#plus toff

[linskywords]

https://x.com/princesssmitty/status/1887566177385214353?s=46&t=-V2NAQQlLt2yK_JFnHTqcg

WillMack living together is giving shades of jdtz (but hopefully with a better ending)

(link)

Mostly what I'm getting out of this is that Tyler Toffoli wants to have a threesome with Mack and Will every week.

[terresdebrume]

I've written a couple of scenes of Charles' having an emotional breakdown and Edwin comforting him, I felt is was time for the reverse. Set in the I'm down on my knees universe at like. Some point, IG.

Warning for mentions of racist behavior throughout and also implied ableism via the Paynes vs Edwin. Hurt comfort. Sorta.

Edwin's fists start mashing together the second his hands come off the steering wheel, which Charles knows very well is the the top one sign of a stress spiral. It's pretty much the default position for Edwin's hands whenever they go to a social thing he hasn't got the hang on yet, and the morning before all his business law exams. It feels wrong to see them like that now, sitting in front of a rustic looking restaurant where his parents are waiting for them.

"We can still leave you know," he tells Edwin. "Tell them I tested positive for COVID and you don't want to risk giving it to them or something."

Edwin doesn't quite laugh, but the corners of his mouth lift up, and the creak of his leather driving gloves subsides for a moment. He makes a face like when he's trying to figure out how to say something he's not sure how to handle. Charles, one hand on his still buckled seatbelt and the other on the door handle, waits him out. Eventually, Edwin speaks.

"I should have said earlier," he says, sounding for all the world like the words are taffy stuck in his teeth, "but my parents are sort of... Well. They have a certain idea of how the world should work and be divided—"

"Yeah, I figured," Charles says. He grins when Edwin blinks at him. "Everyone else, when we've got plans, you say shit like 'Oh, Charles is making curry tonight'—"

"I do not sound like that," Edwin protests, but Charles snorts.

"You sound exactly like that, you big toff," he says, grin widening despite himself.

Edwin rolls his eyes and calls him ridiculous, fists softening against one another. Grinning to the point his cheeks ache, Charles gives Edwin's knee a light knock with his knuckles. It makes Edwin click his tongue, but Charles doesn't lose his smile.

"My point is, with you're parents it's always like 'Charles is making dinner' and stuff. Like you're playing the pronouns game with food."

Charles suppresses a wince when. Edwin's eyes widen and his fists tighten together again, like tectonic plates gearing up for an earthquake. Of course Edwin was going to take it the wrong way. Charles should have bloody well known better.

"I'm sorry," Edwin says, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Charles shrugs. "I mean they know what I look like, right?"

"Yes!" Edwin promises, hands so tight together it looks like they're going to merge. "Of course. I made sure they couldn't pretend they'd misunderstood, too, I just—"

"Then I'm fine," Charles says, making sure his smile looks easier than it feels. "I was friends with racist gits for years, I can handle your parents for an hour."

Plus, they'll be in public. What are the Paynes gonna do, try to make him join the staff? Calling him the P slur over dessert? They might think it but Charles suspects they're too interested in seeming proper to be that crassly racist where they can be heard. Probably they'll just make some noise about certain types of people and NHS fraud and jobs being stolen away from the homeless people they have no intention to help. Maybe something about Islam—there people tend to assume Charles is a Muslim a lot. He chalks it up to two birds one stone mentality, and the appeal of unlocking two rants over a single guy.

"Alright," Edwin says, looking relieved but not guilt free yet. "But if you wish to leave early, please pretend you just remembered a favour you promised Jenny, will you? I will drive us back immediately."

"Sure, I'll do that," Charles promises. He genuinely doesn't think it'll be that bad, but if he's wrong he'll be glad have the out anyway.

Reassured, Edwin takes a deep breath, and nods, and in they go. Everything is very posh in that very 'bling is for lesser people' kind of way. The menu predictably shows no prices. Edwin's parents make the usual thinly veiled remarks about Charles and Indians and brown people in general, and it's not the most comfortable but Charles could deal with it if not for the Issue.

It starts when they approach the table, Edwin's parents standing next to it with spines so straight Charles half worries he's hunched down again. Edwin places his hands in his mother's to kiss the air around each of her cheek, but then when he goes to press his fists together again, she takes his wrists and pulls his hands apart. Charles's entire back goes rigid at the sight, but he manages to push it aside and smile as he extends a hand for Mrs. Payne to shake. He said he'd do his best to make the dinner a success, and he meant it.

They sit down, Edwin and Charles on one side of the rectangular table, Edwin's parents on the other. Edwin's hands are very flat on the white tablecloth, gloves pulled away and fingers carefully aligned together. They stay there while Edwin answers increasingly invasive questions about his studies and his life, but they drift together again when the Paynes' attention turns to Charles.

"Stop that," Mr. Payne says with a stern look, cutting himself off in the middle of a sanctimonious explanation of why Charles is not being ambitious enough in life.

It's such a complete contrast to the polite, vaguely affable air he took one when speaking to Charles, and he goes back to it so quickly, Charles barely has time to react. The only thing he can think of is to press his knee against Edwin's in comfort. He should have thought of a signal for Edwin, too. Or at least asked if he wanted one.

The entree's arrival provokes some surprised praise over how their brown waiter is surprisingly well trained and articulate, and Charles takes it in stride. They're not actually saying anything to the waiter, and when they do speak he's out of earshot. He's had worse, and Edwin doesn't quite seem to be ready to throw the towel in, so he'll stick it out a bit longer. Even if Edwin's going pinker and pinker with every minute that passes.

They're about halfway through their main dishes and another rant from Mr. Payne—augmented by his wife's approving noise and not much else, Edwin having fallen silent somewhere around the time his gaspacho touched the table. Charles hates to see him like this: Edwin has always had a big personality, a larger than average presence in any room. He should be leading the conversation, or at least insisting on being heard through it, not looking down at the tablecloth with his mouth shut.

Charles is halfway through opening his mouth to pretend Jenny just texted him about plumbing issues, when Edwin's dad speaks again. He has the kind of articulation they promote on the BBC, yet Charles doesn't register any of what he says, only the fact that Edwin's fists fly together without him even noticing, and then Mr. Payne's hand darts from the other side of the table to slap Edwin's closed hands.

Now, see, the thing about Charles, is he's got excellent reflexes. Between dodging his dad's many and varied projectiles over the years, a decade of cricket, and countless hours of playing shooting games, he's pretty much primed for it. Add to that the fact that he's been getting angrier and angrier on Edwin's behalf throughout the meal, and really Charles doesn't think he can be blamed for dropping his knife, reaching out, and slapping Mr. Payne's hands.

"How dare you?" The man hisses in the deadly silence that falls over the room after the exchange.

The whole restaurant seems to hold its breath, the way Charles and mum used to do whenever dad stopped and asked 'What did you just say?'. In the corner of Charles' vision, Edwin's mouth hangs partially open in shock even as Charles hisses:

"How dare you?"

"The way I discipline my son," Mr. Payne starts, and Charles snarls.

"Your son is twenty-five," he says raising his voice on purpose. "You don't get to treat him like a bloody toddler."

"You little—" Payne senior starts, but before Edwin even has the time to react to his dangerous tone, Charles stands up with a loud scrape of his chair against the floor.

"And another thing," he says, loudly speaking over the fast purpling man in front of him, "there's nothing wrong with Edwin. That thing with the hand? You're making a mountain out of a bloody molehill! And if you didn't spend so much time worrying about it, maybe you'd realize Edwin is really bloody mint, actually, and if you can't appreciate him, then I don't see why we should bother staying here at all." Charles pushes his chair back against the table with another loud scrape, and turns to Edwin. "Come on, let's go."

Edwin's parents protest, mildly at first and then more loudly, but Charles doesn't care. He's too furious at them, at the way they filled their son with a sort of guilty shame Charles had never seen until the, at the way they somehow managed to stop him from even wanting to answer.

He waits until Edwin stands up, and then he takes hold of Edwin's wrist and drags the both of them outside. Edwin has to tug hard on his arm to remind him they used a car to come in, actually, and they can't leave it there. He sounds—well he sounds strained, is what he does. The sort of voice that means there's an emotion somewhere he's not letting out, and this time Charles knows exactly where it's going.

"I'm so sorry," he says, "I ruined dinner!"

"Oh," Charles, Edwin sighs.

His eyes are wide and wet and his grin ks kind of wobbly, but he steps up and engulfs Charles in hug anyway, hands tightly clasped around Charles waist. Charles responds in kind, putting as much love as he can into the embrace, into the pressure of his arms around Edwin.

"Thank you," Edwin mumbles against Charles' neck. "No one ever stood up for me line that."

"They bloody well should have," Charles says, gentling his tone when he realizes something warm dripping down his neck.

Edwin, too busy controlling his crying the best he can, doesn't answer, but it doesn't matter. Charles holds him tight until he's done crying anyway.

[omgshiftercat]

BG3 Blogging: Comedy bits, intentional and otherwise

The Rogue-Specific dialogue options tend to be delightful (especially when talking to the li'l tiefling con artists at the Emerald Enclave), but the Barbarian-specific ones, unfortunately, just assume you're an obnoxious jerk, which Karlach is not.

…Though taking the Barbarian-specific option after interrupting the monster couple's romantic encounter is still worth it just for how hilarious the results are.

Being a person who wants the best possible outcome for everyone without feeling like I'm engaging in blatant metagaming, I've had a lot of luck assuming that whoever I'm playing on main has the mindset of, "Things are fucked up all over, so let's see if this person has a reason for doing this weird messed up thing."

…In the case of some -- like literally every goblin -- the reason is "because they're assholes who deserve a good thumping", but hey, we found out.

I found this picture shortly after I played through this scene (again). When playing as Karlach, you have the option to do the celebratory rampage after killing the Zariel agents. I chose "FUCK YEAH!" because I already knew it was in-character for her. A couple of companions had been badly injured in the fight and dropped to 0 HP from fire damage. 😆

I got some previously-unheard-by-me dialogue from Gale, in which he reminisces about his childhood. He says his parents forbade him from getting a kitten, so he summoned a tressym: Tara. I guess mini-Gale must have liked being called "Mr. Dekarios" like a grown-up, and the habit stuck.

…But Gale, don't take people to task for calling Tara a cat -- you do it too.

Having just recently replayed the relevant dialogue: Wyll's father having started out as a blacksmith's son, and having had his son socialize with more common folk than toffs, explains why Wyll has a working-class accent. Though I suspect both of them became adept at code-switching.

Playing Astarion Origin, I just assumed Gale would get all the forbidden magic tomes. This campaign, the vampire immediately expressed an interest. Turns out it's because he's hoping for more info about his own undead condition. Later on, he's arguing with the book, but if you suggest giving it to the wizard to decipher, he snaps, "No! Gale won't eat this one!"

Another note to self: do not encourage the Zhentarim smugglers (the ones being menaced by gnolls) to give you the contents of that lockbox, unless you are doing an evil campaign. It does not seem worth the choice of either murdering one helpless prisoner or getting into a fight with the entire hideout on their turf, plus it seems to cut you out of the "rescue the artist" subplot. I had missed that subplot entirely in the previous run, because I somehow failed to discover the wardrobe that has to be moved to find the secret passage. I found Lady Jannath's house in Act 3, and just sort of wandered around going, "...is something supposed to be happening here?"

How to free the artist without spending any money: get a rogue up front, and choose the rogue-only dialogue option of pointing out that the value of art spikes after the death of the artist. The Zhent will be like, "Oh, that's smart! Just take him somewhere else to do the job, okay? I just know he's a bleater." 🐇: Astarion wouldn't dream of getting artist blood all over the Zhent hideout. Me: But he is enough of a bastard to say, "Actually, I didn't pay anything for you," to which the artist is like, "Out of all the humiliations I've suffered, that has to be the worst."

My friend 🐯 encountered the gnolls shortly after the tollhouse battle and resulting Karlach zoomies, decided that his party wasn't ready for this fight, and took a Long Rest. When he returned, the Zhentarim were dead and the mysterious box unguarded.

Friends who hadn't played using walkthroughs, or played before walkthroughs were commonly available, mentioned that the storyline often conveys a false sense of urgency; you're told that you should do certain things as fast as possible, while in fact a lot of story and character beats depend on taking long rests and exploring as much of the map as possible.

This meant that I discovered, to my dismay, that there were a few things that were time-critical, or could be missed by going to the wrong place at the wrong time.

• The fire at Waukeen's Rest. If you get close enough to have your character comment about smelling smoke or hearing cries for help, go right there. • If you Long Rest after Auntie Ethel makes Mayrina vanish, she'll send her prisoner off to some other member of the hags' coven. • The aforementioned gnolls, and the adventurers with the dying brother.

A lot of the stuff in Act 1 seems to have an unspoken rule that if you get close enough to overhear conversations, or have the characters react, an event has started. An exception is the red dragon flying overhead: you do not have to go and meet the rider right away.

...This last is important because I discovered that if you take the road to the Githyanki crèche before the post-goblin-lair celebration, you miss that party entirely, along with all the character development (and romance!) that happens there.

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

Episode ten - paper

Jack Dawkins x fem reader.

Jack's eyes opened slowly, the room around him was dark. He was on the ground and pain clamped at his chest.

"What's going on?" He asks into the darkness. Footsteps tapping against the damp stone floor.

"Oh weren't sure if you'd wake up, you're losing a lot of blood. My lad hasn't quite learnt how to stab and not kill just yet." The voice felt familiar to Jack.

"Bill?" He says. The man laughs. The rope around Jack's wrist tugs and begins to lift him until jack's feet barely touch the floor.

"No, no my brother is well and truly dead, that Oliver Twist really got him good. Still, little toff is in prison himself now. Sweet justice." He laughed again.

"What?" Jack was finding it hard to keep up.

"Oh, I'm just here getting a little payback. You're collateral damage as they say." He laughed again. Jack felt him come too close, the stink of his breath assaulting his nostrils.

"I never did anything to Bill or you!" Jack strains against the pain from his knife wound.

"Oh I ain't got problems with you, but you dying sure as hell will hurt the people I hate." The man laughed again, slamming his fist into Jack's stomach.

*_*_*_*

"lady y/n, what on earth do you think you are doing?" Sneed questions entering your room.

"I have to help Fagin find Jack" you say, pulling your dressing gown on over your nightdress.

"Find Jack, he only just got back, what happened to him?"

"He was kidnapped, last night. It looks like he was hurt. We have to find him." You say taking your sister's arm.

"And you were just going to let her run off? Y/n has just had heart surgery!" He asked Belle. She tilted her head in a shrug.

"Do you think we could stop her?" She shot back at him.

"At least put on some clothing. If you insist on charging around Port Victory your corset will help keep you together." Sneed sighed. You held his hand.

"thank you, thank you Rainsford."

Belle helps you into a simple white cotton dress, forgoing the hooped crinolines. The corset felt foreign after being in bed for so long. Though you had to admit it was making your chest feel a little easier. You don't bother to put up your hair, choosing instead to simply tie back the front.

When ready you make your way down to the morgue where Fagin waited for you. Aputi, Flashbang, Tim and Red are with him.

"Do we know anything yet?" You ask.

Fagin shakes his head.

"We've heard nothing. Not a dot." He admits.

"That isn't true." You spin heating your father's voice behind you.

"Father?" You take his outstretched hand.

"It appears this is all my fault." He says, leaving a folded slip of paper in the air. You snatch the paper from his hand.

"Governor Fox, you may recall Lord Branwell. You have debt with him and I have come to collect. Arthur Sikes." You read aloud.

"Sikes?" Fagin turns white, "Oh that family is like a bad smell, they always come back."

"Father what did you do?"

Edmund sighs, "Many years ago during my military days I had command of Lord Branwell's son. A fine chap really if not a little wild. Branwell always blamed me for his death"

You put your hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright father, we will deal with this. Surely he will want money and we have plenty." You say.

"No, if I know the Sikes this isn't about money."

*_*_*_*

Jack pulls against the rope holding him up. His fingertips were already beginning to turn blue.

"If killing me is the point why not just do it?" He coughs out.

"Well no need to be boring. We all like to have a little fun in our work. Plus seeing old Fagin's face when he sees your mutilated body will be fun." Arthur bit into an apple as he talked.

"So it is a little about him then?" Jack says between heavy breaths.

Arthur kicks his foot, knocking the tied rope. It uncurls and skids until Jack hits the floor, face first. Blood quickly starts dripping from his forehead. Joining the wounds that now littered his body. Stomping across the room Arthur grabbed Jack's shirt and shoved him onto his back. Crouching over him.

"You know, it isn't really you that I want, I just know having you will bring one Fox's kids here. Then he'll learn what it is to lose a son."

"Fox doesn't have a son." Jack says.

"a daughter then. I hear one of them is quite taken with you." He laughs again. "now how about we choose something to send to them? A finger? The whole hand? And ear? A foot? Hmm? What about your baby maker?" He laughs again, showing his rotten teeth and twirling a knife between his fingers.

"No, please" Jack began to beg.

"a toe then, we'll start small." Arthur pulled Jack's shoe from his foot, sliding the blade between his toes.

"No."

A door opened somewhere behind Jack and a voice called to Arthur. He grabbed Jack's face around the jaw.

"I guess this will have to wait. See you soon, Jacky boy." He shoved Jack's face before rushing away.

"What is it?" He growls at the smaller man.

"the whole town is looking for him. We're done for."

*_*_*_*

"Where has she gone?" Edmund bellowed through the hospital.

"We don't know. She was looking at the paper and then she just took off!" One of the recoats explained.

You had slipped from the hospital and we're making your way through the streets of the town. The dirt scratching against your bare feet. Your sister knew very much about the body, Jack was impressively good at surgery but you, you knew about paper. Seemingly dull to many but upon arriving in Port Victory you had familiarised yourself with each type of paper available to you. Only one was made within the town limits. A basic sheet, thicker than that shipped from England. It had little wooden flecks throughout it, picked up from the sawdust that littered the factory floor. This had to be where they were keeping Jack and you knew exactly where to go.

The cut on your chest pulled at your skin as you walked. You had to ignore it and find him. If you told anyone else your theory they would send an army to the door and that ran the risk of Jack being killed.

You hear a bell being rung and know they have discovered your absence, leaving you little time.

The factory was not a large one, and was connected to a boarding house. You knew it would be stupid to walk in through the front door. Looking around you see a window on the upper floor. You climb the wooden steps on the boarding to balcony and climb onto the railings. You slip, catching your dress underfoot. Grumbling you unclasp it and let the garment fall to the ground, leaving you in just your bloomers, corset and short chemise. Able to move more freely you climb back up and throw yourself across to the small ledge under the window. The bump catches your breath and you're sure you feel something catch below your corset. You pull yourself up and slip into the window, there is an old wooden platform that you stand on. It is filled with old boxes. You hide behind them, doing your best to move quietly. You see Jack lying in the ground and your heat breaks.

A fast sweep of the room tells you he is alone so you slowly make your way down the steps and across the floor.

"Jack?" You touch his face, then check his body. The wound on his chest looked angry.

"Jack, Jack come on you have to wake up." You whisper to him, tapping his face to rouse him. When his eyes finally open he looks up at you. Fear crossed his eyes.

"No, Y/n you shouldn't be here! You have to go. Now!"

You ignore him and u tie his hands.

"can you stand?" You ask. He nods and the two of get up.

"Wait, y/n you have blood on you." He says pressing his hand to your chest.

"Perhaps it's yours." You say, once again ignoring the sting of pain below the corset, "come on we have to go quickly." You pull his arm around your shoulders and start to direct him towards the doors.

"This was silly, you should not have come here." Jack chastised you.

"No she definitely should not have." Arthur's foot kicks into the back of your knees sending both you and Jack to the ground. He drags you backwards by your ankles. No matter how you claw at the floor you cannot stop him. Jack struggles to move as two other men grab at him.

"Here you go my Lord. Just in time for you to watch it." Arthur grabs you by the hair and yanks you back. You meet eyes with a pompously large man who laughs, pouring a glass of wine.

Episode eleven

@fandomfan-102 @darasloves @afalls14universe

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Speaking of the 2007 breakup, I don’t think Kate would have sold williàm out to the press for any amount of money, but furthermore if she had sold him out their circle of friends would have completely ostracized her. So it’s not only because of her « character » and « integrity » that made her keep it zipped, she definitely had other things to consider…

True, but the tabloid narrative at the time was that Will’s upper class friends disliked her. The press created this perception that Kate was a middle class outsider in the aristo circle, instead of someone who had gone to school and college with all these people.

That’s partly why her “single and ready to mingle” phase was such a revelation. It was clear that she wasn’t just Will’s plus one and she was actually a member of this social scene of her own right.

And I think that’s one reason it sold so well and was so popular. She was a regular girl in the world of the toffs and she was prettier and more glamorous than the toffs. People loved it.

[ottersonice]

TOFF!!! he is NOT getting a negative plus minus tonight

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Summary: Tommy and Lucy have some time to kill while they wait for a new tire for the Bentley.

Word Count: 3,775

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, and orgasm denial.

Notes: I swear I did not intend for there to be so much smut in this series. Tommy and Lucy just hijacked things and I’m powerless to stop them. Plus they’re both horny and sad and I feel bad for all the terrible things I’ve put them through recently.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 11: Endless Desire

“Lucy,” Tommy bit back a smile at the way she groaned and tried to burrow her face deeper into the pillow, wild red hair spread out over the soft white sheets. He’d let her sleep in; aware that the previous night had been rather trying on her. “Lucy,” he said again, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “Wake up, love.”

She continued to whine, but rolled over onto her back, dark brown eyes blinking up at him lazily. At the sight of him already dressed, she frowned, sitting up.

“Did I sleep in?”

He shrugged. “I figured you could use the extra hour or two of rest.”

Rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes, she sniffed, blankets pooling around her waist. His eyes darted briefly to the low neckline of her nightgown, offering him a generous view of her cleavage. When his eyes glanced back up at her face, it was to find her looking at him with half a smirk, fingers combing halfheartedly through her hair. Busted. 

Shifting in his spot seated beside her on the edge of the bed, he reached out to cup the back of her head, tilting her head up so he could kiss her softly.

“Good morning.”

“Hm,” she hummed pleasantly, chasing his lips for another kiss when he started to draw away. “Morning.”

He kept his hand still on the back of her head even after they fully parted, thumb rubbing through her soft hair.

“Where’s Tatiana?” Lucy asked, glancing around the room.

“She left. Apparently.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Left? Doesn’t her car still have a nail in its tire?”

“She took my car.”

“She what?”

He was vaguely amused that she’d had the same exact verbal reaction that he’d had when Mary informed him of Tatiana’s departure. “Mary says she told her we could use the Bentley once David comes back from the garage with a new tire.”

“Toffs,” she shook her head. “All their posh talk of manners and behaving properly, and then they go out and steal your fucking car.”

He chuckled, hand dropping from where he’d been caressing her head to wrap around her shoulders. Her soft little palms rested on his chest as she kissed him again. Lucy was always affectionate, but particularly so in the morning, when sleep was still settled in her muscles. Wanting to remain cozy and warm for just a few more minutes before they had to be up to face the day.

Not that he was complaining. 

Remaining seated on the bed, he took a cigarette from his case, watching her lazily as she pulled away from him and began to move about the room. He’d stopped by the room they’d claimed as theirs after deciding they could no longer bear to sleep in the master and grabbed her a clean set of clothes on his way back from convening with Mary. Leaving them set carefully on a chair in the corner when he’d gone to wake her. In one fluid motion, she pulled her nightgown off over her head, and his cock stirred at the sight of her naked before him.

It didn’t really matter that he’d had her twice the previous night, or that they needed to leave soon if they wanted to be on time with the meeting he had planned with his brothers. His desire for her was endless and unrelenting; he couldn’t even imagine a world where he wouldn’t want her. 

Her breasts bounced lightly with her movements as she tossed the nightgown in the general direction of the hamper, then huffed as she missed and had to cross the room to retrieve it, throwing it into the hamper with a little more spite than she had the first time. Tommy felt his jaw clench as he watched the strong muscles in her back and arms flex, eyes trailing down, taking in the faded scars that marked her pale skin like tiger stripes, stretching with each one of her movements. Her legs were strong too; thighs in particular shapely and corded with muscle from years spent riding horses bareback. Tommy unintentionally tightened his fingers around his cigarette, almost crushing it while he fought back the desire to pounce on her.   

Then she bent over to pick up her shirt, folded where he’d set it down on the chair, and all his self-restraint went out the fucking window.

“Tommy!” she laughed in surprise at the sudden presence of him pressed flush to her back, arms around her waist, lightly tracing over the soft skin of her belly. She giggled, head tilting to give his mouth better access where it was already pressing kisses into her skin. “Don’t we–mm…” she cut herself off with a small moan as one of his hands slipped up her stomach to cup her breast. He groaned as he rolled her stiff nipple between two fingers, pressing the growing bulge in his trousers to the small of her back. “Don’t we have to go meet Arthur and John?” she managed to get out, head falling back to rest against his shoulder, eyes glassy with building arousal.

“They can wait,” he said, turning her around in his arms, hands landing on her hips and head dipping to kiss her hard, walking her backwards until her back hit the wall, his hand cradling the back of her head to cushion it.

“Besides,” he slipped his thigh between her legs, pressing it upwards against where he knew she needed him, grunting when she ground down against it. “Who knows how long it will take David to come back with that tire for the Bentley, eh?”

“Mm…good point,” her fingers clenched in the fabric of his waistcoat at his shoulders, head tilting back. Tommy dropped his face down to kiss along her throat, hiking up one of her thighs onto his waist with the other, her hips rocking as she began to grind rhythmically against his thigh.

“And then he’ll have to take off the old tire…” his breathing was getting heavy, cock thick and hard between his legs, straining painfully in his slacks, wanting nothing more than to be buried in her again. Tight and warm and wet…he groaned at the thought, hips beginning to rock and thrust forward of their own accord. Grinding desperately against her through his clothes like he was a fucking teenager again. “Put on the new one…could take a while.”

“Plenty of time to kill,” Lucy’s pupils were blown so wide with lust they were but surrounded by a small ring of deep brown. Tommy’s hands skimmed over her curvy little body, feeling along the dip of her waist, then the flare of her hips. Burying his face between her tits with a growl, he grasped the other thigh not yet hitched over his waist, and with one hand there and the other firmly taking hold of her ass, he scooped her into his arms. Lucy moaned at the way it more firmly pressed his clothed erection against her, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face seeking out his. Kissing him enthusiastically while he carried her the short distance to the bed. 

He broke the kiss only briefly to lay her down on the mattress and climb over her, and then his mouth came crashing down on hers again, large hands squeezing her hips, pressing his body flush to hers. Propping himself up on his arms, he groaned when her lips brushed along his cheek, nosing adoringly at his jaw. He soaked up her affection like a sponge. Like he was starved for it.

She was the only one left who treated him this way. Gentle and soft. Knowing just how badly he secretly needed to be touched and held and loved. Her legs coiled around his hips, tightening like a python. He would have liked to remain that way forever, encircled in her arms and legs, drowning in the warmth of her love. 

Lucy raked her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp in just the right way to make him growl into her mouth. Satisfied that his hair was thoroughly rumpled, she smoothed her hands down his chest, hastily undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, mumbling something about how unfair it was that she was already naked and he still fully clothed. Once unbuttoned, she shoved the waistcoat off of his shoulders to the floor like it had personally offended her.  

His cock throbbed painfully when she took him by the tie and dragged his face back down to hers for another kiss, lips molding together firmly. While she fumbled with his button down he busied himself sucking marks into her neck, tracing his tongue along the shell of her ear and grinning smugly to himself when he felt her shiver in his arms. He had a very vague thought that his clothes would probably be horribly wrinkled after this when she tossed his shirt to join his waistcoat on the floor. But he was a little too preoccupied with making his way down her body to take one of her hardened nipples into his mouth to care all that much. 

Lucy moaned, back arching, and now that he was naked from the waist up he could more plainly feel it when she dug her short, red painted nails into the skin of his shoulders, hips grinding up into his. Tommy groaned. His cock was positively aching. So swollen between his thighs that he felt he could burst at any moment, gritting his teeth as every little grind of her hips against his had him teetering on the edge.

Shifting his hips strategically away from her–if he came in his pants after barely being touched she would lovingly tease him about it for the rest of eternity–Tommy began to pepper kisses all over her beautiful body. Mindful to pay special attention to her faded scars. Her skin was so soft, body made up of firm muscle contrasted with soft curves that made his mouth water.  

Adjusting himself, he still used one hand to carefully prop himself up above her. She always insisted that he worried too much about hurting her; but he couldn’t help it. Lucy was so tiny; it wouldn’t take much to accidentally crush her beneath him. The other hand crept between her thighs, growling and eyes practically rolling in his skull at just how wet he found her to already be. His cock twitched; eager and impatient to be inside her.

Lucy moaned, her entire body jerking when he circled his thumb around her clit, index finger teasing at her entrance, collecting the wetness seeping from her and coating his fingers in it. 

“Tommy,” Lucy whined, and he closed his eyes at the way his name sounded on her lips. Nuzzling, then kissing her cheek at the same time he sank his finger into her. She made a strangled sound, thighs twitching and walls fluttering around him. Eyes opening to check that the sound she’d made had been out of pleasure and not pain, he watched her features intently as he started to work her over with practiced, expert movements.

They had been together for years, now. He knew her body better than his own. Knew exactly where to kiss or nip to have her squirming underneath him. Knew never to pull her hair. And particularly, he knew just what way to move his fingers inside her to have her coming in mere minutes if he wanted her to. 

“Ohhh…” Lucy’s head tipped back, red hair fanning out around her head on the pillow, those full, plush lips opening as she uttered her sounds of pleasure shamelessly. Tommy kept his thumb applying steady pressure to her clit while he circled it, crooking his finger and pumping at a steady pace, adding a second one when he deemed her ready enough. Which didn’t take long, considering how wet she was.       

“That’s it…” he mumbled, biting back a smug grin at the way her walls clenched tightly around his fingers at just the sound of his voice. His hips rutted a little against the mattress at the memory of that time he’d slipped into her and hadn’t moved; had just muttered dirty things into her ear until she’d been babbling and begging for him. How all it had taken was an innocent readjusting of his hips, the subtlest shifting of his cock within her, to have her coming hard around him. He’d been cocky about it for a month, teasing her relentlessly about how he could make her come with practically just his voice alone. Much to Lucy’s exasperated amusement. “That’s my girl…”

Her walls spasmed, voice rising when he made sure to massage against that specific spot inside her with every pump, and he knew she was impossibly close. 

“Oh, fuck, Tom–”

“Close, love?” he asked with mock innocence. As if he didn’t already know.

“Uh huh,” she nodded frantically, hips rolling up to meet his hand, eyelids lowered and freckled cheeks flushed. Her toes were curled. Tommy pressed his forehead to hers, theirs mouths so close they could have been kissing even though they weren’t; instead just breathing each other in. Her cunt made a wet, lewd sound with every move of his fingers, her walls fluttering around him.

“Let go,” he whispered, lips moving against hers, finally tilting his head so that he could kiss her properly, swallowing her moans as if they were oxygen.

Her cunt clenched down hard around his fingers as she came, gushing around them and spasming wildly, crying out against his mouth while her hands clutched at his hair to drag his mouth closer to hers. 

“Mm,” Tommy hummed, pleased. His cock still ached where he had been unconsciously rubbing against the mattress. Kissing her cheek, he brushed his face affectionately against hers, knowing how much she liked a little pampering after coming down from her high. “Good girl.”

Her already spent walls clenched around his fingers in response to the praise, and he pressed his grin into her neck to hide it. Gingerly pulling his hand away from her, he raised his slickened fingers to his lips, sucking each digit individually into his mouth purposefully, maintaining eye contact with her when he did. Lucy’s throat worked as she swallowed, breasts heaving with her breaths. She tasted sweet on his tongue. Almost heavenly. Pulling the last finger from his mouth with a small slurp, he rested his weight fully on his palms, coming to rest on either side of her head, and bent over her for another kiss. 

She hummed, tongue pushing into his mouth near instantaneously. Like she was eager to taste herself on him. Her legs wound back around his waist, pulling his hips to hers and rolling against him. Tommy groaned, kissing her hard and messily, hips bucking to rub his still infuriatingly clothed erection against her. He could feel the heat of her pussy even through his slacks, and he was just about to sit up to yank lose his belt and get rid of the final layers between them when Lucy tightened her thighs around him, and in one fluid motion rolled them so that his back hit the mattress. She settled in his lap like she was born to be there, adjusting herself so she was properly astride him, features pinching for a brief moment in an expression he recognized as her look of concentration when she was getting herself situated on the back of a horse.       

“You got to be on top both times last night,” she said in explanation, voice a few octaves lower than normal. Tommy groaned, allowing his head to fall back against the pillows, his hands smoothing along her thighs.  

Lucy’s nails drew lightly down his chest, trailing over his stomach. Sitting up so he could wrap his arms around her and prop his back against the headboard, Tommy tangled his hands into her hair, taking care not to accidentally pull it when he cupped the back of her head and guided her mouth back to his. 

She humped down on him, and he moaned into her mouth, growling when she cupped his clothed cock, his hips thrusting into her hand. Unlatching his belt and then undoing his trousers, Lucy raised herself up off his lap for only a moment in order to pull his pants and underwear entirely off. And then she was settling back on top of him, wrapping one of her small hands around his straining cock, stroking from base to tip and smearing the beads of precum already gathered there.  

“Lucy,” Tommy moaned obscenely, one hand squeezing her thigh. His cock throbbed painfully in her hand, and he was beginning to think that if he couldn’t be inside her soon, he would die. She nodded, raising herself up just enough to line him up, his hips reflexively jerking when the head made contact with her slick entrance. Slowly, Lucy lowered herself onto him, and his eyes rolled at how hot and wet she was, walls practically sucking him in as he penetrated her. 

Lucy made a soft keening sound when he finally bottomed out, hands landing on his shoulders to help keep her balance, forehead against his. He smoothed the hand that had been buried in her hair down to splay out across her back, keeping her close. She raised off of him, and then back down, mouths parting against each other at the pleasure the movement invoked.

“Lucy,” he said again, reverently, arms wrapping around her while she began to move steadily, his hips snapping up to meet each of her thrusts. She felt fucking divine around him; so tight and wet, taking him all the way to the hilt with every thrust.   

She always looked glorious when riding him: head thrown back and tits bouncing. Lips parted with her pleasured sounds. The bedframe creaked with their combined movements. Tommy dropped his head to bury into her shoulder, breathing in the faded scent of her perfume she’d applied the night before. His brow furrowing with the concentration he applied to not coming too soon. Not that he was alone in that endeavor, if the way that she was already tightening and fluttering around him was any indication. 

A rather wicked idea suddenly occurred to him, and he wetted his lips, a devilish smile blooming across his face before he could stop himself.

“Lucy,” he whispered, far more conspiratorial this time, raising his head, one hand remaining latched to her thigh while the other caressed her face.

“Hm?” she had closed her eyes at some point, but she opened them at the sound of his voice, still rolling her hips.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?” he asked, nuzzling at her sweetly. Her walls spasmed around him.

“Uh huh…”  

“Don’t cum.” he commanded, pulling his face back enough to look her sternly in the eye, voice rough despite the tenderness of their fucking. Lucy whined, biting her lip and widening her eyes at him pleadingly. Tommy smiled evilly. “Not until I say.”

“Tommy…” she begged. He cocked his head innocently.

“Don’t you want to be good for me?” he asked again.

She sobbed, head falling back. He knew she wanted that more than anything. She nodded frantically.

“Then don’t cum. Not yet.”

They continued their slow, torturous pace; hips rolling languidly while he held her firmly to him and she clutched at his shoulders. He could feel the way that she was fighting desperately to clench her muscles and keep herself from cumming before he gave permission. Tommy dropped his gaze to where he was buried inside of her, groaning at the sight of their bodies connected. His engorged cock gleaming with her wetness as it pumped in and out of her tight little hole.  

“So beautiful,” he kissed her temple, the hand on her thigh sneaking in between her legs to rub her clit in tight little circles. She whimpered, and he knew just how close she was.

“Tommy…Tommy, please…I can’t…”

“You can,” he whispered, nose tracing along her cheekbone, following his mouth where it brushed over her skin. She gritted her teeth against the mounting pleasure, trying to battle it back, and he tsked playfully. “So greedy for a second orgasm when I’ve already given you one…” he clicked his tongue.

“Tommy!”

He hissed as her nails dug pleasantly into the skin of his shoulders, small body tensing with everything she had as she fought back her need to come. He bit the inside of his cheek at the sight, and in response to the tightening of her cunt around him, his cock throbbed, and his balls fluttered in preparation, cum building heavily within them. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

Putting more pressure on her clit, he pulled her closer, and kissed her. His hips rolled upwards, trying to, by some miracle, get deeper inside of her. His cock throbbed, and he felt his balls tighten.

“Come,” he whispered against her lips, and she cried out against his mouth, body relaxing and tensing simultaneously in his arms as she let go. Her walls clamped down on him like a vice, and he was right there along with her, pushing in to the hilt and holding himself there, growling as he came explosively, balls tightening and cock throbbing as he emptied generous bursts of seed into her. Lucy slumped fully against him, collapsing into his arms with the force of her orgasm. Tommy’s chest heaved from it, heart pounding hard enough against his ribs he was sure she could probably feel it. She was panting too, head nestling against his chest with her arms still loosely draped over each of his shoulders. 

Neither of them said anything; they didn’t have to. Instead they just laid in comfortable, blissed silence, holding each other. Tommy eventually shifted slightly to let his softening cock slip out of her, Lucy curling into a ball on top of him, only whining slightly as their combined releases began to seep out of her. Gathering her up more firmly into his arms, Tommy kissed the top of her head.

“Do we need to get going?” Lucy asked in a tired mumble, snuggling closer. He’d always secretly loved how cuddly she was. The idea of just staying there in bed with her for the remainder of the day was becoming more and more alluring. Certainly more so than driving into Small Heath and meeting with his brothers.

But they would have to go soon. There was no way around it.

“In a minute,” he whispered, burying his face in her soft hair.  

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[fathertoffoli]

1. “please, just hear me out.” with nick/cole <3

little context: this is originally a scene that i wanted to put in a long-time-lost-fic for a detectives!milouvians series that i... never wrote properly. this was just the vibe that i was going for, so i hope that you'll enjoy this one <3

~⁎~

It has been a week for Cole. He’s been sent down to Laval after what was supposed to be his rookie season. Fair to face the ugly truth that it’s literally over now. There is no turning back there. He’s screwed. And worst; now that he’s going down, Nick has broken up with him.

Or has it really? Because there have been some versions going around for a while now. Mostly because he is staying at the cousins’ manor since it’s closer to the metro and that there are plenty of spaces for him to stay... even if technically, Milou is renovating it herself with the help of the rest of the cousins that come and go. But even she has been busy lately with another of her case as a semi-private detective.

Cole self-proclaimed himself a cousin, since he always hangs out there and that he is always around Gally. Plus, he considers Toff as his big brother... and a father figure. And since both are cousins, it just makes sense that he is too, right? That’s just Cole’s logic. “What is he doing here?” Fernando asked the other day to his cousin.

Cole was looking at the wall that he was depressively painting. He wasn’t any help, to be honest but he was making his part. Slowly but surely. “He... uh... is having a time,” Milou shrugged.

He should’ve seen this coming. That one day he would be separated from Nick and that they would split up like this. He just didn’t envision that it would be this way, you know? He looks like these desperate damsels, waiting for their knights to come back from the war and wondering if they still think about them.

Problem being on this case, he thinks he knows the intentions of the knight in question.

“Can you just let me talk to him?” He suddenly hears the voice of Nick from the kitchen.

Cole finished his bite before heading down the stairs. “Yep, absolutely,” Joseph even agrees. Those damn meddling Milouvians! Of course, they arrived when he was taking a break to talk about the case that they are working with Milou.

“Cole!”

“Nick?” He asks. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean: what are you doing here? I’m here to see if my boyfriend is ok since it’s been two weeks since he answered any of my texts,” Nick crosses his arms around his chest.

“Boyfriend?”

“Yes?” Nick asks back, confused by the question mark.

“Oh, you don’t know...” Milou realizes because of course she does. She knows everything being a freaking detective. Which is pretty amazing considering that Cole hangs out with Gally and Toff all the time since they are on the same team.

Unless they are injured or something. Which they are at the moment, you know.

“Don’t know what...”

“Well, you know, about Laval.”

“What about Laval?”

The Milouvians and Milou look discouraged at this point.

“Us. The Rocket. Me being sent down,” Cole rambles. “You know, I understand your decision. It wasn’t just meant to be after all...”

Nick collects every bit of non-helpful conversation afterwards as he finally understands what Milou meant earlier. “Ok, Cole...” he tries to cut out.

“And I was so in love that I wasn’t...”

“Cole!” He shakes him. “Please, just hear me out,” the captain says as he locks his eyes in him. “We’re not breaking up, I never ever said that, you idiot.”

“... but I thought...” Cole tries to say.

“Uh, uh,” Nick immediately cuts his bullshit. “Just because you have been sent down doesn’t mean anything in our current relationship.”

Cole doesn’t even dare looking on his side because he already knows that he’s being judged by some we told you so faces. “... Oh, so...”

“No, we’re not over,” Nick promises. “Now, are you going to be more dramatic about it or are you going to act like a normal person and show me around your new place?”

Cole sighs in relief and he almost forgets the company around them that doesn’t add anything to let them talk in peace.

[kiddo-sulk]

💄 Inventaire makeup de fin d'année p.2

💄

Partons à la découverte de la deuxième partie de mon inventaire makeup ! Il faut vraiment le terminer 😅

Catégorie 5 : produits lèvres 👄

Plus jeune, j'étais attirée par des couleurs plus "excentriques" comme les violets flash, les verts sapin pailletés, etc. Avec le temps, je me tourne de plus en plus vers des classiques nudes marronés et M. me préfère avec des rosés et rouges. 💋

Lipstick mat Rose boisé - Peggy sage

Butter gloss Praline - NYX

Pout bomb Sauce - Makeup Revolution

Smart 435 - KIKO

Smart 434 - KIKO

Sandstorm 1440E - Wet & Wild

edition Red Valentine Babe 303 - Mesauda

edition Red Valentine Honey bee 301 - Mesauda

Liquid lipstick Lolita - KVD

Liquid lipstick Hot hippie - Huda beauty

Silk Balm Toasted - Huda Beauty

Cream lip stain mat Marvelous mauve - Sephora

Matte Allure Haters - Sheglam

Matte liquid lipstick Maven - Sheglam

Lip tint Good habits - Sheglam

Liquid lipstick Hot cider - Sheglam

Liquid lipstick Macaron - Sheglam

Liquid lipstick Topaz - Sheglam

Lip & kiss pro contour 01 -Adopt

Lip & kiss pro contour 04 - Adopt

Lipliner First coffee - Sheglam

Lipliner Concret jungle - Sheglam

Crayon levre Muffin 344 - Max&More

Lip liner Fall 2.0 04 - Kiko

Prime universel - SEPHORA

Lip stain liner Marvelous mauve - SEPHORA

Lipliner Toffe - PS

Lipliner Toast - PS

Lipliner Spice - PS

Cette catégorie ne DEVRAIT pas beaucoup évoluer dans l'année 🤞

Catégorie 6 : les oubliés 🥸

Oubliés car ils n'étaient pas dans ma coiffeuse mais dans une trousse au fond de mon bazard de sac à main😅

Shadowstix Sip&Sparkle - Fenty

Huile à lèvre - Steve Laurant

Cushion (référence ???)

Hydraliner Panda - SUVA beauty

Pro/base foundation stick 142 - MUA

Duraline - Inglot

Colle à faux cil - Sheglam

Ils rejoignent maintenant leur catégorie respective dans la coiffeuse 😁

Catégorie 7 : les liners cakes 🖌️ Ils méritent une catégorie rien qu’à eux 🥹

Split liner @glisten_cosmetics Teintes de gauche à droite : Peach Melba Rasberry punch Buff Olive tree Blue heaven Tortoiseshell Wink Slushie Green tea Beach Gateau Mondays Split peas Wine time Pretty in Camo The royals Red velvet Delight Turtles

J'ai eu une période où je ne faisais rien d'autre sur mes paupières que des liners colorés/graphiques... La marque Glisten Cosmetics propose même des métallisés/duochromes/pailletés, il n'est pas impossible que je craque encore chez eux 😏🙄

[static-errorcode]

but I love them both part 4

This takes place three hours after the last chapter

btw *inhales* PROFILY IS IN THIS CHAPTER SO ENJOY HIS COMPANY

Enjoy

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

Y pov:

I was at the same tree I woke up from this morning working hard to bring bacm minus...

Y: what happened to you that day? Why did you kill of them

Flashback

Plus: were here

Minus: thank God your here

Y: where's ÷?

Minus: I don't know we got separated

Plus: then how do you have his phone?

End of flashback

I started to tear up on what happened after that just thinking about it makes me choke up my tears, 15 lost her best friend who started to kill everyone, qe couldn't recover D or <, and now I'm trying to bring minus back from the dead

Then all the sudden I herd screams and a explosion

Ratio pov:

I was walking around minding my own business when I herd an explosion

I looked at where thw explosion came from to see someone screaming for help

????: HELP MEEEE

I ran tk one childhood bff Y to tell her what I saw

Ratio: Y?! I saw an explosion and...

Y: I saw but what do we do

Then six and five just zoomed in out of no where and Saved the weird blue thing

I looked at Y who's face was all orange

I could feel her heartbeat pounding ( I gave ratio Similar abilities that toff has from avitar last Airbender)

Y pov:

My heart was skipping so fast after what I just saw

I could help but blush

Ratio glared at me with a confused look

Y: u....u...you two should team up more often, cause what you did was so cool

Six and five looked at eachother the gave a death glair after

????: can you guys stop holding ms like a baby and let me down

Five: oh sorry

Five dropped the weird blue thing

I took a closer look and it looked like and profile picture?

Tbc

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

Thank you so so much to @smoken-bagel for sending me this image to use for my story

next chapter I'll add J so see you on my next post

BYE

[organicfarmfamily]

Sheep and Alpaca wool, fleeces, pelts 🐑 🦙

Good evening happy healthy life seekers 🤗👩🏼‍🌾🏡

This evenings TOFF chatter is all about our fluffy, hairy, amazing, happy, healthy life friends ~ sheep and alpacas in particular their fleeces/pelts🦙🐑

Many sheep farmers struggle in the UK in disposing of their sheep fleeces due to the huge decline in the UK wool manufacturing industry. Only one organisation in the UK will actually take in raw, unwashed pelts ~ sheep fleeces and the cost of transportation and shearing means the farmer barely breaks even if indeed scrapes a few coppers profit.....it's becoming unviable 🙄

Here at TOFF, we've even heard of farmers trying to burn the pelts and wool 🔥😲 but to no avail as they do not burn well so many result to burying.......farmers often bury things when other options are against them 🤔

However.....there's always a better happier and healthier work around solution 🎉 to all life's organic farming woes 🤗

Here we go with various options for using the unwanted fleeces, wool and pelts......

Weed membrane 🌱

The fleeces of both sheep and alpacas make amazebugs incredible weed membrane 🤗 The alpaca wool is a little soft and due to the manor of trimming our furry friends is often in chunks of hair so there is a tendency for them to blow away however a fine mesh top placed over the wool and pinned down prevents this issue 🎉🌱

The sheep pelts and fleeces are super at the job as they are often heavy, laden in lovely wool and due to the shearing of the sheep are often in one full pelt so they lay down to the ground super well.

Here at TOFF we take in sheep and alpaca wool twice a year following their shears and trims and they have proven themselves to be super at surprising all weeds! 🤗👩🏼‍🌾🌱🤗

To plant, with the wool in place is also super easy, no cutting of plastic simply pull the wool apart and you're good to grow 🪴

As the fleeces are naturally biodegradable, they break down naturally and nicely adding fertility to the soil along the way 🌱

Many other positives and plus points too ~ they conserve rain for your plants, locking in the moisture, the lanolin content ~ natural oils within the fleece repel slugs and pests so perfect for your vegetable and cut flower gardens ~ we use them around our blackberry and herb plants 🌱

And the list truly does go on......they're super for overwintering your plants outside ~ you're effectively wrapping them up in a pure natural fleece so the plant roots are protected over winter ❄️🌱🤗

As we are strictly organic we have a supplier who doesn't spray the sheep and alpacas with any toxic nasties so all healthy raw wool

It's a win win win 🌱🤗🌱🤗🌱🤗🌱🤗

External matting to create traction / anti slip

If you have an external area which always becomes boggy or slippery....fleece to the rescue.

For such a problem patch we strongly advocate the raw sheep's wool as the fibres are stronger and matted.....the alpaca is a little finer and silkier.

The heavy raw sheep's wool with it's strong fibres matted together ensures a non slip surface, perfect for grassy verges and muddy pathways....it also works incredibly well under your car tyres in winter as it creates traction ~ tried and tested in TOFF motos 🚗 🤗

Insulation 🏡

For many years sheep's wool has been used to insulate, in cavity walls on natural, healthy builds and in loft spaces. It's DB (decibel) rating is great, it's low burn and highly insulative from the cold ❄️🥶

However....caution! You probably shouldn't start loading up your roof space with raw sheep's wool just yet as you may find yourself with a moth and pest infestation as along with us humans they love it too 🙄🐑🦙

The raw wool needs treatment first, along with washing etc it's also passed through strong UV in order to destroy any pests prior to being compressed for insulation. Two companies in Ireland undertake such vigorous procedures 🤗🏡

We have heard wool insulation chatter regarding using it raw in external spaces....animal housing and sheds without the use of UV 🤗

Compost 🌱

Here at TOFF HQ we are early days in our own experiment with raw wool 🦙🐑

In our compost bay....so far so good with learnings along the way! We've used a lawn clipping, raw wool, horse manure, used coffee grinds and used tea bag mix ~ all organic of course . We do not use food waste - green elements due to the local Roland (ratty) 🐀

Our learnings.....go easy on the amount of wool added...it takes quite a while to break down (hence why it's so fabulous as a weed barrier!) we were a little heavy handed when layering the wool element so sifting out is one of our summer jobs ☀️

Garden twine 🪢

Instead of conventional twine, the raw wool...we'd advocate sheep wool....can be spun, even as simply in your fingers🤌🏼 to create fantastic garden twine, super natural adding to our happy healthy life in the garden 🏡👩🏼‍🌾🤗

Happy evening to you all ~ happy healthy life seekers 🤗

Love TOFF x

👩🏼‍🌾🌱🏡🐑🦙👩🏼‍🌾🏡🌱🐑🦙👩🏼‍🌾🏡🌱🐑🦙

P.S~ as always, we would love to hear from you, if you have any questions or chatter please do drop us an email: theorganicfarmfamily@gmail.com

🦙🐑🌱🏡👩🏼‍🌾🦙🐑🌱🏡👩🏼‍🌾🦙🐑🌱🏡👩🏼‍🌾🦙🐑

[theyearthedecadeexploded]

Swinging

Pendant quelques années dans les années 60, Londres fut la capitale mondiale du cool. Lorsque le magazine Time a consacré son numéro du 15 avril 1966 à Londres : la Swinging City, il a cimenté l'association entre Londres et tout ce qui est branché et à la mode qui avait grandi dans l'imaginaire populaire tout au long de la décennie.

La métamorphose remarquable de Londres, d'une capitale sombre et crasseuse d'après-guerre en un épicentre brillant et brillant du style, était en grande partie due à deux facteurs : la jeunesse et l'argent. Le baby-boom des années 1950 signifiait que la population urbaine était plus jeune qu’elle ne l’était depuis l’époque romaine. Au milieu des années 60, 40 % de la population avait moins de 25 ans. Avec la suppression du service national pour les hommes en 1960, ces jeunes avaient plus de liberté et moins de responsabilités que la génération de leurs parents. Ils se sont rebellés contre les limitations et les restrictions de la société d’après-guerre. Bref, ils voulaient faire bouger les choses…

De plus, les Londoniens disposaient d’un revenu disponible plus élevé que jamais – et cherchaient des moyens de le dépenser. À l'échelle nationale, dans les années 60, les revenus hebdomadaires dépassaient le coût de la vie de 183 % : à Londres, où les revenus étaient généralement supérieurs à la moyenne nationale, ce chiffre était probablement encore plus élevé.

Cette combinaison enivrante de richesse et de jeunesse a conduit à un épanouissement de la musique, de la mode, du design et de tout ce qui pourrait bannir la morosité de l’après-guerre. Des boutiques de mode ont surgi bon gré mal gré. Les hommes se sont rassemblés à Carnaby St, près de Soho, pour découvrir les dernières modes « Mod ». Tandis que les femmes étaient attirées vers King's Rd, où les mini-jupes radicales de Mary Quant ont déraillé des rails de son magasin emblématique, Bazaar. Même les modes les plus choquantes ou carrément farfelues ont été popularisées par des mannequins qui, pour la première fois, sont devenues des superstars. Jean Shrimpton était considéré comme le symbole du Swinging London, tandis que Twiggy était surnommé The Face of 1966. Mary Quant elle-même était la reine incontestée du groupe connu sous le nom de The Chelsea Set, un mélange socialement éclectique et socialement éclectique de « toffs » en grande partie oisifs et des acteurs talentueux de la classe ouvrière.

La musique jouait également un rôle important dans le swing londonien. Alors que Liverpool avait les Beatles, le son londonien était un mélange de groupes qui ont connu un succès mondial, notamment The Who, The Kinks, The Small Faces et The Rolling Stones. Leur musique était le pilier des stations de radio pirates comme Radio Caroline et Radio Swinging England. Des types créatifs de toutes sortes gravitaient vers la capitale, des artistes et écrivains aux éditeurs de magazines, photographes, annonceurs, cinéastes et concepteurs de produits. Mais tout n’était pas rose dans le jardin de Londres. L'immigration était une patate politique brûlante : en 1961, il y avait plus de 100 000 Antillais à Londres, et tout le monde ne les accueillait pas à bras ouverts. Le plus grand problème était l’énorme pénurie de logements pour remplacer les immeubles bombardés et les bidonvilles insalubres et faire face à une population urbaine en plein essor. La solution mal conçue – d’immenses lotissements de tours – et les problèmes sociaux qu’elle a créés ont changé à jamais le visage de Londres. Dans les années 1970, avec le déclin de l’industrie et la hausse du chômage, le Swinging London semblait n’être qu’un souvenir très sombre et lointain.

[hyenaswine]

if i trip & accidentally make some art in time, fine. but i'm not gonna push myself, cuz like... all these fuckups do not inspire confidence. plus it's still co-sponsored by toff & i'm still mad at them.

claw emailed to say they're extending the art show deadline to february 21st, which is weird cuz the first email said the deadline was march 5th. maybe extension has another definition...

[blanketingg]

people on twitter being like “tiff and chaddha need to stop giving claire false hope” are so clueless tiff lowkey wants claire to be able to flip the vote but she can’t outright express that to the other co members or america b/c of the optics of being the only member to flip (which is why she needs it to be a group move against x) chaddha, even though i don’t see her going against the co because of how dedicated to it she is, is incentivized to help claire campaign as successfully as she can b/c chaddha needs eyes on x going into the endgame

[topmodelcentral]

Khrystyana Kazakova 

~ America (24) ~

by Todd Hido

[trulycertain]

Reid, swishing in dramatically in fancy coat: Hallo, I’m Doctor Jonathan Reid, and I’m here to solve all you peasants’ problems and only perhaps eat you in your sleep. Why are you looking at me like that?

East Enders, quite understandably: Fack orf.

Reid: *sniff* I say, that’s a tad rude. If this is about class I assure you I’ve worked very hard and I only have one valet, I’m really just like everybody else - 

East Enders: ...Fack orf.

Reid: ...I see. That’s an interesting point of view you have there, my good fellow, perhaps if we just examine it - 

East Enders: ...

Reid: I’ll just turn around then, shall I. Lovely weather we’re having.