#she’s a sunrise dressed like dusk??

[youmanynotrestnow]

HEAR ME OUT: “daft pretty boys” by the bad suns is locklyle’s song

[archangeldyke-all]

Halloooo

For cowboy!Sevika I had an idea about Sev just being a terrible bartender after retiring constantly fucking up drinks, scaring customers and in general can’t do the job. Perhaps angsty, where she feels a burden to you or unhappy she can’t reintegrate back to normal life or very fluffy where reader tries to show Sev how to actually do the job and makes Sev do a different job after she still doesn’t get it

Or maybe cowboy Sevika acting as a guard for the bar and she protects you from the handsy and aggressive customer for you or perhaps some young outlaws wink wink (Vi and Jinx could make an appearance) try and steal from reader bar and Sevika shows them either who’s boss 🤭 or how to steal and get away with it !

LOVE ALL YOUR WRITINGS btw your doing the lords work for the Sevika lover community 🫡

love you <333

the second one???? genius... omg...

read part 1 of cowboy sevika here!

men and minors dni

sevika's been settling into the rancher life pretty easily. at sunrise, you both wake up in each other's arms. you start your rounds around the inn, delivering fresh washed towels to your guests, and then heading out to the garden to weed and water before the sun gets too high. sevika dresses in her rancher get up and makes the two of you breakfast, and if you're not too busy, you guys eat together in the tavern, sitting curled in each other's arms, chatting over coffee and eggs.

after breakfast, you walk sevika to the small stables, greeting shimmer and helping her get all saddled up. sevika always gives you a breathtaking kiss before she jumps onto shimmers back, tipping her hat at you and then taking off for the ranch a few miles north of town.

she works until sunset, and comes home at dusk, where you serve her a big bowl of dinner and a tall glass of whiskey, between tending to customers and doing chores. after she unwinds from work, sevika helps you close up the tavern, then the two of you retire to your quarters on the third floor, falling into each other's arms and chatting about your days, before making love and falling asleep against one another, excited to repeat the routine again tomorrow.

it's winter now, and with the shortened days, sevika's got much more time to spend at home with you.

when you're not busy, she spends her evenings in her stool at the bar, watching you work, flirting with you like you aren't already married, and intimidating any men who come in looking for trouble. when you've got lots of guests, sevika's a great help, doing chores without you even having to ask, helping you cook and clean, pressing kisses to your cheek when there's a lull.

you're happier than you've ever been. sevika is too.

tonight, you've got a fire roaring in the fireplace, trying to chase away the chill of the harsh cold wind blowing outside. you've only got two guests, and they both retired to their rooms early. it's just you and sev in the tavern, dancing slowly to the music playing over the gramophone.

"i'm so cold." you whisper against sevika. she chuckles, tugging you closer to her swaying body.

"you've got ten layers on." she says, pressing a kiss to your temple. you giggle.

"yeah, but it's no help. if only there were some other way to warm me up..." you say, suggestively blinking your eyelashes at your wife. she laughs, her head falling backwards.

"you're a minx." she says, shaking her head at you. you smile.

"that's not a no." you point out.

"i'll never say no to an offer like that, darlin', you know that." she says. you grin, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.

"one of the many reasons i love ya." you say. she hums.

"what're the others?" she asks, as she slowly twirls you under her arm then tugs you back to her chest.

"i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." you say. sevika smirks.

"deal."

"your smile." you start. sevika's smirk grows, her cute little gap in her teeth revealing itself. your heart melts. "there it is." you say, raising your hand from her shoulders to cup her cheeks. she nuzzles against your hold.

"hmm, that's funny. 's the first thing on my list too." she says. you laugh.

"you can't just copy every one of my answers."

"i'm not!" she insists. "c'mon, gimmie another."

you roll your eyes. "your voice." you say honestly. sevika raises an eyebrow at you.

"really?" she asks. you nod.

"my favorite sound besides your laugh." you say with a shrug. sevika melts, her arms pulling your impossibly closer to her swaying body, her head falling forward to press your foreheads together.

"sap. i like your ass." she says. you burst into laughter.

"perv!" you accuse. sevika just shrugs.

"still remember the first time i saw it. walked in here lookin' for a drink, and you were bendin' down behind the bar, getting some potatoes for the stew. think i fell in love right then." she says. you snort.

"real romantic, baby." you chastise her. she laughs.

"c'mon, 're we takin' this party upstairs or what?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows at you. you smile.

"go tuck shimmer in for the night and i'll put out the fire." you say, swooping forward to kiss your wife. "i'll meet you upstairs." you say. she grins.

"deal." she says.

she twirls you under her arm one final time before stepping away from your body, giving your ass a little pat on her way out of the tavern to check up on her mare.

you take your time wandering around the tavern, sweeping up the floor and putting chairs up, turning off the oil lamps, before grabbing a quilt and tucking it over your shoulders and wandering out to the water pump, filling a bucket of water to douse the fire with. you can hear sevika in the stable, the sounds of shimmer snorting and hay rustling, the sound of a brush as sevika tends to her horse. it makes you smile, your heart warming in the cold, cold weather.

you quickly dart back inside the now darkened tavern, desperate to get out of the cold.

something feels off.

the fire's low, and there's barely any light, but there's a shadow behind the bar you don't recognize. you freeze in the doorway, squinting your eyes at the shadowy figures. you gulp.

"hello?" you call out. nobody answers. just before you shake it off and return to the task at hand, a coin clatters to the ground behind the bar, and a voice whispers, 'shit!'

you gasp. someone's fucking robbing you!

you spring into action, throwing the bucket of water in your hands at the bar, soaking your intruder. two voices gasp, and you sprint over to the bar. "get the fuck outta here!" you call, your eyes adjusting to the two tiny figures ducking behind the bartop. they scramble, and you chase after them, screaming. "think you can fuckin' rob me?! you stupid fuckers, you got no idea who the fuck i am do you?!" you scream as you chase them out of your inn. as the tiny robbers take off, a trail of coins follows their path.

they spring out of the parlor doors, taking off down the dirt road, the moonlight illuminating their soaking wet bodies. they're kids!

they're not just kids, they're fast little fucks, sprinting away while you stumble down the front porch after them. "fuckin' stop!" you call.

it's no use, and you feel stupid chasing after kids, so you just sigh as you watch them run away.

suddenly, a gunshot rings out. the kids freeze and you jump, turning around to find sevika standing in the road behind you with her shotgun in her hands. "the woman said stop!" she shouts.

both kids raise their hands in surrender, and you smirk.

"get your ass inside now!" you shout at your robbers. they don't move. you glare at them, and behind you, sevika cocks the barrel, and aims it at them. "unless you want me to send for the sheriff." you add on.

the taller kid's shoulders fall, and then the two of them slump forward, slowly approaching you and sevika.

you both gasp as they get closer, realizing just how young your thiefs are. the oldest, a girl with a choppy pink haircut, is no older than ten. the girl beside her with two tiny pigtails looks like she's still too young for school. sevika scoffs.

"unbelievable." she mumbles. you chuckle.

you grab the collars of their shits, dragging them back inside the tavern, sevika following behind you.

you throw them in some chairs and glare at them. "stay." you command. they guiltily keep their eyes on their feet, and sevika sits across from them, her gun resting against the table, as you turn on a few lamps and round the bar for some towels, bread, and a bottle of whiskey.

when you return, the shivering girls quickly wrap themselves up in the warm towels, and tear into the bread like they're starving. some of the anger in your chest melts, pity taking it's place. you sit down beside sevika, studying your prisoners as you take a long sip from the bottle in your hands, before passing it over to her.

"do you know who i am?" you ask. the older girl blinks up at you. "do you know what this place is?" you ask. she shrugs.

"an inn?" she asks. you snort.

"the last inn on earth you'd ever wanna rob." you say, nodding.

"why? we almost got away with it." the younger kid asks. you snort. sevika huffs beside you.

"because criminals stay here. actual criminals, not wannabe fuck ups like you two." sevika spits out. the oldest rolls her eyes.

"we're criminals!" she defends. sevika chuckles.

"you stuffed your pockets with coins and left a trail behind you. by the time you got away, you'd have had fifty cents left, at best. you robbed us before we were even closed! you're what, five years old?" she asks. the girl scoffs.

"i'm eight!" she exclaims. beside her, the younger girl huffs.

"what's wrong with bein' five?" she asks.

you chuckle. "where're your parents?" you ask, no longer upset about the attempted robbery, ready to get back to your night alone with your wife.

"we don't have any." the younger girl says. the older one stares down at her lap, biting her lip.

you and sevika shoot each other a look. fuck.

"what're your names?" you ask, rising from the table to round the bar again, pulling out two bowls and filling them with some stew.

"i'm violet. this is powder." the oldest replies. "we're sisters." she says.

you return to the table, and pass a bowl of stew to each girl. the youngest looks at you with stars in her eyes, while the oldest glares at you.

"thanks, miss!" powder says. you smile at her.

"don't eat that powder." violet whispers. "could be poisoned." she says.

sevika snorts. "if we wanted you dead, i'd've shot you. fuckin' eat." she says. violet glares at her, but picks up her spoon nonetheless.

after the first bite, the girls' eyes go wide, and then they start shoveling the food into their mouths like animals starved. your heart breaks again. sevika elbows you, knowing that you're softening to the girls. you look back at her. the two of you have a silent conversation. it goes something like this:

absolutely not.

they're kids, sev!

fuck no. you already fed 'em. they tried to rob us!

they're orphans! they're starving, and soaking wet, and freezing cold!

they. tried. to. rob. us.

we're rich, we can afford a little robbery from time to time! you're wanted in twenty three counties for the same crime, and i still married you!

...fuck.

you smirk, and sevika huffs and rolls her eyes.

"look." you say. the girls look up from their bowls. "you can stay here for a while, i got some vacancies upstairs. if you try any funny shit, you'll be out on your asses again, understand?" you ask. the girls blink at you.

"what?" voilet asks. "why?" she asks, suspicious. you shrug.

"i'm a nice person." you say.

"she's a saint." sevika corrects, glaring at the girls.

"and if the two of you are gonna try 'n make it out west as thieves, you gotta learn how to rob properly." you say. "luckily for you, i know someone who can help teach ya." you say, nudging sevika. she huffs.

"only if they help with the chores around here." she says. "shovelin' shimmer's shit. cleanin' the outhouse. the nasty shit." she says. you nod, then look at violet.

"deal?" you say. she blinks, then looks at her sister. powder shrugs.

"deal." violet says, reaching forward to shake your hand.

your days look a little different now. you and sevika never wanted kids, and your motherly instincts aren't exactly up to par, but the four of you figure it out as time goes on.

in the mornings, you still wake up at dawn. but instead of getting to work on the chores, the two of you get to slowly wake up together while the girls take care of the morning rounds.

you all eat breakfast together, powder usually providing the entertainment with wild re-enactments of her dreams from the night before.

during the days, sevika goes to the ranch, and you stay back at the inn, teaching violet how to cook and powder how to read. when she returns at night, the girls join her in the two stools beside her designated spot, chatting to you behind the bar and teasing you while you work.

the three of them help when you're busy. vi's got a knack for people, charming the pants off of any patrons who come in. powder is a wiz behind the counter, great with numbers, obsessed with the fun noises the register makes each time she pops it open.

when your patrons retire for the night, sevika gives the girls robbing lessons. she tries to pretend she hates the kids, but you see the grin she wears when she teaches them how to ride horseback, or when they master a new slight of hand trick.

you're both growing attached to the girls.

the first time violet sees you and sevika kiss, she trips over her own feet and falls face first onto the floor. every time after that, you catch her gawking at you and sevika, a look of wonder and shock in her eyes. it's cute. you remember the first time you saw two women kiss; the shock that flooded your body, quickly followed by the warmth of a new realization about yourself.

one night, as you're saying goodnight to the girls, violet tugs your hand before you can leave her bed. you blink down at her.

"what's up, kid?" you ask.

"you and sevika... you guys are married?" she asks. you smile and nod. "...like, the same way men and women are?" she whispers. you giggle.

"yeah." you say. she blinks.

"how?!" she asks. you shrug.

"bribed a pastor." you say. she smiles.

"oh." she says. you nod.

"y'know... the west is different from the rest of the world. people out here are a little more... open minded. and if they're not, you can always just shoot 'em." you say. "you can be anybody you want to be."

violet bites her lip as she considers this. "like... like a retired bandit/rancher who lives in a tavern?" she asks. you laugh and nod.

"who lives in a tavern with her wife." you say. violet blushes, and you ruffle her hair. "goodnight kid."

sevika's particularly fond of powder. when they're not bickering, they're getting into trouble with each other. you've found them in the cellar 'sneaking' scoops of jam out of jars while giggling mischievously with one another.

powder is shimmer's favorite person in the world, you swear the little kid can telepathically communicate with the horse or something. you've found her asleep in shimmers stable on warm evenings, sevika just rolling her eyes as she refills the troughs. you know she's not really annoyed, though. not when powder's got sevika's red poncho tucked under her chin as a blanket.

your customers get pretty used to the presence of the girls too, greeting them with fist bumps and noogies, bringing them trinkets from their travels and adventures.

by the time spring rolls around, the room at the end of the hall's been permanently taken off the roster for outside customers. powder and vi customized the little white door to their room with bright blue and pink paint.

as the days grow longer again, sevika stays at the ranch longer, and she comes home more and more exhausted.

one night, she's laying on her stomach in bed, groaning as you massage her sore back. you lean down to press a kiss to her neck.

"i love you." you say. sevika hums.

"i love you too, darlin'."

"how were the cows today?" you ask. she huffs.

"fuckin' crazy. they're all excited about the warm weather."

"powder missed you today." you say. sevika sighs.

"little fucker." she says fondly. you laugh.

"you love her." you say. sevika groans.

"i guess. they're not that bad. they're a big help around here too." she says. you smile.

"yeah." you say.

"you think they're ever gonna leave?" she asks, turning over to flop on her back and look up at you. you settle down on her chest, listening to the steady thump of her heart.

"no." you say honestly. "at least not for a long while."

"i thought we didn't want kids." she says. you laugh.

"we didn't. we don't. just think of 'em as permanent residents." you say. sevika groans.

"i thought i was teachin' 'em to rob so they could go out on their own."

"oh please, you'd be heartbroken if they left."

sevika chuckles beneath you. "i guess." she says, a little smile on her lips. you grin. "they're lucky, y'know." she says. you furrow your brow.

"whaddya mean?"

"that they robbed us. that it's your inn. that you like takin' in strays." she says. you giggle. "they could be in a jail cell. or livin' with nuns at an orphanage." sevika says, a shiver running down her spine. you press a kiss to her neck.

"i'm lucky too, you know." you say. she hums a questioning sound beneath you. you grin. "all the strays i took in ended up bein' sweethearts." you explain. sevika laughs beneath you.

"whatever." she says. you giggle and kiss her neck again.

"you're still my favorite you know." you say. sevika chuckles.

"i better be."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess

[trppdnrbbr77]

The 2nd in the series...

Part 2: The Last Pit Stop: Sin City

As the night longed on several different “customers” came through. Soon I could see the dusk of sunrise come into the small window on the side of the bathroom where I sat cuffed to the back of the toilet bowl, forced feminized, as a red rubber prostitute.

Sure, I struggled and tried working my bonds, every time I moaned, I received a “reminder” from my collar to be silent. By now I was completely exhausted. Then the door opened one last time. In front of me were the 3 shapely figures that made this prison. What seemed to be the leader came in and inspected the bucket. She counted and chuckled, “not too bad”. She motioned to her team, and they pulled out a water bottle and sprayed it in my violated mouth. I still had a salty taste, I thought “they didn’t even tip”!

They finished rinsing my mouth. Then they removed the cuffs to the toilet, and the cuffs from the bottom of the bowl. They stood me up. For the first time I could size up my captures, they couldn’t be over 5 feet tall. I was exhausted to fight back.  It didn’t take long for the leader to take out a long trench coat and wrap it around me. They stuffed the arms of the coat and put the sleeves in the front pocket. My hands were still cuffed behind my back. They buttoned up the coat and wrapped the belt of the coat around my feminine shaped body. The coat went down to my lower ankles.

They walked me out of the stall and as I passed the mirror I could see my reflection. “Wow” I thought, “I would hit that, no don’t think like that”. One of the girls opened the door and scouted for spectators, it was getting brighter outside. The sun was coming up. No one was in the parking lot only their car was parked in front of us it was a large sedan with dark tinted windows. “Don’t worry about your car and stuff, it’s ok”. 

They hurried me through the parking lot and sat me in the back of the car. It had a lot of room. They buckled me in. I couldn’t move with my hands cuffed behind my back. I tried to squirm, but all the girls did was laugh.

One of the girls rubbed my “camel toe” and I started becoming awkwardly aroused. Sensing this, the girl said, “I bet you like being dressed like this”. I shook my head no. “Really? I bet I can make you feel like the hottest slut in the world”. I wiggled, she jumped up and sat on my lap. The other girls just laughed.

She pulled out a long silver shaft. “Show me how you made that money”. She put the shaft into my forced open mouth and turned on the vibration. Then she yanked it in and out with her right hand, with her other rubberized hand she grabbed the back of my wig and forced my head back and forth. She came closer to me, and I noticed she had the fake pouty shiny red lips I had. She kissed my cheek. I started to give into my feelings.

While this was happening, the car began driving off. She continued, “suck it” “just like you want that money, you nasty girl”. Her rubber glove came around and brushed my slutty painted face and I started to feel the constriction of the briefs as my member tried to grow but couldn’t. She reached into the trench coat and started to caress my “breasts” through my red, tight, rubber dress. The gel in the cups had enhanced the feeling and the sensitivity could be felt through the cups on my nipples. 

She stopped pushing the vibrating shaft and left it in my mouth, I tried to push it out with my tongue but couldn’t. With both hands she forced my eyes wide open, and the other girl put black contacts into my eyes. It was dark again. Then everything stopped. The shaft was removed from my mouth. Talk about blue balls.

The girl got off and I squirmed again against my feminized bonds. 

I could only feel the car shift back and forth. Exhausted, I napped. I woke when the car came to a stop. “We are here” said the familiar leader voice. With that the seat belt was taken off. I was helped up and walked. I had a hard time walking in the boots. I heard a door open and was escorted into an echoing room, must be a hallway. 

We stopped and I heard an elevator ding. We entered the elevator, and I heard the doors close. Then the elevator went up. Another ding and we started walking again. Then I heard a click and what could only be the sound of a hotel room door open, we entered.

We went into the bathroom, and I could hear a shower start. The coat was removed. The corset was worked off and the dress was rolled off, it hurt as the blood was rushing back into my formerly constricted body. The leader said “we can’t sell a dirty product.

“Remember your collar, unless you want to be reminded”. In other words, don’t make a sound. By now it didn’t matter, I was exhausted, needed sleep, the nap didn’t help. She removed the O ring gag. I was sat down, the anal shaft in my rubber briefs was protruding and was driving me insane. 

The gloved hands unzipped the tight boots, and a sharp pain up and down my legs rushed in. The boots were taken completely off, the rubber tights were unfastened from the briefs and rolled off my legs like used condoms. The cuffs were taken off, I tried to struggle but even my body wouldn’t listen to my thoughts from total exhaustion. 

“Good girl” said one of the mini feminizing ninjas. The long gloves were rolled down each of my arms and taken off. I felt a cool breeze hit my skin and I got goose bumps. Then it happened, the briefs were removed and other than the obedience collar, Hooters’ breasts, and brunette Barbie doll hair with makeup, I was completely naked.

I was put into the shower and washed with feminine smelling body wash. The cups seemed to not budge from my chest. The makeup was washed off and the wig was totally washed and conditioned like actual hair. My whole body was rinsed, and the shower was done. I was toweled dry.

Women’s bikini bottoms were slid up my legs. My privates were jellied up and the bikini bottoms with pocket but without a shaft were put back into place. A new corset was clamped around my midsection. This one was tighter and came over the breasts. My legs were covered in jelly and thigh high stockings were rolled up each leg and reconnected to the briefs. 

This time, tall high heels were pulled onto each foot with a strap tightened around each ankle, “Hooker heels” for sure. Each arm was coated in the jelly and the rubber gloves were rolled up each arm back into my armpits. My hands were cuffed in front of my body.

I was led over to a chair and sat down for my makeup. I could feel the lotion like foundation spread all over down to the collar, heavy, sticky lipstick was coated on my lips, then slippery lip gloss. Eye makeup, eye liner, heavy fake eyelashes, and eyebrows were painted on my face. Then small hooks grabbed each side of my mouth and stretched my mouth open. Not fearing the shock, I moaned. Then red rouge was painted on my cheeks, I could feel it cover the straps to the fishhook gag. 

My now permanent hair was combed and pulled back, I heard the snap of a rubber band, and the bangs were curled. I was stood up and walked across the room. I felt a shove and the upper part of my body was bent forward over a table. The cuffs were pulled forward and my hands were stretched down across the front of the table and tied down forcing my head up over the edge of the table, my legs were spread, and each ankle was tied spread open.

A rubber gloved hand opened each eye, and the contacts were taken out of each eye. The room was dimly lit, it must have been afternoon. Light returned, I turned my head both ways and to my right was a full-sized mirror. 

My new image stared back at me. The black hair was tied back into a ponytail, I had bright shiny pink lips, red evil slut looking eye shadow with Cleopatra style eyeliner. All pink latex gloves, and stockings. The corset was black with matching vertical pink lines, and pink women’s bikini bottoms with the infamous camel toe. I call it the “manel” toe. 

The high heels matched the black of the corset. I was tied to a table near the window of the hotel window, must have been on at least the 30th story overlooking the “sin city” strip, I could see out, but no one could see in. My bonds were clear and could not been seen. The fishhook gag and strap were both clear holding my shiny prissy pink lips open. 

I struggled but could not move.  The leader looked at me and said, “don’t worry, this room is for high rollers and yes we put up the Do Not Disturb sign, so no maid will get a freebie”!  

“Let’s see how the other hole works”.  Then I felt the lubed silver shaft from the ride earlier shoved into my “back door” and began to vibrate.  The bikini bottoms had a precut hole in them. I was really turned on by this.

I was mentally turning into the “money making slut” my capturers wanted me to be. I was reaching climax when the shaft was removed.

“Your first client will be here in about 3 hours; I suggest you get some rest”.

There was a clock on the nightstand next to the bed that read “6:35”. Then the three girls cleaned the room and left. I passed out.

I woke and the clock displayed “9:20”. I was refreshed from my nap but still could not move in my bonds.

It was 9:32 when the door opened. My “client” had a key. The door slammed behind the quiet footsteps.

“Cool, a hair handle for the wild ride!”.

My shift began. You know, if you think about it, if it wasn’t for the lipstick and the lube I would get blisters.

--TrppdnRbbr77--

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #2: Horizon

She watched as the sun began to peek over the farthest edge of the sky; as light began to dye each tree that hazy morning purple and burnished red. It was a familiar sight. Something she made time to watch every morning. It was her routine. So much for the dusk in her namesake. So much for her routine.

Rakaso gathered herself up as she pushed out of the unfamiliar-turned-familiar bed she’d retired herself to the night before. Not her own, no, and something that spoke to her in the back of her mind as distinctly off-kilter of her. For the second time in recent memory she’d willingly laid her head somewhere other than her own home��� Or her favorite spot to collapse in her clinic. She ran her thumbs under her eyes at that thought. The remnants of sleep fell away. The thought of her last time here crossed her mind. Showing up in her performance attire. More than slightly drunk. In the middle of the night. Declarations of apology. A long, quiet talk into the night… and a morning after spent in clothes not-hers and not-quite-fitting in a way that she was distinctly aware of. It drew dark blush to her cheeks that she attempted to work away with her fingertips. She couldn’t help but remember the way her eyes skipped across her- Undue thoughts- rather rude thoughts as well towards her circumstances. None of that, Rakaso, she couldn’t help but chastise herself. Frankly she’d committed an error that she felt had no way of being repaid. She hadn’t earned any of these errant thoughts. That she’d been forgiven- well, she assumed she’d been forgiven in any case even if she didn’t at all feel as if she’d earned it- didn’t mean she suddenly got to think of the entire night and morning after with some wistful blushing and a raised heart rate. She’d made those mistakes before. She rubbed at her face again to ease the scowl that snuck its way onto her features.

Her dress was folded and set to rest on a chair nearby. The desk it was paired to haphazardly crammed into this small guest room. It was if it was an invitation- an expectation. In that earnest and honest way she’d somehow become accustomed to. Reliant on? Another scowl was quietly done away with. A change of clothes was within a bag near the bed. If she’d decided not to put her entire ensemble on for the morning. If she’d decided to stay for a time. Accept the implicit invitation of morning tea. Conversation. A start to the day that involved one more person in her usual routine. She made another effort to discard the bubbling, aching thought at that.

Why was it that acknowledging something made it all the more difficult? In the constant denial she was at least suffering an old, knowable ache. She could look at Nathalie and see the troublemaker she’d been assigned to keep in line. The woman who, for whatever reason, had crossed a few lines and earned enough ire to be forced into working under the most frigid and uncaring caretaker the conjurers had. She never did ask how it had come to be. She’d never wanted to ask before. Rakaso shook her head. Should she ask now? Was that something you could do as morning conversation? “Oh, good morning. What did you do to piss off the guild and get stuck with me?” Yes, that would certainly go over well. In fact it might go so well that she’d crawl under a rock and find a new way to succumb to the wonderful embrace of the earth and decay on the spot. She looked at herself in the window’s reflection. Tinted with the dawn. She definitely looked like the overdramatic sort to have that kind of thought. You’d think getting dumped in one marriage would cause one’s self to mellow out. Instead here she was contemplating the sunrise and having thoughts that made her feel as if she’d been caught indulging the girl she could’ve been when she was seventeen summers and not one day older… had her life not had an entirely different trajectory. Here she was. Here she was. She rubbed at her face again. She set down her folded dress.

In the bag was a change of clothes. An answer to a request that Nathalie hadn’t quite made. Rakaso supposed she’d stay for a while, this morning. They could talk. At least this time she’d be wearing her own shirt.

[roseofithaca]

Wulfbearn (Part 6)

Elysabeth and her guardian discover others outside their wood. Set in @idiotwithanipad 's Gore Au.

-

"Come with me, dilly dilly,

Take me hand, tilly tilly,

We shall fly where the sea meets the sun, dilly dilly..."

He likes this song, even though he has no idea what 'sea' is. The beautiful Big Lady had once described it to him, many years ago. As she'd groomed his hair, she'd told him all about how she'd been born on a wooden box that floated on a great, endless water. Such an image was terrifying to him, never having been the best swimmer, but there had been a sense of awe in freedom as she'd explained all the places she'd travelled to. A world he'd never known.

Cub massages his temples as he rests beside her, having been awake for most of the night. Wolves usually tended to be more ferocious and eager on the full moonah. Had to keep pacing around the grove till sunrise while the little ones slept, snug in the back of the cave.

"Dearest guardian...I woulds like to make a request. If I be permits." She says, stilling her movements.

Grunting, he opens one eye to look up at her. He did think she seemed to be overly nice to him today, not making too much noise, singing for him, offering to rub his head to soothe his aches. Of course, she would want something.

One of Cub's hands reached to fiddle with her necklace.

"Lucy, the duckling we took in...I believes she misses the water." She explained, "Coulds thou escort us up to the field again? Just for a short time."

Letting out a low grumble, he gave her a hesitant glare. It was one thing taking only Cub out to look at the stars now and then, allowing her to 'see her friends' who had passed on. Taking their entire little pack up there was another matter.

"I know thou doth fret for our safety. But, does it not seem to be, of late, that less little ones are finding their way to us?" She reasoned, hands gesturing with each word, as they'd long been in the habit of communicating now; "What if this be a sign that there is less danger out beyond our woods?"

The creature inhaled, thinking on that. It would make sense. Either animals are still dying but have no reason to seek him out as the land is safer, or there are simply less around. Lucy, as Cub had named her, had barely hatched and learned to wobble before a cat had snatched her up and taken her into their woods, snapping her little neck along the way, leaving her soul to land in Cub's hands.

It was still a big risk. And he'd assumed that Cub was content with the limited freedom he allowed her and the others, always within safe distance of their cave, never passing beyond the treeline.

As if to help appeal for her case, Cub scrambled behind her into the cave and retrieved the chirping little duckling, cradling her in both palms.

"Please, Sir Grumpy Fluff, mays we journey to the lake? Hehe." She mimicked, holding the tiny bird in front of her lips.

Silly Cub. That sound nothing like how duck talk.

He grunts, pushing himself up onto all fours.

Lifting his paw, he points to the sun high above and then west.

'Come home before dusk' he means.

Cub's eyes sparkle with excitement.

Elysabeth tucks Lucy inside the front of her dress whilst she holds onto the strange man. Glancing over her shoulder, she does a head count on the animals following them, some struggling to keep up on the injuries they died with.

"Almost there, my friends." She encourages and is then reprimanded by the beast man, who grunts at her to keep it down.

When he enters out onto the field, he takes a couple deep sniffs of the air, checking for danger, before stepping out into the open.

Elysabeth's breath abandons her at the beautiful sight. How long had it been since she'd seen this field in daylight? Even when she'd come up to see Father find her body, it had been overcast and dreary. Now the sky was clear, as blue a blue as she'd ever seen. She'd grown to appreciate the tranquil beauty of their little woods...but it was a wonder to see so many bright colors again.

"Is it safe, dear guardian?" She asks.

A soft grunt, then he carefully lowers her down. Not unless he's in a foul mood does he simply dump her like a rotten apple anymore.

"C'mon, everyone. We can play. Just stay close to our protector." She tells the others.

The two baby deer happily trot out, eager to sniff at the grass. The new fox kits play fight together. All the little creatures seem thrilled to be allowed some space, after months and years kept in dense woodland or huddled into a tiny cave.

Elysabeth watches as her grumpy friend finds himself a large rock to lay on, giving him a good view of the field, able to keep an eye on all his charges.

He glances sideways at her and signs, 'Happy now?'

She nods, giggling.

"Much so! C'mon, Lucy, let's take thee for a swim."

Lucy sits on her shoulder as Elysabeth scampers expertly towards the lake and kneels in the bank. She forgets that this was the spot where Father had collapsed and wailed as he'd clutched her to his chest.

"There we go...Better?" She settled Lucy on the surface and the duck managed to float. Strange, as the water felt unusual in Lucy's new form. No longer wet or cold...but thick.

As Lucy happily swam about, Elysabeth experimented, gliding her hand through. Could she swim too? Surely there was no danger in this form.

Glancing back at her guardian, he seemed more interested in watching the young foxes wrestle than keep his eyes on her.

She dared to go a bit deeper. Pressure pushed her upward, gravity warping around her. With a deep breath, she threw herself forward, and floated on her front beside Lucy. She giggled. This felt ever so weird, to swim without really feeling the water, but she liked it. No need to worry about her dress getting wet.

Just as she was about to call Dear Guardian over, eager for someone to watch her, something grabbed her ankle and pulled her under the surface.

-

Black eared fox will stand no chance against other fox unless he learn to dodge better. He watches them out of mere curiosity at first, then slight entertainment, huffing to himself as one pins the other in defeat. Then he feels a rather paternal urge to teach the smaller one who keeps losing over and over.

Pushing himself up, he grunts for their attention. Just quick check on Cub before lesson begin.

He turns to the lake, spotting Lucy flapping on the surface with her tiny wings...

Cub. Where Cub?!

He barks. 'Cub! Cub!'

Forgetting the kits, he rushes over to the lake, growling at the terrified duckling. Where is she?!

He sniffs around the bank. What would have taken her without a sound?! Or maybe she went up? No, he'd have heard that strange singing...right?

Come back, Cub! Where are you?

Fury bubbles inside of him. Should never have left the forest. Knew it dumb. One of the other beasts was just waiting for the time to strike! Waiting to take the one thing in his miserable existence that brought him some-

"Hail! Guardian, I's here!"

He turns, spotting her small form crawling up the bank, out of the water.

Oh. Dead heart racing, he sped towards her, stretching out his paw to help her up. He patted her over, checking there were no new signs of hurt.

Cub giggles, batting off his poking claws.

"I be fine! Thou be such a worry wort!" She teases.

Of course he was worried! He had no idea where she was! He'd thought...

Grunting, he frowns. 'Where Cub go?!'

"Dids I startle thee? Hehehe, why, thou does care!"

He pokes her chest. 'Answer question!'

She points to the water.

"There be a man in there! A priest, I believe, judging by his clothes." She tells him.

His eyes widen. A man?! Teeth bared, he quickly grabs Cub's arm and pulls her away.

"No, hear me! He not be a regular man. He's one of us. An unliving."

That just as bad! Dead men more capable of hurting dead cubs.

She wrenched herself from his grip.

"He be trapped, dear guardian! Look!"

His eyes followed her finger to the water. Creeping closer, he focused, looking into the murkey depths. Then, slowly, he sees it. A portly figure in a brown robe, laying at the bottom of the lake. Two beady eyes meet his. His mouth opens and a muffled cry calls to him.

Heee-!

He startles back. One of the strangest sights he'd ever seen. The man reached his hand up and it rested against the surface of the water as if pressed against glass.

"See? He be trapped." Cub repeats, inching closer.

Before he can stop her, she plunges her head back below the surface.

He grunts and pulls her out.

"I think he told me his name. Caran? Maybe Carance?" She says, looking thrilled at the prospect of having spoken to someone else after all these years. "...Let me tell him mine. Please."

The creature frowns. Why is that so important to her?

She seems to detect his question.

"....I need someone else to know it. Before I forget it..."

His heart thuds. Did...did she not think it worth telling him her name? He'd never asked. Names weren't important. Names meant getting attached. Getting attached meant more pain eventually.

The creature lets her go.

She smiles and dips her head back beneath the surface, conversing with the drowned priest. He keeps an eye on them to start, their muffled words incomprehensible to him. But the priest looks...harmless. Old. Weighed down by his own over indulgence. A kind smile appearing as Cub talks to him more.

How long had he been down there? Once, he'd patrolled the land constantly to keep track of new spirits. Either this one slipped him by...or he was losing focus on anything beyond their little den.

He settles back on the bank, a part of him wondering if Cub might prefer to stay here, with the priest.

Might be better to claim her than him. Priest can talk. Can't leave the water but...lake might be even better place for Cub to hide from danger...

He scratches at his arm, unease growing in his chest.

They're talking a rather long time. They both wear the same symbols around their necks. Do they have much in common? Cub has learned to be like him a lot these past years, copying his speech and movements, but...she still more human than beast. More human than him. Should be so. Not right that she should lose her humanity to cope as he did...Maybe better off with priest...

A growl rises up his throat.

No. No, he claimed her! Law of land, of tribe, of Moonah...says that she is his. His!

Letting out a roar, he bats at the water.

She sits up.

"What is it?" She asks, eyes wide.

He huffs and points to the sun. The hue is starting to redden a little. Nearly home time. Like they agreed.

"Oh...Right. Can I just say goodbye? Please?" She asks.

He nods. Fine. He turns to round up the others, Cub disappearing back beneath the water.

Five minutes later, he's leading them back to the cave, Cub resting on his back.

"Two weeks he said he's been in there! He was so chuffed to have someone to speak to, bless him." Cub was explaining; "I promised him that I'd go back to visit."

He growls. Why she promise that? He never agreed.

She rubs at his head; "Poor fellow be trapped and lonely. Just like thee. Be kind, dear guardian."

Once again, he melts at her touch. She knows exactly how to work her way around him now.

A grunt. Fine. One visit per Moonah cycle.

Cub kisses his temple; "Knew thou hads a heart, deep inside. Fear not, thou is still my favorite man-one."

Favorite? Huh.

[sparklecryptid]

You know, Elrond is probably going to have to take her aside and explain that by not wearing her new jewelry, at least around Imladris, she's kind of hurting a bunch of terrifying Feanorian remnants' FEELINGS.

Anordil: wait what huh? I just don't wanna damage them! They're so- so *waves hands*

Elrond, ever patient: They're Noldor made. They could survive a blow from a war hammer. Possibly even Grond. Reading in the library, filching pastries from the kitchens, and gardening in them is hardly going to damage them.

Anordil: :/ (cannot quite think of a way to explain that she feels two seconds away from being chased down and tackled for robbing a vault while wearing any of her new sparkles)

Meanwhile

Feanorians: the Princess doesn't like our gifts??? *sad murder kitten eyes*

I’m laughing so hard because the only way I can see this misunderstanding ending is with Anordil walking into her room to get ready for an event (a solstice feast or something?) and there’s a fucking tiara on bed. With a matching set of earrings and a matching necklace. There is also a DRESS that matches the jewelry perfectly and oh dear those look like real rubies sewn into it oh fuck-

Because the Feanorians obviously decided that they must Up Their Game because Anordil is a princess and knows she’s a princess so the ‘tame’ gifts they have been giving her must not be up to her standards!

Anordil has all of three minutes to stare at the gifts and sort through her panic before she remembers her conversation with Elrond and with a heavy sigh puts on the outfit.

(She gets Celebrian to help.)

Hey, at least she matches Erestor and Glorfindel when she gets to the Hall of Fire?

(If Glorfindel is the bright light of day then Erestor is dusk and Anordil only belatedly realizes that she is dressed in the colours of a sunrise.

Ah. There is not denying they’re in a relationship now is there?)

(The two of them stare. It is very hard not to stare. They feel like they’ve been teleported back to Tirion for a second because for once Anordil looks like a princess of the Noldor and it’s Giving Them Feels.

Only some of those feelings are horny.)

(The feanorians high five in the background)

[likemosaic]

@candlewick-corporation sent an ask : What rouses them from sleep is the smell of food being cooked downstairs. Not uncommon, she'd known Roman could cook, had had meals made by him before. But usually, the rabbit wasn't a morning person. Something about Atlas Academy having a strict up before sunrise schedule. I've seen the sun more times in my academy days than I'd like to, Neo. I'm perfectly fine being up at dusk instead of dawn. Fuck my circadian rhythm I guess.

So the smell of what they can only assume is breakfast obviously draws some curiosity. Roman's already aware she's up, both ears are pinned in their direction as she comes around the kitchen doorway. He's working on pancake mix based on the bowl he's stirring as he moves through the kitchen with purpose. They can spot two packages of bacon set out, and a carton of eggs on the counter too. "Neo, what did you-"

Appraise the pajama-clad woman just inside the doorway. Wrong eyes for Neo. Not Neopolitan. Trivia, then. Easy enough correction in his question. He pulls the frying pan from the bottom shelf and turns to put it on the stove before retrying his question. "Trivia, what do you want for breakfast? Or just the usual?"

neo rubs her eyes as she sits up in bed, eyelashes still clinging together from a deep, restful sleep. neopolitan is nowhere to be seen (if neo didn't know better, she'd say that she doesn't like roman very much, always missing when he's around). trivia is present. she's currently sitting at the foot of the bed, kicking her legs and humming. neo doesn't feel like arguing with her about clothing just yet (trivia always wants to go too juvenile for neo's tastes), so she resolves to eat now, dress later. her socked feet make no noise on the floor as she follows the scent of food, but roman hears her coming anyway, something neo likes--being ignored your entire childhood will make someone who always knows where you are, a very tempting prospect.

neo won't lie: she doesn't understand why she's three when most other people are one. she doesn't know how to explain that trivia and neopolitan are like friends who never go home, that sometimes they just observe while other times they take over. all she knows is roman tries. he's the first one to do so, ever. though he can't see her, trivia sits on the kitchen counter next to the stove and giggles, giving roman girlish love eyes at the fact that he's acknowledged her. what roman can see is neo smiling, her slightly sleepy wave as she comes in.

'the usual. please.' the usual is three of everything: three pieces of bacon, three pancakes, and three eggs (one runny, two not). neo crosses and opens the egg carton, counting out the eggs to help roman, gently spinning them around in playful circles but too agile to let them break. her finger points at him, and gestures to the breakfast spread, her eyebrows pulled down in concern. 'you're awake early. everything okay?'

[entertainment-news-world]

Why is Manav Gangwani's Collection called "A Timeless Affair"?

Manav Gangwani, an Indian fashion designer, is generally perceived for his bold, elegant designs that outperform traditional fashion shows. The assortment "A Timeless Affaire" exhibits his innovativeness and willingness to push the limits of couture.

This remarkable couture collection is predicated on how he might interpret an impact on the real world and fantasies. Every one of them incorporates intricate embroidery, complex weaving, and lavish materials like tulle, silk, and velvet. Each gathering is a masterpiece due to the story that epitomizes love, energy, and the endless journey for perfection.

In his artwork, he endeavors to excite feelings as well as deliver dazzling visuals. Since they are made in light of arousing advance, these dresses feature the bends of ladies, commending their sexuality. Whether it's a dazzling honorary pathway outfit, red carpet gowns, or majestic bridal attire, his pieces summon overwhelming inclinations in people and challenge regular ideas of style.

Manav Gangwani - Mix of Creative Talent, Strategic Positioning, and Consistent Quality

The bold designs in the collection have won appreciation. His capacity to join innovation according to modern fashion and traditions to make exemplary yet state-of-the-art styles has permitted him to win hearts from one side of the world. "My collection is couture in the true sense," "This couture is handmade," "It is hand embroidered," and "It is priceless."

This is a couture understanding from around the world."The name timeless represents this idea with a subject that shows the sun ascending at first light, going on through dawn into daytime, and setting at dusk." Subsequently, my jump starts from sunrise to daylight till dusk hours; I'm contrasting this adjustment of time with a lady turning into a champion, where she then turns back the clock just to track down her adoration."

Manav Gangwani's collection "A Timeless Affaire" features his imaginative capacity. It passes his aspiration on to utilize design to recount stories and his ability to modify individuals' perceptions. His creations are the exemplification of femininity; they complement ladies' bends and give them the certainty to claim their erotic nature. Whether it's a stunning pathway outfit or a regal wedding outfit, their plans excite sentiments similarly that discussions about them do.

[nonbinaryeddiekaspbrak]

ek playlist sentence starters part three

info: sentence starters from my eddie kaspbrak play list; part one part two :

sick crowd - teddy hyde

"i'm unstable, i'm a mess"

"it's a game where we pretend i never crossed the line"

"a perfect compromise"

this town is running with a sick crowd"

"this town is begging for a dismount"

"she's a victim, she's a threat"

"i'm addicted, i'm obsessed with making you complete"

"nothing can hold me back except a lack of sleep"

"i've been stuck in my ways"

daft pretty boys - bad suns

"she's a sunrise dressed like dusk"

"she's getting into something"

"he's a moth drawn to a flame"

"he's going in, he's going all or nothing"

"they look so pretty from afar"

"the gates of heaven are open now"

"my one true love has just waltzed right out"

"there's one thing about me that you should know"

"i can't help from speaking my mind"

"there's a dangerous kind of cool about you"

"you look so pretty from afar"

"you waste your time on daft pretty boys"

"all the time in the world for chasing pretty girls"

"why you look so fucking perfect on the outside?"

"got no time to wast on another pretty face"

sorry not sorry - demi lovato

"payback is a bad bitch"

"i'm out here looking like revenge"

"i know how bad it must hurt to see me like this"

"you're out here looking like regret"

"it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya'"

"baby, i'm sorry"

"i'm not sorry"

"being so bad got me feeling so good"

"feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned"

"i'm on fire and i know that it burns"

"fineness is the way to kill"

"tell me how it feel, bet it's such a bitter pill"

"i know you thought you had bigger better things"

"bet right now this stings"

"the grass is greener under me"

mean it - lauv and lany

"small talk, no conversation"

"that look makes me impatient"

"i can't tell what you're thinking"

"please, tell me what you're thinking"

"last night, we were more than fine"

"just tell me if you changed your mind"

"i'm all in"

"i'm calling, no answer"

"would you text me when you feel like?"

"don't kiss me right now"

"don't tell me that you need me"

"don't show up at my house"

"don't run me 'round and 'round"

"don't build me up just to let me down"

"don't mess with my head"

"just leave it if you don't mean it"

"you know you got me in the palm of your hand"

"you only let me hold you when he can't"

"let's never leave the house"

"let's stay in bed while all our friends go out"

"you've been staring at me with a heart of doubt"

pope alexander - crywank

"my brain would never let me forget you"

"it's not like you're lingering"

"it's more like you're haunting"

"at times, it feels like i'm pushed against the wall"

"why don't you ask any questions?

"do you really not care now?

"i try to make myself not care"

"at night you are still there"

"you might be a chapter in my life, but you're still the star of my dreams"

"i see the ones i love suck up"

"i see the boundaries of politeness"

"i see my fist getting clenched as i aim for my bed"

"i spend the night beating the shit out of my mattress"

runaway kids - harbour

"where we're from you know i hate this town"

"one by one, i'm gonna burn these buildings down"

"let's head for the sun and we'll avoid this drought"

"there ain't no looking back now"

"life's too short to take it slow"

"we go where we wanna go"

"where we've gone it all just feels the same"

"i found that sun, wouldn't you know now i miss the rain"

"we're the runaway kids"

"let's escape, we'll get there some day"

"i don't stay anywhere for too long"

"we've got roots but sinking in is our problem"

[hgono]

https://ginnyonfrederick.com/images/civiltwilight/civiltwilight.pdf

Civil Twilight October 22 - November 25 

Guendalina Cerruti Sam Cottington Evangeline Ling Hamish Pearch Gal Schindler Mary Stephenson Michelle Uckotter 

Civil Twilight occurs just after sunset and the moment when the geometric centre of the sun is at 6 degrees below the horizon. 

Caught before the beginning of day and beginning of night, twilight beckons the end. A bewitching intermission before the changing worlds. A palette cleanser for the next act. Twilight is the thin edge of the thaumatrope of time, flickering at speed as memory merges the transitions from day to night. In summer; morning light beckons a flight of song, and evening calls on those who invade, leech and crawl through the darkness. Winter dawn brings thaw, slowly tearing at the frost delivered by night, dusk brings time for cold to once again take hold. Twilight offers an exchange of knowledge for secrets and secrets for knowledge, day exposes and night shrouds. Harmony is found as twilight balances the scales.

 Civil Twilight is the stage curtains for day, still keeping the dreams of night alive. Night offers few answers, and it's mystery compels. Day offers opportunity, to those willing to engage with its tribulations. In the heavens above, Civil Twilight offers daylight a glimpse at theatrics. The fade in and eventual out signalling its presence. Daylight offers calm and new beginning. Night consumes the world stage, emotions are amplified. Night needs no introduction and dusk as it's opening beckons it's intent. 

From the corner of your eye Civil Twilight performs its ritual. The sky's leading star, washes with rich flourishes of reds, pinks, blues, and yellows, the announcement of change is rarely without spectacle. 

 List of Works:

Sam Cottington The Writers Body, 2022 Vinyl Dimensions Variable Hamish Pearch Foraged Sunrise (07:38 22/10/22), Sunset (15:59 25/11/22) and Asteroids, 2022 Steel, aluminium, enamel, paint, epoxy putty, epoxy resin 60cm x 42cm x 12cm 

Gal Schindler Lapses, 2022 Oil on linen 60cm x 70cm 

Mary Stephenson Tight New Shiny Shoe, 2022 Oil on linen 40cm x 55cm 

Evangeline Ling Self-portrait in Bordeaux, 2019 Oil on canvas 60cm x 50cm 

Guendalina Cerruti Merry-Go-Round, 2022 MDF, metal wire, photo transfer on canvas, fabric, glitters, mixed coloured beads 35cm x 170cm 

Michelle Uckotter Friends Embracing, 2022 Oil pastel on panel 12.7cm x 17.78cm

Guendalina Cerruti (b.1992, Milan, Italy) lives and works in London, UK. She holds an MA from the Royal College of Art, London, UK and BA from the Nuova Accademia di Belle Arti, Italy. Recent exhibitions include: September Issues, Peres Project, Milan, Italy (2022); People Watching, New Low, Los Angeles, USA (2022); Wasted Dreams, Public Gallery, London, UK (2022); Primary Domain, Ordet, Milan, Italy (2021); Old Friends, New Friends, Collective Ending HQ, London, UK (2021); Studiolo Lounge #1, Studiolo, Milan, Italy (2021); Marigolds, Harlesden High Street, London, UK (2019) and Playful Agressions, Greengrassi, London, UK (2019). 

Sam Cottington (b.1993) lives and works in London, UK. Recent exhibitions and performances include: Blanks, Ridley Road Project Space, London, UK (2022); Pennies From Heaven, London Performance Studios, London, UK (2022); Getting Dressed, V.O Curations, London, UK (2021); Crave, SET Lewisham, London, UK (2021); Haus Wien, Vienna, Austria (2021) and Deadhead Perfora, Yaby, Madrid, Spain (2020).

Evangeline Ling (b.1996) lives and works in London, UK. She holds an MA from Goldsmiths College, London, UK. Recent exhibitions include What is it Like to be a Bat?, ADZ Gallery, Lisbon, Portugal (2022). 

Hamish Pearch (b. 1993, London, UK) lives and works in London, UK. He received a Postgraduate Diploma from the Royal Academy Schools, London in 2019. Recent exhibitions include: All season sanctuary, Mendes Wood DM at Retranchement (2022); Happy Birthday, Dear Speed, Quench, Margate, UK (August, 2022); Amygdala Lost and Found, Sans titre, Paris, France (2021); Thames Mud, Front, Brussels, Belgium (2021); Head Above Water, Belsunce Projects/Manifesta 13, Marseille, France (2020) and Nights, Soft Opening, London, UK (2019).

Gal Schindler (b. 1993, Tel Aviv, Israel) lives and works in London, UK. She hold an MA from Royal College of Art. Recent exhibitions include: The Earth has music for people who listen, Sapling, London, UK (2022); Razor Wave, Ginny on Frederick, London, UK (2022); My Reflection of You, The Perimeter, London, UK (2022); Mud Garden, Painters Painting Paintings (2022); Les Danses Nocturnes, East Contemporary, Entrevaux / Cote d'Azur, France (2021); Entropy, Baba Gallery, London, UK (2021); Limb-Loosener, Daisy’s Room Gallery, London, UK (2021); After Image, MAMOTH, London, UK (2020); Onlooking, Kupfer Gallery, London, UK (2020).

Mary Stephenson (b. 1989, London, UK) lives and works in London, UK. She holds an BA from The Glasgow School Of Art and is currently completing her Postgraduate Diploma from the Royal Academy Schools, London. Recent exhibitions include: Incubator, London (2022); Contrappunto, Vin Vin, Vienna, Austria (2022); Watch The Fire From The Shore, Linseed Projects, Shanghai, China (2021); Fertile Spoon (with Grace Pailthorpe), Bosse & Baum, London (2021) and Paintings On, and, With Paper, Cob Gallery, London (2020).

Michelle Uckotter (b. 1992, Cincinnati, USA) lives and works in New York. Recent exhibitions include Sinkhole Project Is Presenting, Micky, Chicago, USA (2022); heaven above sea below, Lubov, NYC, USA (2022); Electric Affinities, T293 Gallery, Rome, IT (2022); Trap Paintings Vol. 2, King’s Leap, London, UK (2021); Murder Time, Springsteen Gallery, Baltimore, USA (2021); Trap Paintings, A.D. Gallery, NY, USA (2020) and Center of the Core, Deli Gallery, NY, USA (2020)

[mooglestiltzkin]

she’s a sunrise dressed like dusk

why is this so pretty???

[idolbound]

The dawn comes, and much like the day before - and the day before that, and so on for much of the past decade - Knight-Commander Meredith wakes in her quarters before sunrise. She rolls her neck to the side, then the other; stretching her shoulders and spine until a satisfied crack echoes against the stone walls of her private quarters. Dressing for the day is a ritual, first with undergarments and Chantry robes before chainmail and plate, and finally, the pointed, golden crown nestled between soft waves of blonde hair and red fabric. Piercing eyes glance to the mirror in the corner; as always, she cuts a tall, sharp figure.

Long before acquiring any form of sustenance, careful hands reach for the well-kept lockbox of lyrium within her personal bureau. Another ritual - one normally reserved for the Revered Mother to give to templar recruits - that Meredith conducts on her own, in the privacy of her own quarters. A few slivers of lyrium are shaved down, ground into dust, mixed with water, and consequently, drank. The heavy feeling of it always lingers in the back of her throat, but the near high from first consuming it at daybreak pushes it through.

Heavy footfalls line the templar tower, descending several flights of curved stairs. Recruits in the barracks hear the Knight-Commander long before she passes through; only fools dare stand in her way to the training yard, lest they be verbally reprimanded. While even as experienced as she is, there is hardly a day that passes without drawing a blade and striking it against steel. Even the leader of Kirkwall's greatest armed force cannot afford to let sword-skills wither away, lest come the day they are needed again. Manning the desk in the Gallows does not stop her - and nor will it ever.

Through the day, nothing appears out of the ordinary. No rogue apostate nor threat of blood magic - at least, not one that is evident enough to warrant a pursuance. It isn't until the sun begins to fall behind the walls of the Gallows that Meredith has moved from her office, bones aching from the chill and muscles stiff from the old chair. Yet, her day is not done. Shipped across the habour, the Knight-Commander is escorted to the Chantry for evening prayer; a habitual practice to end the day after the final meal, spent in the solitude of Kirkwall's holiest place. Knelt between pews among the common folk, Meredith Stannard prays with head tilted down, candlelight illuminating the hollow of her cheeks and sharp lines of her jaw, framed by the curtain of ever-soft blonde hair. Tonight, however, amid the usual prayers asserting an astute faith in the Maker as His humble servant, comes a prayer that asks for the prosperity of this new venture to arm the templars, and the success between one Knight-Commander and the Good Lady Comstock.

Upon return to the Gallows, one young knight holds a large letter in his hands, direct from the rookery. He looks almost apologetic, though Meredith is too tired to discipline him for bothering her well after hours. Besides, she had already seen the symbol of the wax stamp and recognized its sender. Dismissing him, she retreats to her quarters for the night, carefully keeping the letter between gloved hands for the ascent up the tower. Much like the dawn, dusk and into night, is for removing plate and chainmail, hanging the crown upon its holder, and slipping from Chantry robes to sleepwear; lines from the various belts and folds linger on pale skin and across old scars, but the sigh of relief sends away the day's tensions into the cool night air.

She sits at her personal desk, carefully unfolding the parchment held within as a free hand brushes back her hair from her face, running her thin, long fingers through it; piercing eyes read over the text, a satisfied hum sounds out to no one at all. Despite the late hour, Meredith decides a reply is in due order, despite there being no requirement to be so urgent beyond personal desire to be. A smaller inkwell lives at this desk and a quill used far less often - or at least, for personal matters, though she has been guilty for letting work bleed over.

Dearest Lady Comstock, I appreciate your willingness to fulfil my requirement so dutifully and so forthwith. I can assure that my templars will ever be eager to try your silverite and test its mettle; I look forward to seeing it in action. Enclosed, you will find your copy of the signed contract. That said, I do not foresee any difficulties in negotiating this arrangement. You appear likeminded and level-headed. I am certain you would see reason, as I would.

A pause comes to Meredith, lips pursed together as she debates her response. Such an invitation would disrupt her daily routine, though curiosity fuels the imagination, putting together a thought of what such a forge would look like, and how the good lady herself would stand among its workers, ordering them and guiding them to her specific instruction. Intrigue informs such a decision, as Meredith brings quill to parchment again; her scrawling hand neatly writes the end of the letter.

I accept your invitation. I am available in a week's time, this 30th day of Harvestmere. From the Gallows, I will arrive in the early afternoon, provided all is well in the Circle. I am most curious to witness such a process firsthand; I am eager to see how the formidable blade you have given me was crafted. I have no doubt you will be an informative and entertaining tour guide. I look forward to meeting again. Sincerely yours, Knight-Commander Meredith

Satisfied, Meredith returns the quill to its home and allows the ink to dry. This time, she notes there is no perfume adorning the parchment, and wonders if perhaps the first was mere accident or incidental after Lady Amelia would adorn such a scent upon her fine wrist before writing. Calloused fingers trail along the edge of the parchment, lost in that thought as the pale moon rises and it can be seen from the window. Tomorrow, she will send the letter to the rookery, and in a week, will make an appearance before the good lady again.

She smiles to no one in particular as she seals the envelope, pressing the templar signet ring adorned on her right ring finger into the wax, and then pads her way to bed, at long last. Another day, another routine, though she hopes that the week to come will pass quicker than most.

The good lady rises with the dawn; a routine developed over the years no matter when sleep finds her - they had always prayed at first light; though now when she clasps her hands and kneels, her prayers are halting. Unsure - more akin to a child who had only now realised what the Maker meant than a woman who had grown alongside Him. Stay from the Chant of Light and find only darkness — it is a miracle, then, that Kirkwall has become an island in a storm; It would be a sin in itself to squander that chance when she has already wasted so many. Pray, dress, eat - tend to hearth and anvil alike - another routine she is set in; simple and measured — normalcy after all she has seen, done, will do — shattered in a moment by the flap of wings as she passes by her study; the tapping of a beak against glass. Ah — her raven has returned to roost at last; and she gathers her robe around her, padding over stone and carpet to open the window, allowing her messenger to enter - bringing with it the cold of the morning before she shuts herself away once more; bringing bird and letter to her desk. Maker, how her fingers tremble and her hands shake as she unties the letter and breaks that familiar seal — here, she holds the future — a possibility of more in her hands; much like the contracts she had drawn up in the evening hours - simple; dates and quantities, payment - and the possibility of extension; both in Kirkwall’s Circle, and in others. A breath in - and unfurls the parchment to begin to read. It is a short letter - curt; but not impolite; much like their earlier conversation. The Knight-Commander is an exacting woman, shrewd as well; to the point - with little need for embellishment in her writing where the good lady writes and writes and writes; compensation for her own silence - for things that would never be said be it matters of business or matters of the heart. Uncharacteristically - or rather, perhaps it is just like her - the good lady slouches within her desk chair; remnants of a life left at the riverside when she studies the writing; the neatness of it - fingers briefly tracing a letter; then another - what to write? She has not left me much to reply to. The good lady can respect that — the Knight-Commander is a busy woman, after all — devoted. And as she studies the letter, a soft croak from the beloved raven perched upon her desk distracts her; shifting upright, placing parchment firmly to her desk to run her fingers against the top of the bird's feathered head. How to reply? Her hand reaches across her desk, the weight of the quill a familiar comfort. It had been her father's; something she has foolishly grabbed in her flight from Ferelden - of all the things to take in the face of a Blight, she had chosen this; a small piece of her lineage, a connection to the land she prayed to never return to. The words come to her easily this time - flowing from her pen in smooth strokes; her handwriting flowered script that spoke to her noble education.

Knight-Commander, I thank you for your both your swift reply and your support in such a great matter; it is most appreciated. As for the needs of your Order, twelve long and short swords will be put into production and delivered before the end of the month; upon which I will oversee the delivery and inspection of goods. Within the envelope, I have enclosed the contract you have requested - two copies, to be exact; both already signed by myself. When you reply, please enclose one contract for my own records, and keep the other for your own. 

Her hand pauses in its writing — if only for a moment; the good lady is a proud woman, Andraste forgive her. Proud of all she has done, proud of her craft — dog made trinkets, Ferelden trash. It sets her teeth on edge; Kirkwall is lucky she does not bite. Luckier still that the Knight-Commander has given her this kindness. Even better; and this, too, she chides herself for - a strange excitement ( no, pleasure ) at the prospect of seeing the Knight-Commander — Meredith — again; a distraction she indulges, ever selfish.

As a gesture of good will between us - and in the hand of partnership, I would be most honoured to invite you to tour our forge within Hightown on an afternoon when you are able to. I have little doubt you would find the craft enlightening; and it would give you an opprotunity to both inspect my smithy, and the incoming goods - both of which I know you will find no err in. Your obedient servant, Lady A. Comstock

The wheel turns, the cycle repeats. Fold, place, seal, send - baring a marked difference in this delivery this letter absent of the scent of both cigarette and perfume. Would Meredith notice the absence of perfume as she had once wondered if she would notice the presence of it?

[ibuproffie]

song of the day: daft pretty boys // bad suns 

[glcmorarchived]

* SMS | to JAX !

ELLEN: i can't say you're wrong about that... but i bet that means he's just going to give you something extra awesome next year???

ELLEN: (im trying to stay positive here)

ELLEN: wow, no wonder you're broke!!

ELLEN: what'd you get me :)

[boa-h]

【Shanks】 White Dress and Red Rose

You don’t know how long it has been like this. The world.

You sat on top of the ruins of buildings, crying silently to yourself as you awaited death. Your white dress is covered in dirt and blood, your hair is greasy and tangled. How long has it been since you last showered? You can’t remember.

Days passed slower than you could ever imagine, even the beautiful sun set became a torture.

You heard a rustle coming near you, then a dirty hand holding a red rose came into your view.

How odd, you didn’t know there were roses left.

You looked at the owner of the hand, it was a boy near your age. His hair was as red as the rose and his eyes shined brighter than the stars. He was the prettiest boy you’ve seen.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

You didn’t reply, you lost your voice a long time ago, from all the screaming and crying, and the lack of water.

“Ah, what am I saying, no one is alright at this point.” He sighed, “I couldn’t find anyone here anymore, you’re the only one.”

You nodded to indicate that you’re listening.

“I found this rose, it’s not very fresh anymore, but here, take it.” He placed it in your lap. “I think it can make you feel a bit better.”

You nodded again, and felt the sudden urge to cry. This is probably the first and last time someone will do this for you.

“My name is Shanks, I used to live near the shore.” He sat down beside you, “Everyone’s dead, you’re the first person I found who’s alive.”

The shore… You widen your eyes, that’s probably worth two days of walking, as you live in the city.

“It doesn’t matter now,” He chuckled, “We’re all dying tomorrow morning.”

You smiled and showed him your name that was sown on your dress by your mother.

“Is that your name? It’s pretty.” He grinned, “You’re pretty.”

You looked into his eyes, and you laughed silently.

“Let’s watch the sunrise tomorrow. It’ll be the prettiest.” He said, and you nodded.

Neither of you slept in the night, you listened to all the stories he told you, and they were amusing, you would have to say. It was probably the best night of your life, although you felt sad that you couldn’t talk to him and share your stories as well.

The night passed quicker than you’ve imagined, it was the shortest night ever since you had to survive on your own. The sun started to rise again, being the last dusk on earth. The days of crying and screaming came to an end, and you sat there silently waiting for the grim reapers.

Suddenly something warm touches your hand, you turn your head. It was Shanks, he was holding your hand. He flashed you a big grin, and you smiled back. And that was the last thing you could remember happening.

You woke up again, the only thing you’re seeing is white. You didn’t know where to go, but you didn’t want to go anywhere either. Maybe you were waiting for someone…

“Hello?” Someone called from behind, and you turned around. It was a boy with bright red hair, and he was holding a rose.

“Why are you here?” You asked.

“I think I’m waiting for someone, she wears a white dress. But I can’t remember who exactly.” He replied, “What about you?”

“I think I’m waiting for someone too.” You said, “I think he was supposed to hand me a rose.”