#wardrobe items

[bookshelfdreams]

yk when you see someone share a finished handmade item that they clearly spent a lot of time and money on and it's just. The absolute tackiest thing you have seen in your life. And then you ask yourself why someone would waste all those resources on such an eyesore.

(no, of course you can't relate to that because you're a much nicer person than me)

In any case.

BEHOLD!

A wool coat!

The top fabric is handwoven and handspun, the whole thing is sewn by hand, too.

Leftovers. Barely anything, all things considered, which is very satisfying.

This thing took me well over 3 years to make, on and off. And now I'm done.

Thank you for your attention.

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The ache will go away, eventually. 

That was what the Professor told them, the day they got back. When they tumbled from the wardrobe in a heap of tangled limbs, and found that the world had been torn from under their feet with all the kindness of a serpent. 

They picked themselves off of the floorboards with smiles plastered on child faces, and sat with the Professor in his study drinking cup after cup of tea. 

But the smiles were fake. The tea was like ash on their tongues. And when they went to bed that night, none of them could sleep in beds that were too foreign, in bodies that had not been their own for years. Instead they grouped into one room and sat on the floor and whispered, late into the night. 

When morning came, Mrs. Macready discovered the four of them asleep in Peter and Edmund’s bedroom, tangled in a heap of pillows and blankets with their arms looped across one another. They woke a few moments after her entry and seemed confused, lost even, staring around the room with pale faces, eyes raking over each framed painting on the wall and across every bit of furniture as if it was foreign to them. “Come to breakfast,” Mrs. Macready said as she turned to go, but inside she wondered. 

For the children’s faces had held the same sadness that she saw sometimes in the Professor’s. A yearning, a shock, a numbness, as if their very hearts had been ripped from their chests.

At breakfast Lucy sat huddled between her brothers, wrapped in a shawl that was much too big for her as she warmed her hands around a mug of hot chocolate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat and kept reaching up to his hair as if to feel for something that was no longer there. Susan pushed her food idly around on her plate with her fork and hummed a strange melody under her breath. And Peter folded his hands beneath his chin and stared at the wall with eyes that seemed much too old for his face. 

It chilled Mrs. Macready to see their silence, their strangeness, when only yesterday they had been running all over the house, pounding through the halls, shouting and laughing in the bedrooms. It was as if something, something terrible and mysterious and lengthy, had occurred yesterday, but surely that could not be. 

She remarked upon it to the Professor, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. “They’ll be all right,” he said, but she wasn’t so sure. 

They seemed so lost. 

Lucy disappeared into one of the rooms later that day, a room that Mrs. Macready knew was bare save for an old wardrobe of the professor’s. She couldn’t imagine what the child would want to go in there for, but children were strange and perhaps she was just playing some game. When Lucy came out again a few minutes later, sobbing and stumbling back down the hall with her hair askew, Mrs. Macready tried to console her, but Lucy found no comfort in her arms. “It wasn’t there,” she kept saying, inconsolable, and wouldn’t stop crying until her siblings came and gathered her in their arms and said in soothing voices, “Perhaps we’ll go back someday, Lu.” 

Go back where, Mrs. Macready wondered? She stepped into the room Lucy had been in later on in the evening and looked around, but there was nothing but dust and an empty space where coats used to hang in the wardrobe. The children must have taken them recently and forgotten to return them, not that it really mattered. They were so old and musty and the Professor had probably forgotten them long ago. But what could have made the child cry so? Try as she might, Mrs. Macready could find no answer, and she left the room dissatisfied and covered in dust. 

Lucy and Edmund and Peter and Susan took tea in the Professor’s room again that night, and the next, and the next, and the next. They slept in Peter and Edmund’s room, then Susan and Lucy’s, then Peter and Edmund’s again and so on, swapping every night till Mrs. Macready wondered how they could possibly get any sleep. The floor couldn’t be comfortable, but it was where she found them, morning after morning. 

Each morning they looked sadder than before, and breakfast was silent. Each afternoon Lucy went into the room with the wardrobe, carrying a little lion figurine Edmund had carved her, and came out crying a little while later. And then one day she didn’t, and went wandering in the woods and fields around the Professor’s house instead. She came back with grassy fingers and a scratch on one cheek and a crown of flowers on her head, but she seemed content. Happy, even. Mrs. Macready heard her singing to herself in a language she’d never heard before as Lucy skipped past her in the hall, leaving flower petals on the floor in her wake. Mrs. Macready couldn’t bring herself to tell the child to pick them up, and instead just left them where they were. 

More days and nights went by. One day it was Peter who went into the room with the wardrobe, bringing with him an old cloak of the Professor’s, and he was gone for quite a while. Thirty or forty minutes, Mrs. Macready would guess. When he came out, his shoulders were straighter and his chin lifted higher, but tears were dried upon his cheeks and his eyes were frightening. Noble and fierce, like the eyes of a king. The cloak still hung about his shoulders and made him seem almost like an adult. 

Peter never went into the wardrobe room again, but Susan did, a few weeks later. She took a dried flower crown inside with her and sat in there at least an hour, and when she came out her hair was so elaborately braided that Mrs. Macready wondered where on earth she had learned it. The flower crown was perched atop her head as she went back down the hall, and she walked so gracefully that she seemed to be floating on the air itself. In spite of her red eyes, she smiled, and seemed content to wander the mansion afterwards, reading or sketching or making delicate jewelry out of little pebbles and dried flowers Lucy brought her from the woods. 

More weeks went by. The children still took tea in the Professor’s study on occasion, but not as often as before. Lucy now went on her daily walks outdoors, and sometimes Peter or Susan, or both of them at once, accompanied her. Edmund stayed upstairs for the most part, reading or writing, keeping quiet and looking paler and sadder by the day. 

Finally he, too, went into the wardrobe room. 

He stayed for hours, hours upon hours. He took nothing in save for a wooden sword he had carved from a stick Lucy brought him from outside, and he didn’t come out again. The shadows lengthened across the hall and the sun sank lower in the sky and finally Mrs. Macready made herself speak quietly to Peter as the boy came out of the Professor’s study. “Your brother has been gone for hours,” she told him crisply, but she was privately alarmed, because Peter’s face shifted into panic and he disappeared upstairs without a word. 

Mrs. Macready followed him silently after around thirty minutes and pressed an ear to the door of the wardrobe room. Voices drifted from beyond. Edmund’s and Peter’s, yes, but she could also hear the soft tones of Lucy and Susan. 

“Why did he send us back?” Edmund was saying. It sounded as if he had been crying.  

Mrs. Macready couldn’t catch the answer, but when the siblings trickled out of the room an hour later, Edmund’s wooden sword was missing, and the flower crown Susan had been wearing lately was gone, and Peter no longer had his old cloak, and Lucy wasn’t carrying her lion figurine, and the four of them had clasped hands and sad, but smiling, faces. 

Mrs. Macready slipped into the room once they were gone and opened the wardrobe, and there at the bottom were the sword and the crown and the cloak and the lion. An offering of sorts, almost, or perhaps just items left there for future use, for whenever they next went into the wardrobe room.  

But they never did, and one day they were gone for good, off home, and the mansion was silent again. And it had been a long time since that morning that Mrs. Macready had found them all piled together in one bedroom, but ever since then they hadn’t quite been children, and she wanted to know why.

She climbed the steps again to the floor of the house where the old wardrobe was, and then went into the room and crossed the floor to the opposite wall. 

When she pulled the wardrobe door open, the four items the Pevensie children had left inside of it were missing. 

And just for a moment, it seemed to her that a cool gust of air brushed her face, coming from the darkness beyond where the missing coats used to hang.

[urghblergh]

Tailoring clothes is an intimate business. ✨

[moeblob]

Deviates to wear colorful shirts.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #8

The Thai 🤝🏽 Taiwanese Communal Wardrobe Item #5

Our skyy 2 x The Eclipse ep 6:

Step by Step ep 7:

Dangerous Romance ep 10:

Only Friends ep 12:

Wandee Goodday ep 4:

Wandee Goodday ep 4:

Knock Knock, Boys! ep 11:

The On1y One ep 6:

Sunset x Vibes special ep:

Peaceful Property ep 9:

for @akkrosu and @lurkingshan 💙

[chaos-wanderer]

in season 8A, I really want either buck or eddie to show up at the other’s house and, when they come in, go “is that my shirt?” or hoodie or whatever—I need them to acknowledge they casually share clothes before they’re even dating

[shadowseductress]

WARDROBE CHECKLIST:

TOPS: white/black t-shirt crop top white/black blouse tank top Cotton Oxford Silk Blouse Dressy Tank Silk Camisole camisole denim shirt dressy top bodysuit flannel shirt long sleeved top patterned top

BOTTOMS: cargo pant baggy pant straight leg jean skinny jean slim jean wide leg jean trouser soft fabric pant leather pant denim short denim skirt silk skirt cotton shorts wide leg trouser Black Cigarette Pants Khaki Trousers Pencil Skirt Cotton Mini Skirt Jeans Mini Skirt midi skirt Capri pants Linen shorts

JACKETS/ LAYERING:

Trench coat Leather jacket Blazer Cardigan Denim jacket Parka Tweed jacket Cornel wool coat Down jacket turtleneck sweater crew neck fitted sweater cable knit sweater dressy or fun sweater oversized sweater patterned sweater puffer coat rain jacket (waterproof) denim jacket

SHOES:

athletic sneakers everyday shoes Ballet Flats Loafers Sneakers Sandals Black Pumps Colorful Heels Tall Brown Boots Tall Black Boots Brown Booties Black Booties Rainboots Natural-Colored Heels

JEWELRY/ACCESSORIES:

skinny belt belt with buckle waist chain scarf hat/cap hoops drop down earring statement earring classic chain necklace go-to simple ring classic watch sunglasses stud earrings silk scarf

DRESSES: little black dress silk slip dress casual summer dress floral dress cocktail dress maxi dress wrap Dress evening Gown shirt dress knit dress

HANDBAGS:

waterproof bag leather tote crossbody bag shoulder bag or clutch statement bag backpack

[eljeebee]

“Are there any vampires like me outside Selvadorada?”

Lavender looked up from her food.

Kasvhi sat with her that late morning for breakfast, or brunch in this case. Lavender had slept in, and when she woke up, she panicked, thinking that she might be late for training. Luckily, it wasn’t the case. She found Kashvi keeping clean sheets inside one of the cupboards in the bedroom. The vampire had smiled at her and explained that the Seekers let her sleep a little longer; they had to go to the temple and commune with the Watcher again.

She saw how her brows slightly knitted at the mention of the Watcher or communing with the Watcher. Lavender did not press her further.

So here she is, eating her breakfast, accompanied by Kashvi. The vampire monicus is sweet, and she would always sit down at dinner with everyone, even if all she drinks is crimson tea (it’s a tea made from the plasma fruit from the very peculiar plasma tree in the courtyard garden). It feels awkward to Lavender though, because she could sometimes feel Kashvi just watching her eat, and when she’s looking, the vampire would just gaze through nothing, but Lavender knows that those pink and green eyes contain deep thoughts, like they’re watching something else, like the past…reminiscing.

Everyone else had their breakfast already. Raul, accompanied by Diego, had to go down to the village to sell his custom-made jewelry, candles, and the spare harvest the monastery set aside, and mail the artifacts that Lakandiwa and Kashvi had authenticated. He would also buy more food stocks. Lakandiwa is now doing his archeology work, while Chief Song tends the garden.

Kashvi smiled at her. Her lips curling up further, reminding Lavender of the question the vampire asked, as if to say, Well?

“There are vampires like you, some new, I think, but there are some that are ancients, from what I’ve heard.”

“An ancient!” Kashvi sighed dreamily, “Just like me…I might know them! Who are they?”

“Just like you?”

“It’s a long story. I was once considered the princess of our Vampiric Family, and the Babaylan as well. I had to flee, deep in the jungle, and defend Omisca against Circle Mages.”

Circle Mages again. Who are they? I should ask the Seekers.

Kashvi continued, “From then on, I never let Belomisia. I vowed to protect Selvadorada. I formed the Selvadorada Temple Order, you know.”

“Temple Order?”

“Yes. The monici here? They’re part of my Order. They help protect not only the temples and ruins here, but also the history and culture. We get a lot of tourists, and with our policies, we help preserve the Omiscan ruins.”

“That’s great work Kashvi,” Lavender smiled. She finally answered the vampire’s question, “The ancient vampire I know is Vladislaus Straud. He has three offsprings, Caleb and Lilith Vatore, and Helen Straud. The other ancients are Valentina Asvang, and Lana Beau. I have never talked to the other two though.”

Her thoughts drifted to Percival Asvang, whom she encountered the night before her flight to Selvadorada.

The thought vanished when Kashvi said, “Oh, I know him. Vladislaus Straud of the Straud Coven. I’m not familiar with the last two you mentioned, but I know the names–Asvang and Beau. They’re also in his coven, from what I know.”

Her face was unreadable.

“Have you ever talked to Mr. Straud?” Lavender inquired.

Kashvi shook her head. “Our Family had duties here. Our Coven was Tomarang and Selvadorada, you see. We serve the people and the Watcher, live in temples. We’ve received letters from his coven, and we would often send representatives there. I wish I could talk to him. I know we have a similar…”

Her words hung in the air.

“Where is he now?” Kashvi asked instead, “Is he in the same city you live? Myshuno, is it?”

Similar what? Lavender thought. She said, “Yes. He lives in San Myshuno, along with the Beau and the Asvang.”

“So he’s no longer in…” Kashvi shook her head. “Nevermind. After you eat, let’s do something fun!”

“We apologize for starting your training late, my child,” Mata said, “the Watcher called us.”

“That’s okay,” Lavender joked, “At least I was able to sleep more.”

The Seekers wore different attires today. Same dark fabrics, but a little lighter to wear. Lavender thought, Well, it is hot today…but why did Seeker Mata also wear lighter clothes? Do vampires even feel hot? Or did he just want to match with Seeker Iris?

“I will train you today. I will teach you fighter stances–stances that you may use when fighting with the Gift. With that power, your whole body is a weapon,” Mata continued, “you cannot use your wand when harnessing the Gift. It will break your wand.”

Iris nodded, “I, for one, never preferred using a wand. It is too restricting. Though, I have tried using it; to test the power She gave us. The wand exploded.”

Lavender gulped. Her wand was a parting gift by the Sages, who fashioned the light wood with a purple gemstone that she loves. She would cry if it broke.

The dull ache from yesterday’s sparring amplified when she had to hold her position, as the Second Seeker criticized her stance. “Your shoulders are sagging,” he sternly said, “fix that.”

Lavender let out a groan.

[laughffy]

baby’s got the blues in his pink electric shoes

[ineed-to-sleep]

@alongtidesoflight tagged me in his poll so I'm making one too :3

The items in question:

I'm tagging @boghermit @crownedinmarigolds @its-sixxers @waspgrave @dannyburke @svampira @seldaryne and anyone else who wants to do this!!

[draculiza]

I'm going thrifting after work today and I'm already so excited! hopefully I'll find some fun things

[apartmentsmoke]

y'all I'm sorry that is not the same shirt 😭 the one Oliver is wearing doesn't have a button where the date night shirt did and the fabric is different

(that said I am still going to believe that Buck liked how the shirt looked in Tommy so much he bought a similar one for himself and Tommy is very charmed by it and loves how Buck looks in it)

[nights-at-crystarium]

wolqotd

Living spaces. Is your WoL tidy and organized, or are they the type to casually create mess and chaos around them?

[jasminesilk]

Melody Darling 🌷 New Everyday Outfits

She cut her hair and updated her wardrobe now that she's an adult. The sweater with the scarf is actually something she knitted herself!

[raiiny-bay]

he's a fashionable man

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #3

Don't Say No ep 5:

Bad Buddy ep 5:

Enchanté ep 10:

Even Sun ep 6:

Vice Versa ep 8:

The Eclipse ep 8:

The Three Gentlebros ep 1:

The Eclipse ep 11:

A Boss and a Babe ep 4:

My Dear Gangster Oppa ep 3:

Middleman's Love ep 1: