#sewing old money style

[anielskaaniela]

How to Achieve the Old Money Fashion Style with These Simple Tips

 This post shows you how to dress in the old money fashion style . Old money fashion style is a term that refers to the clothing and accessories of the upper class who have inherited their wealth and status from their ancestors. Old money fashion style is not about following the latest trends or flaunting expensive brands. It is about dressing with elegance, sophistication, and understatement.…

[jacks-weird-world]

Because there is nothing more old money than Ralph lauren. 💸

📸Source: @menswearmontage

[rosenclaws]

Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

halloween masterlist || join my discord!

a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting. 

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.” 

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag.  You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos. 

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench. 

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be. 

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need. 

[dmfromtheblacklagoon]

It seems people really enjoyed the last headcannon post, so I have returned, this time with headcannons for the non-romanceable characters!

I love all of the characters in this game, and have created so many little dumb ideas for them, so here ya go!

We have confirmation that Linus came from a wealthy family, but put this life aside, donating his money to various charities and organizations to help others, and I like to imagine that he still enjoys working with these charities from time to time, whether this be shelter work, environmental care, or supporting other people!

Willy never had children, but took in Elliot as his own, teaching him everything he would need to know regarding the seas, and quickly takes in Farmer as well, after learning about their love for fishing.

Gus is a trans guy! I don't have any evidence for this, but I just adore Gus so much and need this in my life.

Gunther is a long-time DM, and runs a small group with some of the local teens, and maybe some of the adults! I feel like his fascination of antiques and old treasures has assisted his DMing skills, or possibly the other way around!

Kent has learned how to sew, knit, and garden in order to get closer with Jodi and the kids once he returned to Pelican Town. (He's trying to be a better dad, he already is such a good guy :])

Mr. Qi is quite close with both Sandy and Gus, considering them friends!

Pierre was a college dropout, yet still considers himself a "man of study", I'm sorry, I just can't see this man as anything but an arrogant asshole.

The Wizard is incredibly supportive of the queer folks in the town, and Farmer, and will offer help with anything. Gender change? He's got you. Voice manipulation? He's got the stuff. Just be careful if he invites you to share a pipe!

Marlon and the Wizard are the local salty gay couple, Statler and Waldorf style, and lurk in the back during the flower dance, taking the last dance for themselves.

Pam loves thrifting and going on antiquing sprees with Harvey, and she knows how to absolutely steal a deal, girlie would most definitely punch an old woman over an auction item.

This is all I have atm, but if you want more, please let me know!! I love making stupid little theories for the glorbos. :]

[drabblejester]

SAMPO KOSKI RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS!!!

requested by: nobody. i made this :3

pairing: sampo koski x gn!reader

content warnings: no important warnigs!!! stupid men doing stupid things

comments: ily blue kronk. hes like if johnny bravo was finnish and stupid (lovingly)

oh he’s a NERD nerd. constantly in your hair rambling about something or other, TOTAL yapper. becomes 10x more talkative when you’re in the same room as him!!

constantly trying to impress you with everything he does. he’d do a backflip for you and ask if you liked it (if you didn’t respond fast enough he’ll do another one). he’s like those birds of paradise that do a little dance to court other birds

he wouldn’t flex his money on you but you know what he would flex? his MUSCLES!! always trying to pick you up and hold you, toss you around, carry you places, etc. he just wants you to know that he can protect you and also just help you out :3

he would call you the DUMBEST pet names ever. babygirl style. he’d call you his cheeseburger, his slush, his googoobaby, etc. either stuff that doesn’t make sense or super cheesy/old timey ones. puddinpop, honeybaby, etc.

although he does have an ominous more serious side, he’d try to hide it a bit. he’s a bit nervous about intimidating you (i mean he does have two knives and has killed people before so very obvious reason), so he tries to act all silly and passive to make sure you don’t get scared

he wouldn’t get TOO possessive i think (i know.. i apologize…) but y’know, he’d step in if someone talks to you for a WHILE.

tries to share your interests!! if you like sewing, he’d try to sew you a little plushie of himself. you like crochet? he’s making ten blankets right now. drawing? he’s trying his best! writing stuff on tumblr for a bunch of people who think that stupid blue men are hot? don’t break the fourth wall please

SO MANY DAD JOKES. whether you have a kid(or kids) or not it doesn’t matter, he’s cracking jokes like they’re gonna be uncrackable tomorrow. did i ever tell you about the story about that elevator? it sure has its ups and downs!

constantly CONSTANTLY snuggling up to you like a little cat. like, actually crawling into your lap and everything. curls up into a little sampo-shaped ball and falls asleep. always at the worst times and places though. you will never know rest from his tormenting

might bring you to the tavern a few times! buys you a drink, giggles around with you, introduces you to the other fools. he tries to give you a little smooch with his mask on but it just donks against your teeth. you both laugh about it though (as aha intended)

enjoy the food my lieges <3

[orphan-account123653]

𝕴﹕𝕾𝖎 𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖒, 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖒

if you want peace, prepare for war.

cw: fem! reader, fyodor's probably ooc, reader goes to church, religious themes (it’s just Jesus tho)

word count: 2.0k

a/n: can you tell i got grammarly premium? please tell me you can tell that I got grammarly premium.

Staring into the oval mirror, you see your face streaked with dried tears. (The makeup the servants had applied hadn't done the best job of covering them) Your hair is styled into a bun, and your wedding dress is hanging on a rack in the corner of the large room. It's off the shoulder and dyed a pure white with gold and ruby accents. You stare at the dress from the corner of your eye, glaring at it contemptuously. 

You didn't want to marry him.

You didn't even know him.

You cover your face with your hands and start to sob once again, the carefully applied makeup becoming ruined further by your crying. You uncover your face but continue to hold your head in your hands. Your mind is running with so many thoughts. However, the one that weighed the most on your conscience was how you got into this mess.

The first time you saw him, you were going to buy sewing supplies from the tailor to teach your younger sister how to sew so she could fix her old teddy bear by herself. The manager had brought you the tools, and you grabbed the needed money out of your pocket. You placed the coins on the counter as the owner started to count the amount.

"Uh, miss? This amount of money isn't enough." The tailor had told you.

"Oh? I really thought it was, and that's all I have…"

You were about to take the money back and apologize when a man with black hair placed more than enough coins on the counter for you.

"I'll pay for her." The man said.

"Huh? No, there's no need to pay for me!"

You pause your sentence when you finally recognize who it is.

"Mr. Dostoyevsky?? What are you—"

"Don't mind me. I'm just here to pick up my new suit," Fyodor said, nodding to a fancy black suit in the back of the store. He turned back to the tailor. "It should be enough for my suit and this lady's items. Now go get our things, please."

The worker nodded and ran into the back of the store to grab his newly tailored suit. When he returned, he handed the respective items to both of you and accepted the money.

"Thanks for buying the sewing tools for me." You thanked Fyodor before he could walk off.

He nodded in acknowledgment of your thanks before walking away. 

The second time you saw him was Sunday, and you were walking to church alone. You weren't particularly religious, if at all. But it couldn't hurt to at least try to pray for your little sisters' health, could it? Isabella was getting increasingly sick, and neither you nor your mother knew what was wrong. You were too poor to afford a doctor, so all you could do was sit and wait. 

As you walked towards the church alone on that quiet Sunday, your footsteps echoed against the sidewalk as you noticed a figure leaning against the fence bordering the front of the church.

His silhouette cast a shadow that had seemed to sway with the soft wind. As you walked closer, you finally recognized him.

Him again? Seriously?

He looked up as you approached, his violet eyes softening ever so slightly as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The quiet moment between you was interrupted by the loud ringing of church bells, marking the start of another Sunday service. You hesitated, unsure whether to acknowledge him or walk inside the building without speaking to him.

"Hello," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that did nothing to ease the uncertainty in your heart.

The last time you ran into him, you had just bought three loaves of bread and were walking back home when you bumped into Fyodor again. You had tumbled to the ground along with your bread. 

It was getting quite odd at how many times you two had met, almost like it was on purpose. 

Your eyes widened as you blabbered words that sounded like they were trying to be an apology, but it wasn't working well. 

Fyodor let out a small chuckle as he bent down slightly, lending his hand toward you to help you. You froze momentarily before graciously taking his hand as he pulled you up.

"We must stop meeting like this."

"Indeed," you replied nervously, the loaves of bread scattered around you. You looked around at the mess, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Would you like me to buy you some new bread? I don't think you would find eating dirty bread delightful."

"Oh– It's alright, I'm sure I'll manage." You reassured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." You bent down to pick up the loaves of bread. You could just wash the dirt off, probably.

You immediately fled the scene after picking up your food. You quickly opened your house door and found your younger sister lying in bed. You genuinely wished you could get a doctor for her. But you can barely afford bread.

You bent down next to the bed, gently shaking your sister awake. After a while of shaking, her eyes finally opened.

"You're back?" She asked.

"Buying bread doesn't take much time."

"It feels like it does." She retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I know," you sigh. Your little sister can be pretty impatient sometimes. "Where's mother?"

"I don't know. I was asleep when she left." 

You shrugged before returning to place the bread basket on the table.

"She'll come back soon, I know it." Your sister said.

Your conversation is interrupted by a loud knock at your door. You stand back up and head to open the door. Standing there is a mailman.

"I have a letter for [Name] [Last Name]. Is she here?"

"You're speaking to her."

"Oh, well then, here you are." The postman hands you a letter and walks off. 

You close the door and stare at the envelope. In the middle is the crest of the Dostoyevsky family.

You walk back towards your sister, who is sitting in bed. You sit at the foot of her bed.

"What does the letter say?" She asks curiously.

"I'm not sure. I haven't read it yet." You respond to her.

"Well, then read it!"

You ripped open the envelope and started to read the letter.

Dear Ms. [Last Name],

With the quill in my hand and the ink flowing from the depths of my heart, I must express how you have attracted me with your beauty despite your poverty. You have truly captivated me.

I was enchanted by the aura radiating from your soul when we met in the tailors' shop. 

Though fate has seen fit to place us on entirely separate paths—you, a child of the fields, and I, a child of noble birth—I am compelled to defy the standards society has set for us. Even though I had only met you three times before writing this letter, you are the one with whom I wish to share my life's journey.

Therefore, if you allow me, permit me to pledge myself to you in the blessed bond of marriage. Together, we shall travel the trials of life, hand in hand, as equals in love's timeless embrace.

My dear, I beg you to consider this proposal with an open heart and a willing spirit. For in your acceptance lies the promise of a future bright with the shine of my utter devotion to you.

With all the sincerity my soul can allow,

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"Wow, a rich person wants to marry you?" Isabella clasped her hands together as she fixed her posture, becoming more interested by the second.

"This must be a joke– but if it has the official Dostoyevsky family crest, then it should be real."

"Will you accept?" Your sister asks.

"It'd be in my best interest, but I'll ask my mother and see what she thinks." You said as you stood up, "But until I can speak with her, you should go back to sleep. It's way too past your bedtime anyway." 

"Aw man, but I wanna stay up with you!" Isabella complains.

"Fine, but don't come complaining to me when you're all crabby in the morning."

"Fineee…"

"Thank you, Isabella." You thank her and sit up from her bed.

"Mhm."

After tucking Isabella into bed, you walked to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. While you were making it, your mother walked into the house.

"How was your visit to uncle's?" You asked her. She was always at his house. Your uncle had always been better off than your mother. So she always hung around his home, probably because it made her feel richer.

"It was fine. Is Isabella doing any better?" She eyed the dusty bread on the table as you poured the tea.

"She's doing just as fine as yesterday."

"Ah, well, I'll be heading straight for bed. I've had a long day." Your mother yawned and stretched her arms,

"Wait! There's something I need to ask you."

"Yes?" Your mother asked, "What is it?"

"Read this letter I've received. I need your opinion."

You hand your mother the letter you have gotten. She scanned it, and when she finished, she set it down and sighed.

"You're going to marry him. It's the best choice." She said bluntly.

"But– I don't love him. I've only met him three times?"

"I doubt he cares much if you love him. Besides, think about Isabella. You can get her a proper doctor if you marry him. The Dostoyevsky family has lots of money, you know." Your mother explained.

“Yeah… I know…”

"So you'll marry him?" She asked.

"Yes, mother." You looked at the ground solemnly as you confirmed her question

"That's good. I'll get you paper and a quill. I want your response by tomorrow morning."

"Alright."

You're brought back to the present when one of the servants knocks on your door. "Ms. [Last Name], are you ready for the wedding?"

Oh shit, while you were busy having flashbacks and a mini-mental breakdown, you had completely forgotten about the thing that had caused you such stress!

"Uhm– I'll be out in a minute!"

You hurriedly put on the dress and fixed your makeup to the best of your (limited) ability. Then you opened the door and stepped out.

"You look beautiful. Are you ready?"

"I guess…"

You put on the heels and walk out of the room. You try to distract yourself by looking at the glass windows as you walk down the long hall toward what you consider to be an execution. The stained glass depicts different imagery on each piece.

Jesus, with his lamb,

Jesus, with his sacred heart, 

Jesus, on the cross,

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern.

You open the wooden doors at the end of the hall and walk towards the carriage outside. Once inside, the carriage begins its way to the church.

Your mother is waiting in front of the doors leading into the venue. She's holding your veil and a little piece of paper containing the vows you wrote down at the last minute.

"Remember to smile and be polite," your mother says as she fits the veil onto your head.

"I will."

In the grand venue of the church, the air was thick with anticipation as guests dressed in their finest clothing gathered to watch firsthand the marriage between two mismatched souls. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the eldest son of the respected Dostoyevsky family, stands at the altar, waiting for you to come down the aisle.  

The grand piano filled the luxurious room as the ceremony started, drowning out the guests' gossip. The marriage between you and Fyodor was initially unknown; most guests only knew you were getting married once the invite was sent to them. Everyone knew how proud Fyodor was of his heritage, so why would he marry someone lower class? 

As the vows were exchanged by the two of you, the weight of your future settled upon you like a suffocating cloud. Fyodor could feel your hands trembling as he slid the ring onto your finger. 

His voice was barely above a whisper as he pledged his forever undying loyalty to you. 

However, for you, this marriage was only an opportunity to secure a place amongst the elite despite your origins.

[beegalactica]

HOT GIRLS ARE CONSCIOUS.

I haven't been on Tumblr in about 3 months (life has been busy), and when I finally decided to check back in today, I kept seeing the same thing over and over again, so I am here to dispel some myths.

If you have seen any of my posts, you will know the issues I have with traditional TikTok-y trendy 'glow-up' advice, but today I realised how much of it is just a ploy to get us to spend tons of money on things we CAN live without. I think we all need to be more CONSCIOUS: conscious of what we can realistically afford and implement into our daily lives.

For example, in a typical 'glow-up' advice post, tiktok or youtube video, they recommend these super unrealistic routines that include a full skincare routine of every type of cream you could ever imagine, and an incredibly detailed list that lays out how you need to spend every 10 minutes of your day in order to achieve this perfect form.

It's all hear-say.

Don't get roped into thinking that you need those brand new clothes, or you need those skincare items to be your best self. The idea of turning your 'glow-up' into a sustainable part of your life is to do things you can manage to do over and over again. The secret to glowing up permanently is having a routine that keeps you happy and healthy. Instead of buying a full shelf of skincare all in one go, get 1 or 2 items with positive reviews to start. You don't need to throw out your whole wardrobe and sell your soul to TEMU just to look aesthetic; use what you have. Rather than making short term impulsive purchases, treat every part of your life as an investment.

Especially when it comes to clothing, being someone who has lost weight and no longer fits into all their old clothes, instead of throwing everything out and starting from scratch, I bought a little amazon sewing kit with a couple of needles and different types of thread and started cutting and sewing my way to a better wardrobe. (Even TODAY, I turned an old pair of jeans that I never wear into a cute miniskirt all from a 5 minute YouTube tutorial.) If sewing isn't your thing, you can try using some hemming tape and an iron, fabric glue, or whatever you can. Be conscious of the things you buy and how often you buy them.

I know lots of people like thrifting, and you can thrift online with apps like Vinted, which I personally use and love, if you don't have access to massive thrift stores like they do in America (I'm totally not jealous at all 🙄🙄; I live in the UK and the closest things I have near me are charity shops but there's a sort of stigma around shopping in them but honestly who cares what others think).

When you shop for clothes, look for timeless and versatile pieces you can mix and match, layer and style with lots of different things, allowing you to wear them well. Try to find good staple pieces, that will make the basis of your wardrobe. Be an outfit repeater. Do not blindly follow trends; take the time to curate and explore to find your style. Make a massive Pinterest board of everything you think looks good, and start to make a list of common items of clothing and accessories you save the most; these will be your staples. Don't feel like you have to stick strictly to one aesthetic; my wardrobe ranges from 'fairycore' maxi skirts to y2k denim skirts, but what matters is that I am mindful of whether I will use the things I want to buy.

Of course, feel free to treat yourself, you 100% deserve it, but don't get sucked into the idea that your self worth is determined but WHAT you have; instead it should be how you FEEL in what you have.

I like to see my blog as a little notebook of things I wish I could have told my younger self, and things I want to remind my future self, and I feel like it would be a disservice to not talk about the oversaturation of our feeds with infinite products, to the point where everything feels like an AD.

Moral of the story: don't just take everything you see online at face value. Don't get trapped in extensive consumerism; it's bad for your bank account, it's bad for the environment and it's bad for your mental health.

Also here's my Pinterest if you want to have a peek around <3 Pinterest

[larz-barz]

Updated Mikitama info post

her new design!:D

Family (biological)

Mother: Unnamed (dead)

Father: Unnamed (dead)

Aunt: Unnamed (dead)

Aunt: Aika Shineeza (alive) (father’s and Haruki’s sister) @uponthefantasy

Uncle: Haruki Suzuki (alive) (husband of unnamed aunt and father’s brother)

Brother: Michio Suzuki (alive)

Great great etc. grandmother: Hana Tsugikuni (demon) (married to Kokushibo)

Great great etc. grandmother: Kana Suzumi (Hana’s and Kokushibo’s daughter)

Great great etc. grandfather: Kokushibo

Family (adoptive)

Mother: Yuna Handa (alive) (dies in an au) @kimetsu-chan

Father: Giyuu Tomioka (alive)

Cousin: Shiina Suzuki (alive) (dies in an au) @nothingtoseehere1-2-3

Bother: Zeno Arakawa (alive) (not actually adoptive, they act like siblings tho) @kimetsu-chan

Uncle: Tengen Uzui

Aunt: Hinatsuru Uzui

Aunt: Makio Uzui

Aunt: Suma Uzui

Sister: Ames @donkeybro

Sister: Hikari Sano @ta-ni-ya

Brother: Hikaru Sano @ta-ni-ya

Father: Hiroto Ichiga @night-mince0

Brother: Jun’ichi Ubuyashiki @blueberrypie20

Backstory

tw: abuse, murder, attempted murder

Mikitama and Michio were raised by Haruki since he killed their parents after Mikitama was born.

One day, when Mikitama was 3 and Michio was 6, their aunt Aika tried to take both of them in, but Haruki only let Aika take Michio.

Before leaving, Michio gave Mikitama her purple bow that she’s always wearing.

Haruki is very abusive towards Mikitama, and only Mikitama.

This is because of Mikitama being a yokai.

When Mikitama was about 6 years old Haruki attempted to drown Mikitama which led to her fear of water.

Shiina was adopted by Haruki when Mikitama was 9 years old and Shiina did everything she could to keep Mikitama safe.

Also, Mikitama was forced to live in poverty despite her uncle being rich since he wouldn’t spend any of his money on her.

One day, when Mikitama was 10 she was digging around in a closet and found various scrolls and letters from her father, who was the starlight hashira when he was alive.

She used those to teach herself the starlight breathing style and how to do total concentration breathing constantly.

She did the final selection with her future adoptive mother, Muichiro, and Aoi at 11 years old then became the starlight hashira at 12 years old.

Personality

Mikitama is a very kind and selfless girl.

She’s very shy and sweet.

She’ll do anything to protect the people around her no matter the consequences.

She’s very introverted and submissive.

If someone is being rude to her she’s not going to do anything about it.

She’s always willing to help anyone.

Random facts

Her favorite food is chicken udon.

The first time she met someone who didn’t mistreat her she was stunned to tears.

In Kimetsu academy her best subject is chemistry.

She doesn’t think she deserves to be treated with kindness.

She’s deathly allergic to garlic.

She made her arm warmers and painted her sword sheathe herself!

She loves cooking and sewing.

She often has really bad nightmares.

(TW: S/A) Her uncle has s/aed her before.

When she and Michio reunited they both cried together for an hour and they hugged the whole time.

Mikitama’s birthday is February 3rd and she’s 14! (14 in the show and 15 irl-)

She doesn’t like peppermint.

She’s also deathly allergic to onions.

She has 3 powers: Turning into a cat, shrinking, and healing.

In her small form she is about 2’2.

She wraps her tail around her leg when nervous or scared.

She’s very good at drawing.

She’s 4’8

She’s extremely light for her age, only weighing 94 pounds!

Tagging: @kimetsu-chan @demonslayerdoodles

[19burstraat]

when existence or when hope is gone : soc jane austen / regency au

"And have you made this entire call without once vexing or offending poor Miss Ghafa?” Captain Rietveld looked coolly at him. Inej bent her head over her sewing to hide her smiling, since she was not sure she would not laugh outright. She had not thought that Wylan would deliberately provoke the Captain, but perhaps his deference to his father did not reach anyone else. “I am sure that is not for me to decide,” said the Captain, “But I own I have been perfectly well behaved.” “Does he lie, Miss Ghafa?” “No— he has been quite tolerable company,” said Inej. “If not quite a perfect gentleman.” “You wound me, Miss Ghafa.” “I suspect I do not, Captain.”

contextual and explanatory notes about regency literary and social conventions are below the cut if you have questions during/after reading! plus some trivia for fun :)

The redacting of certain place names (—shire, — Street) is accurate to lots of old novels, where you will see it from time to time. I think it was a deliberate omission to avoid libel accusations if they accidentally invoked somewhere or someone real, or to also avoid confusing people if it contradicted real life. I used it here both to mimic the style, and also because that way didn't have to pick streets or regions lol.

The 'cut direct' was a social nuke and Kaz has balls of steel for using it on an older man who is his social superior 💀 if you very deliberately stared at and then blanked a previous acquaintance who had greeted you, it severed a relationship or acquaintance forever and could also make people turn on the person being cut. Pekka could have challenged him to a duel for it, but sensibly I think he saw the lapse in logic in giving a pistol to a soldier who holds you responsible for his brother's death and letting him shoot at you

A reticule is one of those dumb tiny handbags that regency ladies had

Governesses were in a uniquely vulnerable position. Not genteel enough for the family while not technically a servant, they tended to be isolated. While they were ofc not comparable to what Inej canonically goes through, many were abused by the families they worked for, rivalled the mothers for their children's affection, and some were harassed and abused by husbands or male visitors. There's a reason Jane Fairfax does not want to be one in Emma.

The navy lists are a publication that, unsurprisingly, list all the men, their ranks, and their ships currently trundling around on campaign. Kaz checks them to see who is still alive and to backseat drive campaigns (what's new!) and Wylan waits on tenterhooks for him to find Jesper. Which he always does because he was already looking for him.

Married couples did not tend to call one another by their given names, at least not in company; Nina and Matthias do it because they have a fond disrespect for one another. Or Nina does anyway and it's rubbed off on Matthias.

Although Kaz and Inej are comparatively very young, twenty six is pushing it for the 'marriageability' of young women; Anne Elliot was twenty seven and was considered to have lost the 'bloom' of her youth, so she is being bourne down upon a bit.

The money concerns in Persuasion— landed gentry losing money and soldiers becoming 'new' money in the war via prize money, but still being looked down upon by the old nobility— are kinda reflected through Kaz and Jesper.

(to be so honest I do not quite understand how the regency economy worked but I figured that like, no one else reading this does either, unless ur a regency specialist. if you are, sorry. how's academia?)

I think we're actually not quite yet at the peak of the 'scandal sheet' Bridgerton-Lady-Whistledown craze, but I couldn't possibly deprive Kaz and Inej of their fishmarket wife gossip habit in any universe.

I also hate Lord Byron. Next!

Nina, Matthias, and Inej are not at the Wesper wedding because regency weddings were super tiny affairs that only had v close / local family and friends at them

I think the circumstances of Kaz and Jordie having been minor landed gentry having to join the navy out of necessity may be a bit of a stretch but... Well I had to think of something to replicate Kaz's backstory with. The easier solution would have been for them to marry rich but I can see Jordie thinking that trying to marry Kaz 'Cut Direct' Rietveld off to a Duchess might be a bit tough

A trousseau was the collection of clothes that women bought before they were married; it was an expected thing, to send brides off with new clothes. Nina and Mrs Ghafa (and Jesper) are a lot more interested in this than poor Inej is lol.

The made up house names are entirely inside jokes with myself. Geldings references horses but is actually a play on the Geldstraat, Crawley means 'clearing frequented by crows', Stavewell is a play on the Stave where Tante Heleen and the Menagerie are, and I think Trasselwood is fairly obvious lol.

[dognonsense]

so im brand new to the punk scene and way of doing things and i really dont know where to start. I want to decorate my jacket with patches and pins and stuff but i dont really know how to do that. Do you have any tips?

epic! for patches first step is to source the materials you need for it!

youll want to get fabric thats thick and not too stretchy. Denim is the strongest fabric for patches. But ive never made one from that. I would cut up old clothes i didnt wear or take clothing that was going to landfill for fabric.

Now i go to a fabric store that takes all the excess from the main stores and sell its for cheap which is great for saving money.

for making patches for individual use its easy to make a simple stencil with cardstock or thin cardboard, think cereal box, draw on ur design. then use a pen knife to cut of ur stencil, then put it over fabric, then ull want to be using a sponge to apply fabric paint in the holes. Then you can clean up with fine paintbrush when ur done.

Another technique is you can free hand paint directly onto the fabric. If the fabric isnt sturdy, giving it a base coat of paint before doing your design can make it easier to paint on.

leave edge space at the side of ur patches more than you think you would need, so that you can fold the hems when sewing your patches down. This helps keep the patch together as when unhemmed the fabric edge is exposed and falls apart over time.

you can use dental floss or embroidery floss as alternatives to sewing thread. Dental floss is popular because it is sturdy, cheap, and easy to use, as well as u can burn the end of it if u run out of thread to finish. embroidery floss is fun because you can use different fun colors which adds characters and style. The stitches are also thicker and more visible.

you can make pins using a bottle cap, can tabs, and safety pin and paint! You paint the bottle cap to have ur design. U can sand it down to make it smoother to paint. then you put the tab in the back side of the bottle cap. Then slide the safety pin into the can tab with the pinning on bit facing outward, then flatter the sides of the bottle cap to encase the tab into place. This is a common diy if you google it images will come up for sure.

[anielskaaniela]

Hey! I have just published a new post on my blog about old money style and among all how to achieve this look with sewing from nice patterns for free. If you are interested in learning more about this fashion aesthetic that reflects the elegance, sophistication, and timeless charm of the wealthy elite, you should check it out!

In this post, I will show you:

How to choose the best fabrics for old money style, such as cashmere, wool, silk, and linen

How to sew your own clothes from nice patterns for free, such as blazers, dresses, trousers, and accessories

How to dress well according to old money style, such as choosing the right fit, color, pattern, layering, and shoes.

You can find the link to my post here. I hope you enjoy reading it and find it useful. If you do, please like, reblog, and comment. I would love to hear your feedback and see your creations.

Thank you for following me and supporting my blog. Stay tuned for more posts on fashion, sewing, and DIY!

[trainsandkitties]

Welcome to the North-Western! All aboard

Hello there ladies, gentlemen and everyone in between. Let me introduce you to our beloved gang of Sodor's steamies

Thomas Billinton

Age: appears 18, is actually 75

Height: 175 cm/ 5'7

Sexuality/gender identity: cisgender/ bisexual

Pronouns: he/him

Other: Thom struggles with self-esteem isses, often wishing he was bigger, stronger or faster; he lives in a house with Percy, Annie and Clarabel close to Tidmouth Station; currently doesn't have any relationships; he grew up in Brighton with his older brother Timothy as his only family; when skating became popular he'd do so with Percy; he's a huge comic book fan

Edward Furness

Age: appears to be in his early 60's, is actually 94

Height: 180 cm/ 5'10

Sexuality/gender identity: not labeled/ bisexual

Pronouns: he/they

Other: Eddie grew up in an orphanage in Barrow and Furness; he gets depressive episodes; during his first years on Sodor he had very little money and owned a tiny flat in Knapford before moving in with Gordon; he's a really good painter and can knit or crochet very complex pieces; he managed to graduate from art school; nobody on sodor can make apple fritters like him; before moving to Sodor he had a fiancé who was very toxic and left scared of relationships; he's married to Gordon (not legally)

Henry (Gresley) Stanier

Age: appears to be in his 50's, is actually 71

Height: 189 cm/ 6'2

Sexuality/gender identity: cisgender/ homosexual

Pronouns: he/him

Gordon Gresley

Other: Henry struggles with asthma and Crohn's disease; the Kipper incident left him an amputee (right arm, up to the elbow); he's considered Gordon's half-brother; he adores gardening; all of his plants have bames; he owns a small orchard and makes extra money from selling produce; he lives in a cottage around Knapford; Henry owns a little mongrel named Jackie and owned many rescue dogs before her; he's in a relationship with Hiro

Age: appears to be in his late 40's, is actually 69

Height: 195 cm/ 6'4

Sexuality/gender identity: cisgender/ homosexual /demisexual

Pronouns: he/him (she/her in drag)

Other: Gordon is on the autism spectrum, has severe depression and psychotic episodes; he has moderare h-EDS and anisocoria(uneven pupils caused by his TGR accident); he's a giant cat person and adores anything related to cats; he lives in his great grandmother's old summer house in Tidmouth; acting, drag and singing have always been his escapism; before Edward he had one girlfriend but both realised they were gay; he learned how to sew and tailor clothing and keeps this ability a closely guarded secret

James Hughes

Age: appears to be around 30, is actually 81

Height: 185 cm/ 6'0

Sexuality/ gender identity: non-binary/ pansexual

Pronouns: they/them

Other: James suffers from severe pyrophoba caused by their accident; they live in a bungalow nearby Tbomas and Percy; they have issues with upkeeping relationships so they often change partners, though they've been quite consistent with Spencer so far; James looks up to Gordon often trying to mimick him in many ways, but overtime they found their own style; James came out as non-binary around the 80's

Percy Avonside

Age: appears 18, is actually 93

Height: 170 cm/ 5'6

Sexuality/ gender identity: transgender (ftm)/ not labeled

Pronouns: he/him

Other: Percy was inicially named Priscilla but upon coming to the NWR he was able to come out and live life as his real self; he's often anxious and needs reassurance and support, but can be very brave and sometimes the voice of reason when Thomas and James start fighting; he's very imaginative and loves to hear stories from Salty and Edward

Emily Stirling

Age: appears to be in her 40's, is atually 95

Height: 177 cm/ 5'8

Sexuality/ gender identity: cisgender/ lesbian

Pronouns: she/her

Other: Emily is quite mature and kind but can be sassy and a bit impatient; she's one of James' closest friends and supports them through their ups and downs with relationships; she has a crush on Catilyn and they have a blooming relationship; She lives in a flat in Knapford;

Now some general info on the au etc. (Idk how to make titles ok? lolol)

[thousandyearphantombunker]

i just had a fun idea

In early rwby I think we only ever saw cinder see dust into her clothes and other characters didn't do it despite the fact that apparently that practice is somewhat ancient

And maybe I'm misremembering something but doesn't Ruby know how to sew? And weiss has access to a lot of different dust types and understands glyph symbols

What if weiss gifted ruby some dust and taught her a few things about her family's glyphs and maybe even have weiss look at glynda's glyphs and the ruby began incorporating glyph patterns onto her skirt via embroidery and now ruby uses air dust to amp her speed even more

Idk I think that combined with her glowy silver eyes having glowy silver symbols float around her and be used to push her ridiculous strength and speed to it's limits would look so badass and pretty

Maybe ruby creates little embroidered patches of different people's emblems and weissor yang or Blake sew them into their jackets or something it can be a cute little moment?

Ruby's og look was lolita inspired and so many Lolita's I've seen have some degree of sewing knowledge or enjoy embroidery so I'm just imagining yang and Blake asking for help diy-ing patches for concerts or weiss trying to rely less on her father's money and be less of a perfectionist so she asks ruby to teach her how to sew and Ruby teaches her visible mending because one of Weiss's skirts got ripped and there's no way they can make it look the same so she tells weiss to just have fun with it.

imagine yang having to learn to use her prosthetic and asking for ruby's help with more fine tuned stuff- her arm is great for punching stuff but delicate fine motor skills are hard and Ruby offers to teach her embroidery

Imagine Blake getting caught up in embroidery thread like it's yarn (cause cat joke) or her sewing her favorite quote from one of her books onto a patch (and when asked about it by yang she gets like stupidly flustered- maybe she's embarrassed because the book is for kids or kind of... Dirty or maybe she didn't realize yang was also a fan of that series maybe it's her own poetry and she's too shy to wear it because oof she's putting herself out there and she's afraid people will attack her for her poem being too topical but yang actually enjoys it)

Idk I headcanon ruby as a talented seamstress and considering the scrapes they get into and how aura can only do so much to protect clothes i can imagine ruby using her skills to show her love (acts of service, making little gifts etc) and having weiss slowly piece together that her old style wasn't really her style would be fun and since I see Blake as a bit punk and she's more invested in politics i can imagine her progressively coming out of her shell and being more loud about it after confronting adam- she's no longer running from the fang she's involved all over again

I love the idea of the girls sharing hobbies with each other

Plus I think it would be fun to see ruby interact with Coco and they can both be fashionable queens

[justforbooks]

Iris Apfel was finally recognised as a great, original fashion stylist in her 80s, when the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York had a sudden gap in its 2005 exhibition schedule. Many curators knew Apfel, who has died aged 102, as a collector stashing away clothes, especially costume jewellery, both couture-high and street-market-low, so the institute asked to borrow some of her thousands of pieces.

When Apfel wore them herself, dozens at a time in ensembles collaged fresh daily, they had zingy pzazz, so she was invited to set up the displays. There was no publicity budget, and her name was modestly known only in the interior decor trade, yet the show, Rara Avis: Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection, became a huge success after visitors promoted it online. It toured other American museums, changing exhibits en route because Apfel wanted her stuff back so she could wear it.

Apfel’s grandfather had been a master tailor in Russia; her father, Samuel Barrel, supplied mirrors to smart decorators; her chic mother, Sadye (nee Asofsky), had a fashion shop. They lived out in rural Astoria, in the Queens borough of New York, where Iris was born.

As a child, her treat was a weekly subway trip to Manhattan to explore its shops, her favourites the junk emporia of Greenwich Village. She was short, plain and, until her teen years, plump, but she had style; and the owner of a Brooklyn department store picked her out of a crowd to tell her so. During the Depression all her family could sew, drape, glue, paint and otherwise create the look of a room, or a person, on a budget of cents – the best of educations.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women’s Wear Daily. Furniture and fabrics were in short supply during and after the second world war, and Iris began to earn by sourcing antiques and textiles; if she could not find it, she could make or fake it cheaply.

In 1948 she married Carl Apfel, and they became a decorating team: he had the head for business and she the eye. Unable to find cloth appropriate to a period decor, Iris adapted a design from an old piece and had it woven in a friend’s family mill; she and Carl then set up Old World Weavers in 1952, commissioning traditional makers around the globe.

Photographs and home-movie footage from the next four decades showed Apfel, adorned with elan, haggling for one-off items in souks, flea markets and bric-a-brac shops. She is the most decorative sight in each shot, her ensembles put together with complex cadenzas atop an underlying, tailored, structure– they are like jazz – not a statement, but a conversation.

Apfel was the last of those 20th-century fashion exotics who presented themselves as installations. Although she wore a priest’s warm tunic to the White House (President Richard Nixon underheated the place), plus armfuls of cheap African bracelets and thigh-high boots, she was not an exhibitionist like the Marchesa Casati, and, with her vaudevillian comic timing, was far funnier than the imperious Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.

Also, she never ever bought full-price: her many rails and under-the-bed suitcases of couture were sale-price samples, chosen for their cut, fabric, skilled craftwork and colour dazzle (“Colour can raise the dead”). She might wear them over thrift shop pyjamas, or under a Peking Opera costume, with hawsers of necklaces atop. Money could not buy personal style, she said, prettiness withered, beauty could corrode the soul. All that really mattered was “attitude, attitude, attitude”.

Old World Weavers discreetly refurbished the White House under nine presidents, as well as grand hotels and private houses, before the Apfels sold the company in 1992. They retired to a quiet life in their apartment on Park Avenue, New York, its decor an extension of Apfel’s outfits (bad garment choices were cut up for cushions), and in a Palm Beach holiday home where the Christmas decoration collection stayed up all year round, along with cuddly toys and museum-class folk art. Clothes shopping, and the improvisation of an outfit, became Apfel’s daily ritual, as cooking might be to a gourmet.

But after the Met show, and a book, Rare Bird of Fashion (2007), Apfel was back in as much full-time employment as she could manage in her 80s and 90s (she had a hip replacement because she fell after stepping on an Oscar de la Renta gown). She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant – superb on eye-glasses; she wore large, owl-like, frames to stylise her aged face into a witty, unchanging, cartoon.

She took seriously her responsibilities to fashion students on her course at the University of Texas, teaching them about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

Her career lasted – nothing was ever too late: in 2018, Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon, a book of memoir and sound style advice; in 2019, a contract with the model agency IMG; and last year, a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London. The documentarian Albert Maysles trailed her for Iris (2014), filming this “geriatric starlet” – her term – as she dealt drolly with new high-fashion friends, or laughed at an “Iris” Halloween costume (glasses, a ton of bangles).

She watched as a storage loft of her antique treasures was listed in lots for sale, and as white-gloved assistants from museums that had begged a bequest boxed up her garments; she still had, and wore, the shoes from her wedding. All things, she said, were only on loan in this world, even to collectors. The point was to enjoy them to the full before bidding them good-bye.

Carl died in 2015.

🔔 Iris Barrel Apfel, decorator and fashion stylist, born 29 August 1921; died 1 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[mai-333]

“Buy less. Choose well.”

-Vivienne Westwood

Vivienne Westwood Fall 1995 Ready-to-Wear Look 35 Modelled by Kate Moss

We are living through a global collapse as our oceans are killed by plastic, and our land melted by global warming. The big companies that run our world have decided that money is more important than the planet we all live on, and the fashion industry is not innocent. 10% of the worlds carbon emissions are from the fashion industry alone. Just last year, 235million items of clothing were sent to landfills. In this culture of fast fashion, and micro trends, clothing has become one of the biggest pollutants.

Fashion has always been a major part of society, going as far back to the old ages where it was a sign of social status, to today where it is our main form of self expression. Yet this has been exploited. The pay for labour to make clothing is decreasing, the quality of the clothing is decreasing, and yet the cost is still increasing. Even cheap companies such as Shein are racking in an impressive profit just down to their abysmal production costs. The fashion cycle goes faster, churning out new designs and trends (often stolen from independent designers) so fast that within a month they are old. Even if you aren’t one to be bothered by wearing out of style clothing, don’t worry because the clothes will be unwearably damaged in no time.

Ethical and quality clothing may be more expensive, but in the long run it will cost just the same as the countless cheap versions that have to be bought. Second hand shops, reselling and repurposing, are all great alternatives for shopping ethically. Even sewing, or knitting new clothes will make such a difference. It may be harder to follow all these rapid trends, but by buying less and better quality clothing you will be able to achieve a stable wardrobe that doesn’t need replaced monthly.

[michellemisfit]

Weekly Tag Wednesday Thursday

Thank you @darlingian for creating this week’s game. Thanks for the tag @juliakayyy @lingy910y @jrooc @sam-loves-seb @mmmichyyy @mickeysgaymom @deedala @metalheadmickey @creepkinginc @stocious @mybrainismelted @energievie

Which character from any media would you like to have as a father? 

Magnus Bane (Shadowhunters) would be pretty cool, AND magic.

If money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

Do laws include laws of science and… y’know… reality? If not… Mother fucking dragon, baby!

What is your Chinese takeout order? 

Salt & Pepper chicken. Duck pancakes. Satay chicken. Prawn crackers. An insane quantity of spring rolls for @rutherinahobbit

What's your favorite emoji?

I’ve become very fond of 🫡, but the one I use most often is probably 🥺 - it’s literally my face. I look at Ruth like that and say ‘I am the emoticon’ and then she has to be nice to me… 🥺

Would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

Library. For the aesthetic and the comfy comfy reading nooks! Also I would be able to have all my favourite fic bound and displayed in the library <3 <3 <3

What childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

My Little Pony and Animals Of Farthing Wood

What was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I had it for longer, but I first started really using it for Shadowhunters, and 90% of the fandom was here, before it largely moved to Twitter, and now has been struggling to move back, so has sort of become a bit homeless 🥺

What clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?

Anything neat and tailored. I think it looks fly AF, but I have neither the body type nor the patience for it.

If you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

Stars Hallow is really good shout I’ve seen other people use. Also any fictional TV show that basically takes place in a home, only. I’d be all over that! haha

What is your favorite piece of art? 

I’ve been obsessed with ‘Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening’ ever since I was about 10 years old.

Do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

I recently broke my water bottle so I’ve got a temporary replacement one and I hate it. It’s boring and too big and not the right shape. Grr.

What fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

I’m pretty loud about all my fic feelings. Sometimes I unexpectedly enjoy a Mafia/Crime AU, though I would never go looking for it!

Do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

I’ve got three. A tote bag for when I bring lunch Tupperwares into work or otherwise have to transport big things. A large backpack for when I bring my laptop into work or travel. And a tiiiiiiiny backpack (smaller than A5) and the weirdest thing is how much stuff I manage to fit into it! First Aid Kit. Sewing Kit. Wallet. Phone. Portable Phone Charger. Sunglasses. Tissues. Cigarettes. House keys. Pill box. Misc. hair things for when other people need them.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

Carl. Ultimate chaos couple!!!! 🙌

What is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

We all know the old adage: You're only ever one good fic away from developing that weird kink you keep making jokes about, stay humble.

There’s nothing that hits quite the way an unexpected horny swoop hits! Stay humble. Stay open. Stay curious.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

Mickey Milkovich voice: YUP YUP

Who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

Agree with @lingy910y - I absolutely see Mickey and Carl fighting for the bat! it’s their potato masher!! <3

Tagging @silvanshadow @captainjowl @thisdivorce @crestfallercanyon @heymacy @ohkate @too-schoolforcool @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @callivich @crossmydna @palepinkgoat @vintagelacerosette @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @you-are-so-much-better-than-that @ian-galagher @imikhailotakeyouian @mikhailoisbaby @depressedstressedlemonzest