#this pin is from i think the late 40s/early 50s?

[dark-fics-4-you]

Thinking about an younger reader calling Dark!Dilf Rafe old and that’s he needs some viagra 😭LOL

Imagining his reaction 🤬

Softcore

Dark!Dad’sBestFriend/DILF!Rafe x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), ignoring safe words, smut, large age gap (20-30 years), spanking, choking, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, breeding kink, degradation, secret relationship, manipulation, daddy kink, Rafe uses ‘kid’ to refer to reader a couple times, Rafe wants to get reader pregnant against her will

A/N: In my mind Rafe is in his late 40s/early 50s in this and Reader is 19/early-mid 20s

⚠️CHECK ALL CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE READING‼️⚠️

“Y’know, maybe I didn’t hear you correctly kid, would you mind repeating yourself?”

You could tell by the edge in his voice that you had succeeded in getting a reaction out of him, but the way his blue eyes darkened as he glared at you led you to swallow down your cockiness.

Your boyfriend’s tall frame crowded your vision as he approached the bed you were lounging on as he removed his boxers.

Glancing away didn’t help, as the older man’s large hand came to your chin, redirecting your attention back up to him as he towered above you. Still you found your eyes fixed on the spots where his dark blond hair had begun turning silver.

“What did you just say to me, Y/N?” He spoke slowly, as if you were child who was acting up.

Despite knowing that this was his way of giving you a chance to retract what you had just said, you huffed in annoyance, rolling your eyes at the man who was older than your own father, before repeating yourself with a small laugh, “I said, I’m getting you viagra for your birthday since you’re getting so old.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened in frustration, eyebrows furrowing together before suddenly moving the hand on your cheek to your throat, applying a light pressure that had your eyes widening in surprise.

“You think this is fucking funny?” Rafe growled before pinning you to the bed you were sitting on by your throat.

The back of your head hit the soft mattress, the force at which Rafe had grabbed you made your pink lingerie slip ride up, exposing your matching panties underneath and some of the soft skin of your tummy. He licked his lips as he watched your nipples harden beneath the thin material.

“Rafe-” you eeked in surprise, your hand reaching up to grab the one at your throat.

“Still think this is a joke?”

It took almost no effort for him to grab you again, climbing onto the bed as he manhandled you into laying across his lap face down.

“Rafe! Stop it! I’m sorry, okay?!” Your desperate pleas for him to release you went unfulfilled, and as you thrashed on his lap, trying to break free, you already knew what was coming next in return for your careless joke, and you couldn’t tell if the pit in your stomach came from excitement or fear.

“Nah, I don’t think I am gonna stop,” goosebumps erupted across your skin when you felt him pull the material of your slip up your back, exposing your round ass to him.

You shivered when he placed his hand flat on your ass, rubbing your skin and lightly groping the fat of your butt.

The blond drew his hand back and your tensed in anticipation before he spanked you hard. The extra sting from his rings made you whine and you bit your lip to keep from crying out.

“What do you say?” His expectant voice reminded you of your rules.

“… thank you, daddy,” you reluctantly forced through gritted teeth.

This second strike was harder this time, on the same place he had hit you last and you cried out louder this time.

“Mm- thank you, daddy. I’m sorry,” you added at the end, stupidly hoping that niceties could get your through this punishment faster.

He spanked you again, this time smacking the untouched cheek, and you moaned at the sharp pain.

“Y’really think sucking up to me now is gonna help you out, sweetheart?” He said mockingly, as if he was reading your mind.

You were slower to answer him, his words taking longer to register as your body tried to numb the pain.

“N-no. And thank you, daddy.” You didn’t want to forget to thank him again, he only ever gave you one warning.

Rafe was clearly enjoying toying with you, you could feel his stiff cock poking against your thigh, further proof no viagra was needed.

After 4 more spanks, your eyes were leaking tears, lip wobbling as you mumbled out appreciations each time he struck your now bright red ass.

“Rafe! Please, I said I’m sorry, okay?! It was-” you hiccuped through tears, “it was just a stupid joke.”

You swore you felt his dick throb against you at the sound of your pleading voice.

He ignored you, however, instead striking your ass three times quickly and rough enough that you almost screamed from the pain and shock.

“Red light! Rafe please,” you sobbed out the safe word that you and Rafe always used, but the sound of him chuckling darkly in response made your blood run cold.

Pain bloomed across your already sore ass again and you whimpered. You were crying heavily now, and you brought your own hand to your mouth to muffle your weeping when he spanked you again.

“Have you learned your fucking lesson?” His stern voice came from above and you nodded immediately.

“Yes daddy, please! I’m so sorry.” You cried desperately.

You winced when you sensed his hand nearing you again, but this time, his thumb slipped between your legs and traced over your barely clothed slit.

You squirmed in his lap as his lazily thumbed your clit over your panties, whining when he applied pressure.

“You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that, kid? Pretty sick of you to be so goddamn drenched for an ‘old man’ like me.” Rafe mocked you, and to your embarrassment, you could feel yourself growing wetter when he slid your panties to the side and slowly pushed his thick middle finger into your slick cunt.

A whimper escaped your lips when he curled his finger inside you, and your hips twitched as you tried to make more friction between the two of you.

“Shut up,” you moaned before he finally started thrusting the digit into you.

“Please, we both know you get off on the fact that your father has no clue his little princess is sleeping with his best friend.” You didn’t have to see him to know the triumphant, jeering smirk he had playing across his lips.

You also didn’t deny what he said, because you couldn’t. No matter how completely fucked up it was, you did find sneaking behind your parents’ back to see an older man to be thrilling in the sickest way possible.

Not to mention how hard you had came on the several occasions the two of you had gotten close to being discovered (every time, his hand had slapped over your mouth to stifle your moans, but he didn’t stop fucking you until he emptied himself into the condom, no matter how high the risk of being caught).

Part of you suspected he was so careless at times because he wanted the two of you to get caught, a thought that was so unbelievable at first that you completely dismissed it, but when two times became three, and then three times became an almost weekly occurrence, you found it hard to deny that he seemed to enjoy putting you in situations where you could be discovered.

You felt him pull his finger out of you before grabbing your waist and flipping you onto your back onto the bed, and you protested as he climbed over you, caging you beneath him with his big, veiny arms.

“How mad do ya think he’d be if I put a baby in you, huh, Y/N?” Your eyes widened as he looked down at you hungrily.

“Rafe-” you said warily, trying to sit up and get out from under him, but the older man easily grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back on the bed.

“I bet he’d kick you out of the house if you got knocked up.” Despite your kicking, his strong hands grabbed the straps of your panties, ripping them past your legs and tossing them behind him.

“But imagine how disappointed with you he’d be if he knew you let me do it,” Rafe chuckled, and more tears formed at your waterline as his words sunk in.

“Stop it, Rafe. I’m serious, this isn’t funny, it’s sick,” you couldn’t stop your voice from wavering as you looked up at him.

When one of his hands locked tight around your wrist, you whimpered, struggling against him to free yourself.

You froze when you felt the head of his thick cock rubbing against your slit, and Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened as he started to push his tip inside of you.

“Stop fucking moving around, Y/N,” his gruff voice commanded.

Resisting did nothing to help you, and you were almost disgusted by how wet you felt as he forced himself deeper.

Taking all of Rafe’s cock was never a painless process for you, he was so thick it always felt like he was splitting you in half, even more-so now.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he stretched you out slowly. Rafe groaned when his dick nudged your cervix, dropping his head to your neck and trailing sloppy kisses along the tender skin.

You moaned loudly, tensing at first when his lips found your throat, making the older man curse under his breath when you tightened around him.

“Shit, kid. You feel fucking amazing.” His breath tickled at your neck and you squirmed beneath him as you tried to adjust to the pressure between your legs.

Rafe’s free hand came to your throat, squeezing tight as he tilted his hips back and then slammed into you.

You whined, closing your eyes in surprise, pain outweighing the pleasure at first. His fingers twitched around your throat as he felt your walls grow slicker and he was able to fuck you faster.

Delirious waves of ecstasy clouded your mind, his thick cock stretched you out in a way that made your head spin.

Rafe’s grip on your throat tightened and you reached for his wrist, hoping that his hold on you would relent, but the older man just took it as a sign to rut into you harder.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, losing yourself in the rhythm of his pace, greedily grinding your hips to bring yourself closer to the edge.

When his free hand crept between your legs and his thumb began rubbing circles over your clit, you whined, opening your legs for him more so he could fuck you deeper and massage your clit easier.

“Daddy- I’m- fuck-” you mindlessly babbled between moans, already feeling your mind go blank with each snap of his hips.

“Yeah?” He groaned when he felt you pulse around him. “Gonna cum on this dick like daddy’s good girl?”

Alarm bells should have been sounding in your head, but in the moment, you cared too much about chasing pleasure rather than facing consequences to resist.

So you obeyed him.

You whimpered as you came undone, the wave of pleasure washing over you again and again as the blond pushed his cock into you relentlessly. Your body sagged against the bed, head lolling back as you rode out your orgasm.

Rafe could feel your walls pulsing and constricting around him, squeezing his cock so tight it almost hurt him.

He bit back a curse before reaching one of his strong arms behind your back, staying inside you the entire time as he pulled you up off the bed and onto his lap. Your legs fell to the side of his as he rutted into you from below.

The new position had your quaking thighs squeezing against him, and you wrapped an arm over his shoulder and around his back in an attempt to steady yourself. The change of angle made your head spin and you whimpered in pain as he split you open with his dick.

Rafe’s lips hungrily captured yours and your stomach flipped when he forced his tongue into your mouth, holding your head in place to kiss you deeper as he fucked you up and down on his cock.

When he broke the kiss, you both gasped for air, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten, “Fuck, kid. How’d I get so lucky?”

You couldn’t answer him, so lost in matching the movement of his hips that you couldn’t think about anything else.

His lips found your neck, nipping and kissing the tender skin to pull more moans from you.

“So perfect, sweetheart. M’ gonna fill you up,” he whispered into your throat between kisses.

At his words, you remembered why you had resisted in the first place, eyes widening as you squirmed in his lap. Rafe’s pace only increased as he locked his arm around your waist, pressing you against his bare chest and stopping you from pulling away as he pounded into you.

“Rafe- red light-!” you were cut off when his big hand covered your mouth, and you helplessly squealed against him.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, kid,” he snapped and you felt yourself unconsciously clench around him.

The older man drilled into you, stretching you out with each punishing thrust.

“Fuck- fuck!” He groaned, squeezing you against his chest as his hips stuttered and he came undone inside you.

You whined as you felt his hot seed flood your walls. Trying to get off of him proved fruitless when he held you in place and forced you to milk his cock of every drop.

The sticky feeling of his cum dripping down his cock deep inside of you was inescapable and you shuddered when he lightly bucked his hips to thrust himself up inside you again.

“Still think I need viagra, you fucking brat?”

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[lipstickhotchocolate]

Kind of want to combine my hyperfixations and redesign Stardew bachelorettes and bachelors in various eras of vintage fashion?

If I don’t end up drawing this, here’s my general vision so far just because (yes I am skipping the 30s and 40s because I don’t find them as visually interesting):

20s:

Penny. Her hair reminds me a lot of the pinned up faux bobs that flappers would wear and I think she would look AMAZING in a drop waist and cloche hat.

Krobus. His little trench coat get up gives me sort of 1920s Agatha Christie detective novel vibes.

50s:

Shane, because I think he would look dapper with a kind of Cary Grant and Marlon Brando hybrid inspired look? Like with sharp lines and but because he’s messy his sharp suit is ruffled after a long night.

Abigail. I know this isn’t the obvious choice, but due to my hatred™️ of Pierre and Caroline’s parenting style, Abigail’s story has always felt a bit like her breaking away from tradition, especially for gender wise. As such, I want to draw her in Beatnik style, with a black turtleneck, a beret, slacks, and huge dark glasses.

60s:

Harvey :). His fascination with planes means I absolutely have to draw him in the golden age of travel. I’m thinking a smart suit, kind of more early 1960s, inspired by the fashion in the original Bond films.

Haley. I would probably do a different part of 60s fashion to Harvey for her, more akin to the mid to late sixties Swinging London movement, as inspired by Twiggy and Mary Quant. Boxy mini dress, Gogo boots and a Bridget Bardot-esque bouffant.

70s:

Maru. The 70s were big for jumpsuits and women’s fashion got a lot more practical, which I think works well with her personality. I love Maru and I love flared jeans so 🫠 I also think I would give her big hair (I love her older game designs)

Leah. Leah’s hippie artist vibes work perfectly for the 70s flowery hippie fashion. Please put my girl in a loose fitting prairie dress or some bell sleeves. Her hair would also work with the long natural wavy look of that era.

80s:

Emily. I know her vibes are at a first glance 70s, but the style of her dress and her hair remind me SO MUCH of Winona Ryders wedding dress in beetlejuice? So the gothy fashion of the 80s with big spiky hair and mesh and craftiness remind me of Emily.

Elliot. Once again at a first glance 70s, but I will put this man in a late 70s/early 80s glam rock outfit if it kills me. With the massive hair and the sort of military inspired studded jacket and everything. Hear me out.

Alex: the 80s were probably the start of the jock character, and Alex to me reads like he could literally be a character in the breakfast club to be honest. He must be taken back to his roots.

90s:

Sam. In the 90s skater boy fashion was literally like… the thing, so this is obvious. Give him a baggy ahh flannel , a baggier ahh graphic tee and a baggiest ahh pair of jeans. And some fugly 90s man hair.

Sebastian. Not really a huge redesign, but I’m incapable of not drawing him as like a mall goth / early emo kid (yes I know they’re different but similar style roots).

[thisisnotthenerd]

i’m having exu calamity thoughts at midnight.

when the ring of brass meets at the ivy table in the palazzo por’co, it’s mentioned that this is the first replenishment for the ring of brass as a whole. when you consider the age differential of the pcs, this becomes way more interesting

patia was the first--’middle-aged’ for a member of a species that can live over 700 years is probably around 300-400. given patia’s general avalir native energy, i’m going to put her on at the younger side of things. avalir was raised from toramunda 292 years prior to the calamity--i don’t think she would be old enough to remember that. this is a woman who has lived her entire life on avalir, and given it to the city that birthed her. the memory erasure and removal of patia’s parents could have happened within the first 100 years or so of patia’s life, and any alignments with apogee solstices pin it to around her 50-60s. it’s still feasible for patia to have known the raven queen pre-ascension, though i’d put it at young adulthood more than childhood. there really isn’t a good way to give an exact estimate of her age as compared to a human lifespan given that she’s probably been the keeper of scrolls for the city for probably a good century, and the granddaughter of an archmage, the archmage who brought avalir to the skies. it tracks for her to be a member of the ring of silver from her position alone. she’s maintaining the city’s google archives, and setting records (ha!) while doing it.

patia’s theoretical age: 300ish

patia’s human lifespan equivalent: late 30s early 40s. feels older than her peers by a wide margin, for good reason. armed with knowledge, money, and her family’s good name, this kennedy equivalent can only go up from here.

laerryn’s listed age is around 100-150. this is a woman born in the sky with a brain that kept her city there. funnily enough, she could have been born around the last apogee solstice. i’m not saying it happened. i’m just saying that a woman who’s spent her life searching for a way beyond the stars, being born during a confluence of leylines, a major celestial event? maybe not a coincidence. when compared to patia, she’s so young. it’s crazy for her to be both the architect arcane and hierophant abjura. it is unbelievable to me that people could overlook her, but i guess that’s how she cultivated her work. hats off to aabria iyengar for making an extreme prodigy CON wizard who can square up with primordials and win. laerryn is doing an extreme amount of work maintaining the spell engines that keep that city afloat. I’m unsurprised that she gets mad enough to kill the speaker of the fourth, magister micah cormorant, in a single round of fireball and construct slam attacks.

laerryn’s theoretical age: 120ish for apogee solstice lineup. probably older--closer to 130-140.

laerryn’s human lifespan equivalent: around 25, maybe a little older. she’s an elf, but holy shit. this is someone who became an adult a few replenishments ago. she’s girlbossed her way into the heart of this city with a finesse that few can match.

it’s easy to think that for a while it’s just the two of them, but realistically, the ring of brass probably starts being a thing within the last two decades. laerryn would not have been old enough or important enough to rub shoulders with patia socially at least until adulthood. i’m imagining a young laerryn going to the librarium incantatum to find obscure references for her research often enough that they get introduced and strike up a mentorship/friendship.

loquatius is a little tricky. we know he’s around 150 as of exu:c, based on the average fey lifespan of around 300 and the fact that laerryn doesn’t know if he would be alive to see the next apogee solstice. we don’t know when he left the feywild to chase the truth in avalir. but the herald’s tome is well established, and so is he, as the herald of avalir, voice of the council, scribe of crowns. so either he came like 50 years ago and had the time to set it all up himself, or the herald’s tome was already an existing institution. i’m leaning towards the former--he seems like he would have started elsewhere, gotten frustrated, started his own publication, outcompeted everyone else, then turned into the exact thing he didn’t want to become. anyway. this puts him around middle-aged, like patia, so that’s where i’m going to put him. also this gives a nice window of time where he’s working his way up, and a way for him to get introduced to laerryn in a work context where both of them are revolutionaries in their fields.

loquatius’ theoretical age: 150ish.

loquatius’ human lifespan equivalent: late 30s early 40s. this doesn’t matter as much for him either--he’s fey, and wasn’t really operating on human standards anyway.

evandrin is even more difficult, given how much we just don’t know about him. he’s a half elf, so he’s running a little slower than the humans of the party, but not by much. i’d say he’s in his late teens/early 20s when he first meets laerryn, while she’s around 110. this gives them a good window of friendship pre-zerxus & ring of brass. if he was working his way up though the ranks, i could see them becoming friends while she’s working on a spell engine keyed to an alarm system for the chancellor’s guards in her capacity as hierophant abjura. or maybe the chancellor’s guards cause some destruction that she has to deal with as the architect arcane. this would put him at mid-late 20s when he has elias and meets zerxus in cathmoira, and mid-30s when he dies.

evandrin’s theoretical age: late 30s.

evandrin’s human lifespan equivalent: still late 30s as of the eve of the replenishment while he’s in the astral sea. not a huge difference, because half-elves basically just double a human lifespan, but mature at the same rate apparently.

zerxus is canonically 37, so i don’t need to put in any work to know that about him. zerxus, in his early adulthood, is on cathmoira doing some kind of paladin/oracle training that gets him to a level where he’s the runner-up to evandrin for the position of first knight when evandrin passes. maybe the position’s at least a little hereditary. something to think about later. doing a lot of work in terms of physical protection of the city--who needs an army when you’ve got a widowed paladin with a belt of storm giant strength? just let the guy get his grief out and enjoy having a principled first knight instead of fucking kevin.

zerxus’ theoretical age: early 20s when he meets evandrin and elias, ~30 when evandrin dies, and 37 at the eve of the calamity. no need for human lifespan equivalent.

nydas is around the same age, given that they grew up together in cathmoira. we know nydas goes off to be a pirate for a while before coming to the golden scythe and becoming the guildmaster--late teens through early 20s at the very least, and he’s commanding power and respect by the time he properly makes it to the skies. this tracks for when the nasty trifecta would start to meet, and sets a solid foundation for his role as the bank roll for the city of avalir. also someone doing a fuckton of work, but getting more credit for it.

nydas’ theoretical age: mid-late 20s when he gets to avalir and becomes the guildmaster, late 30s by the eve of the calamity. no need for human lifespan equivalent.

cerrit is the last of the bunch to turn up, and for good reason: he’s probably in his early 20s, no older than 25. eisfuura seem to exhibit a marginally different growth pattern than aarakocra--maya and kir are 7 and 5, but for human equivalency, like 14 and 10. a rough doubling makes sense, especially because they do say maya is 14 at one point. so, cerrit is probably like 20-25. rose up through the ranks of the eyes of avalir super quickly because of his keen sense and ability to catch things that others couldn’t. i think it tracks for him and wrayne to have gotten married a little earlier than laerryn and loquatius. also the fact that his lifespan is shorter just makes his absence from his family life more depressing. it’s less time, sure, but more to miss. also it’s very funny that maturity wise he could be older than everyone except for patia but chronologically closer to laerryn’s equivalent age. it’s so funny that laerryn is afraid of a bird that literally just showed up less than a decade ago. and then you see that the bird is terrifying in a fiercely competent kind of way.

also, i think this lends credence to the fact that cerrit has been a little separate from the friendship dynamic of the rest of the group: laerryn & patia are best friends, the seelies have romantic nonsense all the time, laerryn & evandrin were friends, which brought zerxus into the fold, and nydas had connections to both the trouble trio and zerxus. cerrit probably made a connection through patia, and immediately became a moral force. also this sets him up to join post-evandrin, making his friendship with zerxus all the more interesting. anyway.

cerrit’s theoretical age: early 20s--i’ll say 22 for now

cerrit’s human lifespan equivalent: early 40s. this man instantly became the handler for all of these people. my god.

anyway to be at that table is to simultaneously be an extremely overworked millennial and also maybe older than god and/or just old enough to graduate college. very fun and spicy age dynamics that could have been explored more, but i’m happy where they are, as you can see.

[arolesbianism]

Epic dst age hcs and thoughts under the cut (skipping ppl with canon or basically canon ages (and also other ppl I don't feel like talking abt))

Maxwell: I'm starting with him since he's kind of my age compass so to speak, but of course he's on the older end of the cast. I imagine he's somewhere in his 60s, but he could also be in his mid to late fifties in my minds eye. I personally tend to lean towards early 60s though, like 62 probably?

Wolfgang: having been a full adult (hopefully anyways gmdjdnsh) during our pre Maxwell being Maxwell era, we can assume he's also on the older end of the cast, but perhaps not quite as old, or maybe even older if you believe in yourself. I tend to view him as like 58, but he could rly range anywhere from 40s-60s to me, but technically speaking he rly could be younger, especially taking into account that we don't know when he entered the constant, as that evidently can functionally pause a characters aging with the outside world as seen with Wendy. I definitely wouldn't go below 30 though, he ain't that young

Wx-78: this fucker. This fucker. It all felt so clean after their rework animation, but noooo we had to have a notably young Wagstaff at an event that fucks with the timeline of everything, so now I. Don't fucking know. I'm so scared klei please don't take early 60s Wx hc away from me Im begging y'all-

Wickerbottom: very clearly intended to be the eldest of the cast, I think it's safe to say she's like mid 60s at the absolute youngest. To me she's probably somewhere in her late 70s, but she could easily be much older. Tbh rn klei could pull anything out of their ass in regards to Wickerbottom they could say she's somehow 200 years old and we'd kind of just have to accept it as another unexplained fucked up Wickerbottom thing, they probably won't but itd be funny if they did. Just sequence of historical events with Wickerbottom standing in the background. She's like 79 idk.

Woodie: dude he could be like any age and I'd probably believe it. I personally tend to see him as late 30s, but I rly could see him ranging from late 20s to late 50s, and there's Nothing pointing in any specific age so idk. He can be 38 ig.

Wes: sigh. I don't fucking know. Somewhere in his 20s most likely. I don't like trying to pin down his age in my hcs nothing ever feels quite right to me </3

Wigfrid: this might be a bit older than most probably imagine her, but I've always seen her as a bit on the older end. Not like, Old old, but like somewhere in her late 30s to mid 40s probably? Mayyyybe early to mid 30s. Idk, I know she's an actress so having a successful career is more associated with younger age as opposed to older, but she's always given me big like. Star of a movie franchise that defines the first decade or so of her career in a way that sets her up for failure for the rest of it. Either way, I just cannot see her as being any younger than 30 personally.

Winona: now she's a bit of a tricky one. On the one hand, it should be easy to have a hc age for her since I have one for Charlie. On the other hand, I feel the need to think real hard abt what the age gap between the two is in my minds eye. It's hard because I can't in good faith go over 4 years, but I don't know how to narrow it from there. But with the 4 year limit, I think thatd put her in her late 30s early 40s ish in my hcs? I've been saying that a lot huh djdbrjdv

Warly: look me in my eyes. He's 50 at the youngest. He's like 65. Just trust me bro.

Wanda: nope

Wheeler: we have like no real info on her but she gives me early to mid 30s vibes? So like relatively young but still an established adult.

Walani: despite looking quite young, based on her dialogue it rly does sound like she's been around for longer than like freshly 20. I'm leaning towards early 30s, but I could also see her as late 20s or maybeeee mid 20s if we wanna stretch a lil bit.

Wagstaff: again, I genuinely don't fucking know how old hes supposed to be at this point and Im scared. But he's like 60 smth in my minds eye, around the same age as Wx

And it's 2 am so just imagine I said smth really insightful at the end here and now I shall pass the fuck out ✌

[porcelain-rob0t]

what are your top 20 fashion history facts

aw yesss i love this question

let's go 20 fashion history facts. most of my knowledge is primarily from western countries and 19th-20th century, just as a little disclaimer. also this is stream of consciousness infodump so you can fact check and tell me if i got stuff wrong. some may be well known, others more obscure, im just happy to talk

in the 1940s, a lot of traditional beauty products were in short supply bc of the war and rations, so people had to get creative. one example is that fabric was being rationed so shorter simpler dresses and less hats. thats why the 1940s is known for all the really elaborate hairstyles.

a lot of things that we call corsets aren't actually corsets. if it's before the 19th century, support garments were called stays. also corsets weren't evil torture devices, they're just like bras that distribute the weight of the bust through the abdomen rather than the shoulders. they were only dangerous when worn incorrectly or ill-fittingly, kinda like wearing the wrong bra size.

bellbottom pants had their roots in older navy uniforms. the idea is that if you go overboard, you can tie off the ends of your pants to be used as floatation devices. my grandfather was in the navy and during my 70s fashion era, he told me that cool little fact.

a lot of makeup throughout the ages was made using what you had available. one of my favorite examples is carmine, a red pigment that was used in rouge, lip products, and blush. carmine is made from bugs!! isnt that cool?

pretty much everything that has ever trended has trended before, we call this nostalgia cycles, usually it's every 30 years but it can be as short as 10 years. for example, the 2010s was interested in replicating some 80s aesthetics, the same way we're seeing that with the 2000s now.

my favorite fashion subcultures in recent history is the mod look from the early-mid 1960s. it was built around rebelling from the restriction of 50s. this came from less structured dresses, shorter skirts, bright colors, and expressive eye makeup. if you think about it, the mod look is kind of a 30-40 year nostalgia cycle with the flapper movement of the 1920s.

speaking of subcultures, theyre all started by marginalized people working with what they have. prime examples are the punk and grunge movement being very proletariat in origin, most of the fashion staples are what people could get secondhand/cheap. this is your reminder that you dont need to buy from "punk" brands to dress punk, work with what you got! have fun, get creative, tear shit up, upcycle it, decorate how you want, add pins and stuff!!! :D

tight-laced corsets were not common during the Victorian/Edwardian. in the photos of women with seemingly tiny waists, those were often created with padding the bust and hips. photo editing also existed, it's always been there, it was usually painting in parts of the photo. setting the subject up in front of a dark background, using lots of contrast, and then you can use a bit of black paint on the photograph to make the waist smaller.

Christian Dior was the guy who popularized fake pockets in women's pants, so if hell is real and i end up there, i will hunt him down.

in the late 19th-early 20th century, models were called "living mannequins"

i only have 10 so far but expect a part 2

[lokis-wager]

I was wondering two things: how old is Kratos in your fic ? I was thinking in his late 40s or early 50s

Also: would Atreus shave on the side of his head like in canon and have his little mohawk haircut?

Yeah, 40s-50 ish is right. I don't have his exact age pinned down, but that range works :3 ie around the age where he should be retiring from firefighting soon, thus causing more angst.

Atreus has longish hair in this, long enough to have bangs. I figure that canon Atreus has his hair so short because he's a warrior, but nerdy modern Atreus doesn't need to do that lol.

https://at.tumblr.com/lokis-wager/its-the-booooy/1i2gaoi4531l

^^^ I drew a picture a little while ago, so imagine him with this haircut but drawn way better lol.

[tiredbluejay]

I am contractually obligated to buy things with blue jays on them.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I know there's a LOT of love out there for shrunkyclunks (re: twink, modern day Bucky with Captian America Steve) and I do love me some modern Bucky and Cap Steve. I really really do. However, may we consider-

Captain America Steve and modern, not twink but silver fox Bucky?

Silver fox Bucky that isn't as old as Steve, obviously, but he is older. Mature with a youthful soul, playful as a cat still believing itself to be a kitten despite greying fur.

Steve is 26, 27, 28 while Bucky is in his late 40s, crossing the bridge to his 50s.

Particularly, I'm picturing silver fox Bucky that has fully grey hair, root to tips, because he started going grey early. (His beard also grows out grey when he doesn't shave.) His hair usually is pinned back, it's long enough to arrange into a messy yet effortlessly gorgeous bun- he jokes that he's got to keep it long while he still has it while knowing that there's no male pattern baldness in his family. Really, he likes it. Also, Bucky likes how much Steve likes it. Those grey-blue eyes look more blue than ever, next to his faded hair and emphasized by handsome crows feet. Smile lines have never looked more gorgeous than they do on Bucky. Readers for particularly small fonts - needed after years of squinting at screens on the job (medical engineering has a lot more computer models and spread sheets than you would even think naturally) - have never been so intimate to see. It has never been so intimate, precious to watch someone power down for the evening, stepping out of work clothes and into sweats, shaking out his hair, and putting his glasses on.

Looks aside, Steve feels his real age around Bucky (among feeling all the butterflies). He feels like he is only in his 20s, his partner older and guiding his gently, elegantly through the world. Affectionate. Careful. Steve is so, so in love with him; he is his partner but also his mentor in some ways.

Steve feels his age around Bucky, refreshingly. He falls asleep with his head in Bucky's lap in the evening, wanting to continue watching the movie on the TV set, flickering over his tired features, of which isn't actually filmed with explosions and blood but have instead been added after. With special effects that look like real life, impossibly. He uses slang that he's picked up from Sam and Nat, common among their generation, and Bucky, confused, will look up from whatever he's doing to say, "the hells that, Stevie?" Because he's heard that before, sure, he just doesn't know the meaning. And he's never asked for fear of judgement for not being hip and with the kids. Steve will watch Bucky wince as he gets up in the morning, naked with sheets falling gracefully from his bare skin, lit warmly, and laugh softly when his partner grumbles, "be glad you don't age, Stevie, it fuckin' sucks," because he slept wrong. He'll have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day.

The nickname Bucky gives him in of itself makes Steve feel young. It feels warm every time it comes off of his tongue. It feels like a hand ruffling through his hair. Like an older kid trying to get under his skin. Stevie.

Most notably though, looking at Bucky, Steve is not afraid of time. He is not afraid of age- of aging.

Steve does not see time as a weapon of hurt and loss, looking between Bucky's face and the photographs of him in his youth (or even looking back at photos of him when he was Steve's current age). He sees stories of love and laughter and happiness painted joyously over his skin. He sees lived knowledge, wisdom (as cliché as it is), and acceptance of the self...

[askfordoodles]

What you you headcanon everyone (the N's) ages at, I see Cortex being in his 40/50s, Brio being a being in his mid/late 50s, Tropy a little older than Cortex, and N. Gin in his 30s. I know they (minus Tropy) all went to the same school, and are supposedly around the same age, but with how they were portrayed in Crash 4 it looks like they're gonna be changing some things. N. Gin definitely looks younger and Brio looks older.

I always disregard the "School of Evil" lore introduced in Twinsanity and onwards, because it's post-Naughty Dog. As fun as the concept is, I consider it an AU rather than canon.

So my personal headcanons for the major N-scientists age are:

Cortex: Early 50's, idk why - he strikes me as always having been a very feral boomer lel I think it's the hair.

Tropy: Mid-to-late 50's (although I also suspect him to have mentally experienced much more á la Time Turner/Groundhog Day shenanigans, so the literal Master of Time is a bit hard for me to pin down. Mentally, I like to think he's "lived/experienced at least a couple of centuries". Enough to start going a bit unstable, apathetic and cold.

Nigel N. Fuse (OC): Mentally around mid-40's. He is created from the personalities of two men in their 50's, but he just got here, so he's a 'little younger', but 5 years is just a formality at this point. Fusions are tricky like that.

N. Gin: I always pictured at least 10-15 years younger than his colleagues. He feels like a gen x among boomers to me lol. Early 40's. He's should be old enough to have reached Chief Engineer of Defense before his accident, at least. It's easy to forget that this man had a well-established career before working for Cortex. Even if he is 'babey'.

Brio: Brio is tricky because he's got that tired "too old for this shit" attitude that comes from having worked for Cortex the longest. Also he's like Doc Brown (to quote John Mulaney: "he's either 40 or 80 idk"). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But since there's very little else to go on I'm gonna pull from the "secondary canon" lost lore from the first game that Cortex and Brio did indeed go school together, so they're roughly the same age. Brio just aged worse due to stress and the chemical fumes.

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[earthstellar]

My TFP Humanformers Headcanons: With Pictures This Time

Originally posted here, but that’s all text only.

In my defence, I studied fashion at university level for two years, so this post was inevitable.

Optimus Prime - James Dean Style, aka “Hot Dad” 

Optimus would probably love doing the research to determine human styles and what he likes best. 

I can picture him doing a 1950s inspired look, more Greaser than stuffy suits, but in a more James Dean way and not John Travolta in Grease kind of way if he needed to go undercover as Jack’s dad or something.

He’d be a bit older than James Dean was in the above photo, definitely in his 30s at the youngest. Would still have silver mixed in with his black hair, to replicate the silver details on his helm. He doesn’t smoke, but might chew on a pen cap every now and then without thinking about it. 

Ultra Magnus - Vittorio de Sica - Classic Italian Suit Chic

When doing research into human styles, Optimus showed him a Hermes magazine and some European business style guides from GQ and decided he liked the formal suit look. I imagine he’d have a very Italian look to him, as he might be wearing an Italian or Continental style suit. 

For some reason, Magnus as a 40 or 50 year old stern and stylish Italian guy just works really well. He’d be extremely well dressed, well groomed, would still demand authority, and I imagine him looking like Vittorio de Sica, pictured above. 

He would perhaps use his holoform to accompany Fowler in discussions with some military superiors.

Initially, he wanted to pick a military style uniform for his holoform, and Fowler had to explain to him in detail why that wasn’t an acceptable thing to do. So he went for chic lawyer instead.

Ratchet - Old War Vet + What He Thinks is Nevada Style: George Gabby Hayes

Ratchet would literally just be my dad or any of his old war buddies, possibly with a mobility aid like a cane or walking stick because that seems to be very popular amongst my dad and his friends. (To quote my father: “I can walk with it and I can beat people with it, so it works fine for me, don’t touch me dammit I can get up by myself.”) 

I get the feeling he’d approach designing his holoform from a logical angle, wanting to fit in with the locals to avoid detection. Unfortunately, this meant he found a bunch of old Western movies online when looking up style inspiration, and decided that this was probably the best look to go for since all these movies were filmed in Nevada, so surely this would be familiar to people, right? (Wrong.) 

He’d be tough and wrinkly, but give those precious old man smiles with big twinkling eyes that shine so brightly against his old weathered skin, and that alone would get him get out of trouble with the authorities-- Or helps him get the others out of trouble. He would play the “I’m just an old person, what do you want from me” card and he would succeed. Then he’d turn around and get mad that everyone treats him like he’s old, lmao.

Arcee - Tori Amos: Late 1990s/2000s Casual 

Arcee would go for 20s-30s in terms of age, motorcyclist, we already see this on screen every now and then. I think they would estimate for approximate human age relative to one another’s Cybertronian age, so this works as Arcee seems to be younger than the rest. 

I picture her outside of her motorcycle gear in a very late 90s/early 2000s style look, casual but stylish. It would throw people off because she’s so much mature than what people might assume, which gives her an edge in conversation.

Her cover story could be that she’s Jack’s cousin, or maybe a friend of his mom’s, depending on what the mission/situation is. Could also possibly say that she’s one of Jack’s co-workers if need be. She’d probably redesign her holoform to have red hair just to troll Jack (the classmate he has a crush on is a redhead). 

Bulkhead - Mark Sagato + 1990s Alt Rock Gear 

I can easily picture Bulkhead’s holoform looking similar to Mark Sagato, pictured above, who is a former Sumo wrestler and a film actor. 

He’d be rocking a green cargo jacket layered with a plaid flannel shirt over a plain white tee or a band t-shirt and blue jeans with black steel toe boots, possibly with a workman’s tool belt. His cover story could be that he’s Miko’s uncle visiting from Japan! 

I imagine a very casual 90s alternative rock meets almost-lumberjack look for him, to match Miko a bit. He’d probably have some ribbon wristbands from live shows/gigs up his arm, because Miko would absolutely encourage accessorising.

Wheeljack - Billy Idol + Specifically Grunge Punk 

Wheeljack would be every single old school dude in the grunge punk scene that I’ve ever met. He’d look like an older Billy Idol, but only if you imagine what that would look like, not like, the actually currently old Billy Idol. 

Older guy, skinny but tough, jean jacket covered in patches and buttons and pins, black jeans held together with random string sewn in like embroidery thread, a pair of Converse so old that they might be from the 70s original line. Grey bandana also covered in pins around his head and another around his neck. He would also have ribbon wristbands from shows, courtesy of Miko’s style advice.

Bumblebee - Fred Olande: 1995 Was a Great Year for Skateboarding

Bumblebee would be a young guy, maybe even late teens/early 20s, massively baggy yellow hoodie with a black jean vest over the top like a lot of young guys wore in the 90s back when I wasn’t a dinosaur myself. Jeans that are pale from being worn/washed too many times, threadbare around the knees, wearing some kind of skateboarding shoe. I imagine him wearing a beanie as well. Every pocket is full of graffiti pens for the skatepark and his phone screen is cracked.

Raf would help him with his holoform details, and I can picture him basing his look off of some of Raf’s family photos, so he’d definitely be Mexican/Latinx. His cover story could be that he’s Raf’s cousin visiting from a border town or Mexico, and his excuse for not speaking would simply be that he doesn’t know that much English, so that would work out perfectly.

Smokescreen - 1970s/1980s Sports Gear Forever 

Smokescreen would inevitably try to go for a 1970s/80s movie inspired sporty look, and would probably look to be about in his late teens/early 20s.

Think classic white Nikes, very sporty 80s style with a white and blue puffy jacket (or sweat shirt) and red fabric wristbands. If anyone has a mullet or a feathered hair style, it’s gonna be Smokescreen. His tank top is Adidas, and his sweatpants are also Adidas.

Unfortunately, he then discovers that shorts exist, and cycles between the classic Butterick patterns above, depending on the mission/who he is trying to impress that day. 

(I won’t lie, I did the shorts over sweatpants thing well into the 90s. Yes, I was made fun of.) 

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 2 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Sasuke skipped out during the cultural festival just like he did back in the last year of his middle school, content in hearing nothing but his own breath, the bustle outside his window, the sporadic chirping of the birds in early mornings and late afternoons, the shuffle of feet from his neighbors and the occasional clanking of dishes. When hours extended late into the evening, the activities would be replaced by the muffled night life that seemed like eons away but was actually just five blocks far and so he would pick out the drums, the bass drops, and the rave chaos and fall asleep when the crowds pack up, but not all days were like these. He would stay awake well past the closing time with silence confronting his consciousness, and his only friend would be the CD collection of a Japanese artist called The Charm Park from a previous tenant who left it behind. He spent his winter break like this.

When spring term came around, Sasuke noticed a shift around Naruto. The tiptoeing was still there, but it lessened to an extent where his classmates would greet him ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ while they walked to their hideout. He was right in not asking because the blonde eventually overshared everything.

The second years held an impromptu race before the culmination. Naruto, eager to get the front seat view, pushed against the crowds, incidentally landed on the track, became the representative of the first years, and won the race. Ultimately, it ended on a good note despite the rookie athletes being overshadowed, and Naruto’s bully magnet has transformed into some sort of people magnet. His classmates have asked him for lunch several times in the presence of Sasuke, but Naruto turned them down.

“You can ask for shares in their bento boxes or struck gold and have them make you one,” Sasuke said. “You don’t need to litter around here.”

“I feel sorry for you,” Naruto replied, grinning while handing him a juice carton.

It was cherry tomato flavored – an unusual choice for the simple-minded Naruto who would easily settle on an orange or grapefruit juice. Sasuke understood this was the blonde’s kind of pull on people, and he heard what he tried to say between the lines. “It’s the stares.”

“And the request for the background story no one really wants to hear.”

Sasuke sipped the last of the juice from the carton. “Just think of it as your villain origin story.”

“But I want to be a hero and do main character things!”

He crumpled the juice carton in his hands and playfully threw it towards Naruto, perfectly landing in the middle of the styled spikes. “You simpleton.” The blonde gave him an intense glare and threw the carton back to Sasuke, missing the small smile that formed on the latter’s lips.

When the last term wrapped up, student rankings were finally pinned in the major hallway entrance. Sasuke was itching to go home and eat a pack of instant ramen, but Naruto picked him up from his classroom and dragged him to the hallway. As usual, there were the awed and open-eyed stares, basically confirming that he placed first, but there was also clear contempt towards his nonchalance.

“You are really a genius, Sasuke.” Naruto patted him on the back – soft, gentle pats, reassuring, and proud. It was like the ones given to him by his parents when he placed first or won a contest. All of a sudden, the place was too stifling, and his hand unconsciously went to his throat to massage it, hoping he could get rid of the thing that was blocking his airway.

A hand with a bluish fingernail shot out from his dimming sight and brought him back to reality. It was Sakura holding out her hand for a handshake. “I guess you beat me…by 0.5 point.”

“You had a bet with Sasuke, Sakura?” Naruto asked. In between the cultural festival and the spring term, the two had become familiar with each other, occasionally greeting each other in the hallways between classes, but Sakura never had a direct interaction with Sasuke.

“Yes, during the cultural festival,” the walking cherry blossoms happily replied. Her hand was still struck out, earning questioning glances from the surrounding student body because who would dare ignore the unofficial darling of the school?

“It wasn’t a bet.” Sasuke tugged on Naruto’s collar. “Let’s go, Naruto.” He turned with the blonde in tow, but Hatake Kakashi blocked his way. He had on a protective stance with crossed arms and slight brow raise. The book he was always carrying was peeking out from his pants’ pocket.

“Don’t leave a girl waiting for a handshake, Mr. Uchiha. That’s disrespectful in a competition.” His lips were curved in that consistent ambiguous smile that highlighted the beauty mark on his chin. Kakashi firmly grabbed Sasuke’s hand in the next seconds and placed it on Sakura’s still open palm.

Contrary to his assumption, her palm was rugged with rough contours and with evident history of calluses – the hands of a hard worker. Sasuke wanted to blame his stored prejudices on her cherry pink hair. He looked up, annoyed and wanting to get his hand off from her hold but was frozen in place by the visible flush on her face. Oblivious of his effect, Kakashi’s grip remained on Sasuke’s hand in an attempt of a handshake. “That seals the deal this term. Looking forward to your competition next term.” The spectators rode on the teacher’s easy-going energy and shrugged off this weird encounter.

Naruto was the one who tugged on Sasuke’s collar and pulled him away from the crowd. The latter immediately shoved his hands inside his pockets and walked away briskly. Ever so briefly, Sasuke glanced back and saw Kakashi patting Sakura’s shoulder, probably offering congratulations, and validating her. He wondered whether the teacher noticed the subtle hair tuck or the redness of her ears and nape. Naruto’s arm blocked his view as the blonde placed it around his shoulders, snickering and praising his ‘friend’s genius skills’ all the way to the school gates where they eventually separated and welcomed the summer break.

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

Not a week into summer Naruto hunted Sasuke down and knocked incessantly on his door. “Grumpy! Save me!”

“If you’re on the verge of dying, call 119.” Sasuke increased the volume of the cd player to drown out the noise. The knocks stopped after a few seconds which gave Sasuke temporary relief.

“Sasuke!”

Nope, he wasn’t gone. “What do you want?”

“Math remedial classes. In exchange, I have ramen.”

No one really visited him and so if he would open the door, Naruto would be his first ever visitor. Sasuke tried to ascertain his feelings – whether he was angry that someone intruded in his personal space or relieved he didn’t need to be alone with his thoughts.

“You better brought a lot,” Sasuke said as he opened the door. Naruto held up an eco-bag full of ramen, chips, and soda. On his other arm were their school books and Math notebook.

“You’re hopeless.” Naruto’s scores were averaging between 40s and 50s. “I thought you were on scholarship?”

“There’s no academic crap so I’m good.” Naruto kept on glancing around Sasuke’s apartment, noting the neat line-up of books, the opened cases of CDs, the lack of television, and the closed curtains over the wide full-length windows. “How come your apartment is cleaner and bigger? I could never keep my space clean. It takes so much energy!”

“I have the better side of the coin, remember?”

“Eh but your fridge is empty,” Naruto noted as he started to cook ramen.

“As if yours isn’t. Besides, don’t you need to study first?”

“No, no, no. Haven’t you heard of positive reinforcement? Incentive first before the hard work!”

For the next two weeks, Naruto came over with ramen packs and Sasuke would help him with Math classes. On the last day, he accompanied Naruto to school as the blonde submitted his requirements.

“Thank you, personal tutor. Because of you, I have passed my make-up classes and can now enjoy the remaining days of summer!” Naruto punched his fists in the air, invigorated by his academic freedom. “So what are your plans?”

“Leave me alone. That’s your payment.” Sasuke quickly said, followed with a sigh. His social battery was down, and he believed it was already swimming in negatives.

Naruto yelled a greeting to someone and damned if Sasuke knew who it was, but he was suddenly being dragged into a baseball field. Naruto had quite the strength, and Sasuke just knew he was lifting weights in his free time.

“Mind filling in? We’re just short for two in a practice game.”

“Yes, I mind,” Sasuke said without missing a beat. “Naruto, I hate you.”

Naruto gave him a very worn-out mitt while he swung the batt over his shoulder. “Just one game. I’ll have ramen delivered to your apartment.”

Sasuke released a sigh again. What a drag.

The players settled in their respective places, Sasuke stayed on the pitcher’s mound, and Naruto was the batter. The catcher signaled him to release the ball. Relying on his muscle memory, Sasuke pitched a curve ball towards Naruto, and the blonde easily hit it towards homerun.

“Sasuke! Great pitch!” Naruto ran towards him with his arms ready for a hug but Sasuke dodged the attempt.

“What a monster pitch. Are you sure you don’t want to try out?” the second years asked. Naruto was obviously very taken with the sport and didn’t miss the chance to start talking with the members. When the question was asked, he turned to Sasuke with a silent plea in his eyes, but Sasuke knew it wasn’t the place he can belong in.

“You have Naruto. He seems to be a great batter, don’t you think so?” Sasuke said.

“Well, if it came from the genius Uchiha Sasuke, then we gotta take Naruto in.”

Sasuke waved goodbye to Naruto who decided to stay for the remaining of the practice game. He didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for himself, having been left alone again by someone who found a better place. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t like baseball. It was his brother’s favorite game.

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

“When is Itachi coming back?” He kept on rolling the car windows up and down on his side, sick of the sights of the endless sea and the cliffs. “Why does he need to go to England when there are good schools here?”

“That’s where the best medical program is, Sasuke. Your brother is just chasing his dreams.” His mother turned to him from the passenger side. “When he graduates, let’s all go visit him in Oxford.”

“Let’s have him pay for our Euro trip,” his father jokingly added.

His father was a careful driver – his eyes never left the road, he rode with a constant speed that was neither fast nor slow, he was careful with blind curves. In his lifetime, he got a parking ticket once when his wife’s water broke in the office, and he haphazardly parked across the lane to quickly get to her and ensure the safe delivery of their youngest.

His father was a careful driver, but others were not. A motorcycle shot out of nowhere while they were turning on a blind curve. The car veered to the other side facing the sea and the cliffs, the tires sliding forward and then downward, loud thumps as if repeatedly beaten by waves on rocky shores, and finally a loud crash.

Sasuke was disoriented. The sun was setting on the ocean, but he smelled gasoline instead of the salty air. He had an inkling his forehead was cut because the blood was hindering his sight. He heard grunting noises and pained screams from his parents, but he didn’t know if they were still in front of him or under him, but he felt someone pull him out of the car.

Thank goodness all three of them were still alive.

“You’re bleeding. Sasuke, Sasuke, here a handkerchief.” His mother’s face was cut across, and her one eye was gouged out. She firmly put the bloody handkerchief in his trembling hands. “Go, put it on your forehead.”

His father. Where was his father? He was already lying down on the sand. That was weird. Weren’t sand supposed to be gray? Why was it red? Why was it bloody red? His father’s one hand was on his side, the red water flowing through his fingers’ tight clasp. He reached out his other arm to Sasuke’s leg, patting it reassuringly. “Are you okay, son?”

His mother was coughing now. And then there was a loud explosion. It was deafening and roaring and then Sasuke heard nothing.

He heard nothing but waves for the next twelve hours. Maybe he was just asleep, and this was just a long nightmare. Then the sirens came.

Sasuke woke up drenched in a cold sweat, his mouth dry, and his heartbeat convulsing in its own chamber. He probably screamed again. He checked the digital clock on his bedside table, and it blinked back eights at him. “What a useless thing.”

Regardless of the time, he slipped into his sweatpants and hoodie and made his way downtown. He saw a café with cream puffs on display and decided to order one as his dinner. Just tonight.

“Hello, good evening. What are you buying?” A cheery voice greeted him on the counter.

He quietly pointed at one plate of cream puffs. “And one iced latte for dine-in.” There was a flash of recognition when his eyes met those of the girl on the counter.

She was dressed in the usual neutral black and white get-up of café employees, her hair was black and cropped short below her neck, she had light make-up on – it was a good disguise to throw off her scent, but her emerald eyes were a giveaway.

“Got that.” She brushed this off so easily that he thought he imagined the previous scene. Never mind, he didn’t even want to ask. His demons were enough to occupy his headspace. He stood silent, looking aimlessly at the handwritten menus while she prepared his coffee. “Here’s your order. Thank you.”

He took the tray containing his cream puffs and latte from her hand. When he grazed her palm, he basically got the confirmation he needed. She was a hard worker. He quietly slid on the loveseat at the end of the café with the clear view of the passing crowd and streets and consumed the sweets he ordered from time to time. His stomach was grumbling; he might have missed dinner and he still didn’t know what time it was.

Yes, noise is good, crowds are good. In them, I can be no one. He didn’t know how long he was staring outside. When his hands strayed to the plate, his cream puffs were already gone and his latte almost halfway there. She was also sitting in front of him, out of her work clothes but still in disguise. They just sat there in silence as the café started taking final orders and closing some sections of the place.

“Tough day?” Sakura was looking outside the window when she asked this. He initially thought she was avoiding him, but it was apparently for his own sake. With her looking away, he was allowed to be vulnerable.

“Bad dream,” Sasuke replied, taking up her invisible offer. He swirled the latte and regretted not getting a pure espresso to keep himself awake for the rest of the night.

“Hmm, that explains the sweets and caffeine, but that’s no good.”

He didn’t want to go back yet to his apartment. He wanted to lose himself in the crowd. “I’ll also walk myself to exhaustion.”

“Just aimless walking with no particular destination in mind, huh? Did that too one time and arrived home with an intense stomachache.” She took something from her bag and pushed it across the table with her eyes cast downward. “Something to fuel you on your journey tonight.”

“That’s no good – skipping meals.” Sasuke pushed the untouched bento box back to her side.

Sakura pushed it all the way to his hands, her eyes still never meeting his. “Too late for that now. It’s twelve midnight, and I’ll go home to rest while you’ll still be walking for God knows how many miles until sunrise. E-A-T.”

“Don’t you charge for outside food?”

“Silly, you have me. Now finish that so I can go home.”

Sasuke opened the bento box, holding no expectations to the contents because any proper meal was sumptuous to the appetite of a hungry person, and as he ate, she watched the passing crowds and a few minutes later, the burst of fireworks in the night sky. It was the culmination of the town’s summer festival.

She accompanied him in easy silence until he finished eating and pushed the now empty bento box to her side. She didn’t move from her place, her eyes still glued on the sights outside, so he took that as his cue to leave.

He made the mistake of looking at the window and saw her reflection looking at him leaving. He held her gaze through that and sincerely conveyed his feelings. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him and waved him goodbye.

The lights went out in the café when he stepped outside, and while he started to walk aimlessly, her eyes followed his back, a stranger in disguise wishing him comfort from the dark.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 3

[ejzah]

Could you do a fanfic where kensi has to go undercover as a model?

A/N: This prompt was sent a very long time ago. I apologize for it taking so long. This is set in season 4 and may deviate a little from canon.

***

Top Model

***

“This is the best day ever,” Deeks muttered, unable to hide his wide grin. He was situated at the end of a long runway next to several other, actual photographers who snapped rapid fire pictures of the models walking past.

He peered through the viewfinder of his camera, taking several pictures as a heavy beat vibrated through the room and a woman in a mustard yellow dress with a deep slit and feathers decorating the bodice stopped directly in front of him and gave him a sultry stare.

“See something you like?” Kensi asked, sarcasm filling her voice. She was somewhere backstage, waiting for her own turn to catwalk down the runway. He wasn’t sure what strings Hetty had pulled to get his and Kensi’s aliases, Bobby Harper and Rosa Black gigs at a fairly high profile fashion show 12 hours before the event started, but he was infinitely grateful.

Not only did he get to wear a shirt that cost more than his monthly salary (a nice change from all the utility uniforms of late), but he would also get to see Kensi live out her ANTM dreams. He wasn’t sure which of them was more excited.

“Mm, not really my type.” His camera whirred again, capturing the daring stance of a read-headed model in a deep green dress. Kensi made a rude noise, not exactly fitting with her current persona.

“I thought any woman that doesn’t run away is your type.” He grinned again, holding back a chuckle, reminding himself that it would look a little strange if he started laughing at nothing. “Ooh, what about the leggy brunette headed your way?” Kensi waited for the model to stop in front of him and then added. “Her name’s Jasmine and she likes long walks on the beach.”

“She sounds delightful, but still not my type,” Deeks muttered. He had a different leggy brunette in mind who would probably gut punch him if he ever dared to call her “leggy”.

He took several pictures on auto pilot, thankful that no one would actually be scrutinizing them for quality. His photography skills were satisfactory for crime scenes, but probably not quite magazine worthy. “Did you see anything interesting back stage?”

“Other than two models getting into a fight over a pair of Louis Vuitton shoes?” Kensi said. “Not really. There was too much chaos to focus on one thing.”

“Now that I would have loved to see.”

“Creep.” He grinned again at her mild comment. Two more models stalked by, giving their own variation of the same overly dramatic stance. Lowering his camera for a moment, he quickly swept the room to see if anyone was giving particular notice to a single model.

One of them was suspected of selling sensitive information to a foreign government. Nell and Eric had traced the sales of similar information back to several other modeling events over the past two months. They were still trying to figure out how their suspects, mostly in their early twenties and without criminal records, had attained classified information.

Sam and Callen were in the audience, keeping an eye out for their buyer. So far they’d been pretty silent though.

Three more models emerged from either side of the runway amid a cloud of manufactured mist. As the fog cleared, Kensi walked out, and the beat of his heart suddenly matched the rhythm of the music. She wore a dark blue evening gown, the plunging bodice clinging to her torso until it reached her waist and flowed down into several full layers of sheer material. Half her hair was swept up to the side with the rest fell around her shoulders in soft curls.

She looked absolutely stunning, and more importantly, confident. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as she strutted down the runway. As she drew closer to the end, Deeks heard a rush of whispers from the other photographers, wondering who she was.

Kensi paused in front of the them, her skirts swirling around her dramatically as she stopped. She glanced to him, her eyes making contact for the briefest of seconds. In that moment see saw a hint of uncertainty and then pride as the whispers continued and a dozen cameras flashed around her. She gave an extra twirl before she headed back down the runway.

One of the photographers said something about winning an award for her pictures and Deeks smothered a smirk. Kensi would get a kick out of that. To bad said pictures would never see the light of day.

“Guys, I just saw one of the models, Jenna Martinez, talking to a guy. He looked about 50 years old with gray hair and a dark blue suit,” Kensi said a few minutes later, sounding a little breathless. “I’m sending you a picture.”

“Did you see what he gave her?” Sam asked. “Coulda been a lot of things. Drugs, money in exchange for other services...”

“No, all I could see was a white envelope. But models aren’t supposed to leave styling area in between walks without permission though. If someone caught her, she could risk getting kicked out of the show. That seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Kens, check it out,” Callen decided. “Deeks, figure out a way to get out and back her up. We’ll see if we can find Kensi’s mystery man.”

“Got it. Deeks I’ll be back where they store the extra wardrobe.”

Deeks sat through two more cycles of models, conscious they had limited time before the area would be swarming with with even more people once the show had finished. He took the opportunity to slip away when one of the models took an unfortunate fall after tripping over the train of her dress.

Surprisingly, no one questioned why he was wandering around back stage. The stylists and make up people seemed completely consumed with making sure the show stayed on track to wonder about his motives.

“Kens,” he whispered when he found the storage area empty.

“Right here,” she answered, appearing from one of the many closets, still dressed in the evening gown. When she noticed his raised eyebrow, she added. “I didn’t have time to change.”

They passed through a couple dim hallways, taking a less direct route to the locker area to avoid running into anyone.

“You watch the door.” Kensi headed to the second row of lockers, sinking to a graceful crouch.

“Did you really bring your lock picking kit with you?” he asked, glancing through a crack in the door as she pulled something from the top of her dress.

“Nope, bobby pin,” she said holding it up with a smirk before she pried it open with her teeth.

“How very resourceful of you, Nancy Drew.” He nodded in appreciation as she inserted the straightened end into the keyhole.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” After a minute or so of wiggling it around,

she swore under her breath. “Damn it. It’s like there’s rust or something stuck in here and it doesn’t want to give.”

“How much longer do you think it will take?” he asked, checking the door again. There was no one in the vicinity so he left his watch and crouched beside her.

“I don’t know, Deeks!” Kensi snapped, blowing out a long breath. She glanced at him a little sheepishly as she removed the pin and started over again. “Sorry. It’s just that this usually takes me about 10 seconds.”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t happen to have any WD-40 tucked in there too?” He nodded to her chest and she slanted him a wry look, but didn’t look too annoyed.

“Right next to my wrench and screwdriver. I think-“

“Wait,” Deeks interrupted, making a hushing sound. “I think someone’s coming.” He rushed back to the door as quietly as he could. He couldn’t see anyone yet, but he heard voices and footsteps, drawing closer every second. “Kens, someone’s coming. We have to get out of here.”

“Just one more minute,” she insisted. “ I think I almost got it.” The lock made an audible click and Deeks winced at the loud creak as Kensi swung the locker door open and pulled out a Dior purse and a cloth shoulder bag.

“Kens-“ Ignoring his warning, she dumped the contents of both bags onto the floor and a collection of makeup and clothes fell out along with a medium sized envelope. Kensi snatched it up, tossing it in his direction and started stuffing the rest of the things back in the locker, not taking time to worry about neatness.

Heart pounding, he shoved the envelope in the inside of his pocket, glancing around for somewhere to hide. Two men were walking down the hallway, making a beeline for the locker room.

“Ok, let’s go,” she whispered, reaching for his hand as she stood up.

“No time,” he hissed back, tugging her further into the room. Kensi made a surprised sound when he pushed her up against the lockers and added, “Please don’t hit me.”

She didn’t have time to respond before he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

***

A/N: I clearly do not know much about modeling or fashion shows so I went with what I do know fairly well. Densi. Hope you enjoyed and there will be a part 2.

Thanks for the the prompt anon!

[arctimon]

Personal age hcs for some of the characters in the show?

The gang: Hiro - 14 (coming up on 15) Karmi - 16 (coming up on 17) Wasabi - 21 Go Go - 21 (turned 21 in January between semesters) Honey Lemon - 21 (a young 21, probably a Spring birthday) Fred - 22 (older than everyone else) Megan - 15 (as of April 19th) I imagine Hiro has a summer birthday, just because I want them to address it in the show.  It would also be hilarious if Karmi and Hiro had around the same (or literally the same) birthdays. As for the others: Aunt Cass - Late 30s/early 40s (I imagine she was young when she had to take care of Tadashi and Hiro) Granville - She’s the hardest to pin down because at the very least she’s been teaching for 20 years, but she didn’t look particularly old in her flashbacks.  But I’ll go with early 50s.  That way, she took a sizable break between her stints at SFIT. You know...doing stuff. Krei - 44 (Confirmed in “The Present”, which is younger than I thought it would be) Judy (just because) - Young 30s Diego - Same as Cass, but police work puts a strain on the wrinkles and hair. Everyone else from my stories: Aspen - 21 (as of December) Robbie - 20 (as of January) Peni - 14 (birthday is less than a week after Hiro’s) Doreen - 21 (as of May) Kate - 23 Can’t really think of anyone else that I can age.  I’m sure I’ll think of someone right after I post this.

[elleharperbcu]

Lifestyle

Critical thinking lectures:

How has lifestyle, industrial & social changes impacted fashion & textiles?

In today’s lecture we gained understanding of what has influenced and impacted fashion and textiles in the past, in order to predict what will happen to the fashion and textiles industries in the future.

We started by exploring historical aspects that have driven these changes, to start to interpret the significance that these influential factors will play on the future of the fashion & textile industries.

We watched a video on YouTube called “100 years of fashion: women” Published on 3 jun 2015. Were we discussed as a group what drives these changes.

The growth of the fashion industry, caused by the industrial revolution (1870-1900s) enabled the suffragettes to use fashion as a form of branding to help promote their cause.

“They are, of course, only following in the honourable tradition set over a century ago by the suffragettes, who harnessed fashion, and the meaning of colour, as methods of communication in the early days of photography. In 1908 Emmeline Pethick-Lawrence devised the scheme of purple for dignity, white for purity and green for hope - branding for the cause, which triggered Liberty and Selfridges to start selling ranges of tricolour ribbon, underwear, bags and soap. Christina Broom…documented marches of thousands of suffragists and suffragettes wearing white dresses designed to prove to the country the dignity of their cause.”

The Guardian Cally Blackman 8.10.15 How the Suffragettes used fashion to further the cause. 

https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2015/oct/08/suffragette-style-movement-embraced-fashion-branding

1940’s

Utility Clothing Scheme: aimed to save fabric by using economical designs, eliminating laborious technical details and limiting the choice of fabrics - all to save costs.

BBC News 5.3.2015 How did WW2 change the way people dressed?

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-31719704

1942

“Make Do and Mend was a pamphlet issued by the British Ministry of Information in the midst of WWII. It was intended to provide housewives with useful tips on how to be both frugal and stylish in times of harsh rationing. With its thrifty design ideas and advice on reusing old clothing, the pamphlet was an indispensable guide for households. Readers were advised to create pretty ‘decorative patches’ to cover holes in warm garments; unpick old jumpers to re-knit chic alternatives; turn men’s clothes into women’s; as well as darn, alter and protect against the ‘moth menace’. 

Manage with and repair the possessions one already has rather than buying replacements. "the austerity of the war years taught her to make do and mend" British Library, Learning resources https://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item106365.html

Examples of “make do and mend” women’s suit made out of a man’s pin stripe suit, a child’s cloak made from an old blanket.

BBC News 5.3.2015 How did WW2 change the way people dressed? Fashion on the Ration is at the Imperial War Museum, London, until 31 August 2015.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-31719704

The “New Look” exploded in Paris in 1947 (in contrast to the utilitarian approach adopted in the war) lead by the pioneering designer Christian Dior, who empowered women through fashion. 

“Throughout the war, cloth and labour shortages had limited the amount of fabric and trimming that could be used… jackets had been masculine, shoulders square and skirts short and straight… belts, seams, collars and trouser turn-ups had to conform to certain restrictions …” Yet, only two years after the end of the war, here were ankle-length skirts whose hems measured up to 40 metres in circumference. Here was a fashion that emphasised femininity, with rounded shoulders, waists nipped in tight, and hips and busts exaggerated by bodices and padding. 

The New Looks striking stylistic legacy lived on well into the 1960s.

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/news/the-look-that-shocked-the-world-1278048.html

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/fashion/events/how-haute-couture-rescued-war-torn-paris/

”Women, with their sure instincts, realized that my intention was to make not just more beautiful but also happier,” said Dior: A businessman as well as a poet, he made fashion responsible for expressing society's desires, and  showed it how to communicate…” ref book Dior

My weakness ... is architecture. I think of my work as ephemeral architecture, dedicated to the beauty of the female body.

http://www.catwalkyourself.com/fashion-history/1950s-1960s/

Assouline publishing 2004 Dior Marie - France Pochna

Working in groups based on the following decades: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s and 2000s. In our group we researched fashion in the 2000s. We made a mind map that considered the above influencing factors that have impacted on the fashion designers from this decade. We recorded the effect of these causes and how they have driven the design, materials and production at this time. 

2000s Fashion:

Casual clothing and leisurewear were big trends in the early 2000s, a casual look for women would have been, crop tops, hoodies, low-rise flared jeans, cargo pants, daisy dukes, jean skirts, off the shoulder tops, ribbed sweaters, with platform sandals, ugg boots, or sneakers. 

After researching I found technology and Y2K bug (problem in the coding of computerized systems that was projected to create havoc in computers and computer networks around the world at the beginning of the year 2000) had a huge impact on fashion in the early 2000s. The colour palette was full of shiny black tones and reflective metallics. The Y2K trend was worn on a daily but mainly reserved for going out. Popular outfits for women included mesh or handkerchief tops, box-pleated or leather skirts, shiny pants, and sparkly shoes. Britney Spears was a trendsetter for this type of style. For men, Y2K looks involved leather jackets, a statement dress shirt, and chunky shoes. 

Mid 2000s fashion - Fashion started to take cues from 1960s bohemian looks. Yoga pants, low-rise jeans, cowl-neck shirts, peasant tops, capri pants, cropped jackets, and dresses over jeans was a popular outfit choice for women. These outfits were paired with accessories, such as, chunky belts, aviator sunglasses, jelly bracelets, ties worn around the neck or as belts, ballet flats, and platform boots. The 1960s revival looks were also popular with men. Including light wash bootcut jeans, cargo shorts, classic rock t-shirt, fitted cowboy shirts, henleys, polos with popped collars, and seersucker suits. 

Late 2000s fashion - For women, crop tops were replaced with camisoles and miniskirts, bubble skirt, and sweater dresses. There was also a 1980s and 1990s revival of neon colours, animal prints, geometric shapes, light denim jeggings, and ripped acid washed jeans that were worn with gladiator sandals, ballet flats, and headbands. The oversized look became popular, but it was more subtle than the traditional 80s fit. Men’s late 2000s fashion was a mix of 1950s and 1980s throwbacks, with letterman and black leather jackets, overcoats, slim cut jeans, Ed Hardy t-shirts, flannel shirts, and V-neck sweaters. Paired with dad hats, wayfarers or aviators, motorcycle boots, converse, vans, or sneakers. 

Hip-Hop had a influence on the 2000s fashion, many rappers influenced fashion with their own clothing lines. Including Jay-Z, Diddy, Nelly, and 50 Cent. Many looks included baggy jeans, tall t-shirts, sports jerseys, velour suits, bubble jackets, and puffer vests paired with headbands, sweatshirts, Timberland boots, and sneakers like Adidas Superstars or Nike Air Force 1s. 

Streetwear is brand focused casual clothing, like jeans, tees, and sneakers. In the late 2000s popular streetwear styles included distressed skinny jeans, loose fitting tops, loose or fitted tracksuits, track pants, hoodies, graphic t-shirts, vintage thrift shop tees, and Tommy Hilfiger and U.S. Polo Assn brands. Sneakers were an important part of the style, retro Nike Air Jordans and Adidas Yeezys. 

Emo fashion became popular in the mid 2000s and took cues from goth and punk styles. Outfits were often all or mainly black with skinny jeans, band t-shirts, studded belts, and checkered vans. Every emo look was completed with the right hairstyle, choppy cuts with long side-swept bangs dyed black, platinum blonde, or a bright colour. 

Athleisure Wear - If you wanted to be comfortable yet fashionable in the early 2000s the velor tracksuits was the go to. Britney Spears, Beyonce and Eminem to Diddy were on on the tracksuit craze. They were brightly coloured and emblazoned with rhinestone logos and phrases. It was also in to mix track pants with dress clothing and design shoes to elevate the look. 

The Beatles were one of the most influential bands in history, taking their fans on a journey of fashion styles through the decades from rock to teddy boys to hippie years.

(1962-1964) - (1964-1966)

Did technology play a part in influencing this style?

During this lecture we watched a video called The Beatles Yellow Submarine. 

Exaggerated shoulder pads epitomises the Power Dressing of the 1980’s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uOlwwoZLoKE&feature=youtu.be

In the 1980s Power Dressing in the UK grew from a new money focused generation, in London, creating a bee style. This look was patented by shows such as Dynasty and Dallas, where actors such as Joan Collins and Linda Evans dressed as female power dresses. Shoulder-pads and sharply tailored suits ruled and has been continued to be used by women today to signify power.

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/features/what-is-power-dressing-1807353.html

THATCHER USED FASHION AS A POLITICAL TOOL

“With ‘power dressing’ she could tap into the image of a career woman but her reputation as a fierce leader then drove her to wear clothes that might ‘soften’ her image, which was why she wore pussy bow blouses. A symbol of the past reflecting a more conservative femininity, the pussy bow blouse clashed with the aggressive power suits. “This was the paradox of the Thatcher image: at once she sought to embody conservative values while also seeking to assert her right to power as a woman. Dr Tyan”

https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/margaret-thatcher-clothes-dress-suits-power-dressing-fashion-impact-women-victoria-and-albert-museum-a7480026.html

Margaret Thatcher: Fashion as a Political Tool

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qynZ0NEHH4M&feature=youtu.be

How did Margaret Thatcher change Britain: 

Privatisation 

London became a leading financial capital 

Open all hours 

The decline of the north 

Lessened role of trade unions 

Northern Ireland peace process 

Education reforms – league tables 

Home ownership 

Power dressing

Prestige for armed forces (Falklands)

Transformed Labour party 

Julian Coman Sun 14 Apr 2013 10.00 BST https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2013/apr/14/margaret-thatcher-20-changes-britain 

My own research on Margaret Thatcher -

When looking at pictures of Margaret Thatcher, after the election in 1979, a well-dressed woman with her individual style is clearly shown. She began to create her image and appearance as an example of how women in power should dress. Thatcher was a confident and stern business woman however there was a clear contrast to the feminine clothing she wore. She used her clothing and style as an act of self - definition that disguised herself from others showing her individual identity as Prime Minister. Thatcher styled herself appropriately for political occasions, the most occuring colour Thatcher wore was royal blue. With her power suits and the legendary pussybow blouses, that made her a fashion icon, she was known for her haircut, her pearls, and her handbag. Her hairstyle was one of the famous features of Margaret Thatcher, as straight and precise as the lady herself. 

One great example on how her style, outfits and political power were set together was before she became Prime Minister. Thatcher wore hats because not only they suited her well but were symbols of her status and class. As the leader of a major political party, her hats seemed to be a political problem. It was a problem because middle class people with conventional attitudes were prejudiced towards her. This was not the picture of a leader the party wanted to draw. Consequently, after her election to British Prime Minister she only wore hats for State ceremonies and foreign tours but not on polictail occasions anymore.  

The Fashion World Supports Pussy Riot 

Fashion empowered to dictate and influence world events and social changes 

17th April 2015 Jamie Waters Fashion’s most iconic political statements; The fashion world supports pussy riot & we’d rather go naked than wear fur.

https://www.dazeddigital.com/fashion/article/24414/1/fashion-s-most-iconic-political-statements 

https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/clothing-fashion-protest

In pairs with reference to the timeline identify another advancement in technology that has impacted on social events, which in turn has driven a change in the fashion industry? 

....

Brand Report

In groups we researched information about the brand Lazy Oaf, we created a detailed report which covers each of the 8 elements that make a band pitch. These elements include: Vision & purpose, brand identity, customer, price, product, place, promotion and  packaging. In our group we decided to each choose an element to research and talk about, I picked promotion. 

Lazy Oaf’s Brand Identity is definitely something I would take away and incorporate into our brand. We want to create personal products that our customers love and respect. Minimize environmental hazards through being sustainable but with fair prices. We also discussed as a group giving back to charities with a percentage of money we make as a brand. 

This group task gave us practice with working together, assigning roles and discussing information online. We decided to split the work fairly so that everyone had an equal amount of work to research and present. As we had to present this group task to our peers it helped us practice for when we present our brand.