#john bright collection

[fashionsfromhistory]

Mantle

Early 1870s

This mantle appears to have been made from a wool shawl woven with broad bands of boteh motifs, originally with a central medallion now cut in half at the base of each side to fall attractively over arms in wear, and quarter medallions at each corner that are now placed at each side of the centre front and back of the garment.

Shawls striped with pattern, sometimes known as zebra shawls, were an alternative to the ubiquitous style of broad borders to a plain ground or central motif. Particularly popular from the 1820s to the 1860s they were produced by European manufacturers as well as the original Indian avid Kashmiri centres.

John Bright Collection

[artschoolglasses]

Men's wool coat, 1790s

The John Bright Collection

[awindinthelantern]

Evening dress, 1908-09. John Bright Collection.

[lacewise]

The website continues on and does confirm it’s an 1860s original. John Bright just got it by way of other costume designers, like a lot of other items. It’s a notable part of the history so it’s included.

Dress

early 1860s

Warp-printed silk, trimmed with lace, net and braid

“The dress originally belonged to the late costume designer Shirley Russell, the first wife of the director Ken Russell and with whom she worked on most of his early films. They met at college and married in 1957.

Shirley Russell wore this dress to be photographed by her husband on their honeymoon in Yorkshire”

The John Bright Collection

[hide-your-bugs-away]

Quite a zoo you got there, Connie... 👀🐾

(more photos under the cut!)

[dmitriene]

cw: possible dubcon, breeding and pregnancy, predator and prey, reader is a dummy.

bear hybrid john price with a bunny hybrid, you're just a pair of fluffy ears and displayed, pure innocence, curious thing that lives in a rather cruel forest, spending your evenings in your nest, and bright mornings while munching at some goods you picked up.

a peaceful, simple life, until your curios fluffy ass found some problems on your own tail, deciding to inspect some further part of the forest, and unbeknownst to yourself, finding your way to the price's nest, a one big, lazy bear.

john is not one for the problems, he enjoys his own peacefulness as much as you, stretched lazily on some fluffy furs and snoring away, until his nose catches a whiff of your cloying scent, his round ears fluttering immediately, small tail stirring slightly.

he doesn't like when someone wanders outside his nest, not to say about the inside, where he arranges everything neatly for his long rests and collects some fruits and plants, tasty things that he doesn't want to share at all, but when john cracks his cerulean eyes open, he is surprised to see a fluffy, cute thing like you.

and do you smell good, like the most ripe fruit, with your twitching tail and round, curious eyes looking at him carefully, you don't bolt away when you study the way john rises up, hefty body stretches up lazily, muscles covered by the layer of fat and some thick fur on his beefy legs and arms.

price moves carefully, he's enticed by you as much as you are, watching the big predator before you with nothing but pure interest, making tentative steps towards him, your scent growing more prominent, swallowing him, and there's a hoarse grunt in his chest, but instead of scaring you off, it makes you keen.

and god, john doesn't know what he did to receive such an adorable thing like you to himself, getting in his nest on your own, lacking the fear of him like someone who can easily snap you in half, but instead he scoops you towards him, dragging you by setting his broad palms at your round hips.

price arranges you onto the warm furs that lay on the ground easily, hands pawing at your body both carefully, but ain't afraid to squeeze with slight greed, and he doesn't take any more time before his hand skims below your navel, finding a warm, slick mess beneath your supple thighs and white fur.

you're just a silly thing, not even knowing that you shouldn't let some unfamiliar predator touch this way, but john rumbles about what a good care he'll take of you, the only thing he needs is your soppy pussy enveloping his fat and flushy cock, receiving every drop of his potent and thick cum.

and you don't want to deny yourself a possibility to rest in a warmer and more comfier nest, eating tasty fruits and plants without needing to collect them yourself, john would do it all for you, and in exchange, you just need to let him bury his fat cock in your gushy pussy, pumping load after load to coat your gummy cervix.

you're just his adorable, cum dump bunny, all squishy for him to sleep with more comfortably and keep his cock drained off cum that fills your puffy pussy almost every night, and it's not a surprise when you get pregnant in following months, all round with his offspring, and so so peaceful.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Never say never || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: thank u for the request I love it!! @ghostlythinggoingaround

Warnings: swearing, sofia is insecure abt herself. other than that, nothing really

Word count: 1,317

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

"Who are you looking at?" JJ asked, his curiosity piqued as he followed Sofia's intense gaze across the room. His eyes landed on Rafe, who stood by the pool table, exuding his usual air of arrogance. JJ let out a loud sigh and turned back to Sofia, concern etched on his face.

"Sof, you gotta stop," he said, frowning deeply. Sofia looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, her hands mechanically wiping the glasses clean behind the bar. "Stop with what?" she asked, her voice tinged with feigned ignorance.

"Thinking you have a chance with Rafe," JJ replied bluntly. Sofia's hands paused for a brief moment before she resumed her task, her shoulders tensing. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that—well, I did, but—" JJ stammered, his voice trailing off as he noticed the sadness clouding her eyes.

He sighed heavily, "Rafe doesn't do relationships, you know that, right? He'll string you along and then break your heart. Besides, he's a jackass." JJ scoffed, his eyes flicking back to Rafe, who was now laughing loudly with a group of friends.

"Who's a jackass?" a familiar voice chimed in from behind them. JJ and Sofia turned to find Sarah, John B, and Pope approaching the bar. Sarah settled into a bar stool beside JJ, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Your brother," JJ stated, his tone flat. Sarah snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He's worse, trust me," she said, her eyes shifting to Sofia with a knowing look. "Don't tell me you still like Rafe?" Sarah raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with incredulity.

Sofia swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sof—" Sarah began, but Sofia cut her off. "Don't. JJ's already said enough," she sighed, placing the last glass back on the rack before leaning against the counter, her posture defeated. "I just don't understand why he doesn't do relationships."

"Commitment issues, probably," Pope suggested, his eyes following the group's collective gaze towards Rafe, who was in conversation with Topper. "He's got way more issues—" John B started, but Sofia shushed him urgently.

"Stop, he's coming this way!" she whisper-yelled, quickly pretending to be busy as Rafe sauntered over. Rafe walked past them all without a second glance, his attention solely focused on the bartender at the far end of the counter. Sofia took a deep breath, mustering her courage as she approached him, ready to offer her service.

But just as she reached him, Rafe glanced her way, his expression indifferent, and turned to the other bartender to place his order. Sofia's heart sank, and she turned back to her friends, who were watching her with sympathetic eyes.

"See? He's an asshole, Sof. Don't waste your time on him," Sarah advised, her voice softening as she watched Sofia's sullen expression. "I guess," Sofia murmured, her gaze lingering on Rafe for a moment longer.

~

"What time do you get off? I was thinking we could have a fire tonight and have drinks at the chateau," John B suggested, leaning casually against the bar. "I'll be off at seven, and that sounds great," Sofia replied with a bright smile. The others chimed in with their agreement, the excitement of the plan evident in their voices.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sofia noticed you standing by the counter, catching her attention. "I'll be back," she said to her friends, making her way over to you with a welcoming smile. "Hey, can I get you something?" Sofia asked, her eyes meeting yours as you lifted your gaze from your phone, a friendly smile on your lips.

"Hi! Can I just get a Long Island Iced Tea, please?" you replied. "Sure, coming right up," she said, her smile widening as she turned to prepare the drink. As she mixed the ingredients, Sofia couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your natural beauty seemed effortless, and she felt a pang of envy. Your perfectly styled hair, flawless skin, and confident demeanor made her acutely aware of her own insecurities.

"That's a gorgeous necklace you got there," Sofia remarked, her eyes lingering on the shimmering pendant that caught the light with every movement. You smiled warmly, your fingers instinctively reaching up to toy with the delicate chain. Sofia's gaze remained fixed, silently estimating its worth and admiring its intricate design.

"Thanks, my boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday," you chuckled, a note of fondness in your voice. Sofia nodded with a smile, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of envy. She turned back to prepare your drink, but you called out, "Babe, did you want anything?"

Sofia's eyes widened in surprise as she turned and saw Rafe standing beside you, his arm protectively draped over your shoulder. "Whatever you're getting," he replied smoothly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You smiled at Sofia, who struggled to mask her shock and disbelief.

"Can I get another one, please?" you asked, your tone polite and cheerful. Sofia's eyes darted between you and Rafe, her heart sinking as she realized the truth: your boyfriend was Rafe, the guy who supposedly never did relationships. The realization hit her hard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

Rafe noticed the awkward silence and turned his attention to Sofia, who still held your drink. "Are you just gonna stand there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a hint of impatience.

Your eyes widened in embarrassment. "Don't be rude," you whispered to him, trying to diffuse the tension. Snapping out of her daze, Sofia mumbled, "Sorry," and placed your drink on the counter with a clatter, spilling some of its contents in her haste.

As she prepared the next drink, Sofia couldn't help but eavesdrop on your conversation with Rafe. "Do you wanna do anything this afternoon?" Rafe asked, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. "Got any ideas?" you chuckled, resting your hands on his arms, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

"Could take the boat out and have dinner?" he suggested, causing your smile to widen with excitement. "That sounds great—" you began, but were interrupted by a loud thud. "There's your drink," Sofia said, pushing the glass toward you with a bit more force than intended. You thanked her and reached for your card, but Rafe quickly swatted your hand away.

"Don't even," Rafe said playfully, making you sigh jokingly. "Rafe—" you started, but he cut you off, chuckling. "You know to just put it on my tab." Sofia's annoyance bubbled over, her fingers tapping rapidly on the counter in frustration. "Just put it on my tab, Cameron," Rafe repeated, not even glancing at her as he took both drinks.

“Thanks again,” you said with a polite smile to Sofia before walking off with Rafe. From behind the bar, Sofia watched with a mix of emotions as you settled onto Rafe’s lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. Laughter bubbled up between you, triggered by something one of your friends said, a scene that ignited jealousy and heartache in Sofia.

She exhaled shakily before returning to her friends, attempting to distract herself from the sight. Unbeknownst to Sofia, her friends had witnessed the entire scene. “Did you not know?” Sofia asked Sarah, wiping down the bar in an effort to focus her thoughts. Sarah hesitated before responding, her expression conflicted. “I did…” she trailed off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sofia’s voice quivered with confusion and hurt, her brows furrowing. “I didn’t know they were together!” Sarah’s voice was defensive yet apologetic. “I thought they were just hooking up, but I guess not…” She shrugged, a look of regret crossing her face.

“How long?” Sofia finally spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. Sarah hesitated, meeting Sofia’s gaze for a fleeting moment before answering, “About a month, now?” Sofia fell silent, her lips pressed tightly together as she struggled to maintain her composure. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them spill over.

“Shit. They’re even matching clothes and everything,” Pope muttered under his breath, the disbelief evident in his voice. His words were abruptly silenced by a firm slap from John B on his chest.

“Sofia…” JJ began, his tone soft and filled with concern. But Sofia, determined not to let her emotions show, dismissed him with a wave of her hand. A solitary tear had slipped down her cheek, betraying her true feelings, which she quickly wiped away.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They look good together anyway,” she added, casting a fleeting glance at you and Rafe. The sight of you both seemed to sting, but she tried to mask it.

Clearing her throat, Sofia straightened up, striving to maintain her composure. “I’m just gonna go back to work,” she said, her voice steadying as she turned away. With a final, determined breath, she walked off, leaving her friends behind, trying to hold herself together.

[dead-loch]

now you’ve done it

reblog this and put in the tags what you think an absolutely gold star album is. every song hits, every song links thematically, the order of the songs feels purposeful, and just all round it feels just. so well made

[lovifie]

141 Task Force Men and what piece of clothing they would steal.

(No smutty, just these fine gentlemen being little rats that steal your clothes)

Price💸

First of all, he would steal everything.

Especially if you lived together.

"What do you mean I can't grab your jacket to go buy some bread? Bla, bla, bla. I'll be back before you miss it."

"Oh, these are your socks? I was wondering when I had bought such bright colour ones."

"Why are you wearing my raincoat, John?" "Excuse me? Is mine!" "No, it's not!!"

In his mind, if he is planning to share his life with you, it simply makes sense for him to share everything else.

But there is something he is stealing over everything else, and those are booty shorts.

My man is overheating in this global warmed world, and he is looking on his closest for some shorts when he stumbles upon your booty shorts.

They are ridiculously short, basically legalized underwear he can wear outside; but this is the coolest he has felt since summer started, so he isn't stopping.

After all, who is going to tell the military captain what to wear?

Plus, when you wake up in the morning you are greeted by him in the kitchen making coffee and booty shorts with "juicy" written on them.

Extra: The two of you have an extensive collection of hats, that he technically doesn't steal from because it's shared.

Extra x2: He owns the "Woman want me, Fish fear me."

Ghost 💀

Your sweaters

It all started the first night he went to your house.

He was wearing a leather jacket, and although he looked illegally hot; it was obvious it was not the comfiest jacket to be chilling ii.

So you offered him your fave sweater, a massive one that could almost work as a blanket.

At first, he rejects your offer, afraid that it will be itchy and he will offend you; but his complaints get shut when you ask him to please feel it.

Instantly tries it own, the massive sweater looking loose on his as well. The image of the behemoth of a man, all black, balaclava (no mask) still on... And the fluffiest sweater on melting your heart.

The next time he visited your house he didn't even wait for you to open the door before taking his jacket off: "....can I put on your sweater?"

They are kind of his guilty pleasure, he would never admit how much he likes them and even less to other person but you.

But you only need to see how he buries himself on the sweater when he sits down on the sofa.

If he was amazing to cuddle with before, now it's even better.

Extra: I also like to think of him having a random ear piercing, and whenever he wears just the surgical mask or no mask in general; he would steal one of your dangling earrings to wear. Playing with it throughout the whole night out.

Soap 🧼

Baby tees

Every single one of them.

He keeps saying they make their muscles look amazing (they do)

He likes the ones with drawings or photos, but his favourites are the ones with texts.

Cue to him wearing tight ass shirts saying such as: "Small tits, big heart", "I got my clit pierced at Claire's" or "Don't bully me, I'll cum :("

You don't even remember why you bought them, mostly they are gifts from Secret Santa but you are so, so glad they found their way to your closet.

He wears them proudly, not even realising the stares.

When you go online shopping he's always cuddling on your side, leaving one of your arms useless with the way he cuddles it.

If he sees a tee he likes he just makes you stop scrolling and add it to the basket like: "It'll look good in you too."

There is also a small collection of them, the ones you genuinely like that don't let him wear. Not after he put one on, started flexing his arms and back and ripped it.

Just staring at you with guilt on his eyes and his tits out.

Gaz ⛽

Your shirts.

The ugliest, most colourful, eye-sore, extravagant shirt that you might own? He's taking them.

You are cleaning your closet one day and you pull out an offense to your eyes, mumbling about what where you thinking when you bought it and Gaz sees it and is like: °o°

He's taking it.

Getting ready for a costume party, you decide to dress up as Master Roshi from Dragon Ball (fake beard and everything) but you are missing the ugly shirt.

You remember seeing it not too long ago in your closet but you can't find it. So you ask your boyfriend.

And you find him wearing it, spraying cologne on telling you that he is also going out with his mates and asking how do you look.

Little shit does pull it off, so you don't lie when you tell him he looks fantastic.

You still have plenty of ugly shirts for your costume.

Extra: He would steal all your jewerly, rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it. Just little bits all over his outfit; "It signs the deal, babe." They do.

Extra x2: He is always waiting for somebody to compliment any of your things he is wearing to have an excuse to talk about you, Soap is tired of hearing him mumble about you whenever he drinks.

[fashionsfromhistory]

Dress

1893

Conventional in style for its time, with a close fitting boned bodice, defined yoke, tight sleeves with epaulettes and full puffed top sections, this two piece dress nevertheless shows the influence of artistic dress on the materials from which it has been made. Originating from the attempts to reform ugly aspects of women’s clothing, artistic dress favoured muted colours and softly textured fabrics, and by the 1890s some of these preferences had found their way into more mainstream fashion worn by middle class women with cultural interests. The fine silk twill of the dress’s body, the velvet and soft wool of its sleeves, collar and hem, and the ‘antique’ lace of its yoke were all favoured components of artistic dress, as were its simple grey shell buttons that celebrated the unpretentious beauty of natural materials. Sludgy shades of green such as olive and sage were a reaction against the brashness of synthetic dyes, and both greens have been used in the silk’s printed design of ‘faded’ pink and yellow honeysuckle with light sage foliage on a dark olive ground. This design, albeit on a different scale, evokes some of the textiles and wallpapers produced by the firm of Morris & Co, set up by William Morris to provide items of interior design that accorded with his artistic and socialist principles. One such example is the block printed cotton ‘Honeysuckle’ of 1876, depicting pale flowers and foliage on a dark ground.

John Bright Collection

[syoddeye]

consequence

price x f!reader | 1069 words nice tags: loser x loser, john price having a sliver of game, but it works a/n: continuation of this shortie. played myself here. 💀

“orange?”

“green.”

“what?”

“sorry, are we not naming colors?”

he's simultaneously wounded and amused that she doesn’t even look up to lash him with her tongue. suppose his attempts are ten a penny—she gets chatted up every day; he’s seen it firsthand.

ever since he tracked her to the shop a little over three weeks ago, he’s become a regular. he goes out of his way to visit and watch her handle interested parties like a professional. from the vantage of his usual table, he pretends to read or scroll on his phone, listening in on how she rebuffs them. his own politeness is rewarded with a gradual drop in her guard.

see, from his observations, he’s deduced what other prospects lack: persistence. something he has in spades.

he moves down the counter with her. it’s always slower in the afternoon, affording the time to talk. her good-for-nothing coworker is on another break.

“your cast.” he gestures. “brand new?”

she fumbles the tamper and bites out a quick, “yep.” 

“no signatures.” her last one—bright blue—was nearly black with names and drawings just yesterday.

“got it this morning before i clocked in.”

“your boss still made you come in after that?”

“yeah, well, some of us have to work—shit.” she drops the tamper and portafilter, both thunking onto the rubber mat at her feet. grounds litter the counter and floor, and her eyelids twitch.

accident prone. unlucky. perhaps both.

john considers jumping the bar. a glance at the staff door says her coworker isn’t rushing to help, but he can’t push the line he’s drawn. in pencil. with a light hand.

after all, it wasn’t too long ago that she was jilted in love. she might as well wear a handle with care label.

she swears, fetches a hand broom and pan, then ducks.

“can i—?” he starts.

“absolutely not.” she snips, alternating tools in her good hand, piling the spilled grounds.

john lets a brief silence stretch, listening to the broom swish and other customers typing on laptops. he leans far enough to cast a shadow over her, and his mind wanders off.

“i didn’t mean to snap. or insinuate you’re, uh, underemployed.”

his focus splinters, his daydreams burst. god help a lech like him. sees a pretty girl on her knees and he’s fifteen years younger. christ. he distracts himself with the mess on the counter.

“takes more than a smart remark to hurt me.”

“yeah? well, watch out for scooters. that’s all it took to hurt me.” she smirks with eyes downcast, sweeping the pile into the pan.

if you’d just popped to the door, love. fessed up. i’d’ve taken care of you.

“mm, you’re resilient though. you got back up.”

she stands, shrugging. “like i said. had to. girl’s gotta eat. bills don’t pay themselves.”

“truer words.” john offers his share of collected grounds and a smile.

she murmurs thanks as she disposes of the coffee and moves to restart his drink until he raises a hand.

“give it a rest.”

“you paid for it.” she squints, disbelieving he’s passing on his coffee. her lips press together, and the small scar from the crash punctuates her uncertainty.

“i want somethin’ else.” his true intentions must bleed through his eyes because the corners of her mouth then pull down. he swiftly adds, “let me sign it.”

she nearly drops everything a second time. “you want to sign it. my cast?” 

“do you have somethin’ else i could sign?” 

her nostrils flare when she’s surprised. embarrassed? it’s cute. he wants to see it again.

“fine. here.” she dumps the pan, sets it aside, and hands him the marker she keeps clipped to her apron.  

he’s careful when he leans closer, concentrating, ignoring the ding of the bell above the cafe’s door. the warmth of her skin seeps through where he holds her arm steady. his chin dips, relishing the strong scent of espresso and how nice and still she’s standing. it’s impulsive, deciding to smudge the line he’d drawn.

she only notices as he writes the last digit next to ‘john’.

“are you—is that your phone number?” 

the bell rings again, and a cluster of voices follow.

“it is.” john confirms with a satisfied grin, glancing at his uniform scrawl. he caps her pen and slides it into the top pocket of her apron. time’s run out with the arrival of the mid-afternoon rush. clockwork. “good chat.” he winks, savors the finer details of her sweet, bewildered expression, and weaves around the small crowd of office workers in for a pick-me-up.

he’s pure confidence on the trip home, imagining what she’ll say when she calls or texts. how he’ll surprise her with his car on the first date. what? why’re you staring like that? how does it look familiar? he cracks himself up, thinking of how he’ll pry a confession out of her, then lean into it. what a coincidence. must be fate, visiting your shop.

his phone remains on the table as he goes about the rest of the day, half-heartedly doing what needs to be done while home. she works until seventeen-hundred, so he doesn’t expect immediacy. it doesn’t stop him from finding excuses to hover nearby or snatching up the device when it pings ten minutes after closing.

>> if this is a plot to get free drinks, i only get one a shift and it’s for me

> It’s a ploy to buy you a drink, if you’d like.

three dots appear and disappear rapidly.

>> i’m not drinking right now >> considering how i got the cast

> then what are your plans for tomorrow?

persistence.

>> supermarket

> Wonderful. Send your address. I’ll pick you up.

>> oh you’re one of those guys >> self invitation type >> you don’t need to come???

> Are you going to carry them yourself?

another round of dots. 

>> good point >> fine, be my muscle

> Gladly. 

she sends her address, which he promptly inputs into a search engine. decent area, expensive rent. clicks his tongue as he clicks through the photos from an old listing. hopefully, the pathetic-looking deadbolt’s been updated.

he suggests a time.

>> works for me

> Good. See you tomorrow. 

>> yeah yeah, night john x

his eyes hitch to the ‘x’, and his chest tightens. he exits the rental site and glances around his flat. yeah, she’ll fit in quite nicely.

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 28

Danny is ghost king and he is not vibing with it. In this whenever he transforms the crown is visible to everyone. When he is human he’s the only one who can see it. The glowing green annoys him.

It doesn’t help all his rouges give him a hard time and would rather laugh at him then help. So Danny does his own research. He is not good at it.

He does stumble across a certain soul seller. Maybe he just overheard the name maybe from someone who got a sliver of the soul.

Danny hasn’t been able to sleep from the bright green glow from the crown and is quite desperate. The most logical solution is obviously collecting all the soul parts and making this John guy help him. Dude must know a thing or to about the occult.

John was in the middle of a forced justice league meeting when a green portal from the afterlife opened up and the new king appeared in front of him. The new king was a literal child.

Danny just goes i own your soul now. Want it back tell me how to turn the crown off. He grabs the crown chucks it just for it to appear over his head again. Danny is oblivious to the table of superhero’s hearing him complaining about the lack of sleep he’s gotten.

[frostedmagnolias]

Cape

Late 1890s

The John Bright Collection

[artschoolglasses]

Embroidered silk waistcoat, 1780s

From the John Bright Collection

[history-of-fashion]

1908-1909 Dress

satin trimmed with velvet, lace, tulle and gauze, embroidered with metallic cord and thread, floss silk, beads, sequins and diamante

(John Bright Collection)

[the1920sinpictures]

1921 c. Summer day/afternoon dress of silk organza embroidered with cotton. Unlined, requiring a petticoat or underdress to be worn beneath. From the John Bright Collection.