#shirt and blouse designs for ladies

[thebestshoppingonline]

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[clobug-official]

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[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

FLOTUS Inauguration FASHION

"A ribbon encircling a bouquet of flowers"

"It was such an honor to create the dress for the First Lady Melania Trump tonight.. I can’t thank her enough… it was a wonderful project, a great collaboration… as always !!!!"

"designed by #HervéPierre a strapless off-white silk crepe gown with two bands of black silk gazar. As an accent, Melania borrowed a diamond broach that was created by #HarryWinston in 1955 and wore it as a choker. Its design is meant to reflect Pierre’s concept for the gown – a ribbon encircling a bouquet of flowers – as indicated in his initial sketch for the dress. She also wears classic white leather shoes from #ManoloBlahnik"

A custom navy silk wool coat and pencil skirt with an ivory silk crepe blouse from the New York-born designer Adam Lippes. All three garments were hand-sewn in Manhattan. A custom hat from another native New Yorker, Eric Javits. "The American-made outfit involved a clandestine operation that was orchestrated by her stylist Herve Pierre."

Sunday night Candlelight Dinner

"At the candlelight dinner on Sunday, Melania wore a Yves Saint Laurent cape, a Dolce & Gabbana shirt, a Ralph Lauren belt and a Carolina Herrera skirt, according to Vanessa Friedman, a New York Times fashion critic."

Sunday at Arlington Cemetery

Saturday Florida departure & Fireworks

Thursday Funeral

 

[phrynefishersfrocks]

The first ensemble of "Murder and Mozzarella" (Season 3, Episode 3) features Phryne's classic car coat on top of her printed silk chiffon blouse and classic navy wide-leg pants.

Miss Fisher's usual travel outfit, she wears a flattering red and white silk chiffon blouse patterned with outlines of stacked gingko leaves. Cut in the same style as many of her other shirts, it has a v-shaped neckline and a long tie that loops around the neck and either fastens together or hangs loose at the front. Underneath is a white square-neck camisole with decorative scallop edging along the top.

She pairs this with her navy wide-leg pants and dark heels, as well as her linen hat and matching travel coat. Known as the "ode to detectives" by Marion Boyce, the costume designer, the linen coat is both practical and dramatic, suitable for weathering the elements while traveling or exploring. It has a line of brown and cream horn buttons to fasten the coat, and a wide collar with rounded points. This coat is the most reused item of clothing in the series, with twenty separate appearances across all three seasons (twice in 1x02, 1x03, 1x04, 1x06, 1x08, 1x09, twice in 1x13, 2x01, 2x04, 2x06, 2x07, 2x10, 2x12, here in 3x03, twice in 3x04 and twice in 3x08).

Phryne accessorizes with her linen bucket hat, often seen accompanying her coat (twice in 1x02, 1x04, 1x06, 1x08, 1x09, 1x13, 2x02, 2x03, 2x04, 2x06, 2x07, 2x10, 2x12, and here in 3x03 as well), and a pair of frosted white earrings with silver caps (bottom left of the costume exhibition photo). As suitable for an adventurous lady of the '20s, she also wears linen crocheted driving gloves with leather accents, and a large cream handbag.

Season 3, Episode 3 - "Murder and Mozzarella"

Screencaps from here, promotional photos from here and here, costume exhibition photo and hat photo from the official Pinterest.

[amymbona]

Notice how the I TOLD YA shirt is the only - apart from Stanford merch or official sports wear - piece of clothing in the whole Challengers, that has anything printed on it? It's the only piece that's so different to the designer stuff or expensive sports gear, so basic and giving you the impression that you could find something really similar in your local New Yorker.

It's kind of ironic that Patrick is the one to own it, as we know he's the richest of the three, at least in the beginning. I feel like it's meant to show us that he couldn't care less for his background or the way people percieve him. The way he doesn't even seem to wash it that often, we all know it probably stinks with the mess od his and Tashi's sweat.

And Tashi. Seeing her wear it looks almost odd, as if she shouldn't have it on, because she's such a graceful lady who should prioritize dresses and blouses and something pretty. But she does wear it: because it's Patrick's, because it reminds her of her boyfriend. And if she really doesn't like the way it looks, she still puts it on when Patrick is coming to visit her, because she knows it'll make him happy.

Such a simple piece of fabric with a silly slogan but I feel like there's a lot hidden behind it.

[avikard]

EQUESTRIA GIRLS HAVE ALWAYS STRUCK ME AS TERRIBLY UNDESIGNED FROM A DESIGN STANDPOINT and i want to show you how I tried to fix it for my own amusement

(they are arranged by height from high to low)

Fluttershy, my sweet girl, has always seemed to me to have been left out by the authors in the question of what kind of clothes she might like to wear to include in the design. what the hell are tall boots? what the hell are open tops? no no no no no, that's not good. i think such a modest, but strong schoolgirl would go for a discreet set of clothes - light skinny jeans, ballet flats, a plain white shirt (after all, we are in an educational institution here!) and the crown of the outfit - a knitted cardigan with butterflies, referring both to her cutiemark and to the soft warm-loving vibe. she has a fairly light shade of both hair and fur, so she's a light colored girl with blonde long curls and turquoise eyes.

Applejack sometimes undeservedly makes her too inexpressive in terms of muscles, which suits her very well, but sometimes they move too far away from the “femininity” in her face and body (according to my personal preference), which is why she ceases to be read as exactly that character, which we see in games. so i tried to convey the harmony of her beautiful strong body and “femininity”. the only character that the original design boots look good on is the cool country thing (as do wide-leg jeans, a cute two-tone shirt and a RED KERCHIEF WITH RED BOWTS). her earrings reference a cutiemark! i removed the hat because, although it is an Apple feature, it looks out of place as part of a school outfit. let's assume she wears it when not in class. she is a strong girl with simple features, but with gorgeous blonde curls… tanned, freckled, with beautiful green eyes. exactly the way i read her original pony version.

Rarity is simply a beauty, an irresistible lady. she was probably the least in need of correction in my eyes (not counting the damn boots, my God, they were so out of place). her jewelry is a pretty obvious cutie mark reference, and her skirt is a different style to highlight her hips. a plain blouse turned into a luxurious jumper (?) with a chic neckline. dark nylon tights, elegant shoes - everything to look the most chic and stylish in school. I think this look suits her terribly. she is a very fair (most likely she takes great care of her skin in this regard) girl with brown hair and charming blue eyes. all this in her is diluted by a cute gap between her front teeth, which she is proud of.

Rainbow Dash for me will always be a schoolgirl with not the most expressive muscles, but with unreal strength! that's why she doesn't have as muscular a body as Applejack, but everything else about her says, no, SCREAMES that she's a first-class runner and certainly not a weakling! she has a light tracksuit, cool sneakers, a cool jacket, cool eyebrow piercings, cool ear piercings, a cool scar on her leg, cool colored hair (slightly grown out), generally everything is cool. she has wheat hair and light brown eyes. if Rarity is the most beautiful and fashionable girl in school, then she is the coolest and she knows it.

Twilight is a diligent, nerdy student who i associate with magicians (those with cool frilly shirts and huge hats), which i wanted to reflect in her image. so she's in a rather old-fashioned, but interesting way - a knee-length plaid school skirt, a shirt with puffy sleeves and a big bow, asian school shoes. yes, yes, yes, she is asian with the typical skin tone and straight black hair. i love how Twilight’s character fits perfectly with the image of an asian student, accustomed to studying for something more in the future, well-read and erudite.

Pinky is simply a wonderful girl with a bright image to match her character. instead of the typical skirts and blouses, i tried on a denim sundress and sneakers with large knee socks, as well as a huge pile of jewelry: friendship baubles, earrings, pendants, more baubles, hairpins, badges - a chaotic image, like Pinky herself. her natural hair color is red, so she's a blue-eyed curly redhead, which just suits her!!!!

the designs of the princesses in Equestria Girls struck me as so tasteless in their entirety even more than the designs of the mane six. they had to be remade very radically, so they are more of a bonus! further there will be more headcanons along with comments directly about the designs.

Celestia is a cool, elegant, wise principal (that’s what the students think of her, Luna doesn’t think so) and her image emphasizes this. the headmistress doesn’t belong with colored hair, so i interpreted her mane as a beautiful neck scarf to go with her crimson suit. a golden brooch in the shape of a sun, a golden watch, a golden hairpin in the shape of a laurel - this is all about her status and services to the school. she has wheat hair and purple eyes - an extremely rare phenomenon, but it does occur in real life. she works to organize student learning experiences, field trips to museums, and more hands-on learning opportunities. although she really does a lot for the school, many do not notice how much rests on the shoulders of the vice-principal, standing somewhere behind Celestia at all events…

Luna is the vice-principal of the school, whose merits are often belittled. she always bears all the bureaucratic part of the work, she is engaged in a bunch of duties that require a long time of reading and double-checking documents, drawing up reports and working with other papers. most often she sits in her office and is often the last one to leave school. she is not Celestia’s sister, but they have known each other for so long that it’s like they really are sisters (there are legends around the school about whether they are related or not). she has a silver brooch in the shape of a month and a laurel hairpin similar to Celestia's. she has thick, dark, curly hair and a streak of gray hair from her temple, caused by stress at work, and blue eyes. no matter what, she sincerely loves her students and tries to organize their time at school besides studying (clubs, events and movie nights are all her initiatives).

THANK YOU FOR READING, i hope you enjoyed diving into my vision of it all!!

BONUS FOR THOSE WHO READ, my designs of Applejack and Pinkie to the cover of the "Gypsy Bard" from Friendship is Witchcraft on youtube!!

[biorust-art]

Laudna redesign!

- [Image Description. Two digital drawings of Laudna from Critical Role. The background is a muted purple, and one drawing is a full body of Laudna turned to the left. Her head is tilted down and she stands with her hands folded in front of her. Her dress was inspired by Edwardian evening gowns, giving her a white blouse with dark purple bodice that has poofy sleeves and parts down the middle to give way for the rest of the lace skirt. Her corset wraps around her waist with red ribbon tied and looped around her hips. The corset also has marigolds and poppies on them. The red matches her shoes and the ribbon and flowers that are piled in her gibson-girl-like hair style. The lace at the bottom of the skirt have repeating oval designs, and within them are trees with a hanging body on it. She still has her choker with the red jewel at her neck, and Pate's house on her back. The second drawing is a bust of Laudna's face, showcasing the flowers in her hair and her boney face. End ID]

I HOPE that does a good job at describing the redesign choices, I don't know technical fashion terms,,,

Also, I'm caught up with CR now, which brings me to Not So Lady Like Laudna (beloved)

Post Sky Sailing.... I love them so much

[Image Description: A drawing of Laudna and Chetney. Laudna is squatting down, with her skirt bunched up by her knees, her hair is out of its bun, looking wild. She cheers very loudly, with one hand raised for a high five. Chetney is on her side, also cheering loudly. He is also redesigned, wearing a high neck athletic shirt and vintage football gear and white pinstripe pants. Chet's hand is also raised for a high five. End ID]

[the-fiction-witch]

Britches

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty AF

I woke to the bright morning light, turned over a little and sat up in bed, I yawned my body ached and stiff from last night, and the busy bustle of yesterday. I pushed myself out and adjusted the bed as I climbed out. I stretched my naked body feeling the sweet stretched sensation run over me, and I rubbed my eyes begining the search for my clothes. Unfortunately, most of what I found was not wearable, it was all soaked in the blood from yesterday's surgery, in no greater terms an utter disaster. But such is the issue when we actually let the Prof try and do anything remotely complicated. My dress was covered, as was my apron, the only things not completely wrecked were my undershirt and panties. Everything else was designed for a good long soak in the laundry. 

Unfortunately, that left me in a bit of a situation. All my clothes are wrecked,

I have to get them down to the laundry at least,

I don't have any clothes up here of my own, which really is foolish I should start keeping them here, 

But what am I to do? 

Not like I can go down to the laundry in the nude. 

All though I'm sure some in the hospital would be amused by it.

I sighed and threw my clothes over the chair to deal with in a moment, and I spotted out of the corner of my eye the large wooden wardrobe at the door of the bed. 

Well, it's worth a check maybe I have left some of my clothes here at some point or another. 

I pulled open the wooden doors seeing the various shelves and clothes littering them, I searched around but found nothing of my own. 

Well there goes that Idea then, 

but as soon as that one left another arrived as I saw the various clothes littered inside, well... I do need clothes. 

I slipped on my panties and my usual boots as my undershirt was alright too I slipped that on too buttoning the blouse shirt down the buttons that reached halfway down my chest, I then buttoned the sleeves at my elbows as I never bothered them any lower they'd only be wrecked by blood and... I don't want to think about what else, and out of the wardrobe I grabbed a pair of brown britches, the fabric once had a sort of plaid pattern in a darker brown but the wash and wear had left it almost unnoticeable. 

I pulled them out and gave them a dust off from the wardrobe before I slipped them on, strangely enough rather a fight to do so, given they were not sized, designed, cut or themed for a lady. Let alone a lady such as myself! 

Mostly due to the man who wears them being... well... as thin as a lamppost, and myself as thick as hospital leek soup. 

It was a fight to get them over my sizeable arse but I managed it. 

Even if now over my ass they didn't fit my waist. I buttoned them up as tightly as I could even if the waist was now under my breast.

I don't know why I assumed it wouldn't given he's so much taller than me. And it's not like he has them particularly low on himself. 

But I have to admit...

I look kinda good. 

Something defendant about it, something rebellious, something a little naughty. 

To look at how good I looked and be constantly reminded I could never be in public like this, 

I grabbed a pair of suspenders and clipped them to the britches in hopes of keeping them up giving them a firm snap on my shoulders.

"Owww..." I complained as the snap actually hurt! 

Oh. Now I feel bad about how much I do it to him. 

"What the Bloody Hell are you doing?" 

I gulped and turned my attention to the bed, where Jack lay looking at me with a messy bedhead and an unamused look. 

"Good Morning Jack," I smiled innocently,

"I repeat. What the Bloody hell are you doing?" 

"Getting dressed."

"Into my clothes!"

"... My clothes are dirty." I did my best innocent smile, 

"So you're gonna wear mine?"

"I'm going to borrow them. Just for a while."

"You really think you're gonna go out like that?"

"I don't see why not?" 

"I can think of a few reasons," he said as he sat up and he stared at me, 

"Don't you think I look nice Jack," I smiled as I moved to stand in front of him and I did a little twirl, He stared with a sly smile. He rested his hands on my hips and slowly turned me to look at me but stopped almost as soon as I faced away from him and just kept me there, "Jack?" I asked after a while, before I felt a firm smack on my ass "Jack!" 

"Ah ah ah I'm looking." He smirked before he wrapped his arms around me tightly and began kissing the small of my back, "Take them off."

"What?"

"Take them off. Now."

"I'm only borrowing them I'll give them back once I clean my dress"

"That wasn't a question. It was an order." He growled, "You take them off or I will."

"Excuse me?" I giggled but before I could say another word he forced me down on the bed "Ahh Jack!" I giggled, 

"This isn't up for debate darling." He glared, as he loomed over me. "I have to admit, you do look good." he smirked, "But there is also something kinda weird about you wearing them... like from the waist down... it just looks like you a very attractive man and, I don't know how I feel about that." He said before he began to undo them but he was struggling,

"Jack these are yours, how are you struggling to remove them?" I giggled,

"Becuase I'm normally wearing them!" He defended, "Strangely enough darling I don't have much experience removing trousers off someone else." 

"Jack you spent ten years in the Navy you cannot convince me you never once removed another man's pants."

"what are you implying." He glared 

"I'm implying you were sucking some D-"I began but he put a hand over my mouth 

"Alright, I was gonna be nice. Not anymore." He warns forcing me down on my stomach...

[lunarvampz]

In Bloom (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

TW: MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM, TRAUMATIC MEMORIES, IMPLICATIONS OF PREVIOUS SEXUAL ASSAULT.

everyone kisses everyone and thats just normal, dutch is creepy, bill is a mankisser. arthur craves connection, he also craves new underwear. semen. reader jokes about trauma, arthur is bad at woman-ing.

word count for this chapter :7568

STARS : ✩★✩ - Indicate a swap in pov, from reader to arthur, arthur to reader etc. ENJOY!

Chapter 7 Juniper

“Well, hey there, Sunshine!”, A snarky Abigail swished over and sat beside you at the table. You held your cup of hot tea close to you, the steam heating the bottom of your face and you half-smiled. “Good morning.”

Every morning for the past week you’ve been here, Abigail had made a point to sit with you. She briefly mentioned the warm-up period for new people and how it felt for her, along with other tidbits about each person. “I reckon you and Mary-Beth will get along nicely, I saw your little collection of books, you both have a keen interest in… romance.”

She does not give up. You both exchanged knowing looks, hers a little more naughty. Yes, every day for the past seven days, Arthur had stopped by your station at least once, offering his help to you. It was a little awkward as he seemed indifferent to your presence in the camp, which was unusual. Abigail said he was keeping a front up when you asked her about it and that having you surrounded by everyone he’s family with might have freaked him out, but she didn’t know what was bothering him.

“Well, I’m off to feed the horses, you better get your behind moving too before Miss Grimshaw starts riding up it.” she laughed, already walking off cheerily.

Your job had been the laundry for the near future, Miss Grimshaw said it would be helping out whilst getting some time away to sit and process, but she emphasised getting the clothes clean and stain-free first.

Laundry was done once a week, so it was your first time. While it was everyone's responsibility to leave their dirty clothes in the designated basket, some people were either forgetful or lazy, so it was the laundry lady’s duty to search tents for washing.

You looked around the women’s area first, unsurprisingly, there was nothing but a blouse that must’ve been forgotten about. Next was the men's area, unsurprisingly, there was much to be picked up.

Searching through the tents, you found multiple dirty pairs of trousers, and you were honestly scared of what was on some of them. You got around, picking up stray sheets and shirts, and then there was one. One tent. Your breath hitched as you pulled back the panel, cautiously scanning for any items in need of a wash. Nothing. A clean one, he is.

Something caught your eye, sticking out from under his cot. Underwear… You shuddered, slowly bending over to pick them up. Oh my. A wet stain stared you in the face, you couldn't lie to yourself because you knew exactly what it was. A strangled cough escaped from your throat as you flushed pink, hastily laying the garment on the pile of items. 

My dearest Lord, please help this man control his thoughts, so he may avoid situations like this, amen. Praying wasn’t a common occurrence for you anymore, but a little something for encouragement never hurt anyone.

——————————

You sat by the river and filled the metal basin, sprinkling washing soda into the water. After loading the clothes into the basket, you laid down in the sun and thought to yourself about many things, including the obscure position you were in.

Mere weeks ago you were being ordered around and mistreated by your own blood, and now, you were surrounded by the most welcoming bunch of people you’d come across in your life, which wasn’t hard to beat.

They understood what it was like to be unwanted and needing to fight for their own, they were stronger and closer than a regular family, they were ride or die.

The afternoon sun slipped through the tree branches, providing a slight warmth, probably one of the last hints of autumn before everything plunged into cold. You rolled onto your side, embracing the soft, grassy bank and everything that clouded your mind had dissipated in a brief moment of clarity, and for a short while, time slowed, and you felt truly at peace.

——————————

The laundry hit the table with a loud thud, causing a few turned heads, but they quickly resumed their tasks. It was a bit weird, considering you used to be able to yell and slam things, all whilst being ignored. Not even a glance in your direction was given, regardless of your cries.

Never mind all of that, you had a job to do.

Within a few minutes, the wet washing was pinned to clotheslines, earning you Miss Grimshaw's nod of approval. 

“Looks good, thank you for helping out.” A kind voice came from behind you, causing you to pivot on your heels swiftly. “Mary-Beth, Hi. It’s the least I can do. Thank you.” You smiled nervously, this was the second interaction you’d had with her since being here. 

Behind her, Karen and Tilly unloaded their belongings from the wagon. They had been out for half the week on a ‘score’. You weren’t sure what it was for, but you had no authority to ask questions. She held a book in her hand, you tilted your head to get a closer look. Pride and Prejudice.

“You have good taste.” You gestured to the book. She paused and looked at her hand for a moment before it clicked.

“Oh my gosh, thank you! Jane Austen is a literary genius, I’ve probably read this book more than ten times.” She smiled cheerfully, caught up in her whimsical world.

“I agree! I love her writing, I have my own copy of that somewhere in my belongings, along with the pile of other romances, I’ll lend you some if you ever wanted something else to read, maybe you could find a fresh book.” You smiled back, earning a nod and a thanks.

Karen beckoned her before she could open her mouth again, which is when she waved and turned around, scurrying back over to help the others.

It was almost too good to be true, this place. Open air, somewhat friendly people, the absence of disdain, and no one to confine you or tear you down. You looked around, watching nature surround you and sighed. The sun had risen fully, so all you had to do now was wait for the clothes to dry and maybe unpack a little too.

——————————

Mirror in hand, you inspected the freshly-healed scars that were scattered over your face, they were barely noticeable but felt like a permanent, ugly tainting of your body. Tears began to form as you rolled down the side of your skirt, facing the harsh lines that clustered on your hip, your own doing, over many years.

You remembered how terrified you were, balled up, naked, forcibly stripped of your clothes and examined like a specimen. The harsh hands of your mother grabbed and prodded at your limbs, looking for any other cuts or scars. She had muttered words like ‘stupid’ and ‘unwell’ as her eyes frantically scanned your skin.

She had found the blood on your clothes earlier, had come into your room, raging like a tornado and made you tell her everything, it went on for…

The tears had begun falling onto your blouse by the time you snapped out of it, you wish you could forget it, all of it, everything. The cutting, the abuse, the anger, the fear, that one life-changing day all those years ago. His face. You shuddered, fixing your shirt and putting down the mirror, slumping onto your bed. Bitterness filled your soul as you picked at the flowers on your nightstand, a sprig of juniper, and you wondered… Why you?

Sniffling quietly, you looked around your small space, happy with the work you had done, everything was unpacked and neatly organised. What caught you by surprise was Miss Grimshaw popping her head inside the entrance to tell you the laundry was dry. She saw your face, red and puffy, and frowned. “I know it's a tough transition.”

“A bit, but I’ll be okay.” You weakly smiled, wiping the remaining wetness from your face. A warm smile was given in return and with that, she pulled over the flaps and left you be. Laundry.

You pushed yourself up and ran your hands over your face, deeply exhaling. Drawing back the cloth, you made your way back over to the clotheslines, picking off the warm, crisp garments and folding them into piles. Each person had their initials on the hemline of each item, making things a lot easier on yourself.

After putting the piles back into the basket, you worked your way around camp delivering them to their designated places. First, the women, then the men, and finally…

Standing in front of his tent, you felt the jitters creeping up on you. His clothes were the last ones in the basket, his laundry only consisted of a few items, two shirts, some socks and some drawers. A tingle ran down your spine, recalling what you had found earlier.

The flaps of his tent pushed open, and Arthur came through them, almost charging into you, and he blurted your name with startlement. 

“I have your uh… laundry here.” A nervous smile spread across your face as you offered up the basket in his direction. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine. Just…” He coughed, breathing heavily “Lost something a lil’ personal, I’m sure it’ll turn up. Thanks.” Looking down at the pile in front of him, he stopped for a moment. You were confused until you followed his line of sight, straight to the drawers. Those drawers.

Both of you looked each other in the eye. He knew. He knew that you knew. A pale pink flushed his cheeks before he quickly snatched the clothes up. “Uh, I appreciate it, thank you.”

“It’s my job.” You laughed dryly, wanting this to be over. “I’ll see you around, Mr Mor- Arthur. I’ll see you around, Arthur.”

“Of course. I better get back to it then.” He grunted quietly, before turning back into his tent.

✩★✩

Every damn day since that morning you had kept having dreams about her. Every morning you woke up with soaked drawers all because of her, it made you want, but it also made you slightly annoyed having to wash a pair every day.

The dreams didn’t stop, one night it was about her at the inn, then the saloon, in her bedroom, in the cornfields. All the places you had been together, devilish thoughts displayed themselves in your head every night. You didn’t know how to feel. It was unusual for you to feel like this, maybe you just missed what you had with Mary too much. Oh, Mary.

As you scoured your whole tent for today's pair of underwear, you became increasingly anxious that someone had found them. Shit. Laundry day. You began to heave and groan in annoyance, pushing through the panels of your tent only to find her, basket in arms.

✩★✩

You glanced at your pocket watch. 6:26 pm. Shoving it back into your pocket, you made your way to the stew pot as you had become quite hungry after a day of labour. The wind, now chilling, whistled through the camps surrounding trees and through the fabric of the tents, fanning the flames of the fire under the stew, and blowing your hair from your face. You reached for the pile of bowls, grabbing one off the top and serving yourself a portion.

It was difficult to find a place to eat, unwilling to sit amongst the men and scared to interrupt the women, after careful consideration, you found yourself sitting on the ground near a lonesome fire on a small hill near the edge of camp. You hummed to yourself, scooping bits of stew into your mouth whilst intently staring into the raging flames, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

You leaned against a crate, placing the empty bowl beside you and staring out over the camp. Everyone got along, regardless of the amount of shit they gave each other, you found it heartwarming and it was something you deeply yearned for in a familial way. One day.

The sound of hooves hitting the ground grew close, pulling to a halt at the hitching post. Two pairs of spurs came up behind you, and a voice followed, calling your name. You turned, a pleasant expression on your face as you greeted Dutch and Arthur.

“Miss, I am terribly sorry for not having a formal conversation with you earlier, it’s been a very busy week.” Dutch spoke regretfully, voice smooth and charismatic, now standing in front of you, Arthur by his side. “It’s a pleasure to have you join our family.” He smiled, a suggestive undertone in his charming voice, extending his hand for you to shake.

Pushing yourself up from the ground, you put your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he brought his mouth to the back of it, leaving a kiss. Arthur raised an eyebrow, coughing slightly. He looked at you, almost lost for words and patted Dutch’s shoulder to let go, and Dutch looked at you, a sly smirk plastered on his face.

“Um, thank you, Mr Van der Linde.”, This oddly intimate moment made your voice small, definitely out of the ordinary for you, but maybe this was the way they did things here.

“Please, Just Dutch.” He stated. “Well, I need to go talk logistics over with Hosea, but you should come to mingle with the people in a few, and we’ll have a proper celebration for your arrival.” And with that, he turned around and walked off.

“Ignore him, he has a thing for pretty young women, despite being in his forties.” Arthur half chuckled, but before you could say anything, he spoke again. “Anyway, I’ll, uh, take your bowl for you, jus’ come down when you’re ready.” A slight smile pulled at his lips and he crouched down and swept the bowl up before following in Dutch’s trail.

You got a whiff of whiskey when he bent down, which would explain his at-ease manner, although he was definitely far from drunk. It had been a long time since seeing him inebriated, you almost forgot what he was like.

⬞“You alrigh’ there, little lady?” Arthur couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at your struggle to remain composed.

Shaking your head, you choked on your own saliva. Luckily, it only lasted a few more seconds before you could finally clear your throat and lean back into the chair, red-faced and a little embarrassed at yourself. You noticed the gruff men at the bar giving you a look that said, ‘Get over yourself,’ you slid down into the chair more, turning your attention to the glass on the table.

“Well, that was quite the show.”⬞

Your mind played back the memory in your head and a small chuckle escaped your chest, you couldn’t believe how you ended up in an inn with someone you barely knew. He took care of you. 

The heat of the fire radiated on your clothing and exposed skin, flames casting orange tones against the surrounding area, you looked over at the other fire in the middle of the camp, pleased faces, enveloped in the same amber hues, laughing, joking, teasing.

A tugging in your chest pulled you forward, walking the same path the two men had taken into the heart of camp. Dutch was finishing up his conversation when he slinked over to you, taking you under his arm and proudly announcing to everyone your full name, where you came from and why you have decided to ride with them.

“Now I expect everyone to be welcoming to this fine young woman, make sure she feels at home.” With that, he gave you a squeeze and led you to the fire, where Arthur was relaxing.

He was sat on one of the chairs, legs spread, leant back with his hands resting on his thighs, one holding a bottle of alcohol. His hat covered his eyes, leaving the lower half of his face visible, and you could see his mouth contorting into a playful smirk as Javier said something you couldn’t make out.

Karen had scooted out of the way to make space for you on the log, patting the seat. You sat down and thanked her, adjusting your skirt.

“Miss Hotel, what a beautiful woman you are.” Karen chuckled loudly, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand, she offered you a drink but you declined, wary of how you were last time, and not wanting to be greedy.

“Is that seriously what I’m known as? Oh god.” Shame and embarrassment filled your chest. “No, no, don’t get your panties in a twist, girl. Abigail just fills me in about everything.” She reassured you with an inviting laugh, swinging her arm around you. “We need to get you out of your shell a little, then you’ll fit right in.” A devious grin plastered her flushed face.

“Something is telling me that Arthur’s lap is a nice place for your ass, I mean come on, look at him!” She teased, gesturing to him. You both watched as he adjusted himself a bit, tugging slightly at the fabric on his crotch and laughed softly at another joke from Javier about lawmen that you didn’t quite catch.

He took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, craning his neck to drink down the honey-coloured liquid. His hand returned to his leg, and you watched the exposed part of his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh, it was gorgeous. 

Karen snickered beside you, gently pushing your back and forcing you up before scooching over so you couldn't sit back down. You desperately searched for a different seat only to find them all filled, looking back at a smug Karen, she mouthed, ‘Go’, at you and once again gestured to him.

Here goes nothing.

You had no idea what you were going to say and by the time you had walked up to him, you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Hey, um, is this seat taken?” Your voice was a little unsure, almost sounding like a squeak, your finger pointed to his lap. So smooth. This earned a few whistles, and a couple of laughs, a buzzed Arthur looked up at you, cheeks flushed, which you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or your question.

He looked at you in astonishment for a few moments before cracking a smile. “Uh, no it’s not.” A yearning look in his eyes searched your face, wondering if this was a joke or not.

You stood there awkwardly for a second, debating on whether you were actually committing to this. Hell, might as well. Stepping forward, you watched Arthur’s eyes change from questioning to surprise, then from surprise to appetition.

He shuffled to sit up a little more, patting his thigh before guiding you down by your waist. “Well hell-o, Darlin’.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, slightly amused in his tone, grip firm and strong on your hip. Stiffly sat you were, careful not to move around, it was a little unpleasant but you had committed, so now you had to lay in the grave you dug yourself. “You don’t mind if I take a drink, do you?” Gesturing to his whiskey bottle, you calculated how much you’d need to drink to get tipsy, a good, long sip should have been enough.

Arthur handed you the bottle, a little warily at that, but you guzzled down a mouthful of the liquid quickly, swallowing and immediately coughing, to which he rubbed your back slowly and soon enough, it subsided.

“Thank you.” A grin adorned your face, beaming with laughter, you would never get used to the burn. Arthur’s chest heaved with a heavy breath, leaning into you whilst simultaneously pulling you closer, he was blood-hot and wild, something you felt a need for. Maybe older men weren’t all bad. 

——————————

About an hour had passed and now you were certainly tipsy, borderline buzzed, but learning from your past mistakes, you hadn’t overdone it. Arthur was now edging into drunk territory, still perfectly articulate, but louder.

As everyone got increasingly intoxicated the atmosphere changed. Louder, funnier. The jokes got more abrasive and dirty, some of which you saw were hurled towards John about his ‘poor luck’, others towards Bill about ‘what way he swings’, and more that you didn’t really pay attention to.

Some of them had asked you some questions about your upbringing, which you answered truthfully, mentioning your strict parents and their neglect and favouritism without getting too specific or dark. Arthur’s thumb rubbed circles on your hip while you talked about it, and his face grew sorrowful.

You hadn’t noticed what he was doing until you felt soft caresses on your upper arm, which caused your head to snap back around to look at him, he looked up at you with doe-like eyes, filled with grief. “Oh, I’m so sorry…” His words were so quiet, that only you could hear them. “You’ve been through… So much.” Tender fingertips placed more gentle grazes on your shoulder before he rested his forehead against it.

It was shocking, to say the least, that this big tough man had a soft spot for unfortunate women, maybe that’s why he had been so helpful to Abigail. Big tough outlaw. You giggled, shrugging it off as it seemed he was content where he was.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in honour of our newest member, I propose a game! A game of getting to know people. Never have I ever seems fitting.” Dutch’s voice bellowed from a few meters in front of you as he approached the circle. “And would you look at that, she’s already found herself a nice seat, cozied up with the lovely Mr Morgan.” This earned a few whistles, a grumble from Arthur and a cheer from Karen. You laughed it off to not stir the pot and let him continue.

“Maybe a little spin the bottle later.” He taunted, ushering everyone to sit in a circle. “Now, does everyone have something to drink? Good. I’ll start.” He thought for a second.

“Never have I ever… Stolen something.” Everyone laughed and there wasn’t a single person who didn't drink, including yourself.

Tilly piped up next. “Never have I ever, read an entire book in one day.” Obviously looking at Mary-Beth as she sheepishly took a sip. Hosea took a sip and so did you.

It only took a few more questions before it started to turn dirty, as all games like this do. You had dodged drinking for the last few questions but when Javier spoke, you knew you were going to be the centre of attention.

“Never have I ever… lost my virginity.” He asked boldly, a scheming laugh following. Your back stiffened a little as you gently reached for Arthur’s bottle, quietly taking a sip and not making a big deal of it. This earned surprised looks from many people, including Arthur, who smirked and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“Well, I didn’t know that.” He announced in a stunned tone, something shifting in his mood that you couldn’t put your finger on.

Eyes were on you as you looked around, an anxious pit forming in your gut and a clammy sensation covering your hands. Shocked were some, confused were others. Javier continued after, “Man, she was unforgettable, squealed like a pig when I ploughed her fields.” A cheering John patted him on the shoulder before announcing his own story, “At least she was into it, my first time was with a girl who tried so hard to get into my pants then when I decided to fuck her, she just… laid there and gave me an occasional moan.”

A bitter-faced Abigail huffed, covering Jack's ears as Tilly offered to take him away from the conversation. She rolled her eyes, listening to the men giggle amongst themselves, and cleared her throat.

“My first time was something special, Billy Mavis, whew, was he a man. Stole some wine from his parents and took me down to a lakeside, from there, it’s mostly a blur, but believe me when I say, I saw stars.”

Silence fell over the camp as she finished, the men had stopped laughing to themselves and, instead, scratched their necks as John grumbled in his seat. It amused you to see how quickly he had stopped laughing, although, you couldn’t grasp why he would be so annoyed by her comment.

Karen chuckled to herself before turning to you, you only registered what she was about to say as the smirk left her opening mouth.

“And what about you? I’m sure you’ve got quite the story, with a face like that, I reckon men would give up a lot to try their hand at you.” Her words reopened that pit in your stomach, a sense of dread looming over you as you watched everyone turn their attention to you again.

“Damn Arthur, you really know how to pick em’. Hey, Hermosa, if he can’t give it to you the way you need, you know where my tent is.” The chuckling flooded amongst the men again as Javier ‘offered his services’ and whistled. “Never fucking say that again. I mean it.”, Arthur hissed, pulling you against his chest which was puffed and solid. Something changed in an instant, whipping Arthur into alertness. His fingers dug themselves into your hip, it didn’t hurt, and you didn’t wince as it got tighter, but it didn’t stop.

“Chill, brother. We’re all friends here, right?” The smooth-talking demeanour dropped slightly and you could tell Javier was a little on edge. By this point, everyone had stopped again and the only noise that you could focus on was the crackling embers of the fire. Silence. Silence.

A simple cough drew everyone back to you, and you mustered up some confidence and lied.

“Well, Karen, you aren’t uh- wrong on that. But my first time… um…” Silence.

“Uh… It was with a boy I met a few months after my 15th birthday. It was pretty awkward, not a lot of chit-chat after he came in approximately 9 seconds and called me his ‘dirty pig’, I think he may have wanted to actually have sex with a pig, I’m not one hundred perce-”

“No way that’s what happened, oh, you sweet girl.” Karen heaved, you weren’t sure if it was an exaggeration but it cut the tension and that’s what you were grateful for. “He sounds like one of them weird farm boys, y’know, maybe a little slow and definitely is too touchy with the sheep.” She cackled.

“Ahah… Yeah, he was.” Whether anyone believed you is a burning question that was left unanswered, but things soon resumed in a more light-hearted manner. Well, light-hearted was a stretch, but everyone was laughing again, and soon, all was well.

——————————

You watched as the glass bottle spun, whirring around on the crate, anticipating where it would land, eventually, it came to a slow stop. Bill.

“You’ve gotta be joking.” John exclaimed, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Snickers were plenty as Bill rose from his chair, using his finger to beckon him over. “You ain’t a man till’ you’ve been with one.”

Everyone whistled and giggled to each other as they watched John get up and walk over to him. “Are you challenging me? Think I ain’t a man? Think about this!” In an instant, John grabbed Bill by the back of the neck and smashed his lips against his. It was brief but impactful, as Bill pulled away with a crimson flush.

With that, he reached for the bottle, oddly quiet, it spun and landed on a certain loud-mouthed ginger, who, strangely, cheered. “Come here ya’ big bear! Gimme a smooch!” By the sounds of it he was certainly out of it, way past the point of drunk, you knew he’d regret it in the morning.

All the men hoped to land on one of the women, but the numbers were not in their favour. Men would have to kiss men, and you prayed that if anyone got you, it was a woman.

Bill seemed nervous the second time around, less confident and timid. Sean, however, was jumpy, and before you knew it, the feisty Irishman had dipped Bill, passionately slobbering his tongue all over his mouth. 

“Enough! Jesus, Sean.” Javier cackled, grimacing at the sight. Sean pulled off of him before turning around to everyone and bowing, almost stumbling as he stood up straight again.

“A’right, my turn!” Sean declared with excitement as he strutted over to the bottle, rubbing his hands together like a lucky mosquito before giving it a spin. Everyone excitedly tried to peer over to the bottle as it made its rounds, anxiously anticipating its next victim.

As it slowed, you watched people bunch together to avoid being ‘it’, and soon it came to an underwhelming stop. Karen. You looked up to find her face dumbfounded and pink, stammering out nothing but incoherent sounds.

“Hell yes! Come here and get some of this Irish sugar!” Sean hollered, making grabbing motions in her direction whilst puckering his chapped lips.

“Can it.” A sudden change washed over her as she stood up, she puffed her chest out and went straight for him, swigging her bottle of whiskey without swallowing and using her spare hand to reach for the collar of his shirt, yanking his body into hers.

Sweet liquid poured from their mouths as she kissed him, and it dripped down her chest into her cleavage. Suddenly she had disconnected from him and shoved his face in it. “Lick it up, Spitfire.”

Everyone watched as Sean rubbed his face in her tits, tonguing her skin for any remnants of liquor. The girls cheered her on as she held the back of his head, swinging her bottle in the air and laughing.

Soon enough she let him go, letting him up for air. You watched as he pulled away, drunk on more than just alcohol and giggly as ever.

Sean sat back down with a thud and a mildly shocked expression on his face, getting a pat on the back from John, and inconspicuously placed his bottle over his crotch, which only you seemed to notice.

Definitely something going on there.

“They should just give in already and have sex, everyone knows they have a thing for each other.” Arthur whispered into your ear, sending a tingle down your spine, his breath was hot against your skin and you hummed in agreement, trying to ignore his hand slipping off your hip and down to your thigh.

By the time you had turned your focus back to Karen, she had already spun it, and it had already slowed down. Dutch, Sean, John… Javier… Arthur… You. Fuck.

Karen slowly came over to you slowly swinging her hips with a devilish grin plastered on her face. This was certainly not your first time with a woman, but in this environment, it felt like the pressure was on, everyone was watching her intently, some shocked, some intrigued, and probably some horny. She stood over you and Arthur, still smiling. “You don’t mind, do you, Arthur?” She asked merrily.

You expected a similar reaction to what happened with Javier, instead, he chuckled and gestured to go ahead. Karen buzzed cheerfully, lifting her hand to your cheek and leaning down over you, and you craned your neck in response. She was far more gentle with you, her soft lips locking with yours, you smelled her perfume on her body and the booze on her breath.

It felt like she was purposely dragging it out, slowly elevating her moves, her tongue finding yours in a way no man could have. You were scared of pulling away and seeing everyone's faces, you could already hear the increased loudness of whistles and cheers, but all good things must come to an end. She pulled away slowly, saliva still attached to your lower lip.

“Oh my…” Arthur vocalised, watching the flush on your cheeks spread. You swear you heard him groan as he tilted his head back to stretch his neck. Karen winked at you, giving you a small and quick thumbs up when he wasn’t looking before returning to her seat across the fire.

The eyes of all of the camp members burned into you as you stood up from Arthur's lap and swiftly approached the bottle, following suit of those before you and giving it a spin. You tried to ignore how they looked at you, Javier eyed you down like he was digesting your body, how a python does to its prey.

If it landed on him, you were fucked.

Round and round it spun, clicking over from one person to the next until it came to a halt. You followed the line from the top of the bottle to… Dutch.

“I think we’ve all had enough for tonight.” Arthur sparked up, switch flipped in his brain. You let out a grateful sigh, thinking you wouldn’t have to go through with it.

“Now, now, rules are rules, spin the bottle, kiss the person.” Dutch chuckled heartily, cocky in his tone. Arthur didn’t say anything after that, just took another drink from his bottle and crossed his arms. Dutch smirked, tilting his head up to make eye contact with you. “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite… Usually.”

His hand patted his thigh and you awkwardly walked over, now standing in front of him. “Not sitting? Alright.” He sighed, pushing himself up from his seat and adjusting his vest. His figure loomed over you, charismatic energy pouring over you thick and sweet and he reached for your waist, pulling your body flat against his.

He arched his body over yours as he leaned in, side-glancing Arthur with a leer before pressing his lips to yours, it was painfully tender, in a way that could make a woman melt, you couldn’t resist the intoxication of his tongue and he slipped his other hand up your neck and into your hair, gripping at the base and bending your head back further so he could shove his face into your neck, moustache grazing your ticklish skin.

It wasn’t long before he tried to push it too far, trying to slip his hand down your back, and immediately the mood shifted, you suddenly tensed up, unable to move. He kept going, nibbling at your skin and almost copping a feel, you felt stuck in your mind, you didn’t want this to go on.

“That’s… uh…” You choked out, bordering a whimper, “Enough.” It strained you to get those words out, but you did, and he stopped. A weight lifted from your chest, now sober and alert. You looked around, Abigail looked at you with concern and Karen looked at Dutch in disgust.

You cleared your throat, readjusting your dress and sighed ever so slightly. “Excuse me, I’m a little tired, good night everyone.” You spat out quickly, before rushing off back to your tent.

✩★✩

“What was that? Are you serious?” You exclaimed, standing up from your seat, the alcohol had hit your system like a truck but you could still tell that whatever just happened wasn’t right. It was like he was purposefully trying t get a rise out of you.

“Just some harmless fun, Arthur. She’s just your friend after all.” Dutch laughed.

Bastard.

“You’ve probably just scared her half to death. What the hell is wrong wit’ you?!” You huffed, getting increasingly irritated.

“If it did, I will apologise tomorrow morning, she said she was tired, wouldn’t want to disturb her now.” He held the same smugness as always, it irked you sometimes but that's just the way it had been forever.

“Whatever.” Now was not the time to be arguing, everyone was drunk and if you had it your way Dutch would be going to bed with two black eyes. You looked around at everyone, said good night and left the main fire, you didn’t want to deal with that asshole anymore tonight.

As soon as you left you heard it all resume, and you pushed it out of your mind and went to go lay down and forget.

——————————

But you couldn’t. Usually, alcohol knocks you out but everything replayed in your mind and you couldn’t stop thinking about her. Hours had passed and you had gone through every memory from start to finish, twice.

Dutch took advantage of her, you didn’t care that the stupid bottle landed on him, or that she kissed him. Maybe slightly. But he took it too far, and you had noticed her rigidness as she walked away earlier, it was like watching a dying person stop breathing. Cold. Unsettling. You wanted to go after her, apologise, make sure she was okay.

You didn’t. Fucking idiot.

All your actions crashed and clashed in your head like waves falling in on themselves, you thought of her, you thought of Mary, everything you had done wrong there and everything you could do right here. 

The guilt ate at your soul every single day of how things ended with Mary, you missed her for a long time and you still yearned for that type of connection again. You grumbled, not wanting to make the same mistake again and pushed yourself upright and out of bed.

Step after step, you found yourself making your way to her tent, palms sweaty and heart racing. Just do it, Arthur.

The fire had fizzled out into crackling embers, providing little light as you trudged across camp in the cold of night. The alcohol had worn off mostly by now so you quickened your pace to get out of chilling air and back into some kind of warmth.

Odd sounds came from her tent as you approached it like she was in pain or something. Swiftly, you pulled the tent flap aside to find her thrashing in her cot, mumbling incoherent words and kicking at her blanket.

✩★✩

Hands. Grabbing. Pulling. Ripping at your skin. Tearing, bleeding you dry. You scream, still. Unable to move, just speak. Still.

Stop doesn’t do anything, nothing does anything, they continue to rip your flesh from your body. His face. His face distorting uncannily, he got closer.

Closer. 

Blank.

You awoke with a gasp and immediate burning in your nostrils as you began to sob. It took you a few seconds of holding your eyes shut, trying to force the memories from your head to realise the shuffling outside of your tent. 

Suddenly the tears came to an abrupt end as they continued, you heard someone muttering to themselves. Unable to make out who it was, you sniffled before speaking. “Hello…?” Your voice was weak, you thought maybe they didn’t hear.

A familiar face slowly pulled back the drapery, poking his head into your tent.

“Arthur…” A sigh escaped your lips and you chucked to yourself a little, relieved.

He stared at you as you sat up, and carefully entered your room, “I just came to check if yer’ okay.” He mumbled, standing awkwardly in the middle of your tent, taking in your decor and items that splayed across your nightstand. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’m okay Arthur, I promise. Have you slept?” You sniffled again, wiping your eyes as you checked the time—2:14 am.

“...No, I- I couldn’t stop thinkin’. But seriously, you seem upset. Are you sure yer’ okay?” He pressed, wanting some kind of answer. You were unsure how far he’d push, but you debated sharing the truth with him tonight. Only if he asked.

“Kind of, everything is just a lot at the moment, earlier didn’t help.” Your confession breathed life into the air, and Arthur pulled up your little stool to sit by your bedside. He reached for your hand which you gently took, and rubbed circles with his thumb on your skin. “I’m sorry for what happened, Dutch gets too carried away with trying to show off that he makes people uncomfortable.” He spoke quickly like he was rushing to get it out.

“It’s okay, it was just a game, I won’t participate next time.” You shrugged, accepting that some parts of this life you desperately wanted to fit into just didn’t fit right with you. And that was okay.

“It’s not. I brought you here for a reason. Let me make it up to you.” A pained look adorned his face, azure-stained iris’s longing for acceptance, a chance. “Please.”

You nodded, watching his face light up as you agreed. The soft light of your lantern brushed his face with golden strokes, capturing his beauty like an elemental artist. His lips curved into a smile as you two held each other in a never-ending gaze.

A question germinated in his eyes before he opened his mouth.

“What made you so upset?”

You swallowed, hard, looking away to the flame dancing in the lantern.

“Don’t worry.” It stung, knowing what was to come. He said your name with the same pain and disappointment that you became so familiar with whilst talking to yourself.

“Please, maybe it’ll help, is it me? I’m sorry for being so distant it’s nothin’ to do with you I swe-” He rambled, hand gripping yours tighter as he brought it to his forehead.

“It’s not that, please, Arthur. I’m okay. Earlier, Javier and Dutch just dug up some memories unintentionally, I just need to give it time and I’ll be fine.” His face dropped as you spoke, putting together the pieces in his mind.

“I- I don’t understand, I can make em’ apologise if you want. Anything.” He sighed, clutching at ideas to offer.

“I’ve had issues with men going too far before, it’s nothing new.” A brief chuckle escaped your lips as you looked down, making light of your trauma to avoid crying about it. It wasn’t a new technique but it always helped. Arthur removed your hand from his forehead, using his other hand to clasp around it, you barely noticed, until he softly whispered your name.

You looked up to see a soul-broken man before you, eyes wide, whites glistening. He put it together.

“I’m-” He paused, unable to speak for a moment. “I’m so, so sorry.” Instinctively he let go of your hand and backed up slightly. “Please tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.” You laughed a little, shaking your head, grabbing for his hand again. Talking about it always made you uncomfortable, not because you had an issue sharing, but because it seemed silly to you, it happened so long ago.

“I’m okay, Arthur. Just, I don’t want to talk about it.” He nodded in response, standing up from the stool.

“I’ll leave you be, if you need me, you know where my tent is, get some rest.” He stood over your bed for a brief second before turning around and approaching the opening of your tent. You didn’t want him to leave, If he did, the warmth that cozied in your room would leave with it.

“Arthur.” There was a delicacy in the way you said his name, you saw the way he looked at you when you said it like that. He turned his shoulder to look back at you. 

“Yeah? Anything else I can do for you, Miss?” His tone was saddened but hopeful, you didn’t think he wanted to leave either.

“Stay.”

“Okay.”

His agreeance was quick, and he moved slowly to the floor next to your bed, giving you a tender-hearted smile.

“What are you doing? Get up here, I’m not making you sleep on the ground again.”

“Oh.” He seemed cautious as he took his boots off and sat down on the bed by the end of your legs, you shuffled over to make space for him, which he slotted into after a few moments.

Stiff as a board, he laid behind you, keeping whatever space between you open, scared to touch you. You shuffled back into him, turning your head to give him a wide smile, grabbing his arm to cuddle onto. 

He eased up, making himself comfortable behind you, the warmth of his chest radiating over your back, the autumn cold not being a match for his heating abilities. His head laid above yours, chin gently resting upon the crown and his legs bent into yours, like you were two pieces of a puzzle. Connected, at last.

“Good night.” It was merely a whisper, but he heard you.

✩★✩

Her chest rose and fell as you embraced her, silently. She had fallen asleep mere minutes after you started cuddling and you hoped her sleep would be a little more peaceful now.

Your mind was still running at a million miles, it didn’t take a genius to know what she meant and it made you sick to your stomach, that someone could do that, let alone to her. You’d find the man and shoot him dead if you could. But you couldn’t.

What mattered was right in front of you, in your arms sleeping soundly.

She looked so beautiful, you felt like a guard of precious art, the way you held her like this. It was more than friendship, way more. You closed your eyes, squeezing her slightly, before drifting off to sleep yourself.

[evangelinesbible]

MY STYLE ICONS AS MY PLACEMENTS

TAURUS VENUS/TAURUS MC/ VIRGO RISING

CHER/ DIONE “CLUELESS”

FRAN FINE “THE NANNY”

All three of these ladies are known for their impeccable style. Cher being more innocent and wearing more modest clothes, Dione being a little less innocent and wearing more bold styles and Fran being the queen of wearing more grown and flashy clothing but still making them appear classy. All three I like to embrace. Their outfits never look uncomfortable or something they force themselves to wear for the sake of beauty, they know what accentuates them well and they wear accordantly. Their outfits are planned out and are usually matchy. Even their more laid back styles are still feminine and fashionable. All three are also known for wearing either, blouses, pencil skirts, pleated skirts collard shirts, tights/high knee socks, layers, matching sets, vest, pumps, and monochrome outfits.

VIRGO RISING/ VIRGO JUPITER 1H

CLEO DE NILE “MONSTER HIGH”

She rules her school for a reason. Cleo is known for wearing mostly gold and teal (and I’ve never met a Virgo placement that doesn’t look good in gold) she expects perfection in everything she wears because she cares deeply about how she looks. I mean she is a royal and just like Leo placements Virgo placements also carry very regal qualities to them. Out of all the monster high girlies I always gravitated more to her because of her style and for the fact that I love gold. I think I only own one pair of silver earrings. Shoot even my prom dress was gold. When I feel like embracing Cleo I’ll try to wear gold jewelry, wear purple eyeshadow (which is also a regal color and a color I associate with Virgo), teal and black pieces, form fitting outfits, platform wedges asymmetrical/subversive clothes and big earrings that makes me stand out

SAGITTARIUS MOON/ 10H LILITH

AALIYAH AKA “PRINCESS OF RNB”

MICHIKO “ FINDING PARASIDO”

(Fun fact Michikos character design is based off of Aaliyah)

The free spirited women in my life. Their style is everything to me and lately the style I’ve been rocking (but that’s mostly because of work lol) Aaliyah was mostly known as a tomboy unlike Michiko who wore more skimpy/edgier outfits. But both are incredibly sexy in either styles. Sagittarius moons tend to be very free spirited and Aaliyahs personal style was very much that. 10H Lilith’s tend to be very villainized, for appearing sexy or embracing their sexuality and just like Michiko they DGAF! She will wear anything she wants and not apologize for it. Both women were naturally confident in their style. Baggy jeans, fitted cropped tops, bandanas, low cut/ strapless tops, vintage shades, varsity/leather/jean jackets, smokey makeup, oversized overalls, jumpsuits, and boots are what they both kill at and what I kill at as well ;)

Who’s your style icon? 💋

-⚜️💫⚜️

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 16, 17 avril 1898, Paris. Toilette de voyage pour dame d'âge moyen. Toilette d'excursion pour jeune femme. Modèles de Mmes Coussinet-Piret, rue Richer, 43. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Description des toilettes de la gravure coloriée:

Toilette de voyage pour dame d'âge moyen. — Robe en cover-coat gris de fer; jupe unie, taillée en forme; jaquette de même tissu, doublée en soie, garnie de boutons et de bouton nières, pouvant la fermer à volonté; le dessin représente cette jaquette ouverte sur une chemisette de piqué jaune-maïs, pointillé de rouge; le col replié et les revers de la jaquette sont recouverts de même piqué, fixé à points longs, ou si on le préfère boutonnés, de façon à pouvoir être aisément nettoyés. La chemisette coupée d'après la fig. 69 à 76, verso, de la planche de patrons, est ornée de plis et d'un nœud de cravate de même étoffe.

Toilette d'excursion pour jeune fille. — Robe en lainage mauve à dessins violets; la jupe est garnie d'un volant qui va s'élargissant derrière, surmonté d'une bande de même étoffe, piquée plusieurs fois; corsage-blouse plissé de chaque côté, garni d'un col droit, plat, sur lequel on pose en ruban violet, un nœud marin, auquel se rattachent deux petits revers en batiste blanche. Les manches ornées de séries de plis, se terminent par une manchette arrondie. Le grand col, fait en léger drap mauve, est bordé de soutache violette, a derrière la forme carrée d'un col marin, et se prolonge devant jusqu'au delà de la ceinture, faite en cuir violet retenu par une boucle d'argent. Ce grand col est garni de boutons et de boutonnières simulées; chapeau en paille violette orné de rubans et de plumes mauves

—

Middle-aged lady's travel ensemble. — Dress in iron-grey cover-coat; plain skirt, cut in shape; jacket of the same fabric, lined in silk, trimmed with buttons and buttonholes, which can be closed at will; the design represents this jacket open on a maize-yellow piqué shirt, dotted with red; the folded collar and the lapels of the jacket are covered with the same quilting, fastened with long stitches, or if preferred buttoned, so as to be easily cleaned. The shirt cut according to fig. 69 to 76, verso, of the pattern sheet, is decorated with pleats and a tie knot of the same fabric.

Young woman's excursion ensemble. — Mauve woolen dress with violet designs; the skirt is trimmed with a flounce which widens behind, surmounted by a band of the same fabric, stitched several times; bodice-blouse pleated on each side, trimmed with a straight, flat collar, on which a sailor's knot is placed in purple ribbon, to which are attached two small lapels in white cambric. The sleeves adorned with a series of pleats end with a rounded cuff. The large collar, made of light purple cloth, is edged with purple soutache, has the square shape of a sailor collar behind, and extends in front to beyond the belt, made of purple leather held in place by a silver buckle. . This large collar is trimmed with mock buttons and buttonholes; purple straw hat decorated with purple ribbons and feathers

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2025 #6: In which Donna gives Cameron a gift that turns out to be affirming

[CN: mention of mealtime/brunch] .

Unable to resist the temptation, Donna had gotten a pair of white boxer shorts with little red hearts on them for Cameron for their first Valentine’s Day together. Cameron’s eyes had gone wide, and her face had turned red when she pulled them out of their black gift bag and red tissue paper. “Oh, come on,” Donna had rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen your underwear, it’s not a big deal. And, you needed them! All the underwear you have is falling apart.”

A few weeks later, Cameron emerged from the shower to find that her underwear drawer was empty except for the boxers, folded up in their corner. With no time to do laundry (they were due to meet Bos for brunch), Cameron sighed, grabbed the shorts, and pulled them on under her robe. She grabbed a bra from that drawer, and shrugged off her robe and hung it on its hook, but before she could put her bra on, she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror.

The shorts weren’t actually that short, and they weren’t clingy or low-waisted or made from satin, a fabric that made Cameron’s skin crawl. They were loose, and long, and had what Cameron would later learn is called an ‘open fly’ design, and they looked like actual boxer shorts. Cameron gazed at herself in the mirror, as if she’d never seen herself in her underwear before.

Donna appeared in the doorway of the walk-in closet, and grinned at Cameron. Before she could say anything, Cameron asked, “Where did you get these?”

“Department store. Men’s section,” Donna replied. She went to her vanity, and grabbed her watch and slipped it onto her wrist. Then she asked, “Why, is something wrong?”

Cameron turned, looked at her side profile, and then turned to face front again. “No,” she answered pensively. “I was just wondering.”

Donna went into the walk-in closet that evening, after a happily long Saturday afternoon of visiting with friends and relaxing with Cameron, ready to change into her favorite sweatpants. She found Cameron there, in her t-shirt and the heart print boxer shorts, looking at herself in the mirror again. When Donna said, “Hey,” Cameron jumped slightly.

Donna was about to apologize for interrupting, having gotten the sense that she was, in fact, interrupting something. Cameron looked a little flustered though, so instead, Donna gently teased her: “Ah ha. So, you like the embarrassing novelty boxer shorts your live-in lady friend got for you.”

Cameron frowned, still studying herself in the mirror. She looked at Donna, uncertain, and asked, “Do you like them? Do they look right?”

Donna finally went into the closet, and after lightly squeezing Cameron’s arm as she walked past her, she said, “I think they look great. But, then, I might be a little biased.”

Donna began to undress, starting with the buttons on cuffs of her blouse. She looked at Cameron again, furtively, waiting for her to speak again.

As she reached for a pair of flannel pajama pants, Cameron asked, “Would you mind if I started wearing, uh, men’s underwear? Like regularly?”

Undoing the buckle of her belt, Donna said, “Would I mind? Why would I mind? So long as they’re not used….” Cameron didn’t respond, so Donna added, “That was clearly a joke.”

As she stepped out of her slacks, Donna watched Cameron pull on her pajama pants, and then turn to the dresser, pull open a drawer, and lift out her favorite sweatshirt. She turned to Donna again, and said, “You’d really be okay with it?”

Shirt half-unbuttoned, Donna went to Cameron, and kissed her on the cheek. “Yes, I’d really be okay with it.”

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 629, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character, injured baby, kidnapped child

WORDS: 1069

I giggled as Elizabeth modeled her pirate costume- she and Katie would next be doing a Pirates of the Caribbean medley for her successful YouTube channel, shooting some footage on the Lady Sand Wind ship that would be moored in the harbor next week.

The captain had reached out to Elizabeth, his daughters being huge fans of her YouTube channel. In response to all of this, I had reached out the Mad Hattery Company from faire, and the owner had showed up at the house with a bunch of hats for the girls to try on. Elizabeth had fallen in love with a pretty rose red tricorn hat and had requested a heavy plumage of royal purple feathers while Katie had picked out a dark brown-black head covering that had pirate inspired designs etched into the leather. Elizabeth had asked the man if she could list his creations in the credits, to which her request was approved.

“Elizabeth, are you going to make a protective head covering to protect the skin on your head from your new hat?” I asked her as she was trying everything on to get an idea of what she would look like.

“That’s on the agenda!” she reassured me. “Hey mommy, can Katie and I have swords?”

“They don’t need to be sharp or fancy or anything!” Katie chimed in, twirling around my study. She would be wearing torn brown capris, a loose fitting white blouse, a bright red vest, her hat and bare feet. “They just need to look aesthetically pleasing!”

“Let me look on Amazon and see what all they have, alright?” I hummed as I worked on making the babies some new garb for faire. A massive growth spurt had hit the tiny little humans, and at this point, we were making new clothes for them every other week. The three of us womenfolk didn’t mind either way because we all quite enjoyed sitting down and sewing and knitting and crocheting and embroidering. “Ah, found some! Come on over and tell me which ones you like!”

After I had purchased swords for them, both of the little Ratajczyk pirates both went tearing off to show me their attire, giggling happily all the while. I knew where my handsome silver daddy was- in our bedroom, giving Isabelle a good dicking. The babies were all having a nap in their respected bedrooms, and I could feel Peter grunting and panting through our soulmate bond.

I folded the armful of baby clothes over an arm before I left my office, going up to swap out the new clothes with the outgrown shirts and overalls and pants tucked away in drawers.

I could be found humming a sweet song under my breath as I left little girl’s big girl bedroom, where all the tiny little babies were sprawled out across her pink fluffy shag rug, dreaming sweet little baby dreams as they peacefully napped.

I next passed by Elizabeth’s bedroom, where I overheard both she and Katie running through their Pirates of the Caribbean medley, with Elizabeth playing her mother’s harp and Katie on her kantele. I paused for a brief moment before heading upstairs to the master bedroom, where I found Peter lazily eating out the family nanny.

“Hihi, Izzy bear, hihi my love,” I greeted the two fucking bunnies as I shut the door behind me and removing my loose fitting crop top to reveal sexy black lace. I swayed my hips as I sauntered my way across the room to crawl up onto the bed and tackle Isabelle in a searing kiss. “You alright?”

“I’m on my period, and I’m super horny right now,” she confessed, her eyeballs rolling backwards into her skull as her orgasm washed over her sweat coated body. She collapsed into my arms, moaning and twitching lightly as I settled her down onto my side of the bed.

“Come to me now, my sexy woman,” Peter snarled just then, seizing me around my hips and the tossing me onto his burly chest. “I demand to eat your pussy.”

“After I’m done with my daddy’s dick,” I bartered evenly, my fingers nimbly undoing the button and zipper that was located at the front of his jeans, my touch as soft as a whispered lullaby as I brought out his erect cock. “Release the kraken!” I cackled before inhaling him fully down my throat.

“JESUS FUCK-” he hissed, throwing his head backward with a near silent howl as I began to slide my nose up and down his manly girth. His hand gathered my loose flowing curls and used them to guide me, his grunts and gasps only egging me onward all the more.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck…” gasped Peter before going stiff all of a sudden. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK…”

I gasped as warmth flooded down my throat and into my belly, where I eased him out of me and stood up, bending to kick off my jeans before pouncing on top of him with a needy whine.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c0la

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[simplysedusa]

How I imagine the Powerpuff Girls would dress

(credit to Pinterest for all the pictures)

Blossom Utonium

Blossom would be the kind of young lady who would have outfits for almost any occasion and sort them as such in her side of the closet and in her dressers (aside from maybe clubbing/partying). Clothes for interviews/press conferences tend to be a bit on the preppier side and a bit more modest (collared blouses with a monotone/neutral jumper, turtle necks, longer skirts, hair tied back with a pretty red or pink ribbon, ballet flats). Clothes she wears for casual wear would be a bit more colorful and fun (color striped skirt that may stop above the knee, jean jackets, high waisted jeans and shorts, more colorful sweaters, sneakers, doc martens, and knee/thigh/shin high boots). Longer skirts are ideal because they're easier to slip into in case of an emergency and she doesn't have to worry about being indecent while she's kicking ass and taking names. For my Pinterest board and this collage, I took inspiration from characters such as Betty Cooper from Riverdale, Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things, Abbi Singh from The Imperfects, and Lara Jean from To All The Boys I Loved Before with a dash of real life fashion icon Audrey Hepburn, who I could see being a huge role model for Blossom. Her clothes would be more toward the pale, subdued, pastel side in terms of coloring. She'd love floral prints ironically because of her name, but also unironically because she thinks they're pretty. If she does wear designs other than floral, they're simple stripes, or polka dots, or plaid. Favorite colors to wear other than pink would be red, orange, gray, black, white, and like a creamy off-white. I also weirdly low-key headcanon Blossom being the sister to accidentally steal her sisters' clothes because she's in a rush to get ready and grabs the first thing that looks like hers and tries to gaslight them into thinking they're hers once she realizes the mistake ("It's pink, Bubbles, of course it's mine", "Why would I wear your stupid collared shirts, Buttercup?").

Bubbles Utonium

Bubbles is a girl who LOVES clothes and fashion (she is the artsy one after all). Her style is fun, cute, youthful, flirty, childlike (affectionate), usually vibrant and eyesore causing catching. She'd definitely buy and wear something that's baby pink, baby blue, AND lime green all at the same time because it reminds her of the bond between her and her sisters or something. She loves oversized cardigans and jackets, especially if they're fuzzy, furry, and/or soft (but NO REAL FUR). One of Bubbles' favorite outerwear is a baby blue winter coat with hearts on the back that reminds her of the Powerpuff Signal that Townsville occasionally uses. She loves to make STATEMENTS with her outfits, causing quite a few of her peers/classmates/coworkers to (make fun of her behind her back) think she's immature and childish. The designs on her clothes are almost always over the top and never subtle (rainbow polka dotted crop top, dresses covered with faces of cats or butterflies, etc.). If Bubbles is under the weather or down in the dumps, her clothes are much more plain OR she goes out of her way to wear something with those corny "it'll get better" empowerment sayings on it. She also isn't above wearing any of the clothing merch since she knows it's going to a good cause. Bubbles loves all colors of the rainbow so long as they're bright; Blossom and Buttercup joke that she might have more pink and green clothes than they do. She has no qualms wearing outfits that remind her of her favorite video games, cartoons, or movies. Luckily for her, Professor Utonium invented a spray that keeps blood and other monster bodily fluids off of the clothes so they don't stain, that way Bubbles' clothes can stay pretty and clean, just how she likes it. Just like her clothes, Bubbles also has a variety of shoes from Mary Jane shoes similar to the ones she used to wear as a little girl, to sneakers, to sandals, to heels she managed to get at a discount, and anything in-between (she definitely wears those furry monster feet slippers out in public too if she felt it complimented her outfit). Her favorite pair are all white converses because "they go with everything". She'd also add matching little clips or flowers in her pigtails, space buns, or whatever other style Bubbles chooses to wear her hair.

Buttercup Utonium

Buttercup's style is either sporty, athletic, and a bit preppy (she loves most of the athletic sport brands such as Nikes or Adidas) or 90's grunge casual. She low-key shows the most skin between her and her sisters with all of the crop tops, ripped jeans (with fishnet stockings underneath) and shorts, and other mesh and transparent tops she has (a girl's gotta show off her toned muscle somehow, she's too proud of it). If she isn't getting dress-coded for that, she's getting dress-coded for the sayings on her shirt that might read "fuck off", "what you can do, I can do bleeding", "free the nipple", or other rather crass remarks that the school might deem "offensive". Buttercup might occasionally dawn a skirt (preferably a not too short jean or even leather one) or dress (usually a T-shirt dress, maxi, or boho, anything fancier than that she lets Blossom and Bubbles pick one out for her) if she felt like it, but only if she's 100% sure she'll look hot in it and she's comfortable. Oversized plaid, collared shirts over grunge, rock band shirts and shorts (with a beanie if it's cold enough) are her bread and butter go-to. Other articles of clothing like leather jackets, tube tops, or her designer variety letterman jackets are saved for her nights out on the town, living up to her fulfilled prophecy from Boogie Frights. Color wise, Buttercup tends to stick to earthier, darker tones than her sisters, but she does own quite a few vibrant colored clothing items such as lime green, orange, purple, and even yellow (even though I didn't feature those, sssh lmao). Buttercup was really into camo when she was younger, but after realizing most of her outfits consisted of "black and/or khaki with camo", she realized she needed to step her game up, so she tries not to wear it as much anymore. Buttercup is also the most obsessed with shoes out of all the Powerpuff Girls. She's a HUGE sneakerhead and she's not modest about it (nothing pisses her off more than stepping on chewed gum, she too is thankful for Professor's new invention). Buttercup's also the only sister who really loves jewelry and accessories, especially chains.

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 39 - indoors fashion in 1922

I wanted to give this to Mary alone since I cannot fit her and Edith’s images into one post anymore, but no, I had to put Miss Bunting somewhere. So let’s have a quick look at middle class day wear.

Miss Bunting generally seems to prefer pastel greens and blues this season; there will be a bit of a shift when she comes back in season 5 and her character goes down the drain. Here, she wears a nice green checker with a collar that’s not dramatic enough to call it a sailor collar although it’s playing at the shape. The lower sleeves seem to have a lot more volume than the upper sleeves do, which seems a little impractical for a teacher, but perhaps she rolls them up in the classroom when she’s handling chalk and so on. Honestly, I think I haven't seen sleeves that were poofy at the bottom but not at the top since the 1830s.

--------------

Mary, don’t look so pissy; I just quickly wanna gush about one of my favorites. This deep plum velvet is a dream, and the lower sleeves being buttoned up allows them to sit quite snugly whereas the upper sleeves look a little wavy, indicating they have more volume. Drop waist, knotted overlong necklace – that much is par for the course. But there’s this darling draping on the front of her wrap skirt, more enhanced by the lining showing some contrast. It looks so nice.

Even after she’s officially out of mourning, Mary’s wardrobe is dominated by dark, muted colors for quite a while. A pairing she seems to like is black with a beige shade, as she does in this dress. It’s not the worst in terms of 1920s sack styles, the fabric being lightweight enough that it drapes a little around her, and I like the trim applications.

Another beige-and-black one, but this is, uh. A rectangle. Why does this shirt have zero fluidity? The print is cute, and the ribbon trim framing the sleeves and the wide neckline makes me think this a descendant of the art deco blouses of the 19-teens that the younger ladies of the family wore a lot, but somehow, I don’t know if the style fits Mary. I guess it makes her look a little softer, a little more on the maternal side, but Mary is far from the maternal type, and yes, I’m saying this under a photo of her with her baby on her lap. She all but ignored the kid for the first several months of his life because one, she was depressed as all fuck, and two, she can afford it. The hat she wears to it in season 5 makes the overall impression of the outfit better imo.

Ugh. This also picks up a design worn before in a beige chiffon blouse with pretty much the exact same yoke with squiggly lines and a little extra in the middle (although this specimen here repeats the design on the drop-waistband), but this must be the ugliest version of this. I just don’t warm up to the dusty Crawley purple, appropriate half-mourning color though it may be, or stiff rectangles for that matter. The latter notion is made even stronger by the completely straight-running pin tucks down the front. The sleeves are drapey chiffon and I like them a great deal more.

Way nicer purple, going more in the direction of plum, and this shirt doesn’t have quite the same stiff look to it. The shorter sleeves make this look a little less stern, and the yoke design is lovely, crocheted I would think.

And yet more purple! This is a bit more on the dusty side of the spectrum because Mary is a Proper Lady wearing her half-mourning, but the dress has a lot more movement to it, the silk satin waving in every direction, so I’m lenient. The tie collar is back and gets a little silver brooch with a gem tacked to it.

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Funniest thought:

- Noctis’ wardrobe must look wild, at least if someone were to look in on his apartment.

- One one hand, you have the Crown Prince of Lucis’ clothing. Tailored suits and shirts and trousers, all of high quality cottons and linens and wools and silks and every other fabric under the sun (and/or skirts and dresses)

- Probably fancy dressing gowns and robes for baths/showers, more traditional robes and ‘older’ clothing choices, too.

- Most would still be at the citadel, but in case he has to dress and run for sudden meetings/emergencies, I can see Ignis (and his father. And the council, they would have to debate because it was a matter of security for the Crown Prince / Crown Princess) insisting he takes a wardrobe befitting of his status with him before trying to blend in (as much as is possible) with the citizenry of Insomnia.

- and then you have Noctis’ personal clothing.

- Fishing jackets, baseball caps, carbuncle onesies, and various pajama sets with cartoon-like wild animals or game related imagery printed on them (courtesy of Prompto).

- sweatpants, all of the sweatpants. Or dresses. Simple ones, not fancy or costly ones, kind of flowy like old clothing. Both are nice to just slide on when you’re having a rough day.

Kind of Sad Headcanon:

- This is more for Nocturne (Fem! Noct) but literally works the exact same for Noctis. There’s a reason her wardrobe is segregated between Crown Princess/Citadel and Nocturne.

- For all that her bedroom, study, are called the Princess’ private rooms at the citadel - they aren’t really that private.

- Whenever she’s at the citadel, maids attend to cleaning her room, rather than Ignis - Ignis, who she trusts implicitly not to spread rumors vs Maids that would, unintentionally or intentionally.

- depending exactly on how Lucian upper society works, she might even have ladies-in-waiting outside of the retinue (unless of course, that was originally the function of a Lucian Princess’s retinue…)

- Clothing she chose to wear, how clean and neat her room was, it would be scrutinized and spoken about at least once among the staff, and then somehow that would trickle on up to the nobles and the councils, and then that could lead to rumors of how the Crown Prince or Princess was slovenly, was lazy-

- Which in turn could spiral into worse rumors and gossip, lessening support and respect, for the future Queen (or King) among the noble class, and if it was sold to the press-

- When you’re royalty, everything about you is at risk of being tied to politics. A dirty room for a normal teenager would probably merit a scolding. A dirty room for the Crown Princess? Scandal.

- So at the Citadel, Nocturne’s clothing isn’t…it isn’t just hers. She still likes some of the dresses, the blouses and skirts and occasional set of pants - she was given the option of selecting the cut and style of them, after all.

- But there’s pressure on her that comes from picking out the right clothes to wear, the design, the cost - all because of the effect. There’s pressure on her to keep her room neat and clean, so much so that it’s hard to imagine she lives there - though sometimes she does slip (not to the extent she would at her apartment, at her home away from home that felt safer to just- )

- As a young child, it wasn’t so bad. People would often send her cute cartoon print pajamas as gifts, shirts with funny mottos, wildly patterned things that other kids her age seemed to like. There wasn’t much pressure, though she was still expected to be dressed ‘according to her station’.

- as she got older though, she was expected to grow out of it. Clothes she outgrew were often donated, put into the storage, etc. they were replaced with more ‘mature’ dressing gowns, and so on.

- When she moved out of the citadel for high school (fifteen to sixteen), a lot of that pressure was lifted off of her shoulders. Though, it took a few months for her to really just…relax in her own home-away-from-home.

- She didn’t have a lot of clothes, courtesy of every thing stated above. There were her uniforms for school, clearly upper class but trendy “common” clothing - but nothing silly, nothing ‘immature’ as the upper class would put it.

- Until Prompto got her a gift on her birthday, a cat onesies (because you’re always Noct out, having a cat nap). It was silly, and it was soft and warm - and Nocturne could wear it around her apartment without being scrutinized.

- It was nice. Overtime, on top of her more fancy clothes, she picks up…normal ones. As gifts, or going out shopping herself (or as much by herself as could be, she was probably being tailed by the crownsguard anyway).

- Nocturne always defaults to her ‘Princess’ clothes, though. Even in her apartment, before remembering ‘oh, I can wear this. No one will freak out over it’.