#bridal registry

[janersm]

When I get married, I'm gonna register at Bank of America.

My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands by Chelsea Handler

[noirnolagirlmagicweddingbloghwba]

[carsonphillips]

Been a big week on the wedding planning front

[beehop]

have a friends bridal shower tomorrow and i have like no clue the social etiquette of it all i’m stressed

[rel124c41]

MONKEY BITE. floyd leech

SWEET CREAM, WET DREAM. floyd leech

DEJA VU. floyd leech

MONKEY BITE. floyd leech

requested by: anon / cake details: cheesecake (arranged marriage AU) with fresh fruit compute (hurt/comfort)

“Hey, why the long face?” You pass him one of the two — a new matching couple set — wine glasses that you received from the bridal registry. “C’mon, you knew it wasn’t going to be you.”

Floyd stays numbly silent. His suit is in disarray as usual. Tie like a boa around his neck and nostril blood speckled on his cuffs like sequins. Though, he does take the wine glass full of whiskey from you, so you suppose that is a small victory in the war that just happened in the reception hall. Making yourself comfortable, you sit down next to him, cupping your dress backside as you go down. 

“Aah,” you sigh, relieved to stop carrying your weight on taut, squeezing heels. Chin up, you observe the open ocean stretched out before the two of you. 

Floyd simply slumps deeper into the palm he is resting his cheek on. He is all languid tonight. His human limbs are loose like his skin has been stretched like baking dough. Acting like collapsing, dead weight, he simply tilts his wine glass more towards himself because he had accidentally let it drip on the cobblestone in his weak hold. All his fight is extinguished just like that? It’s only appropriate, you suppose.

Sipping your whiskey, you congratulate yourself on how well versed you’ve become in human limbs. A month ago, you would have broken an ankle in heels — honestly, more like stilettos! — like these. 

But, watching the unfurling waves that bounce back and forth under a pitch black sky, you think you would have preferred a childhood-dreamed wedding, with all your traditions, the pearl necklaces and the safety blanket of home. That one was probably one of the easiest sacrifices of a hundred that you have made in just one itty bitty month. A wave hits the sand hard and you take another gulp of whiskey. 

“He doesn’t love you.” 

Aren’t you at least going to look at me while talking? Turning back to the ocean, which Floyd is intently staring at, you reply, “Don’t be ridiculous. He has no obligation to love me.”

“‘To love and to cherish’. It’s right there in the vows.”

“You know those are nothing more than words to the both of us. Something that could happen, probably never will.” Still not looking at you, jeez. He had no problem staring at during the entire ordeal and now he wants to avoid eye contact. “Besides, what good is love?”

Love has yet to do you any favors. For infinity, it has been a leash on your person, and now after tying the compressive knot of a loveless marriage, you can be free of the loathsome tick of love. At that moment, you clink your wedding ring against your glass and gulp down a sphere of whiskey. 

“What about the love between us? Wasn’t that good?”

There it is; the pith of this. The central essence of why Floyd crawled over your husband’s stunned body like a starved predator and used his hand like a mechanical piston to hit, hit, hit until your husband’s nose bent into a curved sausage of red. He acted so raptorial when tearing apart your groom because there was love between the two of you. 

“No.” You finish the remaining whiskey quickly. With your thumb, you cover up the golden swirls that write out an eyesore word, Mrs., on your cup. “It was just teen romance. Fun but nothing of substance.”

Floyd throws his wine glass on the cobblestone. It is reminiscent of how violently he attacked early; his languid arm zaps into life and suddenly there are shards of glass spreading like an arching rainbow in front of your and Floyd’s expensive footwear. The gold, swirling Mr. is ineligible in the shining shambles. Back to silent it seems; he covers his mouth with both his hands and leans low into his hunch, groaning deeply like you shot him.

Waste of good moonshine. Fast-acting alcohol puppets your tongue. “Face it, Floyd. It was never going to work between us. I’m sophisticated, Floyd. You’re nothing but a brute. You eat fish raw off the bone; I dined on cooked surface food. I’m refined and you’re a slob. I live life in first class. You’re riding the coach. We weren’t gonna last.” 

Dating an eel-mer as a mermaid had to be one love’s tightest leash on you. It was never going to work. Differences between the two of you were too stark to ever blend together. When you intertwined hands, you could feel the corporal proof of how incompatible both of you were — the softness of neatly trimmed nails and delicate fingers held in the callousness of talons and dense, compact flesh.  

It had been a quaint experience but nothing of substance. 

Basking in the aftermath of your lies, you smile happily of how self-assured your speech sounded and how it sure swayed Floyd’s opinion. Positive that you had painted a convincing picture, you turn to find Floyd’s eyes on you. 

(It’s so unusual to see him with peach-toned skin. It will help that this will be the last face of his you will see; it would hurt more to depart viewing his original face.)

“Then why ya cryin’?”

“Crying?” That must be some human expression that you are not yet familiarized with. “I don’t think I’m doing that.”

He points to his own — there are little snakes of red in the whites of his — and declares, “you’re cryin’ and leakin’ up a rainstorm.” You touch your dry face. “Hah, made you check.”

You huff, humorless. Typical Floyd. He used to pull a trick similar to that when both of you were growing toddlers. That’s all over now. You swirl an empty glass and watch one droplet spin at the bottom. 

“You’re gonna be miserable.”

“Yeah, I am.” Smiling, you raise your Mrs. — absent and incomplete with it’s broken Mr. —  and say, “That’s why I got this sweetheart. I’ll be less miserable with her.” 

You two sit in silence after that declaration. Reality sets in like a bruise. The fast-paced alcoholic talks are done and the fast-paced sober fights are finished. Simultaneously, the both of you look at your childhood home extended out in cobalt pulses. What a beauty the ocean is from the surface; a blue, shriveled heart that bleeds and bleeds.

“Your … that guy, knows nothin’ about merfolk tradition.” You turn, intrigued, but Floyd is still watching the waves of childhood. “He didn’t get you a single courtin’ gift, so I can tell he’s dumb as a stone boat. Ya don’t got a single necklace on you. Your parents know nothing about the surface. Not zilch. They rarely travel up here, so …”

So? You wait as Floyd turns towards you. “So, we can make an excuse for this. Say ya got bit by some other animal.” Your blue heart beats like a blitzkrieg bongo as Floyd trails a finger diagonally along your neck before grasping the middle between your left cleavage and left shoulder. He lingers there, warmth shared by your combined flesh.

When he leans in, palm pressing in the white petals of your bridal dress, you figure out his intent quite quickly. A good girl would protest. I’m married! I just got married today, for Seven sake! You don’t think those thoughts as you lean, exposing more of your neck to Floyd. As his breath warms your shoulder, you put in one last joke for old time sake, “The mosquitos are huge this time of year.” 

“Haven’t ya heard? The zoo let some rabid monkeys out and they’re on the loose.”

You giggle, for the first time in twenty-four hours, and look towards the ocean as Floyd bites in, scarring you with love, in the form of two puncture holes in your neck.

SWEET CREAM AND WET DREAM. floyd leech

requested by: anon / cake details: marble cake (NRC) with citrus glaze (smut) and edible flowers (fluff)

You are sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, staring down an erect penis. Salivating.

This has to be the beginning of a work by Shakespeare. Written in his own blood – something primitively disgusting and erotic. Yet, it is a labor of the body which is why the pen is inked with genuine, honest sanguine. Taken from a wrist or a chest.

Or, you could just be very pulled by hunger. Your first sight of a penis makes your stomach rumble, starved. 

Go with the more artistic one, you decide just as large hands rest upon your hips, pulling you backwards. 

But, Shakespeare interrupts, this did not start with you sitting nude on your boyfriend’s stomach, sizing up the dimensions and shape of what you desired more than anything to put in your mouth. It started with –

Turn off the stove. I haven’t seen ya all summer, Shrimpyyy.

From Ramschakle’s renovated cooking station, courtesy of long hours at Mostro Lounge, you glance away from the stove. The aroma is magnetizing and thick. Sizzling pops are musical like siren calls. You cannot comprehend why he wants you to turn it off. Before your eyes, Floyd leans against the countertop, chin set on top of crossed arms. Boyish and in love with you, he stares back with half-lidded, amorous intent. 

The toothpick in your mouth makes a question quirk up because – why would I turn off the stove when dinner isn't close to being ready? 

Haven’t got to taste ya all summer long either. 

Something moves within your viscera like a giant, slithering tapeworm. It is a scarlet warmth. 

It is a quick melange of sounds that add together like ingredients. Faint click of the stove, switched off. Harsh hit of hip-bone on countertop. Rustling thump as a freshly untied apron collides with ground. It is all overwhelmed by the groan Floyd lets out as you two collide at the kitchen island. Your toothpick is still in your mouth, held messily on the junction of your mouth’s right side, pressing and hurting the skin.

You cannot kiss with your tongue around the pick. So, Floyd takes the outward point in his fingers and draws it through your lips like unlocking a zipper. Obedient, your mouth falls open with his ministrations. 

He places the toothpick on the bed of your tobacco-flavored tongue. His golden eye stares at your dangling uvula. 

Say aaaah. 

His intentions are: silly.

Aaaah. 

Your intentions are: serious. 

Fluid and lubricious as cooking oil, you two kiss. Floyd throws the toothpick away, not caring where it ends up in your house. Then, after shedding more of your clothes, you two end up here on the plate of your mattress. 

It is a really pretty cock. 

Standing before you in full attention, the weight of it in your curious hand sends a small shiver down your spine … and sends a large shiver down Floyd’s as you watch the muscle in his thighs tighten up. There is a slight right taper to it. Holding it at the base, you stare down at the bulbous head that almost arrows itself up towards your mouth. The anticipation and speculation of your boyfriend’s cock’s flavor profile leaves a sweet metaphorical taste of your tongue. Guessing is as fun as knowing. 

Thrill numbs out a majority of your nerves. You feel like one, big, blue-white neuron. Though you can section out the feeling of your abdomen clenching hard when you feel Floyd move your knees so they are settled by his head rather than below his armpits. 

Salvia is so thick in your mouth it feels like a second tongue. At least you know you will have enough natural lubricant. 

Just as you open your mouth, lips glistening from previous kisses, a tongue oscillates down the center of your sex. And, deterring from your original goal, caught off guard, you moan brokenly with a sharp gasp. That’s what a tongue feels like? Oh OH — you are going to devour Floyd whole.

Two hands curl up around your hips, fingers digging on the bottom hook of each designated asscheek, palms squeezing flesh. Just as his tongue departs from the midline’s end at your anus, Floyd dives just back into your wet center and attempts to suction up all your slick like his tongue is a napkin.

You would almost feel bad about your knee-jerk reaction if it didn’t immediately speed up Floyd’s tongue. Caught off guard, still in the middle of your sharp gasp, your body unconsciously pushes itself back as far as it can, suffocating Floyd. Chasing indulgence and never pulling away from it. You pin him firm between the mattress and your pussy.

Quickly, you go to lift up. That motion is snuffed when Floyd’s fingers tighten on your ass and pulls you down harshly. “Flo- ah — Floyd, you don't have to. Mmh … Oh my god … !!”

Biting your own lip, you think you feel the letters of stay grumbled into your lower lips. 

Even though it sends an earthquake through the miles of your intestines, it does not distract you from your intent. You are not the only one starving. Teeth from a wrist bracelet made long ago, ivory-speckled-brown like elephant tusks, jingle as you grip onto the shaft of his cock. Your own teeth part as you slowly slide Floyd up on the mattress of your tongue. 

In the neurological wave, your heart stops … then jackrabbits in doubletime. 

It tastes like running your tongue over a block of salt. Tentatively, you spiral your tongue around in short swings, lapping up the precum already coating him. The musky scent of sex wafts up from him like perfume. Right away, you are smitten with the taste and aroma that has greeted you.

Because it is the taste of Floyd, and you love Floyd dearly to the point of devouring. 

It is an ouroboros of pleasure — a never-ending circular connection of moans and licks on each other’s hot, dripping genitals — that goes round and round. When a moan vibrates on Floyd’s dick, it sends an eruption of a heated gasp across your folds. When a thick groan hums onto your clit, you are left moaning whorish around the cock in your mouth. Back and forth with a heartbeat of cannibalism between the both of you. Devouring the most sacred parts within your mouths. 

Floyd spits and giggles. He brings up little beads of salvia from his throat before smoothing them out over the folds of your labia. His affection towards you leaves him pressing fat kisses on your clit and sharp thrusts with his tongue up in your vagina.

It’s vulgar. Primitive. As you said before, something written in the blood of poets. Something smeared with jam-like red. A fun and lovey-dovey brutality. 

Eventually, those tentative licks evolve into more. A mixture of precum and saliva follows your brief pop-off Floyd’s dick before you go down messily — the sounds are squelching like stepping in a pool of wet, glistening organs, the loud hollow muffle of your moan creaking — until it hits that fated uvula. Floyd’s spine arches like a girl’s, like he is your bitch, when you suck hard.

Then, you start bobbing. It is almost instinctual as a symphony of moans and licks play itself against your slick which dribbles, dribbles, and dribbles across Floyd’s face. A warmth spreads through your neuron-body as a large palm reaches down to rub at your shoulder, not even pushing or pulling, just a light massage to feel the heat of your body. The gesture makes you feel dizzy with love.

I love you I love you I love you — right there right there rightthererightthere! Your body jumps like it was shot as Floyd sucks roughly on your clit like it’s hard candy.

It is evolving more and more into vigorous fucking. The poem is losing its stanzas and the order of words has become jumbled. Your sexual ouroboros is burning a hot white hue as the sounds in the room grow grosser and grosser. 

You damn near choke yourself on him as you fiercely rub up and down the length you cannot fit in your mouth, the side of your hand repeatedly hitting and splashing the wet puddle on his ballsack, filling yourself up to your heart’s content. “Shrim— Shrimpy — I’m gonna ! Mmh mmh mhh! I’m —!” God or Sevens or whoever, you cannot wait until he explodes in your mouth. 

Me too Me too Don’t stop Don’t stop! You think in response to Floyd’s brief … well, he probably meant it as a warning but you take it as a blessing, knowing you get to swallow his cum soon. An involuntary moan from just the mere thought bristles around Floyd’s dick. Bobbing eagerly, you suck harder and harder with each passing second, feeling the heartbeat in his dick pulsing.

There is a smidgen of lightheadedness seeping in, fracturing your body into pieces. You are doing a poor job on remembering to keep your breathing even. That dizziness makes you feel like a stretched plain of cotton until you congeal together, hard and fast, rushing into an orgasm when Floyd zig-zags his tongue roughly on your clit.

It is almost poetic how you both cum at the same second. Because as soon as you realize that feeling of snapping in your viscera, a tidal wave bursts up into your mouth.

You gasp and cough around his cockhead, relishing the warm liquid in your mouth. Almost completely off his shaft, you take the head in your mouth and lap up everything he is giving you. It comes in forceful squirts and you have to hold down Floyd’s bucking hips to savor the moment.

You swallow all of it, gorging yourself on your boyfriend’s salty-sweet tang essence. Even then it is not enough for your appetite; thus, you begin to lap at his shaft, making sure you clean up everything. 

So enamored with the taste of him, you do not even realize what is happening behind and beneath you until you hear a choked out “To - uuk — Too sensitiveeee!” Floyd groans, his hands squeezing and lifting up your ass as you nurse at his cock. You almost get a knee to the forehead when one of his legs involuntarily pulls up in pain with the overstimulation.

You keep eating until you’ve had your fill.

DEJA VU. floyd leech

requested by: anon / cake details: genoise sponge  (specific to requester: time loop AU) with fresh fruit compote (hurt/comfort) and sprinkles (specific to requester)

Unusually, Floyd Leech took a shine to you right away – and with no difficulty either. 

It almost seems like he has been waiting a long time to become friends with you. The nickname Shrimpy! slides out his mouth easily. His dominant left hand repeatedly finds your shoulder as if the two pieces of flesh were magnetized together. He shows up when you need help most, as if your body pulses out distress signals directly to him.

You didn’t know what to make of this at first. To you, the dimensions of Floyd Leech are off kilter like puzzle pieces of a picture forced into wrong spots. When you squint at him, an innate stomach-ache makes you feel something is off with how he presents himself.

It is the oddest and strongest sensation of déjà vu. 

His face will shift and morph into some expression — laughing, scowling, craving — and you can swear you’ve seen him make that exact face before. It is like seeing copies upon copies of his face, stretching into nebulous creams and teals, yet never being able to identify where you first saw him make such a face before. 

A melting, water paint portrait of creams and teals is what greets you again because you’re crying hard enough to distort your vision and you can’t make the expression on Floyd’s face. You’re sure it is one you’ve seen before. 

 “It’s just so sad!” You bawl out. The small paperback in your hand is squeezed tight enough to crinkle the pages. “I’m never gonna read another book again!” On the verge of hysteria, you slam your borrowed library book on Floyd’s desk.

In response to your despair, Floyd offers nothing more than a musical, high-falsetto laugh that winds itself around the dormitory like one, long note. He is rather unsympathetic to your plight. Though, he does wish to reach out to scoop up the tears on your cheek and taste them on his tongue. He won’t … yet.

“Ya such a crybaby, Shrimpy. It ain’t nothing but a story.” 

The hacky sack hits his palm, emitting a sharp crunch of beads. Floyd throws it up to the ceiling, emitting a sharp thunk of wood. In the underbelly of this repetitive sound is you sniffing to yourself. You are trying to be as silent as possible, but the tears keep coming steady and hard. 

“To just keep forgetting like that,” you hiccup into your uniform sleeve. “I wouldn’t wish that upon anybody. It’s just too sad.” 

“You’re really moved by this, aren’t ya, Shrimpy?”

“Mmm.”

The book you rented from the library – because you were almost always in the library, nose in books, mostly ranging from teleportation spells to opening gates of the Underworld to anything resembling interdimensional travel – was five short chapters. Something about a pair of sappy lovers. Something about one of them being immortal and the other reincarnating in a cycle. Something about memories. Floyd can’t remember it fully; it wasn’t interesting enough for him.

His gaze simply had skimmed over the summary when you handed it to him. It’s not like Floyd was going to read a book like that. Action novels reeled in his interest, not romance. His heterochromic eyes glide over the arch of his pillowcase to view your meek visage.

It feels like some kind of cavernous hunger of Floyd’s is fed watching you cry. Slow droplets thread down your face like molasses out of a bottle’s mouth. Back arched like a shrimp’s, you cry in his desk chair yet don’t rub away those tasty tears. Mournful of something you never experienced – weird. 

Floyd catches his hacky sack without checking its angle of descent and comments, “Humans are always forgetful. Half of the Lounge’s lost and found goes to me and Jade because no one remembers anything anymore.” Even his new hacky sack is from those pyramiding stacks of boxes of forgotten objects.

You sniffle, nose scrunching like a snout. Hands are folded stiffly on your lap, cold and dry, cracked like crocodile skin. “What? So you’re some kind of perfect being?”

“Yep. Couldn’t get more better than me, hehe.”

“More better?”

“I’m better than better.”

That at least makes you crack a tiny smile, wobbly as it may be. The bottom of your eyes are still puffy and those snail trails of slow saltwater have yet to stop. Flimsy eyes glance away from Floyd’s gaze to the swirling, tentacle pattern on the dorm floor. “It’s just so sad … and odd. That sensation of being in a room and being able to swear that you’ve been there before. Even the conversations … seem identical to another time.”

“And the people?”

“Yes, the people too.” Tearful eyes search the violet tentacle as if you expect it to unravel and reveal something. 

Suddenly, you spring forward on Floyd’s desk chair, as if in revelation. The back legs lift slightly off the ground as you lean in close. Still untouched, the warm trails are visible on your face. “And, isn’t that so odd!

“I just can’t wrap my head around it. You spend time creating memories. You spend time having conversations and creating relationships. You spend time being. And, all that time just, what? Goes and slithers down a drain, and you don’t get it back?”

Floyd blinks at you. Spots of flushed skin rest in the center of your temple and on each cheek. Your skin glistens in hot hues. “Eh, some things are just more important to others.” Floyd untucks his arm from behind his head, reaches out with his index, and wipes under your right eye.

He licks up the saltwater on his finger’s side like licking residue off a fork as you say, “I could never forgive myself if I did something like that to someone.”

The hunger to recapture past moments. It is quite an intense craving. Floyd takes his thumb and smears a crescent smile in the water under your left eye.

“C’mon, Shrimpy.” He licks his thumb. “You’re just the type of person that would do that to someone.”

[fandomfanservice]

Wandee Goodday Fandom, are you doing ok?

Did we get blessed today or what?

Dear Fandom: If you have been gifted with exceptional writing skills and you aren’t writing or drafting a Wandee Goodday Prince AU fanfic in Ao3 right now, why aren’t you? For the love of all of our sanity pick up your pen or keyboard and produce!!!

Shout out to the marriage equality act and great job P’Golf. Just one note…

OYei, beautiful proposal but it wasn’t the invisible ring that was missing. It was you not dragging (correction -bridal carrying) our angel Cher straight to the registry office the nano second after he said I do. Oyei, you marry that beautiful human right now!!!

In closing episode 8 you did great, the necklace is where it belongs. 🥹🥹

Best Grandma and Best Friend back being….the best😉

Yak is a hero and finally confessed the most obvious worst kept secret. 💜

Dr Douche Bye!🤣

And my personal Roman Empire, dancing in BL happened sooo beautifully. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

💜🥊🌈

🇹🇭🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🖤🩶🤍🤎🇹🇭

[useless-catalanfacts]

What would Kitri (Quiteria) from Marius Petipa's Ballet 'Don Quixote' have worn for her everyday attire and bridal gown, considering her background as the "beauty of the town" from Barcelona, the daughter of a housekeeper, and her role as Don Quixote's imagined Dulcinea and Basilio's bride? Please search "DON QUIXOTE 💃: The drama, plot, and history of ballet's brightest gem ✨✨" regarding the ballet.

I've read the book but I haven't seen the ballet. What I'm understanding from this question is that you would like to know what the historically accurate dress would have been for that character? I've seen a part of that video you mention and I can see why you're asking, since the clothes they wear don't look appropriate for Don Quijote at all (they wear very 19th century Andalusian clothes for a story that is very famously set in La Mancha).

We have this information to work with: 1) she's from Barcelona, 2) the setting is the early 1600s, 3) she's the daughter of a housekeeper so she's lower class, and 4) the occasions for her clothes are an everyday wear and her wedding.

Luckily, a Catalan tailor called Baltasar Segovia (from Perpinyà, Northern Catalonia) published a treatise in the year 1617 titled "Geometry book for the job of a tailor", where he explains how they make the clothes, including the patrons. This is how the historian Francesc Riart has drawn them (I'm taking these images from his article "Una evolució en imatges"):

Figures of a middle-class man and woman, from the images of the time.

Women's dress shapes, without the additions, from the patrons by Baltasar Segovia's treatise.

I think this is the kind of dress could work as a wedding dress at the time. Remember that the idea of a white wedding dress originated very recently (Victorian England) and wasn't widespread here until a couple generations ago (personally, neither my mother nor grandmother married in a white dress) and even then it was a class issue, because that's a kind of dress you wouldn't be able to wear again. The wedding dresses used to be a nicer dress, often the one that could be worn on Sundays.

Our main information for lower class clothes is written sources and art, because the pieces of clothing that have survived this many centuries are a clear case of survivorship bias: they were worn little, made of good-quality resisting material, and they were considered worthy enough to keep as they are instead of recycling the cloth. Poorer people would have worn the clothes until they're broken, adding patches or repairing them as needed, and then would have recycled what was still good of that cloth.

The clothes used by most of the population back then were made of flax or wool (cotton wouldn't be widely used until the proliferation of chintz factories starting in the mid-1700s). Though texts of the time mention that fashion in Catalonia included pieces made in a specific Catalan way ("a la Catalana"), same as each part of Europe had their own way (documents at the time show that people could easily recognise the difference between a Catalan-style and a Spanish-style piece of clothing), in general the clothes were very similar to the clothes worn in other parts of Western Europe. One thing that was widespread for religious and reputation reasons was that married women had to cover their hair, but before marriage it didn't have to be covered but it was generally tied back (not only for fashion but also for hygienic reasons).

In the early 1600s, outer clothes tended to be dark gray (this would quickly change throughout that century and by the late 1600s people wore very bright colours, including the lower class).

One of the ways we have of knowing what ordinary people wore is to look at the registries of people who used the Barcelona public hospital (I'm checking the data as published by Francesc Riart in the article "Una evolució en imatges"). In 1618-1619:

89% of women wore a chemise/shirt

Over this, they would wear a skirt and lower class women very often wore an apron.

68% of women covered their hair with a "tovalloleta", 28% covered it with a "manto", and 10% with a "drap de cap", all of them being different kinds of kerchiefs.

Their clothes in winter and in summer were almost the same. They wore more socks and leggings in winter and the percentage of people who wore closed shoes instead of espadrilles ("espardenyes") rose in winter, but the rest was pretty much the same. The difference between seasonal clothes was likely higher in upper classes, but people who used the public hospital are mostly poor and some middle class.

In the city, most people wore closed shoes instead of espadrilles, which were the standard in the countryside.

An idea for the dress could be a mix of these two, with the dress in the left but slightly darker, and since we're in the very early 1600s it could still have a riff (the neck thing) like the one on the right.

Left: painting of Mary as a child weaving, from 1600s Catalonia. Right: painting from the late 1500s or early 1600s Catalonia, representing the "ideal woman" (in an extremely misogynist way). Both from Ethnologic Museum of Catalonia.

As for jewellery, lower class people often wore jewellery made of glass or metal mixes. Many have been found in archaeological sites in Barcelona like El Born and Santa Caterina.

I hope this answers your question!

[spurgie-cousin]

Do we know when the Tim-Heidi wedding is? I feel like the engagement was soo long ago, especially for fundies. I don’t do Reddit,so not sure if there’s updates there? Bridal shower? Registry? I’ve seen nothing and I’m still desperate for the Jill/Ellen/Heidi tea

According to reddit it's September 14th of this year, and I'm assuming they know from Facebook since Tim has his own now. But honestly not sure since I kinda avoid the Rod reddit page

[eva-knits12]

Chris Evans Character Shopping At Target

Steve Rogers:

Steve is curious, as he's never seen or been in Target.

You go on a weekday, when there's less people.

You make a list of what you need.

You also need to create a gift registry for your baby shower.

Steve is confused by that.

"What happened to just people bringing you gifts?"

"This prevents people from buying a similar item," you say.

You take the Talzon and register for things like clothes for James, bibs, toys, nursery decor, onesies, even books and toys to help with James development.

Steve is amazed by this.

You buy the items that are on the list.

Steve is also amazed by the Starbucks and the cafe.

He's never had a frozen Coke before, so he tries one. You only want lemonade, since you're thirsty, and just want lemonade.

Steve orders your drinks, but you have to go to the ladies room because James has a habit of sitting on your bladder.

When you come out, James starts kicking.

Not only does he love being active first thing in the morning, he's more active and kicks a lot more when Steve's around!

Steve gets up to help you in the chair, but he puts his hand on your bump to feel his son kick and move.

Steve's face lights up like a child's on Christmas morning when he feels his son kick and move.

"Hey, James. Be good to Mama. Stop sitting on her bladder and kicking her all the time. It's not nice. Mama needs her rest."

Steve can't wait to come back to Target when James is born.

Ransom Drysdale

Ransom has never been to Target.

He's curious.

He's sees that the logo is actually a bullseye, and the mascot is a dog with a bullseye on one of it's eyes.

He thinks it's cute, but he doesn't like dogs.

You're in there because you need to get some things.

Ransom is amazed by the size of the store.

He goes to the men's department because he needs underwear, socks, some basic T-shirts, and some other things.

You're in the store's mobility scooter.

You need a few items. You go to the beauty department, and get your favorite mascara, primer, moisturizer, and you even get a few groceries.

You even get some lip balm and some lip gloss.

Ransom meets in the grocery department, and he helps you get the groceries you need.

When you get back to your Lexus SUV, Ransom loads the items in it that he paid for.

You get in the SUV, but Ransom drives.

You're just so tired after a Target trip.

MS does that to you at times.

You fall asleep on the ride home.

When you get back home, Ransom carries you back to the house, bridal style.

You sleep until lunch.

You go back to sleep and don't wake up until dinner.

Who knew that a Target trip just wore you out like this?

A chronic illness does!

You go through a lot on a daily basis because of your MS.

Ransom holds you close to him while you sleep.

He wouldn't trade this for the world.

He can't wait to go back to Target.

Andy Barber

You and Andy go to Target.

Andy's excited because he's never been to Target since before he was married to Laurie.

Laurie didn't see the need to go to Target, since Any made six figures, and wanted to show off her status as a Boston housewife.

You're different.

You LOVE Target.

You once worked at Target when you were in high school, and you even worked at Target as a seasonal employee when you were attending Boston College to help you earn some Christmas and pocket money.

You and Andy register for wedding gifts.

You have to go to the ladies room to throw up.

You're pregnant with Joy, but the hyperemesis gravidarum makes you so sick, that you need to know where the ladies room or family bathroom is at all times.

You're done throwing up, so you rejoin Andy.

Andy has gotten you some peppermint tea at the Starbucks.

It helps soothe your nausea.

You and Andy start to register for gifts, when you have to throw up again.

You don't know how you can do this, but you need to conquer it.

You finish registering for gifts, and you even get a pack of peppermint tea, peppermint candies, ginger chews, ginger ale, ginger snaps.

Plus, you get the antinausea meds that your doctor prescribed later because Andy had to rush you to the hospital again.

You're hospitalized because your hyperemesis gravidarum is really bad.

You passed out in Target.

"Sweetheart? Sweetheart?"

You wake up in the hospital.

Andy won't leave your side.

You go home a few days later, even though you're still not out of the woods yet.

Andy takes you back to Target, and you get some maternity clothes, some groceries, and you manage not to pass out or throw up.

Andy and you fall in love even more.

You fall asleep when you get home, and Andy just holds you close to him.

Colin Shea

Colin and you LOVE shopping at Target.

You're feeling so much better!

You're five months pregnant with Harper.

You've finally done at the doctor's and got your ultrasound.

It's revealed that you and Colin are welcoming a baby girl.

But, you go to Target way later than you planned.

You're pregnant and sick with the flu.

So, you celebrate by getting over the flu, and having a girl by going to Target.

You register for baby shower gifts, and get invitations for the baby shower.

You even get a few beauty items for yourself.

Colin gets some T-shirts, and you get some maternity clothes.

Colin and you eat lunch in the cafe, but Colin is also making you laugh.

You're both eating hot dogs, but split the churros.

When you get home, you put on Colin's sweats because "baby prefers yours."

Colin and you wouldn't trade this for the world.

Jake Jensen

Jake and you go to Target with Anna and Elsa.

Anna and Elsa LOVE Target.

They get excited when they see that they're in the Target parking lot.

They start squealing when you and Jake get them out of the car, and hold their tiny hands to walk into Target.

"ARGET! ARGE"

They do that on repeat.

You both get new sets of cloths, new socks, diapers, new shoes, and some baby shampoo, baby lotion, and even some snacks and some groceries for dinner tonight.

Jake and the girls look at some toys.

The girls gravitate toward anything electronic, and squeal every time one of them makes a noise.

You and Jake get them some toys and books to help with their development.

Dad has more fun with the toys than Anna and Elsa.

The girls love chicken tacos, and you cut some up for them in bite sized pieces.

The girls also love peas and corn and apple slices.

You pay for the purchase, and you even buy those churros that the girls love.

You and Jake go to the cafe, and get the girls some churros.

"Urros! Churrios!"

The girls are excited when they have churros!

You and Jake can't wait for the next Target run.

Johnny Storm

Johnny and you go to Target to register for gifts for Jake's baby shower.

Johnny and you choose onesies, clothes, socks, diapers, cute pacifiers, even cute shoes for Jake.

"AWWW, look at these cute, little sneakers," says Johnny.

"Those are cute, but those are for girls," you say.

Johnny finds some gender-appropriate shoes.

"AWWW. These are perfect for our little champ," says Johnny.

Jake is kicking up a storm, and often kicks a lot when he hears Johnny's voice.

"Are you saying hi to Daddy, Jake?" you say.

Jake kicks in response.

You high tail it to the ladies room because Jake decided to head butt you in the bladder.

Johnny talks to your bump when you return.

"Jake, you can't keep headbutting mommy in the bladder. It's not nice," says Johnny.

Jake kicks in response, and Johnny feels his son kick.

"That's my boy!" says Johnny.

You and Johnny finish the registry.

You fall asleep on the ride home.

Johnny carries you back inside, and he places you in bed.

He pulls the covers up over you, and just watches you sleep.

Johnny and you wouldn't trade this for the world.

Pete Brenner

You and Pete go to Target to register for wedding gifts.

You and Pete also decide to get a few groceries and you also get a few baking supplies.

You and Pete are hosting a brunch for his mom's birthday.

Which is great, because she already sees you as a daughter.

Your mom joins you guys, too.

You register for towels, decor items, furniture items, throw pillows, hand towels, cutlery, dinnerware, housewares, and even throw pillows.

It's a fun day.

The bridal shower is going to be held at your parents house.

You can save on costs this way, plus you'll have the majority of the tables because your brother and sister-in-law's baby shower was the week before.

You didn't need a fancy venue.

But, you and Pete are paying for the food to be catered.

His sister-in-law insists on baking the cake.

She's a pastry chef by trade, but is now a SAHM.

So, this gives her a chance to use her skills.

Plus, this is her gift.

She's also baking the wedding cake.

You've invited your family, your and Pete's friends, family friends, Pete's family and family friends, even your brother and SIL.

You still have a lot to do before the wedding, which is ten weeks away.

You and Pete take another trip to Target to get some basic necessities.

Pete and you can't wait for another trip to Target when you're both married.

Next year, you and Pete find out you're pregnant with Zoe, and you register for baby shower gifts.

You and Pete couldn't be happier.

[funnypages]

I don’t think AIDS was on the bridal registry

[gamebird]

My brain has been terminally poisoned by Tumblr/internet. I'm looking at this bridal gift registry for one of my relatives and it's called 'The Knot'.

[fashionbooksmilano]

Ann Lowe

American Couturier

Elizabeth Way

Contributions by Heather Hodge and Laura Mina and Margaret Powell and Katya Roelse and Katherine Sahmel

Rizzoli Electa, New York 2023, 208 pages, 23.6x28.68cm, ISBN 9780847873142

euro 60,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

The definitive illustrated volume on the work and life of Ann Lowe, a consummate couturier who designed lavish evening and bridal gowns for members of America’s social registry, a Black woman working hard behind the scenes whose important legacy has remained underappreciated—until now.

At the height of her fashion career, Ann Lowe’s luxurious and opulent evening gowns and bridal wear were sold in upscale department stores across the country. At various times Lowe owned salons on Madison Avenue. She made Jackie Kennedy’s wedding and bridesmaids’ dresses, but, upon arrival at the Auchincloss estate on the big day, the butler directed Lowe to enter via the service entrance (she refused). Throughout her lifetime (c. 1898–1981), her major contributions to American style were unrecognized.

Vivid new photography of Lowe’s couture gowns—including lush details of her exquisite handwork and signature floral embellishments—accompany essays that explore the trials and achievements of Lowe’s life, contextualize her work within fashion history, profile Black designers whose work reflects her influence, and offer a behind-the-scenes look at the extraordinary efforts to preserve Lowe’s gowns.

25/04/24

[marleysfinest]

hello muvva!!!

i'm here to formally invite you to my wedding with satosugu! i'm curious to know who you're bringing and what you're wearing. here are some colors that line up with our color scheme if you want some inspo:

we look forward to seeing you! 💜

FALLON STOP THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!!! I need so many details I love weddings oh my god ok let me compose myself.

I will be bringing one reiner braun who will be suited and booted as such as directed by me to adhere to the themes:

he doesn’t oft choose a double-breasted jacket because his titties don’t usually fit BUT there are exceptions and this is one!!!! I will be matching thusly with THE giambattista valli H&M dress (which on reflection I hope now isn’t too bridal):

and we will be bringing whatever gift you would like!!! do u have a registry????

[1000-directions]

good stuff 1-6-24

had very good coffee and avocado toast today and really liked reading my book

it was maybe supposed to snow today and maybe supposed to snow tomorrow so i made sure to take out all my trash and get groceries instead of like continuing to put them off like i've been doing

i made instant ramen for uhhhhhh the first time? idk i've just never made it and i always see tips for how to doctor it and i've never tried it so today i decided to try it. so i sautéed some garlic and ginger and green onions in some oil and then cooked the noodles in half broth, half water and stirred in some chopped bok choy. and then in the bowl i put some chili sauce, sesame oil, soy sauce, and lots and lots of cilantro, and then i poured the hot soup over it, and it was good and easy! i wanted to try doing something with egg but figured i should keep it simpler the first time and then go from them. it was a very gloomy and dreary day, and ramen was a perfect cozy meal for the weather.

my family asked me to make a gift registry for my birthday, and part of me is INTENSELY uncomfortable at the idea of like, asking people for gifts, like even having the audacity to think people would want to get me stuff lol. but i have also always wanted to make a registry and i have gone to so many bridal showers and baby showers and weddings and housewarmings for these people over the years and i have not had any kind of party for myself since i was a kid, and my kitchen stuff is either garbage quality, secondhand from someone else after they got married, or something i splurged on for myself. it was nice to think about what i would like to have if i actually got to CHOOSE.

[pawsitivevibe]

My mom wanted me to make a gift registry for the bridal shower. The wedding registry is apparently not the same. Okay fine whatever. I made one at Ren's Pets and only put dog grooming tools on it. Haha.

[fundielicious-simblr]

(Lana's POV)

Here are the final invites that were sent out to our guests, we did a combination of online invites and mailed in invites. Those who received theirs online can rsvp through our wedding website, and the invitations through the mail have a phone number to contact with the number of people attending and their meal choices. It's been a whirlwind trying to get things planned for the wedding, we're having the ceremony outside on church grounds. Thankfully the church has a large acreage, so there will be space for anticipated 500-550 guests we're going to have. The reception is planned for a banquet hall close to the church, so the guests can head there immediately after the ceremony whilst we take our pictures. We're praying for clear skies, low humidity, and a somewhat of a cool breeze for the ceremony, since Oasis Springs is quite warm in the Spring.

(AN: We're going to ignore the continuity error of the floor being different colours, I'm not going back into the game to change this cause i've already repurposed the room for different pictures 😂)

My church family at New Life Oasis Baptist threw Parker and me, (but let's be honest here, mainly me) a wonderful bridal shower! The ladies rushed us to get our registry done so they could buy off of our registry. They gracefully planned it to happen before I started moving my things over to our new home, we decided we're going to stay in Newcrest. Right now we're going to be renting an apartment until we find a house we like, it might be we end up finding a house in Newcrest or we move elsewhere. It was definitely an emotional day as my church family came together to celebrate me entering a new season of life, I grew up with a most of the people who attended with them serving as guidance counselors, friends, and some great sources of wisdom. My pastor and his wife gave Parker and I such a great devotional for us to go through in these stages before and after we get married, which we've enjoyed doing either in person or on video conference.

Mom Collins and the ladies of Newcrest Baptist also did a wedding shower for us, they also called it a 'welcoming' party for me into their church. They planned for it to be at my last visit before the wedding, so that I'd come back to my gifts when we move into our new home. I'm so excited to start married life in Newcrest, over the past year that I've been visiting the people here have been so welcoming that I feel right at home. Macie, Annette, and Ashton have graciously volunteered to help move our stuff into the house whilst we're on our honeymoon. Our honeymoon is planned for Sulani and I can't hardly wait! Parker's aunt Harley and her husband Gabriel, and his uncle and his wife Keira bought us our trip to Sulani. There's only a few weeks left until Parker and I are officially man and wife!