#blue corsage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kayhi808 · 2 months ago

Note

Oooooo, I have a First crush idea… Maybe…

You know most kids will be against their parent showing affection or having affection, what if Abby was like My Bucky and cockblocking (on purpose but not) because she thinks abuvky is her boyfriend…

"N'asha! Lookit!" Abby runs out of the dressing room. "It's so pretty!"

You peek your head out of the dressing room to watch Abby twirl in a circle to show off to Natasha. You chose this dress because you thought it was the perfect blue to match Bucky's eyes.

You had given up buying coffee for the past month in order to save money for a new outfit for Abby's Daddy/Daughter Dance at her daycare. It wasn't a formal or anything, but you wanted her to have a new outfit, accessories... everything. It was a real big deal to Abby, so that made it a big deal for you, too. You wanted her to enjoy the moment.

"I think that's my favorite one yet, Abby."

Abby runs over & hugs Natasha. "I tink I wants it."

Natasha looks over Abby's head at you & you nod happily. "Then I think you should get it."

Abby squeals & runs back to you, "Mama! I loves it so much!"

"So, this is it? This is the dress you want?"

Hopping up and down, "Yes, please!"

Proudly walking out of the store with her dress secured in her backpack, Abby is ready to continue her girls day shopping trip with Mama & N'asha. You went to the drugstore to pick out new nail polish and found decals small enough to fit on her nails. You had to veto the request for make up. No way! Who does this kid think she is? She just cackled and followed Natasha out of the store.

******

Bucky arrives right on time, dressed in a navy suit with a white tee underneath. Knocking on your door, he hears Abby squeal and the jiggling of the doorknob. "I's ready!" More jiggling, "Mama, helps!" After a longer time than he expected, you open the door, letting him in.

"Hey, doll." He leans in to kiss you. Looking around expecting to see Abby, you give him a big smile on the verge of laughing.

"Abigail, your date is here."

You hear her feet running down the hallway, coming to a stop before she hits the living room, and she slowly makes her big entrance. Very demure. Very cutsie.

Bucky's trying to hold in his laughter, he can almost see her vibrating like a barely contained ball of energy. "Hello. I'm here to pick up Abigail Rose. We have a date to a dance."

"Bucky, it me!" She hops up & down.

"Abby?! You looks so grown up! You're not my little girl," faking disbelief.

Giggling, "Yes, I am! It's me!" Standing behind Bucky you signal her to twirl and she does. Bucky kneels down laughing.

"You look so pretty!" He wraps her in a hug and she rests her cheek on his shoulder and he hears a little sigh, which makes him smile more.

She pulls away, "Tank you."

Bucky opens up a florist container holding a mini wrist corsage. "Back in my day, you always brought a pretty lady flowers when you took her to a dance." It's just 2 pink rosebuds with ferns and baby's breath, but it's perfect for her tiny wrist.

"Tank you, Bucky! Mama, lookit!!" Abby runs to you to show off her flowers. You're close to tears. You've been taking videos and pictures, trying to capture how thrilled Abby is. All because of this sweet man. You look over at Bucky, "It's perfect." You see him blush.

After a few more pictures, you slide your phone into your pocket. You grab your jacket but Abby is all, "You can't comes, Mama. Dis MY dates." You're shocked speechless.

"I...I was just going to walk to the school with you."

"No, Mama. You stays home." Bucky's laughing and not helping matters.

Frowning, you hang up your jacket, "Oh, ok." Bucky picks Abby up and you get the door for them. "You guys have fun, ok?" You kiss her chubby cheek. "Be a good girl and listen to Bucky. No tricking him."

"Tank you, Mama! I be good. I pwomise!" She's so happy and excited. You go in to kiss Bucky goodbye and Abby's palm is across your mouth, "Don't kiss my date, Mama."

Bucky cocks an eyebrow at you and shrugs in amusement. "We'll be back in a couple hours, doll."

You softly mumble, "whatever." Bucky laughs and you paste a smile on your face and wave them off.

"Love you's, Mama! Bye!" Abby waves and throws you a kiss. You see her do a happy wiggle in Bucky's arms as they disappear into the elevator.

Abby is a menace! On a brighter note, you won't have to worry about heart-eyed school teachers or single mothers hitting on Bucky. They'll never get past Abigail Rose.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolff @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool

Navy suit, white T-shirt is what I had in mind. 😍

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #natasha romanov #bucky barnes x abigail rose

215 notes · View notes

phoward89 · 6 months ago

Text

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

There will be 2 different endings- 1 for Crassus & 1 for Coriolanus- posted after this as 2 additional chapters

Masterlist

Part 2:

Your mother was fuming as she sat next to Crassus in the large auditorium, watching your Academy graduation. Helenium couldn't help, but to give him a nasty side-eye. The way he looked at you during prom night when she was invited to the Snows’ penthouse, for pictures and to see both you and Coriolanus off, made her stomach churn. Your mother knew the only reason Crassus was lustfully looking at you was because you favored her so much when she was younger.

When your mother was your age she met a pair of Peacekeepers in her native District 12 while she worked at the apothecary as an assistant. She met Crassus Snow and Javani Halvir, friends and military brats. But, despite Crassus' endless pursuit (which was more like stalking and gaslighting) your mother fell in love with your father, Javani Halvir. And once your father passed his officer’s test he married your mother.

It was the life event that made General Crassus Snow a real cold, bitter, rat bastard. Oh, he was always cunning and overbearing with questionable morals, but his heart and soul truly began to rot once he was jilted by Helenium.

And now Crassus is pushing whatever lingering feelings he has for your mother onto you. It makes your mother sick to her stomach as she watches how happy you look sitting next to Coriolanus on the large platform set up on the auditorium stage, right behind the podium Dean Casca Highbottom was standing at in order to perform the commencement.

Your mother prays to the gods that Crassus leaves you and his son be.

Yes, your mother was never very fond of Coriolanus while you were growing up, but that was due to fear of him turning out like his father since he’s his mirror image. She wished that you would've had more friends, met another boy to fall for too. But after seeing you and Coriolanus posing for prom pictures and watching him dote on you while putting on your corsage and paying you compliment after compliment- well…your mother realizes that you're Coriolanus’ world. That he has some deep feelings for you.

And she'd rather have you with the younger Snow than the older one.

Helenium was shaken out of her thoughts by Crassus' deep, stern voice telling her, “It's such a shame your son couldn't acquire leave to attend his sister's graduation.”

Grandma'am Snow watched the commencement, completely unaware of the hushed conversation your mother was engaging in with her son. Her granddaughter, Crassus' niece named Tigris, was on the other side of her and was also too invested in the graduation ceremony then to eavesdrop on her uncle, who she was afraid of.

“Yes, well, his girl couldn't get clearance to travel so he pulled his request.” Your mother told Crassus, in a way letting him know that your brother picked his girl over your event.

“He's like his father, settling with a local district girl.” The Snow patriarch thickly scoffed.

“If I remember correctly, you were a bit star struck by a local district girl once.” Your mother reminded General Snow of how he had once loved her. That he was just as bad as Javani, as Rein, when it came to district women.

Crassus' face turned to stone and his icy blue eyes turned into frozen icicles. His voice was deep and bitter as he snarled, “Yes, well, she made me look weak and stupid by eloping with my comrade.”

Looking between you and Coriolanus sitting together, smiling while whispering happily, and the hateful General next to her, your mother pleaded, “Leave them alone, Crassus. Please, just let my daughter and your son be happy. She doesn't realize it yet, but she loves Coriolanus and it's no secret that he loves her too.”

“I've arranged for my son to be sent off to serve as a peacekeeper. He'll be getting his conscription letter in the mail soon.”

“You rotten rat bastard. Those kids don't even know, do they?” Helenium asked, even tho she was sure that you and Coryo had no clue about what his heartless father was doing to your lives. How he was meddling; for the worse.

The middle-aged man shook his platinum blonde head. “No, they don't.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes while whisper-hissing, “You're going straight to the 9th circle of hell for this, you treacherous bastard.”

“I don't believe in the hells or the gods, petal.” Of course he didn't. Anything other than his own wants and needs didn't exist. Screw energy and spiritualism; it's not real in Crassus' book.

A cruel look crossed over Crassus' handsome face as he told your mother the hard to swallow truth of, “But what I do believe in is success and being the best. You're daughter's my second chance at love and happiness; if I have to get my son out of the way then so be it.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to help those two kids be together, Crassus.”

“I advise you not to if you want to keep breathing.”

“Are you threatening me?” Your mother asked right as Coriolanus Snow took his place at the podium to give his Valedictorian speech.

“It's not a threat, but a promise.” General Snow informed your mother while trying not to roll his baby blue eyes at his son's speech.

Crassus felt his son's speech was lacking something. That it wasn't very lively despite Coriolanus being a charming young man and a very eloquent public speaker. Maybe Crassus feels his son's speech isn't too far because he doesn't like him?

“You wouldn't dare hurt me. You've been holding a flame for too long.” Your mother stated, a bit over confidently, instead of listening to the valedictorian speech. “And mark my words, I'm going to tell those kids all of your plans because the thought that you'd make your own son a miserable, heartbroken mess just so you can defile and corrupt my daughter's sick.”

Grandma'am patted Crassus' arm and proudly smiled. “Oh, Crassus, isn’t Coriolanus’ speech just marvelous.”

“If you say so, mother.” Crassus curtly tells his mother while flashing her a fake smile.

Crassus was a real cad. A cunning, calculating, cad. He knew that your mother would be an obstacle when it comes to wooing you. She proved to be too unpredictable tonight. An ally to his son, which surprised him since Helenium always hated the boy. But maybe her hatred for him ran deeper than her hatred for his sniveling brat of a son?

So, he decided to poison her while the Halvir and Snow families are out for dinner celebrating you and Coriolanus’ graduation. It was quite easy to get your mother a glass of poisoned wine. Perhaps too easy since Crassus has spies and henchmen all over Capitol City.

He even has loyal men planted right under President Ravenstill’s nose in the Presidential Mansion.

Your poor mother, bless her heart, didn't expect a thing. She was sitting in between Grandma'am and Tigris while you were sitting between Crassus and Coriolanus. Tigris was at Coriolanus side and Grandma'am was at Crassus’ side since the table was a large round one right in the middle of the dining room of a fancy Capitol restaurant.

Everything was going just fine. Everyone was eating and making small talk. Your mother was actually making an effort to be nice to Coriolanus and to talk to him, which both confused you and made you happy.

“So, do you two have any plans for the summer?” Your mother asked, reaching for her wine glass, which unknown to her was filled with a medium acting poison that would have her dropping dead before dessert was served.

“We're just going to hang out like we always do.” You told your mother, causing her to just nod.

“She'll probably stay a night or so, since it's summer.” Coriolanus added in as a sly way to announce your relationship. A relationship that you didn't even realize existed.

“I'm sure they won't be together the entire summer, Helenium.” Was Crassus' off handed remark as he ate his steak.

It was also the last remark made at your table to your mother while she was still breathing.

Yea…

Before anything else could be said, your mother dropped her wine glass, causing it to shatter and the poisonous wine to splatter and stain the white table linen, and started wheezing.

“Mother! Are you alright?” You ask, alarmed that your mother's suddenly choking, wheezing for air, and clawing at her throat.

Grandma'am and Tigris are frozen in their seats, tears beginning to fall from their eyes as their faces portray pure horror.

Coryo’s holding you while frantically screaming, “Help! We need help, she's choking!”

The other patrons of the restaurant are screaming and crying, or just staring in shock and awe. But at least a dozen people are screaming for help. And the restaurant staff are scrambling to call the authorities, doctors, etc.

Crassus on the other hand doesn't look bothered. Well…considering he's the reason you're mother's dying before your eyes of course he's not bothered by it, but you don't know that. Crassus, being a cold hearted bastard, just continues eating his filet mignon.

Cutting a piece of his steak, he looks at his son and rolls his eyes at him. How can Coriolanus be fit to have you when he's screaming his head off like he's scared out of his wits. Holding you and comforting you; making you feel safe are two different things.

Deciding that you need a real man to assure you that everything��ll be alright, Crassus puts down his fork and wraps his large hand around yours. A hand that's actually the same size as his son's.

“I've seen this before during the war. Rebels would poison Capitol loyalists.” Crassus said matter-of-factly.

“Are you saying somebody meant to poison you and accidentally poisoned my mother?!” You screeched on top of your lungs. You couldn't believe what you're hearing.

“I'm afraid so, petal.” Crassus solemnly nods while giving your hand a tight squeeze.

“It'll be okay, my darling. I'm here; you got me.” Coryo assured you, his baby blues the size of saucers, as he watched EMT-Peacekeepers rush over to the table to take your mother away.

But sadly she'd be a D.O.A at the hospital.

You went home with the Snows to their penthouse the night your mother died and you never left. Crassus gave you Tigris’ old room (she moved out a couple years ago when she opened up her own boutique) to use. But as soon as it was lights out and everyone went to bed, Coryo snuck you into his room; into his bed.

Coryo held you, kissed you, and assured you that everything would be alright. That you had him; that he'd always be by your side. The night of your mother's death, you cried yourself to sleep in Coryo's arms.

And the nights leading up to the day of her funeral were spent in Coryo's arms as well. The tears came and went sporadically, but his caresses and kisses never ceased. He freely gave you comfort.

And he promised to be with you, always.

The day of your mother's funeral was very somber. It was a large event, thanks to General Crassus Snow footing the bill and taking care of the arrangements. It was held in a large cathedral in Capitol City. One that was older than the city itself. General Snow spares no expense for your mother, claiming it was only right to send her off properly as the window of war hero Colonel Javani Halvir.

The service, performed by Dr. Gaul, the Head Gamemaker and Head of the War Department- also a close ally and mentor of General Snow, performed the service’s parting words for your mother. General Snow had given a eulogy with your mother, making her sound like a sweeter and livelier person then she was.

Your brother wasn't able to obtain leave so quickly, but he did talk to you on the phone. He also talked to Crassus on the phone and they came to an understanding about your living arrangements. That you'd stay in the Capitol under the Snows' care in order to attend the University. But once you graduated you could decide whether you wanted to stay in Capitol City or move onto PK Base-D12, where your brother lives as Officer Rein Halvir.

The ride to the gravesite to see your mother's casket get lowered into a 6ft hole was very hard. During that part of the funeral you're seated in between Crassus and Coriolanus Snow. Both father and son seemed determined to comfort you. Coriolanus held you close, not caring how it made him look, while Crassus patted your hand before resting his large and on top of yours.

Dean Casca Highbottom, who was sitting on the other side of the casket; across from you and the Snow family, saw how father and son are going for you. The morphling addict pities you. Truly he does. Because he doesn't know what Snow's worse, the father who's evil reincarnated on earth or the son who's literally the spawn of Satan. All Dean Highbottom knows is that you're going to get stuck falling for one of the Snow men due to charming smiles and lies.

Casca Highbottom always thought of you as a bright student; an amazing girl, and he wishes you nothing, but the best. Even tho deep in his bones he knows that you'll never get the best in life; will never be able to live up to your full potential.

The after funeral gather’s held in the large, luxurious Snow penthouse. People flitter about, giving you condolences and dropping off casseroles, fried chicken, and jello molds (some old superstition from the old days; the Pre-Panem days that women still honor) so that you and the Snows won't starve while in mourning.

You're sitting on the sofa, between Coryo and Grandma’am. Crassus greets everyone at the door and makes his niece, Tigris, help the cook take the food offerings into the kitchen.

You give sad smiles to everyone that approaches the sofa, preferring to let either Grandma’am Snow or Coryo do the talking for you. In fact, you feel so overwhelmed by all of these strangers offering condolences about your mother's death. People that knew your father, that know Crassus, and want to pay their respects to the wife of a late war hero: Colonel Javani Halvir. It was all so impersonal; you didn't know how to handle it. How to feel about it.

So, you left the pleasantries to the two Snow's you’re wedged between. Grandma'am was a refined lady that knew how to politely hold such conversations about condolences and Coryo was a charmer, he'd be able to say the right thing to all of these strangers acting like they're doing you a favor by telling you that they're sorry about your mother's death.

But then when Dean Casca Highbottom entered the Snow penthouse, he greeted his old friend curtly and asked him for a word- in private.

Crassus called for Tigris, the daughter of his late younger brother Cadmus, to greet the well wishers and mourners before humoring his old friend by escorting him to his private study.

Casca entered the study first and then Crassus followed behind him. Closing the door and making his way to the wingback chairs near the mahogany desk, Crassus asks, “What do you need to talk to me about, old friend?”

“Please, Crassus, you don't need to put on the fake pleasantries with me.” Casca told the tall and imposing General as they took their respective seats. “We haven't been friends since you turned in our drunken joke as our class project: resulting in the Hunger Games.” The Academy’s Dean reminded Crassus of the reason for their falling out.

“You overreacted about that back then and you're a fool for still holding a grudge against me for it. The Hunger Games got us a passing grade, didn't it.”

“But it also gave Dr. Gaul a blueprint for the Hunger Games that have been running for the past decade. Games that people lost interest in until your son made it a horse and pony show.”

“Well, Coriolanus didn't do that great of a job as a mentor in the games considering all of the tributes were killed by those rainbow snakes.” Crassus dryly remarked, reminding Casca of the failed games. Leaning his arm on his armrest and placing his chin onto his fist, Crassus asked, “I know you didn't want to speak to me about the games, Casca. So, what do you need to speak to me about?”

“I see how you seem to be infatuated with Miss Y/N, but she seems to be close to your son. I'm just worried that she'll find herself in the middle of something she can't handle and, since I truly believe she's a sweet girl, I'd hate for her to fall victim to a Snow’s cold, callous, heartless ways.”

“So, what? You want me to throw the poor girl out on the street? She's an orphan and my son's closest friend, what type of man would I be if I threw her out?”

“I know you, Crassus. You're not letting the daughter of Javani and Helenium Halvir stay with you because of Coriolanus and the goodness in your heart. You have no heart; you just want that girl all to yourself because you couldn't have her mother 20-odd years ago.”

“Don't presume to know my intentions, Casca. And if something were to come about between me and Miss Y/N then so be it- we're both adults.”

“You're an evil man, Crassus.” Casca scowled. Shaking his head, he voiced his unwanted opinion with, “I fear your son's going to end up as evil as you. That no matter who Miss Y/N ends up with, I'm afraid that sweet girl’s going to be tainted and corrupted by the beautiful, but cold Snow.”

“Casca, my old friend, my son isn't fit to polish my boots." Crassus cackled, dismissing his son's importance. A cruel smirk crosses over his full lips. "I hope some time serving in the Peacekeepers toughens him up, but he'll never be the strong man that Miss Y/N needs in her life, especially during her trying time.”

“You always were a cutthroat best friend. Stole my drunken idea, but stealing Javani’s orphan daughter for your own twisted purpose is despicable." Casca spat. Oh, how the head of the Academy hated his boyhood friend. "Thank the gods your best friend from the Peacekeepers is dead, because I'm sure he'd kill you for what you're planning to do to his only daughter.”

“Yes, well, he's been rotting in the ground with worms eating his flesh.” Crassus coldly said with a hint of mockery in his deep voice. Tipping his chin up cockily, the war hero of the dark days have his old friend and classmate a veiled threat of, “I do hope that you keep your conversation between us, Casca. I'd hate for your young daughter to lose her father- after all didn't your wife run off years ago? Be such a shame for your young daughter to get out in a government run group home.”

Casca’s not surprised that Crassus is threatening to off him and send his daughter to a deplorable group home for orphans and abandoned children.

“Don't worry, old friend, I'll keep your dirty deeds secret; under lock and key to just had to the immoral sins eating away at my soul.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you'll just have to up your daily dose of morphling to live with your bleeding heart.” Crassus scoffed. Standing up, he suggested, “I think it's time you paid your respects to Miss Y/N and leave. I'm sure you don't want your daughter in the hands of the nanny for too long.”

“Yes, I agree.” Dean Casca nodded. Standing up and making his way to the door, he told Crassus, “I'll be brief while giving my respects to Miss Y/N.”

And Dean Casca Highbottom was brief with paying his respects. He told you that your mother was such a strong woman and tried her best to raise you without the taint and cruelty of the world; that she tried to make sure the bitter frostiness of the Snow didn't give you frostbite. He also looked between you and Coriolanus only to shake his head and sigh, “Young Snow, I think when it comes to you Snow's falling.” Then he left the Snows’ penthouse.

Grandma'am wasn't around for the odd exchange between Dean Highbottom, Coriolanus, and you. Instead the old woman was talking to the neighbor Pluribus Bell about something.

“What do you think he meant by that, Coryo?” You wondered, looking at your best friend with curious eyes, as the Dean's parting words hung heavy in the air, like a toxic smog.

“I don't know, but I wouldn't pay too much attention to Dean High-as-a-kite-bottom, baby. He's never liked me much.” Coryo told you as he spotted a new group of well wishers heading towards the two of you. “We're done with the Academy and him, let's just focus on getting thru receiving well wishes from all the mourners, yea?”

“Yea.” You nod, a sad smile on your lips.

You're grateful for the Snow's, for their support during your time of need. But what you don't know is that within a few weeks you'll be parted from your best friend when his conscription letter for the Peacekeepers arrives; that you'll be around General Snow day in and day out.

That you'll have to make a choice between father and son. You can only have one Snow, but who will it be? Crassus or Coriolanus?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

282 notes · View notes

aworldofpattern · 6 months ago

Text

Zendaya at the Met Gala 2024, wearing custom Maison Margiela Artisanal by John Galliano, and hat by Stephen Jones.

The fruit, flowers, insects and birds on the gown fit the dress code of the night, 'The Garden of Time', inspired by J.G. Ballard's 1962 short story (explained here by the BBC).

The gown also references John Galliano’s Spring 1999 couture collection for Dior, in particular the gown below, decorated with grapes.

Maison Margiela said:

'A sage lamé bias-cut ‘siren dress’ overlaid with iridescent electric blue organza with ‘retrograding’ in undulating bands of hand-painted metallic crin, swathed in an aluminium material and iridescent organza drape and bow, with a corsage hand-embroidered in a bacchanal of hand-painted impasto in the grammar of the electric blues and emerald greens of scarab amulets, with formations of birds, flowers, vines, grapes and nuts, worn over a boudoir-coloured duchess satin corset. A silver metal-wire ‘reverse swatching’ hat and a black hand-painted voile crafted in the memory of plume and enveloped in matching coloured stockings by Stephen Jones for Maison Margiela, and Eau de Nil velour and faux lizard Tabi interlaced ankle-strap pumps by Christian Louboutin for Maison Margiela.

Created for Zendaya by John Galliano for Maison Margiela, the haute couture silhouette was inspired by the 1930s mythological works of the photographer Madame Yevonde and imbued with the memory of the orgiastic sceneries of the bacchanals of Ancient Greece. In a dance between painterly cutting and draping techniques – unique to each layer of the construction – and the superposition of fabric textures such as tin foil with transparent iridescent organza overlay, the composition conjures the staccato brushstrokes of Giovanni Boldini. The bias-cut ‘siren dress’ is a key expression in the creative practice of John Galliano, which first appeared at Maison Margiela in the Spring-Summer 2020 Artisanal Collection. Infused with a certain ‘snobisme’, the look is given the epithet of ‘86 and Lexington’, a nod to the subway station near The Met.

The dress was crafted with ‘retrograding’, a technique through which variations of thread-work, appliqué or encrustation degrade from the bottom to the top of a garment like the linear base drawing of a painting that hasn’t yet been finished. The ‘reverse swatching’ technique employed in the hat exchanges the fabrics traditionally used for certain parts of dressmaking with materials of a contrasting value.' X

251 notes · View notes

mawofthemagnetar · 11 months ago

Text

No Mister Slab, I Expect You(r Keyboard) To Die!

Inspired by THIS tumblr post!

Etho woke up staring at his lap.

He blinked a few times, and lifted his head. Something was bound tight around his wrists, and the chair he’d been tied to was kind of painful.

He blinked, uncomprehending, as he stared into the massive eyes and smug smile of Keralis.

Etho opened his mouth.

And closed it.

Keralis was sitting in a high-backed spiky-looking chair, like something out of a movie. And of course, he was wearing a white suit with a blue flower for a corsage. For some reason, Jellie was sprawled contentedly across his lap. As if that wasn’t enough, behind him, a wall of lava was flowing down. Etho looked around the rest of the (modern and tasteful, natch) room, to see it dominated by suits of armour and other lovely decorations.

Keralis’ massive desk sat between them, with a shiny new gaming PC and all the trimmings off to the side. Keralis gently stroked Jellie, and locked eyes with Etho.

“Ah, Etho! You’re awake!” he said brightly, and his left eye twitched.

“…Keralis? You okay, buddy? Something wrong?”

Etho would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous.

“Hm? No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m very, very fine.” Keralis leaned in, grinning nastily.

“So…uh…why am I tied to a chair?” Etho asked, tilting his head, “’Cause, like, I was kind of sending some e-mails to Pause when Doc dropped that bag over my head, and-“

Keralis’ eye twitched.

“I suppose we don’t waste time, then. Etho!” Keralis said grandly, steepling his fingers together on the desk, “I am replacing your entire setup.”

Etho froze.

“NO-!“

“OH, YES!” Keralis cackled, “YES, ETHO, YES! A NEW KEYBOARD! A NEW MOUSE! NEW MONITORS! A NEW MIC STAND!”

“…Actually, can I keep my old monitor, I only had, like, the one-“

Keralis’ eye twitched.

“You get two monitors now,” he said grandly, scratching Jellie behind the ears. She hissed and hopped off Keralis’ lap, wandering away.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Etho shouted, “I- man, I have like, emotional attachment to-“

Keralis twitched again.

He pressed a button on his desk.

A massive flying machine flew up at the top of the lava wall, Etho momentarily spellbound by the build that had Doc’s thumbprints all over it. And speaking of Doc, the man himself was standing at the top of the lava wall on a catwalk, wearing a black suit and an evil smile.

The flames danced in his eye as he placed down a shulkerbox containing…something.

“What…what are you going to do?” Etho asked nervously, “What do you want from me?”

“You? Nothing!” Keralis laughed, “your setup, though, sweetface…”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MY SETUP!”

“DOC!” Keralis called, snapping his fingers, “BURN IT!”

And Doc threw the shulker into the lava.

Etho gasped as it broke, as his broken keyboard, his sticky mouse, and his monitor with a flickery line going through the middle of it all fell into the flames. His tissue box, though-

Etho shed a tear as the empty Kleenex box hit the lava and instantly burst into flames.

“You’re a monster!” he sniffled.

Both Keralis and Doc burst out laughing. Grand, evil cackles, that eventually petered out.

“Why? Why would you do this to me!?” Etho protested.

Keralis scowled, clicked a few things on his own terminal, and spun the monitor around to see.

“THIS IS WHY.” He shouted.

Etho’s eyes fell on an email he’d sent out to all of the Hermits the previous week.

“I fail to see how that’s a problem. Or worthy of being on your Bond Villain arc.” Etho huffed.

“ETHO. THERE ARE NO SPACES BETWEEN ANY OF THE WORDS!” Keralis shouted.

#magnetar writes #Keralis fic #Etho Fic

521 notes · View notes

mickandmusings · 6 months ago

Text

love you, miss you, mean it

*this is a two part series, read part two here!*

**I recommend listening to 'love you, miss you, mean it' by luke bryan. it's a slight inspiration for this story and it's part two. (sorry, my southern roots are showing oops) **

pairing: bob floyd x f!kazansky!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: before the daggers, before the uranium mission, before even top gun and 'bob', there was just young bobby floyd, finding himself at the doorstep of the kazansky household, year after year, finding family between a father and daughter, and a new understanding of true love.

(based off a request, but i'll post it when i'm finished with both parts, it will give too much away! <3)

warnings: lots of sticky sweet fluff, I accidentally made Ice a single dad??, 'Bobby' as Bob's civilian name, most likely military inaccuracies

The very first time Bob Floyd found himself standing on the Kazansky's front door, he was seventeen years old. He had parked his hand-me-down pickup truck on the street in front of the house, crossed the yard in record time, and rang the doorbell. He was standing on the welcome mat in a spiffy black tux, his sweaty palms clutching a plastic box that contained a corsage made of light purple flowers. Bob had no idea what kind of flowers they were, more than happy to leave that to the florist, but he knew they were the same color as the bowtie that seemed to be choking him. He was incredibly nervous, pushing his glasses up his nose in a repetitive nervous habit. His sapphire eyes caught a tall shadow approaching the door, and Bob felt his spine straighten, his heart hammering in his chest. Bob had heard the stories of Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander (and more importantly, Y/N's dad) but now, as Iceman stared down at him, he began to realize he certainly lived up to his callsign.

The Admiral's eyes were a cool blue, piercing through the teenage boy's frame as he looked him up and down. He had seemingly only just arrived home from work, still in his Navy attire. His well-pressed, wrinkle-free Navy uniform made him appear taller than he was, a looming presence that demanded respect. The flat, stoic look on his face seemed permanent, only cutting into a small upturn as he spoke.

"You must be the Bobby I keep hearing about."

Bob nods, letting out a measly, "Yes sir," before sticking out a clammy hand to shake Y/N's father's hand.

The Admiral shakes his hand with a firm grip, squeezing Bob's hand so tightly that Bob swore his blood flow had been cut off. Finally, he opened the front door wider to allow Bob in, speaking as he shut the door back into the frame.

"You should probably take a seat, get comfortable. She's been giggling upstairs for hours now, but I doubt she's ready. You'll get used to it, waiting around until she's ready."

Bob chuckles nervously, sitting stiffly on the couch as he watches the Admiral stomp about the kitchen, seemingly making a cup of coffee. The silence is deafening, Bob is too nervous to say anything, but the man's booming voice soon cuts the quiet with ease.

"So, Bobby, Y/N says you're a military brat too, is that right?"

"Uh, y-yes sir, my father, he's in the service as well, my grandfather was too, sort of the Floyd family legacy."

The Admiral nods, absorbing the information.

"What about you, do you have any plans to-"

"Dad!" Y/N's annoyed voice broke the Admiral's sentence. Her heels clack down the wooden stairs, her dress whooshing in the wind created by her motion. Bob turned his attention in the direction of her voice, standing promptly, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight of Y/N. She was dazzling in her pastel purple gown, a slight smile on her face as she spoke. "Stop trying to recruit my prom date."

Y/N and her father shared a look, seemingly speaking without having to say a word before she broke out into a smile, matching the wide toothy grin of her father, before turning back to Bob, a slight pink blush forming across her cheeks. Bob blushed as he saw her walk into the room, making his way over to her.

"Y-You look," Bob swallows thickly, gaining his confidence. "You're beautiful."

Y/N blushes fiercely, straightening the lavender bowtie around Bob's neck.

"You clean up pretty well yourself."

The teenagers' awkward gazing is cut off by Ice clearing his throat loudly, his mug of coffee in his hand as he approached them.

"C'mon, kid. Your grandparents'll kill me if I don't get a thousand pictures of you two before you leave."

Y/N cut her eyes at Bob as he stuck his arm out for her to take, helping her over the threshold of the door and into the yard, the Admiral standing in front of them with his camera ready. They all went through the motions of a typical prom photo shoot-the corsage exchange, the awkward photos in front of the house, the send off.

Finally, she and Bob were down the road in his truck, Y/N smiling in his passenger seat, Bob's shoulders much more relaxed, not feeling nearly as tense in the presence of her looming father.

"Sorry about my dad," Y/N speaks over the music playing in the truck, squeezing Bob's hand where their hands intertwined on the console. "He's just a little protective, and, not very good at small talk." She chuckles lightly.

"No, no, it's fine. He was nice. Intimidating for sure, but nice. Made a joke that you take too long to get ready for everything."

"Of course he did," Y/N smiled and rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Bob's arm. The high school juniors had been dating for a little over six months, but both of them were head-over-heels.

The couple arrived and carried on as usual for teenagers on a prom night-mingling with their mutual friend and indulging on PTO-mom made snacks. As the night wrapped up, the last slow song of the night had Bob and Y/N swaying under the sparkling disco ball in the middle of the gym. Bob's tux jacket had been discarded on a chair hours ago, accompanied by Y/N's heels, both tossed about carelessly in favor of running back to the dance floor. Her head rested on his chest, his hands around her waist sweetly. Neither of them were paying much attention to the song playing, or the other numerous couples swaying next to them. Bob's blue orbs were focused entirely on the girl looking up at him from his chest, his hand moving to brush stray curls that had fallen in her eyes. As he looked at her face, his chest filled with warmth, a funny feeling erupting, one he had never felt before. His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing.

"What's the matter, B?" Her voice came soft, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

"I love you," It came out blunt and honest, with no hesitation. Neither of them had said it before, and he watched as Y/N's face went from one of confusion to one of pure elation, a wide grin forming on her face as Bob lightly pulled her closer, their lips meeting in a kiss more meaningful than their previous ones.

That night, when Bob dropped her off back at her house, with the figure of her father sitting in their living room, he smiled as he helped her out of the truck and closed the door behind her. He walked her to the front door and kissed her again before saying goodnight, a permanent smile etched on his face. He watched her get into the house and waited for the porch light to turn off before peeling out of the driveway, his face aching from his never ending smile.

When he got into his own house for the night, his tux coat thrown over his shoulder, bowtie undone and his feet aching in his dress shoes, he collapsed onto his bed with a content sigh. His phone dinged with a new message, and he smiled as he saw Y/N's name flash across the screen. He opened it quickly:

I love you, too. I miss you already. Mean it.

A blush sprouted across his fair skin, typing back a reply as his heart soared.

Over the next few years, Bob found himself on the Kazansky doorstep hundreds of more times-weekend dates, barbecues, birthdays, study dates, movie nights, senior prom, just because, forgetting his house keys in Y/N's room, graduation parties, the list could go on and on forever. He had grown to find the Kazansky household his second home, Iceman's walls slowly melting towards the awkward boy his daughter loved. Y/N's father would allow him to stay over on long weekends and holidays through her first years of college and his of the Naval Academy, letting Bob tag along for family vacations. Bob slowly became an extension of the Kazansky family. Bob learned lots about the Admiral during his days and weeks of being in their home. Iceman loved things that made him seem less and less intimidating from when they first met. Tom Kazansky loved to make homemade banana bread, could often be found dozing off with a book in his hand, leaned back in the recliner closest to the front door, and the Admiral loved rom-com movies with a fierceness only championed by his own daughter. The father and daughter were a well-oiled machine, understanding each other in a way that Bob had never seen before. Bob would observe as the duo would work in fluid motion in the kitchen cooking dinner-knowing what each other was thinking without having to say a word. Y/N tossing her father spices and seasonings as he lifted the spoon to her mouth, and Iceman knowing just how she liked her coffee, her tea, and her favorite shape of ice. They knew one another inside and out, something Bob would often sit in awe of. It was a true display of love for one another, so loved that you know everything about someone, you know what they need without having to say a word.

When Bob had visited the Kazansky's over his final Christmas break from the Academy, he had expected the feeling of closeness and familial love. He found himself in the kitchen with Y/N, an Elvis Christmas record spinning in the living room adjacent. He wordlessly handed her the spoon from the pot he was stirring, her lips pursing as she thought for a moment, handing him a container of salt and other seasonings she knew were needed for the soup. Bob wordlessly adds an estimated amount in the pot before he stops abruptly, realizing what had just happened. His heart hammers, he and Y/N had been dating for nearly five years now, his time at the Academy coming to an end. They had suffered through nearly four years of a long distance relationship-he in Maryland at the Naval Academy, her attending college back in their hometown. They had made it through with phone calls and even letters, long lonely days and nights, and a love for one another that defied odds. He stopped stirring promptly, looking as Y/N was pressing cookie dough onto a pan, her eyes looking up at him.

"B? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She smiled at him sweetly, wiping off her hands before placing them on his cheeks. "Do you feel okay? You're really red, you're warm. Do you think you're coming down with a cold?"

Bob couldn't make his dry mouth form many words, finally sputtering out a single sentence:

"I-I need to talk to your Dad."

Y/N's eyebrows furrow, looking at her boyfriend incredulously, as if he had grown another head.

"Um, okay? He's in his office. Bobby, are you okay?"

Bob nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on her head before racing off to the office on the second floor. Y/N only shook her head and continued making her cookies.

Bob knocks on the heavy office door, waiting for a response.

"It's open," Iceman's voice sounds from behind the thick mahogany colored door. Bob creaks open the door, Ice's cool eyes softening as he sees Bob enter.

"She drive you out of the kitchen already, Bob?" His voice was laced with humor. "She's too much like me, taking control of every situation. Sorry."

Bob laughs, "No sir, I just, needed to talk to you."

Ice narrows in on Bob's firmly serious expression, leaning back in his chair and looking at the boy man in front of him. Bob had grown up in the past few years, taller and more muscular thanks to the Academy. He only wore his glasses when required by the military, often opting for contacts when he was home, giving him a more mature look.

"What can I do for you, son?"

Bob's heart hammered in his chest. Was he planning on doing this now? No-he had planned for a lovely dinner, perhaps a walk on the beach before he did all of this. He had certainly, at least, planned on finishing the Academy before all of this, but after their interaction in the kitchen, the complete domesticity of it, paired with his overwhelming love for her, he knew now was the right time.

"Mr. Kazansky-"

Tom interrupts him, shaking his head in a good-natured manner. "How many times have I told you to call me Iceman, or Tom? I've known you for half a decade, I don't think the formalities are necessary."

Bob nods, understanding the man's warmth, but this was different.

"Any other time before this, and after this, sir, absolutely. But I'm coming to you for matters that pertain to Y/N, and I want this to be as respectful as possible."

Tom nods curtly, appreciating Bob's respectful nature, hands meeting in his lap as Bob speaks.

"Sir, I-," Bob swallows. He thought about this conversation a million times over and over as he stared at his ceiling at the Academy every night. "I love your daughter. I have for five years now. She is infinitely kind, and overwhelmingly beautiful. She's far too smart for me to keep up with most days, and she makes even my worst days bright. I think that's truly a testament to your parenting, she's the most headstrong yet considerate person I know. She loves fiercely, and looks after those she loves with the same fervor. She knows me unlike anyone else, and she's quickly become my feeling of home. Her music has taken over my truck, my headphones, and my inner thoughts. Her favorite movies have become part of my repertoire, and her favorite books sit next to mine on a bookcase in my room. Her things are scattered all over my apartment, and she is seeped into my every thought. When something good happens, she's the first person I want to call. When something bad happens, she's the first person I want to call. I want to spend the rest of my life with her by my side. I know this is sort of sudden, but I've spent every night for a year thinking about this, and I-I would like to marry Y/N. I graduate from the Academy in less than six months, and I'll be in aviation school, and I just-I want her to know she's a priority for my future. If I have your blessing, I would like to ask her before I go back to the Academy."

Tom's head nods, standing from his chair behind the desk, causing Bob to stand, Tom's palm meeting his in a handshake, a sign of respect. He suddenly pulls Bob into a hug, a tightness that is only matched by Y/N herself, the infamous Kazansky suffocating hug.

"You've got my blessing, kid."

Bob nods in understanding, pausing as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiles lightly at Y/N's name and several emojis beside her name on the screen.

It's lonely down here. :( Love you, miss you, mean it.

He smiles at their simple loving joke that had survived from when she had first said it years ago. He pockets his phone again, looking up at Iceman with a newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Ice, sincerely. Y/N means more to me than I feel like I could express in words."

Tom's face breaks out into a smile, his eyes twinkling with something that might have been the beginning of tears, but that's yet to be confirmed. He lightly slapped a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, you've got my permission. But it's not mine that matters, kid, it's hers."

part two out now!

#bob floyd x reader #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #request

390 notes · View notes

chic-a-gigot · 2 months ago

Text

La Mode nationale, no. 39, 26 septembre 1896, Paris. No. 18. — Groupe de toilettes nouvelles. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Jaquette de drap vert saule, ajustée, à basques avec pochettes; revers habit; gilet blanc croisé sur une chemise d'homme. Col rabattu, cravate de ruban quadrillé vert et paille. Manches ballon. Chapeau canotier avec pouf de ruban et deux grandes plumes couteau en aigrette sur le côté.

(1) Fitted willow green cloth jacket with peplum and pockets; coat lapels; white double-breasted waistcoat over a man's shirt. Turn-down collar, green and straw checkered ribbon tie. Balloon sleeves. Boater hat with ribbon pouf and two large knife-edge feathers in an aigrette on the side.

—

(2) Corsage de mohair bleu et noir. Corsage montant coupé par des petits velours noirs posés en pointe. Col montant.

Ceinture composée de trois petits velours. Manches gigot.

(2) Blue and black mohair bodice. High bodice cut with small black velvets placed in a point. High collar.

Belt composed of three small velvets. Leg of mutton sleeves.

—

(3) Toilette en lainage tilleul, à pois verts. Corsage plastron à dents de roses, boutonné sur les côtés.

Col montant. Manches gigot. Jupe forme princesse boutonnée sur le côté en haut. Chapeau canotier, orné par un gros nœud de ruban rayé tilleul et noir avec deux ailes posées en aigrette.

(3) Linden woolen dress, with green polka dots. Rose-toothed plastron bodice, buttoned on the sides.

High collar. Leg of mutton sleeves. Princess-shaped skirt buttoned on the side at the top. Boater hat, decorated with a large bow of linden and black striped ribbon with two wings set in an aigrette.

Métrage: 10 mètres lainage grande largeur.

—

(4) Corsage à basques, en satin violet, ouvert sur une chemisette de tulle, recouverte par un rabat coquillé en dentelle blanche. Col montant avec nœud de dentelle derrière; haute ceinture drapée. Manches ballon.

(4) Basque bodice, in purple satin, open over a tulle chemisette, covered by a shell flap in white lace. High collar with lace bow behind; high draped belt. Balloon sleeves.

—

(5) Toilette de lainage bois de rose. Corsage-boléro à grand col rabattu et brodé, ouvert sur une chemisette de surah or.

Col drapé montant, d'où s'échappe un volant de dentelle. Manches ballon, à poignets plissés au-dessus du coude; haute ceinture de velours drapée et à pointe. Jupe plate, plissée derrière.

Chapeau rond, en paille, orné de ruban or, posé devant en oreilles d'ours, avec touffe de plumes d'autruche droites derrière.

(5) Rosewood woolen toilet. Bolero bodice with large folded-down and embroidered collar, open over a gold surah blouse.

High draped collar, from which a lace flounce escapes. Balloon sleeves, with pleated cuffs above the elbow; high draped velvet belt with a point. Flat skirt, pleated behind.

Round straw hat, decorated with gold ribbon, placed in front like bear ears, with a tuft of straight ostrich feathers behind.

Métrage: 10 mètres lainage grande largeur.

—

(6) Corsage-blouse, en mousseline de soie rose montant et tout froncé sous ceinture-corselet en velours ouvrage; bande transversale semblable au milieu du corsage; col Mercure. Manches gigot, en étoffe quadrillée.

(6) Blouse-bodice, in high pink silk muslin and all gathered under a velvet bodice-belt; similar transverse band in the middle of the bodice; Mercury collar. Leg-of-mutton sleeves, in checked fabric.

—

(7) Corsage drapé et croisé à la taille, en lainage pervenche, pointillé rouge; petit plastron semblable, brodé de petit velours rouge; col Mercure; haute ceinture de velours drapée, retenue par une boucle vieil argent. Manches gigot.

Chapeau canotier, orné de grandes coques de mousseline de soie d'où émergent deux oiseaux de paradis, posés en aigrette.

(7) Draped bodice crossed at the waist, in periwinkle wool, red dotted; similar small plastron, embroidered with small red velvet; Mercury collar; high draped velvet belt, held by an old silver buckle. Leg of mutton sleeves.

Boater hat, decorated with large silk muslin shells from which emerge two birds of paradise, posed in an aigrette.

—

(8) Corsage de surah paille froncé mis sous ceinture-corselet, en lainage paille et noir, terminée par un nœud de ruban, avec bas de ceinture en velours; col montant et pointe de guipure sur le corsage.

(8) Ruched straw surah bodice placed under a corset belt, in straw and black wool, finished with a ribbon bow, with velvet belt bottom; high collar and guipure point on the bodice.

Manches ballon, avec volants de dentelle.

—

(9) Toilette de soie brochée sur chaîne noir et or. Corsage-plastron retenu par une ceinture de ruban; col montant, avec volant de dentelle blanche.

Manches gigot. Jupe redingote, ouverte devant sur une jupe de soie unie or.

Chapeau petit Louis XVI, garni par une draperie plissée de mousseline de soie or, avec fleurs en cache-peigne et grandes plumes d'autruche, posées droites derrière.

(9) Brocaded silk toilet on black and gold chain. Bodice-plastron held by a ribbon belt; high collar, with white lace flounce.

Leg-of-mutton sleeves. Redingote skirt, open in front over a plain gold silk skirt.

Small Louis XVI hat, trimmed with pleated drapery of gold silk muslin, with comb-cover flowers and large ostrich feathers, placed straight behind.

Métrage: 13 mètres soie brochée, 3 mètres soie unie.

#La Mode nationale #19th century #1890s #1896 #on this day #September 26 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #gigot #corsage #collar

90 notes · View notes