#Dining Etiquette guide

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Hosting a High Society Dinner Party

In every period piece, the rich, the noble and the Royal often gather for an exquisite meal where etiquette reigns supreme. The intricacies of these high society dinners are complex, one foot out of line and you risk offending your guests. So how can we write them?

Place Settings

Perhaps the most complex part of a dinner is how the silverware, plates and glasses are arranged on the table. First the table is laid with a wool cloth to keep the white tablecloth in place. The tablecloth has to hang midway between the floor and the table. Every course has to have its own set of silverware, every course must have its own glass for the wine being served. Napkins are usually of linen, cut about twenty-four to twenty-six inches. Most tables would have centrepieces either of candelabras or flowers. This would be undertaken by the footmen under the eye of the butler.

Seating

Table seatings are just as important as anything for a dinner as it marks rank. The head of the house sits at the head of the table. The guest of honor sits next to the head and if they have a guest, say a friend, they sit on the other side of the head of the household. A spouse of the female guest will sit to the left of the host and the spouse of the male guest at the left of the hostess. Important guests are seated near the host or hostess. Other guests at the table are arranged by interests, usually near people they can speak with. Married or engaged guest generally do not sit with one another. Most dinners are arranged in a man-woman arrangement. Most dinners, especially formal ones, would have assigned seating.

Serving

In the dinning room, there are usually a collection of footmen and the butler to serve. The butler selects and pours each wine for the courses served. He serves the host first, working clockwise around the table with each footmen carrying either the sides, accompanying sauce or the meat/fish itself. In very formal settings, every guest may have their own footman to cater their needs. While waiting at table, the servants don't talk to the guests unless asked a direct question they must avoid avoid eye contact and offer the plate to the appropriate height so the guest can easily serve themselves. All footmen and the butler must wear white gloves while serving.

Timeline

Before dinner, guests gather in the salon or drawing room to have a drink and get settled before hand. Some houses served cocktails during this time. When dinner is announced, the guests will make their way into dining room with the men escorting the ladies they are seated with, following after the host in order of precedent. Most formal dinners had multiple courses, sometimes as much as twenty or so. After dinner, the ladies would leave the men to their drink and cigars while they take coffee in one of the drawing rooms. They would reunite after for some light conversation and entertainment.

Drink

There are strict rules involving drink. Most courses would have their own wine. White wine is served with the fish, red wine with the meat, and champagne or sherry with dessert. Port, coffee and other drinks such as curaçao would be served after supper. Wine would have had to be strained for sediment by the butler beforehand and decanted once opened.

Dining Etiquette

There are numerous rules to follow when is dining at a formal dinner right down to leaving the table or what you wear.

One doesn't sit until the hostess has been seated, the guests wait behind their chairs until she sits.

Men would pull out the chair for the lady to their right. Hands should remain off the table when not in use they should be ones lap.

Napkins are placed on one's lap but only after the host/hostess does, with the fold tucked at the waist.

As for silverware, one begins with the outermost pieces and work your way in for each course.

One only begins eating or drink when the host does. When the host/hostess stops eating, placing their silverware on the plate at the 10:20 position, everyone must stop eating.

When a lady rises, the men near her are expected to stand, pulling out her chair and pulling it in when she returns.

When being served, one is not expected to thank the servants.

When at a formal dinner, men would wear their whites and tails. At a less formal dinner, men would wear dinner jackets.

Married ladies would wear tiaras at formal suppers and all ladies wore gloves, removing them while eating.

[nightmareduckling]

For those of you know have no idea how fine dining works, here you go.

[votivecandleholder]

A Guide to Setting the Perfect Dinner Table

New Post has been published on https://dinnertables.net/a-guide-to-setting-the-perfect-dinner-table

A Guide to Setting the Perfect Dinner Table

If your goal is to dazzle your guests and give them an exceptional dining experience, knowing how to properly set a table for dinner is a must! Not only does it elevate the ambiance of your meal, but it also sets the tone for the evening ahead. Over the course of this discussion, we’ll explore the importance of table setting for a great dining experience and provide you with tips and tricks on table setting etiquette, dinner table decor, and table setting inspiration. If you’re a seasoned host or new to entertaining, this guide will assist you in setting an impeccable dinner table that will be the talk of the night!

Basic Elements of Setting a Table

Setting the perfect dinner table is easy with a little guidance! To get started, make sure you have the basic elements: placemats, plates, utensils, glasses, and napkins. But don’t stop there – make sure you’re selecting the right dinnerware, flatware, and glassware for your table. Match your placemats or tablecloth with the motif and style of your table arrangement, consider the size and shape of your plates, and organize utensils in the order they will be used, from the outside. When it comes to glass vessels, choose the appropriate glasses for the drinks being served and place them in the correct position. Napkins can also add a touch of elegance when folded creatively.

Beautiful Table Arrangement

You can create a beautiful and functional table arrangement by learning the basic elements of setting a table. Don’t forget to have fun and experiment with different designs and color schemes to find what works best for you!

Formal vs. Casual Dining

Dinner party coming up? Not sure if you know how to properly set a table for dinner gatherings? Don’t know whether to go with a formal or casual table setting? No problem! There’s no right or wrong way when it comes to structuring a table, and you can customize your arrangement to suit your needs.

For formal occasions like weddings or holidays, go all out with an elegant and eye-catching centerpiece and white or cream-colored tablecloth. Arrange the glassware in order of use and exhibit your attention to detail. On the other hand, for everyday meals with family and friends, a casual table layout will do just fine. Keep it simple with a relaxed centerpiece of fresh flowers or candles, a fun-patterned tablecloth, and less structured flatware and glassware arrangements.

Formal Dinner Party

Remember, no matter the purpose, the key is to make your guests feel comfortable and welcome. With a little creativity and some glassware arrangement tips, you can establish a beautiful and functional table setting. So go ahead, enjoy, and arrange that table!

Table-Setting Etiquette

If you’re planning a formal dinner party or simply want to show off that you know how to properly set a table for dinner events, knowing the proper table-setting etiquette is essential.

The proper order of utensils, glasses, and napkins is indispensable to table-setting etiquette. Depending on the occasion, each item should be placed in a specific order to ensure a cohesive and visually appealing table setting. The seating arrangement is another vital part of table-setting etiquette. It’s important to ensure that attendees are satisfied and can have enjoyable conversations with each other. Lastly, proper table manners are necessary for creating a pleasant dining experience for everyone at the table.

Setting The Perfect Floral Dinner Table

Prepare the table confidently and take pleasure in the evening with these table-setting guidelines that will surely shape up a wonderful atmosphere for your and your visitors.

Table Décor

We all know that hosting a dinner party can be a lot of work, but seeing the people you invited enjoying themselves is worth it. A crucial part of the party planning process is making sure that your table looks inviting and attractive

The perfect table decor can make all the difference in organizing the mood for your dinner party. Centerpieces are a fantastic option that can add elegance and color to your table. Be sure to consider the size and shape of your table when selecting your centerpiece and think about fresh flowers, fruits, or greenery to add a dash of life to your table. Candles are also a popular choice to forge a warm and cozy vibe, just make sure they’re unscented so they don’t clash with the delicious smell of your food.

Visually Appealing Table Setting

In addition to centerpieces and candles, place cards, unique napkin rings, elegant table runners, and small favors are all fun and creative ways to add a personal touch to your table. Remember to choose decor that complements your table arrangement and matches the style of your party.

That’s the gist of it! We’ve covered everything you need to know about how to properly set a table for dinner parties. From the basic elements of table setting to the proper etiquette for formal and casual dining, we’ve provided tips to help you create an unforgettable and delightful dining experience for everyone invited.

Conclusion

Keep in mind that table decor is a crucial component of setting the tone and ambiance of your event. The importance of table setting should never be overlooked when hosting a dinner party or special occasion. Take the time to set the table perfectly and you’ll be rewarded with a fantastic moment!

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP: Professional Protector of Love

Danny Fenton moves to Gotham to start a second branch of Fenton Works. At least on paper, in reality, he is there to try and fulfill his obsession now that Amity Park has become too peaceful once he was officially crowned king.

His parents had been overjoyed he wanted to help the family business grow. They had been super supportive the day Danny revealed he was a halfa to them.

His dad even sat him down to apologize for all the hateful things he said about Danny through the years. His mom had been a little less vocal emotionally but she had also given him a deeply severe apology.

When they learned that Danny had been the one to save the town over and over again from invading ghosts, Jack jumped for joy that his son was a ghost hunter and a darn good one at that. They joined Team Phantom, keeping the world safe, and helped Danny hide his hero activities.

It really felt like Danny was part of the family business. It was a blast, even though they remained the town quacks for the first time Danny didn't mind. His parents knew he was a Halfa and they loved him anyway. That's all he needed.

When Clockwork came knocking when he was sixteen to explain that ghosts had chosen to follow the rules of conquest thus Danny was next in line for the throne, to be crowned at twenty, the Fenton's celebrated like Danny had been selected to the best Ivy schools. It meant a lot since realistically Danny didn't think he was getting anywhere with his grades.

His grades were terrible but Jazz helped him get his high school diploma by the skin of his teeth, and he was content with it. Once he graduated high school Danny felt adrift.

Amity Park hadn't been attacked in years due to him being announced as heir of the throne and no ghost would disrespect him by attacking his haunt. It was poor manners to attack the King. Ghost cared a lot about etiquette. Many of them existed because of etiquette.

The thing is Danny's ghost's existence depends on his obsession with Protection so when the ghost stops giving him something to protect Danny falls into his sub-obsession: love.

Sub-obsessions were like a secondary focus for ghosts. It was something that could grab their attention and even help them keep form but not as strongly as their main. It had its cons and pros like most things in life.

For one it wasn't as straightforward as the main obsessions. Protecting someone weaker in any situation was easier to physically do than trying to explain love and get it to appear in life. There are multiple versions of love, which makes things a little better, but Danny still has to depend on others for that to fuel him.

Danny likes to think of main and secondary obsessions in terms of running and jogging. Both got you to where you needed to go. One was just faster, and much more draining to do in the long run. The other took patience and tenacity but was rewarding over time.

The other notable characteristic of sub-obsessions was that they only appeared to ghosts who had an elemental core. Most had their common core- a core portraying to how a ghost came to be, either by death or being born in the Zone.

Danny was a rare few that had an ice core form around his common core. Most elemental ghosts were considered nobility in the zone and their rare appearance granted them special privileges.

One such privilege was attending high-class galas in the zone where he dined with the most important of beings. This was before he even knew he was going to be Ghost King.

It was at one of these Galas that he met Cupid- yes that Cupid- the ghost of love happily explained his Sub-Obession after his own core recognized a kinder spirit. Cupid said that if Danny could not be part of the love he could help others find the different ways love worked and that would help hold him over.

It was a challenge but Danny figured he could use the Greek words of love to help him satisfy his obsession.

He found that if he let his core guide him, the answer to any form of love issue would appear to him. Like his ghost breath activating, it was his sight of people who glow in different colors, telling him what type of love they were currently feeling.

Eros: romantic, passionate love colored red.

Philia: intimate, authentic friendship colored yellow

Storge: unconditional, familial love colored green

Philautia: compassionate self-love colored blue

 Agápe: empathetic, universal love colored white.

Danny wanted to keep his secret identity as Phantom under wraps openly told being he could see "auras" that explain what to do.

Some called him crazy like his parents, but that changed the day after Danny spotted the soft red mixed with a chipper yellow glow around Dash and Kwan. He had pulled both individually to the side to talk about it- Kwan had been less hostile than Dash on his meddling- and only after successfully making them confess and start dating did people notice.

He became known around Casper High as the go-to person whenever they needed advice in any relationship. He even helped Sam finally connect with her parents.

Danny had a gift for it- and whenever he made them feel more love of any kind the more powerful did he feel. It was the same rush as rescuing someone but darn if it didn't have a kick to it. And everyone in Amity Park starts tripping over themselves to talk to him and hear his opinion on the issue.

Sam jokingly told him to start charging people. Tucker took the joke as gospel and created him an email and an online store. He had linked Danny's store to Fenton Works- since the business license was so open-ended- and Danny Fenton, Professional Protector of Love worked under Fenton Works before they finished their junior year.

Danny adored working as a protector of love, but his main obsession needed fulfillment so Jazz suggested a move. Take his love work to the most dangerous city in the county. Protect people by night as Phantom and by day give the downdraught citizens some help in bettering their relationships.

His parents helped him pick out a store with an apartment on the top floor, Tucker as both tech support and a clerk for his small store section of Love Charms, while Sam joined up as a receptionist.

His two best friends were going to be his roommates while they studied at Gothum U for their degrees. He would pay them but until he had a solid client base it wouldn't be a lot.

Both seemed fine with the arrangement since Danny was letting them live rent-free with their own rooms.

Jazz and his parents remained in Amity Park but they swore to visit whenever they could.

It took seven months of work but the store was ready- he styled it to look like ancient Greek Cupid-inspired decore. He also had to get all the legal work out of the way and get familiar with the city before he tried to depute as Phantom.

He figured that for now he could stick to protecting humans from ghosts, vengeful spirits, and the busload of curses that cluttered Gotham. Danny would leave human crime to the Bats while he settled. He would step in if he happened upon a situation but he wouldn't go out of his way to find it.

"Danny, do you need anything for the aura reading?" Sam asks typing away at her desk computer. She took her job seriously. Tucker was typing away on his personal laptop, likely working on some homework. "The first customer is already in the consultation room."

Danny adjusted his pure white suit with small colored lines. He had it specially made to have all the colors he saw in love as his uniform. He wanted to give off the Prince vibe of his ghost status.

"I'm good!" He calls back to her, walking down the soundproof room- to give his clients the privacy they deserve- and giving his best professional smile at the boy sitting on the plush couches inside. He designed the room to look like a Greek palace and he hopes the others appreciate.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne. I hear you need professional help with protecting the various types loves in your life?"

"Tsk." Damian Wayne, in all his twelve-year-old glory, raises his chin. "I am capable of protecting them just fine. I merely... need further information on how to show my fondness is all."

Damian glowed green- which meant he needed help connecting to his family or at the very least learning how to talk to them. Danny's smile widens. "You came to the right place for that. Let's start the ready yeah?"

[rileyslibrary]

Be gentle, man!

Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)

Notes:

This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.

———————————————————————

The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.

But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.

For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.

Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.

On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.

“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.

As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.

He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.

Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.

You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.

As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.

The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.

You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.

“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.

“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”

“... in for a fucking pound.”

“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.

“Apologies, darling.”

You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.

Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.

“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”

Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.

“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”

You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.

The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.

With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.

“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”

You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.

Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.

“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.

“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”

You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.

Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.

“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.

“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.

You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.

Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.

Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.

Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.

“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.

Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”

Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”

You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.

“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”

“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”

Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.

“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.

Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.

“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”

———————————————————————

[thesecretsofthedivine]

Pick a Pile Reading | Details About Your Future Spouse ⚖️💝

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*Disclaimer: This is a collective reading — take what resonates and leave the rest. If this resonates with you, please show support by reposting (with credit), tipping, or booking with me! :)

*Exchanges with other intuitives/readers are available via dm’s

PILE 1 COLLECTIVE

[ old money ] [ athlete/athletic build ] [ family-oriented, especially with their mother ] [ fluffy, curly hair ] [ brown hair ] [ looks good in/often wears the color blue ] [ will enjoy making pinky promises or playing with your hands ] [ tall for their gender ] [ mediterranean or european background, possible greek or british ] [ charming ] [ talkative ] [ golden retriever ] [ PDA ] [ almost always wears sneakers/tennis shoes ] [ gets along well with your friends & feminine energies ] [ conventionally attractive ] [ notting hill movie ] [ spontaneous first meets, maybe during a trip abroad/after moving to a new place ] [ gemini, sagittarius, capricorn, leo placements ] [ is very knowledgeable about culture, wines, fine dining, etiquette, etc. ] [ woodsy scents/would love to drink alcohol by a fireplace somewhere cozy, especially scotch or something old school ]

PILE 2 COLLECTIVE

[ enjoys orchestra/classical/instrumental music ] [ creatively gifted, especially in singing or photography ] [ likes to stay organized/clean ] [ gift giving as a love language ] [ nicknames that make you feel like royalty, “princess/prince” or “god/goddess” ] [ playful teasing ] [ fire sign, scorpio, aquarius, libra, cancer placements ] [ enjoys writing & keeping a journal ] [ homebody but somebody with status/notoriety & success ] [ using you as their muse on social media/in careers ] [ dyed hair for people attracted to feminines, especially pink ] [ manic pixie dream girl complex ] [ “you’re different than the rest” ] [ opposite aesthetic as you ] [ the great gatsby movie, especially jay & daisy’s attraction ] [ an old soul ] [ cynical and reserved humor ] [ light hair for people attracted to masculines, especially dirty/honey blonde ] [ somebody that i used to know — gotye ] [ a person you share a past/past life with ] [ the letters a, e, r, t, i, l, and n ]

PILE 3 COLLECTIVE

[ spiritually gifted/self-aware ] [ 9h, 12h, 1h, 3h, 5h placements or synastry ] [ optimistic ] [ teaches you how to connect to nature ] [ sent to you by your guides/ancestors ] [ in touch with their feminine side ] [ empress in tarot energy ] [ roots for the underdog ] [ enjoys investments & humanitarian work ] [ well-spoken ] [ amicable ] [ compatible political affiliations, but they may expand your understanding of the world ] [ wears jewelry ] [ would love to get matching tattoos or wear matching clothes with you ] [ manifestation/spell work is a factor in this romance/one of their hobbies ] [ wants to build a home out of you ] [ provider ] [ sensual ] [ connected to their inner child & may like to watch disney/nostalgic movies, especially frozen ] [ a huge cuddler ] [ winter birthday for some ]

PILE 4 COLLECTIVE

[ flexible or enjoys dancing ] [ aesthetic hands ] [ a lover of the arts ] [ soft or quiet voice ] [ socially anxious ] [ remembers the small details about you ] [ impresses your family/mother upon first meet ] [ has a cat or younger sibling for some ] [ lets you paint their nails or practice makeup on them ] [ short hair, may sometimes get perms or curling techniques ] [ thin frame ] [ infp/infj/intj/intp/etc type of personality ] [ indie or soft pop music lover, especially clairo ] [ soft kisses ] [ prone to blushing or avoiding eye contact ] [ pale skin ] [ talks about you to their best friends ] [ karaoke/comedy clubs ] [ graham crackers ] [ strong perfume, especially floral/rose ] [ height difference/size kink ]

[sasayego]

handle it

prompt — dick grayson’s the golden boy. kind and generous and selfless when it comes to everyone around him. but with you? his girlfriend who just had to wear that dress in front of your coworkers? at a business dinner, especially when he knows one of your coworkers has a crush on you? fuck no. dick grayson’s gonna be as greedy as he wants.

tags — smut, semi-exhibitionism, dirty talk, consensual slapping, spanking, female reader, bruises, breeding kink

“babe, if you wear that dress, i’m not gonna be able to handle myself,” dick whispers in your ear as you step into the car. it’s a golden dress he’s given to you and he’s got fabulous taste. it’s backless and the straps are by the shoulders with a sweetheart neckline that shows off your chest perfectly. the dress hugs to your waist and sways along your ankles.

you’ve done your makeup and you look so pretty. you know your boyfriend is staring at you for a reason and it just makes your heart flutter. three years and he doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re the sun and he’s icarus.

you entwine your fingers with his and smile at him, blushing. “wait til after the dinner, sweetheart,” you tease. it’s a business dinner and you’re really excited for it. if you play your cards right, your boss might promote you.

he looks at how twitchy you are and smiles gently, but there’s something else in his blue eyes. he’s feeling more than he lets on and there’s a shiver in your throat.

when you finally reach, you’re glad he wore a tux and you a dress. the place is fancy, with different courses and proper dining etiquette. thankfully, your boyfriend grew up with the rich and wealthy and guided you through everything you didn’t know. he’s always glad to be a knight in shining armor for you.

“dick,” your boss says, sipping some of her wine. “how long have you and y/n been dating? when are you gonna put a ring on her finger?”

“hold up—“ a coworker of yours stops midway. ethan. he’s always been a good friend, helping you out, buying you lunch. his jokes aren’t half bad either. “this is your boyfriend, y/n?” he raises an eyebrow. his tone sounds a little hostile.

dick places his arm on your waist and looks at him with raised eyebrows and a neutral look on his face. your boss looks at the two of you side to side and then nods slowly. “don’t you read the papers, ethan? y/n found herself quite the catch.”

“oh, one could argue that it was quite the other way around,” dick laughs, and his hand goes lower and settles on your ass. you squirm slightly but your boss doesn’t seem to notice.

“dick’s just a good boyfriend. he’s my everything,” you cheekily say and look up at him. you’re blushing so hard that your face is red.

“so, dick,” ethan begins. it sounds like an interrogation. “with all the social work you’ve been doing, you must not be at the apartment, huh? i mean, y/n has been staying over late with me at work,” he says smoothly. “you must not be at home often.”

dick stiffens slightly. “we’re around each other more than enough. well, i don’t know about her, but there’s never a thing such as enough when it comes to spending time with y/n.” his hand tightens around your ass.

ethan just sips his mimosa, his black eyes staring straight at dick. “i see. still must suck that your girlfriend spends such long and late hours with me. we have so much fun, don’t we, though?” he winks and grabs your shoulder with one arm and leans forward on you and you stiffen. you’re not so obtuse that you can’t tell that he’s flirting with you.

“work sure is fun with a coworker,” you emphasize. your boss is still watching this and she’s entirely amused, sipping on her champagne and not saying a word. something in ethan’s eyes say not for long.

“wait—my brother is calling. y/n, it’s about the thing.” and with not a single word, dick grabs your hand and whisks you away. you follow him blindly, stumbling through the bunches of people.

he suddenly shoves you into the nearby bathroom and you look up at him desperately. “who called? was it jason? is he okay—“

“you’re a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

your eyes widen when you realize what he’s doing. he locks the door behind him and steps forward, and you can see the heat behind his eyes. there’s a shiver down your spine. “what?”

he grabs you by the jaw and looks down at you. “wearing this fucking dress, and that shitty guy…” his voice trails off and he slams you against the wall. “you’re just a little whore, aren’t you?” he sneers.

you can feel yourself getting aroused by the words he’s speaking. god, this shouldn’t turn you on but it does.

“i bet you’re soaking wet. i bet that if i shove my fingers up that pussy, it’ll be drenched. you like that, don’t you?”

you can’t even find a proper response to that. your heart beats faster and then all of a sudden he’s grabbed you by the thighs and slams you against the wall. he grabs one of your thighs and puts it on his shoulder. “dick!” you cry out in surprise.

“shut the fuck up before i slap you. do you want people knowing what a desperate slut you are, getting your brains fucked out at a business dinner?” he shoves your dress all the way up your thighs. “you wear this fucking dress and he flirts with you and you expect me not to do something about this? you really are naive, aren’t you?”

“dick—“ he slaps you and you grab your face with wide eyes. you hear his zipper go down and within seconds, he pushes his cock inside of you. it’s long and a nice girth and stretches you out so well you might just die.

“what the hell did i say? i said shut up y/n unless you want your boss to see what a whore you are, desperate for my cock. that’s all you are, isn’t it? just a cock hungry whore who’s just a pair of good tits,” he coos as he starts ramming into you at a merciless pace. his finger entwines with yours and he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving a fresh hickey.

“oh my god—oh my—” you moan out, and as much as you want to bury your face in his neck, he purposely makes sure you don’t so it’s increasingly hard to muffle yourself. your moans echo off the bathroom walls and you can hear the music play in the main room.

he keeps moving his hips back and forth, hitting your g-spot mercilessly. “shit,” he tosses his head back, letting out a groan, “fit me so fucking well, pretty girl,” he groans. “‘s like you were made to fit on my cock. that’s all your good for, you know?”

you can’t answer, still lost in ecstasy. you can’t feel anything except him and it feels so good.

he slaps you again, your cheeks stinging red. “answer me,” he hisses. “say it. i’m a worthless greedy cocky whore who wants nothing else except to make me come.” he shoves himself so deep that there might even be a belly bulge.

“i’m a worthless cock whore who wants to make you come,” you cry out, and with that, he finds himself finishing so quick in you. his come stuffs you up and up, and you think that’s it but he lets you stand on the ground before grabbing your waist and shoving your stomach on the window.

he grabs your thigh and raises it up to his hip before shoving himself back into you and continuing his pace. his other hand squeezes your tits and he puts his mouth on your neck, dragging his teeth along your shoulders and neck. "jesus," he groans, tossing his head back, "i wish that shitty coworker of yours came in here to see you fucked dumb so he can see who you belong to." he slaps your ass so hard you bite down on your lip to hide your scream.

he takes his other hand, the one that's not grabbing your thigh up and squeezes your right tit so hard that it fucking hurts. you know your boyfriend enjoys a good fuck, but something primal has come out. all you can hear is the nasty sounds of his balls slapping against your ass, desperate to load another one in you.

"dick—dick—" you gasp, turning your head around to try to look at him but he grabs your jaw and glares at you.

"you like this, don't you? being fucked stupid while your boss is twenty feet away sipping mimosas and the guy who obviously has a crush on you is thinking about all the ways you'd look under him."

he groans again, and thrusts his hips out oncemore. another load in your stomach.

dick groans and looks at you. your hair is disheveled, your lipstick's been smudged against the window and your face and tits are all red. you take in a deep breath and turn around to talk to him when all of a sudden he grabs you by the hair and shoves you down on your knees.

"look at my pretty princess," he coos, but there's high levels of condescension there. "on her knees for me. it's like she knows her place. and stuffed with my cum, like she's desperate for my baby."

he whips out his phone and takes pictures of you, and if you were able to think a semi-decent thought you would've whined and complained at it.

dick finally puts his phone back in his pocket. in just a few seconds, that primal look is gone and he's back to the golden boy.

"you ready to go back out, sweetheart?"

[blushcoloreddreams]

A very small fine-dining etiquette guide

(Based on some rules I used to break for years)

Do not lift your menu of the table

The rim of the plate should be kept as clean as possible

Do not say you are going to the restroom, just excuse yourself and go

Do your best to always drink from the same spot of the glass to avoid ugly lip marks. This is valid even if you are not wearing lipstick

When in doubt the little black dress will save you. Btw a jacket is mandatory for the gentlemen. (They might not even let you in without one)

Do not clink. Real fine-dining places are formal and the less noise you produce, the better. This is not the place to fully manifest your vocal capacities

P.s. if this is your first time don’t be nervous

[m1d-45]

I don't know when, i don't know how, but SOMEBODY has ruined my day by giving me flashbacks of my most embarrassing moments from years ago.

Tongue frozen on the iron bars, check, had to alert the peeps to get the teach to bring hot water and she kept giggling at me.

The first time i tried proper kissing? Fucken awkward.

Accidentally mixing my coca cola glass with dads wine glass, and spurting it out with ews in a FUCKEN BUFFET?! FULL OF PEOPLE?! WHO TURNED TO LOOK AT ME AS MY FAMILY LAUGHED AT MY MISFORTUNE?!

Getting whacked in the head by a ball during gym class when a classmate threw it? AND they had the AUDACITY TO LAUGH AT ME! (And people wondered why i skipped that class-)

But honestly, i want schadenfreude and a creator x a hot guy (you can choose who, i'll take anyone at this point to ease me) with just these scenarios in mind, if you could.

i have found that even forced exposure can help with younghood embarrassment.

-🥘Stew

tongue tied

a/n: maybe this isnt what you wanted. maybe it is. idk i have writers block like you wouldn't believe man.

word count: ~6.5k

→ warnings: none? mention of alcohol and injuries but nothing awful or severe. just nice :]

→ g/n reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist >

diluc is a man with many skills.

he’s led the dawn winery for many years and have taken hundreds of shifts at the angel’s share, every item on the menu practically muscle memory by now. he knew the regulars and their typical orders, he knew the quickest way to strip mint stalks of their leaves, how to stack wine barrels most efficiently and how hot he could make his flames without getting burned, practically every skill he could reasonably need mastered when he was young.

…practically was the operative word, of course.

in business, it was practical to learn how to perfectly sign his signature. it was practical to know how to be diplomatic, practical to know how to properly tie a tie or check if a suit was fitted properly, practical to learn all of the skills he’d need to be the head of the dawn winery when he was young, so that by the time it was him sweeping a heavy coat over his shoulders for a meeting, he’d have every ability necessary to tackle whatever faced him.

but of course, his “training” didn’t cover more… personal things. he was too busy learning dining etiquette to know how to make small talk—that didn’t revolve around one party trying to get something from the other, that is. he knew how to set tables and properly pour wine, but his greetings were industry-approved stiff, responses a standard dialogue that he had nearly memorized. everything he said was mapped out in his head far before he’d say it, neatly laid out in his mind as he guided the conversation where he wanted it to go. efficient for formal meetings, but it left him… he didn’t like the word ‘lost,’ but it was the only one he could reasonably apply.

diluc set down the glass he was cleaning, picking up another to keep his hands busy. yes, there was a formal dishwasher hired, but he didn’t like being idle. he didn’t quite know what to do or where to put his hands, feeling a bit exposed without his coat. the bar provided a wide berth between him and any customers, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on the easy banter charles had with the patrons during his shift. it was like he was locked in an odd limbo between work and rest hours; without his gloves, vest, or other protective layers, all shed to prevent them from being stained in the case that something went awry, but still needing to keep face in front of others. he didn’t have his gloves to pull down, no comforting weight of his coat, his vision on a clip on his belt instead of the knot it usually hung from. everything wasn’t quite where it should be, and he was reminded of that every time he reached or twisted in the right way and the small spikes on top of his vision pressed through his shirt and into his side.

he felt… exposed. lost. and he didn’t know what to do about it.

he looked up as the tavern door opened, whatever expression he had before falling away as he was brought out of his thoughts. relax, he tried to tell himself, but it’s hard to believe that when one of the worst reasons for his confusion just walked in.

you.

archons, diluc was awful when it came to interacting with you. his heart beat too quickly and a shockingly large part of his brain thought that this meant he was in some sort of stressful meeting, all of his words coming out flat. while in its intended environment that would keep him from losing his temper or showing any weakness, in here it just made him feel more weak.

your head dipped. “master diluc, captain kaeya.”

and his brother certainly didn’t help the situation.

kaeya had turned when you entered, and greeting you with a sweeping arm and a cheery call of your name. “i didn’t think i’d see you so late; how kind of the heavens to bless me with your presence once again.”

diluc’s jaw tensed, and he traded glasses again. the pile of dirty cups was quickly dwindling, in no small part due to his own thoughts. he tended to be a bit quicker at the rhythmic movements of washing when he was caught up in his own lackluster abilities.

you laughed, taking the seat next to kaeya at the bar. all at once diluc was hyper aware of every action he made, from the change of towels to wipe off the water lingering on the cup to the smallest twitches in his expression or shifts in his weight.

“got caught up in some last-minute stuff, a coworker needed my help. i do hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

kaeya’s eye flashed, and he downed the rest of his drink before launching into a clearly fake story, talking about how actually, in the half hour or so delay in your appearance, the angel’s share was stormed by hundreds of fatui.

as if either of them would let that happen.

you played along, though, asking questions in the right spots and getting him to spin the story further. diluc exchanged his glasses again, doing a double take at the empty rack once he did.

that was far from ideal.

“-right, diluc?”

he looked up in an instant, eyes flicking about as he assessed the situation. clearly, he’d missed some part of the conversation, but what?

you, blessed you, had noticed his confusion, a smile on your face as you rested your hand on your chin, leaning on the bar. “i don’t know, would you really waste a bottle of dandelion wine like that? surely your claymore would do just fine.”

with a sharp swallow and a quick prayer—not that that would do much, knowing the archon he was praying to—diluc took a chance.

“of course i would. one bottle is worth it to defend mondstat, and it’s quite unwieldy to use a claymore in such a confined space.”

he fought a grimace the second the words left his mouth. his tone was too flat, his words uninteresting, certainly less entertaining than whatever fantastical tale kaeya had spun.

you nodded, and he could thankfully see amusement in your eyes. “how noble, master diluc.”

kaeya cut in, picking up his empty cup. “if you can spare a bottle for the fatui, then you can spare a glass for the cavalry captain, can’t you?”

he took the cup, but added it to the dirty rack alongside the one in his hand, taking a new one and wiping it to remove any water despite the fact that he knew there was none. archons, when had he gotten so…

he pushed away that train of thought, pulling out a bottle as he set the fresh glass down. “certainly not. wine is to be drank and paid for, that bottle was… an unfortunate accident.”

“my my, you’re no fun.” diluc poured his glass quickly—”not too much, not too little, okay? a little more, a bit… there, that’s good. well done, son.”—and moved it in front of him, pushing the cork back into the bottle with the heel of his palm. he set it back in its place, and noticed kaeya’s eyes on him as he took a sip.

no, not him, on-

“not worth a bottle, but worth a new glass? perhaps i am a hero after all…”

why was he unsurprised he noticed?

“i don’t want it to stain,” he lied, knowing damn well that stained glasses was something he was more than capable of handling. kaeya hummed, swirling his cup once before you prodded him about his day and he was back to his usual self, talking with significantly less grandeur than his tale from before.

diluc tried to pace himself, being extra meticulous in his cleaning, but there was only so many times he could twist a glass before he had to accept that he was done with it. an odd sort of dread settled over him as he reached for the last cup. today was a slower day, and he normally didn’t run out of cups until everybody was too drunk to notice how awkwardly he stood behind the bar. but kaeya was too smart to get properly drunk, you’d just arrived, and the night was far younger than he’d like.

he was cleaning too quickly again. normally, getting everything he needed to done with fast was a good thing, but now it just left him uneasy. charles didn’t have this problem, and he didn’t even clean glasses during the downtime. no, he struck up conversation with every single person that sat at the bar, no matter how downtrodden or celebratory. he was naturally friendly, always knowing exactly what to say despite the fact that diluc would bet serious mora on the fact that he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d say until the other person was done. if he thought about it… even kaeya had a script of sorts, a certain way to twist the situation back in his favor, but he managed to talk to people just fine. no, that wasn’t the problem.

the clatter of the cup in his hands on the drying rack pulled him from his mind. he shouldn’t be zoning out so much on the job, but what took his attention first was the fact that he was now seriously out of tasks to complete.

…beautiful.

“diluc? is everything alright?”

it’s your voice, surprisingly, that asks for him, and he fixes his expression in the split second it takes to look at you instead of the glasses. his mind reaches, grabbing the familiar sentence that must have left his lips a thousand times.

“everything is as it should be. why do you ask?”

a defense of his position, dismissing any ideas of weakness, and a prompt as to why that line of thinking was in discussion at all. part of him recoiled at the idea of treating you with the same recited lines he did a business partner, but he genuinely didn’t know what else to say. he was distracted, to come up with another acceptable response would make him hesitate, which would set off yours or kaeya’s alarms- or both, if he was particularly clumsy with his speech.

“did the glasses offend you, or something? you’re glaring.”

and yet, despite his prerecorded reliability, he is at a loss once more. genuine inquiries about his well-being were rare in the spaces he typically interacted in, and it didn’t help that he was still stuck in work mode.

“…they have not,” he decides, picking his language carefully. “i am simply thinking about something else.”

horribly vague, and would almost certainly warrant a follow-up question. before you even opened your mouth, he knew what you’d say.

“what are you thinking about? do you need help?”

the second part was a shock, but he blessedly had an answer for the first. “nothing important. it will be handled in due time.”

kaeya raised a brow, and diluc pointedly ignored his questioning look. it wasn’t often that he resorted to diplomatic language in the presence of civilians, but you… he could never quite think right when you were around. he could only hope you never misinterpreted his odd words as mistrust.

you hummed, changing the subject shortly after with a question about the vineyards, something about a particularly bad season for crops you’d heard from sara. he paused for a moment—an acceptable pause, he told himself, as most people did think before speaking—before settling on giving you an update on the winery as a whole. anybody that listened in would only find what they could learn by asking his workers, and no trade secrets were to be found in the fact that his grapevines were regularly checked.

with the slightest twitch of his hand, he realized he was speaking to you like a businessman again.

kaeya’s cup had emptied at some point, and diluc reached for the bottle of dandelion wine without stopping his sentence, a small nod from kaeya the only confirmation he needed to pull off the cork.

“the staff have been doing well, though this is shaping up to be a rather warm summer.” not that you asked, he notes, internally chiding himself as he pulls over kaeya’s glass. he considers swapping it for a new one to give himself something to do, but decides against it. he rattles off a few details about some dahlias that adelinde is trying to grow, how they keep seeming to wilt. he doesn’t stop talking to pour kaeya’s wine, eyes focused on his task as he continues talking nonsense about flowers. flowers. since when did he talk about the hobbies of his staff when asked about the vineyards?

he twisted the bottle as he pulled away—“this way any wine that drips will land on the back label. you don’t want the front to look messy.”—corking the bottle and forcing himself to finish this childish line of speech.

it wasn’t childish, not if you seemed genuinely interested, but any more and kaeya would have too much to leverage against him later. granted, he likely knew more about diluc than he’d like given how irritatingly good he was at reading people, but that was a problem for another day. for now, he let kaeya grab his cup on his own, wiping his hands of nothing as he waited for your response to what had certainly come off as nervous ramble.

your head tilted. “has she asked flora?”

“assumedly, or she had another worker do so for her. it’s not like her to let something rot like that.”

“that’s good to hear. and you?”

“pardon?” his hands had frozen, towel still in his hands, and he turned your words over in his mind. his reply had been instinctual, mostly to buy him time to think.

“how are you doing? don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear the winery is well, but you seem nervous.”

kaeya chuckled into his wine, and diluc’s jaw ticked.

“i am well, my apologies if i have worried you.”

“oh, alright… it can be hard to tell sometimes with you, i wanted to be safe.”

he knows. he’d meant his apology, but any sincerity was likely lost in whatever filter was placed between his mind and his mouth.

the air was awkward, and he didn’t know how to fill it. kaeya was looking at him, clearly expecting him to continue whatever tentative conversation was lingering, but he greatly overestimated diluc’s ability to do so.

he hung the towel back in its place, finally meeting his brother’s eyes. “behave.” they flicked to you, and his words were slower coming out. “make sure he doesn’t steal anything.”

you smiled, swearing on it even as the three of you knew kaeya wouldn’t do such a thing. diluc stepped out from behind the bar, grabbing a large serving tray and walking from table to table, collecting empty glasses.

maybe he was a coward for avoiding conversation- scratch that, he definitely was, but what was he to do about it? talk? that was already established to be off the table, and one could not typically make conversation without talking.

diluc shook off the topic, climbing the stairs to the second floor of the bar. all he could do was hope you didn’t hold it against him, or archons forbid think it were somehow your fault. hopefully you wouldn’t hate him by the time he managed to get his words in line with his thoughts.

diluc stared at the empty page in front of him, twisting the pen in his hand.

another skill he didn’t have. informal letter writing.

letters to merchants, fine, letters to buyers, he had a standard template for. letters to and from employees, informing him of upcoming leave or similar work related matters, all of this he was prepared for.

but this…

he sighed, watching as ink dripped onto the page, setting down his pen.

what did he say? what did he want to say? what was appropriate to say? you were rather close to his heart but how did he come across? would an inquiry about your well being be too forward? was a letter at all too forward? friends- no, you didn’t consider him a friend, right? or did you? how did people act around their friends? how did you act around your friends?

he tugged at his gloves, fiddling with the hem nervously. he’d finished most of his paperwork and had intended to take a break by writing you a letter, but… was it even a good idea? he- oh archons, he didn’t even know your address-

diluc crumpled up the paper in one hand, throwing it in the trash with the beginnings of an embarrassed blush on his face. writing a letter and not even knowing where you lived- he could count the amount of proper conversations he’d had with you that had progressed past basic small talk on one hand, and he wanted to write you a letter?

he covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. papers shifted beneath him but he didn’t pay attention, his thoughts in circles.

he wasn’t an idiot. he knew exactly why his heart picked up when you were around, why he had to default to more familiar speech to not make an utter fool of himself. the entire reason he’d tried to write you a letter was because he wanted to clarify his behavior towards you, to hopefully build a prior relationship with you instead of learning about you by proxy from your conversations with kaeya. yet, in his hurry to fix what probably wasn’t even broken to begin with—he knew of his reputation, in reality you probably weren’t at all surprised at his inability to make small talk—he’d forgotten the most important detail.

on one hand, he probably could ask kaeya, or poke around in other ways, but that felt disingenuous. if he was going to try and… for now he’d call it making a friendship with you, then he wanted to do it right. of course, he didn’t know exactly what ‘doing it right’ entailed, but… he supposed he’d just have to guess.

diluc had learned a considerable amount in his childhood, yet none of his lessons taught him how to pursue a partner.

diluc swept his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp with one hand and reaching for his vision with the other. with practiced movements, he undid the knot tying it in place, attaching it to the back of his other hand. he hooked his mask onto his belt and closed the door of his room behind him, walking down the stairs quickly.

“be safe, master diluc.”

“master kaeya has kindly informed us that the knights have a patrol for the whispering woods, so it would be wise not to stray too far.”

diluc paused at the door, mentally rearranging his patrol route with a nod. “thank you adelinde, elzer. pass on my gratitude, please.”

he pulled open the door to the manor, walking up the familiar trails and into wolvendom. his vision lit his path as his eyes adjusted, free hand affixing his mask to his face as he walked. since he couldn’t head as far north as he’d like, he’d settle for a loop around windrise and then one in wolvendom. not ideal, but it would have to do.

windrise was lighter than expected. a budding camp of hilichurls here, an abyss mage to the east (thankfully hydro, he’d been on a bad streak with pyro mages for a few days now) and a few slimes that got a bit too close to the merchant trails for his liking.

speaking of the trails, those were clean too. he snuck around springvale, keeping the hand with his vision on it tucked into his cloak to mask its light. hilichurls didn’t hang around this part of wolvendom, so unless he wanted to go shoving through wolf hook bushes for the chance to knock out a camp or two…

he looked between the two paths back to the winery. he could go through the gorge, or the typical way taken by his suppliers. the former was mostly guaranteed to have at least one or two monsters picking about, but it would be better if he cleared his trade routes…

it didn’t matter, in the end. he stepped out from the shadow of a tree, boot barely making contact with the dirt before he picked up the sound of another’s footsteps. heavy, quick, rapidly coming his way-

he summoned his claymore, turning north toward the sound, seeing a figure stumble from the bushes of wolvendom. they were wrapped in a too-thin jacket considering the weather, arm pressed to their chest. details were lost in the darkness, but he could see their head twist, how it snapped to him.

the figure waved with a shout to get his attention, and his heart dropped.

you. what were you doing up so late?

you jogged up to him, clearly out of breath, and he could see that you were holding an armful of unripe wolfhooks. “do.. do you know the way to springvale?”

by the archons, abyss, and celestia above-

“what business do you have there? it’s late,” he said, keeping his voice low. his hands trembled slightly in his gloves, eyes searching your figure for any injury. you had a nick or two on your arm, thankfully not bleeding, but everything else was obscured by shadows. you had clearly been running for quite a while, judging by how harshly you breathed, were you running from something? had you ran into trouble?

“i gotta get back to the city,” you explained breathlessly. “i kinda got lost in the forest.”

“lost?” his hand tensed around his claymore, the action reminding him it was still there. he dismissed it, crossing his arms to try and stabilize himself.

“long story, not worth telling.” you waved your hand, and he could see how it shook a bit. whether from adrenaline or exhaustion (both?) he knew he couldn’t point you toward mondstat in good faith. what if something happened to you? what if he’d missed a camp and you were attacked? you were weakened, tired, and his mind raced with all the potential injuries you could sustain just trying to go home-

“uh, stranger?” your hand waved again, this time to get his attention. “you with me?”

“the city’s too far. you’re better off seeking shelter at the dawn winery just up the road.” what was he saying? “besides, you could be injured, and not be feeling the pain due to adrenaline. let me walk you there.”

his heart hammered against his ribs, every single way you could reject him and then some swirling in his head. he was a stranger to you, you were clearly scared by something, and he directed you elsewhere out of what, selfishness? he knew that springvale was likely closer, that someone would be up and willing to help, and yet he was asking to walk you to the winery?

“are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i’d rather not send you off when i’m not certain of your safety.” your eyes widened slightly, surprised at the care in his voice, and he forced his tone to flatten before you recognized him. “besides, the staff are friendly and willing to help. they’ll understand.”

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded, holding your wolfhooks closer. absently, he wondered if he had any at the winery. probably not, but he could likely ask-…

in barbatos’ name, how was he going to explain this to the staff?

“alright. lead the way.”

he turned before his expression could change, keeping his steps a bit slower than usual so you could keep pace easier. he wanted you inside as quickly as possible, obviously, but you had clearly strained yourself earlier. going quicker would only hurt you more, and it wasn’t as if there was any immediate threat. even if there was, he was confident in his ability to keep you safe. the trees lining the path were large, wide enough to protect you if trouble came up and he needed to use his vision.

he set aside that line of thinking, sparing a glance at you. you’d switched which arms held the wolfhooks, and in the more open light, he could see the small pricks on your skin where the points dug in. you winced when the fruit resettled, moving one away from your inner elbow, and he stopped walking.

“give me those. you’re hurting yourself.”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. we’re nearly there, right?”

“wolfhooks aren’t clean, you could get an infection. you’re supposed to harvest them with a basket and gloves, not carrying them bare armed.”

“you don’t have the thickest clothes either, what’s to say you won’t get hurt?”

diluc searched the small area of the path you were on, trying to find a compromise. his first instinct was to use his cloak, but his hair was tucked into the hood, and that with his silhouette would certainly give him away. his eyes caught on a tear in your jacket, just below the shoulder, and he held out his arms.

“use your jacket as a sling. it’s already torn from the forest, so it’s not the worst loss.”

firm solution, reasonable and immediate justification. he was doing it again, no matter how well it disguised itself as casual speech.

you gave in, thankfully, and he didn’t let the minor pain from the wolfhook’s points show on his face as you removed your jacket. it was as thin as it looked, and he found himself frowning as he helped you stow the berries inside.

still, it wasn’t his business. maybe if he were your friend he could suggest that you purchase a heavier coat, but… you were getting a new one anyway since this one was ruined, so that seemed like a null point to bring up.

he settled your stuffed jacket into your waiting arms, hands lingering for a moment to ensure your grip was stable. “better?” you nodded, and he began walking again. “good. and don’t forget to mention your wounds to the staff, the last thing you want is an infection from… why did you need wolfhooks?”

“bennett asked me to get some for him and his friend… i think razor is his name? but with bennett’s luck, he didn’t want to risk going in himself, so he asked me to help.”

diluc frowned. “why does he need wolfhooks?”

you shrugged. “he offered some mora in return, but i mostly accepted because i felt bad. his luck seems to ruin everything for him, the least i could to was try.”

“even at the risk of your own health?”

“the things you do for friends, you know how it is.” his hands twitched at his sides, curling into loose fists. did he? “but what about you? why are you out here?”

he thought over his answer carefully, mixing various bits of his typical sentences to craft a half-truth. it was getting easier, he noticed, but put that thought aside just as quickly as it came. “wandering, doing my part to keep the area safe.”

“that’s noble of you.”

it wasn’t. would you believe the same if you knew how selfish he was in his desires? he kept mondstat safe for himself, so that he could rest knowing he’d done what he could—he patrolled not out of some moral righteousness, but because it made him proud to know that he’d chipped in to the city’s safety, that he was handling threats the knights didn’t, that he could keep his staff, his brother, his life, keep you-

“have you considered joining the knights? i’m certain there’s some night patrols, and it would surely be nice to have backup.”

he almost responded, almost said that he was in the knights, at one point, before he remembered where he was. who he was. to tell you that would be too much, too much information and too much for you to identify him with.

when did he become so loose with his words? normally he was so uptight around you… was it the fact that you didn’t know he was him right now? did.. he seriously operate best under anonymity? archons, how weak was that, to only be able to say what he meant when you didn’t know anything? was he that socially inept? so desperate for a proper conversation that he’d nearly slipped a major part of his life to you, just based on an offhand comment? how pathetic was he?

he forcefully shut down that line of thought and grit his teeth, well aware it had been too long since you’d spoken. “i’ve considered it. it’s not for me.”

not an entire lie, at least.

you were silent, and he knew he’d ruined the atmosphere. crystalflies fluttered in the trees, lazily flapping through the air, but he couldn’t appreciate their beauty like he typically could. the walk all the way down to the manor was spent in silence, and aside from a minor stumble you had on a jutting rock, it was as if he was walking back on his own, as he typically would. he even began to reach for the doorknob, then caught himself and used the knocker instead.

it was weird. he knew the door wasn’t locked, yet he waited for footsteps to approach the door, seeing elder’s worried face greet him. “master diluc, are you-?”

elzer’s eyes found yours, a tiny hint of shock crossing his face before he settled it back into the same polite smile he always used when greeting guests.

“ah, my apologies. i wasn’t expecting visitors at such a late hour.”

diluc bowed his head in what he hoped came off as a thankful action. “my apologies for disturbing you.”

he explained the situation as swiftly as possible, elzer urging you towards adelinde to treat your injuries. the medical supplies were just inside, near to the door for the sake of diluc’s own health.

“and what of you, stranger?” elzer asked, a bit louder than necessary. “will you be staying?”

diluc sees you look up, understanding clicking in an instant. “no, i won’t,” he answers, “but i thank you for your hospitality.”

elzer reached for the coatrack, pulling down two, both his and diluc’s, keeping the door propped open and passing him his where you couldn’t see. “then let me walk you to the edge of the vineyards, in exchange for your chivalry.”

“it’s alright, thank you. have a nice night.”

“the same to you, stranger.”

the door closed, and diluc relaxed, clutching his coat close as he turned away from the manor.

that was too close. he shouldn’t have suggested to bring you here in the first place, and thank the gods that elzer was so quick on his feet. he’d completely forgotten that he would have to return to the manor as diluc at one point in his rush to get you here.

he ducked behind a tree at the edge of the winery, exchanging his cloak for his jacket. he folded it neatly, stowing his mask and gloves inside. he didn’t have his usual clothes on, but… he could make do. he’d lied before, he’d lie again… even to you.

his grip around his cloak tightened. especially to you. you had no business in his shady practices, in what he did in the dark. it was impossible to keep you entirely safe and sheltered, nor was that healthy or his place to do, but he could at least keep his darkness from encroaching upon your light.

by the time diluc returned to the manor, you had already been sent on your way to a guest room. blessedly, neither adelinde nor elzer were in the front room to make a remark to him about it, likely busy with other work or asleep themselves. he locked the door and hung up his coat, heading up to his room after a swift double check of the first of those facts.

he went about his night, changing into sleepwear and setting his boots by his bed, his vision on his nightstand. it was admittedly a little more difficult falling asleep than usual—were you comfortable? did you like the guest room?—but he managed, waking up with the sun. his routine was the same, but when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he paused, looking up at the guest rooms. it… was strange, to know you were here. he felt like he should be doing something, whether saying goodbye or good morning or-

he looked away and shook his head. or nothing. he wasn’t as close to you as you were to him, how did he keep forgetting that?

“is there a problem, master diluc?”

he turned, seeing adelinde setting down his breakfast on the table. “nothing at all, and thank you for the food. did you sleep well?”

“i was a bit late in going to bed, a strange guest brought us some worry.”

he smiled at the pointedness to her tone, “really? how odd, to have a visitor so late.”

her mouth opens, but another speaks before she does.

“sorry if i caused any trouble.”

he paused. blinked. took a moment to register the fact that he just heard your voice in his home.

then he turned, attempting a smile. “it’s alright. your being here is unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.”

you had clearly just gotten up, clothes rumpled and pillow creases along your hands. you nod, stepping closer, and he grasps for any viable threads of conversation.

“is the manor to your liking?”

“it’s beautiful.”

pride bloomed in his chest. “i’m happy to hear it. come sit, have some breakfast.” adelinde excused herself with a bow and he moved to pull out a chair for you, praying the action looked as natural as it felt. you accepted with a smile, and he pushes you in with relief in his when he sits. “she should return shortly with your food, apologies for the delay.”

“it’s fine,” you said, looking around the main room. he tries to find something else to talk about, already feeling the awkward silence set in, but fumbles. the last time he had someone at his table was with the traveller for the weinlesefest, and they and paimon mostly carried the conversation along. he only ever heads business discussions, or staff meetings, or interrogations, and this was certainly none of those.

“are you alright?”

he blinked away his frown, realizing too late he’d been glaring at his cup of grape juice. an instinctual response rose to his tongue, but he hesitated. maybe it was the early morning hour, maybe it was the genuine concern on your face, maybe it was the light of dawn streaming in from the windows that fell across you so delicately, as if it knew how beautiful you were.

he discarded that response, but exchanged it for another. “are you? adelinde told me you were injured.”

a lie. he hadn’t spoken with anybody about your injuries. archons, was this worse?

your smile grows. apparently not? “just a few scrapes,” you say, lifting your arm to show where adelinde bandaged you. “wolfhooks are a lot sharper than they look.”

“wolfhooks?”

you waved a hand. “i needed some for bennett, long story. don’t worry, adelinde gave me a basket for them.”

“that’s good to hear.”

and just like that, the topic was exhausted. did he bring up something else? how much was too much? what was even an appropriate topic? what did the average person talk about? not that you were average, he’d never dare-

he’s talked himself into a corner in his own head. how in teyvat did that happen?

“you’re frowning again.”

“my apologies, i’m lost in thought.” he was quiet for a moment, then continued, “a problem i’ve encountered before is more prevalent now.”

…it wasn’t the most eloquent of phrasing, but it should do.

“do you want to talk about it?”

does he? how would he even put this into words that didn’t make him sound… is pathetic the word?

‘i can’t talk right around you because i’m not used to talking with someone that does so in good faith’? yeah, that’s something a well-adjusted adult says.

“i don’t have the words for it,” he decides. “the words…” he takes a quick glance at you to gauge your reaction but regrets it just as fast, whatever he had to say next vanishing into thin air. it’s unfair, really, how pretty you are, his eyes fixed to yours. “t-they-“

adelinde set your plate down in front of you, blessedly saving him from the situation. “thank you for your patience. please let me know if anything is unsatisfactory.”

diluc grabs his cup as you thank her, turning away to hide behind the grape juice. he can’t even really taste it, focused on how clumsily he had spoken. were he anywhere else he’d surely be laughed out of the room, and he’s certain adelinde’s going to tease him for it later as it is.

“diluc?” he looks over at you again, keeping his gaze quick before he fumbles again.

“what is it?”

too harsh, too cruel, he’s being cold to you again-

“are you busy today?”

he thinks over his schedule. no meetings that he can remember, nor any deadlines. he’d prefer to finish up some forms sooner rather than later, but if you need him for something…

“no, i’ve got time. what do you need?”

“would you like to go to good hunter for dinner later today?”

he can only hope you accept his nod as an answer because between the knowing smile on your face and the bright blush on his, there’s no way he’s getting a word out.

[ask-lord-morgarath]

Greetings, commoners!

You have now entered the hallowed court of knowledge where I, Lord Morgarath of the Mountains of Rain and Night, shall deign to grace you with my impeccable wisdom.

Whether you seek advice on social graces, fine dining etiquette, the secrets of the upper echelons, or merely the trifles of your commonplace existence, you may humbly submit your insipid inquiries. I shall respond with the benevolence and eloquence befitting one of my exalted stature.

Remember, ignorance is bliss for none but the unrefined, and perhaps even the simplest minds deserve a glimmer of enlightenment in the presence of greatness. Strive diligently to prove yourselves worthy of my guidance, and for heaven's sake, do remember your station in life when you address me.

From the preposterous to the pedestrian, no question is too trifling for my superior intellect to dissect. Proceed with the utmost reverence, for enlightenment awaits those worthy of my attention!

---

Lord Morgarath's Guide to Everything

Hair (podfic)

Shoes (podfic)

Skincare

Jeans (podfic)

Sitting (podfic)

Rejection

Eyeshadow (podfic)

Banqueting

Midnight Snacking (podfic)

Brooding (podfic)

Fashion

Nonverbal Communication

Anxiety (podfic)

Gifting

~profile portrait art by @burnin0akleaves

[mtlibrary]

Collection Highlight: Handbook to London As It Is

Welcome to a new series on our blog where we highlight a book (or a number of books) from one of our lesser-known collections. In this post, we’re taking a look at Murray’s Modern London from our beloved London Collection. A collection dedicated to the past and present of all things London.

Samuel Johnson is famous for saying that to be bored of London is to be bored of life. This does not seem truer when looking at Middle Temple Library’s modest London Collection.

Every book reveals another layer of this old city making it new again. It would be entirely too much fun to talk at length about all the books in this collection, but I have chosen Murray’s Modern London, or Handbook to London As It Is (read the 1851 edition on Internet Archive).

If you happen to be thinking about journeying to London 1879, this is the guide for you. To begin with, it is a lovely little pocket-sized book. A woman of distinction can easily tuck this somewhere between her pleated ruffles, and it is a perfect fit for the pocket of a gent’s coat (you are travelling back to 1879 and therefore must dress the part).

It’s yours for the tidy sum of 3/6 (if you are a UK traveller from the distant future, you are of course familiar with that denomination, which came back into circulation in the 2020s…probably).  At 338 pages it packs a tight punch of information, beginning with this wonderful plan of London’s Metropolitan and Underground Railways featured on the frontispiece. It is markedly different from the Underground Map we are all familiar with, more in the shape of spaghetti than circuitry, but still valuable to those arriving in London 1879.

Before the guide proper begins, there is a handy list of subjects as introductory information.

As a librarian I am immediately interested in the list of boks about London and that is the section I turn to, enjoying a small list that includes Dickens’ Dictionary of London (read the 1882 edition on the Internet Archive.org).

Assuming that our time traveller friends are quite strange, they may wish to jump ahead to part 15, General Hints to Strangers. This part advises the best time of year to visit London 1879 are the months of May, June and July and recommends all that is available to see in the hustle and bustle of those months.

This section also includes Hints for Foreigners (come on 1879, do not disappoint me).

Murray’s Modern London tells the foreign visitor:

By the law of Great Britain all foreigners have unrestricted right of entrance and residence in this country; and while they remain in it, are equal with British subjects, under the protection of the law; nor shall they be punished except for an offence against the law, and under the sentence of the ordinary tribunals of justice, after a public trial, and on a conviction founded on evidence given in open Court.

London 1879 is unexpectedly more hospitable than one realises! Heartening! Better still is this polite advice:

Foreign money is not current in England, and an attempt to use it will expose the traveller to inconvenience.

Solid advice in any era.

The guide continues with directions on appropriate visiting hours, etiquette for lateness, dining advice and more. It ends with a very useful tip when it comes to navigating some of the streets of London:

Be on your guard about the confusion in the nomenclature of London streets; the “Post Office Directory” a few years ago recorded the existence of, in various parts of the town of 37 King-streets, 27 Queen-streets, 22 Princes-streets, and 17 Duke-streets, 35 Charles-streets, 29 John-streets, 15 James-streets, 21 George-streets.

There are of course plans and maps to help our time travellers find their way around, but there are no photographs of what awaits us in London 1879. This does not hinder one’s enjoyment of the guide one iota. It is a strangely charming little book, and one notices a distinct touch of restrained affection for the city; you can almost imagine an editorial moustache threatening to fly off a stiff upper lip from the employment of that restraint.

The guidebook is page upon page of delicious detail, be it on bridges, or markets, or churches, or parks, or breweries, water and gas companies…even sewage and drainage! There is an entire page of detail on the new drainage system of London, ending with only a small mention of the man who revamped the sewage system of London: The engineer of the Main Drainage is Sir Jos. Bazalgette.

You may think there’s simply no time to wax lyrical about Bazalgette in this guidebook which is just about the facts – there is so much to see, after all. You can think again as you turn the page and see a quote from Shakespeare’s King Richard III take up half a page in regards to the Tower of London.

 Poor Bazalgette; great people really are just disregarded in their own time.

The guide moves swiftly on, taking our travellers even through the old pits of London, which have collected the bodies of the dead since plagues of old. On the topic of Bunhill (yes, as in bone hill) Fields Burial Ground, the guide mentions that 124,000 dead bodies were interred there between April 1713 and August 1852, 5000 of which were disinterred and thrown into a pit in 1874 for building purposes. A page and half is all it takes to remember that London is a city built on bones.

Speaking of which! There is an excellent portion devoted to Eminent Persons Buried In London And Its Immediate Vicinity. The usuals are there of course, kings and queens, statesmen, artists and poets. Also included are actors and actresses. Yes, lawyers too. There is also a miscellaneous section, which includes one Will Somers, Henry VIII’s jester. This modern guide is not so modern it will taint its taxonomical arrangements by suggesting a comedian might also be an actor. Also recorded are Eminent Foreigners, one of whom is Isaac Casaubon who apparently studied so hard it killed him (this may not be entirely true, but is a good excuse for not studying too hard).

There is much more to enjoy in this guide, but legal London seems like the natural place for me to realise that you get it, I really happen to like this book.

Firstly, travellers to London 1879 find themselves in the presence of the new law courts in the Strand. The courts are not quite finished and it seems there were a few obstacles to get the building started, including all masons going on strike 1877-8, forcing contractors to hire foreign workman, chiefly Germans and Italians. Mentioned also is Westminster Hall, the Old Bailey Sessions House, Clerkenwell Sessions House, and other various courts before we finally come to the Inns of Court, “the noblest nurseries of Humanity and Liberty in the kingdom.”

We are guided into the Temple area through Spenser’s words:

Those tricky brown towers

The which on Thames’ broad aged back doe ride,

Where now the studios lawyers have their bowers,

There whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide,

Till they decayed through pride.”

Beautiful! The editor’s moustache must have flown right off!

The guide mentions two places in Temple worthy of a visit; Temple Church and Temple Hall. The glowing review of Middle Temple Hall is a little bit of a bittersweet read, as we who sit in the present know of the damage suffered to the Temple area post 1879. The roof is mentioned as the best piece of Elizabethan architecture in London, and also mentioned is the renaissance style screen, which the guide vehemently denies as being made from the spoils of the Spanish Armada.

The editor’s moustache spinning out of control, the guide points out that the exterior of the hall was encased in stone in 1757, in wretched taste. Mentioned too is the very first performance of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in Middle Temple Hall as is the use of Temple Gardens in a scene from Shakespeare’s Henry VI, Part I.

It is also pointed out that a re-enactment of said scene in the gardens would be impossible in London 1879 for such is the smoke and foul air of London, that the commonest and hardiest kind of rose has long ceased to put forth a bud in the Temple Gardens.

To complain about London is just another way to love London, eh Editor?

London, as viewed through this guide, is a composite of many histories and many sights, set out here in fine detail. There is so much on offer, so much to see, and this guide offers an array of interesting stats and facts to entice the visitor. I cannot imagine that our time travellers did not enjoy Murray’s modern London, in spite of its foul air.

___________________________________

Harpreet Dhillon Deputy Librarian

[clericofsune]

Piety Boons for DnD 5e: Sune

Sune is the Faerunian Goddess of love, beauty, and passion. She holds sway over the whims and desires of mortals, driving them to love, crave, and create. Her highest ranking priests and priestesses are known as Heartwarders. The Order of the Red Rose is her faith militant, which safeguard the temples and clergymen devoted to her. Though her primary sphere is love and beauty, she is also the patron of all artists and craftsmen, blessing them with skilled hands and wondrous imagination. In this way, she ensures that life is beautiful in all ways, and she pities any who would deny themselves of their passions out of fear or shame. Her two primary Exarchs are Liira, the goddess of Joy, and Sharess, the goddess of cats.

Her alignment is Chaotic Good. Sune values above all else freedom. Freedom to be, do, explore, and create whatever one pleases, and follow where their heart leads them. Even clerics devoted to the goddess are known to step away from the church to pursue other desires without ever incurring the goddess’ wrath. As the goddess of beauty, Sune abhors all things which mock and tarnish the beauty and pleasure that is a mortal existence. Fiends, undead, and anything rotted, diseased, or mutilated disgusts her. However, her anger can be misguided, such as her displeasure for scars and physical imperfections, which can cause her to come off as superficial and judgmental.

EARNING PIETY

Seek out and enjoy life’s pleasures and revel in your passions

Follow your heart wherever it may guide you

Compose or commission works of art

Impart knowledge of fashion, art, cosmetics, and etiquette to others

Destroy anything which tarnishes the beauty of this world or its people

Destroy armies which threaten the stability of the world

Restore and beautify damaged structures, landscapes, and communities

Bring lovers together, or help lovers overcome social obstacles to love

Build or restore a temple to Sune

LOSING PIETY

Deny yourself your passions out of fear or shame

Practice necromancy and other unholy arts

Tarnish the beauty of the world or the creatures within it

Willfully upset the balance of the world for personal gain

Willfully tarnish your outer appearance, especially through necromancy

Consort with Baalzebul, Ssendam, Evil Gods, other fiends, or undead

Condemn the love, relationships, and passions of others

Tear lovers apart, stand in the way of love, or deride the value of love

Destroy or desecrate a temple to Sune

PIETY REWARDS

3+ = You can cast Charm Person or Color Spray (choose only 1) 10+ = You can cast Hypnotic Pattern. 25+ = Friendly creatures within 30 feet gain +2 to their AC as well as their INT, WIS, and CHA saving throws. This includes you. 50 + = Increase your CHA or WIS by 2 and increase your max for that score by 2

SUGGESTED CLASSES

Artificer

Bard

Cleric

Paladin

Sorcerer

SUGGESTED BACKGROUNDS

Courtier

Entertainer

Far Traveler

Guild Artisan

Noble

SUGGESTED DOMAINS

Life

Light

Peace

Trickery

SUGGESTED SUBCLASSES

College of Creation

College of Eloquence

College of Glamour

College of Valour

Conclave of the Fey Wanderer

Oath of the Ancients

Oath of the Crown

Oath of Devotion

Swashbuckler Rogue

Archfey Patron

Celestial Patron

School of Enchantment

Divine Soul Origin

WORSHIP & FESTIVALS

A ritualistic morning bath in scented water is preferred, though if water or perfumes are scarce, a ritualistic washing of the hands can suffice.

Sunites that wish to commune with their goddess must stand in water and look into a mirror or reflective surface lit by natural light or candle light.

The Feast of Love is held every Tenday. Dine on exquisite delicacies, whether exuberant or humble as time and availability allows. Even just stopping to savor a pastry or a slice of cheese can suffice in the wilderness.

The Grand Revel is hosted once per month from dawn to dusk, with Sunites displaying artwork of great beauty, donning elaborate costume and hairstyle, performing beautiful works of music, dance, or recitation, or engaging in pageantry and showmanship. This event is open to the public.

On Greengrass, the first day of Spring, Sunites take their jubilations outdoors to engage in picnics, romantic strolls, amorous dalliances, playful chases, and public performances to celebrate the rebirth and liveliness of spring.

[art-of-manliness]

The Art of Manliness Guide to Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is this week here in the United States. Over the years we’ve published a bunch of articles, videos, and podcasts on how to make your Thanksgiving a holiday truly worth celebrating. We thought it would be helpful to put all that content in one place. Consider this your ultimate guide to the best, most enjoyable, most meaningful, most manly, and of course, most delicious Thanksgiving ever. From cooking and carving your turkey, to how to be a gentlemanly guest, you’ll find it here. Pull up a chair to this feast of content, browse through the subjects you need a refresher on, and you’ll be all set for this Thursday. Gratitude * The Spiritual Disciplines: Gratitude  * Podcast #945: The Japanese Practice That Can Give More Meaning to an American Holiday * Podcast #459: Beyond Gratitude Lite — The Real Virtue of Thankfulness * The Courage to Face Ingratitude * Sunday Firesides: Graduate From the Kindergarten Class of Gratitude * How to Fight Entitlement and Develop Gratitude in Your Kids Food & Drink * How to Cook a Turkey Video Series on YouTube * How to Carve a Turkey * Easy Cornbread Stuffing Recipe * 5 Holiday Cocktails to Warm Your Spirit * How to Turn Holiday Leftovers Into Delicious Stocks and Soups * Burn Off That Pie, No Equipment Necessary: The Stair Workout * How to Feast at the Holidays Without Packing on the Pounds Etiquette * How to Be the Perfect Holiday Houseguest * How to Be a Gracious Host * Dressing for the Holidays: Your 60-Second Guide * Dress Up for Thanksgiving This Year * A  Guide to Dining Etiquette and Proper Table Manners Entertainment * 6 Card Games Every Man Should Know * 100 Must-See Movies * Movies Every Millennial Dad Should Introduce to His Kids * 30+ Thanksgiving Jokes for All Ages * Throw a Football Spiral Like a Pro * 5 Winning Turkey Bowl Plays Hope everyone has a Happy Thanksgiving! The post The Art of Manliness Guide to Thanksgiving appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/Sz7xSX

[wutheringmights]

CTB Scrap - Dinner With Impa

This is another scrap from the opening to chapter 5 where Link and the engineer go off to battle together for the first time. This scene is meant to transition into the scene where the engineer tries talking to the child the night before.

I actually really like the idea behind this scene. We get a bit of a look at Link and Impa's dynamic while giving the engineer an opportunity to explain how his senses work.

I don't quite remember exactly why I didn't like this when I first wrote it. I remember being very frustrated with how this came out and being unable to figure out what was wrong with it. It was easier to cut it than try to make it work.

Note: this is an unedited scrap, so the writing may not be up to snuff. Also, everything include was deleted for a reason, so please do not take it as canon to CTB.

---

Link studied the engineer. He had been quiet since the night before. They both had a meeting with General Impa in the Sheikah headquarters sequestered in its own little corner of the camp. Dressed down in her traditional Sheikah robes, she balanced a precarious line between intimidating and inviting as they dined on a noodle dish common only in Kakariko. Her red eyes were like blades, but Link had seen the other side of them. When Zelda had gone into hiding, Impa had been the one to take his hand and guide him into becoming the hero. She was the one who drilled proper etiquette and wrung the commoner’s accent from his speech, who taught him how to think on his feet, who tore down his strategies until he built them to perfection. Hell, he was sure he wouldn’t even have a salary if she didn’t sit him down and show him how to negotiate for one.

 At first, Impa had kept their talk to what Link thought the Royal Guard’s strategy should be next. He may have been the hero, he was still only a common born captain. He needed her on his side if he wanted any of his strategies to be enacted. When they had exhausted everything that topic had to offer, Impa turned an eye to the engineer. “So Lincoln tried poaching you from right under our noses,” she said.

The engineer shrugged, turning his eyes away. He pushed his chopsticks around the biscuit drizzled with honey Impa had served them for dessert. It wasn’t a lot, but with all the rationing, it was the sweetest thing they’d had in a while. “Yeah, uh… I guess you can call it that,” he said.

She smiled indulgently. “Well, I’m glad you chose to stay with us. You are an exceptional asset for Hylia’s cause.”

The engineer tightened his mouth, but said nothing.

Link gritted his teeth. “He’s just nervous about the battle tomorrow,” he said, trying to both monitor Impa’s expressions and comfort the engineer. Sitting as they were on the ground, Link slipped his hand over the engineer’s floor cushion, finding his wrist. He held it, hoping it was enough.

Impa smiled. “That’s understandable. Approaching battles can always be intimidating, but as a hero, I’m sure you have had your fair share of defeating foes.”

The engineer shrugged. “Sure, but I’m really just a Royal Engineer.”

Impa picked up a teapot, taking a moment to refill her cup. The pause was oppressive, but Link knew better than to play into Impa’s tactics. He squeezed the engineer’s wrist tighter. “They say that many of the heroes of old were privy to special abilities granted to them by the goddesses. They could change forms, defy time, and even command the elements. All of these skills they used to ensure Hyrule’s safety. And I heard you have a skill of your own beyond being an engineer.”

Link frowned. He had mentioned the engineer’s abilities to the general in passing. He trusted Impa not to abuse that information, but he didn’t know where she was going with this.

The engineer shrugged, looking away. “I’ve always been able to sense spirits,” he said.

“So you have always been a hero,” she said. “A sixth sense is a valuable asset to have.”

“It’s…” He hesitated, making a soured expression. “I don’t really like calling it that.”

She raised a brow.

He sighed. “Saying its one sense is like saying it’s isolated. And that’s not really how it’s like. It’s more like all of my other senses are lighting up. I can recognize someone’s spirit by the sound it makes, or the taste it leaves in my mouth, or how it feels—or any combination of it.” He twisted his arm enough for Link to think he wanted him to let go. But when he did, the engineer grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place. It wasn’t the hand with the Triforce mark, but the engineer still swiped his thumb over the back of Link’s hand in soothing, rhythmic motions.

What did the engineer sense when he was near, Link wondered. What was his spirit like?

“It’s not—I just don’t really think it’s as helpful as you think it is,” the engineer added. “At least, not the way it is back home.”

“Satiate an old woman’s curiosity,” Impa said. “How is my spirit?”

The engineer looked at her for a long moment. “There’s shadows around my vision,” he said. “And there’s a taste in my mouth—I don’t think I’ve ever had it before. It’s really spicy.”

Impa nodded, lingering in another moment of tactical silence.

The engineer winced, almost dropping his chopsticks. This has happened enough times now that Link knew what that expression meant. The engineer let go of Link’s wrist as he stood. “Thanks for dinner, but I need to get going now,” he said.

The corner of her lips twitched, but she managed to smile. “Of course. You need your rest for tomorrow.”

“Great. Thanks!” He hurried off, barely remembering to give her a sloppy salute before fleeing through the tent’s flaps.

A moment later, he rushed back in. “Sorry, let me just…” He took the honeyed biscuit off the plate, wrapping it up in a handkerchief he pulled from the pockets of his jumpsuit. He gave them both a grin and a second, more purposeful salute. “Thanks!”

And he left again.

 Impa and Link sat in silence for a while—first, expecting him to run in and steal more food. Then it was to make sure he was far enough away that they could both talk frankly. Link sipped at his cup of tea, resisting the urge to grimace at its grassy taste. The drink itself had a pale green color that reminded Link of falling asleep on Hyrule Field’s grassy knolls. He didn’t know how Impa enjoyed drinking this, but it was a traditional Sheikah beverage.

“He seems like a gentle soul,” Impa said at last.

“He’s shy.” Link placed his cup on the table. “If you have any questions for him, direct them to me first. He’s my subordinate, and I don’t appreciate you trying to interrogate him.”

“You’re too sensitive, hero. It was professional curiosity.”

He glowered.

Impa pushed back the billowing sleeves of her robe, enough to give her hands the freedom to push through her white hair, adjusting pins back into place. “Lincoln ignored the boy’s wishes and put in a request for his transfer,” she said. “He didn’t get it, but I admit I was curious as to why the Master Knight wanted the engineer so badly.”

Link’s blood was loud in his ears. “He just wants to screw me over,” he spat.

Impa gave him an unimpressed look. “We both know he’s not like that,” she said. “Dislike him as much as you want, but he’s the Master Knight for a reason.”

Link thought back to the night of the party, walking through every beat of their conversation. Distinctly, he recalled the way Lincoln scrutinized the engineer, biting like a fish on a hook onto the idea of him being a royal engineer. “It wasn’t his spirit abilities, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said. Sighing, he rose to his feet. “Thank you for dinner, Impa. I appreciate you meeting with me, and I won’t overstay my welcome.”

Impa gave him a knowing look. “You take care of that boy tomorrow. First battle’s always the hardest.”

Link waved her off. “Will do, general.”

When Link left the tent, he was unsurprised to see things.

[aineryeo]

The Start of The Moment

Synopsis: Kyojuro asks about your conviction and reason for wanting to marry him so badly.

Themes & Warnings: Coming-of-age, Slice of Life, Lighthearted Romance, Graphic Violence due to Setting, Heavy Canonical References (Theoretical calculated age to fit into the present time in the anime), Spoilers, Eventual Smut, Kind of Slow Burn, Domestic Violence (Verbal/Physical) because Shinjuro. (18+) Also, you meet Akaza, so make of that as you will. → AFAB! Reader.

Chapter Author Notes: The soundtrack for this chapter goes well with lover's oath, once it finishes you can play this. Also going by the events that would unfold, i think it fits. Though I'm thinking twice about it purely because I want to write my Zhongli fic revolving around that soundtrack and i dont want to reuse songs but aaa it's so good

Marry me first! (먼저 결혼해줘) — Series Masterlist (Age Guides, Playlist, Gallery/Picture References, Terminology List.)

Chapter 2 « Chapter 3 (Current) » Chapter 4

When you were a child, as far as you could remember, your mother would always tell you to act appropriately so that you could marry and be happy with a husband that would take care of you. But to do that, you must behave in many a-certain ways to appease them and make them choose you among the many other girls. But every time she brushed your hair, telling you of your responsibilities, you cried and whined. You thought she was a very traditional woman now that you’ve grown a little older. 

Already giving you pointers, grooming you to be the ideal woman, just as her mother did to her. For a while, you didn’t protest, it was all normal, and you had no views of the world. But after a few more years, you started developing a liking towards running around your village, meeting friends, and playing with them while that ‘play’ turned into roughhousing that would get you home in trouble for dirtying your pretty kimono once again. At first, your mother would be gentle, but as it kept repeating, her frustration bubbled up, and she would start being truthful.

“You’ll never be happy this way. No one would like you!”

“Stop hanging out with those poor boys. You’re destined for much greater.”

“You soiled your kimono again? Stop being such a burden.”

You’d feel anger, sadness, shame, and rebellion build up every time she would say that. But maybe the most challenging part for you was that when she told you those things, she would take them back later on and then hold you dear like a mother would, caressing your hair while apologizing. Then it would be okay for a few hours that remained for the day. The next, it would be the same. Your father, though, you remember him having a really fantastic job. He’d be really great at fighting! You’d see him train himself harshly, then sometimes, a few strangers would come by saying they were to be trained by your father as well.

He was a busy man, but you admired him greatly. He would bring you snacks when he came home late, sometimes for weeks to months. When he was busy training the strangers, you would get a stick and try to copy their moves before your mother would see and drag you back inside so you could practice dining etiquette and reading. The one time he saw you trying to copy their regime by the bushes in your garden, which was connected to the open area where they were set, he had a broad smile on his face before he carried your small figure by your armpits, stuck in one hand, and then plopping you beside one of his trainees who smiled at you despite looking incredibly exhausted.

“Okay, my daughter will be joining us today. Greet her, everyone!” He would say, lively, with a booming voice. A katana resting beside him on the wooden porch.

“Nice to meet you. (はじめまして; Hajimemashite.)” Everyone would say in unison, facing to the side where you were with gentle, tired faces.

You were nervous, and you held your stick close to your chest with wide eyes that stared back at all the people looking at you before you bowed in greeting.

“P-please take care of me!! (宜しく; Yoroshiku!!)” You would yell back.

You just experienced an extremely grueling exercise. After the introductions, your father made a hum of approval before yelling: “Begin!” to all of his trainees. And for that time, that meant you too. You were beyond surprised when he said that you would swing your sword a hundred times properly and that if you messed up, you’d have to do it again! You thought you’d die. And you thought you’d already swung your sword (stick) five hundred times before your mother came to fetch you, calling out your name. Your father gave a small chuckle towards you before beckoning you over to your mother, who was furious when she saw you sweating so much.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before your father told you to start. But whatever! You swung your sword (stick) one thousand times or would yell at your father, who teased you for it. Your mother would yell at him before cleaning you up, returning to prancing with duties she deemed fit. 

You remember her teaching you how to cook. Still, after you did a donburi for the first time, she said something about putting in too much meat and that the meat itself was not very tasty. That was a few years later, but your father would take the bowl of donburi from your mother and eat the whole thing without batting an eye. Hovering over you and asking for seconds with a few pieces of rice stuck on his face, a thin sheen that was his stubble, soiled with a few remnants of the sauce while your mother would nag him for being such a mess.

That may be why you think of cooking Kyojuro a meal right now in the Wisteria residence.

You kindly ask the lady of the house, who didn’t seem too old, to allow you to assist her in the kitchen, reluctant for a while as you should be resting. Your shin and your ankles were wrapped heavily in bandages, you don’t have broken ribs, but your legs were affected. Which was hard because your whole technique is centered around your legs. But you would manage since the doctor said that it would recover, giving you an ointment that would minimize the appearance of scars and help it heal faster. The sun was high in the sky, and a bright, clear blue atmosphere created a peaceful environment after a heavy first mission.

Kyojuro didn’t choose to rest, as he was already training outside so he wouldn’t grow weak, his words, not yours. So when you went out to call him for lunch, you would see that he was already soaked in sweat with his katana in hand, swinging it for the umpteenth time that noon after his intense run. At first, he didn’t hear you, so you had to come out from peeking from the wall to move right in front of him. The moment he sees you, he stops swinging his katana and catches his breath before greeting you kindly.

“(Name)! Good afternoon!” His short ragged hair stuck to his forehead.

“It’s time for lunch!” You replied, your hands cupped in front of your mouth to increase your volume.

“You felt what crunch? Is it painful? You should call for the doctor!”

You ignore what he says and grab his wrist, dragging him to the dining area. His mouth is left open in shock while you do so; he scrambles to put his blade back into the sheath while he stumbles and follows your figure.

“Oh, lunch!” He says while he motions to sit down, his katana sheathed beside him now.

You sit down in front of him; the piping miso and the sweet potato donburi sit steaming on the table, both your chopsticks next to your bowls. It had a soft-boiled egg cut in half above the sliced sweet potatoes that took the place of meat because the lady was supposed to go to the market later that time for more ingredients, leaving you to cook with what you had. The roasted sliced sweet potatoes were seasoned in umami paste that you saw in a jar, smelling its rich scent. Then beneath them, just before the rice that was seasoned with sesame seeds and other spices, all the same, were slaws of cabbage. The whole bowl was topped simply with green onions.

Kyojuro’s eyes seemed to have sparkled at the sight of lunch, which led you to think that he must’ve been starving. You both pray. First, Kyojuro looks more excited, his hands quickly slapping together in prayer before you both close your eyes in silence until he puts his head up and yells, “Thanks for the food!!! (いただきます：頂きます, Itadakimasu!!!)”

“I cooked lunch. Sorry if it’s not meat; it was all they had left in stock. But I hope you enjoy it! I made it for you!” You speak at a volume you think he would hear.

Kyojuro still couldn’t hear very well. He felt it would be rude if he asked one more time to repeat what you said, noticing that there’s a hint of insecurity behind your rhythmic confidence. So he tried to think of a way to make you feel great, he barely heard the muffled words of cooked lunch, and he knew the perfect way to let you know that it was great.

He ravages the bowl non-stop before you even get the chance to take your chopsticks. So just when you were about to eat as well, his bowl was already off his mouth, you heard it land on the table with a thud, Kyojuro still chewing the rice and cabbage loudly. You were happy that he liked it very much. Until he brought it closer, his eyes shone as he got a slice of the sweet potato and devoured it. Followed by a loud exclamation of,

“Umai!” Once.

“Umai!” And again.

“Umai!” He kept repeating until his empty bowl caught you off guard. Suddenly the face of your approving father when you were still young softly resembled Kyojuro’s image side-by-side. Though his hair was darker, like yours, and he was much older.

Your mood was brought up again, the last memories of criticism from your mother dissipating before you ate with the same amount of rambunctiousness. You didn’t mean to, but when you did taste the donburi in full, you kept going until it was also empty, unironically saying, “Umaiiiii!” Which made Kyojuro laugh at your expression towards your own cooking.

“Are there any more?” He asks, not holding back. His stomach suddenly grumbled at that exact moment. “I’m still hungry!! It’s my first time tasting sweet potatoes, especially with donburi!”

The afternoon continued until both of you alone finished the whole pot of rice and bowl full of roasted sweet potatoes, not even putting them in the bowls anymore. It came to a point where either of you would just get from the big bowl of potatoes, or the big pot of rice, eating them separately. You were satisfied by the end. An hour passed quickly before you both lay on the tatami floor mat. It was a while now before one of you finally spoke up. Surprisingly, it was Kyojuro who sparked the conversation this time.

You couldn’t see his face while he said this because your position was opposite where he was at the table and on the floor. Both of you are lying only to see the ceiling.

“(Name), why did you propose to me?”

You closed your eyes for a bit, pondering yourself. Your memories return to the night your father lost his leg. Everything from your last house and village burnt to the ground. They said that a monster was hiding somewhere in your land and area, they definitely saw it, the people of the town thought that the best solution was to burn down your house without a second thought to corner the monster and get rid of it for sure. But at that time, you didn’t understand what the commotion was. You just understood that you were in danger. Angry folks of men and women formed a big crowd with torches, and whatever makeshift weapon they could find was raised above their heads as they screamed angrily.

Your mother told them it was unreasonable and tried to talk to them. Still, maybe it was due to panic, someone slipped inside, and your mother only noticed once she heard the loud yelling before the torch was thrown inside your house made of wood. You were still in your room upstairs then, looking unto the crowd. The smell of smoke was still not prevalent. Your father stepped out for a bit that night, saying to be safe and hide in your rooms to both you and your sister. You could distantly hear your mother’s slightly distant screaming, “No! My kids, my kids… They’re still inside!” 

You were starting to understand what was going on when the smoke from downstairs gradually started filling your vision, blocking the view of the angry crowd who seemed to die down, realizing the extent of their reactions. They stopped your mother from entering, and a few men ran inside your blazing home, and you finally got off your feet from staring at the crowd.

Fire spreads fast.

And suddenly, the atmosphere was hotter, and your feet felt burning. You coughed as you slid your room’s door open, hearing the pit-a-pat of footsteps running downstairs, trying to figure out how to go up with the swift flames that wafted through your house, some of the pillars beginning to collapse, reaching the walls upstairs. And you hear a scream, the room right in front of you.

“Ane! (Big sister; 姉),” You exclaim before you slide her door open with your tiny hands, struggling a little due to its weight.

The sight that met you was your first encounter with a demon. You trembled at the demon’s presence that seemed to shift gravity itself. His short, flushed hair with his pearly white skin would’ve been fair had it not been lighted by the protruding fire. The shade of his hair matched that of the rest of his eyes, long eyelashes, and upward-creased brows; he wasn’t angry, no, it was more like he was condescending. Large beads on his feet and tattoos spread out to the rest of his body and face. He was simply standing, and yet he looked menacing all the same.

Your eyes darted to your sister, who seemed unharmed yet absolutely terrified that she was rendered quiet the entire time. In a split second, he appeared angrier seeing you as he made a sound of disdain for your appearance. His expression of pure neutrality changed ever so fast.

“Leave here! Don’t touch ane!” You said firmly, your fists right in front of you this time, you ran towards him, tackling him, but he was unfazed by your weak attempt. But surprised that you would run face first into an entity you must’ve known nothing about, you kept struggling to try and bring him down, your tears and snot starting to fall. At the same time, he looked on at your pathetic, weak, and frail behavior.

Suddenly, your sister stared in horror and heard voices calling out both of your names. Seeing the opportunity, she quickly dashed outside the room to leave you and the monster behind. You were glad that she took that chance and that you got to help. Maybe this time she’ll like you more? She didn’t really always like you.

“You’ve got some big nerves, but look where that got you. Your sister left you.” He says, the fire engulfing more of the room while you hear far-out cries from your sister.

“We have to go, my sister, she’s… She’s not here!”

You would almost feel pain and immense betrayal from this, but… Oh, who were you kidding? It hurt. And it pulled more when you felt the man grab the back of your kimono harshly to take you away from his figure from your futile attempt at apprehending him. You land on the floor and yelp in pain before you exclaim again, feeling fire so close to your face. But just before that incident, you felt a grip on your neck. If you thought it was harder to breathe before from the smoke, it is more complicated now from his asphyxiating grip on your neck. Your tears kept flowing, and your vision was highly unreliable. But you could catch a small glimpse outside when the outside window began collapsing a little more. You could see your mother hugging your sister so dearly.

His grip only got tighter before he clenched his jaw, and you were starting to turn red to blue in a few seconds before he let go of the tight grip on you with a click of his teeth. He tossed you outside, landing by the forest harshly, on the brink of losing consciousness. But you saw a flash of thunder, the sound booming in your ringing ears, and there you saw your father, katana in hand with his familiar blue, patterned kimono, before you were carried by a man who followed closely next to your father who had eyes that resembled the sun.

“—In...Uro—” Your hearing was muffled due to a sudden impact that you were shielded from by the man your father was talking to. “take my daughter back safely!” 

You were around eleven when that happened, your sister, a year older than you. 

“(Name), have you fallen asleep? Was it too much to ask? Sorry! I just want to know so I can answer!” Kyojuro trod carefully; you opened your eyes to be greeted by his face on top of yours, intense gaze on your figure.

He moves back as you sit up, both of you next to each other now, while he’s sitting patiently next to you, a smile on his face like a puppy; You lean back more casually with your arms stretched out behind you, your face facing upwards as if in more thought. This took a little longer than what Kyojuro expected, and a drop of sweat set on his cheek. About to speak up in the silence, you look back at him.

“I proposed to you because… I want to marry you!” You beam at him.

Judging from his expression, you could tell this wasn’t the answer he was looking for. But you knew that whatever solution you would give him, he would say one thing.

“I see…” He beckons softly, and then he thinks quietly for a while. But it wasn’t for too long before his resolve was formed.

“I’m sorry! I have to reject you! I am not looking for a woman, nor do I think I should get married now!” Okay, maybe not one thing. But you knew this would be the outcome.

And so, you laughed. Kyojuro looked incredibly confused at this, so he started to ramble.

“Eh? Did I assume wrong? Were you making a joke? We are still incredibly young, and I think you are an amazing friend, (Name)!”

You stayed still, staring at him while he continued talking before you fully faced him, causing him to stop talking to observe you. You brought both of your hands up to cup your mouth before you said with a proud face:

“This will be the moment that I will start falling in love with you, Kyojuro!!! And I’ll make you fall in love with me too—!” You take a breath in again, “And that means I’ll love you so and that you’ll never get rid of me from now on!!!” Followed by a rambunctious laugh afterward.

“When you mean that you will never leave…!” He starts, almost nervous, despite his ordinarily loud volume.

“Wherever you go, I won’t be far to follow right beside you.” You finally say with an average volume, closing the distance, but not enough for you to kiss; just for him to hear.

Kyojuro took his time to take in your words before you seemed to stir something in him before he stared at you with blown eyes, his smile disappearing, and he grimaced with a red face. He is still a young boy, after all. What else could he do with such strange behavior for the first time? 

“But—” Kyojuro puts his hand up innocently, “I rejected you already?” Evidently confused, the statement came out as a question.

You did nothing but repeat your reaction earlier. This time you pulled back, your laugh was louder, and Kyojuro could barely decipher your immensely jolly responses. This was his first time rejecting a girl. Was it like this with everyone? And then you stop laughing. The wind blows in from the open window that sets the sun inside the room.

“I vow to make you change your mind about that then. Isn’t courting normally? Then I’ll court you!”

Kyojuro was right.

“You are strange.”

Chapter 2 « Chapter 3 (Current) » Chapter 4

If you'd like to buy me stars after touring my universe, visit my ko-fi. ⭐

[blushcoloreddreams]

Notes from The fabulous future formula - by Anna Bey

How you act and how you dress around other matter. Taking your self image serious to reach your goals and represent who you truly are can be done, Victoria Beckham is a great example of that.

Modern elegance: a secret to success. Being elegant is not something you are born with, it’s a conscious choice every day to level up your life. A level of graciousness you exhibit in actions and personal presence. You don’ need to act and look in a specific way like Hepburn and Grace Kelly. You can keep all your personal traits, Most of elegant humans them are unique, fun and make mistakes. But elegance is about learning from your mistakes, but be conscious of them and correct it.

Go for a more healthy life style - taking care of your body will not only help with your physical and mental health but also your confidence and personal image.

Develop self respect, choose your relationships wisely, and have conscious healthy choices. Elegance and class attract the right type of people. The ones that can make amazing things happen to your life.

You CAN change your life and elegance has it’s own rewards

It’s not only the physical aspects

Your thoughts and your brain shape your future. Most people think that powerful men are repelled by women that use their brains but it couldn’t be furthest from the truth

Be ambitious and goal oriented. It’s attractive to know what you want and be resourceful. (Look at Jeff Bezos Wife, she stood out to him and captivated his heart because of her brains, productivity and passions. They got married only after 6 months). Position yourself as a woman of substance

Having confidence and know what you want

Be comfortable in yourself and who you are. Work in your inner self if necessary.

Take responsibility for mindset issues and insecurities that can sabotage you - therapy

Social skills and networking are necessary

Whether you like it or not you have a personal brand

As soon as you interact with anyone you are networking - we all do it on a daily basis, even introverts

Successful people do a little more effort because they wanna be open to opportunities

You never know who you’ll meet in unexpected places to help you with your goals and guide you towards them

Be out there and talk about your projects

Start being a little more open about connections. That can open some amazing opportunities in your life and that work at any ages

What every person person must master: learning proper dining etiquette, improving your first impressions, utilizing femininity, setting boundaries and learning the art of discretion

Being pretty wont save you. If a girl doesn’t know what to with her looks and how to behave herself her looks and like will follow the path she chose.

It’s not about the advantages and disadvantages but what you do with them

Take action - put in the work, make mistakes along the way and do better on the next attempt to climb to success. Be insistent on taking action and pull yourself together. Enough of procrastinating you need to be proactive to get closer to what you wanna be.

Anything is possible

There is no other way to get what you want other than being an action taker