#redbrown

[glamourvillapgw]

Thinks 🤔 change your mind Will you change yourself 😍 with hair colour 🔥 #glamourvilla #redbrown #k #red #redbrownhair #discoverunder #toypoodle #de #fashionblogger #haircolor #balayage #btconeshot #li #shorthair #poodle #redhair #pek #toypoodles #toypoodlelove #behindthechair #yavruk #nails #toypoodlepuppy #rkiye #dog #toypoodlet (at Glamour Villa) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnwsDAjJ2Vr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bonefall]

Hello. I’d like to play a game.

Before you are antagonistic cats from arc one, you’ll notice they’re dark brown tabbies, all but Darkstripe and Scrouge. The rest are Tigerstar, Brokenstar, Dustpelt, Mudclaw and just to lump him into the game, Hawkfrost.

Your goal is to tell us what changes to their fur color you’d make to break up the lineup of the same look. You may make them solid colors, bicolors or even just lighten them from dark brown to light, pale or plain brown tabbies, they just can’t remain both dark brown and a tabby. It’s entirely optional to make them make sense with their family tree or not. You are allowed one skip should you choose to use it.

Ok Jigpaw but after this you need to change the elder's bedding. No more building fancy mousetraps before dawn patrol.

Tigerstar needs to be a tiger. I wouldn't mind making him black-and-orange but I feel like he's the one that's too iconic to change

Hawkfrost also needs to be a tiger imo, I do like lynxpoint Hawkfrost whose points "rise" the more corruption he experiences from Tigerstar though, until he's a full clone. But easy fix; white tiger. White with black stripes.

The Erins keep trying to make tabby dustpelt happen. But it's not going to happen. Imo he is a dusty-brown cat with darker brown or even black points. This isn't even a change I'm just correct about this.

For Mudclaw I'm gonna be deadass, white and brown are actually MEGA appealing colors to me. One of my favorite colorschemes. Brown is underrated. Make him another brown points-cat but this time he's also piebald, so his brown spots look like mud puddles. His toes are all dark brown, almost black, like he splashed around as a kitten and it never washed out.

So Brokenstar is gonna get one of my FAVORITE color patterns on an animal, straightup just because gold and brown are underrated as color schemes

do I have a reason to turn Brokenstar into a golden cat with brown stripes and flecks with fiery orange unders? Yes. The reason is I do what I want

Anyway there's your free OCs, feel free to take whatever inspiration you choose. Now get to that bedding!

[grubloved]

new ink!!

[nblemons]

Hit me with the trick or treat bestie, I'll draw shikoba in it fhfbf

Also hi i love you :)♡

HI HI HI MUUUUTE I LOVE YOU TOOO. heres the origin of species OP by b.dolly i think ud enjoy the skull motifs.....

[wall-e-gorl]

sincerity, rambles, sincere easy forgiveness, surprise, oh

[nonnydog]

Y’know, I didn’t expect to enjoy two brown haired characters with ambiguously brown/red eye colors (which i have seen called no less than 60 different adjectives, including but not limited to: ruddy, mahogany, cherry, whiskey, bourbon, various wood types, brown.) who both commit murder and who are from two very separate pieces of media in the same year, but.

Here we are

[blush-and-books]

lavender haze and maroon back to back..... im getting something....... or im going insane.....

[kleptomaniask]

👁👄👁

i can see you.

[hexjulia]

wish my eyes were darker so no one could see that easily whether my pupils were contracting

[oneohtrixpointalwaysunderscore]

John Cena's Inspiring Statement:

[hyah-lian]

Legend with space buns but specifically sunset blond-to-orange-to-pink bc his hair is growing out after pink hair

Specifically bc I know legend can do it better than me

[comradekatara]

dried rose petals, redbrown circles framed your eyes and stained your knucles

[3minsover]

it’s steddie au time again!!

The year is 1953. Steve Harrington begins working as a lounge singer, crooning his way into the hearts of patrons - and one doe-eyed, curly haired bartender.

As the days and nights go on, and Steve draws in groups of women, couples who share matching hooded gazes as they watch, steve finds himself singing only to, for and about Eddie, who’s always just too far beyond the clusters of candlelit, velvet-wrapped tables, trapped behind the bar and out of reach. It doesn’t stop them growing fonder of each other, taking little moments when it’s quiet, before the club opens to speak soft and quiet and close. to trail fingers and press lips in lowlit corners.

It’s perfect and sweet and gentle.

One morning Eddie leaves the comfort of Steve’s bed early, whispers a kiss over Steve’s lips. He murmurs about a meeting with the boss. He’s not there when Steve arrives a few hours later. The boss says he quit, said he was moving away, and no he didn’t leave a note for Steve, why would he?

Steve’s world crumbles like drywall. He stumbles towards his dressing room off-balance, blinking away confused tears. Steve’s in the back corridor when his blurred stare catches on a glint of silver. Laying against the baseboard of the wall is a ring. A little silver signet ring. The one that Eddie wears on his pinky finger.

As he crouches down to pinch it gingerly and lift it to his face, he notices the redbrown splatter low on the wall. Tiny pinprick dots all gathered together like bees. He follows it up to find a smear of that same stain, and Steve begins to wonder whether Creel House is quite the cosy romantic establishment everyone believes it to be.

[grubloved]

train today: fat grasshoppers, cottonwoods and willow all gold, the rabbitbrush just starting to fade off from their yellows, desert plum and wild rose in red red red. sedges going burnt umber and redbrown. scrub oak throwing acorns everywhere this year. magpie! even the russian olive are pretty, whitesilver among the reeds. fields of spent horsethistle like interlocking skeletons. above, the mountain big and solid and skyward, dressed in her reds of maple and oak, the faintest little snow on the peak today. and beyond it all the sky blue blue blue blue

[newtonsheffield]

I love debutante! Kate. Can you give us more insight into her mind around the time she met farmer! Anthony

I bet after she walked away from the first conversation she was formulating a plan. Like step 1: get handsome man to fall in love with me. step 2: get Mary on board. step 3: get appa on board. step 4: figure out children’s names

Debutante! Kate who had her head turned by a Handsome farmer but she, unfortunately, didn't quite know how to find him again in London. She didn't even had his name.

It was fate. Kate would come to think of it that way in years to come. But just like so many moments of fate, so many moments that could have been so different, a flip of the coin, she didn't recognise it at the time.

She'd been out walking, promenading it was called in London, with Mary's watchful eye as the Duke of Sunderland had toured her around the park, they'd said goodbye, and he'd promised to see her at Lady Mottram's ball this evening and she'd smiled while he walked away, listening to Mary prod gently.

"Do you like him?"

"I don't know him well enough to like him."

Mary had chuckled, "He's handsome."

Kate had hummed, thinking truly, she couldn't remember his face at all. "I suppose he is."

And truly, Kate would probably never know what made her look, what made her turn her head that way as Mary stopped to look in a window. Fate.

There was a man, just a few feet from her, the muscles of his back rippling as he unloaded his cart, sweat glistening on his forehead, his hair falling in his eyes as he grunted and puffed and as he turned his head, just a little, something tugged in her chest.

"Oh don't grumble, boy. We'll be home in a few weeks. Once the new equipment's ready." His voice was rich and deep and Kate looked around, half expecting to see someone else but no one came. Only the stamp of his horse's hoof as if in answer.

The man laughed, "You know I don't like it here either."

The horse was beautiful, 19 hands high at least, it's tail and mane flowing black, its chest broad and strong and something pulled her forward.

"You've a beautiful horse, sir."

The man startled, dropping the sack he'd been carrying in surprise, his eyes widening and Kate nearly took a startled step back herself when his eyes met hers.

"Thank you, my lady. His name is Nelson." Kate had smiled at his thick accent, and the way his ears reddened, and the way he reached for his waistcoat, hanging over the back of the cart.

"May I?" She'd held her hand out to touch the horse's nose her eyebrows raised.

"Of course, please. He's- He's friendly."

"I've always loved horses." Kate said gently, letting Nelson nuzzle her hand. "My father always said you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their horses."

"My father says something very similar." The man had breathed, his eyes flicking over her. "I hope you find Nelson well cared for. I wouldn't like a pretty girl to think poorly of me."

Kate had felt the smile tug at her lips as she turned towards him, this young man with his hair shining redbrown in the sun, his chest like a powerful wall, something a little confident in his smile.

"I find him very well cared for. Which says quite a lot for you Mr-?"

"Kate? Darling, come along, Appa and Edwina are expecting us for tea." Mary's voice had interrupted, smiling politely at the man as she gestured her away.

"Goodbye, Sir. Keep looking after Nelson."

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else, My lady." He'd bowed to her, grinning as she walked away and she hadn't been able to keep the smile off her face all afternoon.

And when she'd gone to bed that night and still she hadn't even been able to picture the duke of Sunderland's face, but when she closed her eyes there he was. The man from the street.

Kate knew she shouldn't. It wasn't proper here in London to sneak out, away from the maids and gallop from the woodlands at the edge of the park but everything in her longed to do it. And truly given she'd never once seen the stable doors locked she'd decided it wasn't too wrong.

It was freeing, in the early morning air with the dew still settled on the grass and the fog not cleared as she flew past them, her horse's hooves pounding against teh grass. And then suddenly, she wasn't alone.

Someone was riding up beside her, gaining on her quickly a voice calling out

"Miss are you in trouble?!"

She pulled up short, turning towards the voice and there he was, the young man from yesterday. His hair was ruffling in the wind, face shining from exertion and from the second he saw her a wide grin split his face.

"My Lady! I hoped we'd meet again!"

Kate slowed, turning to face him, "I'm not a lady, sir. Only a miss."

The man shrugged, "And I'm only a farmer, not a sir."

Their eyes caught together, something so gentle, kind in his countenance where so many men of his size were not.

"What's your name sir?"

"Anthony, Anthony Bridgerton." He was still grinning at her. "You're Miss Kate-?"

"Sharma, Miss Kate Sharma." She could hardly breathe, looking at him here, with no neckcloth and his shirt loose, her own hair unbound.

"Miss Sharma, it's my pleasure."

"Same to you, Mr Bridgerton."

Silence settled between them for a long moment, though it didn't feel like just silence. It felt like something more, something fresh and new starting, just like the day was.

"You're a very fine rider, if you don't mind my saying, Miss."

"I know I must be, as I just won our little race." She couldn't help herself, something wild and free taking flight in her chest as she looked at him.

"Our race? I don't think it can be a race as we didn't agree to anything." He hummed contemplatively, his chest still heaving.

"So we're agreed?"

"On what Miss?"

"That we should race."

An even more beautiful smile broke across his face catching Kate by surprise, his laughter hanging in the air between them.

"Then by all means, Miss."

And when they took off racing, she'd never felt more free in her entire life.

Every day she told herself that wasn't what was happening, but as she danced with the duke and found him dull and boring and still couldn't pick him out of a crowd she waited. She waited until morning, when Anthony would come, he'd meet her at the stables before anyone else was awake and they'd ride out together, their pinkies clasped over their horses, her voice wavering as she said Would you kiss me? If I asked you too would you kiss me?

"I'd do anything you asked of me, Kate." He'd gasped just before his lips had met hers and she'd known, in the very moment a thousand titled men couldn't give her what Anthony could. And she wouldn't want it from them regardless.

And then he asked, stood in the stables with the rain droplets hanging in his hair and his hand on her waist holding her tight against his chest

"I don't-I don't just want this, Kate. I want you to be my wife, I want us to have children and spend our lives together and I know it's impossible and I'm not a duke or a prince or the lord of anything but I love you."

tears pricked at her eyes as her heart hammered in her chest. "I love you too. I want to be your wife, it's not impossible."

He'd had tears in his eyes as well, as his fingers tucked a lock of hair between her ear. "It is my darling. I'd never dishonour you or your family by asking you to run away with me and-"

"Let me talk to my Appa. Let me talk to him, tell him I want to marry you and if he won't let us I'll run away with you anyway because I love you and I want to be your wife, Anthony." It settled in her chest, stiffening her spine, ready to fight the way she'd never had to fight for anything, as she walked away from him with the promise on her lips.

And she was so ready to fight she never saw Mary duck her head out into the courtyard and call out.

"Just a moment, young man."

[gltownsend]

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

Tagged by @mister-writes, thank you!

Last song: Oh god lol. In the interest of honesty, it was Samson by Regina Spektor, but I would not have listened to it if I knew anyone ever would have known, and it's really not indicative of my general music taste.

Fav color: Brown and grey. (But like, the redbrown of glazed hardwood when there's sun on it and the grey of knitting made with undyed handspun wool is what I'm thinking about right now. (Explanation because people usually say I'm nuts for this.))

Last TV show/movie: The Office, actually. (But only because it was playing on a TV in a waiting room I was in yesterday.) I don't think I really understood it.

Spicy/Sweet/Savory?: Same as prev actually, haha. From this list, sweet, but in real life I go for salty things.

Relationship status: Engaged. It's a cultural thing, please be respectful.

Last thing I Googled: The word hypsometry, because I didn't know what it meant. (It's the measurement of the height and depth of things compared to sea level!)

I actually don't know anyone I can tag yet, so I hope it's not against any rules to make this open tag- anyone who sees this and wants to do it, you've now been tagged by me haha.