and-the-distance:
Castell y Gwynt (Castle of the Wind), Snowdonia, Wales
cherry valley forever
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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RMH
DEAR READER
Peter Solarz
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Andulka
Claire Keane

★
Not today Justin
d e v o n

JVL
Today's Document
tumblr dot com

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@flintlockgallivant
and-the-distance:
Castell y Gwynt (Castle of the Wind), Snowdonia, Wales
Pancho wakes you up in the middle of the afternoon just to tell you not to look at some videos. At first you’re just confused, but she’s your leafbro,...
(most rp text is going to be happening on the kintsugi forums from now on! go there for further adventures.)
The Lone Tree
Garden of the Gods ~ Colorado Spring
© Claus Cheng
Erskin: party.
The next evening you’re nudged from the slime, stuffed into a significantly more formal set of togs than the regular, and told to pack up.
“I’ve kept you hidden away in this hive for far too long, my pet. It’s starting to wear on both of us,” Cloris tells you, plucking fondly at your clothes, brushing out a wrinkle here, straightening a fold there. “A change of venue will do us good and it’s high time I showed you off! Especially since you look so utterly delicious in this suit. Everyone will be madly jealous.”
Erskin: resolve even more interpersonal conflicts.
After you wake from the nightmare you shared with Jethro, Your Lady spends the first part of the evening soothing away your anxiety over Jethro’s situation and all your dreams and visits and day horrors. She strokes your hair and assures you that he’s fine and so shall you be as well, though you never quite manage to settle on when to have him over or how to get him.
The world paints pictures everyday, you just have to look in the right places.
Erskin: resolve an interpersonal conflict
You wake feeling groggy and muzzyheaded in the way that means you’ve slept for a very long time. Various parts of you are still screaming from your long walk, and you take a wincing itinerary: foot, knee, hips, lower back. Your right hand aches from clutching and leaning on that bloody stupid cane all night and the attached shoulder feels as if it’s thinking about fucking off altogether. You're also ravenous--the platter of pastries feels like it happened eons ago.
But all that aside, you feel considerably better than you did. Here in this block it is calm and quiet and safe, a gentle evening breeze rustling the silk curtains and sending all the fronds and flowers bobbing. You’re wearing soft, simple pajamas, and the slime smells fresh and clean. You could be well on your way to feeling like a normal troll again if you could get some breakfast in you— you’re just hungry enough to be slightly uncomfortable, but indolent enough that you don’t feel like climbing out of the medicupe just yet.
(posted to a trashy gossip hub)
Dish Dish: What’s What and Who’s Who.
IN the course of some very crafty— and very private!— negotiations, Lord Aspera’s secret moirail has been coaxed out into the open for an exclusive sit-down interview with yours truly!
Jethro Makwa, a rugged greenblood, joined us in a private location looking positively cuddly in a thick sweater— hand-knit, we're told!— and unfussy jeans put together with a pair of evidently well-loved hiking boots. A blood-colored mohawk gives his sweet demeanor a delicious hint of sharp. Friendly enough to give us a look into the life of a modest troll with a royal moirail, but shyly protective of the intimacy the two must have built up between them, Mr Makwaa was a breath of fresh and adorable air in the ongoing doom and gloom of whatever business it is exactly that Lord Aspera is conducting with his kismesis. Interview below the cut.
Message Sent To One Of Bel’s Moderately Obscure Inboxes
To: whichever d*ckweed it may concern
Re: your asinine f*ckgames
Look, whatever the h*ll you’re up to with Lord Aspera you need to cut it the f*ck out. It’s killing him. Like, you’re winning, you won, he looks like complete shi*t. This tabloid cr*p wasn’t any of my lookout till the sorry b*stard had a grand mal meltdown in my store. Other shoptrolls say he wasn’t doing so hot in front of them neither. Back the f*ck off and let him catch his g*ddamn breath, you toxic, hyperaggresive nutjob, or I’m gonna have to make this personal.
F*cking fight me,
—Kohoal Staiem
[response sent within 5 minutes]
To: Kohoal Stalem
Re: Erskin Aspera’s health
What the hell was he doing in a store. Look, you’ve got the wrong end of this. I’m not about to explain the details of Erskin’s personal life to a stranger, that would be extremely inappropriate, but I give you my solemn word that I’m not the one endangering him. Considering the last information I had regarding his health, I’m appalled he was anywhere but a medicupe. And also baffled because he lost his prosthetic some time ago. Was he on crutches or what.
No, nevermind, what’s important is: when did this happen, how sick did he look, was there a large muscular jadeblood with him, and where did she take him. God, tell me she isn’t making him walk.
Please respond quickly.
- B. Kadros
To: B. Kadros
Re: Erskin Aspera’s health
Like no one’s heard that before, huh! I bet he got that dinged up falling down some g*ddamn stairs, pal? Here’s the list.
-He’s got a prosthetic, black, about up to his hip. He was using a cane. Not well. Other guys in the salesring say he was out this way three, maybe four hours? Bought a lot, mostly clothes, mostly on Lady Vhines’ recommendation.
- This happened just about last night now. I thought I was gonna sleep on chewing your snobby blue b*tt off but I got too mad.
-Yeah, he was with Lady Vhines, looks like he’s gone to ground with her and I can’t say as I blame him. She’s a respectable client of this salesring and treats her boy toys pretty well from what I’ve heard. Let her alone for a while, would you.
-She took him off in an aircar. He was a mess. He was having just about the regular I’m Tired kind of tantrum rich assholes throw at their matesprits when they hit the end of their limited attention span, but somewhere along the way of trying to get him settled down in the changing rooms the kid goes off the g*ddamn rails. Red eyes, tore the booth up, took a swipe at me, whole It’s Murder Time kind of highblood deal, so thanks for that, me and my g*ddamn changing rooms really f*cking appreciate that you’ve scr*wed him over to the point he goes berserk at ties. Anyway, we got some food into him and he calmed his t*ts and Ms Vhines carried him off, presumably to recuperate in her hive, which I don’t know where that is and wouldn’t f*cking tell you if I did.
-Get bent,
Kohoal Staiem
Message Sent To One Of Bel’s Moderately Obscure Inboxes
To: whichever d*ckweed it may concern
Re: your asinine f*ckgames
Look, whatever the h*ll you’re up to with Lord Aspera you need to cut it the f*ck out. It’s killing him. Like, you’re winning, you won, he looks like complete shi*t. This tabloid cr*p wasn’t any of my lookout till the sorry b*stard had a grand mal meltdown in my store. Other shoptrolls say he wasn’t doing so hot in front of them neither. Back the f*ck off and let him catch his g*ddamn breath, you toxic, hyperaggresive nutjob, or I’m gonna have to make this personal.
F*cking fight me,
—Kohoal Staiem
Erskin: shop till you drop
Four hours after your departure from the grooming hive, you are beginning to wish you never let your Lady pry you from your medicupe at all. Learning your way around a shop was fun, at first, and admiring yourself in different sorts of outfits, but it’s gone on, and on, and your stomach is an empty, gnawing hole. The drinks have rather gotten the better of you and you’ve a terrible headache, and every inch of the rest of you aches from having to walk from store to store and then stand around while your Lady holds up endless blazers and slacks and vests and ties up to you speculatively. The cane is helping less and less and your shoulder’s starting to twinge nearly as ominously as your hip. But your Lady is lost in her own private little bubble of fashion, and you are caught helplessly in her wake.
Erskin: time for makeovers.
The next evening, Cloris wakes you with kisses and toast and tea and the news that she is taking you out shopping.
You are not sure if you are up for shopping, to be honest. For all you slept deeply, you still feel worn and travel-sick, and the idea of spending the night hobbling along on your new leg doesn’t sound pleasant.
But your sweetheart is so charmingly excited, all smiles and sparkling eyes as she feeds you bits of toast and sips of tea, chattering about this shop or that market, and you find you can’t bring yourself to disappoint her. And they do sound nice, of course, and if you’re to be seen on Cloris’s arm you can hardly get away with looking like a vagabond anymore.
Erskin: have a light brunch
You wake up in more pain, but feeling a good deal clearer for it. Your leg aches sharply in time with your pulse, and you can feel the itch of injection sites up and down your arms. There are... a lot. You really cut it finely this time, didn’t you?
Stretching the various kinks out of your spine, you swing your legs over the side of the shallow ‘cupe, lever yourself to both feet, and promptly fall over.
Unlike the sopor you’re accustomed to, this stuff doesn’t leave a residue-- or have much in the way of the surface tension you were expecting. Instead, the stuff just makes a sucking sound upon your abrupt exit, but otherwise stays firmly put. From where your face is pressed against the pale sandalwood floor, you hear the click of approaching heels.
Erskin: rest
You wake in the most comfortable cupe you’ve ever been in. You aren’t in even the slightest amount of pain, and the sopor cradles you in a way that makes you think of floating on your back in calm, rippleless water. You feel very fresh and clean, cleaner than you’ve been in weeks, and your skin is velvety soft and smells faintly of cucumbers. Even your teeth feel freshly scrubbed.
You turn your attention to the room you’re in. It’s not a medical facility, unless they’ve started decorating their sick bays with plush leather chairs and colorful wall hangings and gently swaying hanging baskets that have little tendrils of flowering vines dangling down to the floor. There are plants simply everywhere, on every available surface, many of them hidden in green shadows. There is a recuperacoon in one corner, a deep burgundy thing shaped like a large vase, with a hint of vivid green around the outer rim. You hear wind chimes, and trees rustling, and night birds.
(posted to a trashy gossip hub in the middle of the day)
Dish Dish: What’s What and Who’s Who.
THE one and only Lord Erskin Aspera was spotted in Scorpius Hivecluster today, looking delightfully tousled and sporting a ferociously fey suncloak style: what looks to our eye like a whole hand-tanned wildcat hide fitted with simple bone toggle clasps at throat and chest. Savage chic— and we love it!
Everyone’s favorite spade-sexy seadweller had worked up quite an appetite during his long stretch away from the spotlight: you can see in the candid pictures that he and his darling guardian certainly don’t have their waistlines on their mind as they patronize the local street cuisine.
“I like meat,” the Lord Aspera explained when asked by yours truly about what sort of diet keeps him in fighting shape. And boy does he! In or out of the respite block the handsome highblood sure knows how to pack it away.
“Would you care for a portion?” he was kind enough to offer. Swoon! Who wouldn’t?
When grilled— pun intended!— about whether his pitch position was still occupied by the oh-so-formidable blueblood reenactormentor Belatu Kadnos, the Lord Aspera gave a charmingly shy shrug, and excused himself for a bit more sun-up shuteye. Ladies and gentletrolls, is blackened fish back on the menu!?
You don’t understand. Why would he suddenly break stealth like that? Is it a trap? It’s not like he couldn’t have begged, bribed, or threatened the gossip blogger into not posting his location. It’s got to be a trap.
You’re sitting on the wing of your rental flyer just outside Suncaster Hivecluster, which is, like it sounds, a bit of a haven for rainbow drinkers. You just had a conversation with the five surprisingly polite and pleasant drinkers occupying Cloris’s last recorded place of residence. Even finding that was harder than it should’ve been; she’s careful with text. Not so careful with photos, though, and you were able to identify some recurring faces in her blogging of elaborate high-toned dinner parties, dances, concerts, and fashion shows. Tracking those trolls down, you matched the details of the hive in the background of outdoor pictures with the hive a few currently live in.
And then you just marched right up and rang the doorbell.
Keep reading
(posted to the same trashy gossip hub)
Dish Dish: What’s What and Who’s Who.
This Season’s Hottest Ship All Washed Up? “Over my dead body,” Vows Passionate Pitchmate!
READERS, it appears that Lord Aspera isn’t the only notable to pass through Scorpius Hivecluster— and he didn’t just drop by on a whim! Blueblooded reinactormenter and zealous kismesis Belatu Kadnos was spotted hot on his hatefriend’s trail only days after our prior exclusive interview with the nobletroll.
Dressed to kill, Kadros favors a starkly minimalist wardrobe of black, black, and more black— could this be a romantic statement?— but he adds a touch of highblood flair in his choice of expensive combat boots and what looks to us like dragonhide gloves. Whether strolling down the runway or taking no prisoners on the battlefield, we don’t think anyone would like to cross horns with this tough customer!
The more articulate half of their ship by a nautical mile, Kadros was in fine form when pressed for comment on the state of his relationship with Lord Aspera.
““Blackened fish is not ‘back on the menu’,” swore the ardent blueblood, revealing himself as an avid reader of this very blog! “Erskin Aspera will not be on the goddamned ‘menu’ until I’m dead, and since I’m absurdly hard to kill, I suggest your readers try back in approximately two hundred sweeps. No more questions.”
With this delicious parting shot, he continued on with what now appears to be an excitingly high-stakes game of Sex Quest. While we’d ordinarily hate to see such a fine figure leave, we couldn’t help but appreciate the view from behind as he went. Good luck, boys, and godspeed! Whichever partner gets the upper hand of this spicy little battle of wits, if another video installment results then we’re all the winners.