#priorities have not been to change the linens

[squigglywindy]

Because it’s been too long <3

[stuckysbike]

His Prize part 3/3

A/n: All mistakes are my own. Written on my phone.

Bucky x Reader

AU: Bucky takes you on honeymoon.

Warnings: author overindulged in their own travel fantasy, p in v sex, Bucky is a sexy menace, happy ending. This is just sex folks, if you’re under 18 please don’t read!

———

“-and we just decided that we’ve been engaged long enough and want to get married.” Bucky finished.

The office in the courthouse was small but the harassed guy behind the desk recognised Bucky and his grumpy demeanour brightened right up after he explained he’d won the office betting pool after Bucky’s last fight.

“How long have you been engaged?” The clerk behind the desk asked as he noted your names into his system.

“About fourteen hours.”

You bit your lip to keep a giggle inside. The clerks eyes flew over both of you then back to his documents.

“We’ve been friends for years,” you added, concerned he would think you were a gold digger or an obsessed fan. “Been idiots in love just as long.”

Bucky squeezed your fingers and you smiled up at him. He couldn’t resist pecking a kiss to the tip of your nose. His eyes were shining bright and he looked relaxed and carefree. And happy.

Four hours later you were on a plane to Paris. Being your best friend you had always shared your dreams and quirky obsessions with Bucky. He had listened to your crazy ramblings, what’s more he was taking you on the trip of a lifetime. You didn’t think it was possible to love him more but he proved you wrong with his travel plans for the next three weeks.

The cabin lights were dimmed, seats reclined and Bucky was already asleep. You held his hand as you followed him into the land of nod.

—————

“Buck- James,” you breathed.

You felt chocked up, and tears threatened to spill.

“You okay Sugarplum?” Bucky pulled you into his side.

“I can’t,” you squeezed your eyes closed, but when you opened them, the view hadn’t changed.

The train sat idle but boarding. The rich blue carriages were elegant and you could feel the history and magic as you gazed at them as they hummed, awaiting their passengers.

“Welcome to the Orient Express my love,” Bucky sounded smug. You couldn’t even be angry at his cocky attitude all you wanted to do was kiss him. “We’re priority boarding, we’re in the Grand Suite.”

“Bucky,” you chocked out and he hugged you close and kissed your head.

“Come on Sugarplum, let’s get onboard,” he said pulling you along behind him.

The Orient Express was everything you had imagined. Your suite was perfect, compact yet elegant and not cramped. Crisp white linens covered the bed, and a small table complete with comfortable seats was placed a few feet away. The bathroom was neat with everything you needed and just enough room to move.

“Welcome Mr and Mrs Barnes,” your private butler said bowing at the waist. “Anything you need at all, just call.”

“Bucky,” you sighed looking up at him. He pulled you into his chest and dropped his lips to yours. You kissed him back, melting into his strength and sliding your arms around his neck.

“You know,” Bucky said pulling away, “I’m the happiest guy alive right now.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked.

“Got my best girl here in my arms, got a wonderful trip planned, got the world at my fingertips,” Bucky rested his forehead on yours. “I’m so in love with you.”

“Oh Buck, I love you so much.”

Bucky had showered and changed for dinner and had headed off to the bar for a drink whilst you took your time pampering yourself. By the time he returned you were putting the finishing touches to your makeup.

You stood as he entered your suite and he gasped. “Wow,” he murmured. The dress hugged your curves and set off your eyes and the heels lifted you a little closer to his lips. “What a wife.”

You giggled and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dining car. It was as beautiful as the rest of the train with carefully laid tables and soft comfortable seats.

The food was divine, and Bucky spent the entire time flirting with you and being his usual charming self. His eyes barely left you, and his feet were tangled with yours the entire evening. By the time you finished your cheese board and wine you were buzzing comfortably.

As you stepped back into your suite your heart was thumping in your chest. Bucky’s wide hands cupped your waist and he pulled you close, swaying on the spot. You rested your cheek on his chest and sank into him, letting him lead.

Bucky’s chin was resting on your temple, and as he pulled back his breath was warm on your skin. You glanced up at him, suddenly nervous. You had never been nervous with him before, not even your first time, but you were tonight.

“I want to make love to you Sugarplum,” Bucky growled. You could only nod, your voice lost.

His kiss was soft, but he rolled his tongue into your mouth seeking yours. You sighed against him as his hands travelled all over your waist and hips. You undressed each other slowly, and as Bucky got to your lace lingerie and stockings he groaned aloud.

“Fuck baby you look absolutely stunning,” he said as he eyed the plump swell of your breasts and your soft thighs. “I want to taste you.”

As you fell onto the thick duvet you bounced slightly but Bucky was over you, his mouth on your chest. He kissed his way down your body and hooked his fingers into your panties, trailing them over your legs.

“So goddamn wet,” Bucky moaned as he latched his mouth over your mound. He dragged his tongue through your slick folds then fluttered it against your swollen clit. Two thick fingers slid into your cunt and he sucked on your clit. You moaned as his pinky brushed your asshole.

Bucky wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and before you knew it he was on his back and you were hovering over his face. He pulled you down, his tongue pushing through your pussy to circle your clit. You cried out and buried your fingers in his hair.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his, and he didn’t look away, his eyes flicking over your body. You brought one hand to tug at your lace covered nipple, crying out as Bucky sucked harder on you. “I’m going to cum,” you warned him. Bucky doubled his efforts, the tip of his finger pressing into your back hole.

Your orgasm was intense, licking up your spine as you shuddered through it, and Bucky only stopped when you pushed his face away. He moved to kissing your thighs and even that had you jerking and tingling under his mouth.

You slumped to the side and Bucky followed you his mouth covering yours. You could taste yourself as you sucked his tongue, nipping the tip playfully. Bucky moaned and rested his weight on your body as you wrapped your legs around strong hips. You pushed your hands into his black briefs and Bucky rocked against you, his mouth not leaving yours.

“Babydoll, darlin’ please,” Bucky said as he kissed your cheeks. You squeezed his ass and nipped his throat as Bucky lined himself up. He pushed into you, his thick cock splitting you open.

“Oh,” You turned to find his lips. “Oh Bucky,” you threaded your fingers through his hair.

“Mrs Barnes,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile. “My beautiful wife.” He used his thick arms to cage you in, them resting on either side of your head and you preened under his possessiveness.

You rocked together, his hips snapping into yours, a wide hand squeezing at your soft tits. He slipped his other hand behind you to remove your bra and soon his mouth was covering your nipple, teeth grazing the hard bud as you arched into his mouth.

You were startled when he moved suddenly, rolling into his back. Warm hands helped steady you and his thumbs grazed the tops of your stockings. “Ride me Mrs Barnes.”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him, and then you sat up. Bucky tried to reach for your tits but you pushed his hands away.

“I’m going to give you a little show Mr Barnes,” you smirked. His lust filled eyes gave you confidence and you plucked at your nipples and squeezed your tits. The train rhythm helped you to rock on Bucky’s cock, and you matched the steady pace.

“Fuck Love, look at you, babydoll,” Bucky babbled. “Such a filthy wife I have.”

“You do have a filthy wife,” you promised him quirking an eyebrow and giving him your most salacious smirk. You slipped a hand behind you and let your fingertips graze his sensitive balls. Bucky cried out and bucked into you.

“You’re killing me darlin’,” Bucky huffed as you changed tactics, rolling your hips in figure eight shapes. You could feel your pleasure buzzing low in your tummy. You laced your fingers with Bucky’s and pushed his hands above his head. Your breasts were swaying in his face and his mouth was slack as he took you in. “I love you so much.”

You dropped close to kiss him and you felt that burn in your groin as your clit bumped his hard pubic bone. You came like that and Bucky wrapped his arms around you guiding you through it.

He flipped you, hooking a leg over his arm and a few pumps of his hips had him spilling inside you. The sensation triggered a further orgasm and you trembled underneath him.

“Sugarplum, baby I love you so much, I’m such an idiot,” he murmured.

“Shush,” you pushed at his shoulder. He rolled back taking you with him and then you eased yourself off him. “Wanna’ taste us Buck,” you said as you slithered down his body to clean his cock off.

Bucky watched you with wide eyes and you didn’t miss his cock twitching in your fingers. You giggled and pressed a kiss to his shaft.

“Come’ere darlin’, come kiss me,” Bucky said pulling you to him. You slid hands underneath his head and kissed his slow and deep, both of you moaning at the sensation.

Later, as you traced patterns on Bucky’s chest you felt more security in his arms than ever before. You fell asleep easily with the man you loved, with the man who loved you and dedicated his life to you.

[gogesimp]

A #五夏 omegaverse AU-

Satoru has been walking around the church courtyard. He knows the elders would frown at such behaviour, he should be attending the ceremony.

But he has a small warm body nestled against his sturdy shoulders, his tiny head resting on Satoru's shirt clad shoulder. The young one is asleep, held close by his father. A tiny hand grasps at the linen stretched taut over Satoru's ripped body, as he slumbers peacefully.

Satoru had decided to walk around, at least this way his baby would feel relief from the stifling heat of the day. He has discarded his own suit & rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which sticks to him because of the sweat. It seems his idea worked because the little one fell asleep as soon as he stepped out of the hall.

He'd have preferred if him & his family were in their temperature controlled apartment, instead of sweating it out here. But Satoru knows that he would never have missed this wedding, even if the heat & humidity are playing spoilsport.

He makes his way back to where Suguru is sitting. He is wearing a suit matching Satoru's, though he knows his beloved would've preferred a dress. But practicality demanded he wear something which would make it easier for him to breastfeed their babies.

Satoru sees him sitting there, holding the other twin against his chest as he feeds him, a serene smile on his face.

Satoru approaches & Suguru looks up. His beautiful purple eyes take in the slumbering figure of his baby & he sighs in relief.

"Give her to me when she's done ok?"

Suguru can't bring himself to protest. He is still recovering from the delivery which was more taxing on him than he had expected. Again if not for the significance of the day, he would have preferred staying at home and resting.

He just hums and turns his head to look at the ceremony unfolding. Though since he's seated he can't see which part they've reached.

"Satoru, what is going on? Have they said their vows?"

His husband turns to look to the front. Even though they are situated to one side of the hall, Satoru's height means he has a clear view.

"Maybe they are over because I can see Shoko holding out a kerchief for Yuuji. Didn't I tell you the kid will start bawling even before the wedding's done."

"Stop teasing poor Yuuji, Satoru. Weren't you a mess as well?"

"At least I didn't cry." At an unimpressed look from his wife, Satoru changes the subject.

"Oh! I can see some drama brewing. "

"What? What are you talking about?"

Satoru's face has a grin which he gets when he knows there's going to be some shit that's gonna blow up.

"Yuuji's uncle has been making eyes at Megumi's dad. "

"Making eyes you say..."

"Yeah, it seems like there will be a brawl as soon as they step out."

"Do you think someone will record it for me? I am sad that I can't see any of it."

Satoru is amused.

"Are you talking about the fight or the wedding Suguru?"

"Mostly the wedding, but the fight, /if/ it happens would be a bonus. I did ask Kento to record but I'm not sure if he'd do it."

"Ha! Nanami would surely do it. Especially now, he's even more amenable to his wife's requests. And you know Haibara likes to capture such moments."

"Yeah, it's cute seeing how careful and attentive Kento is. He always was, but ever since Haibara got pregnant he's become extra diligent, just like you were Satoru."

His husband doesn't give a reply but just keeps his eyes glued to the front.

It was on Suguru's insistence that they decided to have kids. But even though Satoru was never interested & could even be said to be averse to babies, he was with Suguru the entire time. He did nything & everything to relieve Suguru of any pain or discomfort he felt during the pregnancy. Suguru had this irrational worry, of whether Satoru would be able to bond with the babies. But once again he was proven wrong. Even though he wasn't effusive with his love and affection, their babies were his priority and the centre of his attention, always.

He took to them, quietly, without pomp and show. And Suguru feels that the twins are really lucky, to have such a father who loves them so dearly.

He feels his daughter unlatch her tiny mouth and he carefully brings her up to wipe her face and pat her back to burp her.

Satoru leans down then, to pick her up and place her on the free shoulder. But as soon as she is picked up & away from her mother's warmth, her brow furrows & a loud, lusty cry sits on her wobbly lips.

But the danger is averted because as soon the young one's nose gets buried in Satoru's neck, she calms down. Her father's strong, clean scent is enough to allay any fears. The babe nuzzles against the sturdy shoulder & slowly drifts off to sleep, just like her twin.

Witnessing this scene, it's hard for Suguru to not feel overwhelmed. With love and affection for his mate and husband. And Satoru must sense it as well, because he takes hold of Suguru's hand & brings it up to place a tender kiss. His cerulean eyes lock with those violet ones, and his heart feels full. When he feels the babes on his shoulders stir he decides it's time to walk around the courtyard once again. Suguru gives his hand a squeeze before letting go and relaxing into his chair. He doesn't mind missing most of the ceremony, he can watch the videos. And it seems soon they'll have another wedding, if he has to go by the covert glances Yuuta is throwing at a blonde guy standing next to Megumi's older sister.

A smile on his face, Satoru steps out, his hands holding onto the two most precious people in his life.

[mira-s-bookclub]

Beneath a Veil of Shadows Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Note: Woop- Started the series with Sera and Nyktos and have been OBSESSED the last few weeks. Omg. So writing hasn't been my first priority, hope the word count makes up for that <3. Didn't proof read, so I'm sorry, loves.

(Also used help from a lot of websites to create the mediocre 'poem', creds to those who make it themselves D: )

Warnings: Mentions of torture and trauma, some (minimal) blood, a "hard" choice :(

Word Count: 3,8k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

“What could be so important that he would exchange someone so vital to our court, and that only for a mirror?” Cassian spat.

His head had cleared a bit after Nesta had slapped his arm, swearing in his ear that if he couldn’t get it together, he would have to leave so the grown-ups could talk. The throbbing pain in his head shortened his temper, making him lash out more these last minutes than he had done the last year.

“The Ouroboros, Cassian, is not just a mirror,” Rhys scolded from his place by Feyre in the sofa.

No, he knew that. He wasn’t stupid despite what everyone seemed to believe. But what could possibly a King without a Kingdom do with a mirror able to reveal what truly lies beneath one’s skin, to see into one’s true soul? Cassian wasn’t inclined to gaze into the mirror, he wouldn’t want to see what really lied beneath his quick smiles and jokes. The darkness that, somehow, had led him to find another seemingly just as broken as he was. But where Nesta had changed, Cassian seemed to find himself feeling for that darkness at every step of the way, feel it change and evolve the more he concerned.

“The mirror of Beginnings and Endings,” he muttered. “There’s nothing special about that mirror, what would a fraud-king want with such?” He leaned back into the cushions, taking a long sip from his wine glass.

Amren had found our knowledge…lacking about Koschei and his army. She had found it in herself to leave for the library just down two floors. When she didn’t return, Rhys had concluded that she must have found something interesting enough for her to abandon us upstairs. We had all followed after him and Feyre like ducklings, Mor parting from us in the dim hallway just outside the Library doors in favor of wine straight from the cellar, which Cassian silently thanked her for now, his stomach feeling significantly lighter.

The library, which Cassian thought could feel his anxiety of being back here, had indeed held some information Amren found interesting. Which is why they had now chosen to sit on one of the lower levels of the library. Cassian had tried to count the levels he walked down the spiral stairs, but once he counted to eight, he found that it didn’t help his anxiousness a bit.

A priestess walked past the area they had seated, her pace causing the light from the torch to flicker. Her figure casting shadows along the walls. A shiver ran down his back, almost like fingernails. He emptied the glass.

Rhys looked to Feyre at his side, his arm around her, lazily stroking her arm, “Anything noteworthy to add from when you encountered the mirror?”

She sighed, “I really wish there were, but there’s nothing I can remember. I know only that when I looked into it, it… -it showed everything.” Her voice cracked slightly. And Cassian could see Rhys’s arm tightened around her. He knew she had to face herself, quite literally, in that mirror.

Nesta waved a dismissing hand, “Well, it’s nothing you can do anything about,” she traced a hand up Cassian’s thigh, following the seam of his black linen pants. “You are the only person I know who would have faced herself and all her flaws, and still have been in their right mind and keep going,” she looked pointily at Rhys. Mor snorted.

Cassian still couldn’t understand their relationship, the Gods knew he had tried. One second, they seemed like Siblings, understanding and able to do quite literally the impossible for each other. But the next second, they were at each other’s throats. It was as if Rhys remembered who he was talking to, what despair Nesta had forced upon Feyre, and even if it were all past, Rhys couldn’t seem to forgive her. But Cassian couldn’t blame him, if anyone, even deep into depression, caused Nesta the amount of trauma she had? Cassian would have never let it go. He supposed he was hypocritical that way.

He glanced at Mor and then at the bottle by her feet, half empty. She lifted her brows but poured him another glass, to which he thanked her. The stack of books on the low table had increased every time Amren came by. She had asked around the priestesses for scrolls, books, even maps. Cassian had even heard her asking on of the younger priestesses if some of her peers had written anything for the High priestess concerning The Old Gods and where they might have come from.

Hearing the familiar shuffle of feet, Cassian prepared for another stack of books, high enough to bury Amren behind it, but what he saw caught his breath.

Dusty and out of breath, stood Amren, holding a lone big book in her arms.

Thick rope covered the book, along with an iron lock at its side. The book was a deep brown color, the leather cracked and... - “Good gods, is that...fur?” Nesta shuddered.

Holding her arms tight around the book, almost like it would disappear from her if she didn’t, she laid the book on the table. And the table squeaked at the weight. How Amren had been able to carry that book up so many flights of stairs, and Cassian was sure that book belonged to the bottom levels of the library, was a wonder.

Amrens back cracked as she straightened. “You have many books Rhysand,” she sat down at the only empty chair by the wall, the high window above showering the book with moonlight, “but get your Priestesses to upgrade their accounting. I had to search.”

Rhysand had pushed to the end of the couch, fingers digging into his thighs. “That is not natural.” And Cassian could have sworn the air around them tensed, as if offended.

Nesta made a move towards the book, but Cassian stopped her. Whirling her head at him, he could faintly make out a silver line at the outskirts of her iris. “Don’t, this is not for you,” his voice was quiet. She took a calming breath and turned back to Rhys, who, himself, held a hand to his chest, slowly rubbing. Feyre whispered something in his ear, a question appeared in his eyes, but she nodded. And moved to the book.

Standing above it, she glanced at Amren, who was quiet for a time, then, “Be careful.” Feyre nodded, and took a deep breath, readying herself.

Cassian could definitely feel the change in temperature, his breath coming out like a cold cloud. And the shivers down his back had increased, shaking him in his boots. The chamber was quiet and dark, and looking at the torch on the wall, he confirmed that it had indeed gone out. He wasn’t scared; there was little he was scared of. But this wasn’t natural; this was old, ancient. And you would be a fool not to be afraid.

Holding out a hand, Feyre lit up two fingers, the flames the only source of light. And as she took a hold of one of the ropes containing the book, burning through one; the book shuddered.

A gasp echoed from Nesta and Feyre, the latter who shot backwards.

“Cowards,” Amren murmured, and Rhys, who had his hand on Feyre’s arm, narrowed his gaze to the book.

“There is a reason why it is contained.”

“Obviously,” Amren made a show of dusting herself off, giving them all a good look at the cat-like scratches covering her arms.

Cassian looked back to the seemingly innocent book, leaning forward he could spot the intricate details he had overlooked before. The cuts and dents, almost resembling…people, a story written outside the book. “What type of book is this?” It was a rhetorical question hanging in the air. The quiet in the Library enhancing the howling wind outside, the quiet footsteps skipping in the higher levels of the Library. Cassian couldn’t wait to get out of here, something that shouldn’t be here was here. Something Y/n probably could have picked up on. He had to remind himself of why they did this, what they would risk getting either of them home. A snagging pain lanced through his chest at the reminder. The reminder that there were two missing people, missing friends, that Cassian loved so dearly. He didn’t know what would happen to either of them. What was happening? Perhaps Koschei had seemed it fit for them to be tortured? Or maybe they had been murdered at once, exchanging only their mangled bodies for that gods-damned mirror.

Cassian’s shudder was strong enough for questioning glances to come his way. Mor even went as far as to give him his glass, which he drank deeply from.

“We can get another book; it’s not guaranteed we’ll find anything in this.” Amren’s disapproving stare hit Rhys like a slap.

“If it’s not this book, it’s none.”

“It’s fine Rhys, it just shocked me.” Feyre’s unfaltering bravery was known to all, especially those in this room.

Cassian’s breath stopped as Feyre, yet again, went to burn the ropes. Her hands curling around strands when the rope wouldn’t budge, fire lit her whole hands and the furrow of her brows signaled that this couldn’t be some normal rope you could buy anywhere.

The rope was unyielding.

“I’m going to free you,” Feyre’s soft voice seemed almost heartfelt.

And only then did the rope catch fire.

Burning black until Feyre could nudge away the ruined threads, laying the book back on the table.

Feyre’s breath caught.

“What do you feel?” Rhys was concerned, taking her hand, and standing to put himself between her and the book.

Feyre was quiet. “It’s alive. Not a soul…but a conscience,” she looked at the hideous book. “It doesn’t have needs, but it yearns. Oh, gods, it yearns so much.”

She looked almost frightened as she stood there, staring at the book with facial expression almost like…sorrow. She felt sorrow, either from the book or for the book, Cassian didn’t know.

“A book can’t yearn.” And faster than Cassian could react, Nesta stood up and grabbed hold of the book.

“No.”

Cassian couldn’t stop the word from slipping.

Mor had sunk back into the chair, Amren the only one not reacting, her keen eyes trained on the book.

“Let it down, Nesta,” Rhys growled.

But Nesta, that unwavering, fiery soul Cassian loved so much, waved the book in the air.

“It’s a book, nothing more, nothing less.”

But as the book began vibrating, softly at first, and then enough so that Nesta flinched, dropping the shaking book on the ground.

“That is no book,” Amren said, having left her chair to stand by the only entrance, and exit, of the chamber.

The ropes had dropped from the book, leaving it naked and crazed on the ground. Dust pounded from it and Cassian took a hold of Nesta who had frozen, shocked, and slowly retreated to the bookshelf.

All at once the book stopped, freezing into place. And for a time, no one said anything; nothing happened. The wind outside had calmed entirely.

The world seemed to stop. Seemed to watch.

Cassian held his breath.

Click.

And the lock opened.

Click.

And the world fell into chaos.

White light shot through the chamber, blinding him.

He fell back as a weight toppled over him, crushing against his chest.

“Fuck,” he ground out. The weight, which he guessed was Nesta, fell away from him and he shot up. Clearing his blurry vision revealed utter chaos in the chamber.

Cassian hauled Nesta up and away from the collapsing shelf, the entire ground shelf burned to ash. Holding her close he felt her confusion through their bond.

On the other side of the chamber, Amren had gotten hold of Feyre who had flown back from Rhys who held his back to the book, shielding them. His shirt scratched like a cat.

Another pulse of power from the open book sent books flying. He shielded Nesta, but not before a page nicked his cheek. Fiery silver eyes met his, and when she caressed his cheek, her thumb came back bloodied. A growl slipped her mouth.

“Get that damn book,” Rhys shouted.

Pure power spewed from the book, sending the bookshelf beside Rhys crashing down, separating him from everyone else.

Silver flames burned Nesta’s cuffs, relentless against the harsh wind coming from the book.

“Don’t you dare harm it!” Amren shrieked.

“Fuck, Amren. The cauldron-cursed book is going to harm us!” Cassian shouted back. Shielding his face with his hand, marching sideways with Nesta behind him to her.

“We need that cauldron-cursed book,” she hissed.

“Why?”

“Feyre!” Rhys’s warning fell away to the wind as Feyre moved to the couch, closer to the book.

A blast of power sent Cassian back against the still standing shelf, he didn’t know what to do.

“Feyre!” he roared, flying book obliterated before they could touch him.

Standing before the book, untouched, was Feyre.

A bright light shielded her.

Helion’s powers.

Spellcleaver.

Feyre advanced towards the book, her hair snapping behind her. And once within reach; the book trembled, the vortex crackled like lightning.

And Feyre flung herself over the book, her shining hands grabbed hold of the two sides.

And pushed.

All at once.

Snap.

The world went quiet.

Feyre panted over the book. Her lips moved without making a sound.

Or perhaps she was, Cassian couldn’t hear anything other than ringing.

Shaking his head he saw Rhys running up to her. Cassian turned to Nesta, grabbed hold of her cheeks, and kissed her. Her lips sparked a fire in Cassian that bordered the power of that of the book.

Turning his face from her took effort, he saw Feyre trying to catch her breath with her forehead laying on top of the book. Her lips had stopped moving.

Slowly, Rhys looked up at the three of them.

“A deal,” Rhys said, “Feyre made a deal with the Book of The Lost Ones.”

“So, it’s a children book, made up of fairy-tales and utter nonsense?”

“It’s more than that, Cassian,” Amren took a steadying breath, “along with The Book of breathings, it was Made. Not to be read to fealings and babes; but to carry a long history captured and hidden in an innocent book.”

Amren had clarified that when she had found the book, it had spewed knowledge, or rather small stories and poems, about The First Mother and her creations. She had shared her thoughts about it, what she hoped were true. The book had clarified a lot for her, she had told us, not noticing Rhys’s disapproving stare at her not sharing everything.

“Well, listen closely, Rhysand, and I will share this with you.”

And that she did.

The First Mother had created life, giving souls to beings meant to rule rightly and fairly without the mortal weakness of emotions and feelings. Cassian’s head had turned to Nesta then, reminded of the being she became when using the Dread Trope, unfeeling and uncaring. The First Mother hadn’t considered that the First Beings would develop a restlessness after centuries. The Mother had feared the Beings would begin to feel other types of emotions, the sisterly rage she feared alongside jealousy made her create the first humans.

Cassian had heard similarities from other books and stories shared long ago, but it seemed Amren finally had connected the dots. And when she first started, it was hard to stop everything from spewing out.

The Firsts, as Amren called them, developed curiosity when The First Mother was looking the other way, curiosity over the humans and their ability to act and feel so deeply. Years later, the first fae had been born, more powerful than any fae today, but the babe had a flaw; it felt. Reproduction was the end of the Firsts, and not soon later, the First Mother got bored over her creations. She made life to her only daughter; cleaving her soul in two so they could reign as opposites; The mother and The Dark Mother.

 Amren’s hypothesis was that along with the Book of Breathings, the former fae had created the Book of the Lost Ones, hiding it as something unimportant. The book, as Amren had felt it, would tell the tale of the first trespassers, ‘gods’ they were called by the former fae. Fear of the Three had spread through the land like a plague.

Koschei.   Stryga.   Veles.

Those were their names.

The Bone Carver, or rather Veles, had the Ouroboros last, that was what they were after next. The discussion had gone on for a while. Ending in Amren having to look up Koschei in the Book of the Lost Ones, searching for a way for him to be killed, while another party went to retrieve the mirror.

“Someone must have noticed the strange aura coming from the book and sealed it in spells and…” she sniffed the air, “-skin.”

A shudder went through him as he refocused and gazed at the book on the broken table.

They had sat back down, Rhys having to stand as the couch opposite Cassian’s whole was destroyed, flayed more like. Nesta had reluctantly sat down beside him.

The book must have looked somewhat normal at some point. Perhaps if he peeled the thick layers of leather and fur, he would find a pretty little book beneath all the hideousness. At least, that was what Cassian hoped. Though he wasn’t very inclined to touch the damn book.

The book, as Feyre had said, was harmless as long as its demands were met, which, Cassian thought, was quite dumb yet again. What was it with people demanding and wanting and needing such stupid things from them?

The book had communicated to Feyre about wanting to be reunited with The Dark Mother. Cassian huffed. Reunited with the Mother’s twin. As a babe, Cassian had taken an interest in fairy-tales, told by Rhysand’s mother’s strong immersion when storytelling. He had taken a liking to the stories of The Mother, and how she came to be. She was known as a fierce entity, prayed upon by Everyone, here to distribute strength and help too those she found dear. But Rhys’s mother had told a different story, a story shared by her own mother, telling the story of one soul split in two, destined to bring balance to the new realm made. Cassian couldn’t remember how the realm had been created, or how a soul could be cleaved, but he thought the mother might have remade that event into The Matings. Perhaps it was her way of feeling whole again; splitting two beings, dooming them to never find peace should they be separated. Cassian could almost hear her motherly voice right now.

In twilight’s hush, where shadows playeth,

A soul was born, ‘i fragments greyeth.

Did divide whole, ‘i darkness hath fell,

And lighteth, with longing, beganeth to tell.

The dark half hath felt the stingeth of pain,

And sorrow’s weight, ‘i vain.

It kneweth nay joy, nor love’s sweet refrain,

Only the ache of endless strain.

The lighteth half yearned for wholeness true,

For unity, and all it couldst doth.

It longed to healeth the rift apart,

And mendeth the drops of sorrow that pierced its heart.

But alas, the dark half couldst not seeth,

The beauty that the lighteth couldst beeth.

It saw only shadows, dark and grim,

And hath felt the stingeth of every whim.

The story steadied Cassians heart, his soul. The sad memory of Rhys’s mother a sharp pain in his chest. He didn’t want to think about Rhys's mother and sister right now, not when his two of his most loved people were missing, and he could do fuck-nothing about it.

He could almost see it clearly; being called back to the camp in emergency, finding two golden polished boxes in the biggest of the war tents. Seeing Rhysand, quiet and shaking, scratching at his throat until skin caved way to tendons and blood. He could envision it so clearly. Walking past him, straight to those open boxes on the map-filled table. Dripping blood.

But he didn’t see their silken black hair, their swollen faces nor their peaceful expressions.

He saw Y/n and Azriel.

Faces consorted into pain. Precise cuts and breaks marring their flesh.

Cassian didn’t notice his shaking until Nesta shook him.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

Cassian shook himself out of her grasp, shaking his head. “What if they’re beyond helping? What if they’re already gone?” he yelled the last bit, not at Nesta but at the situation they had at hand.

Nesta curled her arms around him once again, holding him close to her chest as he shook with unfelled tears.

He didn’t care who saw him as he fell apart.

They had to choose.

Either, one of them could be traded, or neither. They had to choose between them.

He faintly felt Feyre’s hand on his shoulder too, everyone going quiet.

Would they choose Y/n? It was what Azriel would have wanted, but it was not guaranteed that she would be sane coming home. And it was a horrible thought. A horrible, horrible thought that Cassian would shame himself for the rest of his long, long life. Azriel was accustomed, as bad as it sounded, to torture. He could retrieve vial information, not only about Koschei and his army, but about the location, the sounds, the people, everything about where they were held captive. Azriel had been trained for this his entire life. An Illyrian male was less thrilling to capture, would get less attention. But a female warrior? Now that was something the cruelest in this world found ecstatic. He couldn’t be sure she would come back the same or come back at all. His throat tightened. At the same time, he knew Azriel would never forgive them should they chose him over her. He would rather burn the world down, and him along with it, than set Y/n in danger. He knew they had fallen out, the tension between them only visible to the outsiders. But he knew the brilliant spark they shared would never go out, no matter what. They were destined for each other.

He lifted his head and shared a look with Rhys over Nesta’s shoulder. He knew the answer to his question, deep down they all knew.

Choosing Azriel would give them a higher chance of retrieving both, but at the cost of Y/n.

Choosing Y/n would mean setting Azriel at risk, who had gone through such events before and had a higher tolerance physically than Y/n, though he knew nightmares still haunted him at night.

Cassian knew he was often perceived as dumber than his companions; but he wasn’t the General Commander of the Night Court’s armies for nothing.

Stealing himself, Cassian reached out to Rhys through Deamati, delaying the only plan of which he could think.

“We find the mirror, duplicate it and exchange for Y/n.”

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

To be added to the Taglists, comment:

All ACOTAR - 🌹

All Azriel - 🥀

All TOG - 🌼

Taglist: @calisnewworld

[urfavnegronerd]

ex-factor- lauryn hill

sum slight

trope: right person, wrong timing 

pairings: hobie brown x black coded fem reader  

warnings: swearing, arguing, angst to fluff to angst again, kinda a happy ending, use of the n-word like once i think  

w/c: 1.2k ish

song lyrics are italicized  

no matter how i think we grow  

“Come on, love,” 

Stubbornly, you huff and turn away from him, the duvet wrinkling underneath you. 

“D’you want me to leave?” 

“Good god, Bee, take a hint. I’m your girlfriend,” 

“Yes, I know,” 

“So act like it,” 

“What do you want me to do?” 

“I want you to be here! Here! Not out all the time doing God knows what or who!” 

“What do you mean, ‘God knows what or who’? Do you not trust me?” 

“Jesus on a fucking boat, I don’t know where you go when you fucking shoot up out of bed and leave,” 

“That don’t mean I’m doing a ‘who’,” 

“Fine, you’re right, is that what you want to hear? Then there you have it, you’re right!” 

“I can’t just drop working with this foundation, love, I chose this fight!” 

“But why can’t you fight the good fight and be here with me too?” 

“God, we’ve had this conversation before, I can’t just dictate when riots break,” 

“I–” 

“I’m gonna go–” 

“Hobie–” 

“I’ll be back in an hour.” 

His voice was just as firm and final as the door behind him. Exasperated, tired, angry, and confused, you flop backward. This fight had broken out about a thousand times already, only this time he’d had to leave during a date. The date. The one the two of you had been planning for months, working out the details, ironing out the kinks, making sure that there wouldn’t be any sort of interruption; but lo and behold there was. Just as the two of you had gotten settled, both of your glasses just beginning to be filled when he had to leave. It was always humiliating, it wasn’t as if you’d been stood up, everyone could very well see how he laced his arm over your hips leading you forward. It was humiliating to think about how much work, time, and thought the two of you had put into this date, and feeling it go to waste. It was a mixture of pure and unbridled white-hot rage mixed with sadness, the now-familiar feeling of dejection, as well as guilt. Maybe you were being unreasonable. He was out doing good things for people, people like you, who had escaped bad situations, in need of safety, of asylum. Wasn’t he doing it all for you? With you in mind? That could have been true but, what about you? What about the promise of falling asleep in safe and strong arms, and staying asleep? What about being his girlfriend? 

Resisting the all-consuming urge to pour yourself a drink, spark up a blunt, anything to ease the anger boiling in your veins, you sit down on the edge of your shared bed, trying to ground yourself. Breathing deeply, running your nails along the exposed portion of your legs, you rest your head in your hands. Forgoing the urge to impulse to let the mattress swallow your being, you unzip the back of your dress changing into one of Hobie’s old shirts and a pair of shorts from your high school days. Trying to think of what Cat, your therapist, would say, you pull out a coloring book and colored pencils. Lighting a candle and putting vinyl on the player, the tension in the small shared apartment begins to fade. Alongside it, the tension in your neck. As you color in the endless swirls of calm, and breathe in the gentle scent of linen the air begins to lighten. 

The next hour passes calmly as Hobie quietly turns the knob to your apartment. 

“Thought you’d be asleep by now,” he leans against the door frame, observing you at the desk. 

“Couldn’t,” 

“Fair enough,” 

A silence. Stifling, but it speaks for itself. 

“D’you want help with taking your hair down before bed? We can talk then?” 

Seated on the floor, leaning over the coffee table, you look up at him behind thick frames. 

“Can we talk now, hair later?” 

“Okay,” 

“It feels like I’m not one of your priorities anymore, and I’m not saying I should be your number one priority, but I want to feel like I’m in the top five, you know?” 

“I– yeah, love, I get it,” 

“So?” 

“I’m sorry,” 

“I’m sorry, too Bee,” 

Crossing the threshold of your apartment, he takes the near-gone tub of coconut oil from the counter, he sits behind you and you comply to the wordless cue, relaxing between his knees. Rubbing a dab of oil between his hands, he coaxes the elastic bands out from the grip of your thick raven curls.

you always seem to let me know  

“Please look at me” 

“I’m looking at you,” 

“In the eyes,” 

Angrily, with hot tears streaking your mahogany brown skin, you look at him, nostrils flaring. 

“Look, I know how bad I fucked up,” 

He laughs, “You honestly really did,” 

“But it’s not like this is one-sided Bee,” 

“Oh, enlighten me, how is this reciprocal?” 

“You haven’t been home in weeks, Bee,” 

“What does that have to do with me coming home to see you with another bloke on our couch?” 

“For the millionth time, nothing happened,” 

“So you’re just cooking for niggas and inviting them into our apartment,” 

“Do you understand how sad it is to be alone when there's supposed to be another person living there? I invited an old friend because I couldn’t stand the silence of being alone longer,” 

“So this is my fault,” 

“No, Hobie– well, it is partially, but we both made choices that led us here,” 

“What, is that supposed to make this better?” 

“ ‘m not saying that either,” 

 “Why does it always feel like another fight with you recently,” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Every time I come home it feels like another argument,” 

“Maybe there wouldn’t be arguments if you communicated with me, loved me how I want to be loved–” 

“So I’m not loving you right?” 

“Can you not twist my words for a moment?” 

“Oh the floor is yours!”  

“I like words of affirmation, reassurance, and affection, it’s not hard to comply with that, Bee. All I’m asking for is–” 

“The impossible, do you not see how this project is all for you? How everything I’m building is for you?” 

“That’s not fair,” 

“How? How is any of this not fair?” 

“Because I’ve been trying, trying to give you space so you can shine and help all those people, but I just want you here,” 

“I can’t always be here,” 

“Hobie! I want to be treated like your girlfriend,” 

“So I’m not treating you like my girlfriend?” 

“It doesn’t really feel like it recently, no!” 

Running his hands over his face he sighs and leans his head back, his eyes look tired and upset. 

“I’m tired of this.” 

The finality of his statement takes you aback. 

“What?” 

“I’m tired of fighting,” 

“Me too,” 

“But it feels like that’s all we do,” 

“We can try to work through it,” 

“I think we’re far beyond that point,” 

“Bee–” 

“I think, I think we should end it here.” 

And then he’s opening the door, and venturing out into the night. And you are left alone.

it aint workin  

“Hey, love,” a familiar voice whispers through the receiver. 

“Bee?”

as painful as this thing has been, i just cant be with no one else

taglist: @n1cole-ghost @lunarfleur @nagi3seastorm @hearts4hobie @milesmolasses @mayeluvsu @kombuuuu @hummusxx

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

[reinen5astro]

============================

Howdy! Hope your having a fantastic day today I was wondering if you have any ideas about these placement Aphrodite at 18* degrees in Capricorn in the 8th house

- inconjunct Jupiter

- semi - sextile Pluto

============================

Sun conjunct Pluto

It’s hard me to understand when Pluto is at 17* degrees and the sun is 15* degrees

============================

Do you know what this means?

============================

Thank you for your time I really appreciate the response from you this definitely helps me understand myself better as well as the deeper understanding of astrology itself!

============================

Omg, I love using astrology to understand myself as well!! No problem <3.

The asteroid Aphrodite signifies your beauty, fertility, love and passion, similar to the Goddess Aphrodite.

______________________________________________________________

Asteroid Aphrodite in Capricorn [18*]: Your beauty shines with your properness, and maturity. You look mature, refined, and have an elegant energy about you. You have an abundance of masculine but feminine energy, and you may love a more old-money, fresh linen style. Your knees, bones, skin, and teeth may be the most prominent and beautiful features about you [Capricorn rules the bones]. When it comes to love, or your "type" you have incredibly high standards. You mainly stay away from people who haven't earned prestige, or who don't value education. Loyalty and commitment is your utmost priority; however for people to have your loyalty, they MUST earn it. The 18th degree indicates that you have the qualities of a Virgo [the maiden] as well. However, the 18th degree indicates various troubles, health issues, and troubles; in this case, in your beauty, love, passion, or fertility [there's various remedies for this however, I linked something below]

Asteroid Aphrodite in 8th house: You naturally radiate a sexy, and transformative aura in addition to your capricorny and virgo aura. However, this indicates you may experience intense and transformative relationships that awaken your inner beauty and desires. Be cautious of manipulation or unhealthy attachments in your intimate relationships.

Aspects:

Aphrodite inconjunct Jupiter: There is a lack of harmony between your sensuality, love, passion, and beauty and your expansion, knowledge, spirituality and morality; creating tension and imbalance. Who you fall in love with, or develop passion towards may be immoral people, who inherently go against your values, but you simply can't resist. You may have been forced to hold back your passion and love, because of your spiritual community, or your faith. You may have been shamed for your sensuality. It's hard for you to improve or expand in your areas of Aphrodite. You may think that knowledge and beauty can't coexist as well. [I usually ignore inconjuncts, so it was really really interesting for me to learn about them, and interpret this aspect]

Aphrodite semi-sextile Pluto: There is integration and creation, but a subtle friction between your sensuality, love, passion, and beauty and your decision making, renewal, rebirth, spiritual growth, and endings/new beginnings. Your passion and love experiences can create endings and rebirths that acts as a huge transformative force for you. But, at the same time, there is a bit of friction, it may take a bit of effort for Pluto to get you to come to your senses and change in your love, passion, and sensuality.

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

SUN CONJUNCT PLUTO

Sun conjunct Pluto: When Pluto is conjunct with the sun in your natal chart, this aspect gives you a strong sense of personal destiny, as well as an empowered capacity to bring it about through the force of your personality and personal drive. You have an ability to penetrate to the depths of whatever fascinates you—becoming consumed with learning the skills needed for the vocational path you feel called to. You will also be drawn toward forming intense relationships with powerful figures, whether in your personal life or through historical study, who represent whatever role or field of knowledge you are interested in. You have an ability to manipulate situations toward your own advantage. You need to be careful of not becoming overly controlling and manipulative in your personal relationships. One of your parents, in particular a father figure, may have played a larger than life role in your development leading to a need for you to transform your relationship to their influence as you age. As part of your growth and development, you will enter periods of intense catharsis and upheaval that lead to important regeneration and self-realization.

As for the degrees, the degrees affect your expression of the sign itself. Degrees only affect the aspect itself; the reason they're conjunct is because your Sun and Pluto are within 10 degrees of each other.

[shivunin]

Hello there, Mo! What about going to sleep as the big spoon and waking up as the little spoon for Elowen? :3 (because I just miss the last chapter of Your Fate for Mine and I need something more)

Hey, Arja!! Thank you for the prompt, as always c:

Ooh, I hope you enjoyed <3 I am still proud of that fic! In honor of you finishing it, here is a scene set directly after the epilogue:

(Cullen/Elowen Lavellan | 615 words | No warnings)

Daybreak

Cullen knew it hadn’t been an easy night. He’d fallen asleep at a reasonable hour, which was a pleasant change, but he’d woken at least twice from nightmares. That was likely due to sleeping in a new place, he supposed; odd as it might seem, he’d gotten used to the drafts through the holes in his old room. He could still see the sky through the large glass doors here, so he hadn’t necessarily felt trapped, per se, but…

But it was still a change and he would still need to get used to it. 

After he’d woken the second time, he was certain he’d turned to Lavellan in the night and wrapped her in his arms. She’d half-woken when his thrashing had tugged the blankets from her, but her voice had been thick with sleep when she’d asked him what he needed. How could he wake her further by talking about it? Cullen had answered with his hands instead, turning her gently until she’d nestled into the curve of his body and gone soft and boneless with sleep. 

And—it had helped to hold Elowen. Truly, it had; it was a reminder that, no matter how he’d lost her before or worried about losing her in the future, she was here in his arms right now. They were home and together, as they ought to be, and both of them were safe. 

So: Cullen recalled very clearly falling asleep holding her thus, but they were in an entirely different position when he opened his eyes now. Sometime in the night, they must have turned. Now, one of her legs was hiked over his hip, the soft curves of her chest were pressed flush against his back, and her arm was firm over his waist. 

Cullen froze as he realized this, not certain what he ought to do. From the angle of the sun just over the peaks of the mountains, it was past time to wake and attend combat practice. He had dozens of missives to manage after their long absence. Doubtless, there were towers of documents he needed to sign. Before all that, he would still need to dress and take all eight flights of stairs down to the keep proper. He ought to be extricating himself and beginning that process. He ought to be moving. But…

But how could he want to leave her arms now? And—even if he did, how could he possibly manage it without waking her again?

As if in answer to this question, she stirred behind him, pressing her naked body against his more firmly and sighing with enough force to stir the hair at the base of his neck. 

Ah—Maker forgive him, but he couldn’t summon the will to walk away from this. Not when they’d been so deprived of each other for so long. Not when he felt so safe, so comfortably languorous in her arms. 

Perhaps the rest of the Inquisition could forgive them for one late morning. 

Cullen huffed at the thought and would have shaken his head if he didn’t fear the motion would wake her. Even three months ago, he would have pried himself loose anyway and suffered through the morning thinking of what he’d left behind. He could not fault himself for having different priorities now. 

No; he would not wake her, nor would he be leaving for the moment. 

Cullen settled back into the pillows again, closing his eyes to savor the soft scent that still clung to the linen. He did not move any more than that, save to lift his hand and tangle his fingers with hers as dawn began to crest over the Frostbacks beyond.

[therealnightcity]

motion, stature and road for Hiro 🖤 texture, hair for Ares 🖤 change, night for Avi 🖤 gorgeous babiiees 🖤

Character asks for @dreamskug 🥰🥺

Hiro:

Motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Hiro moves easily, a confidence that comes from both combat and dancing at least several times a week. It's more natural than how Avi moves, similarly skilled but less uncanny. A lot of his hobbies are physical, and he moves like someone who's sure of his body and what it can handle--he focuses on hand-to-hand combat and used to spar with Viktor and Jackie. Hiro prefers clothing that doesn't hinder his movement, either closely fitting and clinging like a second skin, or loose enough to not pose a hazard--nothing that would easily get tangled up in his legs, or impractical heels unless he's certain he's not working. It's also why he wears his hair up in a bun--it's down past his shoulders otherwise. Hiro is capable of being graceful, particularly if he's trying.

Stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

Hiro is short but muscular, and is a bit vain regarding his appearance. He puts a lot of time into taking care of it, and that's reflected in how he presents himself. He's extensively tattooed, and has a body-suit that covers from his neck to his ankles, and a couple body piercings, in addition to the ones on his face. He's 5'4/162cm, and has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about it, especially considering his siblings are 6'0 and 6'3 respectively. He likes sneakers or boots with a bit of extra height, and is quick to say he's 5'4 and a half (he's absolutely not). Despite being a little insecure about his height, and that people don't always take him seriously, he's not afraid to show off a little. It doesn't matter how impractical the crop top and leather jacket are if all his cyberware is internal anyway.

Road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?

Prior to 2077 Hiro had never traveled outside Night City--he didn't have the financial stability, nor the personal freedom to do so, and it wasn't something that was a priority of his. Most of his traveling gear is cobbled together by things he's salvaged or been gifted (or borrowed stolen.) It depends on the sort of traveling he's doing too--his roadtrip look differs greatly from his Badlands gear. For a road trip he'd wear something similar to his every day looks, but more comfortable, and casual. If he was on his bike, it would be a helmet and road leathers, and boots with a bit of a heel. For the badlands, he was completely unprepared his first time, and finally got more suitable clothing at the urging of his half-sister, and her promise that she wasn't going to save him from his own stubborness. The nomad vest he found is an impratical, deep red, instead of a more reasonable tan or green, but he likes the color, and she knows better than to argue with him.

Ares:

Texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

Ares isn't terribly picky about textures. Rough, or soft, doesn't really bother her either way. She's more concerned with durability, and anything extremely delicate probably won't hold up well to the wear she's going to put it through. She'd rather buy something that lasts forever, than have to constantly be getting new things, particularly when the drive into the city isn't the most convenient one. She's fond of sturdy leather, or denim, or cotton that breathes well. She doesn't like stuff that sticks to her skin in the heat, so poly/nylon is usually out. Linen is a favorite of hers, and she has several button down shirts that she uses when she needs something a little nicer.

Hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

Ares has a lot of hair, even with it partially shaved, so she's always looking for ways to keep it out of her face. It's deep black, and thick and a little unruly, so she usually wears it up in a bandana, or in a ponytail or braid. Sometimes she'll wear it in a messy bun when it's too damn hot, and she's tired of it sticking to her neck. She's considered cutting it shorter but she's almost always worn it long, and she's worried she'd not like it and have to spend forever growing it back out. Her bandanas have a lot of meaning. She collects ones with cool patterns and has one that her parents gave her that she keeps tied to her bag or holding her hair up--a little reminder of them, even when they're far away.

Avi:

Change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Avi's appearance has changed the most out of his three siblings. He was virtually indistinguishable from any other street kid on the docks, until he got involved with Arasaka. He started wearing his hair shorter, and began gradually acquiring more cyberware. As he climbed the career ladder at Arasaka he built up his income, and taste took a turn for the more expensive, tactical gear and well-cut suits. The biggest shift for him was his eyes, when he switched his 'ganic ones for cybernetics. They have a glowing ring, similar to Hanako Arasaka's eyes, the ghostly blue echoing another Arasaka assassin. It does nothing to make the two dislike each other less. He leans away from tattoos, more for reasons of personal taste than any real dislike. They're fine on other people, but not for him, and don't align with his personal aesthetic.

Night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

Avi prefers luxury, even in clothing that isn't worn outside and his pajamas are no exception. He wears sleek, slik pajama bottoms and has a dressing robe that he tosses on when he gets out of bed. As nice as it is, he'd prefer not to answer the door in sleepwear, preferring the illusion that he's always on alert, rather than lounging in silk pjs. Occasionally he'll forgo them entirely, but this is rare unless he's with his partner, and prefers to feel like he wouldn't be caught unaware.

[sheliesshattered]

Top third or so of the pleated panel is sewn down!

I tried out a couple of different methods for handsewing this to the shoulder and sleeve, but after a few inches of each, the 'stitch in the ditch' method was the clear winner. It's basically invisible, and lets the piping stand up as it ought to. I'm doing a stitch about every 1/8th inch, and keeping most of the distance on the top so that the stitches inside the sleeve are as small as possible, and won't get caught on things. I'm getting faster with the technique, so I'm hoping to buzz through the rest of this sleeve and the other one over the next few days.

But I'm also going to be interspersing this sewing with starting on my vest scratch build. I was able to find the pattern I made for my vest for The Moment way back in 2014 (it was exactly where I thought it would be, hurrah for keeping old patterns), and I spent some time staring at the existing vest in the mirror and pin-marking the changes I would like to make.

There are enough small changes that I'm going to just draft a new version of the pattern using the old one as a guide. But there are only the four main body pieces that really need re-drafting, and once it's something I can try on then I'll figure out how I'm doing the new collar (so it doesn't look so much like a motorcycle jacket), and I might just drape the new collar on me while I'm wearing the in-progress vest.

Over the weekend I also went though my stash looking for fabrics that have enough yardage (or at least big pieces) to cut out the body of the vest, and after comparing all those to the pieces I know I'll definitely be wearing as part of my Batuu Bound -- gray hooded wrap, brown leather belt/bag/gloves, and black leather-look leggings -- with Jack's help I decided on some lovely dark navy linen that I've had in my stash for years, left over from a dress project. It's on the heavier side for linens, but not quite as stiff as the canvas the Moment vest is made from, but I think it'll work nicely.

I'm going to stick with the basic lines from the Moment vest, including the diagonal cross-body closure. After noodling on this for a week or more, what I've decided to do is a shorter zipper that ends around underbust level or just slightly higher, and then a flap over that with either no visible closures, or some cool looking Star Wars-y buckles or something. I have a few ideas for that, but I won't make any decisions until I can try the new vest on. The separating zipper and the thread for this project have been ordered and should arrive before I'm anywhere close to needing them. Pics on this whole vest project as it develops.

Beyond that, I need to add a tiny dot of glue to a pendant that I made (in the upper left of the photo -- it looks a bit like Jyn Erso's kyber crystal necklace, but smaller with more of a blue tone to it) to make sure the wrappings stay attached. I still want to figure out something to cover the lacings of my big Doc Martens, either wraps over the whole boot or a suede panel that snaps onto the lacings or something of that sort. I've started to gather other accessories, and there are a couple of things I want to order (in particular my Captain's License, once I can settle on a name and spelling for my OC, lol).

I have a long sleeve shirt to go under the vest that works with my color pallet, and an idea (and fabric) for another shirt I could sew, but the weather has been so all over the place lately (80 degrees and sunny! no wait, 60 degrees and rainy!) that I don't want to put too much effort into the shirt until I've got a better idea of the weather we'll have 4 weeks from now. Finishing Jack's jacket and making my vest are definitely the priorities.

4 weeks to go! Hokay, I've got a pile of linen scraps to go iron.

[cosyquiet]

Over the last few years I’ve been so drawn to the Wheel of the Year, and I’ve been trying to figure out more ways to bring the concept into my home, so that I can really feel its turning and the changing of the seasons. While I was planning to spruce up my bedroom the other day I came up with the idea of having bed linens that felt, to me, like the each section of the Wheel.

I spent far too long looking up the linens that I wanted (I’m super picky about bed sheets, it’s ridiculous), but I’ve finally put together my wishlist!

Starting from the top we have:

Imbolc: Black, cosy cable-knit fleece. It’s dark, but the light is returning.

Ostara:  Country patchwork, classic and cute. Spring has sprung.

Beltane: White velvet shapes, that I can pair with colourful additions.

Litha: It’s getting warmer, a simple Jacquard Geometric set is all we’ll need.

Lughnasadh: A floral patchwork duvet for the first of the harvest festivals.

Mabon: Luna Wood in Fern Green; perfect for one of my favourite sabbats.

Samhain: Long pile fleece in rust orange, to spend dark evenings in warmth.

Yule: An emerald chevron fleece to curl up in with hot chocolate (or mulled wine!)

It’ll take me a few months to be able to afford all of them, but having a cosy bed is a huge priority for me this year and I can’t wait to get started on this cosy project!

[fashion-tips-and-style]

Urban Shirts for Every Season: Finding the Right Fit for Warm and Cold Weather

When it comes to building a versatile wardrobe, urban shirts for men are a must-have. These shirts are not just a staple in modern fashion but also serve as a key piece in adapting to varying weather conditions. Whether you’re enjoying the heat of summer or braving the chill of winter, urban shirts can keep you looking good while feeling comfortable. The trick lies in choosing the right fabric, fit, and style to match the season. Let’s explore how to find the perfect urban shirt for both warm and cold weather.

The All-Season Appeal of Urban Shirts To be able to create a flexible wardrobe, a man must have urban shirts. These are not just staple pieces of modern clothing but also something which can play the role of a change piece in order to adapt to the changing climate. When it is warm, it will make you look good. When it is cold, you'll feel warm under your urban shirts. This can be done by selecting the right fabric, fit, and style that is relevant for the season.

Urban Shirts for Warm Weather Warm weather demands a shirt that’s light, breathable, and comfortable for all-day wear. Whether you’re heading to a rooftop party or running errands around town, the fabric and fit of your shop for urban shirts online at beyoung can make a significant difference.

Fabric Matters: Lightweight and Breathable For warm climates or in summer, light and breezy clothes are a priority. You should be grateful for cotton and linen during such weather as they allow proper air flow and moisture to be absorbed, keeping you cool. Cotton: Soft, comfortable, breathable, cotton is the best for warm-weather clothing. A classic city-style cotton shirt can be worn for most any occasion-casual lunch, day out at the park, that sort of thing. Linen: It is also suitable if one is looking for something which is even more breathable, linen is perfect. Fabric that has been known as a natural air conditioner or cooler is this one. Therefore, linen urban shirts are highly relaxed and airy, perfect for laid-back summer days.

The Right Fit: Loose and Relaxed In warmer temperatures, you will need a loose fit that allows you to move and not stick to your body. Here, the fit of your urban shirts should be more relaxed, allowing air but still maintaining a structured appearance. Opt for shirts with a slightly looser fit around the body and sleeves. Slim Fit: Slim fits are both sexy and trendy, but maybe for a more relaxed fit without feeling too constricted. Regular Fit: This is a standard cut, which is always comfortable yet straightforwardly daring to provide a snappy silhouette.

Style Choices: Short Sleeves or Roll-Up Sleeves Short-sleeved urban long sleeve shirts are a great option for summer. They provide more ventilation and allow your skin to breathe. Alternatively, long-sleeve shirts with rolled-up sleeves can be a practical yet stylish choice, giving you flexibility to adapt as temperatures fluctuate. Short-Sleeve Urban Shirts: Perfect for casual occasions, short-sleeve shirts are the go-to option for the hottest days. Roll-Up Sleeves: If you prefer a long-sleeve shirt, look for one with sleeves that can be rolled up easily. It’s a versatile style that can transition from the office to the streets with ease.

Patterns and Colors: Bright and Light Warm weather is a great time to experiment with colors and patterns. Light colors like pastels or white are great for reflecting the sun’s rays, helping you stay cool. Similarly, tropical or floral patterns give off a relaxed, vacation-ready vibe. Light Colors: White, beige, and light blues are perfect for keeping you cool and stylish during warm days. Fun Patterns: Go for bold prints like stripes, checks, or florals to inject personality into your men's urban shirts. Urban Shirts for Cold Weather As temperatures drop, the focus shifts from breathability to warmth. Cold weather requires urban shirts that can be layered or worn on their own with extra warmth. With the right fabric, layering strategy, and fit, an urban shirt can carry you through winter in style.

Fabric Matters: Heavier and Insulating In colder weather, you require thicker fabrics that can hold warmth. Wool and thicker cotton blends are perfect choices for colder climates. These fabrics provide insulation while still offering the style and comfort that urban shirt brands are known for. Flannel: A flannel urban shirt is an excellent option for the cooler months. The fabric is soft, warm, and provides just the right amount of insulation without feeling bulky. Oxford Cotton: Oxford cotton is heavier than regular cotton. It's a great option for layering because it's tough, thick enough for the winter, and pairs great with jackets and coats.

The Right Fit: Layerable and Structured For colder months, urban shirts should be slightly more structured, as they’ll often serve as a base layer. Choose shirts that fit comfortably without being too tight, leaving room for layering with sweaters, jackets, or coats. Regular or Boxy Fit: These fits are ideal for layering. They provide enough room to wear thermal layers or sweaters underneath without sacrificing style. Tailored Fit: If you prefer a more polished look, a tailored fit that’s not too snug allows for layering while still offering a sharp appearance.

Style Choices: Long Sleeves and Layering Long-sleeve shirts are essential for cold weather. During the same months, layering is also very important and urban shirts can be great as a base layer of the outfit. Pair your shirt with a lightweight sweater or jacket for extra warmth. Long-Sleeve Urban Shirts: For cold weather, wear long-sleeve shirts made of heavier material. Flannel or thick cotton can be worn on its own or layered over. Layering Pieces: Street wear shirts are great to layer underneath knitwear, denim jackets or leather jackets. You now get an amazingly stylish yet functional layering that will keep you warm throughout the season.

Patterns and Colors: Darker and Earthy Tones Winter is all about darker and deeper shades. Charcoal, navy, earthy tones like olive and burgundy are perfect for the colder weather. Not only do these colors match the season, but they also maintain a sophisticated urban look. Deep Tones: For winter, go for dark colors like black, navy, and deep green for a winter-ready style. Subtle Patterns: Flannel shirts with subtle patterns like plaid or checkered are perfect for colder weather, adding a touch of warmth to your look. Conclusion Urban shirts online provide an excellent opportunity to explore a wide variety of styles and fabrics that can be adapted for every season. Whether you’re keeping it casual on a sunny day or layering up for a chilly evening, urban collar shirts and other variations like urban long sleeve shirts are your go-to pieces for every season. By choosing the right men's urban shirts for the season, you will be comfortable and stylish, and you are prepared for whatever the weather throws your way. So whether you are heading off to work, running some errands, or hanging out with friends, your urban shirt brands have you covered.

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

Silence | Part 2

Plot: it’s been about a week and things have changed quickly, as they do in times of chaos. But the promise you made to yourself, in regards to Private Holland, has not wavered.

Pairing: WWII Army!Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: mention of war

Masterlist and Requests/Prompts

* * * * *

Things had been chaotic around the infirmary for the past couple of weeks. Patients were coming and going quickly, and air raids were becoming more frequent.

Peterson had healed up and left a few days prior. You missed seeing him all day, but we’re happy that he was healed and doing better. But it was stressful for you knowing that the youngster was back out in the field. He was only 19, too young to be involved in all this chaos. You tried not to worry about him and took care of your other patients, or at least the few that remained in the infirmary.

Private Holland was one of your main priorities right now. It had become apparent in the past few weeks that his journey to healing was going to take much longer than initially expected. One of his bullet wounds had become infected and you and the other nurses had been treating it with antibiotics. It was getting better. His leg was still broken but he was becoming restless. You had found an old pair of crutches and escorted him on frequent ‘walks’ around the military base to help him remain sane and active. At night you’d play cards and he’d teach you about ancient history.

While you were busy hanging linens out to dry, one of the other nurses came over.

“{y/n}, the private would like to go out for some fresh air” she said smiling softly “I can finish hanging the linens to dry if you’d like”

“Thank you Harriet, I appreciate it” you said “these are the last of the linens for the day, everything else is dry and ready to be put away”

“No worries, I’ll tend to it”

You nodded and smiled, heading back to the infirmary to accompany Private Holland.

“Good afternoon Private. I heard you’d like to take a walk” you said smiling.

“I could use some fresh air” he said smiling.

“Of course” you said helping him sit up, then fetching his crutches. You put his boot on his unbroken foot before helping him stand up.

He stood up slowly, making sure he was steady on his crutches before following you towards the door, which you held open for him as he hobbled out the door.

The two of you proceeded to walk around the base, in places that weren’t too bustling so you didn’t get in the way.

“Any news from the general?” He asked

“In terms of your transfer?” You asked

He nodded.

“Unfortunately with all the air raids here and incoming raids on London, it’s not safe to have you transferred to any of the major military hospitals at this time” you said, hating to give bad news “I’m sorry Private”

“It’s alright, I’m in good hands here” he said smiling “probably safer too” he said nodding at a few uniformed men who walked past.

You laughed softly “yes, that’s the only good thing about cooped up here”

“You’re lovely, you know that? I-I mean you’ve been lovely…you’ve been kind” he said becoming a bit flustered.

“I try” you said blushing a bit. It was hard to not find him charming with his brown doe eyes and thick English accent. You were trying not to let feelings bubble to the surface and thankfully you’d done a good job of that, even in situations like this where he too was trying not get too attached.

You weren’t oblivious to the way he looked at you, he wasn’t very discreet, though you knew he tried to be. You wondered if it was the fact that he’d served in this war for so long that it had been a long while since he’d seen a woman, let alone spent time with one or felt the touch of one. You also wondered if it was just because you took care of him or showed him kindness, something many in the military didn’t often see in times of crisis.

You tried your best not to trivialize it, but you knew he didn’t look at the other nurses, or interact with them, the same way he did with you. It was both flattering and frustrating. Flattering because he was such a gentleman. Frustrating because you weren’t the type of woman to fall for a handsome face or even need a man in your life romantically.

“You never told me where you were from” he said smiling.

“New York” you said “I grew up upstate, then moved to the city to study nursing. I moved back home a few months before the war started”

He nodded “I’ve never been to the states. What is your hometown like?”

“It’s beautiful. Nestled next to the forest, with a view of the Adirondack mountains in the distance” you said smiling “my family and I used to go camping in the mountains when I was young. We’d climb trees and roast food on a bonfire, go swimming in the lake”

“That sounds fun” he said smiling

“Where did you grow up?” You asked

“London, but my family and friends used to travel to the coast often. I grew up with the ocean, visiting lighthouses and castles, that’s where I fell in love with History” he said smiling. “Did you always want to be a nurse?”

“Mostly. I had an interest in science and knew I wanted to help people, nursing was the obvious choice” you said smiling. “I’d ask about your military service, but I assume that wasn’t your choice” you mentioned.

He shook his head “not really. I was working at a university, shadowing one of the history professors, when I got the call that I had been drafted.” He said. “It wasn’t ideal, but I knew I had to help” he said as you made your way back to infirmary where you once again held the door open for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that” you said as you helped him back to his bed.

“I suppose everything happens for a reason” he said. “Had I not been drafted I would have never gotten injured and I wouldn’t have met you” he said looking up at you as you fixed the linens on his bed.

You blushed “I suppose” you said as his hand caught yours, gently squeezing it. “I, um, I need to go tend to a few things. Let me know if you need anything” you said smiling softly, trying not to seem like you were flustered, even if you were.

“Of course, thank you {y/n}” he said smiling as he let your hand go.

You swiftly walked to the back room to catch your breath and your composer. You hadn’t realized that one of the other nurses was putting away supplies that had just arrived, and had heard and seen the entire conversation you had with Private Holland upon returning.

“Did you enjoy your daily stroll with the private?” She asked giggling.

“Don’t say another word” you said said bumping her gently and playfully “I’m fine and unbothered by his charm” you said, obviously lying but trying to be convincing.

“Alright then, I’ll take your word for it” she said as she placed bandages and antiseptic on the shelf.

“Good.” You said “I’m going to go check in with the other ladies”

She nodded as you proceeded to go check in on the other nurses who were tending to their duties. Aside from your feelings tearing at the seams, everything else seemed fine.

• • • • •

Later that evening, after dinner had been served and all nighttime checks had been finished, you had sat down to play a game of checkers with Private Holland while the other nurses were playing a game of cards with a few other patients, keeping a close eye on as usual.

“You’ve been quiet tonight, is something wrong?” He asked as you decided your next move in your game.

“I’m alright” you said “why you even ask that?” you said smiling softly.

“You’ve just been acting a bit different since our walk earlier” he said. “If I said something to make you uncomfortable I’m truly sorry”

You looked up at him “no, no I’m just…” you sighed softly. “You think I’m lovely and you’re glad you met me” you said “it caught me off guard”

“But you are lovely…in both personality and appearance” he said “and I’m glad I met you. Has no man ever told you that before?” He asked chuckling a bit “cause I wouldn’t believe you if you said men weren’t interested” he said.

“No, they have. I’ve just never….felt anything back.” You admitted. “But, with you I felt something, not sure what, but I felt it”

“And?”

“And I shouldn’t feel that way. I’m a nurse, you’re my patient. I’m here to take care of you and make sure you’re doing well, not fall in love with you”

“{y/n}, we’re human, we’re social creatures. You can’t help where your head, or your heart, drifts to” he said “do you think Cleopatra intended on falling in love with Julius Caesar or Mark Antony?” He asked.

You bit your lip “how does that apply to me?” You asked

“Because Cleopatra could have lost her throne, but you…you have nothing to lose” he said.

You thought about that for a minute. Instead of giving him the answer you knew he obviously wanted to hear, you gave him the sarcastic version, which wasn’t a complete lie.

“Well I could lose my dignity, my reputation as an independent young woman” you said giggling softly.

He chuckled “we wouldn’t want that”

You laughed “no, we wouldn’t”

You continued playing your game together, until it got late. You knew you had to be up early the next morning. Most of the patients had already gone to sleep, and the other nurses had retired to their barracks. You looked at Private Holland as you put away the checker board.

“Is there anything I can get you before you retire for the night?” You asked.

“A cup of tea would be nice, if you have it” he said

“Of course” you said smiling. You walked into the prep room to boil some water on the kettle. You grabbed a tea bag and a mug. After preparing it you took it back out to the private. You thought about your conversation from before, and how you didn’t tell him the complete truth of what you had to lose by allowing yourself to feel your own feelings.

You placed his tea on the table beside his bed “I hope it’s not too hot” you said smiling.

“I can wait” he said smiling politely.

“Um…remember when you asked me earlier, what I had to lose by feeling my own emotions?”

“Of course” he said sipping his tea “you were afraid of losing your independence” he said chuckling “as you should, that’s a redeeming quality”

You smiled “yes well, I thought of something else I might have to lose…by falling in love”

“And what is that?” He asked.

“I could lose you” you confessed “I don’t want to do that”

“Lose me? How?” He asked

“Eventually, you won’t be here anymore. You’ll heal up, you’ll go back home to London. You could die fighting in this godforsaken war if the send you back out there” you said “that’s why I can’t have these feelings for you!” You blurted out, fighting back tears just thinking about him someday not being there.

“If we’re ever separated, by something other my possible death, I will come find you. I’ll look everywhere if I have to” he said, taking your hand. “I’ll always look for you”

You weren’t sure what to say at that point. All you could do was smile and grip his hand in yours.

“I’d look for you too” you said smiling softly.

“Can I ask one more favor?”

“Anything”

“Please, stay with me tonight”

“Of course” you said pulling your chair up.

“Not what I meant darling” he said softly

“But where will I-“

“Here” he said patting the bed beside him.

“I-I shouldn’t….” You said.

“Just for a little while, please?”

You hesitated at first. You really shouldn’t be doing this. What kind of example would this be setting for the younger nurses? Especially after having scolded them several times for ‘letting their feelings get in the way’ of the daily duties that needed to be done. Eventually, against your better judgement, you have in.

“Only for a short time” you said

He nodded as you sat down on his bed before laying beside him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing small circles on your arm. Eventually, you allowed yourself to relax.

He was warm, and although you knew he was physically strong he held you so gently.

“Thank you” you heard him say

“You’re welcome”

That was the last thing you said before you eventually fell asleep in his arms.

* * * * *

To be continued….

[kyeanadril]

Dei - WTFel Did Kyean Do?

Deiala was in Dornogal, the place she didn’t expect, or want, to be but here she was. On a good note she was book shopping, there was SOOO much information that she wanted. Already she had sent a few crates back to the city and hired a scavenger duo to go and see if they could uncover any books from the wreckage. She already had bought a handful that were damaged and planned on restoring them if she could. 

She was not sure she could go beneath the surface though, even here she could feel the void like it was crawling through the ground to try and drag her down. Every step she took she wondered when it would ooze through the cracks and grab her ankles, or that each shadow was going to become a cultist to take her to Kharon. 

If she hadn't been afraid for her friend she would have remained in Stormwind trying to figure out how to permanently keep herself safe from Kharon and his people. This void corruption was only going to make him stronger and while there were other priorities in the people around her, she had to remain steadfast to keep herself safe, 

From up above her she heard a familiar voice that descended down to land next to her. “Deiala Vyeaniux, what the fel do you think you are doing on this island? Did you decide to just make yourself a tasty little treat in a place where Kharon and his followers could just gorge themselves upon?”

“No, I decided to allow a friend to startle my heart into stopping so my being taken is no  longer a problem.” Dei snapped at Kyean and his brows rose over the linen.

“I thought we agreed to your remaining back in Stormwind?” He asked.

The head with its beautiful accents of blue, green and purple bright in the sun tipped up to face him. “Plans change when the fucking demon that has been making deals with my company calls my lead and three others down into the depths to hopefully recover someone.” Hands clenched into fists, “I was working with Saxori on our plans and came up from below, imagine my surprise when I checked over the comm messages?”

Kyean shook his head, “Girl, why are you in this company of fools?” 

“Why are you above ground, last you messaged me you were going to face the nerubians down deep?” Dei asked.

The large man sighed and spoke in a low rumble, “I fucked up.” 

Dei tipped her head, taking his clawed hand and leading him to a small wall looking over the green landscape around them. “Spill.” It wasn’t a statement, but more of a command. 

Hearing that word and the command reached into him and grasped his demon, that had never happened before and Ilokar snarled within him. “Don’t… do… that…” it was all he could do to stop the nathrezim from yanking control to kill Dei.

She looked confused and shook her head, “What?”

“I don’t know if it is because you are rattled or pissed at this man’ari but demanding something with your intention behind it, is dangerous.” He stated simply but didn’t go deeper with that since he decided that could be dangerous knowledge at this very moment. “Perfume girl, Nahilvi, is new to fighting and joined a company so I was trying to watch over her when I could.” 

“So you were watching her? Did she know?” 

“No,” he grumbled.

Dei paused and blinked, “Isn’t that defined as stalking?”

He snorted, “Fuck you.”

“Wait… Nahilvi? As in the Silver Banshee? The singer? Wow, I saw her this summer, she is… whoa she is as stunning as her voice. I got a recording of some of her songs to dance to.” She looked over at him, “Oh my, when you shoot for the stars, you really shoot for the stars.” 

The Illidari seemed to slump, “Yes, that is her, and my cousin agrees with you on that description. Fuck Dei… the moment I slipped into the caverns it felt like I was haywire. I was fixated on her and so very, very angry about anything, everything. One of the people that live down there called it black blood, it creates violence.”

Taking a few deep breaths before she asked, “Is that part of the void corruption?”

“Yeah, at least that is what the people down there think. Not sure any of our people have confirmed it, but man you should meet the Haronir, Dei. They are so cool, and they have so much knowledge from down there.” For a man out of control he sure sounded pretty good.

The landscape called to her and she looked over it quietly, just taking time to digest and decided to skip talks of the void and demons. “So, how did she figure you out? And you already knew she didn’t want someone overbearing and protective, you are not dumb, this black blood is all that?”

The pause seems fine to Kye too, but he was still slumped forward, “Their camp scout spotted me.”

She turned and looked at him, “You? You got caught?” 

“That black blood shit gets people killed. I was so angry that she was down there not listening to me, then there was a battle at her camp so I started just checking on her once in a while.”

“Once in a while?” She asked.

The dark man lowered his head more, “I checked in when I was not fighting, when I was, I had a friend just look in, tell me if there was an issue. After I was found out a group of *really* good fighters came to our camp. The group she managed to get into a group that I would consider elite. How she got in is beyond me, she mentioned a man she knows, maybe that is how.” Even away from the cavern that made him grumble before continuing, “Her commander and the friend of mine that works with us talked, then he called for Nahi to come to our camp, told her that if I was found near their camp again she would be fired. She got really upset and told me I was close to ruining her attempt at doing something she was really proud of.”   “You know she has a point, right? And being jealous of anyone in her life, even if they are lovers” Dei said and looked over at him. “I know you said the L word but…”

“I am not stupid. I know that and I was really working just to get her to like me first, then the fucking black blood.” Kyean said dejectedly.

Before Dei said anything his comm beeped, he checked it, then sat it aside with a *look* on his face. She watched him color deeper and tipped her head, “You need to take that?”

“No! Err no…” Kyean said and shook his head.

It beeped again and he shoved it into his pack. “Kyean take it, it is alright.”

“Just a text, I will get it later.” He said and started to fidget.

All of a sudden a velvet-y voice began to yell from his comm unit. “Kyeandril! You can not ignore me Pathyn gave me your override. You better pick up this moment.” He began to scramble to get it, “Kyeandril answer now or I will come and find you…”

Dei blinked, “Oh my goodness, is that your mother????”

He didn’t even answer and just took his pack and flew away.

( @dicenne for mentions)

[nithiyanantha]

Martanity Wear and Traditional Fabrics: A Perfect Combination

Martanity wear, blending comfort and elegance, has become a staple in maternity fashion. As women embrace their changing bodies during pregnancy, the choice of fabrics plays a crucial role in providing both style and comfort. Traditional fabrics, with their rich textures and timeless appeal, have found a prominent place in this niche. Here’s how Martanity wear and traditional fabrics create a perfect combination for expectant mothers.

The Charm of Traditional Fabrics

Traditional fabrics like cotton, silk, and linen have been cherished across cultures for centuries. Their natural fibers offer breathability, softness, and durability—qualities essential for the comfort of a pregnant woman. Cotton, for instance, is known for its ability to keep the skin cool and dry, making it ideal for everyday Martanity wear. Silk adds a touch of luxury and elegance, perfect for special occasions, while linen provides a relaxed and breezy feel, perfect for warm climates.

Benefits of Combining Martanity Wear with Traditional Fabrics

1. Comfort and Breathability: Traditional fabrics are highly regarded for their comfort. Cotton’s softness against the skin reduces irritation, which is vital during pregnancy when the skin can be more sensitive. The breathability of linen ensures that expectant mothers stay cool, while silk offers a smooth, gentle touch that feels soothing.

2. Style and Elegance: Traditional fabrics often come with unique patterns and rich colors that add a sophisticated touch to Martanity wear. Whether it’s a flowing silk dress for a special event or a casual cotton tunic for everyday wear, these fabrics enhance the overall look and feel of maternity outfits.

3. Versatility: The versatility of traditional fabrics means they can be easily adapted into various Martanity wear styles. From elegant gowns to relaxed separates, traditional fabrics allow for a range of designs that cater to different needs and occasions during pregnancy.

Practical Tips for Wearing Martanity Wear with Traditional Fabrics

When incorporating traditional fabrics into your Martanity wear, consider the following tips:

1. Choose Breathable Fabrics: For everyday wear, prioritize fabrics that offer breathability and comfort. Cotton and linen are excellent choices for their ability to regulate temperature and provide a soft touch.

2. Opt for Stretch and Flexibility: Traditional fabrics like silk can be combined with stretchy materials to accommodate a growing belly. Look for designs that incorporate elastane or spandex for added flexibility.

3. Layer Wisely: Traditional fabrics can sometimes be delicate, so layering with additional fabrics can help protect them and add style. For instance, a silk blouse can be layered with a cotton cardigan for added comfort and durability.

Post-Delivery Considerations

After delivery, comfort remains a priority, and traditional fabrics continue to play a role. However, many new mothers have questions about their postpartum care, such as, “How long should I wear a maternity belt after delivery in a day?” A maternity belt can help support your abdomen and ease discomfort, but it’s essential to understand how to use it effectively. Generally, wearing the belt for short periods—typically 1 to 2 hours at a time—can help alleviate discomfort while allowing for adequate breaks. Always consult with your healthcare provider for personalized advice based on your individual needs.

Conclusion

Martanity wear and traditional fabrics together create a harmonious blend of style, comfort, and elegance. By embracing the natural qualities of traditional materials and adapting them to modern maternity fashion, expectant mothers can enjoy both aesthetic appeal and practical benefits. From daily comfort to special occasions, the right combination of fabrics ensures that you look and feel your best throughout your pregnancy journey.

For those curious about postpartum care, remember to address questions like “How long should I wear a maternity belt after delivery in a day?” with your healthcare provider to ensure the best results for your recovery.

[bookoformon]

Ether 10, Part 7. "The Look."

Once we decide to get rid of the Republican Party which has not in my recent memory held a press conference about its intentions to help the people of Africa or the Caribbean or Spain with their floods, droughts, or food shortages or the disaster area the Midwest is becoming with all those tornadoes or their causes runaway climate Change, we will see how amicable the world can be.

While millions are made into terrified, hungry, and helpless vagrants, and with many more on the way, Marjorie Taylor Green and her friends waste the resources of the most wealthy and capable nation on earth squabbling over the last time we did something good for someone else. when we passed the Ukraine aid package. This took over six months to pass, meanwhile the Russians, convinced America is being run by Cabbage Patch Kids accelerated their attacks on Ukraine and more property has been lost to them and more people are dead.

The implications of a naturally sane system going forward are poor. The taste and judgement of the American people continues to be exceptionally poor.

Ether 10, in the next section explains how good and Godly persons act when they work together as a nation:

23 And they did work in all manner of ore, and they did make gold, and silver, and iron, and brass, and all manner of metals; and they did dig it out of the earth; wherefore, they did cast up mighty heaps of earth to get ore, of gold, and of silver, and of iron, and of copper. And they did work all manner of fine work.

24 And they did have silks, and fine-twined linen; and they did work all manner of cloth, that they might clothe themselves from their nakedness.

25 And they did make all manner of tools to till the earth, both to plow and to sow, to reap and to hoe, and also to thrash.

26 And they did make all manner of tools with which they did work their beasts.

Rather than list all the hidden meanings in each symbolic implement or concept, which could be distracting let's look at the most subtle ideas instead. There Prophet says the keys to a Godly people are work, metals, textiles, tools, and farmology.

Work is to work against the animal nature and devious instincts of man and build civil societies. The Torah says in the Book of Genesis, for Six Days you shall work, but by the Seventh Day you shall not work. At some point the Ethical Self must emerge after all that work. Persons and entire nations have to work, and they have to bear results, i.e., they must bear fruit.

First, we dig. Digging is called Kabbalah. The Torah cannot be taken literally. It does nothing but cause misery if it is taken literally. The process is very much like explained above, one has to dig, unearth metals, smelt them down, turn them into tools, and then the real industriousness of work begins. The layers of the Torah and the Tanakh are just like this.

Man cannot be allowed to roll out of the womb and then into life. He is a savage, disgusting, nasty creature, selfish, vicious and conniving if he is not tamed. So the first priority of the Torah is to teach people to dig for the Sentient Spirit of God that is inherent to all goodness in life.

Man can make tools and technology and build, he can make himself, but only God can make life. When the life giving essence on this world finally ebbs and leaves because man has refused to dig for too long, we will be done for.

Metals are positive commandments named in the Mishpatim. A man who combines the raw ores of the Mishpatim with the fire of the Burning Bush, the Essence of All Jewish Being, creates bronze, the combination of them all. It was not lost that Jewish men turn the color or bronze in the sun, and thus a bronze boy was considered the best:

From Terumah:

"Make for me a sanctuary" (Exodus 25:8) was first stated when the Jews built a portable sanctuary in the wilderness. This building was to be made from three metals: gold, silver, and copper. 

Textiles are the opposite- plants have to be taken apart in order to create a textile. The level of alteration needed to in order to plant a seed, grow up the crop, then process the plant, tear it apart, dye it, and reweave it into a textile represents the negative Mishpatim.

God said, "you shall not do these things, I am the Lord who led you out of Egypt."

Textiles clothe a nice bronze guy and make him presentable. It is not enough to teach a young man how to pee in the toilet, brush his teeth, look both ways before crossing the street, don't drive drunk or make someone pregnant.

Textiles clothe the identity in tasteful form fitting apparel that suit the stage of life and institute a proper temperament. The most famous Jewish textiles are found in the uniform of the High Priest.

To thrash is to become a professional. Once the savage self is thrashed away it does not return.

Farming refers to the process of education and citizenship that provides mankind with all he needs to peacefully coexist with himself and the natural world.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 23: And they did work in all manners: The Value in Gematria is 8967, חט‎וז‎ ‎, "he has sinned, hatzoz...he has moved but gone nowhere." Sins are not mistakes, mistakes are not sins.

v. 24:  That they might clothe themselves from their nakedness. The Value in Gematria is 7642, זודב‎‎ , zodev, "Shabbos is the Door."

Without realization, progress along the course of the Six Days to the doorway of the Seventh will not take place. No one runs around without clothes on, not usually. Notice of this is taken before one leaves the house. Similarly, one does not leave or reenter the house looking, feeling, or acting like a caveman who has to kill to eat, and does not know how to use deodorant.

The American government is populated by savage animals like Thomas Massie and Marjorie Taylor Green and they have somehow managed to gain popular support. And tens of millions want to retain Donald Trump as the president, a man who has sex with minors including members of his own family.

We are a naked nation.

v. 25: And they did make all manner of tools. The Value in Gematria is 5602, הו‎אֶפֶסב, "the father of whips."

Remorse is the father of whips. Should one commit a sin or make a mistake, the whip has to come out. One must atone, make a sacrifice and develop an aversion to the whip. Without remorse, laws are useless.

Our failure to force one moment of remorse out of our Congress or Supreme Court for all the deaths and loss of quality of life it has caused over Donald Trump, Ukraine, and the illegal overturn of RVW is a good example. We are not seeing the whip and do not know what real ethical government looks like and it is driving the people of this planet insane.

= the beasts are not being worked:

v. 26: And they did make all manner of tools with which they did work their beasts. The Value in Gematria is 5229, ה‎בבט, "the look of the tribe."

Our tribe does not look so good at the moment. It does not look good on the inside nor the outside, everyone on this planet is looking for sound and proper direction from their leaders and managers and very little is to be found.

Once again, the Republican Party is the biggest threat to life on earth next to the Russians and Chinese. It is a state sponsor of terror on our soil and abroad and it has to be shut down. The Russians needs to leave Ukraine and reconstitute after the manner of a first world nation. Neither the Russian people nor the planet can afford to withstand another Soviet Union.

The atmosphere needs to be scrubbed of greenhouse gases at once so soaring temperatures can come down. Aid to war and disaster victims- those who are innocent- must begin to flow freely.

Once strong direction from the White House and other world leaders indicate all of this is going to happen, everyone will look and feel better as these acts of human dignity are the most consistent with who we really are, "doers of fine work."

The Republicans and Russians and their friends, the Mormons are an evolutionary dead end. Their unfettered presence on this planet is destroying everything. The White House has everything it needs including the law, the military, the might and the money to do away with them all, if only it would just do it.

This world has no place for tyrants and tyrantitas in it. Joe Biden needs to kill them all so we can finally move on. They have a taste for blood, a thirst for conquest and no remorse. This contest cannot be avoided and it cannot be lost.

[daisylore83]

Contemporary Cool: Embracing Indo-Western Styles in Men's Fashion

 Indo-Western fashion is the result of the extraordinary blending of modern Western trends with traditional Indian dress that has occurred in the fashion business in recent years. This special combination gives men's clothes a new perspective by combining comfort, style, and versatility.

Evolution of Indo-Western Fusion

Over time, Indo Western dress for men fashion has changed dramatically to reflect shifting cultural dynamics and aesthetic preferences. What began as sporadic experimentation on fashion runways has evolved into a global trend that is loved by fashionistas everywhere.

Key Elements of Indo-Western Fashion

The core of Indo-Western fashion is defined by several fundamental elements:

Textures and Fabrics: Interesting textures that give depth to ensembles are created when contemporary textiles like denim, suede, and leather combine with traditional Indian textiles like silk, cotton, and linen.

shapes: Indo-Western shapes successfully integrate elegance and modern flair by fusing the flowing drapes of Indian clothes with the structured cuts of Western apparel.

Accessories: Accentuating Indo-Western ensembles requires the use of accessories. The correct accessories can completely change an outfit, from bold scarves and jewelry to chic shoes and purses. 

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Popular Indo-Western Styles for Men

Men who want to create a look that effortlessly combines Eastern and Western inspirations are drawn to a few Indo-Western styles:

Kurta with Jeans: A classic kurta and denim jeans combine to create the ideal mix of bohemian style and ethnic charm.

Layering Nehru jackets over fitted pants creates a sophisticated yet adaptable look that works well for a variety of settings.

Dhoti pants and shirts: For semi-formal occasions or cultural gatherings, dhoti pants and fitted shirts provide a contemporary spin on traditional Indian dress.

Celebrity Influence on Indo-Western Fashion

The global celebrity population has been instrumental in the spread of Indo-Western fashion. Bollywood stars and foreign icons wearing fusion ensembles on the red carpet and incorporating Indian elements into their wardrobes, respectively, have driven this trend to the forefront of global fashion consciousness through their celebrity endorsements.

Incorporating Indo-Western Styles in Everyday Wear

The versatility of Indo-Western clothing for daily use is one of its most alluring features. Whether it's mixing Western components into traditional clothing or adding ethnic accents to casual ensembles, experimenting with Indo-Western fashions enables people to easily express their distinct sense of style.

Rajwadi: Location for Indo-Western Fashion

At Rajwadi, we take great pride in providing a carefully chosen selection of exquisitely made Indo-Western clothing. Our wide selection accommodates every taste and occasion, from modern Nehru jackets to finely embroidered kurtas.

Quality and Craftsmanship at Rajwadi

In order to ensure flawless stitching, premium fabrics, and meticulous attention to detail, we place a high priority on quality and craftsmanship in every garment we make. Every item in our collection embraces contemporary design sensibilities while paying homage to the rich legacy of Indian workmanship.

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Why Choose Rajwadi for Indo-Western Fashion?

Huge Selection: We have a wide selection of Indo-Western clothing to fit any taste, ranging from traditional basics to modern styles.

customisation Options: Add a personal touch to your ensembles with our customisation services to guarantee a flawless fit and distinctive look.

Superb Quality: To make timeless clothing, we source the best fabrics and work with talented craftspeople.

Stress-Free Purchasing: Take pleasure in a flawless purchasing journey with simple ordering, safe payment methods, and fast delivery.

Tips for Styling Indo-Western Outfits

Try different layering techniques to give your look more depth.

Combine modern and classic components to create a well-balanced ensemble.

Pay attention to your accessories to easily complete the look.

To create a statement, don't be afraid to use striking colors and patterns.

The Future of Indo-Western Fashion

Indo-Western fusion is a trend that is expected to stay popular in the fashion industry because of its inventiveness and adaptability. With designers continually pushing the envelope and discovering new creative outlets, Indo-Western fashion appears to have a bright and exciting future.

Customization Options at Rajwadi

At Rajwadi, we recognize that each person has distinct tastes and body types. We provide customisation choices in order to fit your clothing precisely based on your measurements and preferred style. From choosing materials and accents to fine-tuning the fit, our skilled artisans guarantee that your clothing accurately captures your individuality.

Conclusion

Embracing Indo-Western designs in men's fashion is about honoring cultural variety and expressing personality via clothes, not just about following trends. Whether you're going to a formal event or are just going out on a casual date, adding Indo-Western fusion components to your wardrobe gives it a distinct charm and turns every ensemble into a statement piece of clothing.

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FAQs

Is Indo-Western clothing appropriate for any type of body? Yes, people with different body shapes can discover styles that suit their preferences and are flattering thanks to the variety of Indo-Western fashion.

How do I successfully decorate Indo-Western clothing? Invest in eye-catching accessories to complete your Indo-Western look and add visual interest, such as ethnic jewelry, scarves, and shoes.

Are clothes from the Indo-Western region suitable for formal events? Of course! Indo-Western clothing gives you a stunning look for formal occasions while providing a refined yet modern option.