fine cloth

artsy-wolf96  asked:

Can you give me a list of DILF! Eren? I can't seem to ever find any, so yeah^^

You have truly come to the right place! There’s an ask [here] full of DILF!Eren, and I’ve found some more for ya! Truly, age gaps & single fathers are my favourite fic tropes.

Sartorial Elegance
Summary: Garrison Fine Tailored Clothing is famous in the men’s clothing industry for bespoke and made-to-measure suits. Their head tailor Levi has a hard time keeping his eyes off the new salesman upstairs, and not just because his trousers need tailoring properly.

Tipping Over
Summary: Isabel and Levi get kicked out of class, Eren gives them advice, and Levi and him talk alone.

My Old Friend
Summary: When Levi was a teenager, the unrequited love of his life was Eren, his best friend’s father. Fifteen years later, Levi finds himself back in Whitecrest Cove to sell his late uncle’s house.

I Wanna Be Yours
Summary: Levi is extremely skilled when it comes to babysitting Isabel Jaeger and pining after Eren Jaeger. If only jobs would take those skills as applicable qualities of an employee.

Surprise, Surprise
Summary: “You little minx, you have no idea what you’ve been doing to me - or rather, I think you know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Neck
Summary: “No, you’re fine, I just – Eren why won’t you let me near your neck when we’re having sex?”
     “I – wow you noticed that, huh?”

>>M.

anonymous asked:

what would Underfell and undertale sans do if their crush started mimicking them (ie. Wearing simiar clothes,drinking their favorite condiment, etc.) in an effort to get their attention?

Tale Sans:

Humans don’t typically do that right? He sees you screw up your face at the condiment flavor and takes away the bottle with a grin. “What gives, kid?” When you confess, he goes bright blue and clears his throat, looking to the side. His smile comes back and rests his hand on yours. “Id rather date you than myself, to be honest.”

Fell Sans:

When you fight over the mustard bottle, he knows something’s up. The clothes, fine, they’re more practical in the Underground anyway, the attitude, they’re finally getting with the program, but this? “You’re bein ridiculous. Tell me what’s up.” When you tell him, he starts coughing on his mustard and it splatters across the table. Grillby gives him a glare. Sans ignores him and looks you up and down. “Doll, if you ask me, you do better as yourself. I’m not that great.” He grins and his eyes flash. “So, you like me huh…?”

Frederic Leighton (1830-1896)
“Light of the Harem” (1880)
Oil on canvas
Academicism
Currently in a private collection

In Islamic culture, a harem is a secluded living area for women that is forbidden to men. Also called zenana in South Asia, this private space has been traditionally understood as serving the purposes of maintaining the modesty, privilege, and protection of women.

We always talk about if Aelin and Rowan meet Feyre and Rhysand. But what about the others?

So here are some headcannons …

  • Dorian and Rhys having a heart to heart about how the world saw them and expected them to be cruel, unjust, vengeful rulers like their fathers but how they strove to be someone more and a beacon to all their people 
  • Amren and Mannon drinking the blood of men together * Lysandra shifting with Feyre into any form and flying, running, fighting or playing together 
  •  As well as both of them forming wings and flying with Rhys, Cass and Az
    • Bonus - Mannon on Abraxos flying with them and them all racing 
  • Lysandra, Rhys, Mor and Aelin bonding over fine things like clothes
  • Dorian, Aelin and Feyre talking about books and book recommendations 
  • Cassian making a comment about Lysandra just to push Aedion’s buttons and them proceeding to fight
  • Amren, Azriel and Elide connecting because they both were held captive for a good portion of their lives
  • Azriel, Cassian, Aedion and Fenrys pissing off Rowan and Rhys
  • All of them (and I mean EVERYONE) training together
  • Fenrys winnowing with Rhys, and Mor and them teaching him more about it
  • Rhys, Az and Cassian fighting at one point about wingspan and Lys getting fed up so she shifts into an Iryllian male with a bigger wingspan than all of them

Add-on if there are any you can think of :)

miscellaneous tips for your first year of college/university:

academics

- try as much as possible to avoid 8 am classes. you could do it in high school, but trust me when I say you don’t want them in college. (but also realize that sometimes you have to take them if you want to graduate on time, especially if the classes are only offered during a certain time.)

- go to office hours. go to office hours. for the love of god, go to office hours. you want to be on good terms with the professors, especially those in your major department because chances are you’ll be in their class more than once and you’ll need a letter of rec from them.

- but if you’re trying to raise your grade, kiss up to the TA (teacher’s assistant). they’re the ones that are in charge of your grade, not the professor. they know you better because of the smaller class sizes and they’ll know how much work you’re really putting into the class.

- it’s quite possible the pull off writing a 5-7 page paper the night before it’s due and still get a good grade on it if you know the material well.

- address emails to the professor with “Hello Professor, …”, include the class you’re in, and conclude with your name and student ID number. be professional and keep in mind that the professor lectures to hundreds of students.

- bring a cold bottle of water to morning lectures and drink from it if you feel like falling asleep. the cold will keep you up (and it’s healthier and cheaper than coffee).

- library floors get quieter the higher you move up.

- if you want to take adderall, don’t start with a large dose. start with 10mg, see how you handle it, and go from there. adderall can be dangerous if you OD. some side effects of adderall include trouble falling asleep and loss of appetite.

- it’s in your best interests not to plagiarize. properly cite all the sources you use. maybe you got away with it in high school, but that shit won’t fly in college.

- study groups are only helpful and beneficial to you if everyone in that group has something to contribute.

- self control, momentum, and evernote are great productivity apps for your mac.

dorm life

- tide pods for laundry is so much easier than lugging down a bottle of detergent and a separate bottle of softener and then having to measure them out.

- if you’ve already washed your colored clothes at least once, you don’t need to separate lights from darks. just remember to use cold water. (I myself am a lazy fuck and I don’t sort my laundry at all. my clothes are fine.)

- ask your RA to get a clock radio for the bathroom (if it’s communal) so music can drown out the sound of the person taking a shit in the stall next to you.

- don’t be afraid to speak up if your roommate does something that is annoying you. approach them in a friendly way (chances are, they didn’t even notice it was bothering you) so that they’ll give you the same courtesy. communication is key.

- you don’t have to be friends with your roommate. you just have to live with them. don’t try and force a friendship if it clearly isn’t working.

- don’t be that asshole that hits their snooze button 10 times so their alarm goes off repeatedly.

- instant noodles = life.

- bring tupperware and hide it in your backpack so you can sneak food out of the dining commons.

partying

- don’t go to parties if you don’t like them.

- don’t drink any hard liquor that comes from a plastic handle.

- you should not be with friends that try to convince you to violate your morals.

- conversely, you should also not be with friends that judge you if you don’t share their morals.

- always. use. the. buddy. system.

- if someone passes out/falls asleep, lay them on their side, not their back. that way, if they throw up, they won’t choke.

- if you get to the point where you need an ambulance because of all of the drugs/alcohol you ingested, tell the medic the truth about the substances you took. they’re not interested in putting you in jail; they’re just trying to save your fucking life. (I can personally attest to this.)

- make sure the change your privacy settings on facebook if you don’t want your family seeing pictures of you with alcohol in the background, dressed promiscuously, etc. some friends don’t ask before putting up/tagging you in pictures.

sex

- to someone that has never had sex, it seems like everyone is having sex all the time and that’s all that matters, but trust me when I say that’s the furthest thing from the truth. don’t let the pressure get to you.

- use condoms even if you’re on birth control to protect from STDs.

- try to take a sex ed/human sexuality class. (the one I took was offered through the sociology department.) in universities as opposed to high school, the sex ed is more comprehensive, usually covers queer relationships (mine did), and does not teach from an abstinence-only POV. they’re very helpful even for those who have had a lot of experience.

- don’t expect people you hook up with at parties to be anything more than that - hookups.

- abstaining from sex doesn’t make you any better than someone who fucks a new person every weekend and being sexually active doesn’t make you “cooler” and someone who has never had sex. remember that.

- don’t use flavored condoms for penetrative sex; you could get a yeast infection. flavored condoms are meant for oral sex only.

- speaking of condoms, it’s really easy to get them for free. student health hands them
out like candy the first couple weeks of school.

- get tested first if you and your partner want to have unprotected sex. seriously.

free free to message me any more questions you might have about college/uni. I’d be happy to help/share from my personal experience or elaborate on anything I’ve said here. reblog and add more tips if you have them; I’m sure i haven’t thought of everything. have a great upcoming school year, freshmen!

“to be a witch” falsehoods

there are a lot of misconceptions going around lately on what someone needs to be a witch, i just want to clear some up. 

you do not need:

fancy tools - or any tools at all, really. all you need is yourself and your intent. sure, tools that fit your aesthetic are nice, but you don’t need them. if you have the ability to buy and you want to, there’s no stopping you, but please don’t feel like you have to go out and buy yourself an etsy broom or a cauldron. and don’t stress yourself out over making one either! they are but trappings.

appearance - in witchy aesthetic photos, it’s usually a slim, white girl with long hair. and that lack of a more diverse representation can give the impression that you need to look and be a certain way, but please know it is untrue. it does not matter what your race, weight, hair, or anything looks like. 

aesthetic - you don’t need to dress “like a witch”. a witch can look like anything. if you want to indulge in the black cat, black clothes look, fine, but you don’t need to confine yourself to it if it’s not your thing, you can look like whatever you want to. 

gender - there are some in the community that will fight tooth and nail to make it seem you have to be a cis female to call yourself a witch. don’t listen to those terfs. anyone can be a witch, regardless of gender. male, non-binary, agender, trans, demi, etc. 

black cat - you don’t need a black cat. you don’t need to have a familiar either. those are unique relations that should not be forced to happen

dark, mystical attitude - you don’t need to suddenly start talking like chaucer or put effort into having an air of mystery. you don’t need to be holier than thou, or act like you know it all. witchcraft is a journey that takes time to learn. 

cursing - no, you don’t need to curse. but you don’t need to shame someone for cursing either.

on a spiritual path - witchcraft does not have to be spiritual! you can practice magic without having to worry about being “spiritual enough”, because each craft is unique and deeply personal, you don’t need to force it to be something that you’re not invested in.

religious -  there are many witches that wonder where the power comes from if they don’t call upon a god. the power can come from you. you do not need to devote yourself to a god 

wiccan - wicca is not the only way to do witchcraft, it is only one way of practicing magic. there are many people who think the only way to do witchcraft is to be wiccan, but they are misinformed. if you do not want to work with wiccan influences or traditions, you do not have to. 

initiated - some practices, some traditions, initiation is needed. however, to be a witch in general, you don’t need to go through any ritual to prove yourself one. be wary of those who insist you do, they are often trying to take advantage of new witches. 

straight/cis - some traditions you’ll encounter have homophobic roots/influences. while it is discouraging, you dont have to listen to those, or you can work with others to rework phobic traditions

a “natural” witch -  some people will claim to have “witch’s blood” or “the flame”, meaning witchcraft has been in their families for generations. this does not make them superior or more of a witch than you. anyone who wants to be a witch can, no matter their birth circumstances. 

labelled - a lot of witches label their craft, “herb witch”, “space witch”, “storm witch” etc. you can be as many as you want, or none if it pleases you. you do not need to label your craft however. some people can’t put their craft in a box.

td;lr, you do need:

  • to want to be a witch
  • your intent
  • that’s it! happy casting!
Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Let Them Have This

It’s almost midnight when Dex takes his last load of laundry out of the dryer.

He needed to run it three times and sat in a folding chair in the cold basement to make sure it didn’t start to smoke.

His sweatshirt is still a little damp but his socks and t-shirts are dry and that’s really all he can ask for.

He pats the top of the dryer in thanks for not catching fire and then gives it the finger for all the hell it’s caused him and hoists the laundry basket up on his hip.

They’re only a couple hundred dollars shy from getting a new one and at the rate Jack and Bitty are going….

“Sweetheart, honey.”

Bitty’s voice floats down the stairs and Dex takes them two at a time to get to the top.

Keep reading

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Vasily Vereshchagin (1842-1904)
“Afghan” (1867-1868)
“Afghan” (1869-1870)
Realism