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[birkenstockindia]

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[y3ager]

MATERIAL GIRL.

— and what do you give the girl who has everything? two rich boyfriends!

jean k. x eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, fluff, polyamorous relationship. socialite!reader. lovergirldeepdown!reader. 4k word count. inspired by this blurb.

HAILING FROM OLD money— your father the CEO of a century old automobile brand and your mother the third generation runway model—you have seen all there is to see, worn what there is to wear, had every priceless stone dangle from your neck and fingers, and tasted the most decadent of foods. the belief that just superficial things would be enough to sway you offends you greatly. if you don’t have it, you will have it as if it’s your right at this point. it takes much more than dinner and a yacht ride to make you squeal.

and that’s what’s so tiring about the whole dating scene. the pool is filled to the brim with arrogant nepotism babies in khaki shorts and sweaters around their shoulders. they’ll never worry about a thing because daddy kisses the ass of this man and mommy grins in the face of that woman, and by god, do they make it known. if another man brags about owning original modigliani pieces over dinner, he’ll be met with an oyster shell to the eye. who are you supposed to be, some bright-eyed influencer? please. check the pedigree.

things changed when you met them, however. one in the summer, and one in the winter.

you were on the jet back home from italy when hitch, a girl you’ve known since you were a tyke, bombarded your phone with messages about christening her new penthouse with a pool party you just had to come to, lest she’d drag you there. after confirming your attendance, you rolled back over in the white leather reclining seat and pulled your silk eye mask back down, making a mental note to get your braids refreshed and place an order for a new bikini.

you’re reborn as a literal doll, the braids on the left side of your head coaxed into an intricate butterfly while the others lay flat against your scalp in faultless rows and hang low to your hipbones. white, white, white everywhere, from the nails, the strappy swimsuit, the miu miu sandals; a beautiful contrasts against your glistening ebon skin dusted with body shimmer for good measure. perfect, as usual.

hitch’s new high rise penthouse is something out of a multimillion dollar budget drama, with its dozens of crystal clear windows and modern interior. sitting far away enough from the city to avoid the hustle and bustle, but close enough to gaze at the twinkling lights, it’s practically a palace for the dreyse corporation heir.

champagne flute filled with 1820 juglar cuvée, you mingle amongst the next generation of the one percent. hitch’s friends, and your friends by proxy you assume, are a breath of fresh air. human.

but there’s one person amongst the gaggle you don’t recognize. from your spot next to the slightly tispy miss dreyse, your dark eyes glance over the rim of your ivory framed sunnies, glass rim tapping absentmindedly against lined, glossed lips. light brown mullet, slightly tanned skin, dark brown eyes...

“hitchie...” your elbow gently bumps into the blonde’s sides, snatching her out of her mild stupor. “who’s that?” you ask innocently, gesturing with your half full flute. it’s casual, inquisitive.

hitch squints a little bit, pure concentration written all over her features as she tries to put a name to the face. “oh!” when the name comes to her, her hand meets the back of your shoulder in a kinda hard slap, totally unintentional, of course. “jean, kirschtein! you know, from-” a hiccup interrupts her introduction, making her burst into a quick giggle. “-the oil company.”

the pieces begin to come together, you know the names all of the elite; the braun’s, the leonhart’s, the ackerman’s, names listed amongst yours and names you close deals with. clans with power, influence, wealth, distinction.

he, jean, is walking over now; casual with an easy stride that shows he’s in no rush, he’s confident. he pays his respects to the girl of the hour, congratulating her on her new playhouse before her attention is diverted by another guest calling her name to get her to come over there. hitch slips off, but not before discreetly tapping your lower back in excitement; an unspoken ‘get him.’

“jean,” he introduces himself, extending his hand in a polite greeting. “i wanted to speak to hitch, but i wanted to talk to you, too. you are breathtaking.” his eyes drink you in, from head to toe, even though they’ve been roaming your frame since you first caught his attention. the heir simply cannot get enough. “but you get told that a lot, yes?”

“thank you.” your lips spread into a small smile, one hand slipping into his larger one as the other pulls off your sunnies, sticking one of the arms down into your top. “i’m ___” jean bore a lean swimmer’s build, dark navy beach shorts hung low on his hips, and his tanned skin decorated with a dusting of faint, brown freckles over his body. years of private villas and yachts, no doubt. he was impossibly tall, too, you find yourself having to gently tilt your head back to see his face fully. it was cute from afar, maturely handsome up close. was that a faint hint of a mustache? it was hot.

jean repeats your name slowly, enjoying the feeling of that line of syllables rolling off his tongue. “i’d love to get to know you more. ___, you’re so beautiful. i have to impress you somehow. name it,” his other hand comes up to rest of top of yours, successfully encasing it in a gentle hold. an excuse to touch you just a little bit more. “i’ll make it happen.”

your smile becomes a grin, and your dark eyes glint mischievously under your delicate lashes. one quick test, because where’s the fun in not initiating one? you just want to see what he’d say, pick at his brain. what sweet words will he spin from his golden cords now? “but jean,” you begin softly, “what if i was the type of girl that liked a man that took control? told me we were doing this, at this time, on this day, and in my prettiest red dress?”

“it’d be rude, ___, at least in my eyes, to so quickly assume i had a right to your time, and drag you around this way and that. allow me the privilege of occupying your time, and space.”

before you can catch it, one of your expertly threaded and sculpted eyebrows quirks up in mild surprise. you beckon him a bit closer to your face with a wave of your acrylics. “good answer,” you tease, honeyed voice playful and whispery. “phone? i can put my number in, and we can talk about how you can try to romance me when i have my schedules laid out in front of me.” you watch as he fishes the device out of his shorts pocket.

you were captivating afar, but up close with your tawny skin soft, glittery, and emanating an intoxicating vanilla scent, your dark eyes glistening with mirth and playfulness… it makes jean’s body go into some type of shock, his heart plummeting to his feet and his blood running cold but racing through his veins at the same time.

“well then,” you chime as you save your digits into the millionaire’s phone, the contact simply your name with no bells or whistles to adorn it. “i hope we can get to know each soon, mr. kirschtein.”

jean thinks that pearly white smile will be the death of him.

…

every year, no matter what, your father throws his annual christmas party. you long assumed that it brings him a special type of happiness because your normally humble father goes all out for them, each year being better than the last. he flies out the best chefs in the world to cook for hours, orders the tallest, greenest tree for the foyer, and has the house cleaned til someone could check their reflection in the perfect marble floors. when it comes to this, the man skimps on nothing.

you take it upon yourself to make the most of it, requesting custom design dresses from the most exclusive sewing tables over in Europe, shoes fresh from the runway. only the very best for you, the heiress, the crème de la crème, the girl who has never known the word no.

“dance with me?”

you had been absentmindedly swirling your wine glass by its delicate stem, attempting to place its origin (red, tart-like with its cranberry flavor and a strange orange bite near the end), when you’re approached. once you turn your head, you’re meet with striking green eyes and a sharp little smile.

“you looked bored, and that’s what these parties are for, right?”

eren yeager, the german-american son of grisha and carla yeager, 2nd generation genius neurosurgeon with a net worth in the 7 figures, and the just-as-talented, third generation wedding gown designer. according to the rumor mill, after graduating in the top of class in one of those ivy’s upstate, he gallivanted across the country (no, the world) as the not-so-favorable yeager son. of course, there are entirely too many eyes on the yeager clan for grisha to do too much of anything and a son can do no wrong in a doting mother’s eyes; so eren is left free to his disagreeable desires. everyone wonders how long that will last.

steely dark eyes and your naturally neutral face does nothing to deter him. you decide to indulge him, slipping your hand into his and raising up, allowing him the luxury of whisking you to the dance floor. “i guess i don’t see why not.”

“great.” his hand is soft and a little cool against your own, the woody, cedar notes of penhaligon the inimitable gently wafting off his skin and pressed shirt. unbeknownst to you, a few pairs of eyes bore into yeager’s back. the arrogance he has to whisk you away so early into the party, especially with it being his first one. if eren was the wiser, he’d revel in their envy.

there’s a handful of other couples waltzing across the floor when you two arrive. your fingers thread through his as his free hand finds a respectful place on your waist, blessed with the feeling of the smooth skin exposed by the opening in your dress.

no matter how much money your father makes, he’s an old black man at heart. old r&b plays from the expensive sound system he had installed, tevin campbell’s can we talk playing through the speakers. the irony of the situation isn’t lost on you. nonetheless, you hum nonchalantly to the tune and glide around the floor with your partner.

“i gotta ask, do you enjoy these things? or does your dad put you up to it?” your arm is held above your head and you’re spun around in a quick circle before being guided back to eren’s chest. face still impartial, you nod your head towards your five o clock, the wavy blonde strands dangling from your delicate updo tickling your face. a table teems with gifts for you and you only, bachelors from afar vying for a wisp of your attention with shiny, expensive gifts. they fail to realize that a girl like yourself isn’t so easily bought. but, it’s their money not yours, and few things in life bring you greater joy than pulling ribbon and wrapping paper from luxury brand boxes.

“of course i do. i’m not ‘put up’ to anything. i dress up, i get my presents. what isn’t there to love?” manicured hand splayed across the man’s back, you’re dipped towards the floor. you’re one to give credit where credit is due, yeager is a good dancer; the confidence in his movements isn’t a lame front and he maintains the delicate balance between taking the lead and dragging his poor partner around. since this is suddenly an interview, you have questions of your own. “when i have time to go through them, will i find your name on anything?”

“of course you will. be pretty damn rude to show up to a party empty handed. especially when it might be my only chance to get a gift for the princess.” a name your normally cringe and scrunch your nose at sounds surprisingly nice passing by his lips. he grinned boyishly. “no hints.”

“i can wait. for your sake, i hope it’s no ring. it’s going straight into the garbage.” just the thought of such a “present” makes your blood want to boil. who raised these “men”? i mean honestly, what brain dead fool buys a ring for a girl who didn’t even know his face? and expected her to wear it? you would sooner die and go to hell first.

“no way someone is that dumb. you’re fucking with me.”

“what do i have to lie for?”

"well, taking a look at these guests, i take it back. some of these bastards look dumb enough to pull a stunt like that." eren scans the array of guests over your shoulder, and you can't even feign offense for your father's sake. scanning over a guestlist for former flames and explaining why you didn't want them in attendance would take too much time, and you really didn't feel like explaining "relationship troubles" to your dad of all people. loved him as much as you did that really wasn't his business. besides, watching them shiver and skulk away from your disinterested and annoyed glance made up for everything. "are you a betting woman?"

"did you waste grisha's money on a degree in journalism?" your eyebrows furrow and eren laughs again.

"you're funny, ___. most of our peers aren't so witty. and if it so pleases her majesty, i want to bet on the odds of one of these dumbasses putting a ring under your tree." eren's green eyes stare down into yours, gleaming with playfulness, mirth, and confidence. "what do you say? someone does, and we can go on a date, just us two, and you can smile and laugh a little bit."

"and if there's no ring?"

"i'll leave you alone and fall in place in your long string of broken hearts."

luck has always been on your side. look at the family you were in born in, the riches that are your birthright! the universe has never dealt you a bad hand and surely wouldn’t start now. and worse case scenario, you hang out with one of the few men that can mark your plump lips twitch in the shadow of a giggle. “fine.” your brown eyes meet his green, and neither of the waver. “deal.”

several days later, gifts from around the globe surround you. handbags, shoes, dresses, envelopes bursting with cash; you’ll have to tell your dad you need some walls knocked down in your already spacious closet to make room for more. amidst all this, though, a godforsaken ring is gripped between your fingers. if looks could kill, it would melting and dripping from your grasp. holding it like it’s contaminated, you snap a picture to send to yeager:

‘i’m free the 3rd weekend and tuesdays.’

…

as temperatures rise again, you spend the next few months allowing jean kirstein and eren yeager the luxury of whisking you away when your schedule permits.

the former is a bit... old fashioned, in a good way! you're led off to slow paced, cozy dates; the two of you roaming italian streets, attending shows in their original opera houses, he never strayed you out of the bubble you two were born in. it was casual, soft, predictable in a good way.

eren on the other hand, spent money like it would burn through his pocket if it sat there too long. he spent money like a man who just felt its crispness in his palms and was addicted to the feeling, knowing deep down it'd never stop flowing for him. you're frequenting the night scene in your tight, revealing dress, his firm hands on your hips as you two grind to the pounding beats. shopping spree dates that lasted all day, if your hand so much as brushed it, it was bought, packaged up, and in the car. spontaneous flights abroad, stealing you away for weekends. it was exhilarating.

they both provide the things you're looking for. jean is the type of man you imagine yourself settling down with one day, when the whole young and turnt shtick melts away into something more domestic and slow paced. he has gentle hands and treats you so delicately, softly. his reliability will be something you can learn to lean on and need.

eren could possibly be that type of man too, but for now he has a fire, impulses that keep you oh so entertained. having everything in the world gets boring, and eren brings that spark that you crave.

you ruminate at your vanity. hair tied down and tucked away under a silky soft bonnet, you run your gua sha across your moisturized face, long sweeping strokes that end with a gentle tug. eye masks rest on your face, your feet clothed by a exfoliating mask, and a fluffy robe envelopes your body. you stare at your reflection, you're the only one who gets you.

you're really at a crossroads. you choosing between something is unheard of. you're ___, you get everything you deserve and want tenfold. you like jean, you like eren. the way they look at you with such adoration, how their hands and lips caress your body, the sweets words they declare, and how every promise they've made to you remains unbroken, oh how they must certainly feel the same for you.

as greedy as it may make you sound, you want both. your cake and to eat it too. two of your richest peers fawning over you day in and day out, them caring for you and you caring for them. them loving you, and you loving them. it’s a dream that will be your reality.

…

after a long day at sea on one of many jean’s yachts, the sun beaming down on not only the beautiful blue water but the two of you, entangled in each other’s arms, docks at the private harbor.

you’re running your fingers through your french curl braids as jean talks to one of the dock’s attendees, slightly sleepy from your sunbathing session. the gentle breeze of the day brings the smell of saltwater up to your nostrils and you hear seagulls squawking from spots on the wooden posts. obviously, a day at the water leaves you craving seafood, juicy lobster tails with a decadent pasta on the side. your daydreams of the soon to be dinner are interrupted by an extremely familiar “yo!”

heads turn, and it’s none other than eren striding across the dock’s walkway towards where you and jean are standing. his green eyes shine at the sight of you, the hot pink of your two piece bikini a perfect contrast to your skin and showing curves and bends he’d worship for the rest of his life. oh, and jean’s here too.

another woman might falter, her heart catching in her throat and sweat beading up on her flesh as her suitors stand before her, but you’re the epitome of calm, brown eyes smoothly meeting eren’s. there’s no ring on your finger, and besides, you know what you’re after right now.

“haven’t seen you in a while, yeager.” knowing it’d be cliche, jean fights against the urge to wrap a protective arm around your waist. “done gallivanting the world?”

“seen all there is to see kirschtein, and you say that like it’s insult. what use is money if it just sits in accounts collecting dust.” eren looks at you again, god you’re a sight for sore eyes. “especially when there’s a woman like her to spend it on.”

jean’s eyes can’t help but to roll. what a cornball. “well, good chat, but ___ and i are on a little time crunch. i’m taking her to niccolo’s, especially after being on the water.” his hand slips into yours, taking charge but not tugging you along. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him.

“well, now that you mention it, i could go for some niccolo’s too.” eren’s grin is shit-eating. what a cute dynamic these too have, one you know has a bit more bite to it when a lady isn’t in their presence. “how about i join? matter of fact, my treat.”

“that won’t be necessary.”

“i insist.”

“you two would argue all day if i let you,” you interrupt this small tussle, and now their attention is back on you. a manicured hand raises up to cover your small yawn. “like an old married couple.”

“it’s all in good fun,” eren’s shoulder nudges jean, and if jean had lasers for eyes, the youngest heir to yeager fortune would be a pile of dust before your feet. “we go way back.”

jean ignores him entirely, but eren finds it hilarious. “what he’s suggesting is insane, ___.”

you give a gentle shrug of your shoulder, coyness at the ready. “it’s nothing serious, it’s a lunch date between friends, and i bet you’d like to catch up.”

jean’s jaw tenses. he turns to you completely as eren looks on curiously. “i think it’s a sign that you say that, ___. i’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while. yes, we are friends, but i want to be more with you.”

this moment, with the waves crashing across the dock, the sun illuminating the two of you, jean clasping your hands tight, would’ve been a soft, tender, picturesque one had it not been for eren’s booming laughter.

“oh, so now this is a pissing contest, huh, jean? well, since we’re confessing feelings, i have my own to speak for you.” his outburst breaks your gaze, and you and jean both turn in unison. “___, i want you to be my girlfriend, and i’ve felt this way for a while. i’ve been waiting for just the perfect moment, but i can’t let this jack-off take this one for himself right?” comically, you’re put between them, each of your hands in theirs.

“i…” this takes tact, a delicate way of stringing together words and honestly, with their eyes boring into yours, you find yourself falling just a touch short.

“i respect any decision you make,” jean assures.

“___, i will do anything for you,” eren promises.

any decision. anything.

you bit your bottom lip, hands minutely twitching in their clasp. you lean in neither direction, at the center of them. “any?”

and then there’s a beat of silence. and everyone’s looking at each other. this feels like a scene in a sitcom, something that should be accompanied with a laugh-track, but there’s no closed mouth that’s been fed.

“because in the time i’ve gotten to know both of you, i’ve begin to care for both of you. and i’ve made great memories with the two of you. i know i could make even more. i don’t value any time spent with you over each other’s.” your voice shakes just a tiny, tiny bit, vulnerability creeping in. “you too make me… so happy.”

eren cuts the silence first, ever the impulsive one. “i’ll do it.”

“you cut me off,” jean quickly interjects. eren really puts him on his toes, ignites an aggressive fire deep within, steps on just the right nerves. “i’m doing it too.”

“i said i’d do anything.”

“and i said i’d respect any decision.”

“okay!” you voice crashes down like a gavel. “okay. i’m glad that you two are hearing me out,” a smile tugs at your glossed lips, this feels so easy and lighthearted, a stark contrast from the seriousness you impose upon yourself. already, you feel yourself loosening up, because the two of them bring out the true, relaxed you like nothing else can. “but for our sanity the bickering needs to come down a notch before we all kill each other, yeah?”

two strong pairs of arms envelop you. it takes some effort, but you wrap your own around the two of them. three heads together, you find yourselves laughing. a weight eases of your shoulders, but not because you got your way, but because you know this is the death of a mask created by the circle you were born in. a mask that hides the love you can feel in an attempt to guard it.

“well, we won’t kill you.”

nov 13. 2021. nov 9. 2023. i nearly gave up. i almost threw in the towel. but goddammit she’s done. praise god.

[bebemoon]

look for the name: KHWEZI

@pinkcanceress

cult gaia "skye" asymmetrical button-up halter top + matching "leilani" button-up skort (both in "lollipop multi" color)

{hair} braids, twists and buns (as taper holders) @ jean paul gaultier a/w 1994

versace pink pvc crystal heeled sandals

kindred black "a woman is fire" perfume oil

staud "goodnight moon" leather top-handle bag in pink

[wombywoo]

21, 22 & 23 please <33

thank youuu <3

21. cold weather outfit

Quinn likes nice sturdy coats, something warm he can throw over anything. He usually layers up with a long-sleeved shirt +sweater +jacket, and keeps to jeans or sweatpants if he's more casual. Turtlenecks and scarves too, because he likes keeping his neck covered.

Vincent has several classy overcoats, plus his leather jackets. He doesn't experience the cold like a human does, but he still dresses accordingly; nice sweaters, cardigans, boots.

22. hot weather outfit

While Quinn is not typically a shorts guy, he will throw on a pair if it's excessively hot (england's 70° "heat wave" 🙄) He'll pair it with a casual tee or a loose collared shirt. You'll never catch him in sandals though 🚫

Vincent doesn't often go out in the sun (vamp reasons 💅) but if he has to, he'll wear something to cover up most of his skin. There are new sunblock options available, so if he lathers up, he might wear something short-sleeved with some linen pants. If the mood strikes, he might throw on boat shoes or Italian leather sandals (quinn informs him they are laaaaame)

23. beach look

asdfghjk I'm actually working on a beach pic rn 🤫 stay tuned

Quinn's bathing suit choices are usually tight and small, lol. Slinky shirts and sunglasses, still no sandals 🙅‍♀️ He's pasty so he doesn't deliberately attempt to tan, but if he's at the beach he might try some sun oils. He's got a decent body so he doesn't mind showing it off in certain conditions~

Vincent still has reservations about being in the sun, so the beach is not really his scene. On an outing, he'll wear a full-body wetsuit type of outfit +floppy hat and stick to setting up under an umbrella with a book. In his human days, he probably wore those high-waisted belted swim trunks or a one-piece 'speed suit' and now I can't get that visual out of my head 🤭

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 9

a/n: can't believe that we're already at chapter 9, that's crazyyy

warnings: none, really

Word count: 2.8k

Other chapters

Eyes flutter open and you swear you can still feel a blush heating your cheeks. You had no idea how the kiss -well, kisses- even happened. One moment you were heading to your room, the next you were sitting on the counter while Azriel kissed your mouth and neck… Your whole face is red now. Getting up from the bed, you go to the bathing room and fill the tub with cold water. I need to calm down.

Looking in the mirror you see perfectly braided hair, a beautiful deep purple long sleeved dress that fits your torso snugly and flares beneath the hips paired with delicate sandals only worn on days spent helping the priestesses with menial tasks. You wished you had a necklace to really complete the look but didn’t see the point in purchasing one. Before leaving the room you find a bottle of lavender oil you had been using for relaxing baths and aromatherapy and place a few drops on your neck and wrists. Since arriving, you have never put that much effort into how you look. Your priorities having always been lying elsewhere but… you can’t deny that you like Azriel. At the thought, a girlish grin appears on your face. You hadn’t liked anyone since Mathew. When that relationship ended everything else in your life seemed to fall apart and romance was the last thing you were thinking about. Even on your trip, you had seen attractive people all over but never made an effort to speak to them. Mathew… you wonder what he’s been doing. It has been nearly a month of you being gone. Disappeared. A month… the smile vanishes, replaced by a subtle frown. You had been so desperate to return once you arrived, the shock of a new world sending you into panic mode. But guilt fills you up as you realize that the last few days you had barely thought of getting back. You think of your friends and your family all the time, but the urge to see them again has… diminished to a certain degree. Life in the House of Wind has been very comfortable, but just abandoning your whole life is a giant leap to make because of comfort. You compose yourself, not wanting to go into a spiral before having breakfast, and head to the dining room.

You’re relieved and horrified to see that only Azriel is in the dining room this morning. “Good morning” you greet and sit down, immediately filling up your plate with an egg dish that looks delicious. He clears his throat “good morning”.The only noise is metal lightly scraping against delicate porcelain. Shadows lurk their way towards your face, no doubt telling their master what they see. You haven’t looked at him yet. Blush still wild on your cheeks. Images of his hands, his beautiful scarred hands, and all the places they touched replaying over and over and over. He pulls his shadows back and clears his throat again “did you sleep well?” It had been sun up by the time you two had disentangled, but for at least a few hours you had managed to sleep without the disturbing nightmares. “Yes, what about you?” he shook his head, “I had training at dawn”. Your eyes widen and you finally look at him. He looks great, freshly bathed, his hair still damp and his Illyrian leathers hug his biceps in such a way… You look away from him again and focus all of your attention on the eggs. “About last night…” Azriel begins and your throat closes up “what about it?” He pauses and continues “we can pretend it didn’t happen if you want” you look at him again, brow furrowed. “Why would we do that?” he shrugs “it’s just a suggestion, I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us”.  “Do you want to forget about it?” He remains still, you swear you can see his internal debate. After a moment he shakes his head “no”. “Me neither, but I think we should remain friends, until the portal thing gets resolved” he looks at you, unwavering. “Do you want to go back?” You shrug “I think I have too” “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want”. You break the stare “I don’t know Az, I really don’t” when you look back his face has softened and he nods “it’s ok”. You finish your food and pour yourself some tea, “Lucien is going to be at the River House today, do you want to go?” You perk up at the mention of the red haired male “of course”. 

It had been a while since you had visited the beautiful house on the river bank. Autumn had changed the leaves' colors to shades of red, orange and yellow. You had been excited to hear that Lucien was finally coming to the Night Court. He was the first to help you here, even if it had been a… rough start. You missed him and the other exiles, forever saving a place in your heart for them. “Who invited you?” Lucien teased once he saw you walk through the main door. You roll your eyes but can’t help the little walk-skip-run you do to hug him “you shouldn’t speak to me like that, emissary. You never know how useful I could become for your diplomatic endeavors” you say in a mock-stern voice. “I’ll see you at lunch, Rhysand wants to get the meeting out of the way” you nod and he walks into the High Lord’s study. Azriel speaks “I’ll me at the meeting too, Elain is in the kitchen if you want company in the meantime” “alright, see you later”. 

The kitchen smelled of yeast and sugar and flour. “Hi, Elain” she didn’t look up from the cake she was decorating as she greeted you in return. There was a big mess everywhere you looked. You could clearly tell where she had mixed the frostings to make different colors and where she had combined all of the ingredients to make the cake batter. You even spotted where she had kneaded the bread that was currently in the oven. “Want me to help you clean up?” she looked up at that, eyes filled with genuine gratitude “I would appreciate it if you could” and offered a sheepish smile. Despite the mess all around her she looked perfectly intact. Maybe she has some sort of magical stain repellent. “Is there an apron I can put on?” without stopping her task she answers “there are some in the first drawer” and motions with her head. You put on the apron, roll your sleeves up and get to work. 

Wiping the sweat off your brow and fanning yourself with a rag you admire your work. The kitchen was spotless. You were very tempted to take a slice of the cake but had already been warned that it was for after lunch. “Are you happy to see Lucien?” You asked Elain, but quickly regretted it because you were not nearly close enough to her to ask questions about something so personal “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer. I just know about the mating bond but it’s none of my business”. She sighs, like she’s been thinking about it all along. “It’s ok, but to be honest, I don’t know” you nod and are surprised as she goes on in a hushed voice “he is a good male. Truly, he is, you know that. But before this life I was engaged to man that I was in love with. We had chosen each other and were committed to a lifetime together” she looks directly at you for the first time today “and the promise of that was ripped away from me along with my humanity. The concept of mates is still new to me, but my sisters and I have been told that we have been very lucky in that regard. And I can’t deny that I feel attracted to him, like I’m being pulled to be near him constantly. When he’s away I feel it in my bones… but I didn’t choose him. He was assigned to me by some predetermined fate. And I’m constantly suppressing the instinct to be with him because it is the only shred of free will I have left. If I choose to be with him, I’d feel like I’d be forfeiting the last part of myself that I have control over” you had never heard her speak so much. Reaching for her hand, placing yours atop hers “in my realm, I felt very similarly to you. I felt like I was being controlled and molded into someone that just was not me. I had a fiancé and instead of feeling lucky I felt like I was drowning and everyone in my life kept pushing me underwater. So I ran, I left it all behind and… well now I’m here. It did not go how I thought it was going to but” you lower your voice, hearing the doors to the study open “I don’t regret making my own decisions. I asked you because I’m nosy but if you want my unsolicited advice” she nods, “do whatever you need to do, even if it takes you out of your comfort zone. Travel, meet new people, share your knowledge with someone, visit a neighbor, whatever but don’t lock yourself away”. She squeezes your hand and smiles gently. 

 After lunch you go outside to enjoy the sun. As winter approaches the days get shorter, making every drop of sunshine extra precious. The rest of the group stayed inside near the toasty hearth. The constant breeze that comes from the Sidra chips away at your exposed skin and you shiver. A warmth emanating male comes to stand next to you. You take a side step to be closer to him “how was the meeting?” Lucien looks around and answers “fine, there weren’t many updates to give. How has it been here?” You look at him and realize you trust him. In the beginning you had to, it was your only option. Now, you trust him because he’s earned it “Azriel and I kissed last night” you just had to tell someone and prayed to god none of his shadows would not report this back to him. Lucien’s eyes widen and he laughs, a bit too loudly in your opinion. “Want to elaborate?” you shook your head “I just needed to tell someone” “I’m flattered”. You scoff  “you should be” a harsh gust blows some strands of hair out of your braid and your eyes water from the cold “it was a bit weird in the morning but then it was fine. I don’t know what to think about it though, since I’m supposed to leave soon”. Lucien lifts a sharp brow “he wasn’t fond of the idea of you returning, something about a trap?” “It’s just a feeling I have, and the nightmares don’t help” “Rhysand is eager to try the portal” you laugh at that “I get the  feeling he doesn’t like me very much”. Lucien chuckles “he really only likes Feyre”. You remain quiet for a bit until Lucien speaks again “you are supposed to fly down to the clearing tomorrow”. Ice runs through your veins now, a mixture of the  wind and the impending trip back home. “Oh” is all you manage to get out.

You open the drawer to your bedside table and place the few belongings you have in your bag. The clothes you had worn on your first day here were clean and folded atop the dresser. You were ready to go home. There wasn’t much to pack. The group had gone to Rita’s for dinner and it was a nice distraction for about an hour, Azriel had flown you to the House of Wind after you finished eating. You hadn’t spoken much to him today. Not knowing what to say or what to think or what to feel. Nervous? Excited? Scared? You take your blanket from the bed and sit in front of the windows. It could very well be your last night here, the view was something you’d want to remember and you curse at yourself for not taking a picture when you still had a phone. 

The flight to the clearing was brutal. The temperature was so much lower in the skies and without any type of shield it felt like razors were slicing through any exposed skin. So you were extremely relieved to have landed in the still temperate Mortal Lands, autumn here was still in its early stages and by the looks of it they still had several weeks before the cold made life more difficult. You had been helping Gwyn with the symbols by holding up her notebook while she drew every line with a thick white pigment. “The lines must be intact” she had said sternly when Cassian groaned about carrying two cans of it. She was nearly done now, only a few more symbols to complete the circular portal. That’s when Azriel asked Cassian to hold the notebook. You looked at him with narrowed eyes as he led you away from them. “I don’t think you should go”. No words came out when you opened your mouth. You try again “what?” It comes out as a whisper. “I don’t think you should go” you huff “why?” He inhales “because the risks are far too big and I don’t think you want to go back but are afraid to admit it to yourself” you cross your arms at your chest, defensive “why would you say that?” His voice is steady “I agree with you, I think it’s a trap” you shake your head “no, why do you think I don’t want to go back to my home?” His expression is stern now “y/n, you’ve told me about your home. I don’t think you were happy there, you could be happy here-” “Doing what? Looking for books my whole life and then drop dead in that damn library while all of you keep living? Azriel, I can’t stay locked away at the house forever”. He pinches the bridge of his nose “that’s not what I’m saying, you could find something else to do, anything really. You could find a place to live in town and build a life for yourself” he’s pleading, your heart feels like it’s in your throat. He goes on “what do you have to get back to anyways?”. You step back from him “you cannot be serious, I have family, friends. Azriel I have a whole life and I can’t just throw it all away. I have no future here, no sense of belonging, no career, nothing” he steps closer to you “I’m saying you could have any life you want here, I’ll help you-”

 “Stop” he stops talking, his shadows have curled around your legs, anchoring you. “Guys, this is pretty much ready” you hear Gwyn announce. You tear your eyes from Azriel and look at the nearly completed circle. Only one line remained. 

“I don’t want our last conversation to be like this,” you say. Azriel insists, “y/n please, stay, you’re being stubborn”. Your eyes roar “you’re being an ass” and walk over to Gwyn and Cassian. They are pretending they didn’t hear every word of your conversation. “Do it” and with a final stroke Gwyn finishes the portal. The four of you stare at the circle in the center and… nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. You feel Azriel sag with relief “Gwyn, what happened?” You ask, she’s double and triple checking the markings on her notebook “I don’t know… we must be missing something, the marks are perfect” you take a breath and turn to Azriel “happy?” he puts his hands behind his back “I think it’s good you’ll have more time to think about what is best for you” you roll your eyes “don’t treat me like a child, just because I'm not a million years old doesn’t mean that I don’t know what’s best for me”. You don’t, and you weren’t feeling one hundred percent sure about returning. But that was your decision, not anyone else’s. “Cassian, can you take me to the Manor?” Azriel looks confused “let’s just go home, y/n. We can be back before nightfall” you shake your head. “No, you guys can go, I’m staying here for a while”. Azriel goes to move towards you but you walk towards Cassian “please?” He nods and you leap into the sky before Azriel can say anything else. 

“Too bad the portal didn’t work out,” Lucien says. “Yeah, too bad” you sit looking at the hearth. “What are you going to do now?”

You shrug “I have no idea”.

tag list: @luvmoo

[spacenintendogs]

modern au ask. What are the gangs personal clothing styles ?

ooooo.... i'm not very fashionable nor am i rlly confident abt my knowledge of styles & stuff so i'm sorry if it's not as creative as it could be :')

hiccup i see a lot of layers, similar to how he dresses in the dreamworks franchise. as he gets older there's more leather since he does a lot of motorcycle riding. flannels, graphic tees, baggier cargo pants & shorts & sneakers are his general go-to. has a nice pair of chucks he brings out once in a while. no piercings but he has a tattoo of toothless' strike class silhouette on one of his shoulder blades.

astrid dresses practically. usually in a pair of jeans or leggings. when she dresses more casually it's basketball shorts with a jersey of some kind. she wears jerseys relatively often too. also shirts she can easily move & breathe in. i think she'd like horizontal stripes for shirts but i might be projecting lol. she's got multiple ear piercings on both ears tho. she also loves her headbands!!! gets a specially made one from tuff & snot with stormfly's spines on it!! steel toed boots.

fishlegs dresses like a hipster. have u seen his moustache in httyd 3?? he's a hipster & he fucking rocks it. also rocks a lot of street styles he's one of the most fashionable of the gang & he is proud of it. he looks great always. gets the tattoos on his arms like he has in httyd 3. he also likes wearing rings!! has a wooden bead bracelet he wears from his older sister. uses stuff like beard oil & is super into skincare. u will catch him with a face mask & cucumbers over his eyes.

snotlout prob goes through the biggest style shift. when he's younger he dresses like the usual high school douchebag, backwards cap & everything. once he's a senior & after he graduates he's more biker style (he does become a biker dude after all). super tight t-shirts that show his boobs lmao. he gets his ears pierced & gets a labret piercing. tattoo sleeve on his right arm of monstrous nightmares entangling around each other. old habits die hard tho so sometimes u catch him with his backwards cap. heeled boots bc he likes to be tall.

ruffnut is so fucking cool u guys. she dresses in a variety of styles, sometimes vastly different day to day but she pulls them all off flawlessly. strong fashion is actually how she & fishlegs bond sometimes (or argue lmao). she's got so many ear piercings & switches out what she has by the day. she does her hair the most elaborately out of the gang, when it's long or short. loves long necklaces & layers them. has her nose pierced too. she has a tattoo of barf going down her calf (tuff has the other half so if they stand next to each other it completes the zippleback!!). her fave pair of shoes tho are her sketchers hiking sandals. let the dogs out!!!

tuff is also so fucking cool, though in a more laid back way compared to ruff. more grungy. ripped jeans from falling off his longboard. old sneakers that have been everywhere. shirts he's had since middle school that may be repurposed to have ripped sleeves or become crop tops. that ugly dress u saw at a thrift store? he's wearing it & fucking looks great. he has his septum pierced and multiple ear piercings (like httyd 3). i also think he'd get snake bites. when he's younger he wears beanies a lot but once he's older he puts his hair up in more elaborate "viking" styles with how he braids. also enjoys tank tops & more frayed looks to shirts in general. has belch tattooed down his calf (ruff has the other half, as stated above).

[olympic-paris]

Considering how prized modern Italian leather goods are today, it is perhaps not too surprising that there was a good deal of variety of types of ancient Roman sandals and shoes. The shoe-maker (sutor) was a valued craftsman in the days of Roman Empire and Romans contributed entire-foot-encasing shoe to the Mediterranean world.

Archaeological studies indicate that Romans brought shoe-making technology of vegetal tanning to Northwestern Europe. Tanning can be accomplished by the treatment of animal skins with oils or fats or by smoking, but none of those methods result in permanent and water-resistant leather. True tanning uses vegetable extracts to create a chemically stable product, which is resistant to bacterial decay, and has resulted in the preservation of many examples of ancient shoes from damp environments such as riverside encampments and backfilled wells.

The spread of vegetable tanning technology was almost certainly an outgrowth of the imperial Roman army and its supply requirements. Most of the earliest preserved shoes have been found in early Roman military establishments in Europe and Egypt. Earliest preserved Roman footwear found so far was made in 4th Century BC, although it is still unknown where the technology originated.

In addition, Romans innovated a variety of distinctive shoe styles, the most obvious of which are hobnailed shoes and sandals. Even the single-piece shoes developed by Romans are significantly different from the pre-Roman native footwear. The Romans are also responsible for the innovation of owning multiple pairs of shoes for different occasions. The crew of a grain ship sunk in Rhine River about 210 CE each owned one closed pair and one pair of sandals.

The Latin word for generic sandals is sandalia or soleae; for shoes and shoe-boots the word was calcei, related to the word for heel (calx). Sebesta and Bonfante (2001) report that these types of shoes were specifically worn with the toga and so were forbidden to enslaved people. In addition, there were slippers (socci) and theatrical footwear, like the cothurnus.

The generic calceus was made of soft leather, completely covered the foot and was fastened in front with thongs. Some early shoes had pointed upward curving toes (calcei repandi), and were both laced and strapped into place. Later shoes had rounded toes.

The wet weather called for a boot called the pero, which was made of rawhide. Calcamen was the name of a shoe that reached mid-calf.

The black leather senator's shoe or calceus senatorius had four straps (corrigiae). A senator's shoes were decorated with a crescent shape on the top. Except for color and price, the senator's shoe was similar to the patrician's costlier red high-soled calceus mulleus fastened with hooks and straps around the ankle.

Caligae muliebres were unstudded boots for women. Another diminutive was the calceoli, which was a little shoe or half boot for women.

According to some artistic representations, Roman soldiers wore embromides, impressive dress boots with a feline head that came nearly to the knees. They have never been found archaeologically, so it is possible that these were an artistic convention and never made for production. Regular soldiers had shoes called campagi militares and the well-ventilated marching boot, caliga (with the diminutive caligula used as a nickname for the 3rd Roman emperor). Caliga had extra thick soles and were studded with hobnails.

📸 Models of Ancient Roman Sandals, engraving by Joachim Von Sandrart, 1675-79.

[theviridianbunny]

THE BLACK SAPPHIRE GALA - PART 1; THE BALLAD OF THE MOCKINGJAY

The night of the Black Sapphire Gala holds many stories, memories and secrets.

Victoria Crane belongs to my beloved @another-corpo-rat - thank you for trusting me with her and letting me write her with her wife and hubbie (and soon to give Viridian and Jackie the worst night of their life at this gala ) - Sprimklimg little bits of oc lore into my fics oh Lordy - one day I will give proper exposition to all my world building (when I eventually have the spoons - Ty audhd) This is not beta read and I’m currently posting this as I sit by a pool in Egypt in near 30c heat - the sunshine has spurred me on to try and write again (maybe it’s also the one rum and coke I have in the afternoons :3c)

Part two coming soon (ish) - you can also read this fic over on ao3 here ❤️

It started off as just a simple question. Victoria’s golden optics studying her partner through the pain of a large back-lit bathroom mirror. She watched as Amrin’s white and orange cybernetic hand steadily applied that last bit of makeup. The handsome mechanic was all dolled up for tonight. Ornately patterned Golden eyeliner and garnet red lipstick - she wore a backless black halter neck jumpsuit - low cut - a lace bralette underneath. Leather heeled boots made her just as tall as Victoria.

“ my darling- how did you get your burn scar? Victoria's tone was inquisitive. Trying not to pry and pick - to mine and dig on insecurities - this question was caring - and genuine.

Sadly for Victoria - it was poorly timed. Victoria noticed how her partner's body language clammed up - her red eyes avoiding Victoria’s gold for just a moment. Their eyes met through the mirror as Victoria came to her - one golden hand caressing Amrins bare shoulder - there was a moment of silence as Victoria waited for her to speak.

Amrin's lips pursed- before she spoke.

“I’d rather not discuss that - not tonight. In time- ill be happy to tell you the story- but not tonight ” Amrin’s voice was unusually stern as she put away her makeup tidy into a small hessian bag - then stashed away into a draw.

She joined Victoria , who was dressed in a sleeveless gold fronted body suit. Paired with motor oil black kick flared trousers and strapped marching black sandals. Chunky Emerald earrings adorned with golden vipers matched the buckles on the sandals.

“Darling, would you like one of my furs?” Victoria asked - gesturing to her rail of mink and animal furs - a mix of synthetic and the real thing.

Amrin shook her head “no thank you - I should be plenty warm without one, once we’re inside…’

And with that, Victoria offered her hand out to Amrin and the two made their way out of Kurt’s penthouse - entering a glass pained elevator to make their way to the ballroom of the black sapphire.

“How did you get your scar Vic?” Amrin asked - trying to throw the attention off of herself.

Victoria smirked - the golden plating over the old facial wound shone magnificently as she pulled the other woman into her - the two shared a momentary kiss - before the older woman spoke.

Her voice soft - spoken close - like the two were sharing secrets.

“Oh, You know how I got it Amrin-” a golden hand against Amrin's back - holding and tracing up and down Amrin’s spine as she continued “ You know of the incident of 75- you know of the little rabbit... word is, she's here with her dullard tonight… the two have been running around dogtown like a pair of stray puppies. “

As the lift reached the outer balcony- the two women made their way to the ballroom itself. They were under a blanket of stars , smog and light pollution.

Victoria heading to the bar - to drink and find Kurt. Amrin on the other hand made a b-line for the open-air balcony. The night was still young and the party hadn't truly started yet. Guests were still arriving. Amrin knew she was alone out there as she leant over the metal railing.

Amrin looked out onto the night city skyline and sighed to herself. Victoria’s question had stirred something within her… Amrin knew her partner had good intentions- she knew Victoria never wanted to intentionally upset her..

Amrin groaned - she thought to herself that maybe her skin was growing thin.

It had been many years since she left night city - since she left Rasmus and the trauma team. It'd been months since she'd heard from the cyberpsychosis researcher - maybe he'd finally got the hint she didn't want to be in contact as regularly anymore…

Amrin and Rasmus had history - albeit ancient now. From friends to lovers- to husband and wife and work partners - Their eventual divorce was probably one of the most difficult and messiest moments of their lives.

There were times her mind wandered back to the Sakura haired medic -mostly to the little things - the mundane things that made her world brighter. … like how she would come home to the apartment after working a night shift on the trauma team..

She’d come home - worn out and ready to have a shower and fall into bed. The apartment would be stinking of smoke and a symphony of swears could be heard, pronounced in a thick brummie accent.

Curiously would get the better of her , she would venture into the kitchen after taking off her jacket and boots - and see Rasmus plating up a synth bacon sandwich for her - the bacon would be burnt , surely it would be acrid and hard to digest..

But Amrin wouldn't care, the food was made with love and care. That's all that mattered. She'd take the plate from Rasmus and thank him - a quick peck to his cheek before she sat down and tucked into her breakfast. She'd watch as Rasmus would linger for a moment- the two sharing smiles before he would go and get ready for his day shift on the trauma team..

The days of Soft smiles and burnt synth bacon were long gone now.

Mostly all that remained were memories of the stormy night - the one that left the pair both physically and emotionally traumatised. There were only memories of the night that really felt like the beginning of the end.

The night was cold - Amrin wished she'd taken up Victoria’s offer of a fur coat. She knew there was one that would have gone just perfectly … Amrin grumbled to herself in her mother tongue and debated moving inside - but ultimately decided to stay out a little longer.

She booted up the hollo , she scrolled down to Rasmus's holo icon. A sakura blossom - entangled between dna heelexis. Her fingers dwindled and she hesitated- before taking the plunge and calling him. Her mouth going dry - she didn't know what to say- she just wanted to hear his voice…

The ringer rung out until it went to answer phone - Rasmus's familiar voice spoke with a calm - yet professional demeanour.

“This is Rasmus Sundburg - Night city trauma team research. Sorry I can't pick up your call right now. Leave a voicemail and I'll get back to you as soon as I can”

The line beeped - prompting Amrin to talk - she sighed deeply, before speaking.

“Rasmus- its me.. Sorry its been a while-” Her mind going blank “Gods- I. . Call me when you can - yeah? We need a catch up.. ”

And with that, she cut the line- before she embarrassed herself further. Face flushed. She reached into her clutch wallet- she pulled out her e - cigarette. Feeling tearful as she took a drag and then exhaled Cherry flavoured vapour.

Hot pin prick tears welling - she sniffed- looking out to the city still.

She cried - silent and alone. Amrin preferred it that way- no one to see her in such a vulnerable state.

Wiping her eyes with her free hand - she grumbled with frustration, more at herself than anything. Her makeup was sure to be smudged by her tears…

Trying to compose herself now- Amrin prepared her to mingle. To be social. To please and be merry - even though all she wanted to do was return to her bed - get into her pyjamas and sleep. She didn't want to be human or socialise - running on empty and burnt out now. The day leading up to this gala had already been hard on her…

As Amrin tried to get herself to breathe - She felt the metal of a cybernetic hand touch the small of her back - Amrin knew that touch from anywhere.

Kurt had joined her now. She was no longer alone.

Dressed down on such an evening. Black tshirt tucked into slate grey cargos. Combat boots polished with new laces.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” His voice stern , but also laced with concert.

“I could ask you the same thing- thought Victoria would be all over you by now” she jerked back at him. Amrin didn't mean for her words to come out as sharp as they had.

Amrin heard how Kurt laughed - how he smiled softly all be it for a moment.

“Oh shes already demanded her quota of kisses - but she made an off comment about you - thought she might have hit a nerve”

Hansen watched as his lover furrowed her eyebrows and took another drag of her e-ciggarette. Blowing out the smoke - she stuffed the cigarette back into her purse.

“I'll take that as a yes-”

Amrin pursed her lips - before speaking.

“ I'm trying to be brave . To talk about the pain- the suffering- the past. But it takes time… I’m just not ready to open up to her Kurt..”

“I know , my dear” his words genuine- soft. Offering out a big cybernetic arm to the mechanic.

“Join me inside? The night is still young- I can direct you to a quiet corner where you won’t be disturbed” a small chuckle arose before he next spoke “and my darling - if any of our guests dares disturb you - know they will feel my wrath and all of dogtown’s too”

He watched how his lover smiled - all be it for a moment - as he took his arm and leant into him. A casual act of intimacy Amrin never thought she would feel again. She stayed close to him for a moment - feeling his warmth against the coldness of the night.

“Ready to go inside?” He asked

Amrin’s reply came as a silent nod.

And so, Kurt lead his dear mechanic inside. Taking her to one of the many bars - where a masculine chromed up bartender was serving a woman in a very expensive dress. Silver hands poured what looked to be an espresso martini, as he wished the woman a good night.

The bartender turned to the colonel and his mechanic.

“What can I get you both tonight?” He asked - instinctively reaching to the scotch for the colonel.

“The usual for me ” Kurt’s gaze travelled to Amrin.

She was still thinking - but then very softly spoke her order.

“A Bloody Mary please - with extra black pepper and spice”

Her social battery just wasn’t there tonight - Kurt could tell as Amrin leant into him.

As the bartender quickly got to work making drinks - Amrin reached into her purse - pulling out a pair of tiny golden plates earbuds - slotting the left one into her ear.

To her surprise - holo rang out quietly.

INCOMING CALL - RASMUS SUNDBURG.

Amrin quickly rejected the incoming call - now wasn’t a good time. She had a Bloody Mary to drink and a social battery to try and recharge.

She quickly messaged her ex husband - frantically typing

“call you back soon. At a corporate engagement” - this was a partial lie. Yes she was at a corporate engagement - no she did not intend to call Rasmus back anytime soon.

She probably would in time - but not tonight.

The mood began to lift as the bartender handed Amrin her Bloody Mary - Kurt his scotch. Amrin letting go of Kurt’s arm to grab her Bloody Mary. She took a sip - it was definitely spicy enough.

The two moved away from the bar.

Kurt took a mouthful of his beverage before he gestured towards the roulette tables.

“There’s a quiet nook on the right side of the roulette tables - a few comfy sofas with cushions.” He placed his hand over Amrin’s back as a sign of comfort “ You can spend as much time as you’d like there - and also know there’s no pressure to stay, you’ve got a key to the penthouse- you can go and make yourself comfy up there if that would be easier on your mind” Kurt’s tone was reassuring.

“Thank you,Kurt. I think I will be fine down here.”

Amrin’s gaze travelled to the red haired twins at one of roulette tables. Feeling the mischievous energy of the woman in yellow.

“The two redheads won’t cause me trouble - right ?” She asked - debating putting her second ear bud in.

She heard how Kurt laughed.

“Oh, the netrunner twins?” He asked

“Yes, them. The woman gives me uneasy vibes”

“Aymeric” he gestured to the man in blue “and Aurore” the woman in yellow “they will not cause trouble - I promise you.” Kurt reassured his lover.

He took her cybernetic hand and kissed the back of it - before he continued

“If for whatever ungodly reason they decide to give you trouble or grief - or even look at you the wrong way - you are to send me a message on the hollo - I will send Victoria down to give them a bollocking- or I will do it myself.” - there was a slightly comedic tone to his voice.

He placed another kiss on her hand- for luck.

“Does that sound fair Amrin?” He asked. Seeing how she smiled felt like his evening had been made already

“It sounds great” she replied - taking the other ear bud from its case - placing it into her ear - the world around her went blissfully quiet.

The two shared a kiss before they parted ways. She waved to Kurt before she turned and walked away.

As Amrin made her way to the roulette tables - she passed a woman with short teal hair and skull implanted kiroshis. An Arasaka cyber arm partially visible through the mesh sleeves of her blouse. High waisted trousers and blocked heel boots made her appear tatter than she actually was.

The handsome mechanic watched from afar as the woman ordered a very blue looking cocktail and thanked the bartender - she watched as the woman wandered across the ballroom to a very tall and broad man - dressed in a sharp suit. Golden cross earrings dangled from his ear lobes and delicate cable cyberware mapped out his face. Dark hair shaved short at the back and sides - with a top knot tied with a wine red hairband.

Amrin watched as the man bent down to kiss the woman on the cheek, before she made her way to the quiet spot Kurt recommended. As she passed the netrunner twins and found her self a comfy quiet spot - She booted up her holo. Taking a large gulp of her Bloody Mary before texting Victoria.

“I think I’ve spotted your rabbit-”

[is-the-thing-actually-jewish]

Unsure if this is too broad a question, but do you have suggestions or a basic litmus test for making sure you aren’t buying judaica from a messianic site/publisher/creator/etc?

Excellent question! We delayed answering this a little, since we knew @thejewitches were working on a post about red flags themselves, which you can find here and which we will also reblog momentarily.

We would also add:

Yeshua might also be written in Hebrew as יֵשׁוּעַ , with or without the vowels. In general, if there's Hebrew on it and you don't read Hebrew, it's worth double checking with someone who does (which can also help you avoid gibberish or things written backwards).

A clear fetish for anything from Israel and calling everything Biblical, like calling regular leather sandals “biblical shoes” or calling regular olive oil “biblical anointing oil (not a thing)” are generally a bad sign

A seven branched menorah being marketed for Chanukah isn't ALWAYS bad, but it should make you take a closer look

--Mod Shoshana

[modernviga]

https://www.jennikayne.com/products/oiled-leather-strappy-sandal-walnut?variant=40515858170029&pp=0&epik=dj0yJnU9dWNvLU9jbnplWlQxVXFWaUpLb2lkMlVtZnpFS3o1V0MmcD0xJm49Wmp0Mmx1cGFzWWowTXF4WVhtN3dVQSZ0PUFBQUFBR1JTZ1Jj

[birkenstockindia]

Birkenstock oiled leather collection, you can look and feel your best no matter the occasion 

Birkenstock oiled leather sandals collection is the perfect choice for those who want timeless elegance and unmatched style. Made from high-quality leather that is oiled https://www.birkenstock.in/collections/men-oiled-leather

[nancyheart11]

I thrifted some sandals last weekend and today the mink oil for them arrived!

Base sandal, as bought

With mink oil just on the outside of the straps

Full first coat of mink oil on all leather parts and coating of walnut oil on the wood

I've now put a second layer of mink oil and will let it sit over night.

Wish me some comfy and stylish shoes!

[bebemoon]

look for the name: TEA

jill stuart sheer goddess-drape mini dress w/ all-over sequin detailing, s/s 1998

fendi mini baguette gold beaded and snakeskin leather evening bag

versace gold leather wedge platform strappy lace-up sandals w/ clear plastic medusa emblem detail

kindred black "delta dawn" perfume oil

alighieri "the medusa" choker in 24kt gold-plated recycled bronze

[bitter69uk]

“Not surprisingly, Mickey played Hercules, well-oiled and wearing what seemed to be a very short skating skirt adorned with leather suspenders. Unlike any other male in the movie, Mickey is tanned and greased and so muscle-bound that he can’t walk with his arms at his sides but looks like some kind of great, jerky mechanical bear. The plot, very sketchily, has Mickey’s first wife murdered. He sets out to seek revenge, meets a black-haired tribal queen and falls in love in nine minutes. The black-haired queen is played by Jayne, wearing a black wig and a padded bra. It was some kind of gravitational miracle that she didn’t fall over with all that frontage on her. At any rate, she and Hercules have to overcome a lot of obstacles to their love, including the murderous impulses of the red-haired Amazon queen who captures Hercules. Jayne plays the Amazon queen in a different wig but the same bra. The movie is dubbed in a variety of accents so that Mickey delivers Shakespearean English, Jayne West Coast American and the others sound indigenous to locales between Los Angeles and London … Jayne’s dual roles were an object lesson in male fantasy. She gets to play the demanding, emasculating woman men fear and the demure, passive woman they want.”

/ From Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties by Martha Saxton, 1975 /

Released in Italian cinemas 63 years ago today (19 August 1960): “sword-and-sandals” peplum film The Loves of Hercules (aka Hercules vs the Hydra) starring fabulous fame-crazed husband and wife duo Mickey Hargitay and Jayne Mansfield, made in Cinemascope at the height of the “Hollywood on the Tiber” era. In the UK at least, this movie is seemingly impossible to see. Over the years some scratchy, faded versions have surfaced on YouTube – but always dubbed exclusively in Italian! Where oh where is the 4K restoration English language director’s cut Blu-ray?

[miqojak]

Character Associations: Jak

(Funny, I had this same prompt in two different versions saved in my drafts from the last two times I did it in past years, intending to do it again since it has been years! Good time to tag me...even if I took a month or so to get to it! xD )

I'll smash together these two old ones and put them into this one, resulting in a bit more things to fill out: "5 Things" and "Character Features" - with 3-5 things per category.

✴EMOTIONS/FEELINGS✴

✧ Paranoia ✧ Disdain ✧ Curiosity ✧ Confidence ✧ Arrogance

✴GREETINGS✴

✧ Silent Nod ✧ Clipped wave or nod ✧ Silent, judgemental stare: first impressions don't always go over well ✧ Faint smirk, almost as if she knows something you don't ✧ Fanged grin, if she likes you

✴COLORS✴

✧ Red ✧ Black ✧ Gold ✧ White

✴SCENTS✴

✧ Handmade, perfumed oil (Spiced and earthy/citrusy) - a connection to her past, and the family she lost ✧ Well-oiled leather - what she's often garbed in ✧ Campfire smoke - another reminder of her family/past ✧ The scent of a savory meal on the stove/in the oven - she loves to cook! Having suffered with hunger and near-starvation, the ability to cook good food now is something she relishes.

✴CLOTHING✴

✧ Leather mini-skirt/pants/clothing in general - good for sneaking, or for drawing the eye where you want it...away from where thieving hands might be wandering ✧ Loose-fitting cloth fabrics - the better for the hot places she likes to live/dwell in ✧ Sandals - for when it's hot! (Boots or sneakers when practicality + comfort is the goal.) ✧ Lots of piercings - in her face, and ears.

✴VICES/BAD HABITS✴

✧ Drinking - She drinks now and then, and no longer tends towards being an alcoholic ✧ Drugs - She no longer abuses somnus, and smokes moko a little now and then to relax ✧ Works out too much/pushes herself too hard, out of the paranoia associated with having been a Garlean prisoner of war. If she's fit and fast enough, no one can catch and cage her again! ✧ Holds herself (and others) to incredibly steep, almost unachievable standards out of a belief that one should always be bettering themself. ✧ She loves breaking and entering as a hobby! She doesn't even steal things, most times - maybe moves things around, or breaks things, and just makes herself at home...it's about the power and control, not the stuff.

✴OBJECTS✴

✧ Throwing knives - often coated in non-lethal toxins, and sheathed in hidden holsters in her clothing. ✧ Lock-picking tools, if she's out to do some B&E ✧ DRK soulstone set in a bangle on her tail

✴BODY LANGUAGE✴

✧ Languid, but alert - in the manner of many a large, feline predator; she may seem to be completely at ease...while simultaneously ready to act at a second's notice ✧ Shoulders squared and chin lifted, a stance of stubborn pride ✧ A tail that lashes in anger, or sways slowly when in thought - this body part betrays the otherwise carefully controlled actions of the rest of the little woman. ✧ Feline ears that are almost always on a swivel for sounds that are out of place, or words spoken softly - seeking things meant to go unheard. ✧ Examining her nails - either truly bored, or trying to project disinterest

✴AESTHETICS✴

✧ A weathered, leather-bound sketchbook ✧ A desert campfire, as the sun sets on a sandy horizon ✧ Piano music drifting from another room ✧ A dark, viscous, canine shadow with too many eyes and teeth that hungrily slinks across snowy wastelands ✧ Opposing aesthetics of dark leather, and gold jewelry set against pale, flowing cloth; the street rat, and the empress, juxtaposed

✴SONGS✴

✧ Cold-Blooded - Zayde Wolf ✧ Somebody's Watching Me - Madelyn Darling ✧ Knife Under My Pillow - Maggie Lindemann ✧ THAT BITCH - Bea Miller ✧ Here Come the Wolves - Lola Blanc (An especially poignant and multi-layered song for Jak!)

Tagged by: @hares-and-hounds

Tagging (a bunch of people from my notifs, but do it if you want to, and tag me so I can see!) - @briar-ffxiv @xmimiteh @wpip-raham @uldahstreetrat @captainqster @shieldandarrow @merlwybs-wife @alannah-corvaine @madalyn-maeve @ashenbun @thedawnforged @why-raven @ivyffxiv and...anyone else! YOU, reading this! Do it, and go ahead and tag me so I can read about your OC! (This took me ages to think about and finish, so no rush on knocking it out - in some categories, I even had a hard time coming up with three things, much less five!)

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

16th August >> Mass Readings (USA)

Friday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time 

or

Saint Stephen of Hungary.

Friday, Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time 

(Liturgical Colour: Green. Year: B(II))

Either:

First Reading Ezekiel 16:1-15, 60, 63 You are perfect because of my splendor which I bestowed on you; you became a harlot.

The word of the LORD came to me: Son of man, make known to Jerusalem her abominations. Thus says the Lord GOD to Jerusalem: By origin and birth you are of the land of Canaan; your father was an Amorite and your mother a Hittite. As for your birth, the day you were born your navel cord was not cut; you were neither washed with water nor anointed, nor were you rubbed with salt, nor swathed in swaddling clothes. No one looked on you with pity or compassion to do any of these things for you. Rather, you were thrown out on the ground as something loathsome, the day you were born. Then I passed by and saw you weltering in your blood. I said to you: Live in your blood and grow like a plant in the field. You grew and developed, you came to the age of puberty; your breasts were formed, your hair had grown, but you were still stark naked. Again I passed by you and saw that you were now old enough for love. So I spread the corner of my cloak over you to cover your nakedness; I swore an oath to you and entered into a covenant with you; you became mine, says the Lord GOD. Then I bathed you with water, washed away your blood, and anointed you with oil. I clothed you with an embroidered gown, put sandals of fine leather on your feet; I gave you a fine linen sash and silk robes to wear. I adorned you with jewelry: I put bracelets on your arms, a necklace about your neck, a ring in your nose, pendants in your ears, and a glorious diadem upon your head. Thus you were adorned with gold and silver; your garments were of fine linen, silk, and embroidered cloth. Fine flour, honey, and oil were your food. You were exceedingly beautiful, with the dignity of a queen. You were renowned among the nations for your beauty, perfect as it was, because of my splendor which I had bestowed on you, says the Lord GOD. But you were captivated by your own beauty, you used your renown to make yourself a harlot, and you lavished your harlotry on every passer-by, whose own you became. Yet I will remember the covenant I made with you when you were a girl, and I will set up an everlasting covenant with you, that you may remember and be covered with confusion, and that you may be utterly silenced for shame when I pardon you for all you have done, says the Lord GOD.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading Ezekiel 16:59-63 I will remember the covenant I made with you and you will be ashamed.

Thus says the LORD: I will deal with you according to what you have done, you who despised your oath, breaking a covenant. Yet I will remember the covenant I made with you when you were a girl, and I will set up an everlasting covenant with you. Then you shall remember your conduct and be ashamed when I take your sisters, those older and younger than you, and give them to you as daughters, even though I am not bound by my covenant with you. For I will re-establish my covenant with you, that you may know that I am the LORD, that you may remember and be covered with confusion, and that you may be utterly silenced for shame when I pardon you for all you have done, says the Lord GOD.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Isaiah 12:2-3, 4bcd, 5-6

R/ You have turned from your anger.

God indeed is my savior; I am confident and unafraid. My strength and my courage is the LORD, and he has been my savior. With joy you will draw water at the fountain of salvation.

R/ You have turned from your anger.

Give thanks to the LORD, acclaim his name; among the nations make known his deeds, proclaim how exalted is his name.

R/ You have turned from your anger.

Sing praise to the LORD for his glorious achievement; let this be known throughout all the earth. Shout with exultation, O city of Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel!

R/ You have turned from your anger.

Gospel Acclamation cf. 1 Thessalonians 2:13

Alleluia, alleluia. Receive the word of God, not as the word of men, but, as it truly is, the word of God. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Matthew 19:3-12 Because of the hardness of your hearts Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so.

Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and tested him, saying, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause whatever?” He said in reply, “Have you not read that from the beginning the Creator made them male and female and said, For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, man must not separate.” They said to him, “Then why did Moses command that the man give the woman a bill of divorce and dismiss her?” He said to them, “Because of the hardness of your hearts Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but from the beginning it was not so. I say to you, whoever divorces his wife (unless the marriage is unlawful) and marries another commits adultery.” His disciples said to him, “If that is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry.” He answered, “Not all can accept this word, but only those to whom that is granted. Some are incapable of marriage because they were born so; some, because they were made so by others; some, because they have renounced marriage for the sake of the Kingdom of heaven. Whoever can accept this ought to accept it.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Stephen of Hungary   

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Friday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Deuteronomy 6:3-9 Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart.

Moses said to the people: “Hear, Israel, and be careful to observe these commandments, that you may grow and prosper the more, in keeping with the promise of the LORD, the God of your fathers, to give you a land flowing with milk and honey. “Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength. Take to heart these words which I enjoin on you today. Drill them into your children. Speak of them at home and abroad, whether you are busy or at rest. Bind them at your wrist as a sign and let them be as a pendant on your forehead. Write them on the doorposts of your houses and on your gates.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 112:1bc-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-8, 9

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

Blessed the man who fears the LORD, who greatly delights in his commands. His posterity shall be mighty upon the earth; the upright generation shall be blessed.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

Wealth and riches shall be in his house; his generosity shall endure forever. Light shines through the darkness for the upright; he is gracious and merciful and just.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

Well for the man who is gracious and lends, who conducts his affairs with justice; He shall never be moved; the just one shall be in everlasting remembrance.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

An evil report he shall not fear; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD. His heart is steadfast; he shall not fear till he looks down upon his foes.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

Lavishly he gives to the poor, his generosity shall endure forever; his horn shall be exalted in glory.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

Gospel Acclamation John 14:23

Alleluia, alleluia. Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Matthew 25:14-30 Since you were faithful in small matters, come, share your master’s joy.

Jesus told his disciples this parable: “A man who was going on a journey called in his servants and entrusted his possessions to them. To one he gave five talents; to another, two; to a third, one – to each according to his ability. Then he went away. Immediately the one who received five talents went and traded with them, and made another five. Likewise, the one who received two made another two. But the one who received one went off and dug a hole in the ground and buried his master’s money. After a long time the master of those servants came back and settled accounts with them. The one who had received five talents came forward bringing the additional five. He said, ‘Master, you gave me five talents. See, I have made five more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.’ Then the one who had received two talents also came forward and said, ‘Master, you gave me two talents. See, I have made two more.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.’ Then the one who had received the one talent came forward and said, ‘Master, I knew you were a demanding person, harvesting where you did not plant and gathering where you did not scatter; so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground. Here it is back.’ His master said to him in reply, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I did not plant and gather where I did not scatter? Should you not then have put my money in the bank so that I could have got it back with interest on my return? Now then! Take the talent from him and give it to the one with ten. For to everyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. And throw this useless servant into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth!’”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.