What region of the streets stabs you in the back?

viscous or flowing. Parties or tranquillity. I can be present at either of these. I shower upwards, as the birds drink from me. What am I?

A velvet spread of pale delight, smooth as a whisper on morning's light. Often paired with rings of gold, yet never bold enough to stand alone. A dairy dream, a baker's scheme, found in layers of a decadent dream.

Two armies of white, each on their own ruddy mound. When they clash, any caught betwixt them are ground. If the armies don't meet, their leader dies. If the armies retreat, their leader cries.

My last riddle was a pun on cow products, But it didn't go over very well. Put succinctly: