#welcome to the 1900s!

[daily-keyboardsmasher]

Day 1900

THE 20TH CENTURY RAHHHHHHHH

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[javertisgay]

if I ever manage to own a house or flat the first thing i’m doing is making the bathroom polar disaster themed. like how people have beach/ocean themed bathrooms. but I’m hanging up ‘man proposes, god disposes’, the goodsir daguerreotype is gonna be there like a family portrait, i’m painting it the iciest colour blue possible and breaking the heating so it’s always cold as hell. every winter i’ll get to roleplay being sir john stuck down the ice hole

[horses-in-art-history]

Edgar Bundy, Death as general rides a horse on a battlefield, 1911, Welcome Collection.

(Picture source for Death as general rides a horse on a battlefield, second image is a cropped version of the same image)

[1unpunishable1]

Dream Kitchen

[honey-and-sims]

Autumn, 1900

For the rest of the day, Winifred worked quietly; still rather disoriented from her train being delayed that morning. Those sorts of things always seemed to put her in a strange mood, and Francis' genuine reassurance over her insecurities had only made it worse. She had never intended to lie to her coworkers about who she was; it was an honest mistake — when she filled out her application; she signed her maiden name, Monet, instead of Baudelaire and didn't notice until she was proof reading before handing it in; and she had truly had intended to change it. However, for a fleeting moment she thought, 'why can't I be someone else for a while? It would only be like playing a part,' and soon, she was posing herself as a 30-something year old spinster trying to make her own way in the world. There at the Windenburg Daily, she was not just Mrs. Baudelaire, a rich man's life, or a mother struggling to exist outside of that title. Of course, she considered the idea of explaining the mishap and coming clean. Except that, when she thought of how angry JJ, Terence, and especially Francis would be, she could never bring herself to try. As the years passed by, her double life had brought her the sense of self she'd been longing for. But she was no fool. She knew it was not a matter of if her folly would catch up to her, but when; and all she could do was hope that at the very least, she might publish a few stories beforehand and it would somehow be worth it.

next / previous / first

transcript below the cut

*click* *click* Winifred: oh, bullocks! *panting* I'm sorry I'm late, guys. My train was delayed Terence: Relax, Winnie; he isn't here yet Winifred: But, I hate- Francis: He's right, Win; you need to learn to relax a bit <the day goes on> *typewriter clicking* Francis: The days just get longer & longer. Winifred: Shhhh!!! Terenece: Here comes- JJ: *groggily* Good morning everyone. *in unison* Morning, JJ! Winifred: *mouthing* I forgot the coffee. JJ: Winnie, dear, my coffee? Winifred: Um, yes, I- Francis: She wanted you to try the coffee next door! Terence: She was just waiting for you to arrive. JJ: Ah, what a splendid idea! Winifred: Well, you know, I just thought with it being so chilly and all. JJ: Good thinking; Francis, go along with her. Francis: Yes, sir. Winifred: We won't be gone long. Francis: It smells so good in here. Two coffees, please. *liquid pouring* Winifred: I don't think I make a very good secretary. Thank you for covering for me back there. I don't know what I'd do without you and Terence. Barista: Two coffees, to-go! Francis: You know we like having you here, right? JJ, too. He likes you a lot. He's just... Winifred: Uptight? Francis: Well, I was going to say particular, but I suppose that is part of it, yes. And you're not a lousy secretary, okay? Terence and I understand it's a hard life for a spinster, but we don't see you that way. Always remember that. Winifred: Yeah...I-I will...

[patheticblorbloscholar]

If I become a second class citizen and all of my rights are completely stripped I will still write and be louder regardless. I am anxious as Trump becomes president again and project 2025 will take affect.

[jinxed-sinner]

Alright here's my full (possibly hot) take on redesigning Hazbin Hotel characters and making a video showcasing those redesigns while you criticize the official designs.

First and foremost, you are redesigning someone else's OCs. Hazbin Hotel is, in essence, a passion project for Viv. How she talks about it makes that incredibly clear to me. The only difference between Hazbin Hotel and, for example, the story I'm developing surrounding some of my D&D OCs is that Hazbin Hotel got picked up by a streaming service and is significantly more popular than most passsion projects get.

Personally if someone wanted to redesign my D&D OCs, I wouldn't mind it, in fact I'd probably think it was really cool that someone would want to redesign one of my OCs to be closer to their tastes in terms of what they like to draw. I would, however, be made incredibly uncomfortable if someone made a video redesigning them where they also pointed out everything they thought was wrong with the designs. I didn't design these specific D&D characters to be 1-to-1 accurate to their classes in D&D or to look professionally designed. I designed them how I wanted them to look for the story I'm telling because I don't plan to ever play them in a campaign. The main character Avlan is a paladin, and I can acknowledge that his design might not look exactly like a paladin. One of the tabaxi in the story (Ice) is a bard and the other (Spark) is a ranger, and I acknowledge that their classes might not come across well in their designs. The single tiefling I've designed for this story (Tragedy) is a cleric but might not come off as one in their design. But I specifically designed them to be easy for me to draw because I want to be able to tell this story through my art. Having someone say "oh, Avlan's armor isn't paladin enough!" or "Avlan's fur colors and patterns should be closer to a wild rabbit's because harengon shouldn't be based on domestic rabbit colors!" would fucking hurt (especially because I'm so attached to Avlan, but it would hurt just as much if similar comments were made about Ice, Spark, or Tragedy). I am so passionate about these characters and being told their designs are bad or wrong in some way would be like a stab in the heart, and it would still feel like a stab in the heart if this story ever got a massive fandom behind it. Giving Avlan more complex armor because you think it'd look cool or just want to see what it'd look like? Sure, if I could draw more complex armor I'd give him more complex armor too. Giving him more complex armor but also shitting on the armor I decide to draw him with? My motivation to draw him in his armor, potentially draw him period, would be dead for WEEKS.

Why is it suddenly okay just because someone's passion project was picked up by Amazon Prime? Why is it suddenly okay to be "fixing" someone's character designs just because the project has a much bigger budget than most artists get and is on a popular streaming service? It's not. I don't care if you're a professional character designer, or think a specific character would look better with certain traits, or just don't like the character designs.

Hazbin Hotel is still Vivienne Medrano's passion project, and redesigning her characters and making videos talking about everything you think is "wrong" with them is, honestly, disgusting. You can make videos explaining your choices in your redesigns without putting down the designs that already exist, whether you like them or not. Me thinking Lucifer looks better with his tail not restricted to his full demon form doesn't suddenly mean I don't like his official design, because I fucking love it. If you wouldn't do it to an artist whose passion project is just a webcomic here on Tumblr, don't fucking do it to an artist whose passion project got picked up for a cartoon by a big streaming service (or any company for that matter).

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatching 13s era for me is not so much diminishing returns as it is something opposite and eviler...............increasing losses? increasing losses

[arcsin27]

[wamtorical]

New years eve 1899 / 1900

Though the death of Ethel scarred Elmer and Claudia, December marked the 10 year anniversary of their wedding and they danced the night away in bliss as the children slept peacefully.

New years was the one occasion Jemima, Amos and Leroy were allowed to stay up, but as soon as the clock struck 12 they were ushered to go to sleep and celebrate the next day.

Over at the forgotten homestead, Charlotte and Diana celebrated the entire night - or morning - and they too slept like babies throughout the January afternoon.

Claudia reflected on the past decade. The 1890's changed both herself and Elmers lives, and while there were the natural bumps along the way, it all ended up being for the better. Still, she couldn't help but feel slightly worried for the 1900's - after all, it was a new century.

Current year: 1900

📜 next / previous / first

[justatiredwr1t3r]

Tw! Scopophobia!

I wonder who it is

[uniquezombiedestiny]

hastily scrawled warning note?

hastily scrawled warning note: if you could go back and change one decision you made in the game, what would it be?

oh man. oh man

(spoilers for the blind pianists story below)

thats tough........ i immediately think of the comtessa and blind pianist... i wish i couldve solved the conflict so bad or at least let elise live, but mae never shared her secrets at all. elise literally had the carmen charm on mae and me. i miss her so bad

also on the comtessa... the choice i made. it hurts me so bad. but i wouldnt change it o7

it is a bit meta to go back and change the pianist storyline, since i only knew this after i did it, but. i feasibly could have a way for mae to betray (then reconcile) them so the pianist doesnt die. and that haunts me

otherwise, hm. honestly tough to think of anything id change yet, other than where angels scar comes from (a facial scar from her dueling in the fighting rings). i can easily retcon it though so yknow (item exists but eh. its not much lol)

[technically-human]

Welcome to the reverse verse! This is part 1 of 2 of a commission for @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are and I can't wait to tell you all about it, because I'm incapable of being normal and chill about these concepts, so I ran with it.

Charles Rowland was born in 1900, his mum was from India and moved to the UK after marrying Charles' dad, a soldier who was not... very loving. Charles' heritage gave him some problems, but none as bad as that one time in 1916 when he was sacrificed to a demon and spent the next 7 decades in Hell. He doesn't like to talk about it, except when it can get him what he wants. He was always an angry boy, or so he thought, but after his time spent in Hell, it became so much worse. He's explosive and unpredictable, and so he mostly avoids conflict. He doesn't need to fight anyone, as his charming personality and sweet smile (plus a few smart calculations) always seem to be enough to convince people to give him what he asks for. And when the fight is inevitable... well, he has Edwin for that!

Edwin Payne grew up very sheltered, in a deeply religious home, and he is proud of that. Don't try to argue with him, because he surely has a Bible verse that will help him win (and if not, he is not above using his croquet mallet now that he has someone to keep safe). Unfortunately for him, he realized at a quite young age that he felt attraction towards other boys. Even worse, somehow other people could tell as well, including those peers that ended up killing him for it (the rumour spread throughout school was that he had died due to AIDS, and most people just accepted it). He never acted on those unnatural urges of his, but when he met this ghost who had just escaped Hell... he decided not to risk eternal damnation, and to stay here with Charles, instead. Edwin has no interest in the supernatural or in magic, and sort of looks down on them, but luckily his friend's got that covered.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Regarding silhouettes being key to recreating a certain decade's look and vibe: do you have any useful references for larger-bodied people? As a fat transmasc, I struggle to find my body type represented in historical fashion illustrations. Anything around the 1940's/50's/60's would be especially appreciated, as well as general-purpose advice for plus-size vintage aspirations. Thank you!

I don't have specific resources, but welcome folks to chime in. My two main observations, though:

1) Finding true vintage in your size may be tough, because larger garments tend to see the most wear and alterations over time. Read up on "survivorship bias" on why people think the past was only populated by skinny people, when it was nothing of the sort.

2) When sold as a set, men's suits have a 6" spread between chest and waist measurements. I rarely find a trans masc who fits a ready-made suit. So, when buying new vintage, shop for seperates.

That said, I did find this article about the evolution of Big & Tall men's sizing. It has a lot of vintage photos of fat men in casual and dressy attire, plus shopping recommendations. If you want more style examples, I'd suggest zeroing in on some of the fat celebs of the day and look for more photos.

(Quick warning - looks like this article has auto-generated ads, so you might see some weightloss garbage.)

If you are on Facebook, I regularly see large guys post in this vintage menswear group (as well as transmasc folks). People tend to just share their fits, but I'm sure there will be plenty of fat guys who can give you some good recommendations.

Hope that helps!

[bunnykissses]

URGENT COMMISSIONS

hello, i opened this account because my city Valencia (spain) got flooded, we have more than 200 dead people and more than 1900 missing.

Im opening fanfic comissions to donate all the money to the animal shelters that got destroyed

Rules

- Scenarios, reaction and headcanons: max 3 characters > 1€ donation

- Fanfic x reader/ship > 1€ each 1k words

- Will write nsfw and sfw, everything is welcomed

- You can either pay me through paypal or donating directly to the shelter

I write for:

enstars, saiki, haikyuu, twisted wonderland, tokyo revengers, jjk, csm, obey me, aot, more! just ask me!

[musings-of-a-rose]

Could I request Benny x female reader where they engage in mutual masturbation and they make out throughout?

Touch

Pairing: Benny Miller x best friend f!reader

Word Count: 1900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen. This was a hot ask. I'll admit, I had to think on this one a bit (and that was mostly staring at the wall). A huge thanks to @mermaidxatxheart as usual for listening to my Ted Talks and insecurities.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“The date went bad I take it?” Benny’s eyebrows are raised as he motions for me to come inside his apartment. He closes the door behind me as I huff.

“He kept taking out his phone and texting. His mom. He was giving her a play by play of our date.”

Benny chuckled. “What? During your date?”

I kick off my heels and set them on his shoe mat. “I’m all for strong family bonds, but maybe wait until after the date? I could barely talk to him. It was literally every 2 minutes.”

Benny chuckled again. “Well I’m sorry it sucked. You’re welcome to come finish this terrible movie I’m watching.”

I follow Benny to his couch, plopping down next to him. We’d been best friends for years. He was always someone I could count on to be there for me, good or bad. He never judged or questioned me, but somehow always seemed to have an answer to my problems. He hands me a drink and offers me some popcorn from the giant bowl in his lap. I grab a handful and watch whatever b horror movie is on the tv. 

“Ugh even the ugly ass monster in this bad movie is getting laid why can’t I?”

Benny coughs, choking a little on his popcorn. “What?”

Fuck, I said that out loud. 

“I uh…nothing.”

He takes a swig from his drink, clearing the last of the popcorn. “Afraid no one will touch you again?”

I groan, but I’m also desperate for advice. “No. Well…maybe. It’s not even sex. I just want someone to touch me again. Someone that’s not me or Henry Cavill.”

Benny laughs, his head flying back. “You know Henry Cavill?”

I can feel the heat on my cheeks, but I’ve already said it. “That’s…that’s the name of my vibrator.” His laughter is contagious and I can’t stop myself from smiling. He makes some quips about it and then something happens in the movie that captures our attention. 

“I can help you with that if you’d like.”

My head snaps in his direction. “What?” Did he just offer to…surely not.

He turns his head, his bright blue eyes boring into mine, a sparkle in them. “I can help you with your problem.”

Heat burns my cheeks and I’m grasping at words. Surely he doesn’t mean…he can’t…without thinking, I glance down at his hands, the grip on his bottle, and how small it looks in them. I swallow hard.

“Ben, be serious.”

He leans forward, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he places his bottle on the coffee table before sitting back, casually laying an arm across the back of the couch as if he didn’t just suggest shoving his hand down my pants. 

“I’m serious, sweetheart. Look, you’ve had a really rough go of it. And I would make sure you were taken care of. You’re too pent up. Let some steam out.”

I shift slightly in my seat, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. It’s not that I’ve never thought about it. Benny is extremely attractive. I just never would ever think he’d be ok with that with me. For me? I can’t even think. 

“Ben…I can’t lose your friendship. That would break me.”

He extends a long finger from the hand that’s across the back of the couch and pokes my head. “Do you think I’d ever let that happen?”

I swat at his hand out of reflex. “Is that something we could control though?”

He thinks for a moment. “It’s us. We’re best friends. We take care of each other. I think we’d be fine.”

“But what if it changes everything?”

He takes my hand in his large one, completely engulfing me. He looks into my eyes and does that thing where his eyebrows pull together and makes me melt. “I promise to not let it change the way I feel about you. Do you promise?”

Could I make that promise? The not-so-minor crush I’ve harbored for him for years is begging. Your feelings won’t change because you already like him. 

“How would…I mean, what would you…”

Benny shifts to face me better. “I’d touch you however you need me to. Maybe make out a little bit if you need to be distracted.”

I press my thighs together, hoping that he didn’t notice. But judging by the way he shifts and his eyes darken slightly, I think he very much noticed. Pressing my thighs together did nothing to quell the heat, my body begging me to just let me be touched. I feel safe with Benny and I know he’d never cross a line. My skin is hot thinking about it and I finally cave, promising myself that we’d still be friends. Just friends that gave each other a hand sometimes. 

Before I can talk myself out of it, I nod, moving to undo the button on my pants. Benny reaches out and stills my hand with his own and I look up at him.

“I need you to say it out loud, sweetheart.”

I swallow hard, trying my best to give him eye contact. Were his eyes always so blue? 

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what? I need specifics.”

I let out a huff and this fucker chuckles. “Touch me, Benny. I..want you to touch me.”

Benny scoots closer to me on the couch, his leg pressed against mine. His large hand cups my cheek as he dips his head close to mine, his breath puffing out over my face, fanning the anticipatory fire between my thighs. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers. 

“Yes.” 

I barely get it out before his lips are on mine, soft but guiding, his tongue gently probing at my lips. I open them and his tongue slides inside my mouth, gracefully dancing with my own as he moans slightly into me. Both of his hands are on my face now, cupping my cheeks as he continues to kiss me. Then one moves to the back of my head, slightly gripping my hair as he tips my head back, exposing my neck to him. I gasp as his teeth skirt along my skin, gently nipping and kissing along my pulse point. The hand that isn’t entangled in my hair starts to glide down my body, barely even fumbling as he unbuttons my pants. But he doesn’t touch me. Not yet. Over my jeans, he caresses my inner thighs as I spread my legs, tracing the line where my underwear sits, up and down, up and down, driving me mad. My heart is racing, pounding against my ears. I feel him pause just above my mound and I want to cry. 

“Can you slide your pants off for me?” He breathes into my ear. My hands fumble as I try to shove and kick my pants off, ignoring the smirk on Benny’s face as the pants land somewhere across the room. 

“Panties too. Promise I won’t look.” He covers his face, a large gap between his fingers where his eye is obviously looking out. 

“Don’t you need to see?”

He closes the gap in his fingers but keeps his eyes covered. “Nope. Your sounds will guide me to where I need to be.”

Fuck. Me.

I toss my underwear somewhere by my pants. “Ok I’m-”

I have no time to think because he’s back on me, kissing me hard, like he’s never needed anything so bad. My fingers tangle in his hair, the cool air from his apartment hitting my bare skin, but I don’t care. Benny’s large hand is on my inner thighs again, tracing circles, but also pushing them open. I keep them where he leaves them, my body practically shaking with anticipation.

One long finger slides down me and I jolt, my thighs trying to close, but he pushes them back open before resuming his touch. He slides all the way down to my entrance, gently tracing circles there and I gasp, my eyes still closed as I let myself get lost in his touch. Our foreheads are pressed together, his own breaths coming out a little more ragged as he drags his dampened finger back up me, pausing when my legs jump. He takes his time at this spot, small circles across my clit, fast and slow, fast and slow, my breaths coming out in small, fast pants. 

He slows his movements, gently pushing a finger inside me. I moan, louder as he pulls out and adds a second finger, curling them inside of me as he moves them in and out. One spot has me gasping his name and that’s where he stays, curling and rubbing inside of me as his thumb resumes circling my clit, slow and fast, gentle and harder, the pressure building quick and fast. I grip his wrist and he stills. 

“Can I touch you? I want you to come with me.”

He nods and I move my hand over and undo his button, sliding his zipper down gently. He’s already hard, straining against his boxers. I lower them enough for him to spring free and he grunts. I grip his wrist again and pull his hand out of me with a whimper, but then slide him back in and out, fucking myself with his hand a few times as he moans in my ear. Then I take his wet hand and rub it against my palm, dropping his hand back on me before gripping him with my slicked hand. He whimpers, swearing under his breath before he pushes his fingers inside me again, immediately resuming the slow curling and rubbing, his thumb pressing gently on my clit. I slowly work him up and down, squeezing harder and softer, matching my pace to his. He kisses me hard but then breaks it, our foreheads pressed together as we pant and moan. 

In some super move, he pushes me onto my back, his hand still firmly working me over, my legs spread wide as he settles between them, fucking his hips into my hand. His arm strains next to me as he holds himself up, curling his fingers a little deeper, swirling a little more and I can’t hold back anymore. I cum, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, my legs twitching as I pulse around his fingers. Another few presses of his hips and Benny grunts, small pants coming from him as he spills himself over my stomach, my shirt hiked up to my chest. We stay like that for several long moments, both of us trying to catch our breaths. His eyes open and meet mine, holding my gaze for a moment before he blinks, pulling his hand from me as he sits up. He tucks himself back in as he looks around, shrugs, then reaches behind him and pulls his shirt up and over his head. He drops his shirt on my cunt, using the sleeve to clean off my stomach, to hold up his promise of not looking. He glances down and picks up my underwear and pants, handing them to me as he turns his head away. I make sure I’m cleaned off before getting dressed, sitting back down on the couch, the movie still playing on in the background. Minutes pass in silence between us, my stomach twisting in knots with every passing second. 

Benny clears his throat. “So…are we never talking about this again or can I finally take you on a date?”

My eyes snap up to him, his already on me. There’s no pressure here, he’d be ok if I said we’re never talking about it again. But that’s not what I want. 

“Just so long as we can have dessert at home.”

General Taglist:

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