago. Let’s not talk about how.

Rasputin: I don’t cry. I am Spetsnaz. I do not have time to cry.

Claudia: I punched you in the nuts last month. Cried then.

Rasputin (deflated): Like Sorren say, Shush.

3: Do you have kids?

Callum: We’re all a bit of an adoptive family for Becca, have been for a lil over a year and a half.

4: Do you use sarcasm?

Sorren (sarcastic): Who, me? Never. No. Not in my wildest dreams.

Claudia (whispering, cheeky): I’m in his wildest dreams.

Sorren: I said SHUSH!

5: What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Rasputin: Eyes. You meet someone, you look them in the eye. If there is light in there, you do not need to worry. Callum: Build. Big fella, little fella, what size of fella?

Claudia: How punchable their face is.

6: What colour are your eyes?

Rasputin (clanking his helmet): For me to know, and you to find out by taking the helmet off.

Callum: Used to have deuteranopia, but I lost one eye, so I don’t know if I have green or brown.

Claudia: Brown

Sorren: Blue

Callum (gesture to Becca): She doesn’t get out much, so we don’ often see her eyes. ‘Think they’re black?

7: Any special talents?

Claudia (enthusiastically): Punching

Sorren: Guns

Callum: Explosives

Rasputin (smug): I do like Sorren and Claudia together, but better.

8: Scary movies or happy endings?

All: Scary movies

9: Where were you born?

Callum: Ninwells hospital, Dundee.

Sorren: Fuckin’… Melbourne, mate, all the way.

Rasputin (far away): Vostok.

Claudia: Born in Busan, raised in San Diego.

10: What are your hobbies?

Claudia (smug): Punching Sorren.

Sorren: I used to race motorbikes, now I do stunt riding on the ‘Busa when i’m not being punched.

Rasputin (doing front double bicep pose): I workout.

Callum: Card tricks’ ‘bout all I got. ‘sides being a parent for Becca.

“And Becca?” I asked, trying and failing not to pry too much.

“She likes oil crayons.”

11: Do you have any pets?

Rasputin: I had a dog before the war. He came with me to Spetsnaz training. Tough dog. He was big Newfoundland. 70 kilos. I called him Medved. Translate to bear.

12: What sports do you play/have you played?

Callum: I was a rugby boy, in my school days.

Claudia: Boxing is my whole thing.

Sorren (cheeky): No shit. Ouch, okay, point made, but I’m still right.

Rasputin: I did wrestling and Judo before Spetsnaz. Did MMA in Spetsnaz. Now I can pick you up and kick you like a soccer ball.

Callum: It’s football, chunky.

Rasputin (indignant): I was taught Soccer ball.

13: How tall are you?

Callum: 6 foot 0, on the mark.

Sorren: 5’6

Claudia: 5’8, here

Callum: Becca’s just short. We don’t really know. Gonna eyeball it at 5 foot, tops.

Rasputin (chuffed): 6’6. 7’ in the suit

14: What was your favourite subject at school?

Callum: I don’t remember. I liked my chemistry teacher, but i hated chemistry.

15: What is your dream job?

Callum: I wanted to do movie effects, but i found a better job being a merc with my crew.

Sorren: I was livin’ the dream, ‘fore the war. I was a motoGP rider. Loved it.

-end-

fuck me this is a long one. Thank you for sticking around and reading all my bullshit [:

now, i did the tags already so have this instead:

Paddington’s cousin from New York. “Ey, boss, where you headed?”

[breitzbachbea]

I wrote a Charco drabble that is very much actually about their families. Yeet.

~*~

"What's it like to be an only child?" Marco asked one day. Lorenzo in the kitchen, Marco spread on the sofa, in between fabric samples. Charlie was toying with a model car that Marco had gifted him and helped him with. Classic case of the gifter had himself in mind as well.

Charlie smiled at him with a frown and then shrugged. "Better than having siblings, I suppose. I dinnae. I mean, I basically grew up around Harry and Soph, because their Ma, Freya, was my Ma's best friend. I got more gifts than others, bigger ones. Well, until my dad ... you know, didn't see eye to eye with my wishes anymore." He had picked up the car and looked through the windows with one eye shut, to figure if it was crooked. "But I don't really know. More freedom? You tell me what it was like with six - I mean seven - siblings and tight money. That's more like what Ma tells, she was the third of five."

"I dunno," Marco said. Leg over the backrest. Sinfully expensive velvet blue fabric draped over the leg that stuck in US Palermo shorts. Somehow pretty sexy. "You had a lot of freedom, because no one cares for you."

"Chiara tried!" Lorenzo shouted from the kitchen and Marco nodded.

"You never had a quiet moment," Marco said. "And yet you were ... alone. Our brothers and sisters tried, but ... what do you want with a 6 year old if you're 20. You're family, but we could see some didn't care for us. Or for mamma or papà, or anyone except that sibling or so. Like ... it's family. Everyone was trapped there."

Charlie wondered what it would take for his extended family to finally burn bridges with him and Gwen. Or why they didn't simply do it - No more outrage baiting. Straight up no more wedding visits or baptisms or anything. The Fitzpatrick Clan could do without Charlie and Gwendolyn Higgins.

One time he had heard his mother lose it at his father.

"Look, your family's talking, too," was all Connor had said. Charlie was hanging on the stairs, waiting to sneak out with friends.

Connor had made sure Charlie looked at least like a police officer's son. And Gwen had been somewhat thankful, because Connor's sighs had more love to them than her family's. Connor helped. Connor didn't want his wife to be judged either.

But now he had sided with her family and that was a step too far for Gwendolyn 'The black sheep' Fitzpatrick.

Charlie had fled the stairs when the yelling had turned into banging doors.

"Charlie?" Marco jolted him out of his thoughts and he cringed so hard he almost dropped the car.

"Yes?"

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm listening now."

"Nah, it's for the better." Charlie wondered how his boyfriend could look so enticing to him, just because of the stupid velvet on his leg. He'd look good in a kilt. Cheeky, but dignified. "I honestly think others have it worse. Families who cared and were cared for. Other people took pity on our sisters. On us, as we were younger, until we began to be too bratty. Too upset everyone thought twins were a package deal. But no one expected shit of us when we left at 12. Too many mouths to feed anyways." He scratched his head and looked away.

"Do you see them around sometimes?" Charlie asked. "Bagheria is just around the corner."

"Sure," Marco said. "I think. At least."

"Hard to tell," it came from the kitchen. "Sometimes you catch a name and the face fits, but ... they never recognize us."

"If they do, they look away as if they've seen a ghost. Never saw Chiara again, though."

"She's either dead or moved away," Lorenzo said. Monotone, but with a somewhat downcast tone. Like Marco.

Some family ties maybe weren't meant to be severed and one had gotten the scissors out anyways.

Marco bulked up the fabric and Charlie put the car down. He could flirt a bit before dinner.

[residentbishie]

Galahad's transition from level 1 crook to level 9 mastermind His original outfit is designed around the kilt and knit sweater he wore when he one day woke up without memories. Being one of the few clues from his past they ended up becoming part of what shaped his new identity, and even after he starts unravelling his past and realises they were nothing but a disguise he wore to hide as commoner they remain very precious things to him.

Sadly the game I played him in is no longer active, but I yearn to revisit this at some point and add a final outfit to go with the extended lore that happened after the conclusion of the game. I.e, the part where he ends up becoming what could be described as a "hobo warlock patron".

[scotianostra]

On 26th February 1950 the entertainer and songwriter, Sir Harry Lauder, died.

Born in Portobello in Edinburgh, Lauder was a music-hall comedian who excited enthusiasm throughout the English-speaking world as singer and composer of simple hearted Scottish songs.

While a child half-timer in a flax mill he won singing competitions but worked in a coal mine for 10 years before joining a concert party that took him to Belfast, Birkenhead, and other places that claim to have seen his professional debut.

The first songs that he wrote and sang were Irish or English, but when he went to London, to Gatti’s music hall in May 1900, he was wearing the kilt. Later he wore trousers for his character studies only, such as “Saftest of the Family” and “It’s Nice To Get Up in the Morning.” During his week’s engagement at Gatti’s a gap occurred in the program at the Tivoli, and Lauder stepped into it with “Lass o’ Killiekrankie,” an immediate success. Until then his songs had all been comic. With “I Love a Lassie” he struck the homely poetic note that gave charm to “When I Get Back Again to Bonnie Scotland” and “Roamin’ in the Gloamin’.” His range extended from the bibulous “A Wee Deoch an’ Doris” to the hortatory “End of the Road.” With a large repertory of his own songs (some verses partly by other persons) he toured America, South Africa, and Australia, and during World War I he sang to troops in France. He gave many concerts for war charities and was knighted in 1919. He wrote four books of reminiscences and acted in several films. He made 22 American tours and entertained troops again in World War II.

On February 26th 1950 he passed away at his Strathaven home, aged 79. His funeral was held at Cadzow church in Hamilton on 2 March It was widely reported,[notably by Pathé newsreels. One of the chief mourners was the Duke of Hamilton, a close family friend, who led the funeral procession through Hamilton, and read The Lesson. Lauder was interred with his brother George and their mother in the family plot at Bent Cemetery in Hamilton.

You can find a full biography on Harry Lauder here https://www.arts.gla.ac.uk/STE…/STARN/crit/WAGGLE/lauder.htm

[thefourthhexgirl]

Robe à la polonaise

A woman’s garment of the later 1770s and 1780s or a similar revival style of the 1870s inspired by Polish national costume, consisting of a gown with a cutaway, draped and swagged overskirt, worn over an underskirt or petticoat. From the late 19th century, the term polonaise also described a fitted overdress which extended into long panels over the underskirt, but was not necessarily draped or swagged. As earlier as the 1720s, English painters begun to portray fashionable ladies dressed in romanticized versions of the costume of a century earlier, as depicted in portraits by van Dyck and Rubens, while French Queen Marie Leszczyńska made the Polish dress popular in that decade. By the 1770s, elements of this style began to appear in fashionable dress, including the wide-brimmed hat (dubbed the “Rubens hat” in the Fashionable Magazine of 1786) and bunched-up skirts. About the same time, French fashion adopted a number of styles of English origin, such as the robe à l’anglaise, and the fullness of the skirts at the back waist and over the hips. One way to “create the fashionable bulk at the back and sides of the dress was to kilt up the overskirt by means of interior or exterior loops, buttons or tassels to form swags of material. This style...was known as à la polonaise. 

[emilou-keen-gear]

Was Scrooge ever able to break the curse that affected his family? 😢

The only curse I know of is the one on Castle McDuck, which came to be because he used discount druid stones, and thus making everyone in his family at that time immortal. Downy and Fergus McDuck, his parents, are immortal, and I believe his younger sister Matilda is as well. By extension, I think that also includes Scrooge himself (debatable since some conversations he has with Goldie do show that he ages and that he's found ways to make himself younger and extending his life). I would assume Hortense, Scrooge's other sister and Della and Donald's mother, is also immortal, although the show never talks about her. (We don't talk about Hortense, no no no.)

I don't think the curse is broken. I think when the Phantom Blot and Pepper invaded Castle McDuck for the Blessed Bagpipes, the curse might have been put on hold but once the Phantom Blot wasn't there to suck out the magic of the druid stones/natural magic around Castle McDuck, the curse continued.

I would like to write a bit about Castle McDuck and perhaps go into the curse and some family history, and I would like it to involve Hortense, bringing in the one family member that Disney wasn't going to address (I was certain they would, and perhaps they had plans if a fourth season was going to happen. Sad DX). I especially want to do a story about the Cursed Kilt of Clan McDuck (There's a Blessed Bagpipes, so there's obviously a Cursed Kilt. Ah, curse me kilts, oh, so that's where that came from lol)