#the stubble he gets from shaving? his? sideburns?

[reineydraws]

Saw your Mishanks bodyswap art! Very cute and fun! (Mihawk with a genuine smile on his face so so fun)

I imagine Shanks whould have trouble fighting in Mihawk's body at first since it's been years since he's had two arms

yes absolutely, i imagine that too! conversely, i think mihawk would have a little bit of trouble adjusting his balance and reach with a body missing one arm, as well. it's interesting to think about how they both would be forced to change their fighting style, and whether or not they would exchange swords.

mihawk's been seen using yoru with just one hand so he could probably pull it off with shanks's body. also interesting to think about shanks tripping up on having two arms until he naturally slips into his old fighting style again--or would he? because there's also the question of muscle memory, right? would mihawk's body automatically do things that shanks isn't predisposed to doing, and vice versa?

the other thing i find intriguing about body swapping in one piece is the question of whether or not your haki powers would switch as well. they say haki is spiritual presence, so presumably your haki switches if your spirits switch, but if it's the kind of spirit that's tethered to the presence of the body? then consider mihawk having the strongest conqueror's haki out on the blues, or shanks being able to use observation haki at mihawk's level, practically being able to predict the future--or mihawk, able to counter with shanks's haki-kill technique. food for thought!

[catscidr]

i was thinking about dottore when i woke up again (shocker) nd then thought about what his shaving habits would be like. dont ask how my brain works cw: crack if you rly think about it. also mentions of dead ppl and some blood but it’s nothing major i promise this is just silly

dottore’s facial hair doesn’t grow back that fast because of how often he’s had chemical substances explode in his face. not that his entire face has chemical burns on it (he does have scars, they’re just more in the upper area of his face), but with how long he’s been working with chemicals, accidentally creating explosives was bound to happen.

it all worked out well for him though, because he did not want to rock any kind of facial hair and look like a messy, mad scientist (even if that’s… technically what he was)– he prefers to be clean shaven (i mean have you seen those crisp sideburns on his in-game model?)

and of course, because he’s a doctor, he has steady hands.

…which leads to him occasionally shaving his face with a medical-grade scalpel. his logic, the first time he attempted it, was that scalpels are just straight razors meant for cutting people open– and if he used it to shave his face, it would just become a fancier (and bloodier) straight razor.

(he could probably cut a man open with a straight razor too, anyways. so really– what’s the difference?)

since this man is always so busy he doesn’t have time to leave the lab to go shave and take care of that kind of stuff– and he didn’t really want to, either. his time is precious and deadlines can’t wait.

and since he’s so familiar with the dips and curves of his face (he’s made countless clones of himself, after all) he can simply sit at his desk, toss his mask off of his face, grab the scalpel he’d use for non lethal purposes this time, and look off in the distance to focus on the space between the tips of his fingers prodding at his face, the blade, and his skin to shave off his stubble without nicking himself.

it’s probably the only time you would be able to catch him off guard (if you’re even able to step into his office in the first place), but you would, most likely, be the one caught off guard instead.

what are you even supposed to do when you step into his office and see The Doctor himself with a straight, dead expression, head tilted up with a rusty scalpel to the underside of his jaw? scream, probably.

and the scream you scrumpt was enough to make him jolt from surprise. fortunately for him he didn’t cut his head off, but unfortunately for you, you had made him nick his face.

just a smidge.

a tiny dot of blood trickled down the lower part of his left cheek, curving down his jaw. you’re both staring at each other- while you had a multitude of questions begging to be spoken out to get answers (because what the fuck was he doing), his own mind is eerily quiet. all he does is… stare at you.

funnily enough, you felt miles more intimidated being stared down by a considerably more casual dottore; his face unmasked, expressionless red eyes boring holes into your face, patchy stubble on his face (from him not having finished shaving), and gloveless hands frozen in the air- one holding the scalpel, the other in the same position as before but now stunted below his jaw.

(one particular observation that bubbled up to the forefront of your mind was, stupidly enough, “so minty blue really is his natural hair color?”)

he kicks you out of his office with a flat glare and a wave of his free hand so he can finish his job.

[harryforvogue]

harry and annaliese please!!!

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Annaliese looks up from the lather, offense etched onto her features. “I’ve done this before.”

“Several years ago, yes.”

“I wouldn’t say several. Now, do you want to be standing for this and I could get a stool or maybe–”

“No,” Harry says, sitting on the edge of the tub. He pats his thigh twice. “Come here.”

Annaliese’s eyes widen. Her heart flutters…well, everywhere. “Really?”

“Really.”

She grabs all the utensils and then carefully sits sideways on his lap. Harry shakes his head and grabs her waist, twisting her over so her legs wrap around his torso. 

“You’ll fall over,” she protests. 

“I won’t.” He spreads his legs wider to balance himself. His hands don’t move from her waist. If anything, they grip tighter. 

She froths the cream a little bit more before shifting closer, raising his chin. “Your lips.”

He pulls them between his teeth, eyes alight with excitement, and perhaps something else. She starts over his mouth, and then down his cheeks and jaw. Then his neck. He shudders at the cold cream, but lets her swirl the brush over his stubble until nicely coated. 

“Do you remember the first time we did this and I nicked your neck?”

Harry restores his lips to normal and chuckles softly. “I bled for ten minutes. You ran to get me a bandaid if I recall correctly.”

“And Thea asked how you could have cut yourself when you’ve never done so before.”

“It was fun, wasn’t it? Keeping us a secret.”

“Fun for you, maybe. I didn’t like lying to my best friend.”

“Lying?” Harry rubs her hip with his thumb. “I don’t think it was lying. Just hiding.”

“I had to tell her I wasn’t interested in anyone for, like, six months!”

“The horror,” Harry murmurs, turning his head as Annaliese flips open the razor. “Carefully, yes?”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

She starts at his sideburns, slowly dragging down. His eyes flutter shut at the contact, just briefly, before opening, staring past her shoulder. Harry never lets his stubble grow out much, so the hair are already short. She stretches the skin with one her left hand and shaves with her right. When the razor is coated, she pulls back and leans over to the sink to dip it into the already filled warm basin. Harry’s hands hold her tightly to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Good?” she asks.

Harry nods. “So far no casualties.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Cannot be more dramatic than you.”

She uses the towel slung over his shoulder to wipe down the blade and then goes back to stretching his skin. As she gets the hang of it, he relaxes his tense shoulders and wanders his eyes over to her. 

She can see him watching her from the corner of her vision. When she glances over at him, Harry only stares back until his left eye drops in a wink.

Annaliese, despite being married to this man for several years, blushes. Harry laughs, rubbing her back as if to comfort her.

Once she gets to his mouth, he dutifully bites down on lips to hide them as she glides the razor over his mustache and down his jaw. She makes sure to get the corner of his mouth, and one one side of his face is down, she cleans the blade and leans forward to kiss his soft cheek a few times. The cream he uses smells divine. There must be some science behind how the smell drives her insane.

This, of course, Harry knows. He gives his knees a little bounce to send her bumping into him.

“You’ll fall!” she says again. 

“Won’t.”

Annaliese sighs and continues with the other side of his face. When she’s done, he tilts his head back so she can get his neck, visibly tense again as she goes over his Adam’s apple. He grabs her waist again as she washes away the froth. 

“Done,” she announces, extremely proud of herself. “Now I’ll go over it again–”

“No,” Harry says quickly, grabbing the razor from her. “I’ll do that.”

She frowns. “You said I could.”

“Yes, but I’ve changed my mind. Going against the hair is, er, too advanced. I can do it. But you can watch.”

He pats her thigh firmly and goes to stand up, taking her with him. Her feet land against the floor and he walks her backwards until her back hits the sink, trapping her there. He takes the cream and rubs it over his face once more, cleaning the blade again as well.

Annaliese stops her complaining right away as Harry looks over her head at himself in the mirror, quickly shaving his jaw and neck. He does it at such a speed, it’s so fun to watch. A smile plays on his lips because he knows exactly how she feels as she watches him. Her hands grab his shirt, mouth ajar, waiting for him to finish his neck to press her lips to his pulse point, kissing it repeatedly.

Harry laughs softly, continuing to shave over his mustache. All she can hear is the scratch of the blade against the short hair. She pulls away once he’s finished, stepping back to let him wash the rest of the lather away. She takes the towel away from his shoulder and pats his face dry.

“So handsome,” she whispers. “You are so handsome. It's so unfair. I should keep you locked up. Nobody should be allowed to look at you.”

Harry wraps his arms around her when she leans up to kiss him, urgency laced into her lips. She kisses him and kisses him until the air runs out, her back digging into the sink. She has to press her thighs together to get some relief, which Harry, as the attentive man he is, notices right away.

“If you keep kissing me like this,” he murmurs heavily against her mouth, “we’ll never make it to dinner.”

His hands slide down her sides suggestively.

“We don’t need to go to dinner,” she says.

“I made these reservations four months ago, my love.” He pulls back to hold her face, squishing her cheeks together. “We will be going to dinner.”

Annaliese attempts to pout, which earns her another heavy kiss from her husband. “Fine,” she sighs, seeking out one more kiss. “But after that, I get to have my way with you.”

“Mm. Absolutely.”

[fishedeyelenz]

Billy Lenz headcanons

Fuck it, it's 1AM, I don't want to go to sleep, let's overthink this dumb attic man. Most of these are from the vault I use for reference when writting for him

Generally has a very musky, dusty scent to him. He likes feeling clean, though he has trouble keeping up with his hygiene. He bathes when he can/remembers, but most of the time he will be smelling of sweat, dust, mildew and sometimes cat food. So best case scenario -he smells like an old man. Worst case scenario -he smells like something died in a bowl of cat kibble.

Has very chapped lips, chews on them out of nervous habbit. I'd a bit better with keeping up with his dental hygiene, but it can happen that he forgets to brush his teeth for a day or two. His teeth are naturally kinda yellowish though. Has a gap between his two front teeth.

Has a staring problem (no shocker there) he has very wide hazel eyes which have an ability creep people out even in normal circumstances.

Likes to keep his hair relatively longer, going under his chin to shoulder length. Likes playing with his hair, twirling it and scratching his scalp to calm himself down. Doesn't like it too long though, it irritates him when he has hair brushing over his back. Has soft curly hair, thick but most of the time it's greasy and tangled and matted up like a rats nest. Can clean up nicely though.

Has a decent amount of body hair, and has a very patchy stubble. He shaves with stolen razors, so he probably doesn't have the sharpest materials to work with. He does have sideburns though, which he likes to take care of

His green sweater is his comfort item, and he has a very hard time parting with it, even when it reeks like something died in it. Probably buys multiple pairs of the greens sweater if/when he has the means for it.

Near constantly has a cold, doesn't layer up at all when the weather gets cooler. His hands are cold and dry. If he's lucky he has an absolutely damp and snot-filled handkerchief in his pocket, but he usually wipes his nose into his sleeves. He's fucking gross like that.

Drools a lot, spits while he talks, most likely has some disorder that makes him salivate in large quantities, but he isn’t gonna get it checked out.

Is afraid of needles, doctors and dentists. just being in a hospital-like environment makes him anxious, it reminds him too much about his stints in psych wards and asylums. Doesn't like receiving any sort of injections. Dislikes taking pills as well, but he can put up with that at least.

Very messy eater, not only chewing really loudly, he also manages to spill just about everything over himself. Can cook simple meals, and can help assist in making more complicated meals, but the process will be messy. Most of the time he is not capable of cooking, and so he steals food from the residence he is squatting in. Doesn’t eat a lot when in survival mode, but if he's in an environment he is comfortable with/is being taken care of, he will eat ravenously and a lot too. Has a fast metabolism when he's young, so he doesn’t put on that much weight, but when he starts approaching middle age it will slow down. In his forties he will develop a dad bod if his circumstances allow (DILF Billy supremacy).

Sensitive to light, prefers being in the dark. The darkness is safer and familiar to him, he feels very exposed in light and open spaces. Also prefers stuffier and more claustrophobic environments, and he most likely has mild agoraphobia. Lights also sometimes hurt his eyes as well.

Sensitive to loud noises, ironically enough. Is easily overwhelmed in noisy environments. Likes to repeat things he hears, very good at voice mimicry, likes words with pronounced "t" sounds in them. Has echolocalia.

If he weren’t an unstable murderer I could see him becoming an actor or a voice actor. Depends if he wants to be seen or not, because I think he would gladly take on roles on TV if they wouldn’t credit him. This man craves attention but is at the same time afraid of receiving it lol. Attention can overwhelm him easily. Could see him becoming a theater actor as well.

Has a big oral fixation problem. Chews on zippers of his jackets, pencil tips and just about anything he could stick in his mouth. Chews on his nails and bites down on his fingers when he's nervous/thinking.

Also stims with his hands, claps when he's excited. Imitates playing a piano when listening to music. Twirls his hair, fidgets with loose threads of his sweater. Sadly when he's overwhelmed/having a meltdown he grips and pulls on his hair, sometimes punching the sides of his head. Likes to rock himself as well.

Near sighted and in desperate need of glasses, but he doesn’t particularly like wearing them and continuously loses them. Needs them only for reading, but as he grows older his vision will get worse and he will have to get a standard pair. He thinks he looks like a nerd when he wears them-he is right (🤓<-Billy)

Loves movies, loves Kubric especially, but watching a film with him can be a grueling experience if you don’t enjoy somebody talking over and narrating the whole film. Especially if there's food like popcorn involved, he will talk with his mouth full, chewing loudly.

Has a sweet tooth. Will eat just about any cakes, candies, treats and fruits. Loves strawberries in particular.

Can't stand cigarette smoke and alcohol. Is very judgmental of people who partake in them. Is kinda a judgmental and mean person in general lol.

I’m sorry folks but this man does not like Christmas lol. Probably has some very bad memories related to the holiday that cause him to burst mentally during that time. Doesn’t care for other Holidays either, except for maybe Valentine's day if he happens to have an object of affection at the moment.

Has eaten cat food

Raised rats as pets before he stole Claude for himself, who proceeded to eat all of them.

[anonymous1233211]

All in a Name - Zack

Credit to the original story and writer https://anonymous1233211.tumblr.com/post/734046585154109440/all-in-a-name-zack

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

Matthew was having a strange day at the office. Sure, he had his tired mornings, but never on Earth did he feel this tired by lunch hour. He was sitting at his desk trying to make up for the lost work in the AM, when a strange thought in a foreign voice entered his head.

"I've never known any Zacks to be hard workers."

Matthew was shocked by this strange thought - well, as shocked as he could be for how tired he was. He decided if his thoughts weren't going to align at all he may as well take a lunch away from the office. He could make up the work later.

He stood up and started going down the stairs when another thought crossed his mind

"Every Zack I met is a smoker."

Matthew tried to ignore the thought as he walked down the stairs, but he started feeling an unusual craving and hurried down, he went around the corner of the building, and reached for his suit pants pocket and grabbed a carton of cigs that he instinctually knew was there.

Matt pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, and then took a deep drag as he was soothed, the craving going away. As he enjoyed the beginning of his cigarette yet another thought crossed his mind.

"I've never known a Zack to dress formally."

Matt didn't notice as his clothing started to shift all around his body. His suit pants became a pair of jeans two sizes too big as they draped down his shoes, changing into a big pair of DC Skate shoes.

His button up shirt grew sleeves as it turned black and became a plain long sleeved shirt as the buttons fused, similar to the suit jacket which had become noticably, (albiet not to Matt) thinner and turned a deep green and a graphic logo formed right onto his chest.

His tie started to feel cold on the back of his neck as it grew thinner and started to unravel into links, forming a metal chain around his neck.

Matt leaned against the wall, smoking his cigarette, not noticing the increased comfort of his clothes. He knew he was out there to get his mind off something, but wasn't sure what. Another thought entered his mind.

"I've never known a Zack to be clean shaven."

Matt suddenly felt itchiness coming from his face as facial hair erupted from his pores, forming a big goatee with thin sideburns and a neatly shaped attached stache. The sides of his face were shaped down to stubble, but it was evidently a couple of days since he shaved, because it was grey and stubbly.

Mack scratched at his beard, thinking that he could shave it for work, but the thoughts entered his mind again.

"I've never known a Zack to keep a steady job before."

Mack suddenly felt far more relaxed than ever before as he pufed on his cigarette. No need to worry about money if he kept getting fired from odd jobs and collecting off the government's employment insurance. He was more than covered. Suddenly, another thought;

"All the Zacks I know drink in public."

A bottle of bud light materialized in Mack's hand, already partially drank out of. Mack's thought became fuzzy, like it wasn't his first. He reached for his cig, pulled it out, and took a swig of the ale. It tasted good, nothing like a cheap beer. A fuzzy thought;

"I've never met a Zack that doesn't think he looks fly as hell."

As the thought crossed, Mack's ego started inflating as a pair of shades and a snapback materialized on his now bald head. His body reproportioned itself a little, burning a little fat off and having his feet grow to a larger size to fill out his big shows, and Mack let out a smug grin with his cigarette in hand. One final thought crossed his mind.

"I've never known a Zack to be anywhere by the bar at this time of day."

Zack downed the rest of his beer and threw the bottle on the ground. He puffed his cig as he sauntered off to meet his friends at the nearest pub.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Picrew Stuff Space Don't Dictate Fate (Rewrite)

This is as good as it's gonna get until I can draw these fuckers (adoringly sorta). The picrews aren't perfect representations of them but it's pretty close so we roll with it. Some things will probably change as I continue this wonderful process. Baydews is in universe the other is for fun.

Cosma (she/her)

Quick summary of character: An alien soldier with some complicated feelings towards her religion and the fellow soldier she runs away with.

Things missing from the picrew: She has tattoos dedicated to her religion on the shaved sides of her head, a matching nose piercing with Greeter, is way bigger in size, her main facial scars are like 1-3 gashes above her eyebrow, technically she has an unibrow.

Greeter (she/they)

Quick summary of character: An alien soldier who's been fighting for a long time, she runs away with Cosma and wants to keep the younger soldier alive and prove their past crew wrong.

Things missing from this picrew: Bro is buff this picrew is slander to them, has a matching nose piercing with Cosma, She has a shit ton of scars, her facial hair is more like random stubble (when I say their hair is silvery think like a silver fox (lol an older man not an animal).

Tharion (he/him)

Quick summary of character: An alien from a race that are close descendants of humanity that has seizure induced visions leading him in unofficially joining Cosma's crew with an interesting alien named Arc.

Things missing/incorrect: Horns are way smaller, has sideburns, has a mustache not a beard.

Arc (they/them)

Quick summary of character: An alien (we still figuring out how alien) fighter looking to learn more of their past and is shocked to find it connected with his faith and Tharion as a helper in reaching this goal.

Things missing/incorrect: Shoulders tattooed/inked green (the tattoos dedicated to his religion), has a different style of goatee.

[fre4kshqw]

Not All Stories Have a Happy Ending - CH1

The air was heavy, a thick fog covering the building. The bright moon is shining as bright as the sun. The building was shone with the moonlight, the only other thing lighting it up was the big motel sign in a bright neon red The breeze brushed the trees and bushes around the building, showing off the buildings cracked plastered walls and mouldy white appearance. It looked like it wasn't taken care of in years, luckily most of the walls were covered by windows and balconies. Most of the windows are covered with the curtains from the inside room, some breezed with the dark cold wind as some windows are left open. To the left of the building was a yellow sign that led to a tunnel, the tunnel leading to a small car park on the other side, the ceiling of the tunnel covered in iridescent lighting like the ones from shopping malls. Two men loomed on the path leading towards the building, both with tired paranoid expressions.

One holding a camera and the other smoking a cigarette, chain smoking, Cigarette after cigarette. The man holding the camera was tall and slim, his eyes constantly wide, like he was running from something. His face was hollow from malnourishment, like he hadn't had time to eat a proper meal. His jaw was covered in a small amount of stubble, almost as if he's given up on shaving. His outfit looked thrown together, it consisted of a brown basketball cap along with a brown hoodie, underneath a plain white shirt, finished with light washed jeans and muddy sneakers. Though the man next to him seemed like his opposite, he was big and broad. His hair was slicked back, leaving his side part to the side still, his facial hair ran down his jaw like sideburns and his eyes had a cold, tired stare. In his hand lay a cigarette that he'd bring to his mouth every few seconds, his lips cracked from the nicotine and cool breeze. His outfit consisted of a red flannel and a beige jacket over it. Then dark washed jeans and steel capped boots.

The two men finally walked inside the ominous building, the place we're they'll stay for the next few weeks. Unless that thing finds them. As they walked in the inside was just like the outside, the walls were cracked and chipped in places, the front desk looked worn out and scratched up, the paint chipping off it revealing the mouldy wood underneath. The two men weren't currently working so this was all they could afford. "You really think this is a good place to stay?" The taller man mumbled anxiously, Jay was often like this always looking over his shoulder and worried about everything. It was a normal reaction to the situation they were in. Along with his anxious behaviour he also records himself, others and every action he takes, which often annoys the smaller man, Tim, off.

Tim took one more drag of his cigarette before pushing it into the already destroyed front desk to put it out. He saw the 'No Smoking' sign and wasn't in the mood for an overpriced fine. "Not sure." he said shortly "I've stayed at worse, we should be grateful for what he has" he spoke quietly while shrugging. Jay nodded in response, he knew he should be grateful considering there's people out there on the same budget with no place to stay. After the two men got their room keys they walked to the room together, the hallways dark and dim, as if they were in a horror movie. The light in the distance flickering and the carpet a deep crimson red, the walls and off white. Almost yellow tone with the same cracks and peels. They get to their door, the wood chipped with the numbers '222' engraved and painted in with white to stand out, though the middle two was barely noticeable.

[otakugoddes]

☆The Little Things☆

☆Jean Kirstein☆

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

A/N: This is Timeskip Jean btw

Jean leaned over the sink while he's shaving, the blade nicking him because he couldn't hold it properly, he wanted to get all the little beard that gathered up on his chin. You knock on the door and smile when he says come in, and boy does the sight of your man shirtless and hunched over trying to shave do things to you. Jean really aged well these past years, looking more rougishly handsome than before, and when those eyes flickered to you in the mirror--a small smile crossed his lips before he ran the blade up his neck.

"You cut yourself again!" You commented when he looked back down, not even realizing there was a little cut on his neck.

Jean sighed, "I'm not good at this!" He threw the blade into the sink, turning to face you and tilt his head up.

"Lemme help you, Jean!" You pull him away from the sink and sit on the edge of the basin, bringing him to stand between your legs.

Jean chuckled, your one hand firmly held his jaw--tilting it up slightly, while the other shaved the stubble and sideburns.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you shaving all off?" He noticed in the mirror that you didn't get the little goatee on his chin and gave you a 'stern look' when you smiled up at him. "It does not work!"

After cleaning his face off and having Jean face himself in the mirror you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a few kisses to his neck, "Trust me...the little goatee is working. It's working on me! You look hot You mumbled the last part.

Jean nodded, "Fine...if you think it's good, I'll keep it!" Though, you may have regretted telling him he looks good with us a little bit because he finds an excuse to use it against you.

Not that you mind.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[torture-themed]

Mister Lockwood's Daughter: Chapter Two

content warnings: sick child

Simon respects authority, Clementine has a fever, Mister Lockwood gets angry.

It was seven in the morning when Simon woke up. For a moment he panicked, unaware of why he was in a strange room in a strange house. The answer came to him with a wave of dread. He rolled over in bed with a groan. He stayed there for another fifteen minutes, willing it all to be a bad dream. When that didn’t work, he prayed instead. Prayer didn’t seem to do much, so he climbed out of bed and got dressed. He was quietly grateful that he was allowed to bring his own clothes. Anything from his home seemed like treasure to him.

Simon went unshaven–there was no razor in the bathroom. He rubbed his stubble. Perhaps it was unconventional, but he couldn’t stand any more facial hair than conservative sideburns. It was better to be clean shaven anyway. It made him look youthful.

Breakfast was delivered at eight by a woman with wide brown eyes. She seemed afraid of Simon, eyeing him cautiously before setting down the breakfast tray and fleeing without a word. Simon ate in silence. 

At eight thirty, the door unlocked with a click. Mister Lockwood came in with his calm smile. Simon rose from his seat, but did not move to approach him. 

“Good morning, Simon. Did you sleep well?” Mister Lockwood asked. He seemed sincere. Simon hesitated for too long–Mister Lockwood lost his smile.

“I suppose.” Simon said. He didn’t make eye contact. 

“I’d expect more respect when addressing the master of the house. Try again.” Mister Lockwood seemed less sincere this time. He stalked closer to Simon, looming over him. Simon failed to suppress a shudder. He reluctantly dragged his gaze back to Mister Lockwood. He was silent for a moment longer. A cloud passed over Mister Lockwood’s face. Simon averted his gaze again.

“Yes, sir, I slept well.” Simon gritted out. Mister Lockwood’s scowl lifted. 

“Good. I’m glad. Now, Clementine is awake. I told her she’d meet her doctor today. Let’s not disappoint such a sick girl, hm?” Before Simon could respond, Mister Lockwood took Simon by the shoulder and steered him out of the room. The pair navigated the mansion’s winding halls and came up to an unassuming brown door. 

Mister Lockwood knocked on the door before opening it slowly. The room was decorated in pastel pink and yellow and dark brown wood. Laying in the bed was a child. She had Mister Lockwood’s dark hair, hanging limp around her head. She opened her eyes and squinted at the pair.

“I’m back, my love. I’ve brought the doctor.” Mister Lockwood led Simon into the room. The girl, Clementine, closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the pillow. 

Simon approached Clementine. He quietly greeted her and introduced himself as her doctor. He set a hand on her forehead–she was burning up. He gently sat her up and explained that he needed to examine her, and that if anything hurt she had to tell him right away. 

Clementine’s skin was covered in splotches of red rashes. She was warm to the touch and seemed to lean into Simon’s cool hands. Her tongue was covered in a white substance, and she nearly cried when asked to swallow. Simon could barely get through to her–the girl was lost in her fever. After a moment of consideration…

“It’s scarlet fever.” Simon said. He lowered Clementine back into her bed. He didn’t want to see Mister Lockwood’s reaction, but he wasn’t given a choice when Mister Lockwood set a hand on Simon’s shoulder and turned Simon to face him. He was glowering.  “It used to be very common. Odd, that  there’d be a case now.”

“It’s treatable.” Mister Lockwood said. It wasn’t a question. Mister Lockwood’s expression was stormy. Rage, Simon guessed, to hide his fear. 

“Yes.” It was perhaps an oversimplification, but he wasn’t going to tell his captor that his daughter might not survive. Simon could save her. He had to. “We’ll have to act right away. I’ll need scissors and a razor–we’re going to shave her head to relieve the fever.” 

“How clever. Do you think I’d give you that? I’ll have a maid do it.” Mister Lockwood said. He glanced back at his daughter. A flash of worry crossed his face. “Is the fever really that bad?” 

“Yes. It’s… it’s good you didn’t wait any longer. She’ll only get worse without treatment. Her diet is going to have to change as well: no animal food. No meat, no milk, nothing. She’ll have to be monitored.” For a moment, as Simon explained the necessary treatment to Mister Lockwood, the fear slipped away.  It was easy to slip into these shoes, to be the doctor and not the prisoner. “If you had gone to the hospital like I told you, it might not have gotten so bad.”

Mister Lockwood’s face pulled into a sharp frown and the fear returned. 

“I think it’s time you returned to your room, if you’re only going to make inappropriate comments.” Mister Lockwood said. He grabbed Simon’s wrist and escorted him back to his room, tossing him inside. The door closed and locked behind him. Lunch and dinner didn’t come.

[12timetraveler]

Sweet Simple Shave

Short sprint.

Summary:

Just a simple moment in camp between Hosea and Reader

You can read the entire story below or on AO3

"Darling, could you give me a hand?" 

You glanced up from the sewing you were doing, trying to repair a tear in one of Arthur's shirts. Hosea was walking toward you, a smile on his face. You were happy to see your sweetheart looking better after the rough time in Colter. There was color in his cheeks and energy in his steps once again. Horseshoe Overlook could still get cold but it wasn't nearly as bad as those awful mountains. 

"Of course, love," you said, setting aside your sewing. Hosea leaned down and stole a quick kiss before offering a hand to help you up off the crate you were sitting on. 

"Perfect," he said, leading you to one of the tables in the middle of camp. Waiting on the table was Hosea's shaving kit. A straight knife, a bowl, his shaving soap, etc. "Could you help me?" He asked. "My hands aren't quite steady today but this stubble is driving me crazy," Hosea scratched his cheek to emphasize his point. 

Hosea preferred to keep clean shaven. He'd never been able to grow a big healthy beard. It was thin and patchy, and the wiry hairs irritated his face. He hadn't had the time or energy to shave since the escape from Blackwater.

"You sure you trust me near your face with a sharp blade?" You teased. 

"I trust you with my very life," he chirped. "Why? Should I not?"

"Mmm I guess we'll have to see," you giggled. Hosea chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss before he pulled off his jacket and began undoing his wild rag. He sat down in one of the chairs and leaned back so his head rested on the table. 

You grabbed the brush and soap, dipping the brush in the little pitcher of water before agitating it against the soap, creating a nice foam. Hosea was watching you with soft eyes, just savoring the simple moment. 

"Are you wearing lipstick?" He asked with a little tilt to his head, spotting the red on your lips. 

You weren't sure why but that morning you'd just had the notion to put on some lipstick. You just wanted to primp just a little. It was just a simple thing.

"Oh, yeah," you said with a shy smile. "I don't know. I just felt like it," you shrugged. 

"It looks good," Hosea cooed, giving you that dashing smile of his. You smiled and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead and leaving a faint red impression on his skin. 

"Looks pretty good on you, too," you giggled. Hosea laughed, loud and jovial. 

You began applying the shaving foam to his face, making sure to cover his jaw well. Once he had a white fluffy beard of soap, you set the brush aside and grabbed the straight razor, flicking it open. 

You tested the blade against your finger. It was nice and sharp. He must have sharpened it before coming over to ask for your help. 

"Alright," you said, moving to stand right beside his head. "Stay still," you carefully held his head with one hand and you began the slow, careful process of shaving Hosea's face. You took your time, making sure to do it right and not hurt him. If you nicked his face at all you'd feel horrible. 

You felt Hosea relax against you, letting you guide his head as you needed. He let out a contented sigh. You couldn't resist leaning down and planting a kiss on the side of his face where you'd just shaved a small section. He smiled at the little gesture. 

You straightened up and rinsed the blade off in the bowl of water before coming back to Hosea's face. You carefully shaved around his sideburns, neatening out the hair there and removing any beard hairs that may have been creeping up there. 

You continued down the side of his face until you had the left cheek done. You were saving his chin and upper lip for last, making sure you were more confident in your movements from doing the easier parts before starting on the tricky parts. 

You couldn't resist leaning down and placing two more kisses on his cheek, each leaving little red marks behind. Your husband was just so handsome, and he looked so relaxed and peaceful. 

And so it continued. Every time you cleared a big enough space, you'd lean forward and plant another kiss on his face. With every kiss he'd smile more and more, loving the little affections. The two of you would usually save something so silly but intimate for the privacy of your tent but you just couldn't resist, and Hosea didn't seem to mind. 

Though you could feel eyes on you. No doubt Micah was watching with that disgusted look on his face that he got any time he saw you and Hosea. Or any romance really. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Molly watching, no doubt wishing she and Dutch could have similar moments. But Dutch was very busy these days. You could feel many eyes on you, but no one bothered you. It was as if you and Hosea were in your own little world. 

Once you had his cheeks done, you moved on to his chin, carefully shaving around the curves of his jawline. You held his head carefully against you so you could get the right angles. Hosea held very still, making your job easier. 

Finally you finished the last swipe of the straight razor. You rinsed it off in the bowl and closed it. Grabbing Hosea's face in both hands you leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. His lips met yours naturally, like he was expecting this. He cupped your cheek tenderly as you kissed him. 

When you finally pulled back, you couldn't help but giggle, just a little. His jaw area was covered in little red kiss marks. Your lipstick had begun to wear off, and some of the kisses were very pale, but even his lips had a slight tingle to them. 

Hosea opened his eyes and sat up, looking at you with a playful twinkle in his eye, knowing how his face must look after all your kisses. He reached out and took your hand, tugging you down to sit on his knee. 

"<I>Then let amorous kisses dwell

On our lips, begin and tell</I>

His lips were inches from your ear, his gentle timbre rumbling through your body as he spoke. 

"<I>A Thousand, and a Hundred, score

An Hundred, and a Thousand more,</I>"

It was a translation of an old Latin poem "Out Of Catallus," You and Hosea had been reading some books of Latin poem translations and it had become one of your favorites. 

You picked up where he left off, reciting the next couple lines. 

"<I>Till another Thousand smother

That, and that wipe of another. 

Thus at last when we have numbered

Many a Thousand, many a Hundred;</i>

You trailed off, letting Hosea pick up the next set of lines. 

"<I>We’ll confound the reckoning quite,

And lose ourselves in wild delight:</I>"

You joined him in the last two lines. 

"<I>While our joys so multiply,

As shall mock the envious eye.</I>"

Hosea chuckled happily and began peppering your cheeks with kisses of his own until you were giggling and swatting him away. 

You reached behind him and grabbed the damp towel that had been set aside. You carefully began wiping his chin, removing any residual shaving cream or fine hairs that may be laying on his skin. You also scrubbed the worst of your kiss marks off of his face, though there were still some faint marks visible. Hosea sat perfectly still, just watching as you tenderly cleaned his face. 

Once you were satisfied you'd gotten any residue, you set the towel back on the table and grabbed Hosea's bottle of aftershave lotion. You shook some out onto your hand and set the bottle aside. Gently you began wiping the spicy smelling lotion across his chin and jaw to soothe any sore areas and sanitize any small nicks in his skin. You felt Hosea tense slightly as it burned, but you knew after a moment it would feel clean and soft. 

Finally satisfied that he was all taken care of, you let your hands drop into your lap. Hosea leaned forward and planted a slow kiss on your forehead. 

"How do I look?" He asked, sitting back and flashing you a charming smile. 

"As handsome as always," you purred. 

"Awe. You couldn't make any improvements?" He teased. 

"There's nothing to improve," you cooed. Hosea smiled at you tenderly and tilted your chin so he could kiss you softly on the lips. 

"Thank you, dove," he murmured. "You did so well. I felt thoroughly pampered."

"Good. You deserve to be pampered," you could see the aftershave had dried on his face. So you grabbed his chin and rubbed your face against his. "Ah. So smooth," you purred. Hosea chuckled and shook free of your grasp, ducking his head down to your neck and blowing a raspberry against your skin, making you squeal and laugh. 

Hosea pulled you tight against himself and you nuzzled against him, giggling and cupping his face close as he began peppering kisses across your face once more. 

You knew you should get back to work on your chores, but you couldn't force yourself up off Hosea's lap. Even if you tried, you doubted Hosea would let you go. He seemed dead set on snuggling you in the middle of camp. And why would you deny him such a simple desire?

[memento-morianon]

masterpost of excerpts

snippet of Evarin shaving after a few days of funeral and party time got her out of her usual routines:

Evarin slipped out of bed while Morianon was still asleep. She crept to the bathroom and frowned at her reflection, turning her head to get a better view of her stubble. It had really grown scruffy, uneven and bristly. The dark protrusions of hair brought out the slight bulge of her jaw where her tusks were rooted.

“Glaciers, I look terrible,” she grumbled, running her fingers over her chin. “Wish I took after someone else, dad’s beard grows too fast.” She sighed and lathered her face, rubbing a lotion over every prickling little strand all the way from her chin to her ears. She hesitated as she brought the lotion closer to her sideburns, wetted a cloth and brought the shaving line back down just a smidge. Morianon would be upset if he lost too much of his favorite feather brushes.

Evarin leaned forward with her razor in hand, staring hard at her reflection. Steadily she scraped the blade down the sides of her face, flicking stubble into the sink with every pass.

Despite her focus, her mind drifted to the other gnomes who lived in town all year. Her neighbors and friends, her only constant connection to a broader gnomish culture outside of her own home.

[woman name], mother of three, with her soft chin and small teeth. Flick.

[man name], another gnome with tusks, but he grew his out. As he should, of course; they were a blessing for a man like him. Flick.

[woman again], that old priestess who had pushed Evarin through her voice training until she went hoarse just from reaching the high notes.

“Ow,” she hissed, jerking her hand away and scowling at the beading blood on her jaw. “That’s what I get for shaving tired,” she muttered, dabbing it gently with her wet cloth. “Almost done.” She leaned towards the mirror again and pushed her thoughts away, biting her tongue to keep herself focused as she finished shaving.

Morianon entered the bathroom just as she was cleaning off the residual lotion and searching for stray hairs she might have missed. He rubbed his eyes and coughed, throat dry from sleep.

“Hurt yourself?” he remarked, nodding at the blood that stubbornly continued to leak out of her cut.

“I’d be fine if I had just remembered to shave sooner,” Evarin tutted. “I don’t know how you can stand to look at me when I’ve let it get bad like that. And don’t you explain yourself, I know you’ll just say it’s because you love me.”

“I do love you,” Morianon murmured, but he moved to her side just to reach his cup of salt water and drop his nose plug into it, coughing through his nasal passage with a pained squint. He took a wet cloth to the hole in his face, removing the mucus that built up overnight. “I don’t know how you can stand to look at me,” he retorted, “with my nose such a disgusting mess.” He gave her a sly smirk and she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Point taken. I love you too.”

[I really need to think of some gnomish side characters so I can show more about their gender culture and how Evarin fits into it. After all, her own mother is half orc and a lot of orcish traits are perceived in a more masculine way in gnomish culture. So Evarin can’t let herself look too much like either of her parents, because looking like her dad automatically makes her look like a man and looking like her mother also circles back to making her look like a man because of the orcish traits. It is a difficult situation for her! But mori is always there to tell her she’s loved.]

[emissaryoftheguilty]

⸺ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒚'𝒔 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚. ⚙

these will be broken up into sections: physical, mental, emotional, behavioral, and miscellaneous.

CONTENT WARNING: ptsd, child abuse, death, and disassociation mentions.

𝓟𝓱𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵

wriothesley has a scar on his lips on the right side. it's rather deep.

wriothesley has some sideburns, but he he often keeps up with shaving. if he didn't, he would definitely have stubble, and eventually thick facial hair.

wriothesley has small bags under his eyes.

wriothesley has a prominent cupid's bow on his upper lip.

wriothesley is very large, both in height as well as physique in general. he's got a muscular build, but he's also kinda built like a dorito, y'know?

  𝓜𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵

wriothesley has some repressed memories on what had happened since he was a kid. he knows what he did, knows what led up to it, but he can't remember the finer details to due his brain wanting to protect him from reliving his trauma to the fullest.

wriothesley suffers from PTSD, which he's faced with since a child. however he is going through treatments for this, both therapeutic and medicinal and said treatments have helped him tremendously in his current years. however, his PTSD can still be triggered when he is faced with an adult who has mistreated children in any way. if said adult truly regrets their actions, then he is happy to help them do and get better. if said adult does not regret the abuse they've done, then he has his guards handle interactions with them.

wriothesley uses sparring/boxing as a way to relieve himself of any stress or negative emotions he's going through in that moment. he prefers physical exertion, as it helps him blow off steam quicker than talking about them.

𝓔𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵

wriothesley often speaks in monotone, but that doesn't mean he's emotionless, far from it! not everyone gets to see him express his emotions, but when they do, they can see that he's just a giant goofball (when he's not maintaining his warden disposition).

wriothesley wasn't able to have a childhood. at all. because of this, he can get a bit childish in his excitement or things that interest him. there's some childlike wonder in him that's remained, despite how much he believes it's been killed off the same night he killed his foster parents.

wriothesley definitely has many demons he still fights constantly. he always appears so calm, cool, and collected, but he has been traumatized since a child time and time again. he's witnessed horrors that his foster parents perpetrated, as well as horrors within the fortress when he was first indicted. he's learned to keep this all down very well, at the detriment of his mental stability, but is trying to be better by going to therapy.

𝓑𝓮𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵

wriothesley checks in with the people within the fortress frequently to see how everyone's doing. he tries to make everyone know that they are able to talk to him, especially when it comes to any grievances they'd have. he'd rather them do that, than have altercations occur within his domain.

wriothesley believes in the reformation of everyone and that everyone deserves second chances. he does not judge anyone for what they've done in the past if they make the effort to do & be better, but absolutely does judge them if they continue to do what got them in the fortress in the first place without any indication of changing.

wriothesley is VERY gentle with melusines (even if they're much older than him) as well as children.

𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼

wriothesley loves trying new things, especially teas from different nations.

wriothesley does not eat a lot (simply because he forgets to), yet somehow he's still able to maintain his physique.

wriothesley loves sweets very much!

wriothesley misses his siblings. yet, even if he was able to get the information on where they are now and what they're doing, he refuses to pursue them to try and rekindle their relationships. he does not think he has the right to do that.

[zukump3]

do the bnha boys shave?

idk where this idea came from but it came to my head and now i have to write about it LMAO

warnings: a lil suggestive so aged up characters, also established relationship in some of them

short answer: yes and no

he definitely shaves his face (beard, mustache, sideburns etc) because he doesn’t think he looks good with facial hair

he also thinks stubbles are gross on him

sometimes shaves his chest hair, but rarely

doesn’t shave his armpit hair

he doesn’t shave his happy trail (the hair that grows underneath your bellybutton and trails down to your pubic hair) until it gets pretty thick. his happy trail is a lil sensitive 🥴 so when he shaves it he gets a lil red in the face

he trims his pubic hair but doesn’t really outright shave it unless he has to. his pubic hair is a little darker than his actual hair and loosely curly

doesn’t shave his leg hair at all and gets mad when you pick at it

short answer: yes

shaves everything lmao.

he doesn’t really grow facial hair so he never needs to shave it, but when he gets a stubble he will shave it off

^^ the same w/ chest hair. he doesn’t really grow it enough to shave it

trims his armpit hair

idk about happy trail... i think he either trims it or shaves it completely

he shaves his pubic hair completely. he just doesn’t like it on him and it makes him itchy lmao. like his hair, it’s dark green and very curly

he shaves his leg hair when it gets too long but other than that he lets it grow

short answer: yes and no

first off, he definitely shaves his facial hair cause he doesn’t want his facial hair to end up like endeavor’s.

doesn’t shave his armpit hair

shaves his chest hair too,, doesn’t like the way it looks on him

doesn’t care enough to shave his happy trail but he does it sometimes

he trims his pubic hair since his s/o likes it so much. yes, it’s split down the middle, red on one side and white on the other. it’s so pretty actually HAHDJD

sometimes shaves his leg hair

short answer: not really! lmao

hair is apart of his MANLY MAN MAN SHIT

he was gonna let his mustache / beard grow out until sero and kaminari made fun of it 🙄 but he DOES let a stubble grow before shaving it

doesn’t shave his chest hair

doesn’t shave his armpit hair

definitely doesn’t shave his happy trail

his pubic hair is a yes and no... he’ll trim it when it gets too long and he’ll shave it completely if it peaks beneath the pants of his hero costume. it’s black like his actual hair but he’s probably dyed it dark red before

but he will shave his pubic hair b4 he gets laid

doesn’t shave his leg hair lmao

short answer: no, bc he barely grows any

he grew a stubble and wanted to see how he would look with facial hair but it didn’t grow beyond that. he shaved it off from disappointment

he barely has armpit hair so he doesn’t really shave it

the same with chest hair. doesn’t really have it but he does shave it

has a very light happy trail that you can barely see. sometimes shaves it

i believe he trims his pubic hair but at the same time, he doesn’t grow a lot of it. he does shave it when he’s about to get laid tho

sometimes shaves his leg hair

short answer: yes and no!

grows facial hair pretty fast so he’s usually always clean shaven on his face!

has rlly curly armpit hair that he might trim of it gets irritated

he’s got a few hundred strands of chest hair that he doesn’t really pay attention too

it’s the same with his happy trail. he doesn’t really pay attention to it

his pubic hair is so sharp that he has to at least TRIM IT. other than that it gets rlly irritating and makes his skin all red

i hc that he also has hair like on his ankles cause why not

short answer: yes!

he always likes to look his best, so his facial hair is always shaven. you barely even see him with a stubble

trims his armpit hair

definitely shaves his chest hair, but he’ll let it grow out a lil if his s/o likes it

i hc that he has hair on his knuckles too that he shaves

has such a sexy happy trail,,, but he shaves it ugh

also one that shaves his pubic hair completely

shaves his leg hair bc he’s scared it’s gonna burn and catch on fire from his engines 💀

short answer: yes and no

only shaves his facial hair cause aizawa shaves his sometimes

trims his armpit hair. it’s lighter than his head hair, almost pastel looking

doesn’t really have any chest hair so there’s nothing to shave

has a very pastel / light happy trail that he pays no attention to

shaves his pubic hair cause he doesn’t wanna be bothered by it. it’s very curly and soft

doesn’t shave his leg hair cause he doesn’t care

short answer: yes!

doesn’t grow that much facial hair so there’s nothing to shave

his armpit hair smells like clams for some reason so he shaves it

doesn’t rlly grow chest hair but he always shaves the area

i hc he also has hair on his knuckles that he shaves so his quirk can work well

also has a sexy happy trail that he’ll keep if his s/o wants him too

has the softest pubic hair ever,, like it’s kinda cute. he trims it

doesn’t really shave his leg hair

[enchantzz]

Mitchell’s Diary - The Heritage Dance

Words: 632

One-shots in the series of Art & Vampires. Excerpts from Mitchell’s diary.

References to stories in the Art & Vampires series - I - New Orleans and II - London

Art & Vampires is mainly about the relationship and developments around Mitchell, a vampire and Amy (Ames), a human. It’s about the vampire world, the supernatural, but also about history, cities around the world, art, antiques and adventures. Face claims vampires: Aidan Turner - John Mitchell, Richard Armitage - Rick Marlowe, Jaime Murray - Alana (Lana) Lenoir and Ben Barnes - Ben Sheldon. Humans: Mila Kunis - Amy (Ames) Quinn, Bianca Lawson - Lena Parker (witch).

List of Mitchell’s diary One Shots in the Art & Vampires Master list

We went to see a mid-nineteenth century art exhibition earlier this week and Ames got the idea to dress up in real period clothing for a Heritage Dance to which we had been invited.

The dance was in the old mansion, the very same one Ames and I went to on our first business trip together. Barney, the owner, had invited us. He is starting his own Heritage Club or something and he was throwing a big party, a fundraiser. The invite said to wear period clothing, but I’m sure he meant fake costumes, not real period attire.

I told the girls that it wouldn’t be a good idea, because surely someone would notice that we were wearing the real deal, but as usual, Alana ignored my advice and jumped right in and showed Amy her dresses from that period. I don’t even know where she kept them, but she still has them, after all this time. Of course it derailed from there. There was no stopping Amy nor Alana.

Alana told Rick and myself that we should wear our old clothes as well. I shouldn’t have even bothered bringing up that they were long gone, because she went ahead and magically got a trunk out of nowhere and sure enough, our costumes from centuries ago were in it. How she managed to keep them in such perfect conditions is beyond me.

I’m amazed by Alana sometimes, how she holds on to the past but still, in every time period, she goes through life as the most modern woman.

In hindsight, it was a good thing that we were wearing our own clothes. I really don’t fancy costumes from those horrid Halloween stores and wearing an outfit that has been worn by god knows who. The thought of it alone makes me gag.

Now, Rick and I were ok with wearing our mid-nineteenth century attire in the end, but then Alana brought up that we should make it complete with our hair; our facial hair, that is! Of course we protested. Rick is fond of his beard and I like my stubble, but Alana went ahead and threatened to shave us in our sleep with the old rusty antique blades she found in the trunk as well. Can you imagine our faces when she said that?? But we know better not to question Alana’s threats, so we caved and Rick’s beard went and we both ended up with those ridiculous looking sideburns, which were popular around that time.

The Heritage Dance was marvelous though. It was as if we were transported back in time. The guests had made a real effort to dress up and even though the costumes were from different time periods and fake, except for ours, it was a spectacular sight. We got compliments from many on our outfits, which was to be expected. Fortunately, no one brought up the idea that they could be real.

I must say that I had a great time. Lots of interesting conversations that evening and a couple of wonderful dances with Alana. I know that Ames gets a little jealous sometimes, when Alana and I dance, but she is such a joy to dance with. Of course we have had several centuries of practice, but Alana has always been a natural. We just move like one when we are on the dance floor. Fortunately, there was also the opportunity for a slow-dance with my beloved Ames. It was a good night and it will stay in my memories forever.

PS. Rick is growing back his beard and we got rid of our ridiculous sideburns right after the party. My stubble is back and my unruly curls have been freed from being stuck together by the bottle of hairspray that Alana used to contain them.

If you enjoyed reading the story, please consider leaving a comment, a like or reblog the story. Thank you for sharing the love ❤️

@the-poldarkian @linasofia @laurfilijames @deanwanddamons @guardianofrivendell

If you would like to be tagged (or not tagged) please let me know. Thank you.

[baragonspleasurebarge]

Bro's Little Secret

A story written by Ninja_Badger and posted on CYOC. I've copied the text here for my own ease of access, but if you are the author and wish me to take it down, contact me and I will do so.

Context: Jen has been cursed to transform into the ideal partner of whoever she runs into next.

Jen heard heavy foot falls on the stairs, knowing only one person in the house walked like that. Jen's older brother Justin walked into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his lightly stubbled jaw. The nineteen year old was living at home while attending a local college, smartly taking afternoon classes so he could sleep in. He was wearing only his boxer shorts, having just crawled out of bed, his blood hair a mess on his head. He didn't even say anything to Jen, instead going about pouring himself a cup of cereal.

As Jen watched him move about she felt an electric tingle pass through her. She realized she wasn't just looking at him, she was staring, watching his back as he took a few bites of cereal. She had never noticed before, but Justin was kind of cute. He kept himself fit, his skin tanned, just the lightest dusting of blond hair between his pecs, a treasure trail peeking out from the waist band of his boxers up to his belly button. "What are you staring at squirt?" Her brothers admonishment brought Jen back to reality.

"Nothing, just thinking." Jen shook her head. She hadn't just been looking at her brother, she'd been admiring him. Lusting. She could feel the warmth between her legs at her arousal. Luckily, Justin just shrugged it off and went upstairs to eat his breakfast in his room. Jen quickly ran back to her own room, freaked out about what had just happened, and disturbed by the need that still flushed her sex.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, trying to clear her thoughts. But the more she tried not to think about it, the more images of her brother flashed through her head. She could see his face, his lips pushing roughly against hers, his light stubble tickling her cheeks. Before she knew it she was laying back on her bed, skirt pulled up and panties pulled down, her fingers running along her slit. She pressed the tips of two fingers inside her, slid them in a little and then stopped. She couldn't get more than a bit of her fingers inside her, and it seemed like less and less by the moment, until her fingers were touching unbroken flesh between her legs.

She jumped off her bed, running the the full length mirror on her closet door, her skirt lifted so she could see her crotch. Sure enough nothing was left, just a smooth mound of flesh, and her clit which looked oddly large and swollen. She lifted her gaze to look at herself, and the image in the mirror shocked her. Black streaks marred her blond hair, and a faint shadow on her upper lip, when she took a closer look, turned out to be more dark hair. "What the hell?!" She began to strip off all her clothes, checking for any other changes to her body. Sure enough, when she cupped her breasts, they were smaller than they'd been in three years, or else he hands were bigger. Or both. Even her nipples were getting smaller as he breasts sunk back into her chest.

As she looked at her image in the mirror, she noticed her skin was darker too. She kept a nice tan, but it was getting noticeably more pronounced, her skin taking on a rich mediterranian olive complexion. The still darkening hair on her head was retreating back into her scalp, but was also creeping down past her ears, long sideburns growing in.

Her face wasn't the only place hair was growing in. Black hair had sprouted on her crotch and legs, something she had just shaved yesterday, but know was thicker than anything she had ever had, and darker. Her legs even looked.. meatier. Her hips seemed to have shrunk, but her calves and thighs were taut with new muscle. The same was true for her arms, all slenderness gone and replaced with muscle, her hands were larger as well, as well as black hair growing on her hands and forearms. Almost fearfully she lifted an arm to confirm a batch of dark black hair had grown under there too.

A flush of arousal from her groin brought her hand back down there, where her swollen clit was now sticking out from the bush of dark pubic hair she now had. No longer where it once was, it stuck out in front of her almost an inch, and seemed to be growing by the second. Growing as he breasts shrunk back into her chest, disappearing completely, except for two much smaller nipples showing her arousal in their own way. The changes in her arms and legs reached her torso, her feminine frame vanishing as he shoulders grew ever broader, lean muscle now defining her stomach and chest, sleek pecs resting now where her breasts used to be.

The hair on her head stopped pulling back in when she had less than an inch of black hair in a close cropped buzzcut left. The hair on her face has continued to sprout, stubble now covering her chin, and thicker on her lips and sideburns. Hair was growing up her stomach as well, a dense treasure trail moving up towards her stomach.

Without thinking she reached down and wrapped her hand around her swollen clit, now large enough to hold in her hand, she looked down at it. It looked like a four inch long cock. She gave it an experimental tug, gasping at the feel of it. She wanted to pull her hand back, but she stroked it some more as she looked at herself in the mirror. Dark hair had sprouted in the middle of her chest and was spreading along her pecs, and downward to meet the treasure trail that was growing up from her crotch.

Even her face was beginning to look alien. All traces of her face were vanishing under a square jaw and heavy brows, her blue eyes darkening to a rich caramel color. Her beard finished growing in, a day or so of stubble along her jaw and cheeks. She let out a small gasp as beneath her swelling cock a scrotum she hadn't noticed filled as her two heavy balls dropped. Now with a thick eight inches of hard cock in her hand she began to stroke the organ with eagerness, head rolling back at the new experience. She backed up and dropped back on her bed, pumping away at her cock, and it didn't take long. With a deep moan her new cock emptied spray after spray of thick cum into her dark black chest hair. She let go of her softening cock, a foreskin sliding up the shaft and over the head. She rolled her head to the side, peering into the mirror. Where she would have expected to see herself, there was instead a nineteen year old Italian stud.

Even the room was different. Gone were all the personal touches she had made to it over the years. It looked more like a guest room, as if her old self had never existed. She heard a cough from the door and turned to see Justin, still in just his boxers, leaning against the door frame. He had his cocky grin on his face, a grin she used to hate, but now she loved the way it made his blue eyes almost twinkle. He took a few steps into the room. "C'mon, Gio. I know we couldn't have fun last night with my parents here, but couldn't you have at least waited for me?"

Gio? Jen shook her head, but no, memories of a Gio were flooding into her mind, sitting right next to the old ones of Jen, which were seeming more and more like a dream. He was Gio. He went to the same college as Justin, they had gone out partying last night, and he decided to crash here. Of course, Justin's parents thought they were just friends, but they were actually.. lovers.

Gio grinned slightly. "Sorry, Justin, I was just thinking of you and it got all out of hand." His voice was deep, a slight hint of New York in his accent.

Justin grinned back, "Well, how about we have some fun?"

[newtonsheffield]

Has BSCU Anthony ever tried to pull off sideburns?

Madam. How dare you? You know how fragile I am about this. To think. I shared the plot of Royals with you. For shame. (I love and adore you for making me think of this)

But also, Anthony has gone through a few iterations of facial hair in his relationship with Kate. And lets just say, she's appreciated each and every one

The very first time Kate Sheffield laid eyes on Anthony Bridgerton, one of the very first things she'd noticed about him, was his stubble. And honestly she'd never really thought about facial hair before, none of her previous boyfriends though there hadn't been that many, had had any facial hair, and now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Despite how much she despised Anthony, she dreamt about him alarmingly often. Dreamt about what his 5 o'clock shadow would feel like pressed against her skin, his lips against hers, ghosting over her chest, between her thighs. It was really incredibly distracting. And it only get worse when they were together.

"Do you ever shave?" Kate had blurted one morning only a few weeks into their relationship, as she laid on his bed, watching him get ready, a towel slung low on his hips as he trimmed it back.

Anthony had turned to her, surprised his beard trimmer halfway to his face. "Not really, I usually, keep it at this. Do you...? If you don't like it I can go clean shaven." He'd said nervously, his eyes flicking around the bathroom as though he was self conscious.

"Don't you fucking dare. It's so hot I can't stand it." Kate had said quickly, unthinkingly really, and maybe it was her imagination, but Anthony looked very smug for the rest of the day, and let his stubble scratch her just a little more when he leant down, crowding her against the mattress and sealed their lips together.

And he'd kept his stubble ever since, the same 5 o'clock shadow that felt so good against her, made him look a little roguish even as his hair flopped into his eyes when he grinned dow at her, sending her heart fluttering. That was until Edmund was nine months old, and Anthony had walked out of the bathroom one morning and Kate had startled.

"What have you done?!" She said, a little aghast, staring at her husband, who had only a very little stubble over his cheeks, so light you could barely see it, and had left his stubble in a thin line over his top lip.

"It's a Dad moustache!" He grinned broadly, clearly thrilled with his decision, and then his face fell. "Do you not like it?"

And Kate's heart thundered, seeing is crestfallen face. "No, I'm just surprised. Still as handsome as ever."

And truly, after a week, she hated to admit, that his little dadstache was very fucking cute.

After Charlotte was born things were difficult for a while. They had three children under the age of four, and very little sleep, things were bound to fall by the wayside, and one of those things was Antony's meticulous grooming of his facial hair. And Kate hated to admit it, but she barely noticed. She just looked up one day, and Anthony had a full beard.

Her mouth had fallen open in surprise at her husband, little flecks of grey starting to streak his chestnut beard, cradling his tiny daughter agains his bare chest and something deep inside her had burned.

"Anthony put our daughter down and get into bed." Kate said before she could stop herself throwing her own shirt back at him as she swept from the room.

A few days later Anthony had emerged from the bathroom again, beard gone, shaved into the most ridiculous side burns she'd ever seen, just an inch or so from the corner of his mouth. "You're kidding!" Kate had laughed as ANthony had peacocked about the room.

"No, I like them, they're distinguished." He'd moved closer to her, his eyes hot against her. "And i think, you like them too." his voice so hot and low and damnit her breath caught.

"fine okay, fine. You're hot all the time and this is very Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy and I just-" "Aha! I knew you liked Colin Firth!" Anthony crowed, swanning away leaving her very flustered.